Spark of Intent Read online

  “You really talked to all of them?”

  “Absolutely. I consider all of them my grandsons and I have made sure to be there for the important events for each of them. As well as to embarrass them at opportunities convenient for me.” His eyes twinkled as he tapped the tips of his fingers together. I wondered if this was where Ryder had learned some of his antics. I didn’t think I had ever seen an adult who was this much of a playful troublemaker. “My boys are welcoming you into our family, so I consider it my job to treat you in the same manner.” He pushed to a standing position, grabbed another cookie, and sent me a wink. “Fair warning. I’ll see you at the Gala, Nix. Don’t worry. I know this world seems complicated at the moment, and it is—there’s no getting around that. Stick to my boys; ask questions when you have them. You’ll find your place or you’ll carve one out for yourself. I have no doubt.” With a smile and a wave he headed for the door, leaving me to only gape in his direction. I could never predict what that man was going to say or do next.

  Fifteen

  Killian

  Crimson. It was all I saw when I looked down. The warm, sticky essence of blood coated my body. Stinging pain slashed across my chest. My surroundings were unfamiliar, and and all I saw when I looked around were flames and feathers. The image cracked as the feeling of fire licked along my body. The world tilted. Hot, orange flickering flames covered the ground, searing my skin with heat. Tendrils of darkness grabbed ahold, nearly choking me as much as the thick, grey smoke was. The breath was stolen straight from my lungs. The world tilted again as I struggled. I fought, trying to get free, but there was no escape. Pain pounded in my head, but a whispered touch smoothed over my forehead. Dark red hair and a familiar face emerged from the darkness that was closing in. My brother? I tried to focus through the agony but the vision shattered like glass upon impact. Color leached from the broken shards, the pieces already disintegrating away to nothing as I lost myself in the inky blackness.

  Frustration gripped me as I tossed and turned, the silky sheets of my bed twining around my legs and trapping them in a twisted prison. Fractured vestiges of dreams lingered just out reach, and I strained to grasp the wispy tendrils that eluded me as I woke up.

  No! Not again. I squeezed my eyes tighter, trying to drag myself under again, praying for sleep so that I could work to make sense of the disjointed vision that never fully materialized. The pieces I remembered refused to fit together into one cohesive picture, and I growled as it disappeared completely.

  I jolted upright in bed at the feeling of that soothing hand on my forehead again. Ripping my eyes open, I found my brother looming over my bed, his hand hovering over my face.

  “What the fuck are you doing?” The growl that escaped my throat in the form of words warned of impending violence. “Why the hell were you in my dream?” His interference had lost me the vision, his touch pulling me into consciousness. I saw red. Something in my soul told me that unsettling vision was important, and if the fiery feathers I’d seen belonged to Nix, then I needed to decode the fucking thing immediately.

  I propped myself up in bed, digging my hands into my russet red hair.

  For once, my brother didn’t joke with me. “You’re not paying attention Killian.” His tone was dark, serious, and scolding.

  “What the fuck are you even talking about?” My green eyes were hard and assessing. All he’d done so far was interfere in my life and distract me and my brothers with his nonsense, mental songs, and static, yet I was the one who wasn’t paying attention?

  “Everything about you is blocked, and yet you don’t even realize it. This isn’t just about you anymore.” I scoffed in response, and he clenched his hands into fists, an outward display of some of the frustration I felt. He started pacing as he ranted. “You have a family and a mate now, and their safety is your responsibility.”

  “You think I don’t know that? Why do you think I was trying to stay in that vision!” I spat, shrugging the sheets free. I stood, my grey boxers on display to the world. Stooping, I quickly donned a pair of sweats and straightened, as battle ready as I was going to get. “I’m done with your cryptic shit, Ciar. What are you talking about? If you have something to say to me… just say it.” The pieces of the dream played through my mind, and all I wanted to do was grab my drawing pad and get every last detail onto paper so I could try to make sense of it all. Ciarán’s oddly serious tirade was delaying my process.

