“She’ll let you know when she’s ready,” Talon said in a low tone, still with no expression.
Taking the hint, Thames and Judge stood to leave, closing the door behind them.
“I cannot believe this hell that Zale began across the globe ended up in our back yard. He’s a vile curse that has to be dealt with,” Reveca ranted, still saturated with the rage Zale always brought to her.
Talon just stared.
“What?” she asked. She was ready for his tirade, was expecting him to agree with her about Zale or even insist they plot for his demise, once and for all.
Instead he reached for her. She took his hand with a furrowed brow. Slowly he pulled her into his lap. “I haven’t held you in forever.”
“What? You want a quickie? I have to kill a witness and go get our boy back from death, and somewhere in the middle of that I have a few grimoires I need to study.”
Talon didn’t laugh the way she thought he would. She wasn’t laying across the table at the mercy of his hands and lips. Instead he pulled her legs up, cradled her in his arms.
Still confused but comforted, she let out a slow breath as she lay on his shoulder. She could feel the gentle caresses of his fingers through her hair, his lips brushing her forehead.
For the longest time he didn’t say anything, he just held her. The way he used to when they were new, when even as a mortal he was strong and fearless. When he recognized an innocence in a girl that he knew had passion, power, and fire just under the surface. He’d hold her like this for hours each night…never saying a word.
He’d told her often back then she was safe, that he’d fight heaven and hell to keep her that way. It was a vow he made her, it was the reason he came back when he did perish, when he hovered over his own body and watched her grieve. Not again.
Him coming back, him fighting the grips of death was something he always knew she respected, found awe for. It made her feel even safer, allowed her to grasp the vow he’d given. He was her warrior, the one that returned.
Talon built a world around her; one that kept her at a distance from the coven which had clearly scorned her in some deep irreparable way. He never understood how they’d hurt her, he just knew he’d never let it happen again. Each time she’d give in to their request they’d fight. He’d tell her they were going to hurt her, she was letting them pull her in again. She’d always look at him, let her gaze slowly glide over him. Her eyes would well with tears she never let fall, ever, and say ‘if I don’t they surely will hurt me.’
Talon and Reveca always found a way around the barters they were asked to make or the deeds that were needed. Most times they came out stronger. Cashton was an example of that.
Then today he learns that her first warrior did return to her, and he, too, built a world around her. Yet neither one of their efforts were fruitful, not if there was any truth to what Zale had said.
It was the look in King’s eyes that validated Zale’s words. When a man like King shows even a flicker of fear in his eyes, you can bet a shit storm is on its way, that it’s far worse, the risk is higher, than it seems.
“You’re troubled,” he finally said, a line that in the past was uttered to recognize she was turning inward, fighting emotions and battles she didn’t want to burden him with.
“We went from a calm to this. I was rather enjoying the peace.”
“When was our last battle—five years maybe. We were going strong on the verge of taking Zale down, then…”
Reveca closed her eyes and breathed out. “Then I lost my rush,” she admitted.
“All at once.”
He felt her tense in his arms and let his lips rest on her forehead before he spoke. “It’s not your fault.”
“It is. I don’t know why it became hard for me. Why I felt weak, tired. If I had just found a second wind then I would have taken him down and this bullshit would not have had a chance to come to light. Evanthe would not have had to take the steps she did.”
Talon squinted his eyes closed. She never saw that though, didn’t see the validation she had just placed upon him.
Jamison was right before, when he said that there were times when Reveca and the Sons were ripe with power, when they’d won their greatest wars, and there were times when she wasn’t. He’d always thought that was just her way of recharging, taking a break to enjoy the victories. But she had faded over the last five years. It was a slow fall but truth be told just before GranDee’s death, she was at the lowest point Talon had ever know her to be. Listless.
He’d thought that grief had shocked her back into action, that a rush of a waiting war was calling her. He’d assumed that was the reason for the glow she carried, the reason she was so connected to the innocent side of her magic once again.
