Loving Ean (The Fae Guard Book 2) (23 page)

“We’ll fill the council in tomorrow and then we are going back to spend some more time with Shaylee’s family for a few weeks. I suggest you each meet with Fate and see if this, as little as it is, helps to clear away some of the muck,” he says.

Aden lifts his head, his green pools once again fixed on me and I wait for him to vocalize whatever it is he’s chewing over in his mind. “Ean, let’s talk in the den.” If I didn’t understand the seriousness of the situation, I would think the ominousness of his tone was a little theatrical. Aden is a subtle, laid back (well, unless it concerns Shaylee) guy, and he wouldn’t be messing around in such a serious situation. I follow him into the room where we’d hung out for Brannon’s party. I’m flooded with memories of that night, of following Laila out, and fucking her in the room around the corner. I shove them away as hard as I can; thinking about Laila’s naked body while in this room talking with her brother is twisted.

Aden leans against the wall to the left of the door, runs both hands through his hair, and sighs. I swear, he looks ready to drop. “You need to take your girl home and get some rest, man. Get it while you can because, soon, you’ll be awake for like eighteen years.” My ploy to lighten the mood obviously works because Aden chuckles.

The tension is less thick, but Aden’s face goes serious, “Do you know of a Fallen named, Aodhagan?”

I wasn’t expecting a question like this, but he has definitely peaked my curiosity. “No. Should I?”

Aden’s shoulders lift in a small shrug. “When we were dealing with Killian, this guy showed up. He was in pursuit of Killian because apparently the Fallen council was pretty fed up with his antics. Anyway, we were . . . reluctant to let him take Killian and for whatever reason, he backed off.” Aden rubs his chin, his eyes looking nowhere, lost in thought. He shakes his head and his brow furrows, “There was something about him, Ean. I just couldn’t place it, and it’s annoying the fuck out of me.”

“What did he look like?” This question is a little bit off the wall for us; it’s hard to distinguish people who all have the same skin, hair, and eye color. I’m hoping there was something unique about him that would cause him to be familiar to Aden, or possibly resurrect a memory of someone with his description that I may have forgotten meeting.

One corner of Aden’s mouth lifts in a wry smile, “Shaylee thought he looked like a Harry Potter character.” This makes me smile too. Shaylee’s likes to compare our world with fictional books and movies, and sometimes, her off-the-wall humor makes the comparisons pretty entertaining. She’s particularly fond of Harry Potter references . . . I’m sure you can see where she gets her material.

“He had long, black hair that came to a deep widow’s peak on forehead. His face is long, with an elongated nose, kind of narrow eyes, and thin lips. He looked, and sounded, blue-blooded, like he was from the Elizabethan era. I’m pretty sure he even had a mild accent.”

I can see how Aden felt the man was familiar, his description is niggling at me as well, but I can’t pin point what it is. “I don’t know. I don’t think I’ve ever met him, and I can’t figure how I would know him.”

“The thing is,” Aden hesitates, as if he doesn’t want to tell me, “he told me to tell you that he’s looking forward to meeting you.”

That stops me up short. “He what?”

Aden nods. “He said it as though it was inevitable. And, I’ve got to tell you, man; this guy’s creepy factor registers high on the scale, but he also seems incredibly dangerous. From the way he was talking, I got the impression that he works directly with their council. And you know how different they are from us, their council is practically royalty.”

I’m still stuck on how the hell this guy knows who I am, but I’m also absorbing everything Aden says. When he pauses, I realize that he is most likely waiting for a response from me. I really don’t have one. This is a stretch of road that I wasn’t expecting, and I can’t figure out where it leads.

“I just think you need to be extra careful, and really watch your back. He was deceptively civil, and I’m willing to bet he fools a lot of people. But the evil in this guy runs so deep that I felt like his eyes were direct windows to Hell.”

Aden’s warning resonates with me and I assure him that I’ll be vigilant, then we grab hands, tug each other in, and with a slap on the back, we let go. “Hey,” I call, stopping Aden before he’s gone, “I’m really glad you guys are back and Shaylee is safe. She’s fun to have around and, since you’re attached to her, we were worried about you both.” Aden gives me a half smile and a chin lift (Yes, we do this a lot, we’re guys) and leaves.

I stay behind to take a few minutes and process this information. I can hear everyone pass by the room as they leave the kitchen, heading for the front of the house. When the door shuts and doesn’t open again, I figure it’s just Brannon and me, so I wait, knowing he’ll join me. I listen to his footsteps come down the hall, then his head pops through the door. “Come to the kitchen so I can get a beer, dude. I need a break from reality, and I’m pretty sure you do too. So, we’ll get the serious shit out of the way during the first bottle. Then, I’ll kick your ass at the video game we never finished as we slowly get drunk, until we fucking pass out.” With that, his head disappears. I burst into laughter as I follow behind him and damn, does it ever feel good. He grabs two longneck bottles from the fridge, and tosses one to me. I pop the top and spend the next half hour filling him in on what Aden and I talked about, as we work our way through drink number one.

An hour into the video game, we are well into drink number four, and I’m feeling much better about the whole situation. Honestly, Brannon and I hold our liquor pretty damn well, so we’re chilling with a pleasant buzz, letting the stress and worries be washed away.

