Where Wild Things Roam

Fae Gemini

Sean

“Luna?”

“I’ve no desire to talk to you, Second triumvir.”

Darby sneers the title and I sigh, trailing after her and Tessa behind the packhouse and out to the survey markers where the new addition made of more faery-friendly materials will be.

It’s been nearly three weeks since Ivan and his family left for Desert pack and I assumed his role here at Candlewood. In every other aspect, this is pretty great. But Darby’s seething resentment is wearing on me in ways I didn’t expect it would, both as the triumvir and as her mate, which I’m certain now I am—her superbloom scent is intoxicating anytime I’m around her. I’m tired of my apologies falling on deaf ears, of her cruel avoidance.

“It’s Sean. And yeah, you’ve made that clear.”

That draws her up short and she advances towards me. She was in a mood before I got here, and I groan inwardly realizing my latest attempt to reconcile with her has merely given her a reason to use me for target practice.

“Then why do you persist?” Darby snaps, mere inches away and I lean back, trying to dilute the aggression. “You used me. Then you manipulated your way into this pack. The least you can do is not rub my face into it.”

She pivots smartly to walk away. Desperate, I make a grab for her wrist, my fingers sliding through nothingness as she melts into her airy sylphide form. It’s one of her favorite moves and frankly, it’s infuriatingly uncooperative. Today, I’ve had enough.

“Don’t walk away, Luna. You asked me for an alliance. You set the terms—I kill the witch and the vampire behind Ivan’s curse. And that’s what I’m doing. This was the simplest and safest way.”

I’m surprised when she turns—it’s the farthest I’ve ever gotten towards addressing this situation with her.

“I can quite assure you using me was not safe.” Her normally smooth voice rustles, like wind through the forest trees. “I wonder what your alpha would have to say about what you’ve done, Second triumvir.”

“You may not like it, Luna, but alphas make the tough choices. You and I both know Ian isn’t going to change his mind about this one, whether you tell him you removed my family’s curse or not. Mine didn’t pose any risk to you—it wouldn’t, even if I were still carrying it. That’s not the case with Ivan’s. I’d send my own family away to protect you too. Ian isn’t any different.”

My hair blows backward with a whoosh, my eyes snapping closed reflexively, protecting them from flying debris. When I open them, Darby’s materialized directly in front of me and great goddess, she smells so good.

Her golden-green eyes flash and her infinitely kissable pout is pulled tight and quivers with rage. Tiny hairs all over my body rise as if drawn magnetically and she gives off the faintest hum, like high voltage electricity through a capacitor.

Poking me hard in the chest with one spidery finger, she hisses, “Ian’s nothing like you.”

I roll my eyes, watching as Darby storms off, Tessa at heel.

 I resist the urge to strangle something.

Needing something else to think about, I open a link. Ian?>

Ian chuckles through the pack link.

**

Darby    

I snarl at myself, stooping to pick up the filthy slobbery ball Tessa has dropped at my feet. Tossing it ahead of us, I storm along after her towards the plaza and Darla and Joe’s where Ian and I are having lunch before meeting with the contractors doing the groundbreaking on the packhouse addition.

Why can’t he just leave me alone? He got what he wanted. He can’t really expect I’d actually like him for it. I stop, stooping again for the ball, this time tossing it a slightly different direction.

I suppose I might have liked him for it under different circumstances. His perseverance is quite the compliment. In stark contrast to Ian, whose typical apologies are immediate and verbal upon his realizing his mistakes, Sean takes a quiet approach. Though he never actually admits his errors in words, he’s obviously contrite.

He agonizes over my lack of forgiveness—those gripping golden eyes of his following me everywhere and staring at me like a sad puppy, the way he finger combs his wavy blonde hair in pained frustration at my avoidance, the thousand tiny little things he takes care of for me, like brining me another glass of juice when mine is nearly empty without me asking or making certain it’s quiet around me while I read through the texts available in the pack’s library.

