A Life Earthbound (25 page)

Over the next week, she avoided him as best she could. It wasn’t an easy task, as he insisted on suddenly showing up nearly everywhere she went, whether it was in the back gardens pruning roses, in the courtyard eating lunch with Capri, or in the kitchen working on a new recipe. She couldn’t seem to get away from him, and all it was doing was making it harder for them both. Him, because of the constant, frosty rejections. And her, because just looking at him quickened her pulse and weakened her knees. It was a sensation she would rather live without.

Since their argument in the Greenhouse, Rhiannon hadn’t seen Michael, which relieved her enormously. The last thing she needed was another forced conversation with that pompous dunderhead. And since her mother had been hopelessly busy doing God knows what, she hadn’t been pestering her oldest daughter with questions or demands regarding the Callahans, which suited Rhiannon just fine. She sincerely hoped the Callahans would stay away from Euphora for good and leave her in peace.

Though peace was quite an understatement. Her father was still lost in himself and seemed to be getting worse as the weeks wore on. She’d begun to feel more and more helpless. Though he spoke to her and worked alongside her, it was as though a light had gone out inside of him. He never smiled, his voice was much too flat, his temper too easily provoked, and he was constantly leaving her to be alone. What he did when he was gone, she could only imagine.

One day she’d gotten exasperated with him during one of his comatose daydreams as he sat in front of one of the ceramic pots and grew a shrub with spreading vines that began to overtake the entire work area. By the time she’d found him, the plant had spread and wrapped around his legs, crept up his arms, and nearly devoured the desks and chairs around him. And when she’d snapped him out of it, he’d stared around him in disbelief, and had the gall to accuse her of growing the wildly spreading plant.

She had corrected him, ripped the plant from his legs and arms and demanded to know what he’d been doing, what had been going through his mind. He’d just stared at her, dumbfounded and aged looking, and had no answer. The lost look in his eyes had broken her heart, and the only thing she could do was sit on the ground beside him and hold his hand. It seemed to provide some comfort, but it certainly wasn’t enough.

And it was times like that when she was reminded of her dream, and how her father had looked at her in disgust because she had no heart.

That night, they sat together in the parlor, both lost in their own thoughts. She figured the others probably looked at the two of them, both sitting on the sofa with rigidly straight backs and vacant expressions, and thought them to be dull, boring people. Little did they know that they weren’t dull, they just lacked the ability to show emotion, and quite possibly the capacity to even feel it. It made them pitiable, she thought, but not boring.

Her father suddenly rose to his feet and the movement shook her out of her own thoughts. Around them, the other members of the Council talked and joked with each other, and their happiness seemed to contrast so sharply with her and her father’s misery that she resented every last one of them. Staring at her father, she watched him step over to the bar against the wall, where the snifters of brandy and other liquors were displayed in beautiful mahogany and glass cabinetry. He poured himself more brandy, and was about to head back to the sofa when Brock sauntered over, looking drunk and more than a little mean, his lips curled in a cruel grin.

“How much brandy’re you drinkin’ these days, Rohan?” Brock chuckled darkly, eyeing his long time enemy with arrogant challenge. “Would hate to see you waste the woman I gave you.”

Rhiannon’s eyes widened as she stared from Brock to her father, who froze in place and turned to glare at his arch nemesis with vivid loathing. It was the most emotion she’d seen on his face in weeks.

“You mean the woman who chose me over you, who you couldn’t resist trying to take back?” Rohan charged, standing tall and proudly tilting his head to stare down his nose at Brock.

They were both tall men, but where Rohan was slender and elegant in his crisp dress shirt and slacks, Brock was burly and mean in jeans and a blood red t-shirt. The contrast between the two men had never been more apparent.

Brock stepped toward Rohan, pointing a finger at him accusingly. “She wanted me more and you know it.”

Rohan sneered, refusing to rise to the bait. “Then why did she choose me?”

“Because she’s a woman and she let you charm her away. But she came back. They always come back to me,” Brock growled, his voice rising.

No one had been paying attention until that moment. The entire parlor went instantly silent and Rhiannon was now no longer the only one staring at the two men with alarm in her eyes. Serendipity rose to her feet, edging forward as if to intervene, but even she looked troubled as to which of the two men she should defend.

Seeing the color rise in her father’s face, seeing his hand that held the glass of brandy tremble, she knew he was on the verge of a fight with Brock. And since she knew it was a fight that had been a long time coming, she saw no other choice but to intervene. Now was not a good time, not when this particular subject was destroying him…she knew without a doubt that in a physical fight, he stood no chance against Brock. The other man was meaner, bigger and would fight much dirtier than her father would.

Rising to her feet, she stepped to her father and gripped his arm, pulling at him.

