Page 5 of The Brave (Black Arrowhead #6)

F ollowing my private exam with the Relic, I assured Mercy everything went fine, avoiding any questions. To divert her interest, I mentioned the Relic’s suggestion about reducing my stress.

“We’ll have to do something about that,” Mercy said decidedly. “I know just the medicine you need.”

During a quick call to the house, Mercy passed along the news that she and I would be dining out this evening. I had spent my entire life as a socialite, and although I didn’t miss being onstage, I missed dancing and dining. Not being able to drink wasn’t a big deal even though I loved a glass of chardonnay. I’d been going out less to the Rabbit Lounge because of the smoky atmosphere, especially in the evening. But if I had to be honest, I preferred upscale establishments. I was accustomed to exemplary service and celebrity treatment, and even after my fame diminished, those small luxuries made me feel special. Maybe spoiling myself compensated for the fact that my family had banished me from their home.

Dragonfly’s was the closest to upscale dining and service in this town. Thankfully, Mercy chose to go there instead of the Rabbit Lounge, likely because Calvin would put her to work if we showed up at the bar.

When we arrived, one of the staff recognized me straight away. Mercy was impressed that she even greeted me by name. The worker escorted us down the stairs and offered to seat us wherever we wanted. Admittedly, the special attention flattered me. They must have recognized me from the time Cecilia and I were harassed by a customer.

Though most people dined in the gold room, we opted to head to the green room in the back.

I admired the sconces, which cast a golden glow on the walls. “Isn’t this breathtaking?”

Tastefully decorated with green furniture, flowers, and a curved bar, the room’s classy atmosphere appealed to me. It reminded me of a bygone era when people dressed up for a night out.

Mercy touched one of the gardenias as we strolled to the bar and sat on plush barstools. “I bet he spends a fortune on flowers. Why doesn’t he buy the fake ones?”

“Because those little touches matter. And you can’t replicate that lush smell.” After setting my purse down, I signaled the bartender we were ready to order. “I’ll drive home, so order whatever you want.”

She winked. “That’s what I like to hear. Barkeep, I’ll have one of those delicious peach cocktails. Please and thank you.”

“And for the lady?” he asked, meeting my eyes.

I wiggled on my stool to get comfortable. “Sweet tea with a slice of lemon. No alcohol.”

He walked off and proceeded to fix our drink order.

Mercy studied me closely, and it was obvious she wanted to say something.

“Speak what’s on your mind.” I encouraged her by touching her hand. “Honey, I won’t be offended.”

“Aren’t you even a little excited?”

“Relieved to know more, but it’s still not sinking in.” On a long sigh, I collected the glass the bartender set before me.

“Well, Tak gave us a speech earlier,” she said while touching her heart-shaped earring. “Your business is your business, but you’re not alone no matter what you decide. Just ignore me. I can be a little nosy sometimes.”

I smiled warmly while Mercy eagerly drank her cocktail. While I no longer felt stressed about keeping the baby a secret, another emotion snuck up on me unexpectedly: guilt.

I bet she’s wondering why I’m not excited about the pregnancy. Maybe I should tell her about the tears I’ve shed each night while lying beside a man who doesn’t love me. Snap out of it. Smile and come up with something pleasant to talk about.

Oversharing could turn the pack against Salem, and I didn’t want that. He was beholden to me for a grave error he’d made, but it had nothing to do with them. I also remembered Milly’s advice to avoid stress, so I needed to stop focusing on all my problems and just learn to relax.

“Dang!” Mercy finished off her glass. “That’s the most delicious drink in all of Storybook. I keep telling Calvin he needs to spice up our menu, but he absolutely despises mixing cocktails.”

I flagged the bartender and smiled. “She’ll have another.”

She gave my arm a friendly pat. “I need to take you out more often.”

“How are you and Bear adjusting to mated life?”

Her megawatt smile said it all. “Bear’s a big ol’ sweetheart. We never have fights. We disagree but always work it out. He’s the most patient man I’ve ever met. How did I get so lucky? And it’s nice we get to see each other at work for a couple of hours. Late at night, we sit up and talk.”

“About what?”

“Oh, lots of things. He tells me all kinds of crazy stories. We talk about places we want to travel to, future plans. He has this sexy way of describing food that gets me all hot under the collar. Then we do a little wrestling.”

