Shadow Soldier (12 page)

None of it felt right, though. She should be doing something, not sitting around indulging in chocolate and wine. Especially not when Cade and the other guys were still locked away in the Bastille. Unfortunately, she didn’t know how to free them, and even if she could, she had no way of getting them out of the city. Deke would be the most logical person to ask for help, but she’d already caused him enough suffering. Next time, Roux didn’t know if she’d be able to talk her way out of trouble.

On top of everything else, she had to worry about some weird, soul bond now. Abby hadn’t given her a satisfactory answer, but she didn’t want to go down that conversational road with Deke, either. Abby had made it sound like some big, romantic overture to be coveted, but Roux just knew that it made her act like a psycho.

It explained several things, not just about her behavior, but about Deke’s as well. The way he’d kissed her in the bakery, how he always seemed to find a reason to touch her. He constantly worried about her, whether she had enough to eat or if she needed medical attention for nothing more than a black eye.

In the woods the night before, she remembered thinking Deke would have ended Phelps’ miserable existence if given the provocation. If the werewolf hadn’t released her when he had, he probably wouldn’t have lived to see the sunrise. As it stood, he’d only made it a few extra hours before pissing Deke off again.

She had to wonder if the captain’s reaction would have been so violent had Phelps threatened anyone besides her. While he’d sounded angry, he hadn’t been in a big hurry to defend Bethany. She felt confident that he wouldn’t have let anything happen to the young woman, but she doubted he’d have killed for her.

Roux sat there for so long, trying to work out what she knew and what she felt, she nearly jumped out of her skin when the front door opened.

“Why is the door unlocked?” Deke demanded, entering the living room to flop down on the sofa beside her. “Brownies?”

“Abby came by. I guess I forgot to lock the door when she left.” She sat her wine glass on the coffee table and offered him the tin of brownies. “How was patrol?”

“Quiet, thankfully. What did Abby want?”

“Just to check on me.” He looked so tired, almost adorably so, and she didn’t want to bombard him with questions, but she had to ask about the inquiry. “She said that a Warden might want to talk to me about what happened today.”

“Probably.” His broad shoulders lifted in a shrug. “It’s just a formality. Tell the truth, kitten, and you’ll be fine.”

“Abby registered me,” she told him, her muscles tense while she waited for his reaction.

Slowly, Deke sat up on the cushion and angled toward her. “How do you feel about that?”

“Honestly, I don’t know.” She was more interested to hear how he felt about it. “I’m grateful that she thought to cover my ass, and since I’ve already decided to stay, I suppose it’s only going to help.”

Deke pressed his lips together, but it didn’t hide the amusement that glinted in his eyes. “I thought you hadn’t decided.”

“Deke, please. I have no idea what I’m fucking doing.”

She wanted to ask him what it meant to be a mate, how it different from being a companion. She wanted to ask him a million questions, but she didn’t know if she was ready for the answers.

“I’m glad Abby registered you, and I’m glad you’ve decided to stay.” Inching closer, he brushed his fingertips down her bruised cheek and sighed. “It saves me the trouble of having to convince you.” He leaned in even closer, his lips hovering just an inch from hers. “Just so you know, I was prepared to pull out all the stops.”

Roux didn’t move, didn’t breathe. Her gaze fixed on his mouth, and when he closed the distance between them, she closed her eyes with a soft moan. He kissed her sweetly, just a soft rub of his lips, but the intimate touch made her heart race and her head spin.

“Are you ready for bed?” he asked, pulling away from her.

Dazed, Roux nodded. “Um, there’s leftovers in the fridge if you’re hungry.”

“I’m hungry,” he admitted, his heated gaze raking over her, “just not for food.” Then he kissed her again and stood. “Goodnight, kitten.”

Roux watched him walk down the hallway and disappear into his bedroom. She didn’t know what she’d expected to happen or if she’d wanted more than that chaste kiss. His parting words had stoked the embers of desire, but then, he’d just walked away.

“Men,” she mumbled, rising from the sofa to carry her glass and the brownies into the kitchen.

She’d never understood human men, and she didn’t see why a shifter male should be any different. In many ways, things had been so much simpler when she’d been running for her life. At least Cade and the others hadn’t expected more from her than to watch their backs and pick a few locks.

