The Lycan Hunter (The Gardinian World Series) (39 page)

She rolled over and called down to the kitchen for something to eat
before she ventured to use the bathroom and get dressed for the day.

After throwing on a pale green slip dress that hugged at her rapidly-
growing breasts and flowed away from her equally-rounded middle, she ventured to her vanity to find an unfamiliar box resting on top.

She opened it to find the sword she had designed, laying among
black silk. The sword was beautiful, complete with the subtle aggressive
touches she’d married to the softer curves of the blade’s hilt. It was a representation of the male who would wield it – the hard edges for
his aggressive side, the curves for his compassionate side. If she hadn
’
t
designed it for Kyran, Alexis would have been tempted to keep it for herself. She looked around the room, expecting Lykil to explain how long it had been on her dresser.

“Kyran hasn’t seen it; don’t worry.”

Alexis turned around to face Torin, who leaned against the closed
bathroom door. She smiled at his angular features. He was dressed in
cream-colored pants with a button up shirt the color of graphite. She
couldn
’
t take her eyes off of him, unable to believe he was with her as
if she hadn’t lost him at all.

“You can come here?”

“Yeah, but if you
’
re thinking that I can come back whenever I want
,
no. There are rules to being dead. Being alive is one of them. The most
important in fact.” He laughed, which eased the sting she felt in her
chest. “The only reason I’m allowed to be seen is because I’m playing a part in this wedding, so I have to be visible.”

“Really?”

There was an unspoken ‘duh’ in the way he raised an eyebrow at her.

“You need some family here, Lex, and I doubt Mom and Dad
would have RSVP’d.”

A slight shiver coursed through her at the mention of her parents
.
Torin was wrong on one point. Their parents would have RSVP
’
d, but
they wouldn
’
t bring gifts of well wishes. Unless silver bullets and
violence could be considered a gift.

They heard a soft, f
eminine
knock on the door, which Torin answered.
Alexis tried to see who was at the door when she heard a gasp, but Torin
fully blocked whoever it was from view with his broad shoulders.
Judging by the fact that Torin explained his relation to her and the fact
that he was a Hermod, whoever it was, had assumed the worse of her.

Torin set a tray of food at a small table that Kyran had set up for her
and motioned for her to sit. She did, but only because her stomach
lurched at the smell of scrambled eggs and pancakes. If she hadn’t
been so hungry, she would have sworn that it wasn
’
t hunger that made
her stomach heave. That was a crazy thought, however. It was too early in
the baby’s development for there to be any movement, regardless of how much she already showed.

Alexis was scraping the last of the eggs onto her fork when Lykil
appeared in the chair opposite of her. Torin had decided to go find
Kyran and help out any way he could, leaving her to eat in silence.

“Why don
’
t you have the TV on?” Lykil said as he waved his hand
at it, turning it on.

“I was enjoying the silence.”

“Really?”

She laughed at him, his face caught between abject horror and disbelief.

“Yes, really. Kyran said I’m going to have a long day. I figured I could purge my head of all the unnecessary thoughts I have running around in my mind.”

He angled his body towards her, appearing genuinely interested.

“Like what?”

“Like you in a shirt. I thought you didn’t wear shirts.”

He looked down at it as if he just noticed he wore a complete outfit
for a change.

“You like it?”

The ‘shirt’ in question was more like duct tape, in both color and fit.
She tried to focus on anything besides the way it clung to his biceps.
Or the way it displayed his pecs and the hard ridges of his abs. She tried
and failed, but she settled on the humorous side of the shirt.

“Is it cold in here?” she asked, motioning to his peaked nipples.

He exhaled an offended huff crossed his arms over his chest. She snickered at him which only earned her a glare.

“Jerk.”

“It
’
s not my fault you got dressed in the Tiny Tim section of the
department store.”

He laughed but tried to frown to cover it. “Nice one,” he said, a smile brightening his rugged features. “Is this better?”

The shirt he now wore was the same color and style, but looser.
That didn’t stop it from clinging desperately to his biceps. Alexis doubted
that a designer existed in all the four worlds that could hide the girth of his arms without draping him in a tent of fabric.

“Yeah, that’s better. I take it you’re coming to the ceremony?”

“Duh.”

She rolled her eyes. “It
’
s supposed to be unspoken. Has more impact
that way.”

“What does?”

She raised her eyebrows slightly at him as if he was stupid.
Duh
.

“I swear I can hear it when you and
Torin
do that. Fucking
annoying.
”

Duh
. “That’s why we do it.”

“Stop that.”

“What?”

“The unspoken
duh.
It’s annoying.”

“Only because you can’t do it.”

“So?” He let out a long sigh. “Dammit, I came here for a reason,” he said, but the words held no heat.

“Trying to see how many Lycans you can scare with just your
presence?”

“No.”

“See how long Torin and I will endure your presence before we
boot you back to Gardas?”

“I want to see you try, but no.” His smile was mischievous. “I’m part of the ceremonies.”

“The God of Destruction is part of a
wedding
ceremony?”

“
I’m part of yours, woman. Everyone isn
’
t special enough to warrant
my presence.”

“But, why?” She made it sound like a desperate plea that he would
change his mind.

“That was mean. I’m going tell…” He frowned. “Who do I tell?” He paused, really thinking. “Your parents are awful and might make the punishment a bit much. Don’t you think?”

