Kyn Series (11 page)

“Um, okay?” she managed, dark eyes flicking to the bundle he carried. Then a slight breeze in the corridor, someone must have opened a door down the way, carried the unmistakable scent of a dirty diaper.

“Hmm, not being funny… but you might want to change the baby before you take it out visiting?” she suggested. And maybe put a shirt on, she added mentally. Although, she was enjoying the view at the moment. But what kind of a father was he, bringing his baby out with a dirty diaper?

“That would be the problem.” He shifted the baby in his arms and smoothed the edge of the blanket down. Tessa caught her breath at the colour of its hair.

Bright Pixie pink, a colour she’d only seen in the full blooded members of her mother’s family. He looked at her and smiled, the merest hint of fang showing. “As you can see, it’s not mine. Someone just left it on my doorstep and I haven’t a
clue
what to do with it!”

He was Kyn.

The knowledge stunned Tessa for a moment, almost as much as his appearance on the doorstep had had. But then, he shifted on his feet a fraction and the light fell across the marks across the left side of his face and body. Her breath left her lungs in a rush.

“You’re a Kyn warrior,” she exclaimed in relief, glad she hadn’t opened her door to a Rogue vampire. Even though the small amount of Pixie blood flowing in her veins protected her from being turned into a vampire, Rogues were more interested in the high from a kill, than turning their victims. Although, to be fair, she’d not heard of them using a baby as a decoy. They were more into breaking the doors down to get at their victims, and a baby would be little more than a macabre snack.

“Live and kicking…name’s Feral,” he introduced himself, grinning a little. The small expression curved his full lips, transforming his rather cruel features. Features made starker by the shaved hairstyle which turned him from mere gorgeous, to devastating.

“Tessa, pleased to meet you,” she replied on automatic, silence stretching between them.

*

“So,” Feral continued. “You gonna help me out here? The little guy…he’s really beginning to smell bad…” He watched her, hope coiling in his chest. When she’d first opened the door, his heart had sunk. She wasn’t the woman he remembered pinning out the diapers.

However, she was a Pixie, he could see the slight glamour clinging to her, making her appear more human. On second inspection, there
was
a family resemblance to the woman with the diapers. Younger sister maybe? He tried that route.

“I remembered your…sister?” He smiled, a cautious edge in his voice as he hoped he’d gotten it right. Women could be funny about ages, and what stated relationships to other women said about their ages. Relief shot through him as she nodded.

“I remembered your sister has kids, so when I found him, I came ‘round to beg mercy…and a couple of diapers.” He grinned as he tried his hardest to be charming and personable.
Come on sweetheart, you have to say yes. Look at me, I’m not a baby sorta guy! Practising for making babies, yes…dealing with the babies, definitely no!

His silent plea seemed to work, her coffee-cream eyes flicking over him again. Feral shivered, the look almost seeming like a caress over his skin, his nipples tightening a little as a thrill shot through him. Then, she stepped back and released the chain.

“Come on, bring him in and we’ll get him cleaned up,” she ordered, her voice brusque. Feral stalled, not used to being ordered around…no that was a lie. He
was
used to being ordered around. Vixen did regularly, as did their boss Marak, the current Kyn monarch. But both Vixen and Marak weren’t people one would want to piss off in a hurry; while this woman was, well, tiny. And curvy to boot—the figure, the shapeless towelling robe was hinting at, enough to make his mouth water.

He followed her into the living room, looking around the plush interior and dismissing it just as quickly. It had all the hallmarks of expensive interior design and was about as interesting as the back of a cereal box.

“Come on, let’s have him down here then.” She dragged out a changing mat from its hiding place behind the sofa, plopping it on the floor as she glanced at him. “The diapers will be a bit big, but it’s better than leaving him dirty. Can you take his diaper off while I get a fresh one?” She arched an eyebrow, obviously doubting his ability to carry out even that simple task.

“Of course!” He kneeled down to settle the baby in the middle of the changing mat. For such a small, little thing, it took virtually every part of Feral’s body to make sure he was placed carefully on the mat.

