Planeswalker Page 2

  Vasily inclines his head. “It did. A fachan is a type of fairy, but . . .”

  “But?”

  Vasily’s mouth tightens. “As you know, our rules, the way it’s always been in Tara . . . we’re traditional.”

  “Barbaric,” I grumble.

  “Yes, it’s true. It wasn’t the way I ever intended for things to be, but my people have lived that way for hundreds of years.”

  Who am I to understand their ways? I lower my eyes, then close them.

  “Azotar didn’t resonate with being male or female. It was the first of our kind to dub itself as not belonging to one specific gender. We don’t even have a word for it, and most didn’t understand it.”

  I imagine our world a hundred years ago, nay, just ten years ago. Tolerant, we were not. And we aren’t even now, I remind myself, in many parts of the world.

  “It was before I was king.” His head wobbles. “Back when my father was the supreme ruler. His beliefs were antiquated even for Tara, while he, himself was . . . difficult. He convinced the people to go along with the banishment decree by playing on their fears.”

  So prejudice isn’t exclusively human. “Where did it go?”

  “To one of our sister realms, but it never fit in anywhere. As the decades grew, so did its anger and hatred of Tara.”

  My heart bursts at the injustices this creature has suffered. The loneliness and abandonment must have driven it mad. Vasily’s father created this problem, but it seems oddly shortsighted of him to think that letting Azotar return would be a simple process if nothing had changed in Tara since it left. “Why let it back in then?”

  He shakes his head, leveling his intense, dark eyes on me. His pupils narrow into slits. It’s disconcerting but at least I know why now. He’s a freaking fairy. “When Azotar was banished, I was the only one who fought for it to stay, so the king fashioned a special spell for me. If I were ever to let it back in, I would be the one who was banished. It was his safeguard against my bleeding heart.”

  My eyes squeeze shut and I rub the bridge of my nose. “So your father was an asshole?” I clamp my hand over my mouth as soon as I say it but it’s too late. Vasily’s mouth is set in a grim line, his eyes downcast and not meeting mine.

  He lets out a long breath. “My father ruled the way he was raised, steeped in the ways of old. He reigned over Tara with ruthless control for a hundred years.” The fairy king wrings his hands. “He became convinced that he was the only one who could properly rule, and though in actuality that was impossible, he believed it. And he went to ever harsher extremes to prove it.”

  Totalitarianism. Dictatorship. “He went mad?”

  Vasily inclines his head, once. “In a manner of speaking. He didn’t trust anyone else to do his job, nor me to inherit it.”

  “But he had no choice in the matter, right? He couldn’t live forever.”

  “I was never the son he imagined.” Vasily scrubs his hands over his face. “I was a disappointment and so he held on to his power for as long as he possibly could. He even went so far as to enact decrees and enchantments that would endure long past his death, ensuring he would be obeyed even from the grave.”

  My heart sits heavy in my chest, his words weighing it down like a bag full of rocks set to drown a bundle of kittens.

  “He taught me to be a ruler because he had no choice, but his ego and need for constant control overshadowed everything. I was benevolent and . . . he was not. He believed a kingdom should be ruled with an iron fist.”

  “And you believed it should be ruled with mutual respect and compassion,” I finish, because I know that much about him. He may put on a tough exterior, but it’s not a rough one. Vasily is the kind of person who’s learned to hide his emotions because he had to. People look to him for answers and he always has to appear strong. But inside he’s roiling with devotion so fierce that he’s willing to sacrifice himself in order to save his entire kingdom. The glacier I’d erected around my heart is little more than an ice cube now. “I’m so sorry I doubted you.” I throw my arms around him and he pulls me in, kissing my temples, my cheeks and my lips.

  Chapter Three

  When Vasily and I leave my room and return to the den, I’m disheartened to find it empty. We exchange looks and his hand drops to the small of my back. “Maybe they’re in the kitchen, preparing dinner.”

  I look at my watch. It’s six. Already?

