Piper

 

“Sora, are you sure?” I asked my gorgeous cousin as I craned my neck to look at myself in the mirror. I was wearing something I’d usually never be found in – a slip-like dress that left little to the imagination. My shoulders seemed too big for it and my legs too muscled.

“Yes, Pi,” Soraya said in a patient voice as she nibbled on her croissant and eyed me. “Epitome of London Street Fashion, standing right here in front of me. Strap on some wedges and you’re good to go. C’est bonne!”

“Heels?” I asked, revolted. “What if I need to run?”

“Kick ‘em off?” Soraya suggested blandly as she stood up and stretched. She was wearing a pair of capris and an off the shoulder flowery top, making her look like a 30’s movie star. However, without her usual heels, she was a few inches shorter than me and twinkled as she came up next to me. “Piper, you look good. Muy fuego, in fact. Come on, you need to cut loose and blend in. Enjoy it.”

“Ugh,” I muttered, wiping my hands on the silky material. “What time is it? I need to go wake up Balt.”

“He’s still not up?” Soraya asked, glancing at the clock.

It was almost nine and she had to leave soon, which made me feel anxious. That was rare for me and it was making me feel more anxious.

Soraya took the edge off any situation, a veritable wizard at making people relaxed and happy. Having her around had eased the tension between me and Balt, too.

Although after last night – I was hoping all of that was behind us.

“No. I found him up on the roof at 2 a.m. and we talked,” I said, suddenly feeling a flush of embarrassment out of nowhere. “He’s not mad at me anymore, I think.”

“Oh, really?” Soraya asked, arching a long brow at me in the mirror and shaking back her newly dyed caramel colored ringlets. “About time. So, is he…?”

I met her eyes in the mirror and bit my lip. Is he back to normal? “I think so.”

“Good,” Soraya exhaled. “Because he was freaking me out for a good minute there. I mean, you should have seen him when you were missing, Piper. It was ugly.”

“I know,” I muttered with a wince, walking away from the mirror and over to the window.

Everyone, it seemed, had taken it upon themselves to tell me how Balt had behaved when I was kidnapped. Rampaging around, getting into fights, threatening people, and basically doing a complete 180 in terms of personality.

It was hard to believe at first – until he started getting growly with me in the last week or so. But I’d also seen the way people gave him looks of nervous hilarity when he’d apologized to them at the Shifters of Anubis. Followed by covert looks from Soraya and my father, filled with worry. As though they sensed something with him was still off.

Even my baby brother Kai had said something.

You know, Balt was a mess without you, Pi.

His innocent tone had piqued me. Why did I feel like there was something he wasn’t telling me?

Furthermore, I sometimes sensed, too, for the briefest of moments that something was jagged and broken inside of Balt. But then he’d smile and I knew I had to be imagining things.

And I knew Balt felt terrible for the way he’d acted. He’d apologized to me and everyone else so many times, I’d lost track. It had been a time of upheaval, but now the dust was settling. 

Everything would go back to the way it was.

“You okay, hon?” Soraya asked and I smiled at her as she came over.

“Yeah,” I said. “Of course. Everything’s back to the way it was.”

Soraya hesitated, then smiled at me sweetly. “Or maybe it’s gonna be better.”

“What?” I asked.

“Nothing, sweetheart, I gotta go,” Soraya said, giving me a hug. “I’ll see you later?”

“Sure,” I said. “Later, darling.”

As Soraya walked out of the room and the door closed behind her, I knew I’d maybe see her tomorrow morning. There was no way she’d pass up a night on the town.

Going into Balt's room, I heard his deep and even breathing. For a second, I considered leaving him behind but I knew he'd lose his mind if I did that. Going over to the curtains, I pulled them open and let in the soggy light of London and our view of the Thames River running below.

A muffled groan came from behind me and I turned to see Balt rolling over, throwing an arm over his eyes. He muttered something in Greek that sounded like the sun is too early.

“Balt, I let you sleep as long as I could, but we have to leave in a half hour.”

A long sigh met these words and then he slowly began to sit up, giving me a sleepy smile. “Mornin’ Pipla.” Stretching, his usual deep voice faintly accented with Greek even more pronounced, he asked in a low rumble, “If it’s not too much trouble, coffee, please.”

I nodded, suddenly aware I was blushing and not able to form a coherent sentence.

What is wrong with me? I wondered, as my skin tingled as Balt gazed dreamily at me.

He wasn’t exactly a morning person, especially after a long flight. But it wasn’t his gaze that was unnerving me, it was… Balt.

