Page 9

Chapter 9

Andy

R iver really was a wonder. He had come back from Magea wearing a fitted t-shirt and a long, flowing, patterned skirt that somehow reminded me of both his native American and Japanese heritage. It was a beautiful blending of traditional and modern, new and old, Planus and magic, masculine and soft. He settled his skirt around him as he sat cross-legged on the blanket Zhong had brought him, his hide drum resting on his lap. As the others filtered in looking curious, wary—and a bit high—he softly began to play a slow beat on the drum. It gradually grew louder and a bit faster, reminding me of a heartbeat. A pulse.

I expected questions. Demands. Snarky comments. But no one spoke as we all found a place on the cushions and blankets that were scattered in a circle around the courtyard. It was as if the purely mundane drum in River’s hands held a magic all its own. I felt it call to something inside me. Something primal. Something bittersweet and wild.

Grief, I thought. Though it was mixed with something else. And I immediately missed Hasumi’s ability to tell me exactly what it was I was feeling. To help me sort out the maelstrom inside my head and my heart.

River’s citrine eyes met mine, and he gave me a soft, sad smile. Then he got to work drawing us all out of our misery and pain. Bringing those feelings alive and letting them swirl around us, free and unrestrained. He sang. His deep voice was a soft hum at first, a chant without words, that nonetheless managed to speak right to my heart.

Slowly his voice rose, and words formed. He didn’t lecture us or give us some peptalk about moving on. Instead, he sang of all the things Hasumi was. A song about grace and feeling. About the sensitive, empathic, fluid essence of who the water weaver was. Somehow his song painted the picture perfectly, even though he didn’t know Hasumi the way the rest of us did. Somehow, he had seen. He knew. Ever observant, even when he didn’t seem to be, like the cat he was.

His song fell back into wordless sound again, emotion given wing without words, and he nodded toward us. I felt the urge to join him swell in my throat, but I held it back. No one wanted to hear me sing.

A deep, smoky voice joined River’s, soft and slinking, cool as shadows to my senses, which were open and taking in not only sight and sound, but the auras around me. The loss. The love.

Ambrose smiled faintly at me as he hummed and vocalized, as if he were a trained musician. It wasn’t long before he was joined by a chorus of voices. Niamh’s throaty alto, Zhong and Dyre’s rich bass, Elijah’s warm baritone. Even Aahil joined in, in a heart wrenchingly clear and perfect tenor.

River’s eyes locked with mine again, and he quirked a brow as he continued to play his drum, the others carrying the song. “Join us, Andy,” he said, just loudly enough to carry over the sounds around us.

I shook my head, my cheeks flushing with embarrassment. “I can’t.”

I was completely and utterly awful at singing. I could hear the rich fabric of tones around me when others sang or played. But I couldn’t carry a tune in a bucket myself.

River just shook his head. “Pick a note and hum,” he insisted. “Be the foundation, and we will build around you.”

The beautiful song paused. I swallowed the lump in my throat as everyone stared at me, waiting. Be the foundation. It felt like River was talking about more than just a silly song. These amazing people had made me their foundation. Built their new lives around me. Even after I had led Hasumi to their death… these idiots still trusted me so completely.

Tears flowed unchecked down my cheek as I picked a wavering note and hummed it as loud as I could. It wasn’t until that very moment that I let myself acknowledge the full scope of my pain and grief. Hasumi’s loss was a huge, gaping hole in my heart. But I had also lost all faith in myself. In my ability to make decisions that affected everyone around me.

I cried for Hasumi. I cried for my own hurt and loss, and the hurt and loss the others suffered through as well. But I also cried for love. For the aching, warm, terrifying strength of what I felt humming along all the magical bonds I shared with my friends and lovers. With my found family of lost souls. I bawled like a baby, but I held onto that one, odd, wavering note. Being the foundation.

And just as River predicted, they all built around me. I didn’t have to match their tone or find a note. They adjusted to me. Moving when I moved. Pausing when I paused. Letting me lead them even though I had no idea what I was doing.

I was surprised when I glanced around the circle and found tears on even the most stoic faces. Aahil sat to my right, and when my gaze landed on him, seeing the raw, shimmering tears in his golden eyes, he took my hand in his and squeezed, clinging to me for dear life, his fiery energy surging through my aura thanks to our bond. I could do this. I could endure this pain. Because I had to. For them.

