Authors: Unknown
Chapter Twenty Six
The cellphone vibrated in his pocket just as Phillip was turning the keys into his flat. He checked the caller ID and cursed. Fucking Soartas, he’d had a great night at the club, surrounded by two insatiable fae twins, and all he wanted now was to crash on his bed and forget the world existed. Dealing with a dragon lord’s whims was not in the agenda.
“Good evening, my lord,” Phillip greeted after pushing the reply button.
“Good morning, you mean,” Balaur replied curtly. “It’s almost dawn.”
Phillip closed the door behind him and regarded the orange sky through his glass wall. “Almost, but not quite.”
“You were supposed to call me and confirm when the deal was taking place.”
Crap, his evening with the twins had been so … unraveling that he’d completely forgotten to call his contact in the black market. “The time is yet to be confirmed, my lord. My informant told me that after the explosion in the Dungeon, he’s had radio silence from the dealer who is claiming to have the box of atomic bullets.”
“And that was 24 hours ago,” the fat bastard replied. “Where are my bullets, Phillip?”
Phillip bit the inside of his cheeks to stop from telling Balaur where exactly he’d find his bullets.
“Maybe I should come over and remind you of your deadline.”
“That won’t be necessary, my lord,” Phillip replied quickly. “I promised that I would have the bullets to you by the end of the week, and that will happen.”
“I hope so, Phillip. I’d hate to have to teach you a lesson,” Balaur stated then hung up.
Yeah, right. “I’ll teach
you
a lesson, you fat bastard,” Phillip cursed after ensuring the call had been disconnected.
He strolled across the dark living room, not bothering to turn on the lights, and went straight to the fridge. He popped a beer open and took a long pull. By Apa Dobrý, those girls had done him good. He’d been on the verge of asking for a time out when one of them had the brilliant idea of inviting a shifter friend to join them. Thanks to the fucker’s stamina, Phillip’s reputation was still intact.
Out of nowhere, a shadow stepped out from behind the sofa.
Phillip squealed in surprise at the sight of Remi.
“You gotta help me!” the vamp demanded.
“Fucking Soartas!” he cursed, wiping beer off his shirt. “What the fuck are you doing here? No, fuck that, how the fuck did you get in?”
“You gotta help me, I’m screwed!” Remi cried out.
Phillip was about to introduce the rat bastard to his foot when he noticed the state Remi was in. His “Elvis is not dead” hairdo was all messed up, and his usually impeccable rockabilly outfit was drenched in blood.
“What did you do?” Phillip snarled.
The boy ran a shaky hand along his greasy hair. “I killed my uncle.”
“You what?”
Remi collapsed on the carpet – Phillip’s $300,000 carpet – and started weeping like a girl. “I killed my uncle and the king has found out. He’s looking for me! The household is in uproar! They’ll kill me if they find me.”
“And that will serve you right,” Phillip replied coldly. “But first, weasel, tell me exactly what happened.”
Phillip’s patience climbed closer to its limit at every word Remi uttered. The moron had tried to kill the Queen by tampering with the ladder in the library. Not only had he failed to accomplish the obviously brainless plan, but had also been caught red handed by his uncle.
“I had no other choice but to kill him,” Remi sobbed the words out. “He was going to tell the king.”
“Great. Now the king not only knows about you but let all his dogs out to get you. Fucking priceless,” Phillip snarled. He picked Remi up by the collar and shook the prick hard. “All you had to do was to watch them and report back. Nothing more! Who the fuck told you to try to kill the queen? Now I have no one in the house, and the vamps are in the know. You have no use for me anymore.”
He tossed Remi in the air. The skinny vamp went flying across the room and crashed on top of his million-dollar glass table from Russia. What else was the moron going to destroy tonight? Growling in frustration, Phillip grabbed him by the collar and dragged him to the exit. “Get your ass out of my flat before I decide the world is better without you.”
But the fucker held on to the door sill and blocking Phillip’s shoves. “Wait, I have the intel you want!”
“Keep your lies to your dead uncle.”
