Against the Dawn (8 page)

“Mithras?” I asked. “Or Lorik.”

Ty leveled his gaze on me and my stomach tightened at the intensity in his hazel eyes. “Both. I’ve got your back on this one, Darian. I know you said you were ready, but I’m not going to let you go it alone.”

This would usually be about the time I threw a hissy fit, declared my independence and took off on my own. “Thanks, Ty.” Not anymore, though. I was turning over a new leaf. “I appreciate that.”

A companionable silence stretched between us. Ty leaned his head back on the couch and his eyes drifted shut. I turned toward him, gathering my knees up and rested my head beside his. I let my eyes roam greedily over his features, from the dark lashes that brushed his skin to the strong line of his jaw and his lips, slightly parted and perfectly kissable. He was sitting right next to me but felt so far away.

And I missed him so much that it hurt.

He reached out and covered my hand with his, not in a possessive way, and not holding on so tight that it would ignite the urge to pull away. Rather, his touch was a comfort to me, and he gave me enough leeway that if I grew uncomfortable, I could slide my hand out from under his. I allowed my eyes to drift shut and focused my thoughts on the sounds of Tyler’s breath, in…out…in…out. My limbs grew heavy and my body relaxed. Ty’s thumb began to trace a circular pattern on my skin and my last thought before sleep overtook me was how much I’d missed the feeling of being connected to another person through touch.

It was wonderful.

I woke the next morning stretched out on my couch with a soft fluffy blanket thrown over me. And I was alone. The alone part shouldn’t have bothered me so much, but it did. It was obvious Ty had covered me up before he left—whenever that was—but I’d gone my first full night without a single nightmare and so I said a silent thanks for small favors.

For a while, I lay still, roaming the confines of my studio with my eyes as I continued to reacquaint myself with the renovated space. I’d been home for over a week, but I still wasn’t used to the change in scenery, though I had to admit, Xander’s decorator was far more talented than me at sprucing up my living space.

As though on cue, my buzzer rang. In the past year, my place had become Grand Central Station compared to what it used to be, and I dragged myself off the couch and hoofed it over to the wall next to the elevator to disengage the security system.

“It’s Asher,” a voice said through the intercom when I pressed the button. Surprise, surprise.

“Come on up.” I still sounded half asleep and as the elevator jumped into gear, I headed for the kitchen in search of a caffeine boost.

Asher stepped out the service elevator and I retrieved a second mug from the cupboard. He was carrying two boxes: one square and white cardboard, while the other was rectangular and made of rich mahogany. “You come bearing gifts?” I fixed him with a stern look as I filled the new fancy French press left in the cupboard with coffee grounds and put a kettle on to boil. “What did you do?”

“It’s nothing I did,” Asher remarked as he placed both boxes on my kitchen island counter, “though I sort of take offense to the fact that you feel like I need to apologize for something. I’m nothing more than the delivery boy this morning. I think someone’s trying to impress you.”

I narrowed my gaze and stared at the boxes, both curious as to their contents and worried to open them and see. I figured the white cardboard one would be the safest choice and I popped the lid to find three of the most beautiful chocolate éclairs I’d ever seen inside.

“They’re from Bakery Nouveau,” Asher said with a shrug. “I’m not gonna lie, I ate one on the way over here and it was freaking delicious.”

I laughed and grabbed two plates, placing one éclair on one and two on the other. I slid the single pastry over to Asher as the kettle whistled so I grabbed it off the stove and poured the boiling water into the coffee press. “Coffee?”

“Sure,” he replied, settling onto one of the barstools. “So, are you going to open the other box or what?”

I depressed the plunger and poured the brewed coffee into the mugs. Did I want to open the other box? Who knew what I’d find inside? “Cream?” I asked instead, sliding a container of half and half to Asher along with a bowl of sugar and a spoon.

“Come on, Darian.” There were times that Asher totally reminded me of an errant teenager. “I’m dying to see what’s inside. Just open it.”

“Who’s it from?” As though I had to ask.

“Please,” Asher said with a snort.

“What did he tell you this morning when he sent you over here?”

“Not a damned thing. I was given two sets of addresses to make pickups at with the implicit instructions to hand both boxes to you personally.”

I wondered if Xander found it tiring to throw his weight around the way he did. “And you had no trouble helping yourself to the éclairs but you didn’t even peek in the other box?”

Asher smiled. “I tried. But it’s warded.”

Well, that was interesting. Whatever was inside that box, Xander wanted locked up good and tight. “If you can’t get into it, what makes you think I can?” Asher gave me a look and I poured some cream into my coffee. “Okay, you’ve got a point. Slide it over here.”

His smile rivaled that of a kid on Christmas morning. He couldn’t wait to see what was inside. I placed my hands on the rich polished wood and the magic protecting its contents warmed my palms. The minute my skin made contact with the box, I felt a burst of energy that traveled from the top of my head down my spine. My curiosity rivaled my suspicion; the magic used to protect the contents of the box was pretty damned specific. I not only wondered how he’d managed to have it done, but who did it. Magic like that would have required a personal belonging of mine to accomplish. It made me question Xander’s motives in remodeling my apartment. Did he have a plastic baggie with hair from one of my brushes somewhere? And…
ew
. I really,
really
hoped that wasn’t the case.

I held my breath as I lifted the lid. I don’t know what I expected to find inside. With the wards Xander had placed on the box, it could have been just about anything. The breath I was holding left my lungs in rush as my jaw dropped. I had to give it Xander, he sure knew how to give a gift. My katana had been a present from Xander and it was one of my most prized possessions. And let me tell you, the contents of that mahogany box were going to give that damned sword a run for its money in the favorites department.

