Prim and Proper Fate (Twisted Fate Series Book 2) (3 page)

Killian tucked the book behind his back, as if he expected them to try to snatch it from his clutches.

“Did you steal that from Prim?” William asked, surprise in his voice. “Because I cannot imagine she would let you borrow it. Whatever you are thinking, Killian, you need to stop, right now. No good will come of this.”

“I’m not thinking anything. I’m just brushing up my job skills. You know, in the event the Chala finally sees reason and takes a real Light One to mate. Now, if you’ll excuse me.” Before William or Brandon could say another word, the Fate escaped up the stairs and a moment later, the sound of a slamming door echoed throughout the kitchen.

Brandon looked at William. “Do we have to worry about that?”

William cast a nervous glance at the stairs. “I don’t think so. Killian has never taken his responsibilities serious enough to be at the same level as Prim. And the curse she cast on Gavin was almost beyond her capabilities. Although I do worry he might accidentally summon the First or something. I hate to admit it, but I’ll be glad to be rid of this place.” He lifted his wineglass. “I’m calling it a night as well. See you in the morning.”

Brandon remained in the kitchen and finished his beer. He considered heading into the living room to join the guys watching the game. But he wasn’t in the mood to forgive them their stupid-ass prank just yet. Besides, if they were leaving tomorrow, tonight was his last opportunity to hook up with the hot human bartender from the hole in the wall pub they tended to migrate to when they needed a break from training.

Decision made, he placed the empty bottle on the counter and stepped outside.

On the porch, he paused to take a deep breath. He smelled pine and fresh dirt and water and the thick humidity that preceded a storm in these parts. It was spring in the mountains of western Arkansas, and raging thunderstorms were practically a daily occurrence. He couldn’t say he would be sorry to see the last of this place.

Looking up at the sky, he figured he had a couple hours before the storm hit. He didn’t care if he got wet on the way home, but he’d prefer to be reasonably dry before he reached his destination.

Time to pay a visit to the nearest town, and a certain good-looking and always-ready-for-a-good-time human woman. The rest of the pack could have their stupid used condom prank. Brandon was off to use a few condoms of his own. With a sardonic smile, he leaped from the porch, shifting into his animal form, something of an oversized bullmastiff with pale fur, as he did so. And then he took off at a run, heading south, to the welcome warmth of a good old-fashioned fuck.

Chapter 3

“You can’t win at this, you know. I worked at a candy store all through college.”

Gavin frowned and refused to give up. “Tootsie Rolls.”

Sydney rolled her eyes. “That’s just gross. And it doesn’t count. Try again.”

Gavin puffed out a sigh. “Licorice ropes.”

Sydney gave him a thoughtful look. “Okay. That could work. But mine’s better. Chocolate-covered cherries.”

“That’s not even a candy,” Gavin protested.

“Sure it is.”

He lunged across the bed, hooked his arm around her waist, and pulled her down on top of him. She wiggled, but it was clear she didn’t really want to get away.

“You win. I’d rather play a different game anyway.”

She giggled. “Maybe we could incorporate candy into your game.”

Gavin arched his eyebrows and knew his eyes were glowing in anticipation. He was certain he would never, ever, not feel the anticipation, the excitement of impending lovemaking with Sydney. Which was a good thing, considering they were immortal beings and had vowed to mate for all of eternity. Well,
sort of
mate. Yes, the fact that he was a cursed Rakshasa instead of a natural born Light One put something of a monkey wrench into their plans, but that was one technicality Gavin was happy to ignore. Sydney loved him and he loved her, and so long as his army of Light Ones kept the Rakshasa at bay, they would be fine. Nothing could separate them.

“What sort of candy?” he asked, tracing circles on her back with his fingertips.

She offered him her siren’s smile. “I think there’s a bottle of chocolate syrup in the fridge.”

Gavin was off the bed in a heartbeat. “Your definition of candy is a little off, but I still like the way you think. I’ll be back in a sec.”

She called out to him, and when he turned back to look at her, she tossed a gray T-shirt at him. “Better put this on, so your excitement isn’t quite so obvious.”

Gavin looked down at the bulge pressing against the zipper of his jeans. “You think everyone doesn’t know we have an active sex life?”

“I think you shouldn’t flaunt it in front of those poor guys. It isn’t fair, since they aren’t getting it at all.”

Gavin dragged the shirt over his head and snorted. “Don’t kid yourself. They go into town anytime I give them more than a four-hour window between training sessions.” He strode back to the bed, gave her a firm kiss on the lips, promised to be back quickly, and then headed out the door.

His limbs began to tingle the moment he stepped into the kitchen, and it took him a moment to realize he wasn’t alone in the room. Somebody was muttering words that weren’t English, yet sounded vaguely familiar. He lifted his hand in front of his face and gave it a perplexed look. What the hell was going on?

“What’s wrong with you?”

