Loving Ean (The Fae Guard Book 2) (13 page)

Calista grins (not exactly innocent of giving Aden shit either, but in a very different way), “Oh, to be a fly on the wall that day.”

I return her grin, “I’m sure Shaylee will give us a play by play.”

“Hey!” I duck suddenly as a beer bottle goes flying at our heads, then disappears before it hits the wall and shatters. I glare at Fate and she shrugs, “You want to stop acting like little old women gossiping about me as if I weren’t sitting right the fuck here?” She grabs the deck and shuffles the cards like an expert Vegas dealer.

Fate has the same features as the rest of the Fae, with the exception of her startlingly purple eyes. Nobody seems to know why they are different, I always assumed it was something to do with being Fate. Anyway, taking those unusual eyes and adding them to her current get up, paints a crazy picture that has me giggling. Her blonde curls are bound with a rubber band, at the base of her neck, and cascading down her back. She’s wearing a tight, white tank top with black suspenders, a red and black sleeve garter on her bare arm, and a green poker dealer visor. The whole package is topped off by the super long, Cruella worthy, electric cigarette holder resting on a tray by her elbow. Ailean notices my perusal and laughs. Fate is . . . there is really no way to categorize her, so let’s just move on.

We have a girl’s night like this every month, but Fate and I are the only ones that are consistently there. The other seats rotate depending on who is out on assignment or have other engagements. These nights are like unzipping a dress that’s too tight when you’ve been forced to wear it for an entire day. The booze loosens me up, and the laughter shoves my worries away. We’ve been shooting the shit about men, movies, books (Oh, did I mention that this started out as a book club? What can I say? Fate got involved.), music, anything
not
work related.

Faye throws a tortilla chip at me as I study my cards. “Seriously? Isn’t there another way for you guys to get my attention that to chuck stuff at me?” Faye giggles and waves off my question.

“Whatever. I asked what you’re reading right now.”

I happen to have an addiction to steamy romance novels, and while plenty of women claim not to like them, I’m always being pestered about what I’m reading. If we had some way to connect our computers to human internet, I’d be telling them to check the blogs and leave me alone. But we don’t, so I’m stuck being their personal reference guide (it can become an unpleasant job when someone asks you how to pull out their anal beads or affix nipple clamps . . . ).

Ugh. All this talk about sex, and being well on my way to drunk, has my body screaming for Ean and the mind blowing releases we find together. I cross one leg over the other and squeeze, trying to alleviate the throbbing in my core and keep the flush of arousal from soaking my panties.
Would you get some fucking control of your—no, no, no! Stop thinking about fucking right this minute.
Right, focus. What was I saying?

“I’m reading a series that follows one family, each book a different brother or sister. I love it. The oldest brother, Dante, is like sex on a fucking stick.” The girls laugh, but I can see I’ve caught their interest. I sigh, “I’ll pick one up for you guys next time I go to the human realm.” I’m rewarded with four beaming smiles and one glower.

“Oh, get that ugly expression off your face, Fate,” Calista chides, “I’ve seen the stash of books you have in hiding. You’re like a guy with his closet of porn, for fuck’s sake.”

I stifle a laugh. Fate rolls her eyes and looks back at her cards. “I’ll admit I’ve read a few, and don’t get me wrong, my fuck buddies are grateful for the inventive ideas I get from them. But, sometimes I just can’t get over the ridiculous. I mean, who the hell thinks a cock is ‘beautiful’?”
Ok, I’ll give her that one.
“When a guy whips out his dick, I’m not focusing on where it ranks on the beauty scale. I’m measuring it, and deciding which hole I want it in. I either want to suck it or fuck it.”

All five of us burst into laughter, the deep kind that comes straight from your belly, stealing your breath, and making your chest and cheeks ache. I’m laughing so hard that I don’t notice how close to the edge of my chair I am until I’ve collided with the shiny, and quite firm, wooden floor. This just sets off another round of boisterous giggles until our faces are streaming with tears.

“Fate, don’t you believe in romance at all?” Faye asks.

Fate rolls her eyes, which seems to make her dizzy, because she groans and drops her head into her palms. “I don’t need that shit complicating my life. It’s not that I think romance is dead,” her words are muffled, buried in her hands. Then she lifts her eyes and gives us a sloppy grin, “I’m just keeping it in a medically induced coma.” Our peals of laughter are so unruly and loud, they bounce off the walls in a bright echo.

Abruptly, Fate raises her hand and begins to wave wildly, “Fuck buddy!” We all instantly turn in the direction she’s called, to see Brannon leaning against the door jam, arms and legs crossed, and a completely annoyed expression marring his otherwise beautiful face. At Fate’s pronouncement, my eyebrows shoot to the ceiling, Hayleigh freezes in shock, and Brannon’s expression quickly shifts to horror. “Knock it off, Fate—” He breaks off and a look of realization manifests. I’m pretty sure I know where his mind has gone, ok scratch that. I’m pretty sure that if I wasn’t so damn drunk, I’d know where his mind has gone.

“Do you think I’m Kendrix?” His voice is knowing, and he’s now sporting a cunning smile. I can’t help but notice that Hayleigh’s posture immediately relaxes.

“Aw, come on, fuck buddy. Stop pretending to be Brannon! I’m lonely, and all this talk of penises has me ready for a ride, cowboy!” If there weren’t so much liquor flowing through our veins, I imagine we’d all be staring at Fate in utter astonishment. Instead, we resume our painful rounds of laughter and start tossing chips over at Fate.

