The Trouble with Fate (31 page)

“After Candy died, I never thought I’d see another spring. That night, when my sister
told me to run, I went, not because I was afraid of dying, but because I wasn’t going
to let the pack take me out for something I didn’t do. If I couldn’t pick the time,
I’d pick the place. I went to the mountains and waited for the mate bond to take me.
But I never got sick … never got weak. I was as strong six months after her death
as I’d been the day I married her.

“Candy and I got married the first Saturday the week after high-school graduation.
That’s what we Weres do, isn’t it? We marry our boys off young, hoping the mating
bond will bind us to the pack.” He lifted the glass to his lips, took a long swallow.
Wiped his mouth with the back of his hand. “It works for most people. And my parents
were good about it. They saw that I liked Candy, and they encouraged the match, even
though her line wasn’t known to be prolific breeders. Too much intermarriage. Fertility
rates were really low. Marriages that led to more than one child, like my parents’
match, were rare. Sometimes I felt like I was hitched to a post in a stable, waiting
for my turn to buck and fuck. Not a Were. Not a wolf. Just a small cog in everyone
else’s plans.” The sun was creeping up over the top of a distant black-lined roof.
It peeped at us, winking, sending fingers of light toward him.

“So I married her. And she loved me. Right away. Sometimes I wondered why. How can
you love someone so easily?”

I pulled my blanket closer.

“I liked her. A lot. At first, we just had a lot of fun. Most of it in the sack.”
He grimaced and rubbed a hand over his belly. “But … well, you know how we do the
civil ceremony for all the humans, and do the mating ritual later in front of friends
and family? Well, we did it. I said the words. She did too … But something went wrong.
It didn’t take. I didn’t feel any different and I don’t think she did either, because
she looked at me like I’d … But everyone was smiling at us, offering me a beer, so
we didn’t say anything.” He didn’t turn. He kept studying the sky ahead of him. “Candy
didn’t want us to tell anyone. We kept going, day after day, like everything was perfect …
She kept hoping … But it was me. I couldn’t stick, you know? I always felt like I
needed to roam. That there was someplace out there calling to me. And I wanted to
be a musician. I loved playing the guitar. Wrote a few songs. Thought myself a fine
little rock star.” His voice turned hard. “So that was where I was the night my family
was being butchered. I lied to my wife and family, and drove myself into the city.
There was a band looking for a guitarist. In my head, I had it all worked out. I was
going to blow them away with my music, and Candy and me would hit the road with the
band. I put my cell on silent, and then I went into the bar.

“Joke was on me. The band sucked.” He tipped his head to the side. “Maybe I did too.
Too late to know. So instead of going back, I thought, ‘Hey, I’m here, I might as
well have a good time.’ The band left, but I stayed, talking to the bartender, and
drinking and flirting with a girl who thought I was hot. Getting away from the pack,
being in the bar—it left me with a taste, you know? A taste of how it could be. I
thought about it a lot as I drove home. Didn’t look at my cell until I was at the
lights on Main and Water. There were six missed calls from Candy. I was already thinking
up a lie as I drove up the drive.

“I didn’t smell or see him. I didn’t hear him until it was too late. When I came to,
the house was dark, and silent. My fingers were missing.” He stretched his right hand
and held it up, holding back the sun. “That seemed like a big deal, for a second.
How could I ever become a rock star?

“And then I smelled the blood. Their blood.” He paused, looking blindly ahead. “I
found Candy’s body in our bedroom closet. I pulled the cell phone out of her hand,
and put her on our bed.

“You’re supposed to die. Mates are
supposed
to die. That’s what I was thinking as I ran away. That maybe the mate bond had taken
hold of us, and I had been too shit-stupid and stubborn to recognize it. That I wouldn’t
have to live with the shame long, that I’d just die. But in the end, I didn’t do that
either.” He turned to me, watching me from under hooded eyes. “Here I am. I didn’t
die—I just got old before my time.”

Blue sparks around the swirl of light in his eyes. “I’m not sure if I’m capable of
bonding. But I do know this. I can’t stand to see harm come to you. I can’t bear to
watch you hurt. And I want you. Even if our first time sucked, I want you. There’s
something about the scent of you and the feel of your skin.”

He frowned. Blue sparks faded. His eyes turned back to Trowbridge blue.

“I’m not much of a bargain, Tink.” His gaze flicked away to linger on Cordelia’s plant
collection. “I keep telling you that I’m tired of saving you, but I’m starting to
think you believe the shoe’s on the other foot. I’m not looking to be saved. I am
what I am. It is what it is.”

