Chapter Nine

 

 

“Yeah?”

Prudhoe didn’t recognize the number on his phone.

“Get to the library. Korvyn just sent me an SOS text. Something’s wrong.”

Growling, Prudhoe rushed toward the door, stopping only long enough to shove his feet into his boots. He didn’t even say goodbye, just shoving the phone into his pocket. An emergency call from Korvyn’s brother Rusty was the last thing he’d expected after seeing his paramour off to his first day back at work.

What could possibly have happened? Did it have something to do with the bigoted Misses Winters? That wouldn’t be enough for Korvyn to text an SOS though, would it?

Prudhoe didn’t wait around to think on the matter. After lacing up his boots, he sprinted from his cottage. He’d been there packing his meager possessions in preparation for Korvyn stopping by that afternoon with his van.

Roaring out of his driveway, Prudhoe headed toward the library as fast as possible. He took the back roads, praying he didn’t draw the attention of the local cops. By the time he arrived, he spotted not only Rusty and Acheron there, but a number of guys he didn’t recognize.

And one guy I do. What the hell is Droitson doing here?

At least now he knew the cause of the SOS—his asshole brother.

Rusty and Acheron sat on their motorcycles. They were parked between Korvyn’s ride and where Korvyn sat with Droitson standing behind him. There was a third guy on a motorcycle with them—a steel-haired, slightly thickset man who appeared amused by whatever Droitson was saying.

Prudhoe also spotted four men nearby—two obvious couples. One was a huge black male who had his arm around the shoulders of a bronzed-skinned guy with light-tan hair. The third had such dark-brown hair it was nearly black and watched warily from his position with his arm around a much smaller man’s waist.

Droitson spotted Prudhoe as he turned into the parking lot. A cool smirk curved his brother’s lips. Keeping that look on his face and continuing to hold Prudhoe’s gaze, Droitson leaned over and pecked a kiss to Korvyn’s cheek.

Prudhoe nearly toppled his bike since he was turning to park. Good thing he was only going a few miles an hour. His brother tipped his head back and laughed at whatever Korvyn snapped at him.

When Prudhoe turned off his engine, he heard the snarls emitted by Rusty. Acheron glared, and the gray-haired male peered at Droitson with a narrow-eyed stare. Even a couple of the strangers growled.

“Let go of my fucking chair, asshole!” Korvyn yelled. He had his hands on his wheels and was attempting to pull away. Unfortunately, Droitson’s much greater fae strength easily countered his attempts.

“I told you, Korvyn. You’re coming with me.” Droitson sounded bored. Keeping his attention on Prudhoe, he stated, “You should tell your little friends that this has nothing to do with them. Fae law overrules any petty shifter sensibilities.”

That finally got a true reaction out of the gray-haired guy. “You really need to learn to watch what you say, foolish fae.” His full lips curved into a sneer. “If you hadn’t noticed”—he lifted his hand and motioned around the area—”we’re not in the fae realm.”

The light-brown-haired stranger stepped forward while the black man stuck close to his back. “At this point”—he crossed his arms over his chest, revealing thick biceps, and he gave Droitson a condescending look—”your authority is what we say it is.”

“That would be... not a damn thing,” the nearly black-haired stranger added. “Now why don’t you remove your hands from Korvyn’s chair and toddle off back home.”

“You should really do as they suggest, Droitson,” Prudhoe stated, striding slowly toward the pair. His gaze fell on Korvyn. “You okay there, Korvyn?”

“Other than your asshole brother refusing to let go of my chair, I’m grand.” Korvyn’s voice was loaded with sarcasm. “Why the fuck is he hell-bent on killing you? Just what the hell kind of falling out did you have?”

“Killing me?” Prudhoe frowned at Droitson. “Why the hell—” He paused, his jaw sagging open as the answer clicked.

“Awww, not as dumb as you look, are you?” Droitson leveled a condescending smile his way. “The big dumb oaf finally remembered about paramours and family lines.”

Prudhoe growled low in his throat as he began stalking forward. “You will not steal my paramour, Droitson. You let him go now, or I will break every bone in your body.”

“Take another step, and you won’t have a paramour to save,” Droitson warned, pulling a small dagger from under his jacket with his left hand. He pressed the edge of the blade against Korvyn’s shoulder, and the threat was clear—he would slice Korvyn’s throat.

Prudhoe froze.

“Now I didn’t want to have to do it this way, but I can see that you and your friends are going to be stubborn fuckers.” Droitson peered behind him. “Come on over, guys. Truss up my brother. We’ll do this at the family summer home.”

From around the corner of the library, four fae appeared. Prudhoe recognized them as Droitson’s bully friends. The men helped Droitson get whatever he desired. If his brother couldn’t buy what he wanted, his friends intimidated the fae until he or she gave in to his demands.

Not this fucking time.

Prudhoe knew a serval cat or a scorpion wouldn’t stand a chance against fae bullies and their magick. The group fought dirty. Not to mention, none of them could shift to their animal forms out in the open like this.

