Challenged by Darkness (An Urban Fantasy Novel) (Befallen Tides series Book 2) (17 page)

“Yes.”

“You can’t!” Keaton turned around fully and lowered his voice. “Don’t leave.”

“All this has ever been about is getting back to my home.” Winx stared at her clasped hands like she couldn’t meet his gaze. “Everything I’ve done has been for my blood. I can’t pass up the opportunity to get back there.”

“What about your service to the order?”

“What of it?” Winx scowled. “I’ve been mutilated, beaten, on the brink of death, and I’m still supposed to fight for this broken alliance? I don’t think so. I’m done with this.”

“You have an obligation here. You can’t just turn your back on that.”

“Why am I supposed to be so noble?”

“The Queendom is being taken over—”

“And it’s not my problem anymore.”

Winx sidestepped Keaton,  but he veered into her path again.  “Come on, let’s talk about this.  In private.”

 He took a couple steps and held his breath as he waited to see if Winx would follow him out of the room. 

Luckily, she did.

Genevieve had been too busy trying to goad her mother into speaking to follow the finer points of the conversations around her.  But she focused when she heard London’s dramatic sigh. “Oh, this is not good.  If Keaton can’t convince Winx to stay, we’ll be traveling to Washington without anyone of the dark touch.”

“So?” Violet didn’t seem to care. “We came all this way without demons, and we can go back without them. Besides, if the new dictator really is after her, she’s dead weight.”

The bandit Genevieve didn’t know that had been hanging off Keaton—Sabrina something—was quick to agree. “She only causes problems! Let her go!”

“Having a daevor, or a demon, is essential to leveling the playing field.” London shook his head. “It is why Chavez only utilizes those with the dark touch in his regime. Their power is superior in many ways. I’ve striven for Winx’s cooperation for that very reason.”

“I’m just as strong as any Lighter,” Violet boasted. “We’ll be just fine getting back to headquarters.”

Genevieve sighed and turned back to her mother, petting her hand.  “Mother.  What did he do to you?”

Edina kept her eyes on her lap. Bruises dotted her arms and shoulders, but it didn’t look like anything that wouldn’t heal. Everything that was paining the queen was on the inside.

“He was psychotic, mother. He killed Uncle Orion in cold blood. But he’s dead now, and we can get out of here, reclaim our throne, and live in peace.”

Edina’s gaze remained unseeing, her expression bland disinterest as London stooped beside them.  “How is she?”

Genevieve shook her head. “We must get her somewhere safe.”

“We’re leaving directly. If you’ll come this way, Your Majesties.”

Both Genevieve and London helped the Goddess to stand and led her outside.  When Genevieve looked over her shoulder at the remaining bandits and Roy following them, she saw that Cris was the only one to remain in the room, stoically watching the direction that Winx had left in.

Winx was prepared to prod Keaton into speaking.  But she barely had time to pace the floor of the empty room he led her into before he started talking.

 “I understand that things have been hectic,” he said. “And it may seem easy to run away. But what kind of life will you be going to, Winx? You’ll never officially clear your name. As soon as the lixyn Queendom is up and operating again, your crimes will be held against you. It’s possible it’ll be worse because you chose to go AWOL in their time of need.”

Winx crossed her arms over her chest. “If London and Genevieve choose not to give me a break after all of this? They’ll never fully release me from my duty.”

“All of this will come storming back into your life. If your parents truly want you safe, then they would advise you to see this through to the end.”

“How can I pass this up?” Winx asked him. “You wouldn’t! Nothing would keep you away from your pack. Why do you expect me to slave away to a Queendom that ruined my life when I can go back to where I belong?”

“What if you don’t belong there anymore?” Keaton pulled her close. “You’ve built new attachments. Haven’t you? You have a different life now.”

Winx didn’t allow herself to sink into the security of his arms.  “I’ve almost lost my life more than once.  I did lose my wings.  I can’t believe you expect me to stay here, knowing what I’ve gone through. I’ve suffered enough.”

Keaton’s brow drooped.  “What would I do without you?  How can you leave after...”