I giggled. “That’s one way to describe it.”

She cocked her head to the side. “I always knew something was up with you and Salem. Every relationship is different, but you two didn’t have any chemistry. You sure made a purty couple, but there wasn’t a connection that I saw. How in the world did hot Jesus court a glamorous woman like you?” She thanked the bartender when he handed her the cocktail. “I asked him once how you two met.”

I nervously cleared my throat. “What did he say?”

“He suddenly had to leave the conversation and go check on something.” Mercy gripped her glass, swiveled around to face the room, and crossed her slim legs. Her sneakers were ones Melody had designed with blue butterflies painted on them. “I think we need to find you a date. What about the fellow in the brown cowboy boots?”

Turning to look, I replied, “Absolutely not.”

“What’s your type?”

“Men who take pride in their appearance. Not ones who wear T-shirts that advertise beer.”

She choked on her drink before setting it down. “Ignore the image of the giant beer glass and just read the words.”

I silently read the words on his T-shirt: I Love Good Head .

“Well, that’s even worse,” I muttered. “Fashion is dreadful these days. There was a time when you couldn’t enter a club or restaurant without the proper attire. Men wore hats and jackets.”

“It’s a different age,” she remarked. “You’d be lucky to find a man who wasn’t wearing flip-flops to a wedding. How about the hot guy by the gardenias? He looks dapper with the bow tie. You don’t see those anymore.”

I admired the bearded man, who probably spent more hours grooming than I did. Frankly, the idea of dating put a bad taste in my mouth. Men used to call me high-maintenance, but I simply knew what I wanted… and what I didn’t. Every woman deserves to be treated like a queen, and far too many men had treated me like a fool. What made these men any different?

“Oh my lord. What is he doing here?” Mercy craned her neck. “Virgil?”

I searched the room and spotted Virgil lying on a sofa, his head in a woman’s lap and his feet in a man’s. With his fingers laced across his stomach, he held his audience’s rapt attention while spinning one of his tall tales.

I sipped my drink. “How do you think he got here? The walk is much too far.”

Mercy checked her phone messages. “Mel says that he went to the Rabbit Lounge with Krys. I bet he found out we were coming here and decided to crash the party. Can’t we have girl time without a Virgil intervention? That boy is always looking for drama.”

As if he’d heard us, Virgil raised his head. “Ladies!” Abandoning his new friends, he swaggered over, his open trench coat revealing his bare chest.

Virgil’s eyes hooded when he placed his hands on my shoulders. “How are you feeling, sugarplum?”

“Just dandy. And what brings you here?”

“Life, love, and laughter.”

Mercy rolled her eyes. “Did Calvin cut you off again?”

He flashed a sheepish grin while straightening up. “I only had one sensory drink.”

“Sure. And how many did you have here?”

“Enough that I can see your eloquent auras. When I first came to this town, I thought I’d be trapped in a house with a bunch of male energy. Not that I have any problem with that, but feminine energy is the heart of the universe.”

Mercy lifted her glass. “You get all philosophical when you’ve had too many sensory drinks.”

“They don’t give you hangovers,” he pointed out. “Besides, it makes problems go away.”

“What you need to do is go to the dining room and order yourself a hot meal and dessert.”

He ran his hands down his bare chest. “And ruin my irresistible physique?” Virgil squeezed between us and turned to face the room. “All I want for Christmas is a little chest hair. Archer’s trying to shape me up, but he says I have to drink more protein, and it’s so hard ,” he whined. “What’s wrong with my body? Am I that hideous?” Virgil dramatically threw back his head.

Virgil boasted about the women he seduced, but I’d met all kinds of people in my life and had a feeling he swung both ways like a pendulum. Shifters with alternate lifestyles were criticized by traditionalists who felt like it was our sole duty to procreate and keep the species alive.

Having spent my entire life as an entertainer, I could relate to being an outcast. As a form of birth control, I never dated Shifters. And because of it, people freely criticized my lifestyle. Even now, my uncertainty about keeping the baby cast a shadow on my character whether they wanted to confess it aloud or not.

Virgil didn’t strike me as one to ever settle down. He was too promiscuous and carefree for a man of two hundred. Then again, I wasn’t a glowing example of a mother figure, and yet here I was, carrying a child.

Mercy flicked one of his nipple rings. “How long are you gonna keep these?”