Stepping on Tessa’s ball, I nearly fall, then huff at her impatiently. “Carefully, please. Can’t you see I’m distracted?”

Tessa’s chocolate brown eyes fill with disappointment.

“Oh my word. Don’t do that to me. You’re right, of course. Come here.” I stoop, looking deeply into her doting eyes. “I’m sorry. Here,” I snatch the ball from the ground, throwing it ahead of us again.

Rising, I continue towards the plaza. You’re letting physical attraction make a fool of you, I tell myself. Of course he’s attractive. He’s a were. Ferocious physical attraction is part of the package. Moping about doesn’t mean he’s genuinely remorseful—it just means he knows how to use the appearance to manipulate people. People like you who’ve already fallen for it especially. Besides, Sean dulls in comparison to Ian.

Tessa has returned with the ball. It drops with a nasty, squelching noise at my feet, so wet it doesn’t even roll any longer. I look at it with the same disgust I might have after stepping in melted chewing gum. “Bring it along, Tessa. We’re crossing here.”

I look both directions, then hurry across the unbusy street to the plaza park with Tessa trotting along beside me.

“It’s become rather mucky, Tessa. I’m not certain if they’ll play, but you may ask. If they do, stay where I can see you at Darla and Joe’s, please.”

Ian’s waiting at an outdoor bistro table in the shade but rises as he sees me approaching. His navy-blue suit brings out the color of his deep blue eyes and the way he smiles down at me when I tip my face up for a kiss makes me melt into him.

“Hello, my beautiful mate,” he whispers, releasing my lips. Pulling out my chair for me, he runs his hand across my bottom as I sit and gives a deep, appreciative sigh. “Tessa’s given up on us?”

“Of course not. She’s waiting for the food to arrive.”

We both glance up at the rising sounds of laughing children and see an entire pack of them chasing about after Tessa. She shakes the ball in her mouth in a prancing canter, then drops it at the foot of the nearest excited child.

“I could hear that splat from here.” Ian’s lip curls and he looks slightly ill. “And on the grass.”

“That ball is repulsive. I’ll have to wash it if she’ll ever give it up.”

“Darby,” Ian chuckles, covering my hand with his on the small table. “There’s probably a hundred of them laying around at the packhouse. Just get her a new one.”

I lean towards him, and Ian gives me an obliging kiss, his brows rising when I flick my tongue against his lips at the end of it. “You misunderstand, my big handsome wolf. I don’t want a hundred filthy revolting toys dropped in my lap to play. Just one clean one.”

We’re forced apart as Joe arrives beside the table. “Luna, Alpha.” Joe smiles, setting a tiny vase between Ian and me, with a small cluster of the bell-shaped flowers I gave to the pack in it, then a glass of iced juice before me and an iced tea before Ian.

“What’s this for?” I ask, tapping the vase as Joe sets out napkins and then plastic flatware on top of them.

“What? The Luna lilies?”

“Luna lilies?”

“Well, I guess that might not be what they’re called, but that’s what Darla calls them,” Joe explains. “She loves them, Luna. She’s cultivating them in our yard, growing them in pots in the house and here in the store. Even if you hadn’t stolen this big softie’s heart,” he gestures at Ian with a thumb, “she’d have made you Luna just for the flowers. Your food will be right out.”

I lean across the table to Ian again as soon as we’re alone, my chin raised and my eyes on his lips. “’Softie’, he called you,” I whisper, biting my lip when Ian’s eyes darken, sliding down the exposed flesh on my throat and the sweetheart neckline of my blouse. “I think you have a moral obligation to prove him wrong.”

Ian leans in again, kissing my lips, then murmuring against them “We’re going to be at the packhouse after this, baby, and my next appointment isn’t until four. Eat up. You’re going to need your strength.”

“I talked to Ivan this morning, by the way.” Ian leans back in his chair, but his eyes still rove over me, a slight curl at each corner of his mouth. “Kallie’s pregnant.”