  Spinning back to me, his jade green eyes hardened. “You’re putting your mate at risk.”

  “What am I doing to put her at risk?” I wanted to throw my hands into the air, but I kept still, the muscles in my arms bunching as I debated throttling Ciarán and bodily removing him from my room.

  “The Council—”

  “I don’t give a flying fuck about politics!” The outburst flew from my lips, and I dug the heels of my palms into my eyes. I was exhausted, worried, and wrung out.

  “The Council and their politics are exactly what you need to be worried about and paying attention to. Open your eyes. Don’t miss what’s right under your nose.” I watched him storm from my room. Confusion clouded my head as an ache started up behind my eyes. I heard the front door open and slam downstairs and winced at the early hour of the morning.

  Groaning, I plodded to my desk and retrieved my brushes, paints, and canvas paper.

  Opening the sketchbook, I flipped past the last painting I’d done. The warm colors of sunshine and sand looked happier in comparison to what I was about to draw. Just one more landscape that made no sense. With a fresh piece of paper in front of me, I let the brushes stroke inelegantly across the page as I worked to recall any details I could. I wasn’t a talented artist, but artistry wasn’t the point of this exercise. Blood, darkness, pain; for the next hour, I worked to draw the fragments. By the time I finished, my fingers were stained the colors of the paints.

  Three distinct images lay before me in varying shapes and colors—though most of the paper was smeared in blacks, greys, reds, and oranges. No matter how I rearranged the images on my desk, I had no more information than I had when I was living the vision.

  I sat on the bed, hung my hands between my knees, and dropped my head. What good was I to the team—to my brothers and my mate—if I couldn’t even figure out how to use my powers? I was being shown something yet I had no power to decipher the images so that I could prevent, or protect.

  My head spun with my exhaustion. I rarely had a restful night sleep, but nights when the visions came particularly plagued me.

  Anger simmered in my blood, and the need to take action rode me hard. I didn’t know what the vision was trying to show me, so there were no counter measures for me to take to circumvent the little I had seen. Jumping up from the bed, I stalked out of my room and down two flights of stairs to the basement.

  In the center of the darkened room hung the punching bag Damien and I had installed when we’d first been gifted the house by the Council. Flipping on the light, I made a beeline for the bag and let a punch fly. The punching bag swung, lurching backwards before heading right for me. I let my aggression out on the padded material. Grunting, punch after punch thudded into the bag.

  I was no good for her. What did she want with a broken shifter like me? I knew she thought my bunny was adorable, but what good was I to my brothers in that form? What good was I to anyone in that form?

  My Puca thumped loudly in my head, unhappy with the turn of my musings, but I simply pushed him into the background as I worked out. Sweat and sore muscles were as close to a cure as I was going to get.

  I cared so much about Nix, and yet I felt like I had nothing to offer her. Kissing her ran through my mind and my heart swelled while my punches grew more lethal. If anyone so much as spilled a drop of her blood in the future, there’d be hell to pay!

  I stopped, breathing heavily as sweat dotted my forehead. I cracked my neck and swung my arms while I took a break. Ciarán had said that I needed to be watching the Council. Wh
at was his deal, anyway? What did he know? And why would he warn me? What had he meant when he said I was risking my mate and my family? Why did nothing in this goddamn world make any sense right now?

  Frustrated, I dropped to the floor and did as many pushups as my body could handle, trying to wear myself down. The only way to persuade the visions to return was through sleep, and if I needed to sleep then I needed to be bone fucking weary.

  More than a full workout routine later and I was begging my legs to climb the two flights of stairs back toward my room.

  Hot water poured over my head as I showered off the sweat from the workout. The house was fully awake already, but I hadn’t joined them. I’d simply given them a nod on my way past. They knew enough not to mess with me when my ire was up. My power of precognition was often a sore spot, throwing me into a lousy mood whenever I couldn’t grasp what my gift was trying to show me.

  A few minutes later I crashed—hard—into the softness of my mattress. As sleep claimed me, I sent a plea into the universe, wishing with everything I had that the vision would return—this time in full.

