Ever Marked (Mystics of Mercy Ridge #1)

16. Ever

Chapter 16

Ever

T hey, in fact, did no t have what Arson was looking for. Or the next store. Or the next. I don't think he actually knows what he's looking for, but I can't even be mad because this is the most fun I've had in ages.

He’s like a kid hopped up on sugar, touching everything. “Hate it, hate it, meh, oooh!” he shouts, snatching my wrist and tugging me closer. “Come feel this one. It’s so soft.”

“Should we get it?”

“That’s a stupid question,” he scoffs. “ Of course we should get it. Make a cozy nest of all the best things so we can watch movies and eat popcorn.”

My cheeks hurt from smiling so much. “My place or yours?”

“Another silly question. Oh look! Pillows!” Running off without a backward glance, he belly flops into the display bin.

Shaking my head at his antics, I cross my arms to lean on the cardboard edge and watch him roll around as he tests out how comfy they are. “So, any luck finding your brother?“

He punches his current target into submission before promptly trading it out for a different one and huffs, “No. The ones that even open the door slam it in my face as soon as they see my ugly mug. Can’t get anyone to talk to me.”

I chuck a pillow at him. “Oh hush, you know you’re not ugly, they just don’t know you.”

A slow, wicked grin curves his lips. “If they knew me, they’d definitely run away screaming.”

I roll my eyes. “Yes, yes, you’re very scary. Do you want my help or not?”

“Always.”

“Alright then. Tomorrow, let’s meet up for coffee and we can make a plan.”

He jerks upright, grinning like a fool. “Why angel, are you asking me on a date?”

I slowly dip my head in agreement. “Maybe? Before you say yes, though, I’m going to be upfront about being in a messy situation right now. Apparently I’ve got a couple of fated mates that live next door? Fuck if I know what that means yet, but you should know what you’re signing up for. Spoiler alert, it’s drama. But I do ask that if this is just a casual thing for you and you’re dating around, that you’re honest about it and get tested regularly while we figure this shit out.”

Even if the thought of him dating anyone else makes me nauseous, I don’t really have a leg to stand on. How can I ask him not to see anyone else while I’m tied to two other men for who knows how long until we figure out how to remove their marks or if I want to be with them? That’d be unfair and hypocritical.

Doesn’t mean I have to like thinking about it though.

He sobers up instantly. “Three.”

“Three what?”

“Mates.” Holding my gaze, Arson tugs up his shirt sleeve, showing off the violent sun tattoo that’s quickly becoming the bane of my existence. Before I can articulate a response, he continues, “You were raised human, right?”

“What does that have to do with anything?”

“Because mysts do it better.” He climbs out of the pillow bin with far more grace than I could ever hope to pull off. “Nobody’s really sure why, but female supernaturals are born less frequently than men. We outnumber them about ten to one, and because of that, women typically take multiple mates. They usually tend to be born as centers because of that as well; with the occasional exception of course. I’ve seen bond groups with a male center, two female chosen, and four male chosen. An all female bond group that hired permanent security to deal with the obnoxious amount of men petitioning to join. An all male triad, and one where she has a dozen mates. But building a strong bond group offers more protection for their center and any children they may have, not to mention the financial benefits.” He shrugs. “It just makes more sense.”

“Hold the fuck up. You mean I’m expected to marry a handful of guys?” I scowl. Myles and Ledger certainly didn’t mention that tidbit last night when they told me this city was ‘safe.’ “What if I refuse?”

“Then you stay unbonded.” A shadow flashes across the bright blue of Arson’s eyes, temporarily swallowing them in darkness and making him look like the demon he claims to be. “ You hold all the power, Ever. Female centers are at the top of supernatural society no matter what kind of abilities they have, because powerful mysts will do anything to gain your favor. It’s up to us to impress you . To prove that we’d make good mates if you chose us. Some men choose to form packs so they can pool resources and invest to grow their wealth, but it’s a gamble hoping the woman they court will accept them as a package deal. Others throw themselves in strength or ability training, avoiding strong attachments because they know the center builds their bond group, and looks at every other man as competition. Some figure they’ll never be picked and don’t bother trying, focusing on their lives and possibly settling down with a human. There’s no rulebook for this sort of thing.”

“So you’re saying if I want to die an old maid, there isn’t some evil council that’s going to decree I have to marry a group of men and pop out babies as my ‘duty,’ or any archaic bullshit?”

I’ve read enough books with that plotline that it’s a valid worry now that Ledger admitted a solid chunk of books on the market are written by mysts and have some truth to them.