Winx’s nostrils flared a moment before she spoke. “Anything that was good about our night together was tarnished when that barn got burned down.”

“You can’t turn your back on us because of a few trials.”

“There was never an “us”, Keaton. You’ve always put your home life first. I have to do the same. You may not have lived amongst my clan, like I did yours, but mine is every bit as special. And they need me, too.”

Keaton crumpled as she pulled back. “Please, Winx. Don’t leave me.”

Her heart was hammering in her chest, and the pain on his face startled her. When had their relationship grown so intense? 

“I have to, Keaton.” She wouldn’t say that she was sorry. Because she wasn’t. Instead, she pushed past him. “And you have to go, too. Your family needs to know that you are okay.”

She walked closer to the door until they were on two different sides of the room.. The separation was exactly what they needed. If she drew a clear line, maybe it would be easier.  On them both.

Keaton’s hands were out in front of him, as if still clutching an invisible Winx there. He seemed at a total loss, struggling for the right thing to say. But there was nothing that he could say. Her mind was made up.

“It’s time to go, Keaton,” she said finally. 

Winx walked through the door, not looking back at the man that she had hurt.

The group departed without many words. Cris and Winx got into one van as the bandits and remainder of the lixyn authority crawled into another. London didn’t try to change Winx’s mind about leaving. Instead, he bowed his head at her choice, not saying whether or not there would be consequences for her decision.

Winx tried not to look at Keaton as he slid into the van next to a happily babbling Sabrina, but it was impossible. When she finally caved in, closing her passenger side door, she found that his eyes were on her already. The two gazed their last as the drivers of each vehicle fired up the engines and drove off in two completely separate directions.

EPILOGUE

A bonfire wasn’t the greatest idea, but since there was absolutely no shelter on the vast land, it was necessary. Cris and Winx were miles from any real civilization since they’d left Nevada in their rearview mirror over a week before.

The demon was sitting casually on a rock by the fire with one leg thrown over the other. His skin looked rather delicious bathed in firelight, and the reflection of the moon made his midnight wings gleam.

“Come on, kid. Shit happens, but sometimes, a rose grows out of it.” He’d been talking like that since their departure from the mansion. “Do you really miss that mongrel all that much? What was his problem anyway?”

“He’s had a lot of disappointment lately. I just add to it.” The admission didn’t sound like a regret falling from her lips. More like a chilly observation.

Cris gave her a calculating look. “Adding relationship problems to your already tumultuous lifestyle?”

 “Keaton and I are just friends.”

“Thank God for that. You’re far too spicy for a daydreamer like him.”

“What do you know about me?” she spat.

“Not much. But I’d like to change that.” He waggled his eyebrows.

Ugh. What was it with men lately? Winx definitely had enough on her plate without this addition of raucous, unabashed trifle.  It was time to change the subject.

“Are you going to tell me more about your group of misfits?” Winx asked. “Now that you can clearly see how trustworthy I am?”

Cristis remained heavy lidded as he looked at her. “What do you want to know?”

“Who were you really affiliated with?”

“The good guys,” he put it simply.

“Oh?”

“You don’t believe me?”

“I didn’t say that.”

“Yet you look skeptical.”

“There doesn’t seem to be much good about you.”

“I could surprise you.” He had a gleaming, lascivious smile.

Possibly. Winx was having a hard time not being charmed by him. He was so her type. But that was dangerous territory, especially since she did not know much about him.

“Are you going to start being serious?” Winx let a bit of humor slip into her once harsh tone.

“All right.” Cris sat up straight and leaned forward to face her better. A rush of heat emitted from him. It had to be from the raging bonfire in front of them, since he’d absorbed a good amount of it. “We’re basically a group of henchmen for hire. If someone needs the deed done, we do it.”

“How do you get away with being an assassin with the Lixyn Queendom in power?”

“Very carefully. But it helps that the Queendom is dissolving into shambles.”

“I can imagine.” She looked down at the holsters on his hips. “And your calling card is an ax?”

Cris never lost his gleaming smile. “Gets the point across, doesn’t it?”

No arguing with that.