  Sixteen

  Nix

  “You’re a fucking idiot!” Killian’s booming voice jerked me from the book I had been absorbed in. I slid the headphones from my ears, tossing my book onto the bedspread and heading for the door. At the sound of more raised voices, I froze for a moment, considering staying where I was while they worked out whatever their issue was.

  “Suck it up, Nix,” I murmured, taking a deep breath as I ducked from the room and headed down the stairs. I hated yelling, but I wasn’t going to let them keep fighting if there was something I could do to help.

  “You stupid bastard!” Killian’s roar didn’t seem to be dimming in intensity as I approached the kitchen.

  “You’re both assholes. Why the hell do you keep fucking up my kitchen?” Damien’s voice was nearly as loud as Killian’s, exasperation clear in every word. The three were squared off around the kitchen table, glaring at each other. Two bags of chips were open and scattered across the tabletop, and a cup of coffee was spilled, dripping down the table leg from the overturned cup. It looked as if one of them had simply swiped their arm across the table, knocking down everything in their way.

  “At least I’m not a goddamn leprechaun!” Ryder’s voice snapped out like a whip, harsh and cold though not quite as loud as Killian’s was. Killian attempted to lunge over the table at Ryder, who just slipped away with a sneer. “Too slow, bunny boy. Maybe you need some lessons.”

  “You’re being a wanker, Kill. Just leave him be.” Theo’s dry voice drew my eyes to where he stood in the corner, rubbing his forehead. “I’ve had enough of this. I’m going upstairs. If you’re going to kill each other don’t get blood on the floor. I don’t want the kitchen smelling like bleach.” He pushed past me, shaking his head. His hair stood up in spikes from where his fingers had delved through it, and his glasses sat askew on his nose. Briefly, he patted me on the shoulder, as if wishing me good luck while I faced down the trio left on the main floor.

  “What’s going on?” Three sets of eyes zoomed in on me, all of them heated and irritated. I tried a tentative smile, hoping to break the tension without any effect. The three zeroed back in on each other, mouths twisted in sneers and hands balled into fists.

  “Ryder’s being an asshole, what else?” Killian’s voice was gravely and red sparks twinkled in the air around him as he glared at his friends.

  “I’m being an asshole? That’s rich from a douche like you. You’re the one who started it!” Ryder snarled his response, his eyes flashing as he glared at Kill.

  “You’re both idiots and you’ve wrecked my kitchen!” Damien threw his arms into the air in exasperation, gesturing around him. “I’m tired of your attitude, Killian.” I stepped forward and realized the trail of destruction swept past the kitchen table and the chips on the floor, with Damien’s cookware laying in heaps on the floor topped by cracked stoneware and shattered glass that looked like the remains of his cherished coffee pot. I winced. Okay, well, now I understood why Damien was angry. If I were in his shoes, I would have been pissed too if someone had totalled all of my kitchenware.

  “And we’re all tired of your fucking silence, Gargoyle!” Killian growled back, throwing his hands up in the air.

  Before Damien could respond, I cut him off, “D, why don’t you go cool off? I can clean up the kitchen once we get all this sorted.” His hardened gaze turned toward me, and he shook his head in exasperation, the anger still evident on his face. He held his hands up in a surrendering gesture.

  “Fine. I need to get away from this mess, you’re right. Don’t you clean it up, though. These two made the mess, they should clean it.” His voice had softened significantly as he spoke to me, but his eyes were still hard as he gave his friends one last warning look on his way out.

  “Oh, stick it up your ass, stone boy.” Kill shot over his shoulder as Damien strode towards the exit. He froze for a minute as if he wanted to turn back to the argument. His shoulders were taut under my hand as I gave him a small shove to send him on his way. I took a deep breath as I studied the two snarling males in front of me. I was really at a loss for how to handle them. I was already on edge between the screaming, the swearing, the mess, and the visible tension in the air. I had learned from a young age to disappear at these times, not to insert myself into the middle of the situation. I didn’t want the two coming to blows as Theo had suggested, however.

