Light of Kaska (30 page)

Myelle’s mouth quirked oddly, as if she was fighting both a smile and a grimace. "I’m going to let you find that out for yourself."

"Mom," Keza growled, but Myelle shook her head and shifted the sleeping toddler in her arms.

"Let’s get Neesie in bed and then see what we can do about that celebration."

As if on cue, Nade appeared with a tender smile and a mother’s light in her eyes, leaning down to lift her baby from Myelle’s arms. "Poor tired princess," she cooed when the child grumbled at the jostling. "Did grandma wear you out again?"

"Are you kidding? The only way to slow that girl down is knock her on the head or give her a strong drink."

Rogue jerked and cast them a guilty look. "I thought it was juice, I swear."

Nade laughed, eyes sparkling and face glowing with affectionate humor. Keza grinned, watching her sister with wistful amazement. Nade was younger than she was but seemed to have found a mature center upon which to build the architecture of her happiness. Having seen her sister with Harle, she knew that the big man had a great deal to do with her sister’s current contentment. Nade had always been uncommonly serene, but now that she had a lifemate and a child, she seemed to float in the Goddess’ blessing like a mote of light.

Keza touched wondering fingers to her belly. Would it change so much for her? She thought of Chase fading into the darkness and flinched. Okay, maybe not. Chase Stryker was a very different man from Harle. He was also a man who was in very big trouble if he didn’t make up his friggin’ mind.

Chapter 15

"Damn, are you in trouble," Harle announced behind him.

Stryker snarled silently into the night but didn’t turn from the view, leaning harder on the sill of the tower window.

"Nade’s talking about cuttin’ you off from the kitchen again and Liss mentioned castration. She’s a bloody-minded little thing. The Dragon didn’t say no neither. Guard your goods, son."

Stryker snorted, watching the small figures below with a sensation like vertigo sickening his stomach. He deserved their censure, their violence. He couldn’t believe he’d done it again, after she’d opened her arms to him, opened her body to his. He’d hurt her again. "Might be better if they did," he muttered.

The silence behind him was thunderous. Then Harle made a disbelieving sound in his throat. "Shit, man, you can’t be serious. They ain’t gonna snip you just ‘cause you missed a party."

Stryker shot a frown over his shoulder. "Don’t be stupid. They’re pissed for good reason."

"Good reason? Look, bein’ anti-social ain’t a crime—"

"I hurt her again." Stryker pressed his forehead to the glass and gazed down at the lights and music below. "If I was them, I’d chuck my ass in the drink."

"Hurt her? How?"

Stryker turned slowly, studying Harle’s frowning face. "She didn’t tell you?"

"No, but you’re gonna," Harle responded grimly, big body settling into a predatory stance, eyes hardening into silver-blue steel.

"You saw how she was walking. I thought it was just sore muscles, but she’s all bruised." Stryker slapped a hand against the wall and turned back to the window. "
Kessu,
the woman is so fucking fragile. I can’t touch her without doing damage."

Harle was quiet for a moment. "So…you didn’t hit her or get rough with her. You’re just talkin’ about sex?"

Stryker sent him a speaking look over his shoulder. Harle burst into laughter then backed up in a hurry when Stryker spun and stalked toward him.

"Whoa! Hang up. I just figured out you’re in worse trouble than I thought. So you’re not freakin’ about being a papa?"

That stopped Stryker.
Of course
he was freaking. Life was growing inside his Keza, a life he’d helped to create. Terrified euphoria threatened to swamp him. He was a lot better at destruction, so good at it in fact, that he could wound the only person he’d ever sworn not to hurt. The kind of miraculous creation that was happening in Keza was almost impossible to believe. His part in it seemed horribly audacious, as if his involvement guaranteed some kind of divine retribution. She would be right to blame him if anything happened to it or her. Freaking was a mild term for what was going on inside him.

"Go away, Harle." He turned to the window again, to his self-imposed exile. He should be heading for the nearest exit, for Keza’s sake. For the sake of the whole damned family. But he cursed his own weakness, the need that kept him riveted to this place and to her. A need he couldn’t understand any more than he could understand why Keza hadn’t kicked his ass out into the night.