Phillip had had enough of being jacked around. If it wasn’t Balaur belittling him at every occasion, it was Remi offending his intelligence with his endless stupidity. That was it; he’d end at least one of his pains right now. Phillip let his dragon fire emerge, heating not only his own body but everything around him. He opened his mouth ready to exhale a ball of fire, and fry up Remi’s sorry ass.
“I know who’s got the atomic bullets!”
Phillip stopped mid-breath, but didn’t pull completely back. “If you’re fucking me around, Remi, I’ll make you suffer for the rest of your days.”
“I’m not,” the weasel replied panting. “I know who has the atomic bullets, and,” he paused to take a breath, “I can take you to him.”
Chapter Twenty Seven
The entire pack was there, waiting for the great butter sculpture to be transported to the fair. Due to its sheer size, a special van was hired because a regular 4x4 wouldn’t do.
Yara was back at Rafe’s, changing. He’d borrowed a few pieces of clothing from Sandy for her. Like all females in the world, she too took forever to get ready, so Rafe took the opportunity to come and talk to Archie – he knew Sandy wouldn’t have let her brother get away with not helping them out – but his cousin hadn’t showed up yet, nor was he answering his cellphone.
He had to find Archie before it was too late. The plan was to drop Yara off at the vampire king’s doorstep and then meet Archie at the fair where the exchange was going to take place. But he wasn’t so sure of it anymore. He was going to tell his cousin to cancel the whole thing. Yara was more important to him than any sum of green in the world.
Rafe ran a hand along his stubble. He and Yara had agreed that it was time for her to go home. Correction, she had told him it was time. He hadn’t agreed to anything. But unfortunately, like all males in history, his mouth had failed to voice out the words that were screaming in his head. He’d failed to ask her to stay. Two little words – please stay – so easy, yet so damn hard. He cursed himself for being such a chicken shit, not a wolf.
“Hey, Rafe, got a cigarette?”
Rafe lifted his head and saw one of his trainees in front of him. The boy must’ve been barely out of puberty, and smoking was a nasty habit for a teenage boy to have but whatever. He reached around for the pack of cigarettes he always carried around on his back pocket, and paused when his hand found nothing. Oh, right, he had thrown them away, hadn’t he? Actually, he hadn’t felt like smoking ever since Yara came into his life. “Sorry, cub, I’m out,” he replied with a shrug.
The boy mumbled something that sounded like “no sweat” and left to find someone else to feed his nasty habit.
Commotion by the factory entrance called Rafe’s attention.
“Open up, please, open up!” he heard Sandy shout out.
After a moment, a massive fridge appeared on the door. Sandy stood in front of it, coordinating the group of people who were driving the heavy trolley. The operation wasn’t going to be easy with so many steps before they even reached the van.
“It’s massive!”
Rafe turned around to find Yara standing behind him. She was wearing a flowery summer dress, with flowing skirt and a fitted top that hugged her curves perfectly. The bright colors brought out her tanned skin, complementing her stunning figure. Her short hair was half-spiky, half-sideways. He had no idea what she’d done but it looked like it was in perfect disarray.
“I know what you’re thinking, cowboy boots with a dress is so wrong,” Yara said apologetically. “But that was the only pair of shoes that fit me in Sandy’s wardrobe.”
Rafe smiled then cupped the back of her neck and pulled her into a tender kiss. “You look absolutely amazing,” he whispered in her ear.
She smiled in reply.
“You should keep the boots on next time,” he added impishly.
Her coy smile turned deliciously wicked, then she lifted a perfectly trimmed eyebrow at him. “So, there’ll be a next time?”
“If you give me the honor to have dinner with me ...”
She paused. “You mean, like a date?”
He hooked her by the waist, pulling her against him. “Yes, like a date. Would you give me the honor?”
She wrapped her arms around his neck and gave him a peck on the lips. “Only if you bring the cuffs.”
Rafe burst in laughter. What a gal. Beautiful, smart, strong, and wicked. What else did he want? Nothing.
“Move people, move!” Sandy’s shouts brought Rafe back to reality. “We have to go before the butter melts.”
He pulled Yara to the side and waited as the trolley with the butter statue passed by. A couple of his biggest cousins were by the truck where a ramp had been placed to help them lift the colossal fridge into it.