“Too much information, you whore bag!” I gasp, in between panting for air. “Chunk, I’m pretty much OD-ing on all your bullshit stories!” My laughter starts to ebb, and my heartrate slows, but I’m so exhausted that I drop from my sitting position to sprawl on the floor, my head twisted to the side. Two converse covered feet are suddenly in my sightline. I know those feet. I think.

I muster the energy to turn my head and look up into Brannon’s face as he leans over me. “Goonies, Laila? Really?” He reaches a hand down and I stare at it, not sure what I’m supposed to do with it. “Come on, doll,” he says, with an exasperated sigh. “Let me help you up. I’ll get your wasted ass into a bed.” Yes. Bed, I can dig that. I think there is a room at the end of the hall. I think? What was I going there for? Oh right, bed.

My hand magically appears in his and I’m swiftly hauled to my feet, my arm slung around Brannon’s shoulder. Good thing too, because the room is spinning like a mofo. Just how many beers did I have?

Coffee.
Holy hell, I need coffee. I stumble into Fate’s retro, fifties kitchen and thank everything that is good and holy when I see her, standing at the counter, pouring two steaming cups of heaven. She pushes one toward me after I collapse onto one of the red vinyl stools at the large island in the center of the room. Without a word or even a nod (let’s not encourage the sledgehammering bastards in my head to get back to work) I lift the mug and drink life back into my half dead body.
Why do you do this to yourself, idiot?

Damn. I thought that snide little bitch was still asleep. I tell my inner self to shut the fuck up until I get some more caffeine in my system.

“Where are the others?” I wince as Fate’s question bounces around my head.

“Calista was still sleeping when I passed the other guest room. I think Kendrix took Hayleigh and Faye home because I didn’t see them,” I whisper.

“Brannon.”

I lift my head and look at Fate blearily. “What about Brannon?”

She lifts her coffee to her lips but not before I see the smug smile she is trying to hide, her amethyst eyes dancing. I don’t know why I drink with her, she never gets a hangover and inevitably, in the morning, I hate her cheery guts.
I ask again . . .
Oh, shut the hell up, would you?

“It was Brannon here last night, not Kendrix.” Oh.

“Why did I think it was Kendrix?” I grumble. Her eyes narrow and she studies me, her face devoid of expression. After a moment, she shrugs and takes her mug to the pot for a refill. She reaches up to the cupboard for another mug just as Calista drops onto the stool next to me.

“Morning,” Fate says as she sets a full mug in front of her.

“Would you stop fucking screaming, Fate?” she growls, snatching the mug and taking a big swallow.

Calista’s hangovers really aren’t any worse than mine, however, her bitchiness is boosted up like twenty levels. If I didn’t think it would make my head explode, I’d probably be laughing.

Fate calmly continues to sip her coffee, and then sets it on the counter with a little snap, snickering when Calista and I groan simultaneously. “Get it together enough to listen to me, you two. I’ve got work to do, but we need to talk first.” Blinking rapidly, I try to focus my eyes on her and eventually, they begin to clear. She’s showered, dressed, and ready for the day. I totally hate her right now. Some of my focus returns to my drink, but I wave my hand at her, indicating that I’m listening and for her to continue. “I’m warning you guys now, and I’ll have a talk with Ean and Aden when they get back, but something is brewing. Something dark. The problem is that nothing is clear enough for me to share any solid information. I’ve got my eye on someone, but his decisions keep changing constantly, and I can’t get a handle on where he is going to land.” Fate blows out a frustrated breath and rubs at a stress line on her forehead. There aren’t many who see the woman underneath the crazy exterior, and I’m always taken aback by it a little. I never get used to seeing this side of her, the jewel tone of her eyes darkening to a deep purple, stress and worry tightening her features. “The thing is, I’m pretty sure he’s a fate reader.”

My coffee mug hangs suspended in front of my mouth and I have no words.

Calista’s hands dive into her hair and she tugs and the short, spiky strands. “Please say you are just bullshitting me to mess with my hangover.”

“Do you really think I would joke about this, Calista? The fact that I’m not one hundred percent sure if I’m right is freaking me the fuck out as it is,” Fate snaps. She scrubs her hands over her face and then looks to the ceiling. “I’ve never been unable to recognize a fate reader.” Her voice is calmer now, but that just makes the bleakness of her tone so much clearer. “I can only assume that it’s because he is a Fallen. I can barely see the fate of dark fae. Which is even more frustrating because I get tiny flashes of the Fallen council’s decisions as it relates to their destinies. The only thing I can gather from all the pieces is that they are searching for someone. I’m putting as much energy as I can into finding out who it is, but so far, I’ve come up with nothing.”

I reach across the island and grab one of her hands, getting her attention. “What do you need from us?” I ask steadily.

“Laila, I’m going need you in the field.” She watches for my reaction through sympathetic eyes and I can’t help but appreciate it. It’s not like I have a problem being an active protector, it just means less time training with the students, and I hate messing with the regimen. But, Fate would never ask this of me if it wasn’t vital. I won’t be assigned charges like a regular guard in the field, rather I’ll be called in on a case by case basis to help sway leath leanbh who are wavering on the edge of light and dark. My ability to connect with my students is not just about my knowledge and skills in magic and fighting. I also have a powerful gift for persuasion.

“It’s not a problem, babe. I got your back.” Giving her a reassuring smile, I hop off of my stool to head back to my room and shower. Calista and Fate continue talking quietly, strategizing on how the council can be of the most help.

The worlds are going to Hell in a handbasket and I realize that the disaster that is my relationship, or whatever you want to call it, with Ean, needs be sorted out. One way or another.