Once rejected twice shy, p.27
Once Rejected, Twice Shy, page 27
“Yes,” Rollo said. No hesitation.
Tessa rolled her eyes again.
One item checked off Faith’s to-do list. “What’s next?” she asked after Preston, Rollo, and Tessa walked away.
“There’s something that’s been bugging me,” Mikail said, his gaze on the retreating group.
“Only one thing?”
He tossed her a smirk but quickly sobered. “Zadkiel said something to me. He called me ‘the prodigal son.’ That’s a human phrase. It doesn’t exist here.”
Faith’s pulse jackrabbited. “Which means he’s been through the veil.”
“Possibly. Or it is proof that he is the one who sent through those wolves who attacked your house and my bar. If they were in the human world for any length of time, one of them could have heard it and repeated it in front of Zadkiel.”
“You don’t sound like you believe that.”
“I am simply not making assumptions without facts. Perhaps we can have Rollo and Tessa question their prisoner and report back whatever information they glean.”
“Something tells me Rollo would love the challenge.”
Mikail nodded, then said, “The wolves who have defected. How do you want to handle that?”
“Can we play the wait-and-see game? And don’t you dare say I’m queen so therefore can do whatever I want.”
Mikail chuckled. “I wouldn’t dream of it. And yes, you can do that. If all they want is to start their own community, maybe letting them will be easier than forcing them to live in our kingdom.”
She liked the way he said “our,” like it was theirs together. As a couple.
“We’ll keep an eye on them,” Mikail added. “If they show signs of aggression toward us, we’ll deal with it.”
“Perfect.” One more check on the to-do list. “What about the fae? The ones who supported Zadkiel.”
“I have not heard anything from any fae other than the Warriors who are here today. When he returns, I’ll have Preston send Warriors into the village surrounding the castle to try to determine where they stand.”
“Thanks. I’d like to know what I’m getting into before I actually move to the castle.”
“You are planning to remain here?” Mikail asked, sounding surprised.
Faith shrugged. “Seems like a good idea, at least until the wounded are able to get around, get back to their own homes. I can probably help with moving efforts. I’m not the only one who has to move, right?”
Mikail cleared his throat. “You are not.”
The next interruption was Pippa. She had a scrape along her hairline, and her shirtsleeve looked as though someone had sliced through it was a razor, but otherwise, she appeared unharmed. Faith noted Conan hovering nearby but giving them space. Or maybe he was giving Pippa space.
“The Warriors expect you to speak to them, my queen,” she said shortly, with a curt nod before she turned on her heel and strode away, in the opposite direction from Conan.
“Don’t think I’ll win that one over anytime soon,” Faith muttered.
“She supports you,” Mikail said. “In fact, I understand she quite likes you.”
“That’s how she treats people she likes?” Faith asked. Then again, she treated Conan like he was gum on the bottom of her shoe, and he was her Warrior partner, so maybe Mikail knew what he was talking about.
“Okay,” Faith said, smoothing down the front of her shirt. “Where am I going to talk to the Warriors?”
“This way.” Mikail led her down a short path to a stage, not unlike the one Zadkiel had spoken from. It was surrounded by faeries and wolves.
She stopped walking. “I thought I was speaking to the Warriors.”
“You are. And, it would seem, pretty much everyone else residing in the village.” Mikail squinted. “And, apparently, a great many others who have already come over from the village proper. Rumors really do spread quickly here, do they not?”
“Oh, they definitely do.” She squared her shoulders and strode toward the stage, Mikail hurrying to move in front of her, to clear the way and ensure no one attacked her. Always doing his duty.
Now that she was really, truly queen and not just a rebel leader, did that change whatever had been transpiring between them? Would he suddenly revert back to the old Mikail, who refused to bend his two-hundred-year-old convictions, even in the name of love?
Whoa, did she just think that?
He glanced over his shoulder with a furrowed brow, and seriously, could he read her mind?
Mikail climbed the steps to the dais first, and then Faith, and then Dru was there, standing at the base of the stairs. Faith had to admit, given the battle and the fact that people were still dissenting even though rumor was spreading that Zadkiel had been taken prisoner and she was taking over, she appreciated the extra support.
She felt awfully exposed up here.
And then she was speaking, and no one could hear her, so she magically amplified her voice as if it were the most natural thing in the world to do.
She’d come into her magic, and she was confident enough to use it. She still needed to learn; hopefully, someone could recommend a tutor to guide her.
She was also confident enough to be their leader. Okay, she was confident enough to fake being confident. There was no one else to do it.
Besides that, she wanted to help this kingdom heal, help them get back on their feet. Help them thrive.
As their leader.
She could do this.
Which is what she told them.
Ruling a kingdom wasn’t simply giving speeches and expressing sympathy after a battle. Decisions had to be made about those who claimed to swear allegiance to her after fighting for Zadkiel. About those who had taken off, allegedly to start their own kingdom. Family members of the fallen Warriors expected some sort of compensation, not to mention closure.