*

Tessa shook her head as she headed out of the room to fetch changing supplies. If he’d ever held a baby before, she’d be surprised. He had that “on eggshells” manner men tended to get when presented with an infant for the first time. Women didn’t get it so much. Must be some maternal instinct, she mused, rifling through the changing unit in the twins’ bedroom. Ignoring the washables, Tessa went straight for the disposables, an addition she’d insisted on if she was expected to baby sit. There was no way she was scraping shit off a diaper for anyone. Not even her sister!

“Too big, all too big,” she murmured as she rifled through the wicker basket. “Damn, this is no good.” She leaned down, peering into the darkness of the cupboard. There! At the back. She grinned in triumph as she retrieved a wad of diapers left over from when the twins were small. She checked the size and nodded. Just perfect.

*

“Look mate, you aren’t making this easy you know,” Feral muttered, trying to get his nose as far away from his hands as he could, without turning his head or being on the other side of the room. He’d managed to remove the diaper, but he hadn’t been prepared for what it contained.

He grimaced as he considered the contents, not sure what he was supposed to do now. He’d watched Vixen change her little daughter, Marianne, more times than he could remember, and she’d always made it look easy.

He was quickly finding out it wasn’t as easy as it looked.

*

Tessa stifled a giggle as she came back into the room to find the Kyn warrior on his knees, trying to clean the baby’s bottom with hesitant movements. All he was doing was spreading the mess even further.

“Just where I like to see a man,” she quipped, “on his knees. Come out of the way, you’re just making it worse.” She shooed him away, then knelt down in front of the baby, who was taking advantage of the moment to try to flip himself over. Tessa made a grab for him just before he managed it, tapping his nose playfully.

“Oh no you don’t, handsome,” she chuckled, catching his ankles in one hand, cleaning him up with the other. She was used to changing babies, having spent a lot of time over here when Lisa had given birth to the twins.

“There we go, all clean and dry, aren’t you a clever little man?” She fastened his baby gown as he wriggled again, doing his best to escape. She grinned and caught him, his chortles filling the room as she tickled his sides.

Smiles wreathed her face. He really was the cutest little thing. A pang of longing filled her; she’d always wanted kids of her own. For that though, she’d have to meet a man first, something she seemed singularly incapable of. She tickled him again, running her fingers along the soles of his bare feet as she reached for his trousers.

“He’s a gorgeous little thing,” she commented, very aware of the large Kyn watching her like a hawk. “So, he was just left on your doorstep?”

“Yeah, about half an hour ago. Was a bit of a surprise…usually I just get pizza delivery,” he chuckled, shrugging a shoulder. “Not the domestic type.”

“Pizza? I didn’t think vampires ate?” She flicked a glance up at him while she finished dressing the little one. She picked him up easily, handing him over. “Here, hold him for a moment, whilst I clear this lot up. Hey…what’s this?”

Her eyes fell on a folded piece of paper which fell free of the yellow blanket as she folded it. Tessa reached down and picked it up. It appeared to have been ripped from a reporter’s notebook, crumpled and folded into quarters. She smoothed it out and frowned at the words scrawled on it, in a hasty hand.

“What’s it say?” He shifted closer, peering over her shoulder. The scent of aftershave and warm man enveloped her, a shiver running down her spine.
God, I really needed to get laid if a man just looking over my shoulder stirs up a reaction like that!

She shook her head, bringing herself back to reality. “I don’t know, it’s an old Fae script, I think… This is more Lisa’s kettle of fish than mine. Some of it I recognise,” she pointed out a word in the middle, fingernail tapping the paper lightly, “this is the word for Morrigan.” She scanned the rest of the writing. Then it hit her, the half remembered lessons of her youth coming back all at once as she scanned the page.

“Shit!” she breathed, looking up at him, eyes wide.

“What? What is it?” Feral frowned, brows raised.

“He…the baby…he’s a Morrigan. There’s a Fae prophecy about a male Morrigan… ” Tessa swallowed, hardly believing what she was saying. “When he grows up, I think he’s going to be a god.”

Feral blinked, not quite believing his ears.

“Ok, you want to run that one by me again? A god? As in smiting and powers…the whole shebang?” He looked down at the baby in his arms in surprise, trying to see something of the divine. All he saw was cute. A whole
lot
of cute.

