Chapter Eleven

Weightlessness overcame Marcus, and when he opened his eyes, he was no longer on the ship.

He stood in his loft condo, holding hands with Dane.

“Whoa,” he breathed, looking around at his home.

The ceiling rose fifteen-feet high with industrial lighting, and a wall of tall windows were directly across from the foyer. Wooden floors mixed with plush cream carpet, and furniture of light woods and dark leather kept it from feeling cold and impersonal. Steel track-lights highlighted some of his framed artwork lining the red-brick wall opposite his entertainment system. He loved his loft, proud of his tattoo shop’s success that had paid for it.

“Shit!” a familiar woman screeched.

Dane leaped in front of Marcus—looking hilariously like a toy poodle trying to protect a rottweiler. “Who goes there?”

In the living area, the big TV glowed in the dim loft, and frantic scrambling and angry whispers came from the other side of his leather sectional.

His sister sat up, and Marcus chuckled at her disheveled appearance, shirt clutched to her bare chest. He assumed Allison must be somewhere below her on the couch.

“What the fuck, Marc,” his twin complained, black hair pulled into a messy bun and wearing none of her usual pin-up girl makeup. “I thought you were gonna be gone for two weeks. Why are you back so soon?”

“We didn’t even hear you come in,” a voice complained from the safety behind the couch. “Did you text us?”

“No, but I didn’t think you’d be here banging on my couch,” Marcus said, putting a hand on Dane’s shoulder and drawing him back. “Which, eww, by the way. Would you like it if we came to your house and fucked on your couch?”

Sheri narrowed her eyes at Dane, then recognition struck. “Oh! You’re... him.”

Jeremiah and Skip had outed Marcus’s “cruise crush,” as they’d called it, forcing Marcus to show Sheri the sketch of Dane. She’d seen others he’d made too, but he didn’t acknowledge her recognition now as he turned himself and Dane around. “We’ll let you get yourselves together.”

There were rustling sounds as the girls hurriedly dressed.

“We were having a Game of Thrones marathon,” Allison explained.

“Is that what you call it?” he teased.

Dane stared up at him in confusion, waiting for an explanation. He didn’t offer one.

Let him be out of the loop for a change.

“You asked us to watch Kitt, and I told you we were gonna use your HBO,” Sheri said. “You can turn around now.”

Allison had her hair wrapped up in a silk scarf, and both of them wore tanks and patterned pajama bottoms. It amused Marcus how they always dressed to match, Sheri in all red with white bunnies on her bottoms, and Allison in white with red puppies on her pants.

“It’s fine, I’m sorry we surprised you. We’ll only be here for a minute, then we gotta get back to the ship.” He gestured to the man still waiting rather impatiently for an introduction. He was adorable when he pouted. “Dane, this is Sheri, my twin, and her wife, Allison. Ladies, this is Dane.”

“It’s a pleasure.” Dane offered a bow of his head that seemed kind of royal.

Marcus didn’t introduce Dane as his mate, and felt a twinge of guilt. Yet he was both embarrassed and happy to have Dane there. It felt right having the other man in his home. But the whole situation overwhelmed him to say the least. And he was still pissed Dane had magically removed two of his tattoos.

What the actual fuck?

Would they even be the same when he put them back?

He shelved his anger for now, and focused on the task at hand. He was good at that. Tattoos and soul bonds could wait. More important issue were at hand.

Like finding out what the hell I am.

“Hello, Dane.” Sheri’s dark eyes narrowed. “And what do you mean getting back to the ship? Just how did you get here?”

Marcus studied them both closely, and he got that same sense of them hiding something that he had from the guys. “How do you think we got here?”

The girls exchanged glances. “I don’t know. Why don’t you tell me?”

“Why don’t you tell me about Jeremiah?”

They flinched then shared another look.

“What about Miah?” Allison asked, her brown skin pretty and smooth even without all of her usual makeup.

“I don’t know,” Marcus countered, crossing his arms. “What do you know about Miah?”

“I don’t know.” Sheri glanced at her wife. “What do you think I know?”

“I know that Jeremiah is a merman,” Marcus said, thoroughly enjoying their shock.

“Oh, he told you?” Sheri said, relaxing with relief. “Thank God. You know I hate keeping secrets from you.”

“So it’s true?” Marcus cried. With his sister’s confirmation, somehow everything Dane had told him seemed really real for the first time.

“Oh yeah,” Allison intoned. “Him and Aleek. It’s amazing really. Their tails are so beautiful. Like emeralds in the sun.”

