Chapter 6 - Fates, Fins, and Fangs

DEREK WHITE SLID OUT of his sleek black Mercedes and gently shut the door. Pausing at the curb, he took a deep breath and straightened his already immaculate black Zegna suit and tie. Then he made his way to the old brick row building that held the bookstore. He loved that his growing city could still boast something as old-fashioned and endearing as a used book shop. The bells above the door tinkled in a way that he usually found quaint and charming. But today the noise seemed custom-made in the depths of hell to get on his last nerve. He very consciously did not slam the door. Flying into a rage never helped anything. One didn't win wars by waging needless battles.

He was having a very hard time maintaining his usual icy calm these days. It was embarrassing in a creature his age.

He drew in another deep breath, scenting books and dust, incense, and the unique scents of the people who worked here or lived in the apartment above. His eyes traveled upward, as if he could see through the ceiling and pin the assholes above him with his gaze.

It was irritating, at times, having to function on the human plane with its soft rules and boundaries. Devouring your rivals was a much easier, if somewhat messy, way to go about things.

"Are you lost?" a flat, dry alto voice asked, breaking off his murderous thoughts.

He glanced to the counter to find his gryphon enforcer staring at him with an expression meant to convey her blatant disrespect. Her irritation warmed the cockles of his heart. "I need you to explain to me why murder is frowned upon in this plane," he said evenly, hanging his wool coat on the rack by the door with meticulous care.

Gesa rolled her eyes and finished with whatever she was doing to the books by the register. "You're such an asshole."

He strode across the old, well-loved hardwood floor and past the counter, the gryphon trailing along after him with a put-upon sigh. As he made his way to her office and sank into one of the antique wingback chairs there, she followed. "Your secretary already gave me my new assignment," she muttered. "And it's the third one in a fucking week, thanks so much. He just left. Maybe you can catch up to him if you hurry."

He leveled a glare at the wonderfully exasperating woman. "I'm not looking for my secretary, Miss Lionheart. And I don't care about the damnable job!"

She raised one blond brow at him and crossed her arms, not so subtly flexing her well-developed muscles. Gryphons. They always fell back on physical intimidation when they were feeling threatened or uneasy. He smiled sweetly at her, watching her shift subtly to plant her feet more solidly in preparation for a fight. Even though she knew full well he could tear her in half without even trying.

"Such noble creatures, gryphons," he said, his smile stretching wider.

She narrowed her eyes at him and dropped her arms to her side, trying to look like she wasn't on edge. Taking the act one step further, she crossed to her desk and sank down into her leather office chair. "What do you want, White. I've got shit to do."

He arched an eyebrow. "It has come to my attention that your little sea-dwelling project has decided to...date Troya."

She stared right back at him, arching her own eyebrow in imitation of his expression. "So?"

He breathed through his nose, trying to resist the urge to yell. He didn't own the girl, no matter what his instincts said on the matter. "I thought I made it clear to you and all your...family, that her exposure to supernatural things should be limited."

She shook her head sadly. "You're a mess, White."

He was not a mess. He jerked the lapels of his suit coat straight, then smoothed a hand over the exquisite handmade fabric. "I am simply trying to keep her safe. She's better off not knowing about the non-human world. She's...fragile now."

Gesa scoffed...scoffed, at him. "You're trying to keep her close because you're hoping she'll somehow magically remember you. It's weird." Her eyes softened. "And sad, Derek." The usually gruff alpha gryphon's voice was gentle. "You need to either tell her, or let her live her life. This creepy hovering is getting old. And it can't be good for your sanity."

Derek stood slowly, shoulders back and head up. "I do not need you to fear for my sanity, Miss Lionheart. I simply need you to follow orders and keep your mutts and misfits in line."

She blinked up at him, her face taking on a slightly flushed color that never meant anything good. Fine. He was more than willing to indulge her need for a fight. He was hoping for it, in fact. He needed a good fight right now. "Well," she said, standing. "Someone needs to look out for your sanity, you fucking asshole. Just tell her the truth or fuck off!"

He moved into her space, staring the tall woman in the eye as he hissed out. "She is mine! She's not a simple human, to be used by every rutting supe male who crosses her path."

The gryphon laughed in his face. "Do you even hear yourself right now, White? Psycho."

He often wanted to strangle his best friend, but this time the urge was almost too much to resist. He put his hands on her shoulders and squeezed. "I saw her out on the street with that orphan of yours. I...can't lose her yet," he ground out. "Not so soon."

She bared her teeth at him for the physical contact, but then she relented and let out a sigh. "Is that what this is all about? You don't care if she hooks up with random humans, because you're sure it will never last. But if she falls in love with another supe, you might just have to do the sane thing and let go, right? A supe feels like more of a threat to you and your supe side."

He snarled and spun away, wanting to kill something. "Aren't friends supposed to offer advice in these situations?"

Gesa threw up her hands and went back to her desk. "I've already given you advice. You just don't listen."

He paced across the room and ran his finger over a collection of cheap knick-knacks...and one authentic medieval flail. It probably belonged to her fae. "Your advice is appallingly useless," he huffed. He was hoping she'd have something new to say. Not the same inane yammering that he'd heard countless times before. She didn't understand the situation, not really. Growling, he picked up the flail, pulled back his arm, and sank the weapon into the pristine drywall, wishing it was someone's head.

"You mother fucker," the gryphon said, without any true anger. "Go ruin your own damned stuff, you jackass."

A soothing energy fell over the room, and he rolled his shoulders, trying to get a better grip on his anger and frustration.

"Mister White," a soft, gentle voice said into the weighted atmosphere of the room. "Embedding antique weapons into walls is not generally accepted as a way to show friendship in the human realm."