It wasn’t just Aahil who needed an anchor. We all did. And somewhere deep inside, somehow, I suddenly accepted that I was the only one who could do it. I relaxed my magical shields fully, opening myself, dropping all of my defenses, all of my tension, and judgement, and guilt. Letting out a deep breath, I let my magic and my love flow outward, flooding every bond I possessed.

A collective gasp rippled through the circle, as everyone but River was suddenly connected. The love, the deep affection and respect, the solid, unwavering support that echoed back to me, amplified by every bright spark around me, was like a golden tonic that eased all the wounded places inside me. Inside us all.

When the song faded and the drumbeats slowed, I pulled back my magic. But the connection lingered, warm and alive in my aura and beneath my skin. River glanced around the circle, looking at each of us in turn. “There it is,” he said with a soft smile. “Whatever you just did, it was what you all needed.”

He set his drum aside, and picked up the wooden flute. “Sssh,” he soothed. “Don’t talk yet. Just stay in that space. Let it move through you. Let Hasumi’s spirit move through you and release it to the sky.”

He played a soft, haunting, rhythmic song. The woodwind whisper of the flute seemed fitting. As if it could carry energy—or feelings—straight up to whatever higher place might exist. It really did feel like something sacred, a ceremony. Despite the absence of grave words or fancy flower wreaths, or any trappings of societal niceties, it felt like a sacred space, more than any funeral I had ever attended. And eventually, as memories of Hasumi filled my mind, the pain in and around me began to shift, to turn to fondness and joy instead.

We were all lucky to have had the water weaver in our lives. And Hasumi would not have wanted us to linger in sadness any longer than we absolutely had to. They had always wanted us all to be happy and whole.

As the sacred feeling slowly subsided and the “ceremony” part of the evening wound down, we all moved closer together, grouped around the firepit next to the endless crackling magic flames Aahil produced. Ambrose disappeared, then reappeared with a pot of his “herbal” tea. And Aahil momentarily left us only to return with a bottle of what I was pretty sure was a very expensive Indian whiskey. I didn’t even ask where he’d found it. Some questions were best left unanswered.

Despite the reason for the gathering, the grief of evening morphed into telling sweet or humorous stories about our experiences with Hasumi. As the herbs and liquor flowed, there was more music, and eventually, dancing. Niamh surprised us all by asking River if she could borrow his flute. When he easily agreed, she played a fast, jaunty fae song that had everyone making their most ridiculous attempts at dancing a jig.

When she finished, someone dragged an antique gramophone from the dusty recesses of the mansion into the hallway just inside the door and began playing ancient records. The sound carried out into the courtyard nicely, adding a strange but welcome backdrop to our antics. I watched fondly as Ambrose drew a blushing Dyre into a rather impressive fancy formal dance of some sort. The kind of thing I probably would have been forced to learn, if I had grown up among my stuffy aristocratic witch relatives. Elijah watched them with a wistful expression on his face, and I grinned when Ambrose dragged him into the fun as well, forcing them to execute some sort of weird three-way waltz that had them all laughing.

And sharing a kiss here and there. Which made my heart swell with happiness for them. Apparently, we were all past trying to fight our feelings at this point. Finally.

Aahil offered me his bottle. and I gladly took the last swig, mourning the loss of the excellent liquor. We had managed to consume it in record time, with a little help from the others. I had a low, lingering buzz despite the limited amounts of substances I’d imbibed, which made me think Aahil had added a little something to the alcohol. But I wasn’t complaining.

The jinn set the empty bottle aside and nudged my shoulder. I obligingly wrapped an arm around him, and he did the unspeakable and snuggled up against my side. Then he acted more himself, leaning in to bite the side of my neck. “I’m trying not to be a complete asshole, but is it wrong that I want to violently fuck you right now?” he whispered in my ear.

I was not the only one who was buzzed. Practically immortal all-powerful elemental or not, Aahil had hit that whiskey (and whatever else) hard. And he was brimming with strong emotions. That tended to bring out the urge to lose yourself.

“Ow!” I laughed and teasingly swatted at him. The temptation to take him up on his offer was strong. But he still had some hesitation about sex when he was sober. And I didn’t want him to do something he might freak out about later. “Are you a jinn or a rottweiler? Go bite someone else. I’m moping.”