The sheets were twisted around his waist, his wavy black hair was adorably rumpled and there was a growth of stubble, almost a beard really, all along his thick, strong jaw. Black hair that continued and covered his broad chest down beyond those sheets.

He was an intense kind of handsome, one that easily became brooding and beautiful when he didn’t smile. It also didn’t help that he was tall and strong. He was the epitome of why the Olympic Games were from his home country and especially why the athletes had competed naked.

I sucked in a breath at that last thought. It had come out of nowhere and I realized why I was blushing. Nerves. I’m nervous. What the hell…?

Here was a man I’d seen shirtless a million times before. His big shoulders, biceps, and defined abs had never bothered me before. In fact, I could easily picture him as a gawky teenager or an adorable kid, before he completely outgrew me.

Only I couldn’t.

I was completely trapped in this present moment, staring at this half-naked man and utterly at sea with myself. I was flustered. Where was this coming from?

This was Balt! I knew him.

From his swirl of colorful tattoo sleeves that extended from his shoulder to his elbow, the fesootai that we shared and the ones across his back. I knew every last one – hell I’d been there for most of them.

So, why did I suddenly want to trace my fingers across his warm skin, feel his arms around me like they’d been last night – our clothes soaked from the rain but our skin heating each other?

“Piper?” Balt’s voice was clearer now. “Are you alright? You look flushed.”

His dark eyes were no longer sleepy and I got a hold of myself with an icy bitch slap. Damn jet lag was making me loopy. “Of course. I’ll get coffee. Go take a shower.”

Before I could make an escape, Balt crawled out of bed and stood up. He was wearing black boxers and my eyes dropped to the V of his abs before I could help myself. Balt’s dark olive skin seemed to give off a particular heat as he came closer.

“You sleep okay – after I woke you?” he asked, his voice gentle and cheerful all in one. This was the Balt who was as familiar to me as my own two hands. “I’m sorry, Piper. I have not been myself lately.”

Balt sometimes still spoke with the formality of a non-native speaker, depending on his mood. For some reason, it tugged sharply at my heart and I nodded, now able to clearly picture a little boy lost in a new country and struggling to learn a new alphabet as well as a new language.

“Good, good,” Balt said, yawning again and shuffling off to the bathroom.

I stared down at the rug, my mind suddenly spinning.

Yeah. Maybe it is a good thing I’m on probation. I think I’m losing my mind.

 

After a fruitless day of chasing down leads that didn’t go anywhere, I was tired and more than ready to strangle someone. Unfortunately, fate dished out a perfect volunteer.

My father called, saying he’d set up a dinner with one of my old high school peers, Jamison Pierce. Apparently, Jamison did business with the Kazans and other families who knew them, and Dad felt it might be worth following up to try to track down another suspect.

Trouble was, we had no suspects. Only leads who might be able to point us to them.

Only my eyes were glazing over by the time our entrees arrived. I’d been making perfunctory comments and interjections to keep Jamison talking and happy, but I knew I had to find a way to steer the conversation towards the Kazan family. Without raising his suspicion, though. He did have somewhat of a brain.

To my surprise, Jamison did it, asking about Balt.

“Balt is doing well,” I replied smoothly. “Very well. I’ll give him your regards.”

"Is he here in London with you?" Jamison asked, leaning forward and the recessed lighting lit up his thin face and washed out his light blond hair even more. "I heard he was."

“Yes,” I said stiffly, well aware that rumors of my demotion must have filtered through the gossip mill of shifter families connected to the Shifters of Anubis.

“Good old Baltsaros,” Jamison guffawed. “Couldn’t make heads or tails of what he was saying for the first few years there, but he’s doing all right now, isn’t he?”

I clenched my fist around my fork and wondered how loudly Jamison would scream if I drove it into his hand. My mind, however, was thinking back to Balt, struggling as a seven-year-old to put a full sentence together in English and it made my heart ache.

I suspected then, as I did now, it had been a terrible struggle for Balt because he was afraid to lose his heritage. He didn’t want to lose his connection to his father. To his first home.

Jamison didn’t bother to wait for a reply and continued, “I remember when you went with me to the middle school dance. We were what? Twelve? Thirteen? He looked ready to kill me on the spot, glowering at me the whole evening.”

I raised an eyebrow. “You’re exaggerating.”

Soraya had dared me to do that and I’d done it for the twenty bucks, but regretted it about twenty minutes in. No amount of money was worth the painful boredom and annoyance of that night with Jamison Pierce. Ugh.

“Oh, Balt was jealous of me. Money and looks, who could blame him?” Jamison guffawed.

