Scorpion
FIVE MONTHS AFTER THE WAR
“Az istenit!” Dammit. I grabbed my friend’s shirt, trying to get him off the ground. “Mi a fasz van veled?” What the fuck is wrong with you?
“Get him the hell out of here!” the bartender yelled at me, his face red, his stature telling me he might be half giant or something. “He’s not welcome back!”
“Good job, asshole.” I went to grab his arm again. “Barred yourself from another place.”
“Nyasgem!” Fuck off!
I glowered at the tree fairy—the man who used to be the voice of reason and the solid ground under all our feet.
“Ash.” I gritted my teeth, my patience very thin lately.
“You are making it really hard for me not to kick your ass myself.” I leaned over him; he reeked of alcohol and opium.
“Now get up.” I pulled on his arm. This time he didn’t fight me, his body barely able to stand on his own feet.
It seemed Warwick and I were constantly on babysitting duty with him.
Picking him off a bar, brothel, or drug den floor.
Most of the time bloody and black and blue from whatever fight he got into.
“Ash, I’m not carrying you.” I put his arm around my shoulders, his feet barely helping me get him out of the pub. The cool night air filled my lungs the moment we stepped outside. The final throes of spring were shaking off, heading into summer.
“I’m finnnneee,” he slurred, pushing me away.
“Fine?” I snorted, his eyes half-lidded from being drunk, high, and beat up. “You are fuckin’ mess, man.”
“Fuck off.” He shoved me, stumbling back, anger lining his forehead. “I don’t need you.”
“Looks like it.” I watched him weave, his fingers pulling out a joint, struggling to light it.
“No.” I plucked it from his mouth, crunching it under my boot.
“Fuck you!” Ash bellowed. “You can’t tell me what to do.”
“Someone needs to!” My temper flared. I knew Ash was hurting.
Fuck, we all were, but this was getting out of control.
At first, we all thought he just needed time, but it had been over five months, and Ash was only getting worse, turning on those who loved him and burning bridges he could never repair.
“I know you are going through shit,” I growled, feeling all the burdens I was carrying lately.
“But we all are. Stop thinking of only yourself.”
His lids narrowed, his mouth opening to respond.
“No,” I barked. “I’ve had enough. We all have.
Now it’s time to get your shit together.
You’re pushing away all the people who fucking care about you.
You think you’re the only one who hurts?
Who misses them? Who is suffering?” I stomped closer to him, my disgust moving over him.
“I have my girl at home, tearing herself apart because of what was forced upon her. Unsure of what she will become, what will happen to her. Stop being so fucking selfish and look around and see you aren’t the only one in pain. ”
Ash’s lips turned down, his feet unstable, but his demeanor didn’t change. No indication I was even speaking to him.
I scoffed, my head shaking. “Look at yourself. Drunk, high, and belligerent. Who are you, man? You think they’d be proud of you?” I motioned down to him.
“Screw you.” Ash shoved at my chest, but he only tripped himself backward.
“No, Ash, you are only screwing yourself.” Damn, when I was the voice of reason over Ash, something was terribly wrong.
“I’m done. You can pick yourself up or not.
But when you find you’ve destroyed every relationship and cut off everyone you love, you only have yourself to blame.
” I turned, stomping away, my own temper about to get the better of me.
I’d hit my limit of retrieving him, cleaning up his puke, and tossing his unconscious ass on my sofa, with only anger and resentment being given back.
Yeah, I was done. I had enough shit to worry about.
Warwick and I had taken on the distribution of alcohol to Kitty’s, which was flourishing, and getting us more clients in Carnal Row.
It was all legit and above board, but I wouldn’t lie and say there weren’t some deals being made.
Nothing considered illegal per se. We were getting busier each day.
The demand for alcohol was never a waning commodity.
Though hope was trickling back into this city, fear of the unknown had people turn to comforts.
Turn to something to ease the worry. To let them escape.
Places like Carnal Row would never go away. This world was always changing, going through wars, death, diseases, and heartache since the beginning of time. People would always need an outlet.
Weaving through the streets, you noticed all the construction and places being rebuilt.
Grocery stores, pharmacies, bakeries, and even a few restaurants and clothing shops were popping up throughout Savage Lands.
Killian had declared it District VII again, putting this whole area back into districts as it once was, but I think it will always be Savage Lands to us.
Too much blood, sorrow, and death marred these streets.
Our population had taken a hit after so many died under Istvan and Sonya, so many dying in the war fighting for this land, but I had heard rumors we were getting floods of immigrants from other countries, wanting a better life for their families, seeing Hungary as the land of hope and prosperity.
And President Killian welcomed them all.
I crossed into the old Leopold area, the scar from the old wall engrained in the pavement.
I took the stairs up to my flat. Brexley wanted us close, and with Hanna, I felt she needed all the reminders of love and family she could get.
Though the memories of her parents probably plagued her more than she claimed being back here.
I could feel Brexley, the sensation always shimmering around me.
It would always be there. It was something we would live with, becoming such a part of me, and if anything happened to her or it, I would lose my shit.
She saved my life. She led me right to my mate, but because we had this connection, Brex and I were trying to put up some boundaries.
I didn’t want her coming in on me and Hanna, and I was done being pulled into her and Warwick’s endless sex marathons.