He huffed, then pressed a kiss to the underside of my jaw. “I love you, witch.”

I tilted my head to look down at him. “I love you too, you tiny terror. Go play. Come see me again when you’re sober and we’ll talk.”

He sighed, long and deep, like I’d just ruined his whole life and crushed all his hopes and dreams. “Fine.”

Dragging himself to his feet, he brushed his silky hair back out of his eyes and sauntered closer to the fire, where Zhong was talking with Niamh. Then the gorgeous jinn took off his shirt, tossed it aside, and started swaying his lean hips, the firelight gleaming on his golden skin and shiny hair, glinting off the piercings in his nipples and belly button. His movements accentuated the fluid, powerful way he moved, reminding me of how he moved in bed, all sensual, sinuous grace.

If he was determined to show me what I was missing, he was succeeding. What a brat.

Zhong’s eyes kept straying to the jinn as he struggled to keep up with his conversation with Niamh, and Aahil grinned, wicked and self-satisfied. I shook my head at his antics. Let Zhong handle him. I was too buzzed to play his games.

River plopped down beside me with a sigh, his eyes on Aahil, just like everyone else at the moment. “He really is something, isn’t he?”

I chuckled darkly. “That’s one way of putting it.”

“You say that,” he commented with a wry, humorous tone. “But the two of you are well-matched.” He waved a big hand, indicating the gathering by the fire. “You all are. It’s… beautiful to witness.”

I shrugged. I privately agreed, but I didn’t want to be an asshole and brag about it to the odd man out. “You seem surprised,” I said instead. “But isn’t polyamory pretty common in shifter clans?”

He nodded as he chuckled at the others, who were acting like a bunch of kids trying to out-dance each other now, making an absolute mockery of Aahil’s lustful display. Although… Elijah had some surprisingly sensual hip skills himself.

“Yes,” River said in answer to my question. “It’s pretty common with my people. And platonic communal living in general as well. But I’ve never been a part of something like that. I always felt… like an outsider somehow. Even though I love my clan.” He shrugged. “And I’ve never seen a group bonded so completely. So right for each other. I suppose it makes me jealous.”

I turned my head to look at him, a fluttery feeling washing through my stomach. “Jealous?”

He glanced over at me, then huffed a laugh, looking down at his hands, where they rested in his lap. “I didn’t mean to say that out loud. Isn’t that strange? How does the brain decide so quickly which thoughts stay thoughts and which thoughts become words? I read an article once about the neural pathways involved, but it’s been quite some time. I’ve forgotten the specifics. Maybe I should brush up on the—”

“River.”

He stooped talking and gave me a sheepish look. “Sorry. I went off on a tangent. I know people hate that.”

I huffed a laugh and patted his knee. “I don’t mind your tangents. It’s cute. But I think this time I’d rather stay on topic.”

He blinked at me with firelight dancing in his big, sparkly citrine eyes. “Cute?”

Speaking of things I hadn’t meant to say out loud... I shrugged. “Sure. You’re excited about knowledge. And the things that you’re interested in tell me a lot about you. But, I think you’re deflecting here.” I smirked.

He ran a hand through his long black hair and sat taller. “Maybe.”

I nudged my shoulder against his. “I’m sorry you feel left out. It must be lonely, being the only single person in a house full of sex-crazed weirdos.”

He tilted his head, watching my face as he spoke. “I don’t think you’re sex crazed. That is something else entirely. You all seem to have a healthy libido, sure. But you clearly love each other. Why would you try to diminish that?”

My face heated up as I did my best to take his literal interpretation of what I’d said in stride. “I didn’t mean it,” I said with a grimace. “ I was deflecting that time. With humor and flippant words. It’s a thing I do.”

He shook his head. “Ah. I’m being weird again.”

And that was sad. So fucking sad that people had made him feel bad for how he thought or who he was. Because he was awesome. And I got the feeling people had been shitty to him a lot in the past.

“You’re not weird,” I said firmly. “You’re just perfect. Thank you for everything you did for us tonight. For everything you did for me. You risked going back to Magea to make this perfect for us. You insisted on helping, even though I was being stubborn and trying to lock up all my feelings and wallow in guilt.” I sighed. “And, fuck, you’re the whole damned reason I’m even alive right now. So… thank you.”