Jamison’s eyes were bright and his cheeks were somewhat flushed, I realized, wrinkling my nose in disgust. I hadn’t touched the wine and the bottle was empty.

I was hard pressed to keep from laughing. Jamison on Balt’s level? Balt was a god and Jamison was a stick of a man who couldn’t hold his liquor.

“His uncle gave up all that Kazan cash trying to escape the curse, of course," Jamison rambled on. "What a fool. I make a mint dealing with them – or I used to anyway. The pool has been drying up."

My ears perked. “Oh? I thought the Kazan trade was quite lucrative.”

His family had everything from jewelry to art to properties all over Europe. Jamison had to be mistaken. Although, I had heard the foolish curse rumors before. Balt had even admitted to them reluctantly when I’d asked him about them. He’d explained it as stories that had popped up around his family’s banishment from SoA.

“I don’t know why, but they’ve gone mum. I’ve heard the curse is working faster and they’re locking themselves in out of fear. Gruesome stories – houses full of bodies, the women aging overnight. All that sort of thing.”

“Jamison, perhaps you should take it easy on the wine,” I said lightly as he opened the second bottle. “You’re telling me ghost stories now.”

His hand shot out and caught my wrist. “Aw, don’t be scared Piper.”

“I wasn’t,” I said dryly, trying to pry his hand off.

But he wouldn’t let go and a small twinge of alarm went through me.

“You don’t think it’s affecting you, do you? After all the Weslarks were always considered lucky until the Kazans came on the scene. First your mom, then your brother and now you.”

I stopped struggling and stared at him, stunned he would dare say something like that.

“You better watch out, Piper,” Jamison’s face was ugly and too close to mine. “Just because that Balt is big and strong doesn’t mean you should go spreading your–”

CRACK.

Jamison let out a howl of pain, gripping his hand as I stood up. I’d broken two of his fingers and I didn’t care. I would have broken his whole arm for suggesting Balt was anything like that.

Never mind myself.

“You bitch. You stupid sl–”

My hand moved of its own accord and hit him across the face. “Watch your tongue, Pierce.”

With that, I turned and moved out of the restaurant, my pulse roaring in my ears. My fingers were clutching my purse so tight, it almost hurt.

A vibration shuddered through them and I realized my phone was buzzing. I paused and leaned against the brick wall of the restaurant and flipped open my purse. Pulling out my phone, I saw I had a missed call from Balt and a few text messages.

Are you alright?

Piper – I got a weird vibe right now. Please text me back or I’m coming there.

What the hell is going on?!

Swiftly I texted him back, letting him know I was fine and not to worry. With a huff, I went to call a cab when out of a bored sort of curiosity, I opened the app that let me know where Balt was. And vice versa. I wanted to see if Balt was at the hotel.

He wasn’t.

All other thoughts and rationalities fell away. I stared at the map, noting that Balt was down by the docks. It was almost 10 p.m.– what on earth was he doing down there?

For a second, I hesitated, knowing I could ask him when I got back. But instead, I lifted my arm for a cab and told him the address of the street closest to where Balt was.

Twenty minutes later we were pulling up to a series of dark warehouses.

“Miss, you sartin you wanna git out here?” the cabbie asked, glancing around and hunching his shoulders. “Gits a bit odd at night down here.”

“I’m trained in seven different martial arts,” I responded vaguely, handing him his money.

Outside, my heels wobbled on the pavement as I walked along the uneven cobblestones. Slipping them off, I continued barefoot, trying to sense or track where Balt was.

But the cabbie was right – this place was odd.

And a moment later, I realized why.

It was warded against the inanis. An old place of shifters where they could gather – a sort of market crossed with other vendors, like healers, fortune tellers and the like. Something that had faded out of practice in most of North America, whether for good or ill.

The market was made up of an odd assortment of small buildings like cottages and stalls. Most had cloth doorways and ropes of old-fashioned bulbs were strung overhead. Lining the walkway were lampposts and these were lit with a flame. It was a strange mix of times, here.

As I glanced around, tugging my wrap closer, my eyes landed on Lady Huna's. She was a healer, it proclaimed from the paint on the window. Charms, poultices, and fortunes.

Balt was inside.

A slow prickle of unease started along my spine as I pushed forward, staring at it. What was Balt doing here? Was he sick? Or was he meeting Lady Huna behind my back for some reason?

At that moment, a tall and broad form built like a tank ducked out of the building and came towards me. It was Balt, running a hand through his hair and looking haggard.

My jaw clenched. Guess I’m about to find out if I have to snap a couple of his fingers, too.