Though I won’t deny a few times with Hanna, the connection, their energy, and “influence” were times I wouldn’t mind repeating.
I barreled through the door to an apartment that made me itch. The decor was champagne and caviar, and I was tattoos, motorcycles, and kinky sex.
The lights were off, and the enormous windows facing the old HDF building were the only thing lighting up the space.
Silence filled the four-bedroom flat.
“Hanna?” I slammed the door. A flutter hit my chest, something feeling off. “Hanna?” I moved through the living room to our bedroom, my throat closing in. She had good days and bad days, and then she had really bad days.
The good days, my gods, there was nothing better than to see her smile and laugh.
She turned me into a fool . . . in a good way.
I couldn’t even hide or deny the fact I was so fucking in love with this woman.
She had me utterly and completely. She was strong, funny, smart, and fucking wicked in bed.
Responsive and willing to push limits with me.
She let the wildcat side of her free, like she accepted it.
Liked it. And damn . . . we could get extremely feral.
I had never spent an entire day and night with someone and then miss them the moment we parted.
I even had her come on some of my business jobs because I didn’t want to be away from her.
She was an excellent partner and usually talked them into buying more from me.
Then there were the bad days, the melancholy, heartbreaking, sad moments. She’d stare blankly out the window toward where her parents used to live. She drifted around aimlessly as if she couldn’t find her place. Those broke my heart, but it was the really bad times that destroyed me.
She was frantic and almost unhinged. Her emotions over what she suffered and her fears of what she was turning into scared her so much that she lost herself. One time I found her using her new clawed fingers she now could shift into as blades against her wrists.
That did it for me. She scared me so much that I knew she needed help. I forced her to see a therapist-healer after that. It was slow, but I noticed the good days were starting to outweigh the bad ones, but I always had that fear she would slide backward.
“Hanna!” I bellowed, jogging into the bedroom we shared, my gaze scanning the dark room, spotting her standing at the floor to ceiling window, staring out the window, lost in her world.
My hand went to my chest, relief heaving from my lungs, taking a moment to recognize she was okay.
“Hanna?” I said her name, walking to her. Her head jerked to me as if she finally realized I was there, her face streaked with tears. “You didn’t respond.” My heart still pounded in my chest with terror. The idea of losing her . . . that wasn’t something I could live with.
“Sorry.” She folded her arms, sniffing, her feet knocking at the things on the rug surrounding her. It was a box full of pictures and trinkets. Bending over, I picked one up, my chest locking up.
It was an image of Hanna when she was in her early teens with her parents. All smiles and happiness, a Christmas tree behind them, and I noticed all the family pictures and small items spread around her feet.
“I went over there today.” Her voice was raw from crying.
“Little viper.” I drew her into my arms, feeling her chest heave against mine. “Why didn’t you call me? I would have been there.”
“I needed to do it by myself.” She pulled back, wiping her eyes. “I needed to say goodbye.”
My hands glided up her jaw, my thumbs wiping away her tears, my chest aching for her.
“You know it’s never goodbye; they will always be with you.” The sentiment flowed out, sounding very unlike me, but Hanna had turned me into a man with hope.
“I know.” She cleared her throat. “But it was time to say goodbye to that life. To not stay trapped in the past because it was safe.” She peered up at me, her hand sliding over mine.
“I don’t know what my future will entail, if I’ll become completely feral, or if I will even be alive in a few years. ”
My muscles clenched at her words.
“I’m not okay right now.” Her blue eyes filled with liquid.
“But I think I will be. You fought so hard for me, and I want to fight for you. I want to move forward. Try to accept what I am.” Though she never could fully embrace it outside our group.
There was too much hate, prejudice, and fear of what she was.
The faux-fae were not accepted. Maybe Hanna could change that, but I wasn’t willing to have her be the test subject. “I want to start healing.”
Emotion expanded from my lungs up my throat. I leaned over, claiming her mouth with mine, kissing her with everything I had. It wasn’t wild or rough. It was handing my heart to her on a platter.
I inched her back to the bed, kicking off my boots. I laid her down, crawling in next to her, holding her to me.
“I’m not going anywhere, little viper. Whatever it takes, and whatever happens, we will figure it out together.”
“I’m still gonna have good and bad days.”
“So will I.” I kissed her nose. “Just don’t ever do anything which takes you away from me, okay?”
She bowed her head, ashamed of the day she tried to harm herself.
“That I promise you.”
“Oh, watch what you say, sweetheart. That shit is binding now.”
A smile grew on her face, her fingers trailing up my jaw, pulling herself a breath from me.
“Good.” She kissed me, my soul feeling everything she gave. “I love you, Scorpion.”
I inhaled sharply, our gazes meeting for a moment before my mouth claimed hers as mine. I rolled her slowly onto her back. “I love you too, little viper.”
I had no idea what was ahead of us. My focus was on tracking down Joska and Samu, but not to kill them like the others wanted. I wanted to watch them, study them so I could prepare for what lay in wait for Hanna.
As I entered her, slow and deep, our moans mixing, I knew there was nothing in this world I wouldn’t do for her.
Nothing I wouldn’t hunt, kill, or track down to protect her.
My woman had claws and fangs, but if anything came at her, they would feel the deadly sting of a scorpion.