Everything Carries Me to You (Axton and Leander Book 3) (26 page)

The fire was nearly dead. Dana looked haggard, like he too might soon smolder out, and Axton suspected he didn't look much better himself.

"Come run with me," Axton said suddenly.

Dana looked up warily. It was the first time Axton had offered.

"Let's visit Helen," Axton pressed. "Or find a waterfall, or chase bats. Anything but sitting here, talking about all the sadness we pool between us."

"Thought I was supposed to get drunk enough to have a different conversation with you," Dana said.

"Well, you've been staring at the fucking burned out fire and haven't had a goddamn drop in the past twenty minutes," Axton said, tossing his head and standing up, "so you're doing a shit job."

"You're such a sweet talker, sugar," Dana said. "How did I ever forget?"

"Maybe because we never spent long talking before," Axton said.

Dana grinned, pleased and easy, the kind of smile that made his eyes squint a little, the kind that had made Axton want to sink to his knees, when they'd first met.

"We were usually busy, if I recall."

"Tomcat," Axton said, dismissive. "Come on."

Dana hesitated, standing up but hanging back.

"I'm not sure I should," he said.

"Why not?" Axton asked. "Do you not feel strong enough to shift out? You look like you're healing pretty good."

Dana bowed his head.

"Don't wanna," he argued softly. "I still wanna take his head."

"You can't challenge Dru right now," Axton said. "Not tonight."

"But I want to," Dana said plaintively, raising his head again to look away, in the direction of the main drag. "Can't want nothing else when I'm like that. Like I said."

Axton stuck his hands in is back pockets, rocked onto his heels.

"You've never turned me down," he observed, "when I've asked you to run through the woods with me."

"It's hard for me to say no to you," Dana said. "Always has been."

"I got a boy with broken legs back in LA who I bet doesn't think so," Axton said, because he was never going to stop bringing it up, ever.

"Been a while," Dana said speculatively. "Probably healed up by now. Mostly."

"Is he?" Axton asked, looking up at the stars. "I hope so. I don't know how that works, for them. Not off the top of my head. The time it might take."

"Slow," Dana said. A beat, and then: "And it wasn't easy for me to do. I told you."

Axton scoffed.

"Easy enough," he said.

"Not really," Dana said. "It was hard. It was hard because I'm easy for you since always."

"Not my fault you're easy for your guys," Axton said.

"I'm not," Dana said.

"Is it a post facto thing?" Axton asked. "Fine. Easy for your exes, then."

"Ain't that," Dana said. "It's you."

"Right," Axton said. "Let's keep on pretending I'm special."

"Oh, Ax," Dana said, suddenly miserable again. "If you only knew."

"You had ample opportunity to explain anything you wanted tonight," Axton said. "I've had enough of talking." He started pacing around the remains of the fire.

"You're restless," Dana said.

"I don't like being on two legs this long," Axton said. "Not out here. Not when I'm still worried-" he stopped, bit his lip.

"Still worried for what?" Dana asked softly. "For me?"

"Dru's not going to let this go on forever," Axton said. "You have to stay alert. We can't let him strike before we're ready."

"Lord above," Dana said, throwing his arms out to the sky. "I don't want to stay alert. I want to get piss drunk and pass out."

"Look," Axton said sharply, "I'm guessing your dad wasn't exactly a soft man of letters, right? He was probably a badass, like you?"

"I should be honored to be half as bad as Daddy was," Dana said, nodding in agreement.

"And somehow Dru got him," Axton said, "and covered it up. So don't be cocky, just because you can take out weird killer cultists and whatever."

"Strength of the wolf is the pack," Dana said. "Couldn't ever have done it alone."

"And you don't have a crew here," Axton pressed, "so stay on your toes."

"I have you," Dana said.

Axton stopped pacing.

"I mean," he said, and he found nothing. "You do," he said finally.

Dana shrugged.

"It's enough."

"I've never killed anyone, Dana," Axton sighed. "I wouldn't be much use if it came to putting Dru down spontaneously. Formally, with ceremonial weight to it, with witnesses and when I'm riled up and my pride's on the line with my life--then I could do it.
Maybe
. Before then? I don't think so."