  We make our way down the hallway and to the floating stairs that lead down from my wing into the atrium. Each wing is accessible through a separate staircase running up from each corner of the atrium. The wing I share with Candy is large but I’ve only seen my room and our shared living room. There are other bedroom suites I have yet to see. The spell room is in another wing that can be reached from the atrium down a long hallway running across the front of the house, though there are rooms beyond that too. I haven’t visited the men’s wing much, but it’s similar to ours.

  In the atrium, tall trees grow from the floor below, reaching to the glass ceiling like giants with their arms extended to brush the glass. The quiet pond in the middle burbles with a modern fountain at its center. Sunlight pours in through the skylight and floor-to-ceiling widows covering the front of the house.

  Vasily’s tried to recreate Tara in his house.

  Crossing the atrium, we enter the dining room and sure enough, the group is seated for dinner. Everyone except Jules and Arch. A deep knot twists in the bottom of my stomach.

  “Ah, the lovers.” Bodhi grins wide. “You forgot to invite me.” His soft blue eyes rake over me and I cross to hug him as he stands. “We love sharing you,” he whispers in my ear, his warm breath tickling the outer shell.

  Heat rushes to my face and I only hope my dark complexion masks it. I keep hold of Bodhi for a minute longer to cover my body’s betrayal. His slim yogi body presses solidly against mine. When he lets me go I pretend to finally notice who’s missing. “Where’s Jules? And Arch?”

  “He drove her back to her house. She had to get ready for work tonight,” says Forrest, his violet eyes finding mine. They are terribly arresting, and my breath catches. He smiles, pushing his long white hair out of his too-pale face. No, not too pale, I correct myself. Albino and absolutely perfect. His words finally penetrate. Weird, Jules didn’t tell me she was working tonight. That girl better not be hitting on any of the Stetler brothers, especially after I explicitly told her not to. Mine, all mine!

  Who’s being irrational now? But I can’t help the heat that travels through my core at the thought of anyone else hitting on my guys, especially Jules.

  Bodhi pulls out a chair and I sit. Candy and Sabin are across from me, cooing at each other. The table, as usual, is laden with food, all vegetarian since none of this crew eats meat. As elemental warlocks, they can’t even digest meat, and neither can Vasily. Vasily takes his seat at the head of the table and Bodhi piles salad, grilled portobello mushrooms and vegetable paella on my plate.

  The conversation is light. Cedar and Bodhi banter about decorating the atrium for Candy’s upcoming wedding. Forrest talks to me over the din, discussing his latest poetry piece. I suggest he read it aloud at a poetry gathering. He balks.

  Through it all, Vasily eats in silence, apparently caught in thought.

  After we’re done Candy and Sabin both clear the dishes. I offer to help but the silver-haired goddess throws me a smile.

  “It’s the least I can do after you saved my life and brought me the man of my dreams.” She drops a light kiss on my cheek and I’m surprised at the warm affection I feel for the girl.

  “When’s the wedding?”

  She giggles. “Tomorrow.”

  “Tomorrow?”

  “We have to get married immediately so I’m no longer Vasily’s servant. It was his idea.”

  “Who’s going to marry you?”

  “I am.” Bodhi comes up behind me, circling his arms around my waist. “I’m a justice of the peace.” He kisses my neck and I hold my b
reath to keep down the flutters pinging through my nerves.

  Chapter Four

  After dinner I retire to my room, hoping that Vasily, Bodhi or both will come up for a visit. I change into one of the several sexy nightgowns my men have hung in my closet. I choose the one with a matching lacey bra and thong. Then I stand in front of the full-length mirror and try to see what they do, but I can’t. It’s just me. Corkscrew, verging on frizzy hair. Walnut skin that looks harsh under the bright closet fluorescent light. Eyes a muddy yellow, like a feral cat. The slim build that I was teased about my entire life still refuses to melt into sexy curves or solidify into useful muscle. It’s not like I can run a block without leaning against a building to catch my breath. My phone buzzes, and dammit, as if I could forget my real-life problems for two minutes.

  “Hi, Mom!” I try to sound upbeat.

