The Matchmaker's Mark (8 page)

Just pushing herself upright left her head reeling. She smoothed her hair back and groaned as her fingers grazed the lump, causing another wave of pain.

"Easy there," the not-a-delivery man warned from across the room. "Would you like ice?"

"Are all stalkers so thoughtful?"

He grunted, but any real words were lost in the scrape and rattle of ice into a bag. "Here."

Peering at him, she realized he was standing at the absolute limit of his reach. She accepted the ice, and used the wall to hold it in place while she gathered her thoughts. "How long have I been out?"

"A couple hours," he said, returning to his chair across the room. "You should let your friend know you're okay and ask her to bring your things here."

She didn't bother to dignify that. No way was she staying in a strange man's hotel room any longer than necessary. There was only so much latitude she could extend to her aunt's security specialist. Guinness needed her. Her class expected her.

The ice took the edge off the pain, making it a little easier to deal with details. "Darian Knoll, right?"

"Yes, Ma-"

"Call me Amy." She didn't care for the Southern 'ma'am' thing. Manners were fine, and while she'd earned 'professor', she didn't feel old enough yet to be a 'ma'am'.

"All right." He nodded as if that was an enormous relief. "Amy. Are you feeling better?"

"Guess so." She glanced around, trying to determine where she was by the view through the window. A church steeple speared up from the rooftops nearby, but that wasn't much help in Charleston. She and Guinness had walked and walked, but she hadn't memorized which steeple went with which church on which street.

"This has been an eventful day for you. I've learned your attacker is still in custody. Which gives us time to move."

She looked down at her aunt's letter and her cell phone on the end table, well within reach. "Move?"

He nodded. "We need to get you back home to –"

"No." She just stopped herself from shaking her head. "I'm not done here."

She hadn't even made it to the beach yet. Sun and sand in January, even if the ocean was chilly, beat the cold snowy landscape of the Midwest. She could almost hear the sound of the surf already, though that might just be the blood pounding in her head. And she'd been saving her scheduled beach day to indulge in the latest book from her favorite historical romance author. She would enjoy that book, sand, and sunshine before she headed back to cold snow and ice. But her aunt's assistant didn't need to know all that. "I have to finish the class."

"Your friend, the other teacher, she'll take care of the class."

"We're a team on this."

He shrugged. "She can cover for you. No one will blame you for taking a couple days to recover from the attack. It will give us some time and space to get you out of here."

"I can't just leave. I made commitments."

"Now you have different commitments."

"What are you talking about?"

He pulled his chair closer. "As the Matchmaker, you cannot take chances. That man will not be the last to come sniffing around. You need to move quickly and – "

"What did you call me?"

"The Matchmaker. It's there in the letter from your aunt."

"Beg pardon?" Matchmaker? What did her aunt's myth letter have to do with this? She exchanged the ice pack for the letter and read through it again. "I'm not following. You run security for my aunt's consulting firm."

"I did. And as such I know you will take over for your aunt." He scrubbed a hand over his jaw, mumbling as he did.

"Repeat that."

"You'll take over."

"No. The part after that." She sat up a little straighter, aiming every ounce of the intimidation she'd learned as a professor, daring him to lie to her.

He swore, then smiled with a little too much charm. "I said you already have."

"Have what?"

"Taken over the position." He threw his hands in the air as if he wanted to pull out his hair. Grumbling, fists balled at his sides, he closed in on her, stopping just short of shaking her she was sure. "You have taken over the position. The
consulting
." He actually used air quotes. "You are the Matchmaker."

What was in the water today? Between Maeve mooning over every scrap of testosterone and her getting attacked by a total stranger, she wasn't in the mood for delusions or fairy tales. "We must be reading different letters. Aunt Camille just wants me to research this myth and give her a story. We used to do it all the time."

"You must have a concussion." He crossed the room, waving her over to join him. "Come here."

She eyed him warily, then wondered why. She'd vetted him, as she failed to do with the Barclay man. Darian had been kind. Helpful and protective. Possibly delusional, but believing in fairy tales didn't automatically equal dangerous. Following him put her closer to the door and a potential escape. When she reached him, pleased that her legs felt sturdy, she let him turn her toward the mirror over the vanity.

"Look at your eyes."

She stared at her reflection. Those were her eyes, yet they weren't. Something was off. Different. She leaned closer to the mirror. Shots of dark blue radiated out from her pupils like a starburst. Trying to count the points only made her dizzy. She touched the mirror, backed up and looked at the lighting, but she couldn't see the trick. Blinking, unable to make the effect go away, she thought of Maeve.

"New contacts," she murmured.

"That won't lessen the Matchmaker's effect."

She glanced at him in the reflection, but his face was a stoic mask of determination.

"The letter says Camille sent something to you," he said, turning away. In a moment he'd returned with the letter. "You must go home and get it. There's no time to lose."

Amy couldn't look at her bizarre eyes any more. She faced him instead. "Darian, I'll admit this is… Wait." She stumbled back a step as information flooded her mind. It was as if a dam had burst. Darian, Dare to his friends. Wood Elf. From a long line of elves in service to the Elite Guard. What the hell was the Elite Guard, she wondered, just as the answers tumbled around her head. "Wait. How do I know this?" And why did it seem as familiar, as normal, as anything out of her own past?

"Know what?"

She needed to get out of here. Amy shoved at his chest, a useless move that got her no closer to her escape. "Your nickname. I know your nickname: Dare. Your family. Your past." Her vision blurred and tunneled. She fought to stay conscious, to stay upright. "Stop it. I'm not hysterical," she groused, when he made soothing noises and rubbed her arm. But blackness crept around the edges of her vision, threatening to take her under again. Were the words even coming out of her mouth anymore? She slapped blindly at his hands. "I said stop whatever you are doing."

