The Lynx Who Claimed the Sun (15 page)

“What do you mean?” Garth inquired. He squeezed his mate’s hand, his eyes going to the red line again. “I thought shape-shifters healed from injuries as long as they lived through them.”

“They do,” the hummingbird replied, “but the elder… He has done some things.”

Garth stared at her and for the first time, he realized her nose was like Nicolas’s, of a smaller, more normal size. “Does this have anything to do with your nose?”

“You have good instincts, feline,” the old healer answered. “Yes, indeed. You see, everyone in the clan is convinced that we are granted the gift of the gods as we come of age. But have you ever seen other hummingbirds, outside the clan? They look exactly like Nicolas.

There is no coming of age change.”

It was Nicolas who interrupted the explanation. “I don’t understand,” he said in a raspy voice. “We all saw it with our own eyes.”

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Margarita and Felipe entered the hovel, but Garth didn’t pay them much heed. His entire focus was on his mate, on his beautiful mate who’d at last recovered consciousness. “Nico… Oh, Nico. Love, you’re back.”

Nicolas smiled at him. “You came to take me back, didn’t you?

How could I leave?”

Garth knew he shouldn’t push his mate, but he couldn’t hold himself back. He pressed his lips to Nicolas’s in a tentative kiss, needing the reassurance, needing to truly feel Nicolas was alive and well. Twice in the expanse of a couple of months, he’d been so close to losing Nicolas. Never again. From now on, Garth would dedicate his life to protect his mate and his family. Nothing was more important.

For a few moments, no one existed in the world except the two of them and the kiss that tasted like tears and relief. Garth didn’t even make the attempt to thrust his tongue into Nicolas’s mouth like he normally would have. It was enough to just feel Nicolas’s lips moving against his, to feel his mate’s sweet breath and known it would not be the last one.

All too soon, they broke apart, and Garth became aware of the presence of the other people in the room. He cleared his throat and turned toward the elderly hummingbird and silently nodded.

She didn’t seem to mind the interruption. In fact, she smiled, before her expression sobered and she began to speak again. “Dear boy, you don’t even know who I am, do you?” she told Nicolas.

Nicolas shook his head. “I’ve never seen you in my life.”

“Of course you haven’t. I’ve been hiding here under threat of death. Not even your parents knew of me until I contacted them.

“My name is Sara. I was a healer of our clan long before your time.” Her eyes misted, as if she were remembering those distant years. “Back then, we respected our legacy and accepted the good and the bad in being a hummingbird.

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“One day, a young lad came to me, wanting to be my apprentice.

He was sharp and good with plants, so I agreed. Little did I know that upon finding out the power herbs could have, he would twist it for his own sick purposes. By the time I realized how obsessed he was with the old ways of our ancestors, it was too late.”

She turned toward Nicolas. “Hummingbirds are not meant to have an acute sense of smell. The elder boosted abilities we are not supposed to have through the use of nectar of a flower created by him for that distinctive goal.”

“Genetic manipulation,” Garth’s medic said in a shocked voice.

Sara nodded. “At first, he claimed he was doing it all for us, to aid us in our fight against our enemies. Back then, we were still having some issues at our border lands with the snakes, so those in charge rushed to take his advice, even if he always had an almost fanatical loyalty toward the old ways. They did not realize the danger until it was too late.”

Garth might not have known too much about the diplomatic relationships between shifters in the area. He gathered there must be a perpetual conflict state. It made sense that the hummingbirds, who were by their nature in danger of becoming prey, would try to get an edge in this battle.

“Perhaps at that point, he truly believed he was doing the right thing,” Sara continued. “But men aren’t meant to be gods and interfere in divine creation. In time, it all got worse. Those who knew about it fled or died, and the young generation was left at his mercy. I admit I myself was afraid, and I only now dared to approach your parents, when I saw just how far he’d gone.”

“But why didn’t his plan have any effect on me?” Nicolas inquired. “Why didn’t those plants work?”

“I doubt they didn’t,” Sara answered. “For you, the process just didn’t manifest outwardly.”