Gavin blinked at the person who spoke to him. His brain felt fuzzy, like he was drunk. He shook his head, trying to clear it. “Don’t know.” He tried to reach for the refrigerator and his hand swiped at air. “What the fuck?”

“You look ill.”

“I feel ill. I told Sydney we should have had steak instead of shrimp for dinner.”

“I don’t think it was dinner.”

Gavin shook his head again. His brain finally determined the other person in the room was Killian, the Fate who wouldn’t know a good time if it slapped him in the face. While Killian allowed them to stay in his home, Gavin knew it was only because he was obligated to do so because Sydney was a Chala. It definitely wasn’t because he felt any real desire to help their cause.

“You’re right,” Gavin acknowledged. “Would’ve hit me before now. So what the hell’s wrong with me?”

“Have you ever thought about your curse, Dark One?”

Gavin furrowed his brow. “Every single day of my life.”

“Do you ever wish the curse was lifted?”

“Of course I do,” Gavin said irritably. “That’s part of the curse. I feel every bit of my Rakshasa heritage, but I’m forced to act and feel like a Light One.”

“I can lift the curse.”

Gavin’s mind cleared for a moment, and he took a sharp intake of breath. “Don’t,” he said, as suspicion began to fill his mind.
Surely not . . . ?

“Why not? You can have your life back. Return to being a Rakshasa, like you want. No more guilt. No more depression. No more emptiness.”

“No more Chala,” Gavin snapped.
No more love
. He doubted that thought would have any impact on the dangerously delusional Fate, though, so he tried another tact. “If my curse is lifted, it’s a death sentence for Sydney.”

The Fate shrugged. “She’s surrounded by Light Ones who love her. They’ll protect her.”

“By the time they even comprehend what’s going on, I will have already walked into her bedroom and torn her body limb from bloody fucking limb.”

Killian winced, but did not back down. “Counter curses take several hours to take effect. You’ll still have enough of a conscience to get yourself away from here, before you fully turn into a Rakshasa again. And then I’ll instruct the Light Ones to pack her up and take her someplace safe, where you’ll never find her.”

“I’d find her.” The comment was flat, without inflection. He was absolutely convinced what he said was true. If not because of his connection to the woman he loved, then because he would be a Rakshasa again, a ruthless, emotionless killing machine. With the added knowledge that he’d taught the Light Ones who would be protecting her everything they knew. They wouldn’t stand a goddamn chance.

But Killian clearly did not hear the warning in Gavin’s tone. Either that, or he was just fucking crazy. Or he wanted the last known Chala in the world to die. Whatever his reasoning, the Fate began muttering words in a foreign tongue, and it finally dawned on Gavin what he was doing.

“Stop!” Gavin lurched toward the other man, but the words pushed into his head and through his veins, turning his limbs to lead. He tried to make a grab for Killian, but the Fate danced out of his reach.

“. . .
Comatus re hauten lue cursias
.” Killian finished and snapped his mouth shut, a triumphant look on his face.

“Bastard,” Gavin rasped, dropping to his knees and clutching at his chest as if he were having a heart attack. “You just fucking killed her. You just killed Sydney. Goddamn it!”

He struggled to his feet and staggered across the kitchen like a drunken man. He grabbed the front of Killian’s shirt and shoved the Fate against the wall, leaning forward until his face was only inches away from Killian’s. He knew his eyes were glowing as brightly as burning embers, the pupils probably already darkening. When he’d been a Rakshasa, his eyes had been pitch black. They’d turned pale blue thanks to Prim’s curse. He had always felt nothing but deep hatred for the Fate who cursed him in the first place, but suddenly, he wished she were here. She would never have allowed Killian to recite that counter-curse.

“Get Sydney out of here. Do you hear me? I don’t know what kind of fucked up game you think you’re playing, but it ends now. Get her and get away from here. Now. I–don’t–want. I can’t . . . kill her.” Gavin gasped, as he once again dropped to his knees.

Pain surged through his system and he grimaced as he fought it. Pointlessly. The curse had been lifted. It might take time to fully release from his system, but the deed was done. It was only a matter of time before Sydney was gone. Dead. At Gavin’s hands.

“What the hell are you waiting for? Are you a Fate or are you a pussy? Get her out of here before the curse is completely gone!”

The back door opened, drawing Gavin’s attention. Brandon Haines walked through and hesitated when he saw Gavin on his knees on the floor, clutching his head. Killian stood with his back pressed against the wall, a look of terror on his face.

“What’s going on?” Brandon asked sharply, automatically looking to Gavin for the answer.

“Brandon,” Gavin rasped, throwing himself toward the shifter. Using Brandon’s body for leverage, Gavin grabbed the other man’s legs and began the difficult process of pulling himself to his feet.

“Curse,” he said on a gasp.

“This Fate cursed you? Another one?” Brandon sounded confused. “What the hell did you do to piss him off that badly?”

Gavin shook his head. “Counter-curse,” he said, a growl in his voice.

“Counter what?”