“And stop being mean to yourself,” I added, maybe still a bit drunker than I realized, the way the words just spewed out. “And if you want to fuck one of them, just speak up. They’re a bit dense sometimes, so they might need you to be blunt and make the first move. But I know most of them think you’re hot.”

I expected some sort of blushing or stammering denial in response to my unfiltered bluntness. But I had forgotten that I was speaking to a shifter. From what I’d heard over the years, and from how River acted, I got the impression they didn’t have a lot of hangups about sex. “Well, the thought had occurred to me,” he said with a lopsided smile. “But like I said, you’re all so emotionally bonded. I wasn’t sure there was room for a meaningless bit of fun.”

I just stared at him. I was way too buzzed and emotionally scrambled right now to formulate a nice, logical response to that. “Who says it has to be meaningless?” I managed.

His eyes met mine, and his teasing expression sobered, softening into something more tender. Something vulnerable and real. “Doesn’t it?”

I licked my lips, my heart suddenly pounding so hard I thought it might leap right out of my chest. What was happening right now? “I don’t think so,” I murmured. “I don’t think any of us do ‘meaningless’ anymore.”

His glittering gaze dropped to my lips, then back up again. “So, if I kissed you right now…”

It was getting hard to breathe for some reason. But my mouth moved anyway. “It wouldn’t be meaningless to me.”

“Oh.” He breathed the word, barely a whisper, a second before his soft lips met mine and his hand slid into my hair to cup the back of my head, holding me close.

I sank into the kiss, magic and excitement flaring through me like an electric current. Then I tilted my head, inviting him in, deepening the kiss. Goddess, I had been trying not to notice how much I wanted this guy—how much I liked him—for so long now. The tongue that met mine didn’t feel human. A bit longer than I expected, and… textured. I groaned at the thought of what it might feel like to be licked everywhere by that tongue.

River’s free hand came to my waist, and he started to pull me closer, but then he stopped and pulled away. His eyes were glowing faintly as he gazed at me like he wanted to eat me. Like he was the cat and I was the mouse. Or… he was the leopard who could take down much bigger prey…

I shuddered and he pulled away even more. “Fuck.”

I frowned at him. “What? Do I have bad breath or something? That whiskey was a bit much.”

But he just smiled and shook his head at me. “No. It’s not that. I’m pretty sure I could never get enough of kissing you, Oleander. But you’re intoxicated. And I although I have never fully understood why some cultures find it taboo to commit intimate acts when under the influence of substances, I know witches are one of those cultures. I think it’s perfectly natural to ease your way though fraught emotional times by indulging in sex and other sensual pleasures. I don’t see it as taking advantage , the way some insist. It’s simply sharing mutual pleasure. In fact, some studies show that—”

I put my hand over his mouth. “River.”

He closed his eyes and stopped babbling. When I removed my hand from his mouth, he sighed. “I’m sorry. I did it again. But what I was trying to say was—”

“I know,” I said grudgingly. “It might not be the best idea to plow the witch while she’s drunk and grieving.”

He touched my cheek, his handsome face apologetic. “I would like nothing more than to play with you. But as I believe you recently turned down your pretty, murderous jinn for similar reasons, I should probably respect the social norms.”

I rolled my eyes, but sure enough, when I glanced over toward the fire, I found Aahil watching us with a murderous expression on his face, his arms crossed over his lean chest and the promise of revenge in his eyes.

“Goddess damn it.”

River chuckled, then leaned in to whisper in my ear, making Aahil arch a dark eyebrow at us from across the way. “Do you… share? Perhaps he wouldn’t be so likely to murder me if his cock was down my throat while you rode me.”

I almost died of lust right then and there. This directness was going to take some getting used to. But I felt it was only fair to warn River before I expired. “I wouldn’t count on that saving you,” I whispered back gravely. “He’d probably enjoy choking you with it.”

Aahil’s other brow rose to match its mate, as if he could hear us whispering from all the way over there. Although, he was a fire jinn, with sex magic. He could probably sense where our minds were at without hearing us at all.

“I’d probably enjoy it too,” River whispered back.

When I turned my head to look at him, he winked. “What a way to go, right?” Then he pressed a quick, playful kiss to my lips and jumped up to go talk to Zhong, putting a big, protective gargoyle between him and the tiny ball of sexy murder who was headed my way.