Clearly King also occurred at the same time.
“Do you think this is her prediction?” Reveca finally asked.
Evanthe’s predictions were hard to understand because she didn’t clearly understand them herself, and the ones she did understand she was even vaguer about.
She had told Reveca once that when her lover was presented with a likeness of her, when he was tempted, that Reveca must lay her claim and not waver no matter the risk, that if she did she would lose it all—her family, her Club, her everything.
That was a prediction she shared with Talon, one they both thought of over and over throughout the ages, each time lust would cross each of their paths.
“I took care of her,” Talon said with a rasp.
Amber. Though who she was today was the polar opposite of the kind of woman Reveca was, she mirrored who Reveca was when she first met Talon—a total innocent.
They both acknowledged the prediction when she surfaced, when Reveca saw the way he looked at her, saw him want to help her.
The other night, discovering she was embedded with the criminal business that could take her Club down if it was ever uncovered by the lawmen, put a rightful fear in Reveca.
Amber very well could be an omen, and for all Reveca knew, her dear friend had seen King coming and was telling Reveca to hold fast to what was hers. To not get distracted or comfortable, to not be tempted. Easier said than done.
“Is she the omen, though?”
Talon moved his arm so Reveca’s head fell back, so their eyes were mere inches apart. “If I…if I knew how to love a woman…it would be you.”
He loved Reveca, but he knew he wasn’t in love with her. It was more of the same with her. No two souls in the existence of the universe had tried harder to fall in love with each other than the pair of them.
They couldn’t fall but they couldn’t walk away, either. They didn’t want to.
“She tempts you, makes you remember how I was.”
“King tempts you.”
Neither of their voices were cold or mean; they were barely a whisper.
“Maybe so…” she admitted after a long pause, one she used to search his eyes. “But he left long ago without a fight and plans to do so again. Fate itself states there can never be a him and me. It’s not the same with you, with Amber.”
“What have I always told you about warriors?” Talon asked as his fingertips lifted and traced her jawline.
“One can sense another.”
“And they never stop fighting,” Talon said. “King is a warrior.” He breathed in deep. “Amber may or may not be an omen. Either way…I did as we said. Either way, no matter the hell or pain I’m going to defend you, protect you. Do what’s best for you.”
“Your calm is terrifying me,” Reveca said as her hand reached to his face and she let her nails glide across the shadow of a beard there.
“I don’t trust your coven, never have. This war is bringing us side by side with them.”
“It’s their Rapture that blinds them. They hold too dearly to the words our ancestors spoke.”
“And you don’t.”
“I don’t know what to believe anymore. The more I fight it the more validation is tossed i
n my path. I know there are no absolutes though, that those who saw back then could not see it all. As far as I’m concerned whatever wars are occurring in the heavens can remain there. I have enough in my own world.”
“It is our war though.”
Reveca furrowed her brow.
Talon’s fingertips traced that confused expression and he spoke. “The oath of our Club, our family. We remain as one. Cashton is one of ours.”
“So you and your warrior mindset agree with King. He should lurk here until Cashton has the slightest clue that he is supposed to kill him. Cashton is not a killer.”
“Would you call that raid the other night a battle? Was it a victory?” Talon asked.
“To some degree.”
“Saving Gwinn, a victory.”
Reveca’s stare said yes.
“And who helped you fight both those battles, who helped bring that victory home?”
“What are you saying?” she asked in a whisper.
“I’m saying that I can sense a man’s energy on my woman from a thousand miles away.”
Guilt assaulted Reveca then but to her credit it didn’t reflect in her eyes.
“His energy was used for magic.”
“And this powerful witch I know told me energy is empowered when two souls entangle their energy, when they feel a rush of exaltation.”
“I haven’t slept with him, Talon, not then and not now.”
“No,” Talon said as his fingertips traced her lips. “But you gave him your heart. It’s died with him twice over.”