“They do have a tendency to
overreact,
” she
agreed
with a
nonchala
nt
attitude she didn’t feel.

“Oh, well,” he said with a shrug. “Want to shoot something?”

She nodded, knowing that he would pull his video game system
from thin air. Alexis tried to focus on something other than the thread
of dread that wound itself into the pit of her stomach. The one that
rolled around, pitching a fit in the form of tiny kicks and punches.
The mention of her parents only served to make her breakfast revolt against her.

“Are you coming?” Lykil said, drawing her out of the downward
spiraling of her mood.

She looked up to find that they weren’t her room anymore.

“I love you for this, but Kyran is going to freak out,” she said.

That didn't stop her from relishing in the smell of spent lead and
the clatter of shell casings on the concrete floor of a gun range. The
building was an unassuming erection of stacked stones, covered with
chipping grey paint. They walked through a nothing-special version of
a metal slab door and up to the grey haired woman behind the counter
.

The woman was all muscled edges, even though she appeared to
be in her early sixties. She was polite, but she used as few words as
possible to illustrate that as owner this was her turf, and she gave no
ground on the rules that she dictated to them. When she was finishe
d, she had them fill out some forms and pick out their weapons.

This range specialized in a variety of assault rifles and other weapons
the average public didn’t have access to. Alexis wondered how Lykil
had gotten them in to what appeared to be a non-descript government
gun range, but she would wait until after they left to inquire. No need
in ruining a perfectly good outing for nothing. Lykil picked out an
MP5 K, a compact submachine gun, while Alexis stuck with the Mark 23,
a .45 caliber semi-automatic pistol.

Slowly, the tension that gathered in her shoulders relaxed, and a
sense of calm settled over her with the continuous clatter of shell casings
against the pavement. The sound of targets shredding under the impact
of bullets excited her in the most sensual ways. In short, she had a thing
for weapons.

It did suck being pregnant though. The sounds coming from the MP5 was the sexiest thing on earth, but she was stuck with its distant
cousin. Recoil was a bitch with no use for pregnant chicks and their
shifting center of gravity.

After two hours, they prepped their weapons for returning them
to the front desk and pulled in their targets. Lykil, of course, shredded
his center mark. Her target sheet was a mess compared to what she was
truly capable of. Many of the shots were around the center, but some seemed to take detours onto what-the-hell-was-she-aiming-for-ville. She sighed and followed Lykil, throwing hers into the trash with his.

Lykil reached back and grabbed hers, folded it neatly and placed it in his pocket.

“Put it back in there, Lykil. I don’t need the reminder of how bad I am.”

“It
’
ll be a reminder of how good you are after you deliver. Trust me.
Today isn’t an accurate assessment of your skills.”

“If you say so,” she mumbled.

They turned in their guns, thanked the owner, and headed outside and
around the side of the building away from the view of the street.

“How do you feel, Alexis?”

“Irritated that my skills are so rusty, but otherwise feel fine.”

“Your skills aren
’
t bad, but that
’
s not what I meant. Are you more
relaxed now?”

She stood silent for a minute and thought about it. She nodded but
stayed silent.

Training was her way of relaxing. And though she made an effort
to go to the mansion
’
s gym regularly, nothing beat firing off a magazine
or two.

Lykil laid a hand on her shoulder, and as she turned to face him, the
world around them became a blur of color. When the colors resettled,
she was standing in her bedroom with Kyran casting a fleeting look
over her shoulder at Lykil.

“Where did you take her this time?”

“Gun range.”

“Oh,” Kyran said as he turned his attention to her. “Did you have
fun?”

“You’re not mad?”

“Why would I be?”

“Because you came up here, and I was gone.”

“I knew who took you.”

“How?”

“Torin told me. Besides, you needed that more than you needed to sit in here and sleep.”

Alexis frowned at Kyran as if he sprouted a new head. He generally
hated when Lykil absconded her. His lack of growling, bit back curses
, or threats of violence threw her off balance.

“How did you do?”

She watched Kyran for a few breaths. He seemed so relaxed she
wondered what he did to give him what appeared to be an unnatural
air of calm.

“I sucked. I need more practice.”

Lykil smoothed out her target on the table and motioned Kyran over.

“She thinks this is bad, but I tried to tell her that she
’
s just off
because of the pregnancy.”

Kyran nodded as he traced some of the target’s paper wounds.

“Come here, Alexis. I want you to see something.”

She went over and looked down at where his finger was pointing.

“You have a thing for bull’s-eye kill shots, don’t you?” When she
nodded, he pointed to three other points of entry. “These three are all
kill shots, too. These out here,” he motioned to some holes just off the
target’s body outline, “these happened when your center of gravity shifted. They’re close to your previous shots, but just off a little.”

She smiled down at the target, seeing how he so easily picked out
what she had easily thrown in the trash and marked as a failure.

“I told you that you didn’t do badly. Why is it so easy for you to trust his judgment but not mine?” Lykil said.

He sounded like he was whining, so Alexis gave him a placating smile.

“Kyran showed me. You just wanted me to blindly trust you.”

“If you would do that, my life would be so much easier,” he said
, his gaze held a banked heat.

“But where’s the fun in that?”

They both laughed and turned to find Kyran watching them both
with interest. He quietly made his way into the bathroom, which sobered
Alexis up and had her following him. She heard Lykil take a seat and the TV come on, the volume just a touch too soft for him to actually be listening to it.