“Already?”

Ian laughs at my tone. “Apparently, they were trying. Ivan said Silas hasn’t spent more than a half hour at work for the last three weeks and he’s pretty sure Kallie hasn’t left their bed since they got home.”

I can’t help my smile. “I’m glad they’re happy.”

“Silas is giddy, and even after baby-sitting Tasha and Tavie, he wants daughters.” Ian laughs when my face sobers.

“That’s not giddy, Ian. That’s insane. A houseful of them will put him in his grave.” I inhale the scent of the juice Ian ordered for me, trying to guess the combination of plants Darla used in this one—beets, strawberries, kale, plus there’s something else I don’t recognize and make a note to ask.

“Kasey and Ivan are having another girl too.”

“Oh my word. Poor Desert pack. They’ve no idea what they’re getting into.”

“There was a huge celebration for them in Desert pack actually. Ivan said it made Kasey feel welcome. Apparently, their girls are popular. They’re running the town already.”

I can’t help my expression hardening. “I’ll be they are.”

Ian’s brows draw together. “What’s that look for?”

“Never mind.” I lean back as Joe returns with our lunch. “This looks wonderful, thank you,” I compliment, admiring the plate he sets before me.

“Darla’s latest vegan creation for you, Luna. Southern fried battered tofu, black-eyed peas, fried collard greens, potato salad, and—,” he sets a generous basket of cornbread between Ian and me, “cornbread, of course.”

“All these fried foods are going to make me fat, Joe.”

“I can’t imagine that ever happening to you, Luna. And for our alpha, smoked barbeque beef brisket, fried okra, mac-n-cheese, sweet mashers and a double helping of my flakey biscuits with cream gravy.”

Raising a third plate full of shaved and shredded meats, a small side of mashed sweet potatoes and a few pieces of cubed cornbread, Joe looks around us, then under the table. “No Tessa?”

I gesture to the park, where Tessa has collected her ball and despite their encouraging calls, is leaving the children to come to the restaurant. “She’s on her way.”

Joe smiles, setting the plate on the ground beside our table. “Save room for homemade pie and vanilla ice cream.”

“It’s perfect, Joe. Thanks.”

Ian watches until Joe goes back inside, nodding to a passer-by who greets him, then tucks into his meal. “The second round of Desert pack trackers will be here to relieve the first at the end of next week.”

I peer at him. “That doesn’t sound happy.”

“Yes and no. All ten of theirs were unmated and half of them found mates in Candlewood. That’s not the case for our ten in Desert pack. I’m glad we’re getting skills we need, and I’m always happy for mates who find each other. Just not particularly keen on losing all our females. I’m hoping a couple of the Desert wolves will remain with their mates here. But we’ll know next week.”

“Plus Ivan’s having a field day. Between Silas being gone, a generous budget and essentially a clean slate to develop there, I expect to see Desert’s Ciudad d’Arena booming soon.”

“They have to partner with Candlewood contractors though, right?”

Ian snorts, shoving a huge hunk of dead cow slathered with barbeque sauce in his mouth. When he’s done with his bite, he replies, “Even if they didn’t, Ivan would. And don’t get me wrong, Sean’s no slouch. He’s picked up some lucrative business contracts for us too, in areas we haven’t previously explored because they weren’t in any of the Candlewood triumvirate’s wheelhouse. I think I’m going to ask him to talk to the trackers who found mates here. Have him find out what it would take to get them to stay.”

**

Ian    

Finding out Kallie’s already pregnant has been plaguing me all morning. I try to judge from Darby’s reaction what she thinks about that and how it might be relevant to her as a fae, and us as a couple. But not asking her outright, I feel a bit like a heel.

Darby’s coming into her second heat, which is a lot faster than weres—more like humans in fact, with the females having monthly cycles.

But we have a lot of s*x, and I’m not going to lie, only a small portion of it is happening solely so I can make sure Sean knows exactly who she belongs to. And she’s still not pregnant.