At some point, who the hell knows what time it is, we call it a night. I pick up the empty bottles and trek into the kitchen to dispose of them. Brannon follows me and sets about putting away the crap we were munching on. “How is it going, living across the hall from Laila?” His question startles me, as I wasn’t expecting it. He’s leaning back against a counter, his hands grasping the edges behind him, bare feet crossed at the ankle, and his probing gaze examining me. He’s gone into serious territory and I don’t think my brain is in any condition to join him there. Unfortunately, that single question brings back all the shit I was suppressing with the alcohol. I start thinking of all the times I see her in the hallway, and how much I fucking miss her.

“About like you’d expect, I’m sure. It’s fucking torture, but I’m trying to take it like a man, considering I deserve no less.”

Brannon pushes away from the counter and rolls his eyes, and he starts down the hall to his bedroom. I follow him, suddenly feeling every tired muscle in my body straining to work. As we pass by the room I’d been in with Laila, my chest burns, and I quicken my step to reach a room two doors down. Brannon keeps walking until he reaches the door to the master bedroom at the end of the hallway. He stops and turns around, “Ean, you can believe whatever you want about what you deserve or thinks she deserves, but staying there and being forced to be around each other so much isn’t something you’ve earned.”

I don’t respond, I have nothing to say and I sense he isn’t done.

“Whatever, man. My point is that she doesn’t need this torment either.” Brannon runs a tired hand through his messy hair and sighs, “Look, what I’m trying to say is, you can move in here, if you want. I’ve got plenty of room and it will give me the opportunity to wipe the floor with you on a regular basis, because, I gotta say, you suck at that game.”

A laugh bubbles up and the sound is almost foreign to me. I wasn’t sure I knew how to laugh anymore. It feels good. “I think you’re right, but I should maybe make that decision when I’m not saturated with so much alcohol.”

“Fair enough.” Brannon chuckles. He reaches out and we bump fists, opening our palms as we retreat in a little explosion. “You’re such a damn nerd.” He hastily ducks into his room before I can find anything to chuck at him.

My friends are such assholes. I don’t know what the fuck I would do without them. When I finally lie down, the buzz has faded almost completely and I heave a defeated breath as I prepare for another night of tossing and turning, while I dream about my g—Laila.

FATE HANDS ME A
cup of coffee and we wander into a back room in her house. A room not many people see, considering it has no décor scheme, over stuffed, well-loved furniture, and a huge collection of books. It’s a place where she doesn’t have to be “on.” She is comfortable and can relax in a place that is simply hers, and she doesn’t share it with many.

The girls will be here for our monthly get together soon, so I’m taking the opportunity to have a chat alone with Fate. “How was the wedding?” I guess we are starting with small talk.

“It was beautiful, and a lot of fun.” Aden and Shaylee had been married in New York City a week ago and it had been a huge event. “I don’t particularly look forward to ever doing that again though. Having so much of our family in one place, and in the human realm, no less—what a spectacle.” I don’t even want to speculate on the impression left on the humans there. I mean, really, as if we don’t already stand out, but to have a huge group like that all at once? Perhaps they thought it was some kind of Legolas convention.

At the same time, having all of my family around made me a little sad for Shaylee. Her mother, Violet, was the main reason for having the ceremony in New York. Violet had decided to remain in the human realm, which meant that eventually she would die. While I knew it tore her apart, Shaylee accepted her mother’s decision because she understood it. Violet had already aged to the point that without her husband, she would have felt out of place here. More so than that, however, was her desire to be reunited with her husband; she didn’t want to live an eternity without him. There is wisdom and great love in her choice and I couldn’t blame her.

Anyway, I’m not here to talk about the wedding or any other topics, I want to get to the point. “Why is the connection still there, Fate?” There is censure in my tone and I mentally wince, realizing that I may have overstepped my bounds. We are friends, but she is still Fate and there will always be a line that I shouldn’t cross.

She eyes me over her coffee cup as she takes a sip and I feel like I’ve been sent to the principal’s office. She doesn’t address my attitude, but as laid back as she seems, I know there was a warning in that look, one that said she’d let it go this time. “It’s not the right time to sever the connection between you and Ean yet, Laila. Trust me; I want you both to move on as much as you do. Your awkward and painful emotions toward each other are like a country song on repeat, and it’s making me long for another genre, even if it is sappy love songs.” She elicits a disgusted shiver and I want to roll my eyes at her exaggerated comparison. Especially because country music is a human creation. For one thing, their angst is often caused by some kind of dishonesty, and for another, we don’t really have distinctions like that, based on our location within our realm. With the exception of the half, who were raised in different regions of the human realm, our dialects and lifestyles are pretty much the same, no matter which city or rural area that you are in. Her comment about love songs is far from shocking. It never ceases to befuddle me how someone who deals with soulmates and love, so consistently, can take such a negative position on it. I’ve wanted to ask, but with the exception of her telling comments, it is clear the subject is not up for discussion.

I set my coffee cup down on the skinny, round table next to my chair and clench my hands in my lap. It takes a tremendous amount of energy not to give in to the impulse to start yelling and demanding answers. It’s been over two months since I was last with Ean and I just want the heartache to go away.

“I can’t explore other relationships if my soul is still tied to him. You told me yourself that I would meet another who would end up fated with me. I know it may take years, centuries, whatever, to find the right man, the one whose soul fits with mine. You can’t just go to Fated.com and order the right man. I get that. But, how am I even supposed to start looking if I can’t get over Ean?” I’m desperate and I know she can hear it in my voice.