Slowly her vision cleared, but she was in a chair near the table, with no memory of getting there. "What was that?" She saw him hesitate. "Tell me everything," she growled.

He sighed and handed over her phone. "Will you listen?"

She nodded. She had no choice, needing the information and explanations.

"And will you believe?" He glared down at her, arms crossed, feet planted. The stormy temper in his eyes was unmistakable, but oddly, she wasn't afraid.

Not of him.

With the riot of information and visions currently running through her head belief wasn't going to be an issue. Acceptance, maybe. Where moments ago she was focused on commitments, now she was worried about being committed to an institution. She nodded. "Please tell me how I know so much more than your name," she said with all the superiority she'd use to subdue an off-track discussion group.

He rolled his eyes and muttered words that sounded like soft rain on a forest floor. "I suppose it's a hand-me-down."

She waited, her eyes locked on his face.

He blinked first. "Knowledge from one Matchmaker to the other. I can't know for sure as I'm not allowed to read the book, but it makes sense that there would be magic to ease the transition."

"Transition?"

He pushed his hands through his hair. "Did you touch the man in your office?"

"Not willingly. He grabbed me." She didn't care for the way Darian's face blanched.

"How did he react?"

She closed her eyes, not understanding, but trying to cooperate. "He shouted. Called me a fool I think." She opened her eyes. "Why?"

"Did he act injured? In any way?"

She nodded. "He acted as if I'd burned him. There was a rash on his arm."

Darian swore. "We have to get you out of here."

"What? Hold on. Why? Did he contaminate me or something?" She wanted answers, but Camille's security expert was pacing rather than talking.

"The opposite, actually. You've described marking an unwilling participant. He'll now be consumed with finding his mate or hunting you for vengeance."

"Oh, no. I'm so sorry. Can I take it back?" Wasn't there some sort of escape clause for ignorance? It's not like anyone had told her what the hell was going on.

"He's in jail at the moment." Dare sighed. "I'll tell you what I know." His eyes narrowed, turning an impossible, mesmerizing silvery green. "After you text your friend and tell her we will come pick up your things."

Amy understood the value of compromise. She sent the text, assuring Maeve she was all right. Turning off the phone, she studied Dare. He looked worn and weary, the shadows under his eyes worse than they'd been yesterday. "You're really an elf?" He nodded. The implications were mind boggling. "And you're sure the guy in the office was a werewolf?" He nodded again. "Oh, my word!" She pressed her fingers to her lips. "So that means the troll client was a real troll?"

Dare closed his eyes and shook his head. "This is going to take a while."

~*~

"You still look pale," Cade observed when Lily came downstairs, dressed in jeans and a soft, feminine purple twinset that covered the ever-irritating mark on her arm.

"It's the light. Fluorescent bulbs do nothing for me." The sunflowers hadn't helped. Because her mark kept reacting, making her hands tense up, designing new arrangements had been taxing. While her display cooler looked fantastic, she looked and felt weary.

"True enough. You're best in natural light."

"Aren't we all?" The banter settled her, as clearly spending the day away from her shop had settled him. As elves, they were both better, stronger, outside in the world's natural elements. "The closer to nature the better," she added. "Shall we go?"

"Just a sec." Cade wanted the cat to stay in the shop while they were out, so he turned off the device on his collar that allowed the cat door to open.

Lily scratched at her arm while Cade was distracted with Henry. The mark hadn't changed visibly, but it had been pestering her all day with hot sparks and light tingling sensations.

"Thanks again for letting us bunk here, Lil'," he said as she locked the back door.

"Sure thing."

She looped her unmarked arm through his as they walked through the alley back onto King Street. Shop windows gleamed with eye-catching displays, and the restaurants had their doors open, enticing customers with samples and heady aromas.

"Italian or burritos?"

"Burritos!" She was starving. Though the day had been less than challenging, she'd kept herself busy after Maeve left. Slowing down, pausing for food or anything else would've given her mind time to ponder vases of sunflowers and the elusive stranger who'd carted them about town.

Cade's smile nearly lit up the street as they made their way to Mama Rita's. His favorite restaurant was known for their huge portions.

"Have you heard anything new?" He picked up a bottle of beer for each of them and pointed her toward the booth closest to the kitchen.

She shook her head. Grabbing a basket of tortilla chips and a bottle of salsa she followed him, sliding into the open seat. No surprise he'd taken the bench that put the wall at his back so he'd have a good view of the entire restaurant. Old habits clearly died hard, if ever. Cade led his own unit of the Elite Guard and served on special assignments for the high court that governed the wood elves.

It was warm by the kitchen and Lily slipped out of her coat, careful not to expose her birthmark. "How long will you stay?"

"Lily, you know I couldn't tell you that, even if I knew."

She understood, the whole 'if I tell you I have to kill you' thing. As a little sister, she'd heard it plenty, whether the secret was the fate of the last cookie or a trampled rose bush. Cade's career path only gave him more bravado to sell the line. She recognized him sleeping at her place as a sign of a serious situation, but she was pretty sure he knew how long he'd be in town. Cade might successfully hide things from others, but he was her favorite big brother and she knew all his tells. He was here on very specific business.

"So will you have time for some sightseeing?" Accepting what he could tell her would help him relax, making it easier to possibly uncover the truth. Little sisters were pros at dredging secrets. If nothing else, she was a pro at being a little sister.