“Okay. I’ll go with you, but leave—”

“Oh, fuck no!” Korvyn snapped, frowning at Prudhoe. Then turning in his chair, he glared over his shoulder at Droitson. Even though his shoulders were tense, probably due to the prick of his brother’s dagger, he didn’t back down. “And you, I would sooner die than allow a loser like you to touch me any longer.”

To Prudhoe’s horror, Korvyn twisted and ducked, then shoved off his chair. He watched as his lover sprawled on the asphalt and began dragging himself across the ground. The scent of his blood perfumed the air... and Prudhoe reacted.

Incensed, Prudhoe roared and lunged, his arms outstretched, and he readied to wrap them around his brother’s throat. His rage coursed through him, making his reactions sluggish, and he nearly found himself gutted by Droitson’s dagger.

Shit!

Twisting in midair, Prudhoe managed to avoid most of the edge. A scrape along his upper torso was his only reminder that he had to leave emotion out of the fight. Landing between his fallen lover and his brother, he took on a defensive stance... and waited.

While Prudhoe absently noticed that the others took on Droitson’s friends, he watched his brother slowly swing the dagger between them.

“This is only delaying the inevitable,” Droitson stated cockily, stepping around the chair. “If I don’t get Korvyn now, I’ll just come back.” He cackled cruelly as he flicked a glance behind Prudhoe. “You don’t deserve a paramour. You’re nothing but a meat bag. Expendable. An arm to hold a sword and then forgotten when he’s gone.” Narrowing his eyes, Droitson continued, “Why do you think Mom and Dad sent you to warrior training as soon as you were strong enough to hold a blade. You’re—”

“And you talk too much!”

Prudhoe took a step back, pivoting just a little in the process. He spotted Korvyn on his Can-Am, probably having been helped on by Rusty, who stood next to him. But that wasn’t what had his gaze riveted. His paramour held a small pistol in his grip, and he pointed it at Droitson.

Droitson scoffed. “You won’t shoot me. Not out here in the open.”

Korvyn scowled, his expression hard. “I don’t normally take this into my job at the library, but I guess I will now. So you remember that.” Then his smile turned creepy. “And sure I will, because I got a friend on the way who can alter memories.” He jutted his chin to the left without taking his gaze off of Droitson. “You think they’d turn into lions right here in the open if we didn’t? Security footage is already being altered as we speak.”

Without warning, Korvyn lowered his weapon and pulled the trigger. A loud bang echoed through the area. Droitson roared, dropped the dagger, and reached for his lower right leg.

When blood began darkening Droitson’s dark leather leggings, Prudhoe didn’t know whether to scold Korvyn for shooting his brother... or to laugh. He chose the latter. Barking a laugh, he took complete advantage, stepped forward, and swiped out with his foot.

Prudhoe knocked Droitson’s good leg out from under him and watched with satisfaction as his brother went down. When Droitson rolled to the left with a snarl, reaching for his dropped dagger, Prudhoe let him grab it. Then he slammed his heavily booted foot onto the other fae’s wrist. Grinding his heel, Prudhoe heard a satisfying crunch, and Droitson screamed.

“I think ya’ll have made your point,” one of the strangers stated—the outspoken one with the medium-brown hair. His warm amber eyes twinkled even as he sneered down at Droitson. “We don’t appreciate assholes around here. If we ever hear of you coming back, it’ll be your head on the chopping block, even if we have to sneak into the fae realm to get it. We have friends that can do that, you see.” Narrowing his eyes, the guy leaned down and whispered, “Friends like Death and War, and they loooove a good tussle.”

Droitson’s jaw wasn’t the only one that sagged. Prudhoe couldn’t stop his own from dropping. The stranger had just insinuated that someone in the group could contact one or more of the Horsemen of the Apocalypse.

Oooookay.

More than happy to use that ammunition, Prudhoe glared at Droitson. “Now then. You and your buddies leave here and never return. If you don’t”—he paused a second for emphasis as he gave his brother a cold smile—”well, let’s just say you won’t be leaving here. Got it?”

Even though Droitson’s face was darkly flushed with his anger—and probably some pain—he still nodded.

“Good.” Prudhoe had never thought of his brother as a friend, but now he counted him as an enemy. One he would always watch for. Prudhoe removed his foot from Droitson’s wrist, then used the toe of that boot to kick away the dagger. “I hope I never see you again, brother. Have a good life in the fae realm.”

Droitson tucked his arm against his chest, then rolled awkwardly to his good knee. He looked around.

Prudhoe did the same. What he saw shocked him a little bit. There was a massive black lion crouched over two of the fallen fae. A lean, black-maned lion sat beside another. The way the cat had his canines bared obviously kept the fae from moving. Surprisingly, the last of Droitson’s buddies was staring with fear at... a massive black scorpion sitting on the head of a dark-gray pigmy hippopotamus.

Well, that’s not something you see every day.

At least now Prudhoe realized who turned into what.

Except, I still don’t know who these shifters are... or why they helped.

Fortunately, he knew that could be fixed.

Prudhoe just needed to get rid of his asshole brother first.

“So, will your friends let Droitson’s buddies up so they can carry his ass out of here?”