Even if he hadn’t said it, Deke wanted more, so much more, and he’d already convinced her to stay in Trinity Grove. The man posed a real threat to her, but not for the reasons she’d initially believed. In just one day, he’d gotten under her skin and made her question everything she’d thought she knew.

Yes, he was dangerous, because while she didn’t know if she could give him what he wanted, in a small corner of her heart, she was willing to try.

The next several days passed in relative quiet, and by week’s end, Deke was losing his patience. Roux had something on her mind, and he’d hoped by giving her space, she’d eventually confide in him. He should have known better. His stubborn mate never did anything the easy way.

She’d been unusually docile, less combative, but that worried him more than her sharp tongue. A part of him actually missed her constant threats to kill him. She didn’t complain about staying inside when he went out for patrol, nor had she freaked out about being a registered companion. She’d even requested her token be a replica of his dog tags.

When he’d taken her to the registration office to receive her vaccines—a Coalition inoculation that would protect her from any future illness and help her heal faster—she’d only complained about the needle. He’d been a little disappointed when she’d eagerly accepted the birth control shot Abby had offered, but the rational part of him knew it was for the best.

Unlike human methods for birth control, the injection the Coalition doctors had concocted lasted for a full year with a hundred percent effectiveness. That gave him an entire twelve months to work on being a better mate before he even thought about becoming a father.

At no point during the week had she asked to see her friends, but Deke had still taken her to the Bastille, and he’d done his best not to eavesdrop. Goddess, he’d even gone to Abby for advice, but the female wouldn’t tell him anything, except that he should talk to Roux. He’d felt the need to remind her that if Roux would actually talk to him, he wouldn’t have needed to seek out her counsel in the first place.

Blowing out a frustrated breath, he untangled himself from the sheets and sat up on the side of his bed. The sun had already crested over the eastern horizon, but the morning remained dark and gloomy as storm clouds gathered overhead. Considering how his week had been going, it didn’t surprise him that it would rain on his only day off, not that he had anything exciting planned. Still, the depressing gray skies did nothing to improve his mood.

He’d fought against werewolves and vampires. He’d battled the Ravagers, and on boring days, he led an entire city of guards. Yet, he couldn’t contend with one human female.

Snorting at the absurdity of it all, he rubbed both hands over his face and stood. He’d let her mope, or think, or whatever she’d been doing for the past week, and they’d tried it her way, but no more.

An upbeat pop song played on the stereo in the living room—one of those boy-band songs from the nineties—and the scent of sizzling bacon wafted to him from the kitchen. So, Roux was already awake. Good. Now, she was going to talk to him, whether she liked it or not.

Pulling on a pair of black basketball shorts, he shuffled out of his room and down the hallway to the bathroom. He took his time, going through his morning routine on autopilot, then headed for the kitchen to find his mate.

Dressed only in the T-shirt he’d given her that first night, Roux bounced and wiggled, dancing to the music as she searched through the contents of the refrigerator. She pulled out the orange juice and set it on the counter, letting the door swing closed as she sashayed back to the stove to flip the bacon.

Deke paused at the entryway of the kitchen, leaning his shoulder against the wall, and just watched her. She’d gained a little weight since she’d arrived in Trinity Grove, and her fair skin had lost its sickly hue. Her hair fell in spiraling curls down her back, the chestnut-brown locks shining with renewed health. She’d never looked more beautiful.

When she started to sing, he bit the inside of his cheek, but he couldn’t stop the smile that stretched his lips. She had the voice of an angel, but she couldn’t carry a tune in a bucket. What she lacked in talent, she made up for in enthusiasm, and it loosened the knot in Deke’s chest to see her happy for a change.

Roux pulled a tray of fresh, golden-brown biscuits from the oven, and while they smelled delicious, they didn’t make his mouth water nearly as much as the sight of her bare, slender legs. Pushing away from the wall, he moved silently across the floor, not even stirring the air, until he stood just behind her. He inhaled her sweet scent, then released the breath with a rumbling purr as he settled his hands on her hips, pulling her back against his chest.

“Good morning, kitten.”

