Fetching Analia, Page 2

  The stance telegraphed trouble. Kellen grinned and said, “I thought you had your fire under control now that you and Saffron are together.”

  “My fire isn’t a problem. It’s extinguished in the bedroom. Or on the couch. Or the kitchen table. Or—”

  “I get it.” Kellen held up a hand to halt the images of a lovesick dragon pinning his mate against all available surfaces. “Your fire is anywhere Saffron is.”

  “Exactly,” Taine purred, braking to a gentle stop despite the aggravation and delay caused by the unicorns.

  Kellen got out of the truck, hesitated at having Maksim’s scowl directed at him. “Taine and I’ll deal with this,” their boss said. “You’ve got company inside.” Company that had obviously rubbed Maksim the wrong way.

  “Fuck,” Kellen muttered, gut knotting in anticipation of an audience with his sire and dam, because that’s what this had to be. “Both of them? Or only one?”

  “Just him. And if he manages to somehow bring you around to his way of thinking, the answer is still no. IRE isn’t here so potential mates can work together until they say the magic words and bond.” He turned the scowl on Taine. “Saffron was the exception. The only exception.”

  “Where is he?” Kellen asked.

  Some of the scowl dissipated. “PIT-A.” A nicely furnished room set aside for dealing with higher-ups and the politically connected who were always Pains In The Asses.

  Kellen headed for the door, determined to make the conversation with his sire quick. No fucking way was he taking any mate, much less one picked out for him.

  Long strides took him down the hallway. The door to PIT-A was open and his sire stood at the window, dressed in a five-thousand-dollar human suit. He flicked a wrist, glanced down at a watch that’d probably cost more than the suit and that was totally unnecessary given a hound’s acute awareness of the sun’s, and the moon’s, position in the sky.

  Turning to face Kellen, he said, “How much longer do you intend to amuse yourself playing supernatural policeman in this magic-poor world?”

  “Another couple of centuries should do it. Then again, I enjoy the work and the company, so I may never stop.” Rather than enter the room, Kellen leaned against the doorframe. “You’ve wasted your time, and your magic, coming here.”

  “That’s for me to decide.”

  Kellen shrugged. “Your call since you rule the hounds. How’s that going for you and your mate?”

  Fury flashed in his sire’s eyes before it was quickly suppressed. In their world, the fertility of the realm was tied to the alpha pair, and this man who’d never been a father to him had sired only two pups.

  That one of those pups, him, had been born with a withered, useless forearm…

  Kellen’s smile was a baring of teeth. With his birth, there might as well have been a neon sign at the castle gates announcing the weakening of the realm’s magic. He’d been allowed to live only on the advice of a court advisor.

  “Are we done here?” Kellen asked, impatient to get away from his sire and to get to Stones for some comradery with fellow agents followed by the mindless oblivion of sex with human females.

  “Your mother and I have determined that Deidra is a superior match for you. We’ve formed an alliance with her pack.”

  Contingent of course, on a mating, though his sire didn’t say those words.

  Kellen bit off a retort at labeling the female who’d given birth, then cast him away until it became advantageous, as a mother. All she cared about was maintaining her status as alpha bitch.

  Both his sire and his dam had somehow managed to delude themselves into believing that the big show of acknowledging him as a beloved son later—after his own will to live and physical prowess had ultimately brought him enough magic to heal his arm—had somehow erased their earlier treatment.

  “Not interested in Deidra. And no match holds any advantages from where I’m standing.”

  His sire flicked at imaginary lint—or maybe a stray dog hair that’d dared to land on a sharply creased trouser leg. “You have a duty to the pack.”

  “The same pack that said nothing when I was forced to hunt alone as soon as I was weaned? The same pack that was content to allow nature to take its course if I didn’t manage to survive on berries and mice, if I was lucky enough to find either?”

  “If not the pack, then a duty to your bloodline.”

  “That duty doesn’t exist. It was cancelled at my birth.”