  “How’s our perfect daughter?” Both Mom’s and Dad’s voices bleat through the phone.

  “The more important question is, how are you two?” Deflection at its best.

  “We’re having so much fun it should be illegal,” Mom titters over the line.

  My heart soars. Finally. I fist pump the air, thankful we’re not on video chat.

  “But Amaya, what’s going on at home? We received a text from the Jacksons. They said there’s an eviction notice pinned to our front door.”

  Oh shit, shit, shit. “No. Yes. No. I’m handling it.”

  “Your father left a message on Bob’s voicemail but he hasn’t called us back. We were hoping to talk to you about this. Is Bob the one who posted the notice? Do we need to come home?” Her voice wavers and a wave of bile shoots into my parched mouth.

  “It’s all a misunderstanding. There’s no need to come home. It’s important for me to handle this on my own.” I swallow, the motion like shards of broken glass going down my throat.

  My mother makes the little clicking sound with her teeth that she reserves just for me. “Of course, darling. We trust you.”

  I let out the breath I’ve been holding.

  Do they know the full extent of my guilt? How I’ve struggled my entire life in order to give them even a tiny portion of what they’ve given me? I’ll never make up for it, though. After all, I ruined all their dreams the moment I was born.

  “All I want is for you too to enjoy yourselves. I’ve got this.” Except I’m about to lose your house and all your belongings, I keep slipping into a fairy land, and my life is constantly in danger. Oh, and I’m in an intimate relationship with several men.

  “We know you do,” she coos into the phone and Dad’s voice bleeds in next to hers.

  “We love you, pumpkin. Spread your gorgeous wings and fly. We believe in you.”

  My heart practically seizes in my chest. I want to be my own person and not so enmeshed in my parents’ lives but I’ve lived with them for my entire life. I’m a grown woman who still lives with her parents. The realization slams into me like the fachan’s monolith. No wonder the men see me as something that needs taking care of.

  There’s a quick knock on my bedroom door.

  “Come in,” I call out before I can think twice.

  “Is that Jules? Are you at home?” Mom asks.

  Bodhi cracks the door open and peeks his head in. I motion for him to enter. “No, I’m at the Stetlers’. My job here is early in the mornings so they have a room for me but before you say anything . . .”

  “Go on.” Dad has grabbed the phone from Mom.

  “It’s in a private wing and there’s another girl—woman in the wing with me.”

  Bodhi grins and sits down on the bed, cocking his head at the phone. I narrow my eyes and give him a quick headshake . . . which he interprets as me telling him to get naked? He lifts his T-shirt over his head, lying back on my comforter. I stifle a groan.

  Mom’s voice comes over the phone again. “Amaya, sweetheart, you’re a grown woman. You get to make your own choices and don’t have to explain them to us. All we care about is your happiness and your safety.”

  “Thank you, Mom. I am.” My throat tightens, pain cinching like a tourniquet. I hate lying to them and yet how can I not? They deserve to take this time for themselves. They deserve a good life. They do not deserve to worry about anything right now. This is their time, and dammit, I’m going to make sure they take it.

  Bodhi rubs my back and I sink into his hand.

  “Our contract is over in a few months.” Dad’s voice is weary, his reluctance to come home all too obvious.

  “Why don’t you extend it?” Who knows? Maybe with more time I can make them proud. Probably not.

  “It’s hard enough to be away from you for six months. I don’t think your mother can possibly handle an entire year.”

  Neither can I. I’m such a loser. Cut the cord, Amaya. No, no, not yet. “I’ll be fine. We can always Skype and maybe I can come visit.”

  “That would be great, sweetheart,” Mom says. “We really would love to stay here a little longer. We’re finally settling in and making friends.”

  “You can decide later. Just know that everything here is great.” I gnash my teeth on the lie, bitterness flooding my mouth.

  “We love you,” their voices chime over the phone together.

  “I love you too.”

  I put the phone down and look at Bodhi.

  “Sounds like they’re having a blast.” His hand circles my waist and I lie back against him, desperately wanting to shed my nightie for some skin-on-skin contact.