"Hmm." The big man didn’t go away, moving to lean on the wall next to the window with folded arms, studying Stryker. "Know what you need? Pie."

Stryker looked at the sandy-haired idiot with disgust. "Food’s your answer?"

"Yup." Harle nodded without apology.

"Go
away,
Harle," he said with hard emphasis.

"Don’t be such a pain in the ass. Come on, I’ll share my stash."

Stryker watched the other man saunter away. He didn’t want pie. But the big man who’d called him
friend
was a decent distraction. With a sigh and a last glance down at the warm lights, he followed Harle.

Thankfully, the big guy didn’t take him back to the courtyard. Stryker wasn’t sure he could see Keza without touching her, without pulling her into the dark with him. Instead, they went to Harle’s quarters. When they stepped across the threshold, Stryker heard Nade say, "Did you find him?" When Harle moved out of the way and she caught sight of Stryker, she smiled. "Oh, good, you brought him."

Stryker froze, feeling the door close behind him like a trap snapping shut. He watched warily as Harle kissed his mate and murmured in her ear, before sending him a level look.

"I’m gonna go watch my daughter sleep. You two stay outta trouble."

"Prick," Stryker aimed at his traitorous back, but Harle just waved a lazy hand, his voice and form fading down a dark hall while he said, "Yeah, yeah…"

Nade watched him with a faint smile. "Will you come in?" She paused, studying his tense form before lifting an eyebrow in mild challenge. "Or will you run?" He gave her a look that had made more than one man recoil, but she just tipped her head to one side with a blink of her eyes. "What was the bait?" she asked him, turning her willowy form and leading him to the kitchen.

"Pie."

"Then pie it is."

"Rather have a drink."

"How about both?"

He said nothing. She didn’t appear to need his input. With graceful efficiency, she glided around the kitchen, gathering a piece of creamy pie and a tall glass filled with an ominously pink liquid. He pointed an accusing finger at the glass with raised eyebrows, but all she did was give him a bland smile and sit next to him at the table.

Stryker stared at her offerings then stared at her, trying to figure out if this was part of the trap. She smirked and said nothing. With a shrug, he picked up the glass and took a swig. He paused a moment after swallowing, but the tangy-sweet burn over his tongue and down his throat was pleasant and he didn’t keel over. Picking up the fork, he sliced off a bite of pie and tried it.

"White chocolate cream," she said when he made an appreciative noise.

"S’good," he muttered around another bite, eyeing her while he chewed. "So why’d you sick your mate on me?"

She smiled that bland smile again, her eyes turning opaque and hiding any emotion. He tried not to tense.

"Harle likes you. He seems to think that you’re a decent man, but it’s disturbing to me how often and how easily you hurt my sister."

The pie got stuck in his throat. Fist clenching around the fork, he coughed and swallowed hard, before picking up the glass with deliberate care and draining it dry. She watched him with knowing eyes and serene features.

"I’m staying away from her," he said hoarsely, wishing he could believe it.

"Why?"

"So I won’t hurt her anymore."

"Foolish," Nade murmured with a shake of her head. "That’s what’s hurting her. But if you mean to stay away, why haven’t you left?"

Stryker frowned. "What do you mean, that’s what’s hurting her?"

She sighed, giving him a level stare. "Why are you still here, Chase?"

He shifted in his seat, looking down at the pie, hand tightening around the empty glass. How could staying away hurt her? She had what she wanted from him, what her family had wanted from her candidate. Besides, he couldn’t put bruises on her if he couldn’t touch her.

"Chase?"

"I don’t know," he muttered, not looking at her. He couldn’t voice the need. He didn’t have the words for it.

"You don’t know why you’re still here? Why you can’t leave?" she asked gently.

His head jerked up. Her tone said she knew even if he didn’t. So did her expression, her features filled with some mysterious knowledge. Myelle had looked at him that way once.

"Your mother thinks it’s because Keza has a way with wild animals," he said, not bothering to hide his bitterness.

The sudden smile on her face surprised him with its lovely and mischievous warmth. "Ah, well, my mother doesn’t like you much. Although she seems to be coming around. But I read your file with a little more objectivity."

"My file?" he asked warily, wondering what that had to do with anything.