Roux shrieked and spun around, slapping him in the chest and shoulders with a plastic spatula. “Damn it, Deke! Don’t do that!” Her fingertips slid over his bare stomach, and her eyes widened almost comically. “Where is your shirt? Why aren’t you wearing a shirt? You could…could…you’ll catch a cold!”

“It’s the middle of summer and eighty-five degrees.”

“Yes, well…”

Deke chuckled, wrapping his arms around her waist to pull her closer. “Do I make you nervous, kitten?”

“What? No.” With a cute sigh, she dropped her forehead to his chest and relaxed into him. “Yes,” she whispered. “That’s actually what I wanted to talk to you about.”

“Is that why you made breakfast? Are you trying to bribe me, Miss Jennings?”

Lifting her head, she looked up at him through her thick, dark lashes. “More like a peace offering. You know, for being such a maudlin bitch the past few days.”

Deke couldn’t stop smiling at her. Tucking a strand of hair behind her ear, he cupped the side of her face and bent to kiss her brow. “Do you need help?”

After a brief hesitation, Roux bit her lip and tilted her head to the side. “You could pour the orange juice and get the plates.”

She didn’t say anything else while she finished preparing breakfast, and Deke respected her unspoken request for quiet as he set the table, complete with two glasses of orange juice. Once seated, however, with only the clink of forks against their plates to fill the silence, the atmosphere in the kitchen changed from comfortable to awkward, much like it had been in previous days.

“You wanted to talk to me about something?” he prodded. “What’s on your mind?”

Roux didn’t respond right away, and as the seconds ticked by, Deke worried she wouldn’t answer him. Her shoulders tensed, and she held her fork in a white-knuckle grip while she stared down at her plate.

“Is this about Phelps? What happened wasn’t your fault. You have nothing to feel guilty about.”

The Wardens had ruled it justifiable force, which he’d known they would. The questioning had lasted less than an hour, a formality more than anything. Deke was no stranger to death and carnage, but that didn’t mean he enjoyed killing. Still, if he had it to do over, he wouldn’t hesitate to end that miserable mutt’s life—or anyone else who dared to threaten his mate.

“I know,” Roux whispered. “I don’t feel great about dragging you into it, but I don’t feel guilty about Phelps, either.”

“Then, what is it?” Lowering his fork, he reached across the table and took her hand, squeezing firmly when she tried to pull away. “Knock it off, and just talk to me.”

“Are we…mates?” She waved her other hand. “Wait, no, don’t answer that.”

“Roux—”

“No, I’m being a coward. I know we have this mating bond thing.” Instead of struggling to free herself, she returned Deke’s grip and met his gaze. “I guess I’m just trying to figure out what that means.”

He didn’t try to placate or patronize her. It didn’t matter where she’d heard about mating bonds, but Deke had a pretty good idea who had dropped that bit of information. He’d deal with Abby later.

“Is that what’s been bothering you?”

“Among other things.” Shrugging, she pulled her hand out of his grasp and leaned away. “So, it’s like soul mates, but not. Or, it’s more?” Roux dropped her head back on her shoulders and covered her face with both hands. “This is so fucking confusing.”

“It’s really not that complicated, kitten.” He paused for a minute, trying to think of an example that would fit more into her scope of understanding. “Have you ever had something happen—good or bad—that seemed random at first? Then later, it feels almost like it was meant to happen?”

Roux lowered her hands and looked at him, her brow furrowed. “Sure, I guess. My roommate asked me to pick up her dry cleaning once. I figured I’d just swing by before I went to work, even though the cleaner was in the opposite direction. I took a different route to work that day.” She looked down at the table, her gaze soft and a little sad. “There was a seven-car pileup on the highway I usually took to get to the diner. Four people died.”

Not exactly what he’d meant. “Okay, well, the mating bond is kind of like that, only less morbid.”

Yep, great, he’d just compared their connection to vehicular manslaughter. That would win her over. It had made sense in his head, but out loud, he sounded like an idiot, and he was making a fucking mess of explaining his world to her. Goddess, why had he thought this would be easy?

“It’s fate,” he said simply, boiling his explanation down to its most basic form. “It’s intense and unpredictable. One minute, it makes all the sense in the world, and the next, you can’t make heads or tails of it.”