The orchid had shriveled up, its flowers soft and spent. I picked up Merry and put
her on the next one. The sun was warm on my shoulders, and I did something I never
thought I’d do. I let go of the blanket, letting it pool by my feet. There I was.
All ins and outs. Naked as my jaybird lover, standing in front of a full-length window
in the light of day. Seeing how he’d bared his soul with his life story, I’d thought
the grand gesture warranted another one, but now I felt exposed and I didn’t know
what to do with my arms.

I said, “Fae Tears are probably like the first time a Were changes. It’s a rite of
passage. I wish Mum had told me how much it hurts. I would have been a better kid.”
I reached for the small pouch dangling from Mum’s bride belt, loosened its ties and
spilled out a few pink diamonds into my palm. With a finger, I sorted them. “These
two are our birthstones. This was after a fight between Mum and Dad. This was when
Lexi was lost, and your dad brought him back. This one,” I said, pushing one that
was longer and thinner than the others. “This one was her last Tear.” I felt a chill,
remembering why she cried it, and the expression of despair and futility in her eyes
as it spilled. I turned away.

Trowbridge came up behind me, putting his arms around my waist. I felt his chin brush
my hair.

“But this one.” I held it up to the light so that we both could see it. Pink-white
light. Perfect in shape. “This was her first. She said when she cried that tear, she
knew.” I turned my head slightly so that my forehead rested against his neck. “She
called it Dad’s Tear.”

I held up the new one, custom made by my own tear ducts.

“This one is yours.”

He liked that. What had been semisoft went rigid. “My eyes always burn when you’re
near, Trowbridge.”

His hand began to move.

“Make love to me,” I whispered. “Just me this time.”

Our heads turned together when the bedroom door opened. Cordelia stood, keys in hand.
Her hair was held by a headband, a shoulder bag swung over her thin shoulders. She
lifted her chin. “Can the fornication at least wait until I’m out of the bloody apartment?”

*   *   *

It did. Fornication waited until much later, but making love started the moment the
door clicked closed. Different somehow, now that truth lay in bed with us.

The only pain was the need.

“Do you see me, Trowbridge?” I held his face between my hands.

“Yes,” he said.

Kisses. Touches. Small noises that led to bigger ones. Want displayed. Trust offered.
Self-awareness fading to focus on touch, on sensation, on the growing urgent need.
His breath, my breath, merged together. Body-slapping, sucking noises. Rocking.

“Easy, sweetheart, it will come.”

Searching for it, waiting for it, straining for it.

And finally finding it.

*   *   *

He sighed. “I’m almost afraid to ask you, but what are you thinking?”

“About when you almost changed into a Were. That was pretty strange. I thought you
needed the moon to transform into your wolf. Ever heard of it happening before?”

He concentrated on untangling a knot in my hair before grunting noncommittally.

“Have you?” I insisted.

He caught my hands and laid them flat over his chest. “There are folktales, I’ve heard,
about one or two Alphas being able to do it long ago. But that was back in the Stone
Age, and I never believed it. The only Were I knew who pulled it off was the scentless
one.”

“So what’s your explanation?”

“Fairy juice,” he said with a ghost of laughter in his voice.

“You hadn’t squeezed me by then.”

“Maybe just being in a small room with you was enough.” He was studying our two hands;
mine were small and white under his large one. “Anyway, I didn’t completely change,
did I? It stopped. I’d need the moon to turn full wolf.”

His nails were chewed down to the quick. I couldn’t imagine him gnawing on them, but
by the same token, two days ago, I couldn’t imagine being cuddled by a naked Robson
Trowbridge.

His fingers brushed a tender spot on my back. “Ow,” I murmured, too lazy to lift my
head from the warm cradle of his shoulder.

“You’ve got a graze there. Did that happen in the bar?”

I turned my head but couldn’t see much except my own shoulder, and his suntanned fingers
softly stroking my pale skin. Kind of hypnotic to watch. Judging by his slitted eyes,
also somewhat hypnotic to the touch. “Where?” I asked drowsily.

“Along your spine. Maybe three inches long.”

How’d I do that? He never let anyone get near me in the strip club. Maybe when I was
falling down the hill? No, that was hours ago; I would have healed by now. Suddenly,
the memory flashed in my mind’s eye, quick and hot.
Me on my knees, furrowing my way under the hedge in Threall, Mad-one on my heels.
I pressed my hand to my eye, and silently counted to twelve. Took a breath, to find
the image of the crazed Mystwalker still crystal sharp. I counted some more, my lips
moving silently.