He flashed an impish grin while pulling back his tousled hair. “I can hook you up with one of your own, Shortcake.”

“Bear would have a heart attack.”

“Well, what about down below?”

She lifted her drink to her lips. “You’re crazier than a rabid squirrel on the highway.”

“If I had a nickel for every time I’ve heard that, I’d have zero cents.”

While they continued their conversation about body piercings, I strolled to the end of the bar to snag the bartender’s attention. “Excuse me, do you serve food in here?”

He rested his arms on the bar. “We don’t serve meals in this room, but we have appetizers.”

“What about caviar?”

He scoffed. “That’s a little fancy.” As he leaned back, he flicked his eyes up and stared past me. The bartender’s cheeks flushed, and in the blink of an eye, his demeanor changed. “If you want a high-class dessert, we have an exquisite sundae made from vanilla bean ice cream, chocolate syrup made from one of the most expensive chocolates in the world, and gold leaf. It has truffles, marzipan cherries, and a little orange peel. We usually reserve that for our most special guests.”

“How much?”

“On the house.”

I jerked my head back. “Why would you give away something that’s clearly expensive?”

He bowed. “Courtesy of the owner. I’ll be back.” He snapped his fingers at another bartender to take over before he made a hasty exit.

Intrigued, I shifted my gaze until I located Atticus Rain at the back of the room. His pale blond hair and dark attire made him easy to spot. He inclined his head at me before turning his attention to a talkative gentleman standing beside him.

“Have we met?” a man asked.

I clutched my shawl when a slim fellow on my left inched closer. After a quick assessment of his curly grey hair, grey eyes, and pudgy nose, I shook my head, not recognizing him. “I’m afraid you have me mixed up with someone else.”

His thin lips eased into a grin. “Yeah, we’ve met. I’d never forget that voice. You’re the famous Monroe impersonator. I saw you perform back in ’89—before you got that scar.” His eyes slid down. “I bet you’ve still got the curves beneath that shawl.”

“I appreciate your admiration. If you don’t mind?—”

He stepped closer and lowered his voice to an intimate volume. “I always wondered what it would be like to fuck Marilyn.”

I drew in a light gasp.

“Oh, you want to pretend like you don’t know what I’m talking about?” he went on. “I heard all about your… private performances. You’re a legend.” He brushed his finger over my arm and gave a throaty chuckle. “Whaddya say, doll? Still got that white dress? I’ll pay real good.”

I slapped him across the face.

The instant he slapped me back, a dark figure jumped between us. Atticus seized the man’s wrist, snapped it, then buried his face in the pervert’s neck.

Virgil’s arms wrapped around me from behind. “Are you okay? What happened?”

My head spun as Atticus sucked the man’s blood before shoving him to the ground. Barely lucid, the grey-haired man clutched his neck and trembled under the Vampire’s wrath.

I took a deep breath, my heart pounding.

Atticus lifted a napkin from the bar and wiped his mouth. “Only a coward would strike a woman,” he bit out. “Henceforth, you’re blacklisted. If you enjoy having your head attached to your spine, never set foot in here again.” Then he snapped his fingers at a server. “Take out the trash.”

Mercy appeared to be processing it all. “What happened? I was talking to Virgil and thought I heard a slap.”

My cheek was stinging, but not as much as my pride.

Atticus pivoted, his black eyes brimming with concern as he approached me. His gaze fastened on my cheek, and my heart quickened at the intimate way he brushed his fingers along my jaw.

“That shithead slapped Joy,” Virgil ground out. “I saw it! He’s completely unhinged.”

Tremors racked Virgil’s body as he battled against his instinct to shift.

I turned to face him. “Virgil, calm down.”

“Are you okay?” Mercy took my arm, her eyes wide as she studied my face.

“I’m fine. It’s over.”

Virgil exploded into his wolf. Because he didn’t move during the process, he got tangled up in his coat.

“Holy mackerel!” Mercy exclaimed. “Virgil, don’t you dare bite anyone.”

He growled and then whined, still intoxicated on Sensor magic. When he slipped out of the jacket and bolted toward where my assailant had been dragged out, Mercy sprinted after him. Light glinted on one of his bloody nipple rings on the floor.

Atticus clutched my arm. His regal visage was inscrutable. “Come with me.”