  I stepped up to Killian, keeping my voice soft and comforting. “Come on, Kill. It can’t be that bad.” I tried to stroke a hand down his shoulder, but he simply shrugged me off. I winced, trying not to take it personally, and tried to focus again. Kill had never rejected my touch before, and it stung. To be fair, I hated being touched when I was angry as well. I tried to remember that now.

  “It’s not just one thing!” Kill’s voice snapped out like a whip, and I tried not to flinch in response to the anger being turned in my direction. “Why the hell does everyone think it’s one thing? It’s everything! He can never be respectful. He can’t be serious to save his life. He’s just a flat-out irresponsible bastard.” Kills tirade ended in a shout as Ryder flicked him off.

  “Projecting much? I think you’ve mistaken me for your brother! And you’re an uptight prick.” Ryder bent and began scooping chips off the floor. “You’ve always been a bastard but you’ve been a complete asshole on top of it lately. What the fuck is wrong with you?”

  I scowled in his direction as Kill hissed through his teeth. “You’re my problem, horse boy.”

  “Horse boy!” Ryder whipped up, tossing soggy chips into Kill’s face as he raged. “Fuck you. Seriously, bunny boy, fuck you. What the hell? You start chewing me out because I accidentally knocked into you while I was gettin food and made you slosh your fucking coffee. I tease you, just like I always do, just like I do to all of you, and then you full on attack me!”

  I could only gape at the pair of them. “Seriously, Kill? This whole mess, all this screaming, it’s because of splashed coffee?” I knew Kill had a temper, and I knew that Ryder sometimes drove him nuts, but to blow up this bad over something so small…

  Killian rounded on me, his lips peeled back in a snarl, the air full of sparks. My heart was pounding as I forced myself to stand my ground and not take the step back like I wanted to. “Yes, over coffee. Over coffee and this asshole’s stupidity. What’s it to you if what we’re fighting over is dumb? You haven’t been here all these years. You haven’t had to deal with the same lame jokes, the same snarky, sarcastic comments, the same practical jokes over and over again. Don’t be a bitch, and let us finish beating the crap out of each other!”

  I froze, unable to force my mouth to open, to find any words that would fit. It felt like he had just punched me in the stomach; I couldn’t breathe, couldn’t think straight. He had called me a bitch. My bunny had called me a bitch. He and Ryder were back to sniping at each other, but I couldn�
�t focus on the words through the roaring of the blood in my head. I backed from the room, one foot after the other. I had to get out of there. I couldn’t stay there.

  Hands closed around my wrist gently, but I flinched, pulling away and tucking my arms around my waist as I turned to glare at whomever had grabbed me. Damien and Hiro were behind me, their eyes dark with concern and anger. I could feel my stomach knotting, my fingers were cold, and I could barely drag air into my lungs. “Leave me alone.” The words barely made their way out of my throat. I scrambled backwards, away from them and out of reach. I couldn’t stay here.

  Seventeen

  Nix

  My heart pounded wildly in my chest. I could feel the fire flying from my fingertips, wrapping me in a cocoon of heat, but I was helpless to control it or worry over any damage I was doing. My heart throbbed painfully at the damage that had already been done between each of us. Too many people—too many men. Large, imposing bodies, flashing eyes, and air thick with swearing and anger; I needed to breathe. I scrambled backwards, turned, and fled.

  With each stair I climbed, the ghosts of my past haunted me.

  “Nix!” Damien called after me, his feet pounding on the stairs behind me, but it wasn’t his voice I was listening to.

  "You stupid fucking bitch!" Michael’s gravelly voice rang out loud and clear, almost like I was back in the world I'd worked so hard to escape. The harsh tenor of his voice caused shivers to fly down my spine and bumps to raise on my skin. Flashes of beatings I’d taken and painful deaths flashed before my eyes. Somewhere in the back of my mind, I knew they weren't happening—not anymore—but I couldn’t pull myself out of the swirling nightmares.