The truth of his words stole her breath, halting her words for a moment. “Talon, you have told me over and over that you don’t know how to love as deep as you want to. Let me assure that it’s impossible for King, too. I don’t want to feel this guilt and I refuse to. I have no idea why my sister is putting any of us through this. I just know that right now I have to get through what’s in front of me.”
“That’s what we’re going to do, Vec. I’m not laying guilt on you. I’m acknowledging that King has helped us fight wars, that he was pivotal in the success of them. Should we make his kut now, or test him more?”
“You’ve lost your mind,” Reveca said with an awkward grin. “King is not a Son.”
“No, he’s a fallen God, apparently, and Cashton is one that is rising. I don’t understand your witch games or the Rapture you despise and your coven admires. I understand my Club. And as long as those two boys are under my roof, no one is destroying anyone.”
“Their war is not ours, it’s otherworldly. I don’t know how else to explain that because it’s too much for me to contend with right now.”
Talon pulled her head closer. “You listen to me, and you never forget this.” A flash of a flame came across his dark eyes, which meant raw emotion was making itself known. “You use whatever weapon you can to fight. You are not allowed to let anyone or anything hurt or destroy you. If that weapon is King’s energy then so be it. I’m not existing in a world without you.”
“Nothing is going hurt me,” Reveca said as her hand brushed his cheek and her eyes filled with confusion. “Where is this coming from?”
He didn’t answer. He let his lips rest on hers. It was a slow sweet kiss, but all the power, the aggression in him, that passion, wouldn’t let it stay slow and sweet. His lips were forceful, full of so much emotion, rich with time they had shared side by side, the laughter, the tears, the passion, all of it.
Slowly his hands glided down her body, tenderly, carefully, a slow glide that refused to erupt into passion but was adamant about conveying rich emotions.
For a moment Reveca had no idea who this man holding her was, but she was grateful. He not only had a right but a reason to be downright wrathful with his jealousy. And wasn’t. For the first time in all of the time they were side by side, he told her to grasp her craft, to use it as a shield. In the past it was their strength, simple spells and skills they used. She could only assume that he felt the magnitude of the war before them, that he knew that the pair of them had to stay strong, side by side, to defend those with them.
One way or another that would happen.
They’d win.
Chapter Two
Fatherhood sucked. That was Thrash’s current view on the topic. Talon had made it seem as if Evanthe had endured the hardest part of child rearing by changing a few diapers. Thrash disagreed. A child in diapers or learning to walk was bound to be easier to deal with than a teenage boy. A teenage boy with wolf inside, with far too much attitude for his own good.
He still hadn’t talked to the kid. There was too much shit stirred up in this cold war, that he along with Talon and Reveca had been engaged in for longer than Thrash could remember. At least that was the excuse he kept telling himself, that he had to take care of his business, then he’d deal with the kid.
The thing about cold wars is they take time: planning, twisted plots, precise action that comes when least expected. Thrash hated that part. Give him something to kill, something to destroy, and he was just peachy.
Still, he and Talon and the other guys had been hunting Devil’s Den rats who were trying to claim the Sons’ territory in the script dealing world they owned, but they had been closing down current clinics.
It was just too hot right now. The lawmen had come far too close to the bust they’d craved. Always a step ahead, the Sons were making sure they found nothing but empty houses and buildings.
They weren’t bowing out of this business, running with their tails tucked. They were just moving it to other chapters of the Sons until the mother chapter added some heat to the cold war, and then it would be business as usual.
Thrash was in charge of meeting the other riders, the change of hands in the dead of the night. He was good with that because it put him on his bike, allowed him to ignore what was waiting at home for him, ignore that the only woman he gave a damn about was apparently trapped in the pages of a book, as absurd as that sounded.
Each time Thrash was home, though, he laid eyes on the boy. He’d find him with King, or off in the back of the Boneyard messing around with something. He’d watch for a while and when Bastion would look his way he’d leave.