"Bullshit," Dana said. "You're alert and fast and protective as hell. I've seen you defend a kill or a den before--not to mention your man. You were pretty damn near ready to kill me then, and you'd defend me now, if you had to, if I was caught helpless."

Axton rubbed his brow.

"You really think so?" he asked heavily.

"Yeah," Dana said. "Even though I hurt you, even though I hurt you bad. You wouldn't want me to go out that way."

"Go to sleep, Dana," Axton said, sinking back onto the ground. It depressed him that his loyalties were so transparent. Jack had read him all wrong--he really
didn't
want Dana to die at Dru's hand. He would go out of his way to make sure Dana won the fight. "Or drink yourself to sleep, whichever."

"Not gonna join me?" Dana asked.

"I joined you enough," Axton said. "Sleep while I'm here to keep watch." And to prove that he was done, he changed shapes, right there in front of the dying fire, in full view. His gold eyes blinked up at Dana from out of his dark, lupine face.

"Fine," Dana said. "Fine."

Axton crossed one paw over the other, and settled down to soak in all the sounds and scent of the night, ears swiveling attentively.

Dana grumbled, and Dana drank, and eventually Dana muttered, "Fuuuck," and sprawled out to sleep.

Axton kept watch.

In the fullness of time, Leander was walking again.

Then he was jogging.

The sun was setting. Leander's office had big windows, perfect for watching showy Los Angeles sunsets. It was the smog that made the sunsets so spectacular; Leander knew that. But still. The colors made pollution seem very pretty, for just a moment.

"Yeah so I think it's time," New York said, over speakerphone.

Leander was still gazing out his window. Sunsets, LA had good sunsets. Terrible for stargazing, though. But some places had good stargazing. Like Montana. Montana was great for that. And other things. Other pretty things.

"Yo," New York said, when there was no answer, "are you jerking off at your desk? This is important."

"What?" Leander asked, surfacing from his reverie right before the brooding part really got underway.

"I said it's time," New York said. "I booked a guy. Private lessons."

"Time for what?" Leander asked.

"For you to start training again," New York said.

"What, so now you're a doctor?" Leander asked. "How do you know?"

"I asked my mom, obviously," New York said. "She's a doctor."

"She's not an orthopedic," Leander said.

"Look, your doc said it would be real soon, right? And I did not book a former mixed martial arts champion for you to just pussy out on me."

"Wait, what?" Leander said, sitting up and rumpling the papers on his desk. "I thought we agreed that sport fighting was out. We were going to focus on real world styles."

"Whatever," New York said. "You want to train with a super badass or not? He's got killer knife skills, too."

"Who is it?" Leander asked.

"I'm not telling," New York said smugly. "And if you look up who's in the area doing martial arts seminars in a month, that's cheating."

"I'll call my doctor," Leander said.

Hours later, Leander emerged from his office.

"Call my doctor," he said, pacing back and forth in front of Sarah's desk, "if you could, please. I have to get cleared so I can--and plane tickets; I need plane tickets. I'll call the doctor, and you book the--"

He looked up.

Sarah was blinking at him.

"What?" she said.

"You look exhausted," Leander said.

"I'm behind on this season's polish swatches," Sarah said, "for the blog. And I haven't even reviewed the new Grey Squonk Magical Apothecary scents."

"Wow, how long have you had that canned response ready?" Leander asked. "You sounded like a robot."

"A while," Sarah admitted, rubbing a hand--very carefully, so as to not smudge much make up--over her face. "It's true, though."

"I'm sorry," Leander said. "I've been running you ragged. What am I thinking? I'll get plane tickets."

"Grey Squonk discontinued your hair product," Sarah said.

"What?" Leander asked, momentarily distracted.

"The manly lavender and black pepper scent line," Sarah said. "They're getting rid of it."

"But it's part of the general catalogue," Leander said, pained.

"It happens," Sarah said. "Sorry."

Leander took a sharp breath.

