Page 11 of Twilight Echoes
“My pack doesn’t have a seat at the national level. Only locally. And if our numbers keep dropping, we’ll need to merge with another one. Chaz has already made the offer.” He leaned over and took her hand. “Do you have any idea how soothing this dust feels? It’s better than any healing potion that witch doctor gave me.”
“I’m told that when a witch is part fairy, the dust can take on the attributes of the witch’s specialty. Even though I’m not a master, I’m still a healer, so that’s good. Maybe it’s helping to slow down whatever it is that is killing you.” She choked on the last few words. She never wanted any creature to suffer. Ever. It was against her nature as a decent person, but even more so as a healer. As a small child, she would always try to heal her sister’s ailments and broken bones. She reached out and touched his knee. “It hurts here, doesn’t it?”
“That’s where it started. I thought maybe it was arthritis or something.” He chuckled. “Like you, I pushed through the pain for years.”
“How many?”
“I can’t even remember anymore.”
She knelt before him and rubbed her palms together. “Wow. I wasn’t going for more dust, but I’ll work with it,” she whispered. “Where else?”
He curled his fingers around her wrists. “Don’t.”
“Why not?”
“I can feel you accepting me. Taking a stand by me. You do that and mating will begin. The last thing I want to do is break your heart by having you watch me die.” He closed his eyes for a few seconds before blinking them open. “I wanted to be healed before I came to you. To be whole so that we could go through the process naturally. But I need your father’s help.”
Her heart felt as though it was lifting right out of her chest.
He was right. Her soul wanted to connect even if her mind wasn’t ready.
“My dad’s at home. Let’s go talk to him.” She took a step back, focusing her energy on her core and pulling her dust to her center. Reluctantly, the particles shifted in the air and floated into her body. “If he doesn’t have the answers, he’ll know how to find them.”
3
Avery took the hand that Darrell offered and eased from the driver’s side of her vehicle.
“I have to ask, but only because I noticed that guy at rehearsal. Do you always have a bodyguard?”
She rolled her eyes. “That started when Amanda and Jackson got together. Everyone’s just worried someone might try to take out me or one of my sisters. But yeah, being part of the royal family means sometimes I’m followed by that big guy.”
“Does he have a name?”
“Ollie. He doesn’t talk much. More like grunts at me.” She pulled open the door. “You can wait in here.” She escorted Darrell into the living room near her father’s home office. The second she’d heard his voice at rehearsal, her insides turned to a warm marshmallow roasting over an open flame. Her heart lurched to her throat when her eyes finally focused on the man walking toward the stage. She’d mooned over Darrell for years, making sure she had a ticket to see his performance every time he'd come to town. A few times, she’d even managed a backstage pass, but he’d always been surrounded by an entourage, and women fell to his feet, begging for his attention.
She never wanted to be that girl.
Shortly before she’d been cast as the understudy for the New York City Ballet, Darrell had retired and began a career as a choreographer. She’d always hoped he’d land back in the Big Apple.
“I can’t thank you enough for bringing me here,” Darrell said. His dark hair flowed over the collar of his shirt. It looked like he hadn’t shaved in a week, and his dark orbs speckled with almond freckles seemed to carry a burden so deep it touched his soul.
She’d learned so much about imprinting from her brother-in-law and sister. She understood that a wolf had absolutely no control over it. And that when it happened with a species other than a wolf, or even with a wolf, acceptance did play a role.
Amanda described it as consent, whereas Jackson said it was more like taking a stand. Choosing to fight, defend, and love.
Avery couldn’t deny the emotions that swirled around inside her belly. They’d been there for years. Darrell had been her first crush, and he’d always been in her dreams. She’d fantasized about being with him and not just sexually. It was always the fairy-tale ending. Part of her now wondered if it was because he’d imprinted.
Or because she really liked the damn wolf.
Either way, her mind and heart were at odds, and she could sense the tug-of-war raging within her body.
“I wouldn’t be surprised if my dad already knows about your father and what’s going on with your pack. He does attend the national meetings,” she said, pointing to the bar. “Care for a drink?”
“I’m good.” Darrell shook his head as he inched closer. A warmth rolled across her skin like the sun beating down on the sandy beach. Only, the closer he got, the colder her aching knee felt.
The one doctor she’d spoken to thought it could be arthritis.
The kiss of death for a dancer.