Burning ceremonies were to be had, and not a mass one, as that wasn’t acceptable to those being honored.
They had to make arrangements to move everyone from this village to the village proper surrounding the castle. There were those who did not want to leave this village, although technically, it was outside the kingdom borders, which left them vulnerable if they stayed. So should she annex this bit of the world or leave them to fend for themselves or force them to return to their original homes?
Two Warriors from her new council had perished in the battle; did she replace them? How long should she wait? How should she determine who to ask to sit her council?
And on and on.
And on.
“I can’t make one more decision tonight,” Faith declared when she and Mikail returned to her hut, which wouldn’t be her hut for much longer. A week had passed since the battle, and tomorrow they would make the trek back to the castle and she would claim it officially. Another speech. More decisions.
“I’d be happy to make them for you, love,” Mikail murmured, his voice husky.
She turned to face him. “Would you?”
His nimble fingers were already reaching for the buttons on her shirt.
“Oh,” she said as he deftly unlatched each one.
“I’ve decided you should sleep without clothes tonight,” he said, pushing the material over her shoulders until it slid to the floor in a puddle.
Since he’d moved into her bed, that was a nightly occurrence. Still, she murmured, “Excellent decision,” while he shifted his focus to removing her pants.
“I’ve also decided you should not sleep alone. Ever again.”
She gasped. Her pants fell to her feet, and she stepped out of them.
“I have also decided that, as tired as we both are, we should not immediately sleep. I think we should wear ourselves out a little more first.” He unhooked the buttons of his own shirt, tugged it off his arms before grasping the ties on his trousers.
“That is the best decision you’ve had thus far,” she assured him.
He glanced up from his task, caught her eye, and smiled. It was a beautiful sight. His smile, his promises, made all the rest of it worth it.
When they were both fully nude, he wrapped his arms around her, holding her tightly, one of those I-never-want-to-let-you-go kind of hugs. She burrowed in, snuggled against his chest.
She never wanted to let him go either.
“I love you.” The words were stark, simple, raw. And they came from Mikail, who may very well have never said them before in his life.
She leaned her head back so she could look him in the eye. “I love you too.”
He kissed her, gently at first, although it quickly escalated into borderline desperation until he abruptly swept her into his arms and carried her through the hut—past the startled attendant standing in the kitchen holding a glass of wine—to her bedroom.
“I’ve made another decision,” he said when she lay on her back and he caged her with his arms.
“What’s that?” she asked breathlessly.
“When things settle down here, we should slip through the veil and visit your parents. I’m sure they are worried about you.”
Tears sprung to her eyes. Mikail ever so gently wiped them away and lowered himself to press a kiss to her lips.
She covered the spot with her fingers. “I would love that.”
“We’ll need to come up with a story to explain why you are suddenly no longer living in New Orleans.”
“Maybe we’ll tell them I met you and fell in love and decided to stay in your world with you.”
He arched one brow. “So, tell them the truth?”
She giggled.
“I’ve made another decision,” he declared.
“You’re on a roll.”
He chuckled. “I think I need to challenge myself to top the number of orgasms I’ve managed to give you in a single night.”
“Oh. Well…by all means.”
THE END
If you enjoyed this novel, flip the page to read Lyall, the first of three books Tami Lund (TJ Bell’s pen name) wrote in the Dark Moon Falls wolf shifter world.
Lyall: Dark Moon Falls
LYALL
She’s back.
His high school sweetheart. The love of his life.
The woman he let go because she needed to find herself.
Looks like she found herself back in Dark Moon Falls.
She also found herself an enemy.
And even though Lyall swore he was through chasing someone who didn’t want to be caught, he sure as hell was going to protect her from danger.
He’d figure out how to protect his heart later.
When she left town again.
Lyall is a stand-alone novella set within the Dark Moon Falls world. All stories can be read on their own, however, I recommend reading these three in this order:
Lyall
Benjamin
Anthony
Chapter One
The door to the Wolf Inn swung open, a rare beam of sunlight spilling onto the scuffed wooden floor, outlining a shadow of a woman. Tall, although probably a little exaggerated by the angle of the sun. Definitely had curves.
And wasn’t human.
Lyall Wilson kept stacking pint glasses, preparing for the anticipated evening crowd. “Wolf Inn is the last stop on your way out of town. You want somethin’ local, or you lookin’ for some of those fancy craft beers they’re making out in Seattle?”
And everywhere else in the world. Seemed like everybody thought they were a beer expert these days.
“I was actually hoping you had a nice glass of merlot.” The woman stepped into the bar and the door swung closed behind her, abruptly cutting off the halo of light.
“Shit.” The word tumbled from his lips before he could clamp them into a thin line he hoped looked disapproving. Or at least off-putting. “You’re back.”
Natalia Vasquez stepped closer to the bar—thank the gods the wide expanse of wood was between them because Lyall had a familiar urge to attack her, and not in a way the word might imply. His version would without a doubt give them both a rollicking good time before it turned sour. Like it always did.