“I did gain a sharpening of senses back then,” Nicolas murmured, almost to himself, “but it’s gone now.”

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“This particular nectar needs to be administered over and over for it to continue its effect,” the healer explained. “But it is also a way to twist nature. It must be destroyed.”

“You don’t have to worry about that anymore,” Byron’s voice sounded from outside. He came in, carrying the hummingbird elder over his shoulder. He dumped the unconscious man on the ground and said, “I don’t take kindly to have my friends attacked.”

He turned toward Garth and added, “You take care of your mate, Garth. I’ll handle this filth.”

Garth was torn between accepting the more than generous offer and claiming his right to avenge his mate’s suffering. His beast roared, demanding to take revenge on the elder hummingbird who’d tortured so many people for his own selfish purposes.

But before he could decide, Nicolas leaned against him and said,

“No. His own people have to judge him. They will decide once they learn everything that has been said here.”

“The boy is right,” the old healer said. “We shall let the people decide. They need to be told about this.”

Garth didn’t comment. Perhaps they had a point. In the end, as much as it irked him, the hummingbirds needed to deal with their mistake in their own way.

He shared a look with Byron. If the hummingbirds eventually decided their elder was not guilty after all, Garth would make sure the man would not live to make any suffer, ever again.

But all thoughts of revenge disappeared when Nicolas’s small voice suddenly said, “I…don’t feel right.” Garth’s mate wheezed. As he moved, the wound that had started to seal under the healer’s ministrations reopened.

Nicolas reached for his face and gaped at his hand came out bloody. “Garth, what’s wrong with me?” he asked. “Why am I not healing?”

“You’re healing, child,” Sara tried to say. “That wound is going to scar, yes, but it’s nothing to be ashamed of.”

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Nicolas shot to his feet and dashed outside. He moved so fast, impossibly so for someone who’d been seriously hurt mere hours before. Nicolas’s parents tried to call him back, and Garth rushed after him, following his nose to guide him through the thick vegetation.

He found his mate standing in front of a clear stream, staring at his own reflection. “You know, Garth, I never considered myself vain,” he whispered. “But now, I’m beginning to change my mind. I was a freak among my own people. Now I’ll be a freak in civilization, as well.”

Garth made his way to his mate’s side and hugged him tightly.

“Oh, love… A scar on the outside means nothing for the person you are on the inside. Don’t be afraid. I love you, no matter what happens.”

Nicolas turned in his embrace, his black eyes wide. “You love me?”

Garth smiled. “I do. Funny thing, how I never managed to tell you until now.” He’d many times used an endearment when addressing Nicolas, but never actually confessed his feelings outright. “Let me just say it again, so that we’re clear. You’re my sun, Nico, my sun and my love. Don’t ever forget that.”

“Oh, Garth…” Nicolas buried the uninjured side of his face in Garth’s chest. “I… Thank you. Thank you.”

Garth forwent the fact that Nicolas hadn’t said the words back for the comfort of Nicolas’s warmth against him. It didn’t matter that Nicolas didn’t say the words back, as long as he felt the emotion behind them. And Garth was certain that emotion existed. It was only a matter of time until they both healed enough to finally love each other as they should.

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Nicolas stared at the covered mirror in the bathroom in frustration.

He’d been standing in the same spot for hours now, willing himself to move and remove the cloth that shielded it. It was shockingly hard.

He’d never valued his own appearance beyond keeping it as normal as possible. He supposed he’d been handsome enough before he’d been kidnapped—Garth seemed to think so at least. Then again, Garth couldn’t exactly be trusted to be unbiased where Nicolas was concerned.

In the past few weeks since they’d returned from Mexico, Garth had lavished Nicolas with affection. All his friends did so, in fact, but Garth most of all. He often came by with his children and had taken leave from his office to care for Nicolas’s bookstore.

It was very sweet, but while Nicolas appreciated it greatly, he’d started to get tired of being treated like he would break any moment now. Of course, it would probably help if he didn’t freak out whenever he took his clothes off and saw the nasty scar on his chest and if he could look at himself in the mirror without turning away.