“There isn’t, but even if there was, I’d eviscerate them before they could lay a hand on you,” he growls, stalking closer.

I take an automatic step back. “But only because you want in my pants, right? That’s how this works?”

“No. Shit.” Arson scrubs a hand down his face with a growl. “I’m fucking this up.”

Shadows snake out and coil around my waist and leg with a cool, familiar pressure that has me narrowing my eyes. The more I think about it, the more I realize how many questions Arson’s avoided this morning about where he’s living. How he had me pick him up outside a gas station instead of his house. Glaring at anyone that looks at us too long, more possessive than a guy I’ve been texting for a week should be, and those shadow tendrils he can manipulate feel an awful lot like the ghostly touches I’m used to from Casper.

Another guy that lied to me to get what he wants. Exactly what I came here to get away from.

But the more I analyze every interaction I’ve had with ‘Casper,’ the more my initial surge of anger gradually fades. He hasn’t tried to manipulate me into anything. He unloaded my car, shadowed me on my date with Ledger, and made sure I wasn’t alone in a new city full of threats. As much as I hate to admit it… I’ve slept better than I have in years in this new house knowing Casper - Arson- was watching over me. Despite running him over, he’s been looking out for me, and in a city of horny, mate-desperate supernaturals, he’s never once tried anything creepy. I’ve never felt him in the bathroom when I was showering, or around while I was getting dressed. All he did was keep me company when I desperately needed a friend, and was there if I needed him.

If I’m right and Arson is Casper, he also made a comment this morning about finding a replacement for Ledger. I’m not sure I’m ready to touch that minefield with a thirty-nine and half foot pole.

Arson palms both of my cheeks, holding me captive while speaking earnestly. “You. Are. Precious. If you don’t accept me as one of your mates, I’ll be devastated, but I’d never walk away and leave you in danger just because my feelings were hurt. That’s not the kind of man I am. Fated mates aren’t a bad thing or a burden to manage. It means you have men that would give their left nut to stay by your side simply for the chance to prove they’d worship you the way you deserve. You hold all the power here, Ever. You could reject us all and move on to pick new mates, but no other center will spare us a second glance now that we bear your mark, not that I’d care if they did. You’re it for me, angel; you’ve ruined me for anyone else.”

His throat bobs. “I’m already yours, Ever. You just need to decide what you want to do with me.”

The utter certainty in his tone throws me for a loop. I just don’t get it. Why would anyone be that completely devoted to someone so quickly unless they saved their life or something? I almost killed the guy, he should hate me, not consider it foreplay. But I have to admit it’s a heady feeling, having a demon as dangerous as Arson look at me like I’m his entire world. A girl could get addicted to that feeling.

This is what I wanted; to put down roots. Nothing says permanent like matching tattoos.

Even if I ended things now, it would hurt. And if he’s telling the truth… I can walk away at any time. So I might as well dive in headfirst and enjoy the ride for as long as it lasts.

“You don’t do anything by halves, do you?” Taking his hand, I drag him out of the store as I see a scowling employee heading our way.

“Au contrairé, I actually sliced a man in half a couple of years back,” he counters unabashedly. “Ten out of ten, don’t recommend. They die way too quickly, and the mess simply isn’t worth it.”

I shake my head in amusement as we leave the store. “You’re ridiculous.”

“Nah, I just get bored easily. You know what they say.” In his free hand, he casually rolls a knife through his fingers, holding the gaze of a few men staring our way as we pass by them on the sidewalk. “Idle hands are the devil’s plaything.”

The strangers conveniently find something else to look at.

Neither of us talk for a while as we wander down the street, but I appreciate the comfortable silence to regroup. I’m no stranger to rolling with the punches; getting all of your stuff shoved into a garbage bag and dropped in a new home in the middle of the night a few times really drives that lesson home. But the last few days have been a lot, even by my standards. The more I think about it, though, the less upset I am at all of the revelations. If anything, I’m actually kind of… relieved.

There’s a legitimate reason I’ve never really fit in anywhere, no matter how hard I tried. Since moving here, though, it’s been as easy as breathing. Natural. Mercy Ridge feels like the home I’ve been searching for my entire life.

But is it the town, or the three men wearing my mark that live here?

A crash jolts me out of my thoughts, and Arson tugs me to a halt a couple shops down from the bookstore. We share a look. “Think someone’s robbing the place, or a bookshelf fell on them and they’re slowly bleeding out?” Arson asks, raising an eyebrow.

“Option C, they just got fired and rage flipped their desk,” I counter.

