Loving Ean (The Fae Guard Book 2) (33 page)

She starts shaking her head as she finishes dressing in record time. “I don’t—I’m not sure—” She backing away toward the front door as she stutters out broken phrases. “I don’t know what to do with this right now, Ean.” She’s at the door now and she grasps the handle, “I need some time.” The door opens and she hastily retreats into the hall, shutting the door.

Ok. Ok, time I can work with.

I CALL OUT MOVEMENTS
to a student practicing his martial arts, correcting him when necessary. I’m going through the motions, reacting on the instinct born from years and years of teaching. On the inside however, my stomach is churning and my brain is a jumbled mess of confusion.

Brain? No, your LIFE is a jumbled mess of confusion.
True.

I wanted to flush myself down the toilet when I woke up last week and realized I’d slept with Ean. Pathetic and slut are crappy words to string together, and yet, they both applied to me. What the hell was I thinking? Oh, right. Those two words again . . .

I told Ean I needed some time. Another shining moment of “what the fuckery?” He made his choice. I’m trying to move on—it’s done. Right? There is a part of me that believes I should let him go, watch him suffer in misery for eternity for being such a stupid, stupid, stupid, fucking idiot.
I think she’s still pretty pissed.
Then there is another part of me who wants to forgive him and trust that we have a future together. But, she’s afraid that he’ll turn into a stupid, stupid, stupid, fucking idiot, again. Then what? Could I survive to have him shatter my heart like that again? I’ve let the part of me that’s furious have her fun this week though, giving Ean the cold shoulder.
Immature?
Maybe.
Satisfying?
Hell yeah.

Still, I’m no closer to figuring out what I should do. It always drives me crazy in my romance novels when the hero makes a major fuck-up, then flashes his panty-melting smile, kisses the hell out of her, apologizes (I throw the book at the wall if she lets him skip this step! Doormat!) and BOOM, all if forgiven. So, the fact that I’m even considering doing the forgive/forget thing makes me want to hang my head in shame. But hey, my decisions don’t reflect the overall image of my gender and I’ve got to do what is right for me.

So, let’s look at this objectively.

Panty-melting smile?
Check. Check.

Kissing the hell out of me?
Took it further and fucked the hell out of me. Triple check.

Apology?
Check

I even got the coveted “I Love You.”
Check x infinity.

So, it’s really just about the math.

I’M STARING AT THE
door in front of me, taking deep breathes, and counting all of the grains in the redwood, and trying to grow a pair of balls. Because I’ve clearly lost mine, considering that I’m dreading facing Fate and her inevitable “I told you so,” and the groveling that is sure to be required to get her help. I’m almost knocked on my ass when the door flies open and Fate is standing in front of me, a knowing smirk on her angelic face.
Angelic. Ha!
“My door can’t possibly be that fascinating, so I’m going to choose ‘Ean the idiot’ for five hundred, Alex.”

A microphone appears in Fate’s hand. “The answer is ‘groveling,’ Fate.” Her voice carries through the ludicrous mic and comes out sounding like Jeopardy host, Alex Trebek.

Seriously. I can’t make this shit up.

“Well, Alex, I’m going to have to go with ‘Why is Ean here?’ Her voice is her own now, but still amplified. Out of nowhere, confetti explodes over our heads and I hear Alex again, “We have a winner!”

A minute later, everything disappears in a poof (yes, she made it poof, the showoff). I’m still standing in the same spot, my arms folded over my chest, feet braced apart, and I’ve managed to adopt a look of boredom that hasn’t slipped throughout her little act. “I know that spectacle wasn’t for my benefit. You want to let me in on what all that was for?”

Fate shrugs, “For funzies.” She turns and walks down the hall without another word, clearly expecting me to follow.

I come in, shut the door behind me, and trail after Fate until we reach her office. The walls and furniture are a creamy white, the curtains a somewhat shimmery lime green, and the same color, with a splash of chocolate brown accents, gives the room a sophisticated air. Considering Fate’s loud and colorful personality, the subdued atmosphere always gives me pause. Example A of said personality is her current wardrobe. Her long, straight, white-blonde hair is twisted into some kind of bun thing on top of her head, and her makeup is colorful and exotic looking. Her long, bright pink, leopard print is paired with royal blue leggings, and flat, dancer-type shoes in the same pink, except they are covered in sparkles. Let’s not overlook the rainbow of colorful, chunky jewelry. I rest my case.

She moves around her large, mahogany desk, and lowers herself into a white, leather chair. Her hands come up and steeple under her chin, a sinister grin spread so wide, I can see her teeth. She gestures toward one of the chairs facing her, then her hand returns to its previous position. I sit down, eyeing her warily, wondering if she’s going to make me do something outlandish to prove the level of my remorse.