“You okay?” he asked.

“Yeah,” I said gruffly. There were salty beads of sweat under the thin mat of his
chest hair; I rubbed his skin dry with my finger.
You’re not in Threall now. You’re lying in bed with your Were lover, wasting time
when you should be looking for Lou
.

“You don’t heal as fast as us, do you?”

“No.”
Wounds received in Threall take longer to heal. I’ll have to remember that.
I wished I had Were healing powers and strength. It made them indifferent to the
prospect of hurt. And brave when they shouldn’t be. Dad should have called for help.
“Who was the scentless wolf who murdered my father?”

“My uncle, Mannus Trowbridge,” he said, “present Alpha of the Creemore pack of kin.”

There were noises. Traffic below. The ever-present hum of appliances and tick of the
clock. But here, between us, not counting the uneven tempo of both our hearts, I heard
only silence.

“Your uncle killed my father.” There was a big hollow pit in my stomach. “Then he
went and murdered his own brother?”

“Weres can be like that. Driven.” Trowbridge drew long fingers through my hair. “Mannus
saw something he wanted, and he found a way of getting it.” He curled a strand around
his thumb and considered his hair-wrapped digit for a moment before he resumed speaking.
“My uncle wanted to rule the pack, but he had a few obstacles in his way. My dad was
never going to bequeath his Alpha flare to his brother, not when he had children who
had a right to it. A stupider man would have taken all but one of us out that night,
and then offered a choice to the last survivor—his life for the crown. But a massacre
like that would have resulted in a Council inquiry. For him to get away with the murders,
the passing of the title had to look organic, like it was a gift from one dying Alpha
to the Were of his choice. So he needed a scapegoat for my family’s murders.”

“You,” I said softly.

He nodded. “Me. But before he could slaughter my family he had to figure out how to
get enough power to flare like an Alpha. There’s only one place he could have got
that from.”

My gut squeezed. “Merenwyn.”

“Weres can’t travel there alone, even if they want to break the Treaty. Someone had
to lead him through the Gates. It’s not like—”

“Walking through a door.” I listened to his heart thudding in his chest.

He tilted his head at me. “That’s what I’ve heard.” His other hand went back to his
second-favorite resting spot—my breast. Cupping it, he said thoughtfully, “Only those
Fae-born can pass through the portals, and few of them have been taught the way to
this realm. Somehow, my uncle met someone who knew the route, and was willing to lead
him to the Pool of Life. He probably used some of that charm he was always spreading
about when I was young.” Bridge’s lips turned down. “He was always smiling … always
promising things he’d never come through with … Maybe he fell in love with…”

The pause grew until I filled it. “Lou.”

There it was. The shadow I’d kept behind me. When I was small,
it
had been small, but I’d felt its presence, and had been careful not to turn my head.
But it had grown as I had grown; lengthened and stretched with every rationalization
I’d manufactured. I didn’t need to turn my head to see it. Past the landscape of his
chest was a window. And past that was a postcard-pretty spring day, with blue skies,
and puffy clouds. But inside the apartment, the shadow of my aunt hung over my shoulder.

“I don’t know how she did it. The portals aren’t supposed to recognize Were blood,
but somehow she found a way. She took your uncle to Merenwyn.” My voice sounded thin.
I made it stronger. “She was the Fae that broke the Treaty, not my mum.”

“Yes.” His scent swirled in an eddy around both of us. “Who else could it be?”

“For the longest time I thought it was another Fae. He didn’t have a face; he didn’t
have a name, but it had to be him. Not my aunt Lou.” My mouth was too dry. I bit the
edge of my tongue and waited for saliva to ease the ache. “I didn’t want to know.
If she was responsible … what type of daughter would that make me? Didn’t I owe my
family more than to go with her, and call her aunt? I had doubts, but I didn’t know
what to do with them. It was so much easier to believe that she was guiltless. I was
twelve. All I could think of was who was going to take care of me. I rationalized
every doubt away, and kept doing it. Even later, when Lou got weak, and I was the
person bringing home the food and paying the rent, I didn’t leave. I could have walked
out the door, but I stayed. I told myself that she found me when I needed her the
most and I owed her my loyalty. She found me, and took me away from the fire. She
could have left me to the wolves, but she didn’t. It had to be another Fae that set
that first domino to fall.”