Which begs the question: what if it’s not her—what if it’s me?

Including Silas and Kallie, of the six pairings between Desert pack males and Candlewood females, two-thirds are already carrying pups.

When I tell Darby about the celebration in Desert pack for Ivan and Kasey’s third daughter and Tasha and Tavie being popular there, her response surprises me.

“I’ll be they are.”

There’s a hard glint in her eye and a subtle resentment in her tone that make me wonder what I’m missing that she knows. “What’s that look for?”

“Never mind.” Darby avoids any further questioning when our food arrives and by the time we’re finished eating, we need to hurry to get back to the packhouse to meet the contractor and landscape architect.

Though the plans look good to me, Darby balks.

“What is the red tie on the oak there for?” she asks the landscape architect, pointing to a tree behind the packhouse.

“That one has to be removed.”

“Why?”

“It’s in the way of the design.”

“There’s no other tree along this side for another fifty feet. I’d prefer to shift the design that direction and leave the tree.”

The contractor shrugs, offering no help to the landscape architect.

Barely disguising his annoyance, he replies, “Look, Mrs. Gallagher. I don’t mean to offend you, but the plans are already approved and permitted. You’ll lose this tree here, but we’re putting in six others around the periphery to replace it.”

“Wonderful. Put in the six others but leave this one too. Shift the addition that way and then you don’t have to remove the tree.”

“We already have the permits. It might take weeks for us to get new ones.”

“Edgar,” I soothe. “Money isn’t an issue—you know that. If my mate wants you to leave the tree, find a way to leave the tree. Okay?”

“Sir, we’re prepared to break ground. It’s just a tree.”

Darby huffs in frustration. “There’s no ‘just’ about it. It’s a living thing. I’ll show you.” She closes her eyes, and I hear the strange melodic sound of the Old Tongue. When she opens her eyes again, she’s entirely focused on the landscape architect. “Touch it. Go on. Put your hand on the trunk.”

Shaking his head slowly, the man steps over to the tree, muttering under his breath about damn hippies and women. To antagonize her, he slaps his hand onto the trunk.

His eyes fly open wide and his body jerks rigidly.

“Darby, what have you done?” I hiss.

She rests a restraining hand on my arm. “Give him a moment to look around.”

“Baby, he’s freaking out.” Before I can step towards him though, the man pulls his hand from the tree, retreating as if he’d been burned, his eyes flicking about him in a controlled panic.

“Okay! Okay! The tree stays.” He hurries away from us.

“What did you show him?”

The smile Darby gives me is so gentle and beautiful, it takes my breath away. “I showed him what life looks like. The magic is still in place. Touch it if you want to see what he saw.”

Moving away from her, I lay a large hand against the tree’s trunk.

As though a switch is flipped, everything in my sight reverses in color, like a photo negative. Beneath my hand, twisted strands of startling green light pulse and surge up and down the tree trunk, out along the branches and light up the leaves like tiny fixed flames.

And it’s not just the tree. Darby’s Luna lilies, speckling the pulsing grass, light up in a spectacular array of colors, the butterflies and bees busily flying from one flower to the next, light up like flashing fireflies. I see the same glancing at every living thing around me. My world, the one I see every day, is teeming with life. Life I take for granted.

Then I look at Darby.

Though her body resembles a human form, it’s composed almost entirely of ethereal light. Unlike the astonishing lifelight of other things around me, her faery light is soft, soothing and pleasant to look at. It doesn’t flicker or waver, but stays steady, an almost rosy warm shade. Without a word, she unfurls her filigree wings and I’m positive in this moment I’m in the presence of an angel.

I have to release the tree to reach for her, but I’m not disappointed when my sight returns to normal. I still can’t take my eyes off her.

“You— are— so beautiful.”

She beams, her perfect lips spreading across her perfect face in a perfect smile. “You don’t hurt to look at either.”