Thrash had asked Star to watch out for him. Reveca was distracted with the same shit Thrash was. He had no doubt King could keep the kid out of trouble, knock his ass out if that lip of his had too much bite. But King didn’t consume food or sleep. And Thrash was pretty damn sure that kid needed things like food and water.
Bastion wasn’t making it easy on Star. Half the time she couldn’t find him, and when she did, it took her twice as long to get him to do whatever she wanted him to do.
It was well into the afternoon, and for the first time all day she had gotten food into him.
Bastion was sitting at the bar in the lounge. His sleeveless white T-shirt had marks of dirt and grease on it as well as his jeans, which were full of holes.
Bastion’s dark hair was tied back. He’d clearly disregarded shaving for a good three days. That rugged look, the cold glint in his eyes, was like looking in a mirror as far as Thrash was concerned. He had seen a lot of shit in his life, but looking at someone and seeing an echo of yourself was by far the strangest thing he had endured.
Thrash was at the other end of the bar listening to Star whisper all that Bastion had been up to over the last few days. Apparently the night before, Taurus had to help her get Bastion out of the lounge. He was not only drinking but also talking up a girl that was too old and too wild for him.
Bastion tried to fight Taurus and apparently got a few good licks in, but then King came out of nowhere and told the kid to get to the house then followed him there. Good thing, too, because Taurus had Thrash’s permission to kick Bastion’s ass if he acted out and for a mortal that man could throw a solid punch.
“He’s just trying to get your attention,” Star said as she patted Thrash on the arm then went back to loading the coolers behind the bar with longnecks.
Bastion
didn’t look up from his lunch until the likes of Tisk came in. His stare went right past where Thrash was and landed on her then tracked her as she moved through the room.
Thrash cursed under his breath, recognizing the look in his eye.
Apparently Tisk did too, because instead of going to the side couches where Echo and Steele were, she changed her course and came right up to Bastion.
“My, my, my. Young blood…that’s what this Club needs,” Tisk said as she sat down next to Bastion then stole a french fry from his plate. Only that girl could make eating a fry look provocative, the way she let her tongue touch the tip, then bit down slowly, before moaning.
Bastion’s brow furrowed, but he smiled at her.
She inhaled nice and slow. “You have a beast in you. Does he want a friend?” she asked as she tilted her head innocently. “It’s hard making new friends here. I kinda suck at it but two outcasts—we’ll just make our own gang,” she said with lazy wink.
Thrash couldn’t take it anymore. He pushed back from his stool and stalked closer. “Back off.”
“Ohh, poppa is mad,” Tisk said letting her hand fall to Bastion’s leg. “We’re playing nice,” she said, looking up at Thrash then she smiled at Bastion. “Me and young wolf here were nearly bunk mates. Why didn’t I see you there? Where was momma hiding you? Can’t say I blame her. Bet she has to fight girls off you all the time.”
“Had a hot date at Gaither,” Bastion said smooth as ever.
“I don’t know why they didn’t find me,” Tisk said as she dropped her gaze. “Knowing I was that close to danger…it’s terrifying,” she said as her eyes met his. “When I heard you were here, who you were, I halfway thought I was safe because of you, that you fought them so fiercely they didn’t even think to look for anyone else in that big house.”
“Get the fuck away from him,” Thrash said again, moving closer to Bastion.
Bastion didn’t bother to move, even kept a flirtatious glint to his eyes.
“Your daddy’s jealous. Do you know what he said to me?” Tisk said in tired, hurt voice. “He said I was too skinny, that I was weak. He knows I want to be an immortal and he taunts that.” She squeezed Bastion’s leg. “You don’t think I’m too skinny do you? You’re not afraid you’re going to break me are you? You’re not like your daddy. You have control over your beast, don’t you?” Her hand eased up his leg. “It’s best to let him out of his cage once in awhile. If you don’t you’re going to end up grumpy and frustrated like Thrash here.”