She nodded. “The whole lot. The legend of the Winter King…” She looked at him as though the name should mean something. It didn’t.

“Sorry doll, not up on Fae legends. It’s not compulsory reading for us Kyn. We’ve got enough of our own.” He apologised with a shrug, wondering why he was getting pulled into this. The baby was a Pixie. He’d found a Pixie to look after it, so he should be hightailing it out of here.

He really didn’t like Pixies, like
really
didn’t like Pixies. Last year, they’d kidnapped the woman he had been in love with, or thought so at any rate, and beat the living snot out of him. It didn’t incline him to think favourably of them.

But
female
Pixies, Feral was discovering, were something else entirely. Tessa really was rather enchanting; he’d watched as she’d gathered things up—her movements had been quick and graceful.

“The Winter King legend is an old one. You’ve heard of the Morrigan right?” She didn’t wait for his answering nod before she continued.
Everyone
knew the legend of the Morrigan.

Originally a Triple Goddess dedicated to war, the Morrigan had diminished into one form, currently that of Nemain, and became a fixture of the Unseelie Court, mostly riding with the Host. No one was really sure how much of her divine power she’d retained.

What was known was the woman was batty, even by Fae standards. Madness ran in the line, and touched each new Morrigan as she came into her power. Not that anyone would dare to say it to her face. There was still something about a former goddess, especially a Corpse Goddess, which sent chills down a person’s spine.

“Well, there’s this old legend about the line. They’re all female. No male children born in the line whatsoever, never has been. But they say, when there
is
a male Morrigan born, he’ll be the Winter King.”

“O…kay, this is a bad thing, right?” Feral asked carefully and grimaced as the little guy they were discussing decided to slobber all over his shoulder.

She shrugged. “It could really upset the balance of power in the Fae courts for starters. The rest, I’m not so sure about. The legends are vague. Apparently the Morrigan knows more about it…there’s a book, an old one, on it. But she’s never let anyone read it, doesn’t like to talk about it.”

“Okay, so, ‘not end of the world’ type stuff…but imbalance is probably bad, right? And if he’s Fae, not a Pixie, what’s with the fluorescent ‘do?”

“Well Pixies
are
actually Fae,” her lips quirked, eyes dancing in amusement, “we just don’t like to admit it out loud. And imbalance would be bad, yes. You can pop him down on the floor to roll around. This place is kiddie-proof.”

Feral did as he was told, a quick glance around reassuring him she was telling the truth. Soft carpets and furnishings, and all hard edges on the furniture had little cushioned pads. Amazing what someone could miss when they weren’t looking properly. He’d been convinced this place was an interior design showpiece, but when he really looked, he could see care had been taken to make it suitable for children. Not sure why he cared that much, especially with a kid he’d just had dumped on his doorstep. Feral put the baby on the floor carefully, leaving him giggling and playing with a soft toy Tessa waved in front of him.

Like his place, the kitchen was just off the living area, a large breakfast counter separating the two. He leaned against the counter, his arms folded over his broad chest as he watched her bustle around the small space. Now that the baby had been sorted and didn’t smell so bad, he could finally take time to appreciate the way she looked.

She was small, barely grazing his shoulder, and wrapped in a terry towelling robe designed for someone far larger. The voluminous fabric buried her, cinched tight around a wasp waist.

“I’ll make him up a bottle,” she chattered, probably not realizing his attention was elsewhere at the moment. Like on the deep “V” at her neckline, which kept gaping a little, teasing his imagination with fascinating glimpses of the creamy skin underneath. “We don’t know when he last ate, so better to be safe than sorry. Um, do vampires drink coffee?” she queried, looking up to catch him looking at her.

They locked eyes for a moment before she blushed and looked away, leaving a little smile on Feral’s face. He read her interest there, the awareness of him as a man, and it pleased him on levels he didn’t realise existed.

“Yeah, we drink coffee,” he rumbled, his voice low in the sudden silence.