"Okay," he said. "Okay." Ah, now he had a petty loss in life to compliment his serious ones.

Great. What a well-balanced plate of suffering, or something. Maybe he could pick out a good wine pairing.

"Deep breaths, boss," Sarah said. "You'll get through this."

"EBay?" Leander said hopefully.

"Are you assuming I checked for you?" Sarah asked.

"Yes," Leander said.

A tired smile flickered over her lips.

"I trawled the boards for you," she said. "Got a few backups. But you don't want to stock pile old hair products. Trust me, you don't want to go down that road."

"Maybe, like, a coffee based scent," Leander said. "Maybe one of those that they do." He had just started drinking coffee again, and he was really thrilled about it.

"Am I picking that out for you before or after I get you plane tickets?" Sarah asked, arching one perfectly shaped eyebrow.

"No, no," Leander said. "I'll get myself tickets. Do you want tomorrow off?"

"Not really," Sarah said. "I'll relax when this is all over."

Leander bit his bottom lip.

"Don't make pouty faces at me," Sarah said. "Where are you going?"

"New York," Leander said.

"Business or--?"

"The business of kicking ass," Leander said, and there was a ripple of excitement he couldn't quite suppress.

"Oh, you're cleared to train again?" Sarah asked, perking up. "Good for you!"

Leander coughed.

"Yeah," he tried.

Sarah tilted her head to the side, and then--

"Oh.
Oh
. That's what you have to call the doctor for? You haven't even gotten approval yet and you want plane tickets?"

"Yes?" Leander said.

"For fuck's sake," Sarah said, and she collapsed backwards in her chair. "Maybe I
will
take tomorrow off. And the entire time you're gone. So I can rest up for how you'll get all pissy when you can't walk, because you will have
broken your legs again
."

"Well," Leander tried, "I probably won't."

"At least go in to see the doctor first," Sarah said.

"That's not really--"

Sarah gave him a hard look.

"Yes ma'am," Leander said. "I'll go in."

Three weeks later, Leander was on a plane.

They were paired off in class and it was Leander's turn to have the gloves on.

"Wow, so a few months in a chair does turn you into a total pussy," New York said.

Leander nailed the pad New York was holding up
just
left of center, so that he had to duck out of the way of Leander's gloved fist.

"I'm just saying," New York went on, holding the long pads now. "Remember when I had a punctured lung? From the motorcycle accident? I could still kick things when I got out of the hospital."

Leander deliberately did the wrong kind of kick so that New York was too surprised to reconfigure his hold on the pads in time.

The next day they paired off for knife fighting, and New York wasn't talking any shit at all. He was just grinning.

Leander discreetly tripled checked that the training knives were made of rubber.

"I don't think this is necessary," he said. "I'm not going to get into a knife fight with the guy."

"Relax," New York soothed. "This is for fun. Have some fun, my friend."

"Fun," Leander echoed, dubiously. They were circling each other now. "Fun like that time we were supposed to be training and you
actually sliced me
with an
actual
knife?"

"It was just a tiny cut," New York said, "and it wasn't a really real knife."

After the weekend, they hung around in New York's apartment and did as little as possible. At one point Leander halfheartedly said something about going for a jog and New York muttered something defensive about rest days and maximizing muscle gains.

Relieved, Leander went and took a nap instead.

"I can't believe you vetoed the horror movie plan," New York complained, while they were out walking, casting about for something low energy to do.

"Whatever," Leander said. "I just said I didn't want to watch some shitty werewolf movie. We could watch the shitty ghost movie, I said."

"We could
not
," New York said.

"I can't believe you're still not over the bad trip you had in Savannah," Leander said.

"Fuck you," New York said. "That was not
a
bad trip, that was the worst trip ever, and, all tripping aside, that hotel was definitely haunted."

"All hotels in Savannah claim to be haunted," Leander said. "It's meaningless. It's marketing."

"Just because
you
slept through the horrible air conditioner screams," New York said, "does not mean that the room was not haunted as shit."

"I slept in your room after you asked," Leander reminded him. "It was fine."