  A muscle spasmed in his sire’s cheek at being reminded of the unpredictable nature of the future. But the truth was, given the same set of circumstances—presented a spare heir deemed a weak, crippled runt—his sire would make the same choice, never imagining that there would be no additional pups or that his firstborn son might be killed during a boar hunt.

  “You’re my acknowledged heir.”

  Kellen didn’t bother with another jab, that with his sire’s virility in question, not only was his status as the alpha of the ruling pack a continued power struggle, but that lesser packs were no doubt forming alliances and considering a challenge.

  “Your mother and I are prepared to reward you for taking Deidra as a mate.”

  “Not interested. Like I said, you’ve wasted your time and magic coming here. Don’t bother coming back or telling yourself that my answer will change. I’m not taking a mate, either a true mate or someone advantageous who is willing to pop out offspring for the cause. Which isn’t to say there aren’t women I intend to fuck. There’s a whole club full of them waiting for me to decide who gets lucky. And I intend to spread that luck around tonight.” He pushed away from the doorframe. “I trust I won’t see you again anytime soon. And if Deidra is in this world, tell her not to bother looking for me.”

  Chapter 2

  Analia traced the fabric outline of a patchwork blue-and-yellow chicken with one finger. It was in the center of a white quilt block edged with blue.

  Each block in the quilt had a similar image, though the color combinations varied on individual chickens. Some were blue and green, some blue and orange, some blue and red.

  “This is super nice work,” she said to the man standing next her, who despite being older than her twenty-six, seemed easily half her age.

  Stefan smiled big at the compliment. He puffed out his chest and stood a little taller. And that made Analia feel good.

  This work placement was perfect for Stefan. He was going to thrive at the Artist’s Loft.

  She’d been optimistic, because it’d worked out for a number of other Down Syndrome clients, but there were no guarantees. There was no one solution fits everyone either for typicals, a word she preferred over normal, or those with mental or physical challenges.

  “I love the chickens,” she said. “Just seeing them makes me smile.”

  “Me too!” He smoothed a hand over the quilt. “Janie showed me how to use patterns to cut different pieces. Then Walter and me put the pieces together to make the chickens. I even sewed some of them together. And I sewed the edges on some of the squares. And then I sewed some of the squares together, though mostly it was Janie and Walter.”

  “Well, all three of you created a beautiful quilt.”

  “Ms. Carly says that next week the quilt will be finished. Then it will go on sale in the shop.”

  Analia glanced over her shoulder at the retail space. It was filled with quilts as well as artwork and crafts, including pottery and jewelry, created by local artists who’d joined forces to open the Artist’s Loft so they had a place to show and sell their work.

  “I bet this quilt isn’t in the shop very long before someone buys it,” Analia said, though it was equally likely it’d get snapped up by someone shopping online.

  “Ms. Carly says I’ll get to help choose what kind of quilt we work on next.”

  “Do you have any ideas?”

  “Cows!” he said, his enthusiasm making her smile.

  “Black-and-white cows? Or colorful cows, like the chickens?”
<
br />   Stefan’s eyebrows drew together as he gave the question serious thought. “Black-and-white. But maybe colors if that’s what the others want. Just so long as they pick cows.”

  “That sounds like a good compromise, let them choose what kind of cows if that means you get their votes.”

  He grinned and patted the quilt in front of them. “Maybe whoever buys this quilt will want one with cows.”

  “There’s a good chance of it. Maybe they’ll want a whole collection of quilts with farm animals.”

  Stefan’s eyes lit up. “We could do quilts with goats and pigs and horses.”

  “I think you’re on to something,” Analia said with a smile. “And now I’ve got to get going, but I’ll check in on you again. I can hardly wait to see the next quilt.”

  He surprised her with a hug. “Thanks Miss A, for finding me this job.”

  She returned the hug, warmth blossoming in her chest. “I found it, but you’re the one who interviewed and got the job, Stefan. You’re here because of you.”

  His arms tightened, and then he released her. “Bye, Miss A.”