His secretary, Orion, appeared beside him, soft, caramel-colored hair falling over one side of his face to hide his ruined beauty. He placed a gloved hand on the handle of the flail and pulled it from the wall with a strength most wouldn't believe from someone so slight. He gave Derek a small, calming smile. Then he turned and deposited the weapon back on the shelf where it had been resting.

Derek inhaled deeply, drinking in the calming magic that Orion exuded. Then he turned back to his gryphon friend. "This drywall needs to be replaced," he said evenly. "I'll send a crew to take care of that. Perhaps you should consider adding a recessed safe while they're at it. Some weapons storage would be a good idea."

She just shook her head at him. "You're such an asshole."

He smiled, somehow feeling more himself.

Orion let out a barely audible chuff of laughter and raised a brow at the gryphon, giving her an apologetic look. "Please forgive my employer, Gesa. He's not feeling quite himself of late." A muscle twitched at the corner of his one visible eye.

Derek gritted his teeth together. "I'm fine."

Orion and Gesa gave him twin looks of wry disbelief.

He huffed. "I'm serious about the safe. The renters need to be armed. Surely, you've heard the stirrings of unrest lately. The violence that's been popping up in the bigger cities."

Gesa nodded, her mouth drawing downward in a grim line. "Yeah. Does this have anything to do with what you told me, before? About the hardships you insist are coming our way?"

He closed his eyes and swallowed hard, trying to get a handle on the damned anger. The fear. It was a useless emotion. "Perhaps."

When he opened his eyes again, he made himself focus. "Make sure you wrap up your current job as soon as you can. I want every vaguely hostile supe out of this town, as soon as possible."

Orion picked up the folder he'd apparently come back to retrieve from Gesa's desk. He met Derek's eyes, and though his expression didn't change, Derek knew the other man was just as worried as he was. "I'm sure Miss Lionheart will do her job," his secretary said softly. "Just as she always does."

He lifted a gloved hand to touch Derek's forearm, then hastily drew away. "And the matter with Miss Troya will sort itself out, eventually."

Derek nodded. "Of course. I've been...rather foolish of late." He met Gesa's eyes, unable to really relay to her how much he needed to know she and her family were looking after the girl.

But he needn't have worried. Difficult and obtuse as she sometimes chose to be, Gesa was his friend. And that term had meaning here in this plane. "You know we won't let anything happen to her," the gryphon said seriously. "I...you know I can't fully know what you're going through. But I know how I would feel if one of my mates were in danger and I was feeling helpless to protect them." She shrugged. "At least if she's dating a supe, you'll know she always has backup. Chike is stronger than you give him credit for. He can be downright cold-blooded when he needs to be." She shrugged. "And there isn't much that could get past Rhys. You know that. That's why you let him rent a room here to begin with right?"

Derek's blood suddenly boiled. "Rhys? What does that leach have to do with this?"

But he could see it in the way Gesa's eyes momentarily widened. As if she was berating herself for her accidental slip. The irritating blond parasite had made a move on the girl as well. He snarled as he turned away toward the hall. "I will fucking kill him."

Orion was there, blocking his path. The smaller man reached out to place a gloved hand in the center of his chest. The mere fact that he would risk touching his employer was an indication of how worried he was. "Please, Sir," he whispered. "Calm yourself."

Just then, Derek caught the sense of a rainbow aura and that sweet, almost metallic scent. He clenched his fists and pushed past his concerned secretary, stepping into the hall just as the blond pain in his ass came down the hall, headed toward the stairs.

"Oh!" Rhys said with fake surprise, giving him a teasing smile that held too many teeth. The man had to have sensed Derek's aura from upstairs. "I didn't realize you were visiting, Mr. White. How are you today?"

Derek slammed into the other man, pushing him up against the wall with his own body. "I warned you before. I won't repeat myself," he said, in a low whisper.

The stupid, cocky thing just smiled, a challenge twinkling in his citrine eyes as he leaned in to whisper in his ear. "What's the matter, Satan? Afraid of a little friendly competition?"

Derek wrapped his fingers around the man's throat and squeezed, just enough to get his point across. Rhys might be unstoppable to anyone else. But Derek could end him.

The blond just put his hands on Derek's hips and grinned. "Ooh. Neck play. My favorite."

Derek snarled at him, then roughly tossed him aside. "Disgusting." He wiped his hands on his pants, as if trying to rid himself of the memory of the man's skin against his, even as the dark power in him insisted they take him up on his blatant offer. "Don't try my patience. Keep your powers—and all of your other body parts—to yourself, or I will throw you to the hunters."

The infuriating man just straightened his t-shirt and sauntered to the stairs, unconcerned with his impending death. "Always a pleasure to see you, Mr. White. I'll tell Troya you stopped by."

"Derek," Orion's soft voice said, a warning lingering in the dulcet tones. "Not the time or place."

He whirled to the shorter man. "What are you even still doing here? Don't you have enough work to do? Or should I find more for you?"

Orion pressed his lips together to hide his displeasure and bowed. "Of course, Sir. I was just on my way out."

He followed the man slowly, Gesa trailing along behind. When he turned to bid her farewell, the gryphon was silently laughing at him.

"What the devil is your problem?" he snapped.

She just grinned at him. "One of these days, all that gross posturing is going to turn into the most violent sex I've ever seen. If you fuck him in my bookstore and contaminate the one place I hold dear, I will put a bullet in your head for real, White. Don't fucking tempt me."

He rolled his eyes at her stupidity. "I do believe you've hit your head one too many times in the line of duty, Miss Lionheart," he said as he took up his coat and exited the shop. "You might want to see a doctor. Or a psychologist."