There is a pregnant pause as we stare at each other. “Go ahead,” she finally breaks the silence.

When she doesn’t say anything else, I wonder if all she’s looking for is an apology and a “You were right.” I don’t wait for her to change her mind. “I’ve pulled my head out of my ass, as you so eloquently put it. You were absolutely right. Laila is the best thing that has ever, and will ever, happen to me and I almost threw it away. I should have known better and listened to your advice. Is that what you want to hear?” I silently kick myself for that last comment, being insolent will only get you onto the fast track to “go fuck yourself.”

Fate’s eyes narrow, glaring at me, and I try to look properly contrite. I’m sure it comes to no shock to you that apologies and humility are pretty foreign to me. The only thing saving me here is the fact that she knows, in all honesty, that my apology is sincere. “Fine. You need to seriously work on your groveling skills, but we’ll move on for now. I’m assuming you’re here about Laila, yes?” I nod. “You want my help winning her back, to tell you what you need to do to grasp at the destiny that includes her.” Her questions are more like statements, needing only a nod in agreement. “I know it’s my job to deal with people’s soulmates, but where exactly do you see the sign that says:
Yenta services available?
” Her nose scrunches up as though she smells something foul. “I’m not a matchmaker, dipstick. You’re on your own with this one.” Her expression smoothes out, her eyes in narrow slits, and she points a finger at me. “You’re lucky as hell that I didn’t sever your connection.”

She’ll never know how grateful I am for that, and I don’t intend to tell her because she’ll just hold it over my head for the rest of eternity. On the flip side, what the fuck does she mean that she won’t help me? “Wait, you’re going to leave me hanging on this? Are you kidding?”

Fate leans back in her chair, looking bored, and tapping her jeweled fingers in irritation. “I’ve done my job, Ean. I guided you toward the right path. It’s up to you to figure out how to achieve that destiny. Now, I want to talk about this cretin who is going after your leath leanbh. I want to know—”

“Hold up,” I interrupt. “For over a year I’ve been coming to you to talk about my job and you always changed the subject to Laila. Now, I’m here to get your advice about her and you’re changing the subject to my job?”

“Yeah, so?” Fate stares at me, a finely arched, blonde brow lifted in query.

I shake my head, annoyed, but also, just damn confused. “I don’t understand you.”

Her head bobs sympathetically, “I know. Sucks for you, doesn’t it?”

I glower at her and my lips turn down in a—yes, ok? I’m pouting.
Holy fuck, be a man would you?
I quickly shift my features, blanking my face. “Fine. Let’s get on with it.” I rest against the back of my chair and run my hands through my hair. Heated frustration is mounting in me and I’m not sure how much further it can go before the mercury blasts out of the top of the thermometer. “You’ve been dancing around this subject all this time, why are you ready to open up this discussion now?” I prod.

“You all seem to forget that I’m not the ‘be all, end all’ around here. That’s the big man upstairs.” She jerks her thumb toward the ceiling with an odd look on her face, one I can’t interpret. “My abilities have limits too. Especially when it applies to the Fallen. Their decisions, their paths, are clouded and hard for me to see. The only thing I knew was that, to a certain extent, you were right. It was becoming increasingly clear that the Fallen were targeting your kids more so than any others. That’s all I’ve had, Ean. I wasn’t holding back on you. I had nothing else to give you. And, telling you anything else wouldn’t have helped you anyway.”

Her words surprise me and I start to play out our conversations in my head. Well, fuck. She’s been implying that all along, but I was so sure she was keeping things from me that I didn’t pick up on it. “I—you’re right,” I splutter. “I was—I am a complete bastard.” Shaking my head, I smile ruefully at her. “I really did have my head up my ass, didn’t I?”

Fate gives me a dry look but doesn’t respond to my comment. “So, now that we know who is pulling the strings, I have been able to isolate his decisions a lot more. Before, it was just me sifting through their darkness hoping to stumble across the wizard behind the curtain.”

“So? What do I need to do? Just get rid of him?” I don’t relish the idea of ending another life, but if he’s endangering my charges, he’s got to go.

At first, Fate is silent, a faraway look in her eyes as she stares at nothing, lost in her thoughts. I don’t know if she’s just thinking, or if she’s a million miles away from here. Her fingers begin to tap the desk top again and her brows dip over her eyes, a pensive frown now on her face. “No, something is off here and I think he could help give us a better direction.” She looks directly into my eyes, her purple gems having lost their sparkle, and darkened until they are almost black. “From what I’ve been able to discern, this Aodhagan, he’s worked closely with the Fallen council for the century or so. It’s possible that this punk could shed some light on their plans.”