Desperate to escape everyone’s inquisitive gaze, I followed him through the busy club while struggling to gather my fragmented thoughts. When Atticus reached a door on the left side of the gold room, a fingerprint scanner gave us authorized access. We walked down a dimly lit hallway and into a private office at the far end. After closing the door, he shepherded me to the leather couches on the left.

I sat on the one that gave me a view of the room. The large desk and bookshelf on the opposite end made me wonder how much time he spent in here. Atticus pushed a panel on the left-hand wall, and it clicked open. A light shone on him, and frosty air filtered out from a freezer. Then he opened another panel and pulled out a plastic bag.

My gaze wandered to the three sculptures in the room, which were elegant but out of place in a nightclub.

He tossed his coat clear across the room, and it landed on the desk. “Are you thirsty?”

“I’m fine.”

When Atticus shut the freezer door, he turned toward me with his shirt wadded up in his hand.

“That’s more than enough,” I said, rising to my feet.

“I’m not here to seduce you. It’s only to wrap around the bag of ice.” He approached me with an aristocratic swagger, like a man who had spent a considerable amount of his life with the upper echelons. “Hold this against your cheek.”

My gaze fixed on his bloody chin. I accepted the ice and sat down. “This really isn’t necessary,” I told him, still out of breath and wondering what in the world I was doing alone in a room with a Vampire. “I’ll just shift when I get home to prevent any bruising.”

He dipped his chin. “We both know that isn’t true.”

My skin erupted in goose bumps. “What do you mean?” I was certain that neither Mercy nor I had mentioned the baby in conversation. Or had we?

Atticus looked at me as if he could read my mind. He sat on the opposite couch and laced his fingers together. “Let me allay your fears: I don’t intend to discuss your private business with anyone, but I’ve known about the pregnancy since the moment we met.”

My heart skipped a beat. “Impossible! But how?”

“Magic.” He winked at me. “Keep the ice on your cheek.”

Stunned, I raised the ice pack. Milly had warned me not to tell anyone about the pregnancy. What on earth could I do about this?

Atticus turned his gaze down to my stomach. “I hear things others can’t, even in the first trimester. I’ve always known, but in my long life, I’ve learned not to meddle. It was never mentioned by anyone in your pack, so I assumed you either didn’t know or were keeping it secret. Though now one can hardly conceal it.”

I glanced down at my stomach. “I’m not showing in an obvious way.”

He gave a lazy smile and rumpled his pale blond hair. “You are to me.”

“My pack knows now.”

“I should hope so.”

Atticus had sinewy muscles, and I didn’t notice any tattoos or obvious scars on his torso. A Vampire’s strength wasn’t defined by appearance. They were inherently powerful and could break a table in two.

“Let me get you a drink.” Atticus rose and stood like a statue with perfect form. “What would you like? Anything.”

“I’m not thirsty.” I lowered the ice when my cheek became numb.

“I’m sorry we don’t have caviar, but I’ll rectify that in the future.”

“Don’t alter your menu just for me. The gold-dipped ice cream is more than enough,” I tacked on.

“You won’t be having that tonight.”

“And why not?”

“You should never indulge in decadent food while in pain.”

I laughed softly. “That’s silly. Food brings comfort.”

“For mental distress perhaps. But physical? You’ll never be able to separate the memory even if it’s subconscious. When you eventually taste our luxurious ice cream, you’ll be in a better state of mind. I’ll make sure you have the finest table and my staff at your beck and call.”

Watching him closely, I realized he wasn’t joking. Why would he go out of his way to spoil me? Then it dawned on me. “Are you worried that I’ll ruin your reputation by telling people how I’ve been assaulted in your club twice? Is that why you’re bending over backward to please me?”

Still standing, Atticus hung his head and sighed. “I should have gotten to you sooner. There’s no excuse. For that, you have my deepest apologies, and I will be your humble servant.”

“In my previous life, it happened all too frequently. Men either treated me like tinsel on a Christmas tree or a piece of property. Not all men, but enough that I don’t blindly trust anyone.”

He risked a glance. “Including your Packmaster? Did he know about the baby?”

I set the ice next to me. “That’s hardly your business.”

In the awkward silence, Atticus returned to his spot. “I couldn’t help but overhear some of your conversation with Ms. Breedlove. Did your mate reject you?”

I rose to my feet.