Not this time. Not again. Not ever again.
“It’s temporary,” she said, lifting her hand in the classic stop motion.
“It’s always temporary.”
“But this time I’m stating it up front.”
“For once.”
She winced. Good. She deserved that zinger. And a hundred more, except he was too busy drinking her in to think of any additional scathing remarks at the moment.
Jesus. She hadn’t changed a bit. No, wait, she’d changed a lot and not a single aspect was off-putting.
The thick, dark hair was still curly, although she’d managed to mostly tame it into a bun that sat at the base of her neck. Her complexion, while still dark, was several shades paler than the last time she’d breezed through town.
Too much city living, not enough time outdoors.
Her wide, brown eyes were outlined with generous, dark lashes and smoky shadow. Her cheekbones were still high and plump, although not as much as they were the last time he’d seen her. She’d definitely lost a little weight.
He couldn’t decide if that was a bad or good thing.
Her clothing, if anything, had gotten even more prissy. The button-down, silk blouse, the narrow skirt. What were those things called? A pencil skirt? Seemed like she’d told him that once upon a time.
And then there were those freaking shoes. Tall, with spiky heels and straps around her ankles; Christ, a man could get lost in a fantasy about her footwear alone.
A man, but not this one.
“So why are you back this time?” he asked, his voice gruff, which was okay because it hid how he really felt. What that was, he wasn’t interested in analyzing at the moment. If ever.
Not if she wasn’t staying.
“My tía.”
It was his turn to wince. Selina Vasquez, Natalia’s great- aunt, the woman who’d raised her since her own mother had died when Natalia was a pre-teen, had gone to the Summerlands not even a week prior. Not only was the Dark Moon Coven mourning Selina’s passing, but so were the wolves. She’d been a great ally and a friend; the first witch they went to for healing that couldn’t be accomplished by the shift.
“And you’re just now making your way back home?”
The burning ceremony had been three days ago. Lyall had insisted they hold off as long as possible because he’d assumed Natalia would want to be there.
But she never came.
Until now.
She wrung her hands, twisting her fingers until Lyall feared she’d wear the damn skin off.
“Maybe I’d rather have something stronger than wine. Like tequila.” She edged closer to the bar.
Tequila. Oh, he and Natalia and Maestro Dobel had had some seriously unforgettable ménage à trois back in the day.
He grabbed the bottle he kept tucked under the bar. It was coated with dust.
He reached for a martini glass, prepared to make one of the fancy concoctions she liked so much, but she shook her head. “Straight. Neat.”
He paused before flipping over a lowball glass. Straight and neat was Natalia’s code for it’s been a shitty day and I need the liquor to hit fast and hard to help me forget.
The drink he poured was a heavy-handed one.
She sat gracefully on the barstool and wrapped her right hand around the glass. Lifting it to her lips, she breathed in before taking a sip. Then a slug. She closed her eyes and let it linger on her tongue before swallowing and chasing it with another. It’d be fucking erotic if he let his mind wander there.
Finally, she opened her eyes and canted her head. “You aren’t drinking with me?”
“That’s the path to perdition.” As they both well knew. Or maybe she didn’t. Maybe she had no fucking clue how much it ripped his heart to shreds every time she came into town, gave him a glimmer of hope, and then disappeared back to the big city. Again.
She nodded once, succinctly. “Fair.”
She sipped at her drink, and Lyall returned to stacking glasses. It was two in the afternoon on a Tuesday, so they had the place to themselves for now. In a few hours the regulars would make their way here for a quick drink before heading home to their lives, and any tourists—humans, mostly—getting their vacation in before school started up again would be sure to stop for that last drink before leaving town.
As soon as she finished off the liquor in her glass, he snagged the bottle to give her a refill, a habit. If he didn’t, she’d reach over the bar and help herself. Like she owned the damn place. Or had a thing for the owner.
No, scratch that. Like the owner had a thing for her.
Had. Past tense. Definitely past tense.
Someday, it might be true.
“I couldn’t do it,” she said, her melodic, soft voice crashing through the silence like a tidal wave.
“Do what?”
“Come back. For the burning ceremony.”
“Couldn’t get time off from your job?” She’d told him, probably more than once, but he couldn’t recall what she did for a living way out there in Dallas, Texas. Something decidedly not backwoods like, which had been one of her goals when she’d left the first time, all those years ago. Gods, it had been fifteen years since they graduated high school, she hit him up for one last roll in the sack, and then headed southeast to the lights and hustle and bustle of the big city.
That “one last time” had turned into a series of “just one more” times that occurred every few years when she popped back into town to check on her great aunt or because their coven’s high priestess had summoned her or that one time when her big-city boyfriend broke up with her and she soothed her heartache in Lyall’s arms.
And then broke his heart when she went back to the guy a few days later.
Was she still with him? No, that had been years ago. Ten maybe. She’d surely be mated by now if that were the case.