“Now, are you done quizzing me? You’ve been doing it a lot lately.”

“Just trying to recognize your brand.”

“My gimmick is mystery. It adds an allure. Come on, don’t try to deny it.”

Winx was humored by him, though she barely let it on. Too much had clouded her since the death of the Chancellor. Really, she should feel relieved. He was dead. And even though his son had escaped, there was a part of her that insisted Dante Chavez couldn’t be as awful a contender as his father had been. A danger? Sure. But all of that was being put behind her. She was going home.

Long years had separated her from the Rowan clan. She felt like she had so much of them to relearn, but her family must have missed her if they’d sent an assassin to clear the pathway back home.. They had to have forgiven her for dragging their good name through the mud.

Or… had they? Was a different kind of punishment awaiting her here? One that would be doled out by her blood rather than those with the light touch? And if that were the case, what would she do about it? Was there any escape from retribution on either side for avenging Deja’s death?

“You’re looking cold.” Cris had come around the fire. With his wings still brazenly bared, he sat near her and shielded her with them. Instant warmth flooded her, making her shivers disappear. He handed her a bag of beef jerky, which she took though her appetite was absent.

“You don’t have to be afraid anymore,” he told her. “The worst is over. Now you just get to live your life. The way that you want.”

“And what about the savage problems throughout the States?”

“What about them? You didn’t start them. It will get sorted out.”

She wanted to believe that. But she knew that more blood would be spilt. Maybe this was the beginning of something worse. Had she ever been soldier enough to handle that? Or was she merely a chick killing on a vengeful work visa that was about to expire? Mulling it over didn’t bring her closer to figuring it out. She wasn’t quite sure who she was anymore.

The night air continued to blow erratically, but Cris kept her well-guarded from it. As Winx closed her eyes and took a bite of meat, she could almost imagine Keaton there instead of him, his arms snug around her, his lips near, and a Bryan Adams song playing in her ear.

SULTRY IN DEATH

A Befallen Tides Short Story

She walked in spiked high heel boots, dressed to kill in a dark leather corset with red accents that pronounced her bust. The leggings were painted to her skin, fashionably split in places to reveal smooth cocoa skin. Her black hair had recently been cut to a bob, the front in long sideways bangs and the back buzzed short. She felt sexy and powerful, like a jungle cat out on the prowl for its next meal.

But for Deja Rowan, the nights had always been for play.

She strutted the city streets with confidence. Whenever a man or woman gave her a look, she posed and flaunted her wares in promise of bedroom prowess.

Her body spoke bold promises. “Yes, I am here for your entertainment. Look your fill.”

When she reached the night club she had been looking for, she swayed her thick hips on to the front of the line, gave the security a wink, and walked inside without paying. The humans stared at her longingly, hungrily, panting for her presence.

The music pumped with bass and rap lyrics. People swayed provocatively against each other. The dance floor lit up in a thousand different shades. Deja threw her arms open and plunged into the thick of it. This was where she belonged. Where the music never stopped, the drinks flowed like water, and merriment cascaded upon the people.

She wended through the lively hall, body shaking rhythmically to the music. Deja’s coal-lined eyes flitted over the crowd, peering into every inner thought. Everyone there was boisterous and ready to do as much damage as she was. She picked her way through them one by one, making eye contact with the most attractive humans there and hypnotizing them with a leer.

Deja found herself pinned between a gorgeous man and an equally attractive woman. They spun her around their writhing bodies, and she took her time making them acquainted with her intentions. They caressed her clothed flesh with pleading eyes. She teased them, magnetized them, made them beg for more of her. It wasn’t enough for Deja to be coveted by them. She wanted to be a living breathing aphrodisiac. She wanted all to stampede in anticipation of her arrival. She wanted them to kneel.

It didn’t take long. They drew her close to kiss and nip her exposed neck and whisper heated pleas into her ear, she knew that they had succumbed completely to her wiles. Telepathically or not, it was what Deja required: total submission before the
coup de main
. Greedy with empowerment, she walked off of the lit tiles and toward the back door. It was not a matter of would they follow—only how quickly.