"You’re an orphan. You never had a family. You lived in a very dark place for a very long time. But you were looking for the light, weren’t you? That’s what you found in Keza. And now that you’ve found it, you can’t give it up."

He stared at her. "What the hell are you talking about?"

She chuckled and pried the glass from his hand, rising to refill it. When she handed it back to him, she smiled in a very gentle way, eyes warm. "You’ve been looking for love. And you found it."

He snorted despite the strange lurch in the center of his being at her words. "Love is a myth."

"So is our Goddess. Yet you felt her touch, saw my sister’s face on her statue. What did that mean to you?"

He narrowed his eyes on her, wondering if she was driving him nuts on purpose. This talk of some mystical woman made him want to slam his head into a wall. The statue thing could’ve had any number of logical explanations, but the females in this family insisted on believing the most nonsensical shit. He carefully ignored the odd, icy sensation in his chest when he remembered Keza’s face on the marble and told himself he was humoring her nutty sister. "Keza said your Goddess was trying to tell me something."

"She was."

"So what’s she telling me?"

"That you’re home, Chase," Nade said with a brilliant smile, amber eyes brimming with tears. She placed a hand on his arm, her touch cool and gentle. "You’re finally home."

He studied her luminous face and sparkling eyes. The poor, deluded woman really believed it. "Nade?"

"Yes, Chase?"

"You’re soft in the head."

Her laughter danced around the kitchen as she sat back and wiped the moisture from her lashes with unselfconscious fingers. "Yes, but I’ve been told it’s my best quality."

Harle growled ominously in the doorway, "Why you cryin’, babe?"

"Just being sentimental, sweetie. Stop glaring at Chase—it’s not his fault."

The dangerous lines in the big man’s face eased into a sour grimace. "Like hell it ain’t. He bein’ difficult?"

She sent her mate a sly look, before propping her elbow on the table and chin in her hand, giving Chase a sweet smile that did something strange inside his chest. "No more than usual."

Harle grumbled something under his breath. "That’s because you’re talkin’ to him from the wrong direction. C’mon, man. Got somethin’ to show you."

Relieved to get away from Keza’s sister and her disturbing notions, he rose with alacrity and followed Harle back down the darkened hall.

"Keep quiet," the big man whispered, though it wasn’t necessary. They both moved with the silent stealth of true predators.

They entered a small room dimly lit with a little light in the shape of a bunny. Harle pointed at a small bed and whispered, "What do you see?"

"Your daughter, I’m guessing," Stryker responded in a low voice, studying the tiny creature sprawled in the bed.

"Look closer."

Stryker sent him a dry glance. "Local handyman’s daughter?"

Harle cuffed him none too gently on the back of the head. Stryker tried to give him a warning glare, but a grin kept tugging at his lips.

"Asshole. Open your friggin’ eyes and
look.
" Harle stepped closer, gazing down on his daughter with a tender, almost awed expression. "She’s as close to peace as we’re ever gonna get. I saw some terrible shit when I was a badge. Saw it, did it, damn near drowned in it. Same kinda shit you floated in, I ‘magine. Can’t change that or forget it. But she makes it better." He paused, watching the little girl sleep with a faint smile. "I won’t tell you how much I love her, ‘cause there just ain’t words. You won’t believe me anyway. But you can see she’s pure and clean, and that’s worth protecting."

Stryker stared down at the little body, trying to see what Harle saw. Her small, chubby limbs sprawled across the bedding in utter abandonment, her soft face totally relaxed in sleep, lips parted on heavy breaths that were just shy of snores. There was some shiny drool on her cheek and her golden curls spread around her fragile head and clung damply to her tender neck. She was as vulnerable a creature as any he’d ever seen. He supposed it was a big responsibility trying to keep someone as defenseless as this alive.

"You ever sleep like that in your life?" Harle asked in a low, musing voice, as if he’d forgotten Stryker was there.

Stryker gazed down at the girl’s complete, fearless relaxation and realized that the answer was no. Not even when he was this small. His childhood had been too fraught with fear and loneliness, gray and dismal with distrust and isolation. Suddenly he saw what Harle was trying to say. Knowing the face of badness, Harle could keep it away and watch this creature thrive in the light. She was his redemption, his way of remaking his ugly past into something good.