Rafe’s eyes drifted through the crowd and found Archie’s. His cousin glanced back at him from across the street and gave a short nod. It wasn’t a “hey, how are ya” kinda a nod, it was a “we’re on” one.
Rafe’s stomach churned in anxiety. He knew Balaur would skin him alive if he didn’t pay his debt but he could find another way. Yara had been serious about what could happen if those bullets got into the wrong hands. And Balaur’s were definitely in that category.
He nodded sideways to Archie – the international signal for “we need to talk.” His cousin nodded back and started crossing the street.
Rafe got closer to Yara to whisper “I’ll be right back” in her ear but a collective gasp made him stop.
“Ai, Apa Dobrý, it’s gonna fall,” Yara exclaimed next to him.
Rafe looked at where everyone else was gaping at. She was right. The ramp wasn’t strong enough to hold the fridge up, and was giving in. His cousins were holding it up but didn’t know how to move it along. They took a step forward forcing the fridge up. A soft crack was heard and it tumbled sideways, as the ramp gave in. One of the men held it up, preventing the fridge from crashing down, barely.
“It’s made of butter for Hiad’s sake!” Sandy cried out. “Be careful!”
Yara disconnected from Rafe’s embrace and carved her way through the crowd.
“Yara!” Rafe went after her. What was she doing?
She rushed past a very stressed Sandy and crouched by the cracked plank. Then she placed her hand on it and muttered. “Aji gravatah.”
Her eyes glowed bright green, just like her panther’s, then Rafe felt the air change around her. The others felt it too because they all took a step back, widening the circle around the van. The wooden board suddenly moved on its own accord. The faint sound of crackling splinters reached Rafe’s ears and the smell of spring whooshed around him. He watched in pure awe as the plank slowly mended itself. In no time, there was no sign that there had even been a fracture at all.
Another collective gasp followed, but Yara didn’t seem to have heard it. With her eerie green gaze sternly on the piece of wood, she muttered another word that sounded like “levanta”. And without breaking sweat, she lifted the board up, leveling it perfectly to the van’s height.
The entire pack stood there, paralyzed in wonder.
“What are you waiting for?” Sandy bellowed to the wolves by the truck. “Slide the fridge inside!”
They blinked fast a couple of times, as if waking up from a trance, then complied promptly. Moments later, the sculpture was safely inside and the van drove away to the fair.
“That was so cool!” the cub who’d asked Rafe for cigarettes exclaimed to Yara.
“Yeah, how did you do that?” his friend asked.
“Magic,” she whispered emphatically, narrowing her eyes at them.
They gasped wide eyed as if they had never heard of such a thing. With a naughty smile on her face, she left the gawking teenagers behind and sauntered back to Rafe.
“It
was
quite cool what you did back there,” he drawled.
She shrugged. “That was nothing, just a trick. Don’t tell those boys but I can’t do proper magic anymore.”
“How so?”
“Long story,” she simply replied – the international sign for “I don’t wanna talk about it right now.” Rafe made a mental note to ask her later.
“She’s beautiful
and
does magic,” Rafe heard the cubs mutter from a distance.
“Should I go there and tell them you’re spoken for?” he joked, enveloping Yara in his arms.
She chuckled then shrugged, like it wasn’t her fault that they got the bug. Rafe sighed then gave her a peck on the lips.
She kissed him back, then pulled away and looked straight into his eyes.
“I think it’s time for me to go home,” she whispered. A hint of uncertainty oozed out of her.
Did she feel as hollow as he did? He sighed and started walking to his truck.
“What are you doing?” Sandy shouted from across the street.
Rafe paused at the strange, inquisitive question, and turned around. “Taking Yara home,” he replied bluntly. The words “none of your business” came to mind but he decided not to push a she-wolf on a stressful pre-f-moon day.
“No, you’re so not,” Sandy declared. “There’s no way I’ll let you take her before our statue is safely inside the Dairy Building at the fair.”
Rafe gazed at Yara, who looked as taken aback by Sandy’s orders as he was.
Sandy turned to Yara. “Yara, I’m sorry, I know we haven’t officially met,” she blurted out with a wide smile. “I’m Sandy, Rafe’s little cousin.” She grabbed Yara’s hand and shook it hastily. Yara stared back wide-eyed.