Nicolas didn’t even know why he couldn’t get over it. The scar, while long and very visible, wasn’t as ugly as it could have been.

Besides, people walked around with scars all the time. Granted, they weren’t shape-shifters, but so what?

The real problem was that whenever he looked at the mark, he remembered his time spent in that dark pit in Mexico in the sunless, mind-numbing cold. He remembered the glint of the black dagger, and then the way the poison had burnt through his veins. Sara might
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have saved his life, but she hadn’t been able to wipe those memories away.

Nicolas sighed as he stepped away from the mirror. At least Sara was doing a great job with rebuilding what the elder destroyed. The clan had been shocked upon hearing Sara’s words. Apparently, some of the older hummingbirds remembered stories of her, but no one had truly believed she even existed. If she hadn’t come to his parents, they wouldn’t have known either, but for whatever reason, she’d wanted to save Nicolas’s life.

Nicolas returned to his room, idly sorting through the memories that were now coming back. He didn’t know how, but he knew Sara had been the one who’d saved him from his pursuers, twenty years back, when his clan first tried to kill him. It was comforting that someone had cared about him when no one else did.

His family seemed to want reconciliation now, but Nicolas didn’t feel ready. Perhaps one day, he’d be able to forgive them, if not forget. Perhaps he’d be able to focus on the fact that, in the end, they’d wanted him to live. But for the moment, he could recall far too vividly the anger in Valentina’s eyes and the disdainful disappointment in his father’s stance.

Nicolas shook himself. If he kept brooding like this, he’d never go on with his life. How long was he going to feel sorry for himself?

He’d lived through his captivity, damn it. He’d received an injury, yes, but that didn’t mean he should wallow in his own misery forever.

Hell, at this rate, he would push Garth away with his stupidity. For crying out loud, Nicolas and Garth hadn’t even made love because Nicolas was too self-conscious about his scar.

Grumbling to himself, Nicolas made a decision. He swept through the house and pulled all the blinds he kept closed out of fear that he’d see his own reflection. He stopped next to his hidden gun collection and briefly considered throwing them all out before deciding against it. He would get rid of them, yes, but in a more rational way that
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wouldn’t allow any punk kid to end up with a pair of nunchucks. He then returned to the bathroom and tore off the cloth of the mirror.

He glared at his own image. “What the fuck are you doing, Nicolas Chimalli Huitzilin? How much longer are you going to draw out this situation?”

Oddly, the name felt strange when he uttered it. He shook his head. “Nicolas Shields,” he corrected. But that name felt odd, too.

Who was he really? Nicolas Shields had been a mask, a temporary identity created until he could find his real one. But Nicolas didn’t want that reality back. It had almost killed him, twice, and he was still recovering from it.

“Who am I?” he asked his reflection. “Who am I?”

The question became much more important than the scar starting from the corner of his eye and tracing the line of his cheek. Nicolas didn’t even have the benefit of growing much facial hair, so there was nothing to hide it. But somehow, that mark ceased to matter in the face of the much more important problem. Who was he?

In the bedroom, his cell phone rang, but Nicolas ignored it. A few minutes later, his landline demanded his attention. Exasperated, Nicolas allowed the machine to take the call.

His eyes snapped away from the mirror when he heard Garth’s voice come through after the beep. “Hi, love.” Garth sounded a bit apprehensive and maybe even a touch tired. “I just wanted to check if we’re still on for tonight. I…uh…I talked to Skylar to babysit the kids.” Garth paused, seemingly struggling for words. “I guess you’re sleeping or something. Anyway, I’ll call later, all right? Love you.”

Garth knew perfectly well that Nicolas hadn’t been sleeping. He woke up at the slightest noise and two phone calls in a row were impossible for him to miss.

Before the message ended, Garth’s tone turned concerned. “Please call me back when you get this. I miss you.”

It occurred to Nicolas just how selfish he was being by ignoring the phone call. Garth did try not to baby him, but Nicolas had
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disappeared once without a trace and Garth must be suffering greatly whenever Nicolas did things like this.