  “They are. They don’t want to come back and shouldn’t have to . . . but their house.”

  “We’ll move their belongings here. We have plenty of space. An entire wing that’s barely used. When they decide to return they can stay here too, until they figure out what they want to do.”

  I lay my head back against his shoulder and his hand moves up to my neck, stroking it. “How can I ever thank you all?” My throat is still scratchy, laced with the bitter residue of guilt. Looks like I’m past the point of what-ifs; three weeks is probably not enough time to find them a new place, even if I were flush with cash, which I’m not. But these guys have done far too much for me already and I’m determined to do what I can, not to burden them further.

  I’ve never been keen on using sex as a bargaining tool or a way to thank someone but why not? I love Bodhi. I want to please him. I want to be of service and feel needed. I lean forward and pull the nightgown over my head. He moans, his hands moving to stroke my breasts through the lacy bra. He pulls me back against his chest. I struggle for a minute but he holds me still.

  “This doesn’t have to go any further.” His voice is soft, fluttering against my earlobe. “But if you’ll let me, I’d like to pet you.” His fingertips skim down my arms and I tremble, goose bumps rising.

  “But I want to pleasure you.” My own voice is tiny and cracked. I almost don’t recognize it.

  “My turn first, okay, lover?”

  All I can do is nod, numbly, all words gone.

  The fingers on my arm move up and down, featherlight, until he clasps my wrists and brings my hands back to grip his hips. I move my own up and down his hips and outer thighs, over his cargo pants. He lays one hand flat on my stomach and the other gently pushes me forward to unhook my bra strap in the back, which he removes with finesse. His soft lips rain kisses down my back, his hands cupping my tits.

  I lean forward to give him more access and he takes it, kissing along the back of my neck and shoulders. The thumb and forefinger of each hand roll and twist my nipples, teasing them to attention. I groan and push my ass back into the bulge he cannot hide. One hand moves behind me and he slides it under my bum, patting my cunt in a quick, rapid motion.

  “No,” I cry.

  Instantly he stops everything and lets go of me. “I’m so sorry.” He tries to get up but I slam my body back into his chest.

  “Do not move,” I growl. He freezes and I suspect if he could force himself to stop breathing, he would.


  I slide away, flip around and straddle him. His eyes widen and he opens his mouth to speak but I put my finger over it to silence him. I grind against him. His hard-on is gone but that doesn’t stop me. I run my fingers down the side of his face and over his chest, leaning down to press my lips to his. His mouth opens, yielding to mine, and I push my tongue in to explore. Little sparks of pleasure course through my system and his dick responds under my groin. I buck my hips. He grabs my ass and pulls me closer.

  “Amaya,” he breathes into my mouth, “I’m in love with you. We all are.”

  I lean back, breaking the kiss. “What? The others have said that?”

  One lip quirks up in a seductive, playful grin. “They don’t have to. I know my brothers.”

  He winds a hand through the back of my hair and pulls me toward his mouth. We crash together, resuming the kiss, hot and wet. I skim my bare breasts up and down his chest and he fists my hair, turning my head to the side in order to deepen the kiss. My body quivers with need but I want this to be about his satisfaction, not mine, and I press into him, trying to get even closer.

  He lifts his head away. “Can I touch you?” he rumbles, sliding a hand between my legs before I can respond. His fingers slip under the thong and press against my hot center.

  “Oh baby, you’re drenched for me.” He nips my bud between two fingers and pinches, then releases, again and again and I groan, throwing my head back. I want him to fuck me but that’s not how this started.

  “I need you in my mouth.” My voice cracks.

  “And I need you in mine.” His own voice is deep and raspy. “Turn around and bring your gorgeous pussy up here where I can give you the attention you deserve.”

  My brain wars with me. This is not how I planned the seduction, not that I thought it out past wanting to please him. He cups my mound, physically guiding me into position and I finally acquiesce, turning around and focusing on his hard, throbbing bulge. Fine. Let him think this was his idea and play with my pussy. I’m the one who will make him come, even if he’s not expecting it.