  “Bye, I’ll see you again soon.”

  She left the work area, intending to head straight for the exit, but a pair of earrings caught her attention. They were pewter doves with separate, smaller peace symbols dangling in front of the dove bodies.

  “Those were made by a fifteen-year-old artist who’s being homeschooled,” an older woman who Analia recognized as a local potter and cooperative member said from behind the register.

  Analia couldn’t resist. She snagged the earrings.

  The woman smiled and said, “I can’t resist either. Every time I come to the Loft, I check to see what new piece of jewelry Elisa’s created.”

  Analia paid and left the store. Within steps the sense of happiness and satisfaction was replaced by the prickly sensation of being watched.

  Her heart sped, thumping harder though there was no one between her and her car, which was parked along the curb.

  She looked across the street. An old, homeless man pushed a cart piled high with belongings. He was talking to himself, seemingly obvious to anything around him.

  She glanced behind her. A blond woman was crossing at the light, her attention focused on her cellphone.

  At a corner past the woman, three men huddled, possibly trying to agree on directions or a destination. They looked like grandfather, father and son.

  Analia rubbed her hands over her arms in an attempt to smooth away the prickly sensation on her skin. She looked upward and saw curtains fluttering in several open windows.

  Maybe someone had been watching her, though probably not her in particular. Still…

  She didn’t slow her steps, and it wasn’t until she was in her car that the prickling sensation was truly gone.

  “Weird.” She’d never experienced anything like that when she’d visited the Artist’s Loft.

  Analia shook it off and didn’t give it another thought until she stepped into her second-floor apartment. A chill swept over her despite the warm breeze coming in through an open window.

  She came to an abrupt halt. Someone had been there. Someone might still be there. The sense of it was overwhelming.

  Her pulse quickened. Her gaze darted around the small studio apartment, drilled into the space beneath the bed, though it’d be a tight squeeze, then flew to the bathroom doorway.

  She inched forward and sideways, stood on tiptoes, glad she’d left the shower curtain, with its seascape picture, pulled aside. There was no intruder hiding in the bathtub.

  And there was no way that someone could have been watching her from an upstairs window near the Artist’s Loft and at the same time be lying in wait for her at her apartment.

  She’d obviously been reading way too many thrillers, because seriously, who’d be watching her?

  Analia closed the door and moved deeper into the apartment. Her hand went to the charm bracelet on her wrist. She stroked the dolphin-shaped protection charm she’d had since she was a kid, given to her by Sabra, a friend she still got together with as often as possible. And if the dolphin wasn’t protection enough, she had even more charms in her dresser drawer and a few fetishes scattered throughout the apartment.

  Reaching the coffee table, Analia dropped her purse. And though she’d convinced herself that her imagination had just gotten the better of her after she’d managed to give herself a scare outside of the Artist’s Loft, she couldn’t stop herself from going to her dresser and opening her jewelry drawer—though maybe charm drawer would be a better description.

  The drawer was packed with charms, but she could remember where each and every one of them had come from. Some were carved out of wood, some out of bone. Some took the form of crystals or polished stone or forged metal. Some were delicately engraved, while others were crudely worked.

  She couldn’t resist them. She was in fact, crazy about charms and had been since she was a kid.

  “Some people have a lucky coin or a lucky hat, I’ve got charms.”

  She laughed out loud when she thought about just how close she’d come to whipping out her credit card at the All Things Supernatural Fair and buying a charm meant to bring a supernatural lover into her life—no, not just a lover, a mate.

  That had been a colossal moment of weakness brought on by the previous night’s date. Ugh!

  According to the dating app she’d given a try, Mitch was supposed to be the perfect match. And he would have been, if she’d been a mirror so he could spend all his time looking and thinking about himself.

  She shook her head, laughed for a second time at remembering her best friend Saffron’s reaction to the price tag for the charm. It’d been a thousand dollars.

  You’re not wasting your money on that charm. Not on my watch!