“Maybe if we’re lucky, they’ll torch the place next.”

“How does that make us lucky?”

“Isn’t it obvious?” He beams, pointing at himself. “You like arson, and we’ll have a front row seat!”

Snorting, I tug him into motion. “That was terrible. Come on, let’s go check it out.”

“Might’ve been terrible, but you’re still holding my hand,” he says smugly. “You want to keep me.”

I roll my eyes, hiding a small smile. Arson’s a breed of his own, I’ll give him that. But he certainly keeps things interesting.

He steps through the door first, using his body as a shield while I peek around him to find Myles sitting in a chair next to an overturned coffee table in some sort of lobby, surrounded by three strangers. They haven’t seen us creep in yet, and one of the assholes looming over Myles says, “Heard she's your neighbor. Come on man, you must know something that can give us a leg up.”

Another chimes in, “It’s not like you’ve got a chance with her, and you know it. So help us out, we’ll make it worth your while. Here.” The blonde guy pulls out his wallet, tossing a couple of twenties on the floor between them.

These motherfucking assholes.

Arson vibrates with fury, but before he can launch himself across the room, I put a hand on his arm, silently asking him to back down. I’ve dealt with enough bullies over the years to know that if Arson kicks their asses, they’ll just take out their embarrassment-fueled rage on Myles the next time they catch him alone to save face, and will make it ten times worse for him. And even if Myles stands up to them now, it’s three on one. So it looks like we’re going with plan C.

“Babe!” Striding across the room without sparing the jackasses a glance, I slide onto Myles's lap. Threading my fingers through his messy auburn hair, I capture his lips in a fierce kiss. I follow his sharp intake of breath with my tongue, encouraging him to play along. An electric thrill runs through my body as he tentatively kisses me back, the hand on my hip tightening while the other slides up my arm to cup my jaw. While it started as simply for show, he isn’t the only one breathless when I eventually put a hand to his chest, reluctantly pulling away and smiling at him. “Did you finish early today after all? Ready to head home?”

The dazed look in his eyes as he stares at me, stunned, does fantastic things for my self-esteem. “Y-yeah. I just need to lock up.” The telltale hard outline of his cock presses against the back of my thighs . As in plural . As discreetly as I can, I squirm on his lap to make sure I’m not imagining things, but when it twitches, Myles tightens his grip with a pained hiss, forcing me to sit still and confirm my theory.

You’d think Myles would be far more confident since he’s apparently hung like a horse. If I had a dick that size, I’d be a menace.

Arson kicks off of the doorway he’s been leaning against. “I can help take care of that.” Without breaking a sweat, his shadows whip out around him, latching onto the three assholes and flinging them out onto the curb like yesterday’s trash. “Store’s closed, later losers.” Flipping the lock, the deadbolt slides into place with an audible click that makes my heart skip a beat.

“So, angel.” Arson prowls toward me slowly, eyes locked on mine as he rests a hand on the back of Myles’s chair, caging me in between the two of them. “Who’s your friend?”

I cringe, guilt hitting me hard as I gesture between them. “Arson, meet Myles, my…” I trail off, not really sure where we stand. Potential mate? Neighbor? Guy whose face I just molested? “Myles, this is Arson. My-”

“Right hand man.” Arson’s eyes narrow on Myles’s face. “Bodyguard, boyfriend, someone to slit the throats of whoever touches her. Whatever she needs, it’s my job to take care of it.”

The blood drains from Myles’s face. “N-nice to meet you.” Realizing his hand is still on my hip, he yanks it off like I burned him, holding them both up in surrender. “I’m so sorry, I -”

Arson's eyes widen and he stares at him, lips parting in surprise. “Wait. Myles Evergreen ?”

“Umm, yeah.” Myles fidgets with his glasses. “Not sure what you’ve heard about me, but I swear-”

A massive grin splits Arson’s face. “I finally found you!” In a flash, he scoops us both up out of the chair, swinging us around with a laugh. Finally setting us back on our feet, Arson refuses to let go as he looks down at me with a raised eyebrow. “Our first date and you kiss my brother? I'm feeling a little jealous here, angel.”

Myles frowns. “What the heck are you talking about? I don’t have a brother.”

Arson stares down at them. “Your parents are Vaughn and Aria Evergreen, right? Bought you twenty-three years ago in a less-than-legal deal at Beelzebar, and passed you off as their own child to avoid the investigation that an adoption would bring?”

Eyes widening, his mouth parts. “How did you…?”

Arson’s lips twists in a wry smile. “Our parents told me about it right before I killed them.”