“Listen to me,” Gavin commanded, feeling almost lucid for a moment. “Get Sydney. Get her the hell out of here. He released the curse. I’m going to kill her, Brandon. Don’t let me kill her,” he pleaded. He sounded like a frightened child, but he didn’t give a hot damn. All he cared about at the moment was getting through to Brandon, so he would save Sydney. He was the only Light One Gavin trusted to keep her away from him. And even then, he knew sooner or later, he would find them.

He had been the best of the best, after all.

“Holy fuck.”

“Find Prim. Prim can fix this. She can curse me again. Damn it!” Gavin released his hold on Brandon and dropped to the floor, curling up into a ball. His entire body shimmered as he shifted between human and animal form. Most shifters, when in their animal form, had significantly less self-control than when they were in human form. It was one reason shifters most often fought in animal form. When they were animals, they never hesitated. When they were in human form, they almost always did.

“Holy fuck,” Brandon said again, as he turned to the Fate that was still cowering behind the kitchen door. “You did this?”

Killian hesitated and then nodded.

“Turn him back. Re-curse him or whatever the fuck you have to do, but make this stop. Now, damn it!” Brandon thrust his finger at the man/shifter writhing on the floor.

Killian’s head whipped from side to side. “C-Can’t,” he stuttered. “D-D-Don’t know th-the curse. Prim–Prim made it up.”

“Prim?”

“The Fate. The one who cursed him in the first place.”

“Great. Where the hell do I find her?”

Killian hesitated, his gaze sliding to the shifter lying on the floor. Gavin’s gaze locked with his. “Your eyes are black,” the Fate whispered, his own eyes so wide they looked as though they encompassed half his head. “It’s happening much faster than I expected.” He tore his gaze away from Gavin. “Not here,” he said, speaking to Brandon. “Not in front of–of the Rakshasa.”

Brandon shook his head. “He’s not a—” But the words died on his lips, as Gavin staggered to his feet again. His face had gone gaunt, as if he’d aged a great deal in just a few moments. His eyes glowed like black embers.

Black embers? His eyes were blue. Pale blue.

“Gavin?” he asked, hesitantly.

Gavin appeared to have an internal struggle, as he tried to answer Brandon. “Sydney,” he ground out. “Save . . . Sydney. Save her. Don’t . . . let—”

“I got it. I won’t let you kill her. Go on. Get the fuck out of here. We’ll go get Prim and come find you. But we’ll tuck Sydney away first. Somewhere you’ll never find her.”

Gavin grabbed the front of his shirt, twisting it in his fist. Brandon winced as he tugged out a couple of chest hairs.

“Go,” he said again. “Get the fuck out of here before I hit you.”

Gavin’s head swiveled like a mechanical thing, as he turned and stared at the darkened hallway, an expression of intense longing on his face. As Brandon watched, his features twisted, and suddenly he was an animal, a predator, planning his next calculated move.

Sydney was coming downstairs.

Brandon grabbed Gavin’s T-shirt and bodily pushed him toward the backdoor. “Get out of here,” he instructed. “Get the fuck out before you hurt her.”

Somehow his words penetrated Gavin’s brain. He gave the hall one last longing look and then turned and lurched through the back door. Precious few moments later, Sydney hustled into the room, tightening the sash of her robe as she walked, concern etched onto her face.

“What’s going on? Where’s Gavin? I just had the strangest feeling come over me.”

“Like what?” Brandon asked curiously, as he kept one eye on the door through which Gavin had just fled.

Sydney pursed her lips and furrowed her brow in concentration. “Like, like I can’t feel Gavin any more. Well, I think I can still feel him, but it’s different. Cold. Strange. What’s going on?”

“You can actually feel him?” Brandon hadn’t known that.

“Of course I can,” she snapped. “He’s my mate.”

“He isn’t your mate.” Killian spoke up for the first time since Sydney entered the room.

She blinked and then focused on him. “He most certainly is my mate, and anyone who doubts that can answer to me.” The warning was clear. To everyone except Killian, apparently.

“No he isn’t. He’s a Rakshasa. They don’t mate with Chala. Your mate is one of these shifters here in the house. Like him.” Killian waved in Brandon’s direction.

Brandon looked at Sydney. Sydney looked at Brandon. And both blanched, at the same time.

“I’ve chosen my mate,” Sydney said stiffly, as she shifted her gaze away from Brandon. “I have absolute faith Brandon can protect me, but I’m not attracted to him like that. We’re friends. Period.”

Brandon was glad to hear she had faith in his ability to keep her safe, since that faith was about to be tested. He needed to find out where the hell this Prim character was, so he could get her to re-curse Gavin. While Brandon had bested the other shifter once or twice on the practice field, the stark reality was, if Gavin wanted Sydney dead, he would eventually succeed at his task.

“We need to—”

“No you haven’t.” Killian cut him off, responding to Sydney’s earlier proclamation that she’d chosen her mate. “If you had, William would be gone.”