“Actually, most of us can eat and drink…we just don’t most of the time. Some prefer not to at all. Myself, I’m partial to a beer and a pizza,” he offered with a smile, as he realised having a vampire in her apartment (or her sister’s at any rate) had to be a little worrying. After all, he wasn’t the smallest of Kyn, and compared to the average Pixie or human, he was huge.

She flashed him a grin. “Sounds like the perfect date,” her voice was light as she opened a cupboard and put two mugs on the counter, “pepperoni pizza with all the trimmings?”

Feral grinned. “Why? You angling for a date, Tessa?”

She arched an eyebrow as she poured water into the bottle, measuring out and mixing the formula with an experienced hand. She popped the bottle into a jug of cold water to cool and turned her attention to him. “Hmm, depends…Pixies are better kissers than vamps,” she replied, a hint of mischief in her eyes.

This time, it was Feral’s eyebrow winging its way up to his shaved hairline. “Is that so little Pixie?” he asked, a dangerous edge in his voice as he worked to keep a straight face.

“Yup!” She pushed a mug toward him, leaning her hips back against the side as she lifted her own to her lips, blowing the steam on top. Her wide, dark eyes glanced at him over the rim, laughter dancing in them. Pixies liked to live dangerously…seemed it was true of the women as well as the men. But where the men liked to get into fights, Tessa, he believed, was playing a whole different sort of game. One Feral was more than happy to play with her.

“Well, I can’t let this slur to a Kyn go unpunished.” He pushed off from the counter, sauntering toward her, step by slow step. He could move faster than the eye could see, mortal or Pixie, but this wasn’t about speed. It was about the awareness tingling between them, about feeding the attraction to see where it would lead. And about getting a taste of those full, pouting lips. Lips that held a soft smile of invitation.

He reached her and took the mug from her unresisting hands. “I figure I’m going to have to do something about it.” He put the mug on the counter behind her and boxed her in, with a hand on each side of her hips, as he lowered his head.

The softness of her lips took him by surprise, warm and pliant under his. There was no coyness in her response, her lips yielding under his gentle coaxing as her arms wrapped around his shoulders. He groaned as she stroked her tongue along his playfully, shifting to enfold her in his arms as he deepened the kiss.

By the time he lifted his head, their breathing was ragged, and high bands of colour highlighted her cheeks. Feral rested his forehead against hers for a moment and then smiled. “I agree,” he breathed, “Pixies are
great
kissers.”

* * *

Two hours later, Tessa escaped to the solitude of the bathroom, closing the door and leaning back against the wood. He was
gorgeous!
She pinched herself to make sure she wasn’t just imagining everything, fully expecting to wake up on the sofa, the movie over, and her ice cream melting and dribbling all over the floor.

“Ouch!” She rubbed the sore spot on her arm. Okay, so she was awake and this was really happening. She couldn’t believe it. This sort of thing didn’t happen to her. In her world, Feral would have just dumped the baby and disappeared, likely content he was being cared for by someone with a little more knowledge of childcare. But he hadn’t—insisting instead on sticking around in case they “needed anything.”

Tessa sighed, running a hand over her still tingling lips. Then there was the kiss. She’d
never
been kissed that way before, not ever. Slow and thorough, it had been devastating and left her weak at the knees and breathless. Breathless. Anyone would have thought she’d been out running a hundred metres.

She moved to the sink, splashing water on her face before looking into the mirror. God, she looked awful! No makeup, her hair scraped back.

“Ick,” she muttered under her breath, closing her eyes and concentrating a moment. She was half Pixie, on her mother’s side, so low level glamour was all she could achieve. Luckily, that was all she needed to tone down the more exotic elements of her appearance, making her almond-shaped eyes slant a little less, dulling the colour a bit and altering the shape of her cheeks so she appeared just like the average-looking humans she lived amongst. It was easier for female Pixies, without the peacock-like colouring of their male counterparts.

But with a man like Feral in the next room, a vampire who knew all about the world she couldn’t discuss, Tessa gave into vanity and relaxed the glamour a little. She smiled and pulled the tie from her hair, releasing the gold-flecked waves. Without the glamour, thin strands of pure gold wove through the dark mass. Her one claim to beauty.