  Saffron hadn’t said the words out loud, but she hadn’t needed to. They’d been friends long enough to know what each other was thinking. Instead she’d said, “You’re smart, gorgeous and fun to be with. You don’t need to lay down that kind of cash to meet someone special. It’ll happen. It. Will. Happen. Believe it.”

  “I’m trying to believe it,” Analia murmured, heart lifting as her gaze moved to the charm bracelet on her wrist and the translucent green apple that seemed to glow as it caught the early evening sunlight streaming in through the window. She’d gotten it at the All Things Supernatural Fair and it’d come with a prophecy and a warning.

  Her cell rang, sending her back to the coffee table. She dug her phone out of her purse and smiled at seeing Sabra’s name.

  “I was just thinking about you and Saffron,” Analia said by way of answering. “What’s up?” Because something had to be for Sabra to call instead of text.

  “Come out and play tonight. Ace and I are hitting Stones. There’s a hot DJ he wants to watch.”

  “Just watch? Don’t you mean, get into the guy’s pants?”

  “They’re not mutually exclusive.”

  Analia snorted out a laugh. Since Ace went both ways, there was a lot of truth in that statement. It was too easy to imagine him enjoying watching the action before joining the action.

  “Please, pretty please, come out and play, Lia,” Sabra said.

  Analia huffed out a dramatic sigh, “Okay. Against my better judgment, I’ll come out to play with you two troublemakers.”

  Sabra laughed. “So now you’re maligning my character?”

  “Maligning?”

  “My word for the day. How soon can you get to the club?”

  “I just need to change clothes.”

  “Okay, see you soon. I’ve got a good feeling about tonight. One of us, maybe all three of us, is going to get lucky!”

  Analia dropped her phone back into her purse and returned to the dresser. Her gaze roamed over the charms as she tried to decide if she wanted to add one of them to the bracelet she was never without.

  She grinned, the thousand-dollar charm to attract a supernatural mate would have come in han
dy tonight. Not that she was absolutely certain supernatural beings existed at all, though there’d been more and more strange things happening of late—including today’s sighting of unicorns—so maybe, just maybe the supernatural extended to supernatural mates.

  And if any place in San Diego was a supernatural hangout, it’d be Stones. The couple of times she’d gone to the club, there’d been plenty of men with supernaturally good looks—and every one of them had boasted the it factor.

  “Maybe a supernatural mate really is a possibility,” she murmured, not totally believing it. But still…

  Unicorns!

  It had been all over the news, though she’d only heard about it on the radio as she’d been driving out to see Stefan at the Artist’s Loft.

  The radio talk shows and news reporters had paraded out a host of experts, including veterinarians and zoo keepers, psychics and scientists, anyone willing to opine as to whether the unicorns were real or a well-done hoax.

  Her money was on real. Because if they weren’t real, then why had Supernatural Ops been called in to capture the unicorns?

  Thoughts of Supernatural Ops, the very secretive division of Homeland Security, had her contemplating a call to her best friend, Saffron, who just happened to have permanently hooked up with a Supernatural Ops honey.

  Analia decided against the call. Sabra had probably already squeezed Saffron for info; one of the benefits of being Saffron’s twin, though the sisters didn’t look alike.

  Analia changed into skinny jeans and a light green short-sleeved top that didn’t hug her curves, but was soft and wispy and always made her feel feminine.

  She decided on flats since the club was along the beach, and there was always the chance she’d meet someone interesting and they’d take a moonlit stroll.

  Yeah, she was a hopeless romantic, always had been.

  She chose a pair of earrings, delicate silver flowers dangling from French wires, that also supposedly brought clarity of thought and wisdom, always a good thing when alcohol was involved.

  The uneasy sense she’d experienced when she opened her apartment door returned as she slipped the earrings on, that someone had been in her apartment, and more specifically had been pawing through her charms. It took her a few seconds to realize why, the tree-shaped charm that had come with the green, apple-shaped crystal charm that was on her bracelet was missing.