Great, now she must think that
his
family was even weirder than hers. Maybe she was right.
“What you did there, with the oooh and the awwa,” Sandy said moving her hands like a crazy person, “was amazing. If you hadn’t been there … Oh, Mighty Soartas, I don’t even want to
think
about that. I mean, you’re my hero! So would you be so kind to come with us to the fair and help us get that freakin’ sculpture out of the truck, please?”
“I guess I could, I mean, if you … think I can help,” Yara stuttered her reply, looking at Rafe.
“Oh yes we do, sister!” Sandy shouted. “As you could see, we have brawns to give away but this pack is seriously lacking brains.”
“Hey!” Rafe protested.
“Sorry, cuz.”
Yara glanced at Rafe, a silent check for his sanction.
He lifted his shoulders, also not knowing what to say. A part of him wanted her to stay longer, another part was very reluctant to have Yara too close to his pack of bipolar wolves. “I can take you back to New York afterwards,” he heard himself suggest.
“OK then. I’ll help out,” Yara replied, but the words “freaked out” were stamped on her forehead.
Rafe hugged her on the side, trying to give her some reassurance, but Sandy didn’t help. She pranced up and gave them both a bear hug.
“Thank you so much,” she pleaded, then as fast as she came, she darted back inside the factory yelling for Archie.
Rafe and Yara stood there for a moment, in silence, looking at the factory door where Sandy had disappeared through. By the way Yara had stiffened beside him, she was probably thinking that they were all a bunch of crazy redneck wolves. There was only one way of mending this pickle. “I’m adopted,” he stated bluntly.
Yara gaped at him, then cracked out laughing.
“I have no words to explain what has just happened,” he said between chortles. “Sandy is not always this crazy, I promise.”
“It’s OK,” she replied wiping tears off her eyes. “I’m glad I can help. Besides, it’s good to know that they don’t think of me as the eccentric naked panther.”
“Oh, no, they’ll think of you as the eccentric naked witch now.”
That brought Yara into tears again. Her laughter was so contagious, Rafe had little choice but to laugh with her.
He guided her to his truck and jumped in. He was putting his seat belt on when she suddenly wrapped her arms around his neck and kissed him in a way that left him panting for more.
“Thank you,” she whispered after coming back out for air.
“For what?”
“For everything,” she replied. “For saving my life, twice, for taking care of me, for being honest about your working with Phillip … but most of all, for reminding me that life can be great.”
Oh, Mighty Soartas.
Rafe should have felt ecstatic by her words – that’s what he’d been waiting to hear ever since he … well, ever since he saw her in London if he were really honest with himself – but he didn’t. The shame of guilt screamed loud in his head.
He pulled away, praying for Apa Dobrý to give him the courage to come clean. “Yara, there’s something I need to…”
Out of nowhere, Sandy jumped on the back seat of his truck and slammed the door shut. “Right, that S.O.B. will definitely be meeting my fists tonight!”
Rafe jumped startled at her sudden appearance. “Sandy! What the fuck?” he bellowed, not able to contain his frustration with his cousin’s continuous interruptions. He loved her but sometimes he wanted to just reach out and snap that pretty little neck of hers.
“It’s your buddy’s fault, not mine!” she retorted.
“Who? Archie?”
“Who else?”
“What happened?” Yara asked.
“He left me here!” she roared. “That motherfucking prick took my truck and left for the fair without me! I mean, Yara, I’m the project manager of this entire operation!”
Operation? What were they? The black ops or something? “Sandy, just calm…”
Yara put a hand on his arm, stopping Rafe mid-sentence. Her look was clearly stating “don’t go there.”
He took a deep breath and bit the inside of his cheeks so not to lose it. “Sandy,” he said instead. “I promise, we’ll get you there in less than an hour.”
Sandy let out a long sigh of relief and slumped back on the seat. “Thank you.”
Rafe turned the ignition on and drove out. He glanced at Yara, a proud smile lifted her features. He just hoped it would still be there after he told her he was the one who stole the white bullets off her hands in London.