Her lips quirked as she shook her head at her own silliness. She’d never be a supermodel, that was for sure; she was more curvy than the usual stick insect, not to mention at least a foot too short for the job. Besides, what woman looked glamorous when looking after a baby? Already, she had baby drool on one shoulder of the t-shirt she’d thrown on with a pair of jeans earlier, and spilled formula decorated her thigh.

Ah well, she was used to babysitting, she thought, washing her hands. And it was no hardship. The baby was a cute little thing, more developed than she’d have expected, making Feral and her laugh earlier as they chatted on the sofa.

It wouldn’t be for long though. She’d left voicemail messages for just about everyone she could think of. Someone, somewhere, had to know if there was a baby missing. In fact, she was surprised no one was knocking down the door already. He really was a cute little thing.

Then there was the weird note. She couldn’t make out more than a few words about the Morrigan, and the baby being the Winter King, but she didn’t believe that. Did she?

She shook her head as she headed out of the bathroom. No, it was too old a legend to pay much credence to. No doubt the work of fanatics. The Fae seemed to collect them like other species collected knickknacks.

“So how’s he doing?” She walked back into the main room. The scene which met her, the half-naked man sprawled across the sofa, almost dwarfing it, and the baby crawling around the floor, made her pause for a second. A strange feeling buzzed in her head, her vision swimming in and out as the edges blackened.
Deja-vu, I’ve seen this before…or I will.

“Hey there…you ok?” Feral’s voice brought her back to the present and she blinked, clearing her vision.

“Yeah, I’m fine. Just felt a bit…odd there for a moment. Is he ok?” She smiled in reassurance and walked around the sofa to check on the baby.

“Yeah, he’s a happy little bunny down here…chewin’ on my phone. You know, we should decide on a name for him. We can’t keep calling him ‘the baby’…was there anything about his name on that note?” Feral leaned forward and rested his forearms on his knees, looking down at the object under discussion.

Tessa glanced at the note on the counter and shook her head. “Not that I can work out. I flunked ancient Fae, I’m afraid,” her lips quirked a little, “I never was what you would call
academic.
”

She settled on the sofa next to him. “Without knowing what his parents, whoever they are, called him, it’s difficult. Calling him something else might confuse him, but he seems bright to me. And if just for a little while… What do you reckon we should call him?”

*

They settled on “Spud” for some reason. But, like so much of this evening, the reason “why” had bypassed Feral completely. He’d never met a woman who could shift his attention like she could. It was a new sensation for the large Kyn Warrior.

She was beautiful. When she’d come back from the bathroom with her glamour stripped away, her true features, only hinted at before, had been revealed. Exotic, feline-cast features which had taken his breath away. He’d thought he could see through Pixies’ glamour, a talent granted by his own paranormal blood. But now, he realised the truth—he could see the glamour itself, and the
potential
of what lay beyond, but nothing more. A realisation which was a little levelling, to say the least.

Left alone in the kitchen whilst Tessa put the newly named Spud down for the evening, Feral smoothed a large hand over his head, rubbing at the thick stubble. Like most Kyn, he had a full head of hair. Baldness wasn’t something his species, as a whole, suffered from, but he preferred to shave it short. There was nothing an opponent could grab, a preference he’d developed after a Rogue vamp had ripped a chunk of his hair out by its roots. Damn that had hurt! Now, the frequent use of a razor kept the length in check, but the five o’clock shadow could be a bitch.

Leaning back against the counter, the large Kyn wondered what the hell he was still doing at the apartment. It was the sort of cozy scene he would’ve gladly cut off an arm or a leg to avoid, beating a hasty retreat if he chanced across it, down at the compound. Which was getting harder and harder.

The compound, once housing mostly male warriors, each with a higher testosterone count than a squad of marines, had recently been overrun with cooing couples. It was as if the recent marriage of their King, Marak, had opened the floodgates. Now all the warriors were pairing off, his patrol partner Vix, amongst them.

They may as well rename the place the “Happy Kyn Night Nursery” and have done with it. It was the main reason he and several of the other guys, all diehard commitment phobes, had beat a hasty retreat and moved out to bachelor pads.