“Come sit down, ignore him,” she said quietly to her father, though he wouldn’t stop looking at Brock, deep rooted hostility in his eyes.

Brock barked out a loud laugh, his head falling back with it. “C’mon, Rohan, don’t let your kid push you around. Be a man and let’s settle this once and for all.”

Rhiannon glared at Brock, feeling her face flush with temper and embarrassment. “He is twice the man you are. You shouldn’t forget that.”

“Woah, woah, woah,” Blythe piped in, rising up to stand with her father, fists on her hips as she stared angrily at Rhiannon. “Twice the man? He’s weak and pathetic enough to push around a girl half his size, or did you forget
that
little incident?”

Rhiannon grimaced, the memory of her father practically attacking Blythe just a few months earlier flashing in her mind. “At least he’s a good husband and a good father, which is much more than can be said for him,” she spat, nodding at Brock, who flushed red with anger.

“Hey, don’t put this bad father shit on him, he was unfairly punished for a crime he didn’t even commit,” Blythe growled, stepping toward Rhiannon with her temper sparking. “And unlike you, princess, I missed out on having a dad for fifteen years because
your
dad and Balgaire were jealous.”

Tilting her head up just slightly, Rhiannon glared down her nose at Blythe in disgust. “Jealous? Of what? A drunk, a gambler, a failure as a Dryad? Oh, but you have the same arrogance he does, don’t you? You think everyone should be just like you.”

“
Screw you!
” Blythe shouted, preparing to launch herself at Rhiannon full force. But Jax grabbed her arms and held her back, wrestling with her until the red cleared from her eyes. But even as he did, he glared at Rhiannon with such derision she actually shuddered.

“Hey, ice queen, wipe that snotty look off your face and take a look in the mirror for once. You should be so lucky to be even
half
the woman Blythe is. Get off your high horse and maybe then you’ll see that you’re just conceited, miserable, and cold to the goddamn bone.”

Rhiannon felt the breath leave her lungs as she stared at him, seeing for the first time just what is was that made him such a feared man by demons and humans alike. He could be ruthlessly cruel.

“You’re out of line, Jax,” Liam cut in, no longer able to stand by and let this happen. He walked to Rhiannon and stood at her side, wrapping an arm around her as he glared at the man who he’d thus far considered a friend. “Apologize to her.”

“Why?” Jax stared disbelievingly at Liam, his arm tucked around Blythe, who was still spitting mad. “If she can’t take it, then she shouldn’t dish it out.”

“Because we’re all adults here, and yet you’re acting like children. Apologize,” Liam ordered.

“Don’t say sorry for speaking the truth, cowboy,” Blythe spat, staring at Liam as she shook her head. “Clearly, Liam would rather defend the bitch than see reason.”

“Blythe!” Lucian gaped, his eyes darting from his son to the girl who was practically his daughter. Liam only scowled at her.

“Rhia doesn’t deserve the way you treat her, Blythe. I’ve always told you that.”

Rhiannon looked at him, her eyes wide with wonder. He would still defend her, after everything she’d done to him? What had she done to deserve such devotion?

Unable to take any more of the fighting, she quietly pulled her father away as Liam and Jax continued to argue, other members of Euphora joining in the fight, including her mother and Nyxa, who were now face-to-face, practically clawing at each other. Obviously, tonight was a night to release pent up frustrations all around.

She led her father into the corridor and continued to pull him along toward their rooms.

He didn’t object, nor did he say a word to her. Apparently, he was just as shaken by the fight as she had been, and the fact that it had started between him and Brock. Did it surprise him to see the divide that their hatred for each other caused, even still?

And did it surprise her to see Liam standing so valiantly at her side, despite everything between them?

Yes. Yes, it did.

She sat at
her bedroom window in darkness, staring out at the moonlit courtyard, lost in thought.

Her father was safely in his own room down the hall, hopefully sleeping by now. She wished that she could sleep, then maybe all her inner demons would leave her alone.

She was wrong to fight back at Blythe, that much she knew. Blythe had always been a powder keg, ready to explode at the first sign of retaliatory fire. And, really, all she’d done was try and defend her father. Hadn’t Rhiannon been doing the same?

But she’d fought back nonetheless, because despite years and years of portraying nothing more than cool indifference and a barely veiled dislike, the truth was, she couldn’t stand Blythe. She couldn’t stand anything about her, and though she refused to admit it, part of her knew it all had to do with Liam. Blythe had, unwittingly of course, stolen Liam from her all those years before. She’d monopolized his attention, and taken away any hope Rhiannon had of competing for him. And so, accepting her jealousy, Rhiannon had simply turned from both of them and shut them out. It had been easier that way.