“He’s a deplorable excuse for a man.” Atticus met my eyes. “If you were mine, I would never treat you as less than a queen.”

“Salem and I were never a couple. It was a facade. But he’s a good man. He’s smart and helps people.”

“Except the one who needs it most.”

“That’s where you’re wrong.” I adjusted my shawl. “Salem was willing to care for me when no one else would, but we couldn’t maintain a fake relationship in a pack for long. I shouldn’t even be telling you this. Are you charming me?”

“We’ve barely made eye contact.” Atticus rose to his feet and stood five inches taller. “Was he not there in your previous life? You mentioned men mistreated you. Did you not have a protector?”

“I learned to protect myself. People are deceptive, and it’s not always easy to spot the real wolves. When you’re a performer, no one takes you seriously.”

His black irises glittered with curiosity. “What kind of performer?”

I gave a breathy laugh. “Are you serious? You can’t be serious. I was an impersonator.”

He gave a blank stare.

This was an absolute first. The younger people didn’t always make the connection, but surely Atticus Rain hadn’t spent the past century in a cave. When it was clear he wasn’t trying to be funny, I realized how good it felt. Maybe someday I’d be able to separate myself from my past life for good.

“Marilyn Monroe. Why do you think that man approached me?”

“Because he doesn’t care to know the woman you are.”

“They see what they want to see. Even without all the makeup and glamorous clothes, I can’t escape it.”

“To me you look like Joy.”

What does he want from me? No one’s ever this nice without an ulterior motive.

He slowly raked his hair back. “I’ll burn this place to the ground before I let another man lay a hand on you. That means I’ll station a guard near your table on every visit.” His eyes swung down to my belly. “May I?”

I stepped back. “May you what?”

“Listen.”

Vampires had incredibly powerful hearing, so I wasn’t sure what he meant until he knelt before me. I stood flummoxed as Atticus placed his ear against my belly.

He sighed as if he were stepping into a hot bath. “That’s a sound that could lull me to sleep.”

“Vampires don’t sleep.”

His eyes flashed up and curved into black crescent moons when he smiled wide. “That we don’t.” Atticus rose to his feet, and after casting the plastic bag of ice aside, he slipped on his damp shirt. “Tell me, Joy, is there anything you need? I can make calls and secure the best midwife on the continent.”

“Please don’t.”

The thought of anyone calling around on my behalf unnerved me.

“Whatever you desire, I’m at your disposal.” He gestured to the door before walking alongside me. “It isn’t lost on me that you don’t trust Vampires, but I intend to earn your trust, just as I did with Melody’s former pack.”

Stopping at the door, I asked, “Why does it matter? I thought all Vampires were loners who didn’t want friends.”

“I’ve been a loner for three thousand years.” He lightly touched my sore cheek. “You may find it hard to believe, but I crave a normal life. I just don’t know what normal is anymore.”

Staring at the blood on his chin, I could see why.

Catching the direction of my gaze, Atticus abruptly wiped his mouth and chin with his sleeve. He stared at a smear of blood and lowered his arm, avoiding eye contact. Vampires did that to gain trust, but I had a feeling he was embarrassed about not looking like his clean and dapper self.

A visceral look briefly flashed across his face, and his fangs elongated. “You have no idea how it grieves me that men treat you so cruelly.”

“Then you and I have something in common. Thank you for the ice, Mr. Rain.”

“Call me Atticus.”

“I’ll address you informally once I trust you, and your observation was correct—I’ve never trusted Vampires. People are deceptively kind when they want something from you. I don’t want special treatment just because you’re afraid I might slander your club, so let me allay your concerns by giving you my word that I won’t. What happened tonight wasn’t your fault, but I still think that last incident could have been prevented.”

“What would you suggest I do differently?”

“You only have bouncers working during the busy hours. You can’t expect your servers to watch everyone when they’re filling orders and cleaning tables. Do better. A club like this demands it. And I’ll do better by not letting my emotions get out of control. I should’ve walked away, but I’ve been so hormonal lately that I’m not always thinking clearly. Maybe I should avoid clubs until after the baby comes.” I collected my thoughts and hoped that Virgil hadn’t caused further trouble. “Goodbye, Mr. Rain.”

With a swift movement, he bowed and pressed his forehead to the top of my hand. “Good evening, my lady.”