A pair of daggers rested in a nest of black velvet. The blades were unlike anything I’d ever seen, and that was saying something. Neither metal nor stone as far as I could tell, the black blades gleamed almost blue in the morning sunlight that filtered into my kitchen. The grips were equally impressive, old worn wood wrapped in dark leather. I lifted one from its nest and held it in my palm. As though the dagger had been made for me, it weighed almost nothing, the balance was impeccable and the grip molded itself into my palm as though I’d worn the pattern of my hand into its surface from decades of use.

“What is it?” I asked, my tone awestruck. Power surged from the dagger, infusing me with a sense of strength and confidence. As though I could scale tall buildings in a single bound or some shit. This was an old, potent magic. And despite the rush I felt from the dagger in my hand, I was wary of its power.

“I have no idea,” Asher said, his own voice filled with wonder. “But I want one.”

He reached for the dagger still in the box and jerked his hand back, shaking it as though he’d been jolted by an electric shock. “Okay, so I guess it’s not only the box that’s warded, huh? Too bad, I really wanted to play with one.”

I had a feeling this was magic Asher probably shouldn’t tangle with. And to be honest, I didn’t know if I wanted to tangle with it either. Until I knew what they were and how they worked, those daggers were staying in the box. Period. I set the weapon back on the velvet and I experienced a sense of loss, as though the dagger itself didn’t want to part from me. Creepy. “Did your king send a message to go along with his presents this morning?”

“His royal highness requests the pleasure of your company tonight,” Asher said, digging into his éclair with gusto. “For dinner.”

A date? Was this really territory I wanted to venture into at this point?

“And he says he won’t take no for an answer.”

Of course he wouldn’t. Xander didn’t know the meaning of the word no. More to the point, he counted on the fact that no one would actually ever say it to him. I was dead in the water with Mithras until Lorik decided to contact me, and other than sitting at home tonight and eating mac ‘n cheese while I watched re-runs of
The Bachelor
, it’s not like I had anything going on. I could stand to hang out with Raif for the night—that is if Xander didn’t run him off—and so I told Asher to let the High King of High Priced Gifts know that I’d see him for dinner. And he’d better be ready to answer a few questions.

“Asher,” I said as I poured myself a second cup of coffee, “does Xander let you freelance at all?”

“As in take outside work?” He eyeballed the éclair left on my plate and I sighed.

“Here.” I pushed the plate toward him. “You look like you’re about to gnaw your own arm off.”

He gave me a grin that made him look a lot like a mischievous teenager and ate half of the pastry in a single bite. “Thanks,” he mumbled through a mouthful of éclair.

“So yeah, what I mean is, I don’t know how this whole monarch-subject thing works. Do you hang around Xander’s house until he has something for you to do, or can you, you know, take a job somewhere else?”

“Serving my king is my priority,” Asher said in that mysterious way that bugged the shit out of me. “But let’s say for the sake of argument,
you
wanted to hire me for something, then I would absolutely be available.”

Asher was a valuable commodity. As a half Shaede-half Sidhe, he had a few extra perks in the power department, namely, he could project thoughts and illusions into others’ minds. So if I needed an extra body but didn’t want anyone to know he was there, he could simply plant the thought that he wasn’t, and no one would notice him. “Noted.” I had a feeling that Xander still wanted Asher stuck to me like glue and if he did take a freelance job from me it would only because his king ordered him to.

Asher finished off the éclair in another bite and downed the rest of his coffee. “Well, as much as I’d rather hang out here and play with your new toys, I have other duties today. I’ll pass your acceptance of his highness’s invitation along.” He hopped off the stool and sauntered toward the elevator. “Later, Darian!”

“Later,” I said, resting my elbows on the counter. I eyed the mahogany box as a vibration of energy traveled the surface of the countertop and along my arms.

Xander. Always full of surprises.

Chapter Seven

I didn’t get dressed up for my dinner with Xander. I wasn’t interested in giving him any indication that this was more than simply a friendly get together. I had to admit, though, I was pretty excited to eat at the Shaede King’s house. His kitchen staff was top-notch and since I couldn’t cook anything that didn’t come out of the freezer or a box, I was stoked for a home-cooked, five-star meal.

For a moment, I considered bringing the daggers along, but I thought it best that they stay in my apartment for now. No one would break through the wards to steal them, and until I knew exactly what I was dealing with, I thought it best not to take them out in public. I mean, come on, the damned things could go all Terminator on me, become sentient, and go on a killing spree that might end in the extinction of the human race. It could totally happen.

My stomach did a one-eighty as I walked through Xander’s front door. I had no idea what he was up to—and he was up to something—but I had to assume he was trying to win me over with sweet creamy pastries, bad-ass weaponry, and gourmet cuisine. I had to give it to him: he knew what I liked.

Raif met me in the foyer and the nervous knot in my stomach unfurled. He was the buffer that I needed in order to sit in a room with the Shaede King and not bite my nails down to the quick. “You’ve made yourself scarce the past week,” he remarked as he waited for me to walk ahead of him into the formal dining room. “I was hoping you’d stop by to spar.”

Nothing made me happier than kicking Raif’s ass. No doubt I was a little rusty and could use a good workout. Especially if I was going to be going up against a supernatural arms dealer with a penchant for near-beheadings. “How ‘bout tomorrow?” I suggested. “I need to get some conditioning in, maybe three times a week?”

“Sounds perfect.” Raif pulled out a chair at Xander’s enormous table for me. “Tomorrow and Friday this week? And then beginning Monday next?”

“It’s a date.”

“What’s a date?” Xander entered the room like the king he was, confident, commanding, and with that touch of arrogance that made him so attractive. He looked at Raif as though his brother should be abashed at having a conversation that didn’t include him, but when he turned to me, his expression was so heated that I was afraid I’d have to go outside to cool down.