“You’ve seen them?”

“Just before our wedding and again at theirs.”

Marcus studied them and the odd sense of being left out of something at the wedding hit him again. “Why didn’t I see that?”

“You weren’t approved to know yet,” Sheri said apologetically. “You and Kendra.”

“Why us?” Marcus asked, giving Dane the side-eye.

I’ll bet I know why.

“She is magic resistant and you were not told at my request,” Dane said softly, though he kept his chin raised and posture rigid, the manner either unapologetic or awaiting a reprimand, Marcus couldn’t be sure.

“That makes sense,” he admitted, giving his sister a blank expression in answer to her questioning one.

“How did you get here? What’s going on?”

“I teleported us,” Dane said, nonplussed.

“Excuse me, you what?” His twin’s eyes, so like his own, widened comically.

“I knew it!” Allison crowed. “There are more than just merfolk. There had to be other supernatural beings. What are you?”

“You can’t ask that,” Sheri scolded then looked between them. “Can you?”

Marcus deferred to Dane, who stated simply, “I am not merfolk.”

Before the girls could ask more questions, a black cat leaped onto the kitchen table, swishing his tail and meowing in censure at Marcus.

“Hey, Kitt,” he crooned, reaching for the cat he named for the tricked-out Trans Am from the old TV show Knight Rider. Hasselhoff on Baywatch reruns helped Marcus discover he was gay, and he wasn’t too embarrassed to say he’d watched everything the man produced. Even had CDs of his music.

Gotta love the Hoff!

Kitt swished his tail, meowed loudly, and then jumped onto the floor, giving Marcus the cat equivalent of the double-barrel middle finger. To Marcus’s surprise, and because cats could be assholes, Kitt rubbed across Dane’s leg, purring.

“Why, hello there,” Dane gushed.

Marcus squashed his jealousy when Dane squatted to pet the suddenly affectionate cat. Kitt always took a few days to forgive Marcus when he went out of town.Yet here he was, loving on Dane.

“And who are you, my fine fellow?” Dane crooned as he scratched behind his ears.

His humming could have been mistaken for a small engine.

“That’s Kitt,” Marcus said.

Dame beamed at the animal. “I am honored to make your acquaintance.”

The black cat glowed from the attention.

Sheri and Allison stared back and forth from Dane to Marcus, faces alight with questions and barely restrained curiosity. Since Dane hadn’t offered his true identity, how should he have introduced Dane? Soul mate? Boyfriend? He didn’t understand what they were, other than two guys who’d fucked and agreed to get to know each other.

Oh and were apparently soul bound by blood for eternity.

Double, what the fuck!

Sadness and regret hung over Marcus from Dane’s words and decisions thus far. But he didn’t need his mama bear sister to know he’d basically been thrown into a situation he might not be able to escape which could lead to heartbreak city. That’s not why they were here tonight.

“I do not... did not want to be mated with a human.”

Those words were still like a sucker-punch to Marcus.

He’d changed the words halfway in, so did Dane still feel that way or was it an attempt at politeness? Not that Marcus had seen much courtesy from the guy thus far, but he had made a vow to tell the truth which seemed way more significant than a mere promise. But if he still didn’t want to be mated with a human, would he use magic to break their new bond? And why did that notion hurt more than being left out of something at his friends’ wedding?

“We should look at your sketchbooks now,” Dane said when Kitt decided he’d made Marcus jealous enough and strutted off to his kitty condo by the windows in the living room.

“How far should we go back do you think?” Marcus questioned. He still couldn’t wrap his head around the reality that fairies and mermen were real, or that a unicorn saved his life. But something about it made sense, more than anything in his entire life.

“And why are we looking at your sketchbooks?” Allison wanted to know as they followed them into his office. Jeremiah’s adoptive sister was clever, Marcus had to give her that much. Sheri wouldn’t have married her otherwise.

Being an inside room, there were no windows in here, instead two walls had floor to ceiling bookshelves, a third had a faux fireplace with flickering LED logs—it was Florida after all—framed by an oak mantle with a giant mirror above. A plush, dark purple suede loveseat with coordinating ottoman made the perfect spot to curl up in to read or draw, and his desk sat against the fourth wall where he did all the behind the scenes work for the parlor. The bookshelves housed tons of books, some cool art pieces, and collectables from his limited travels. The bottom shelves contained the sketchbooks he’d filled over the last decade or so.

The pièce de resistance?

The ladder on a track around the bookshelves, more for effect than need. He happened to think it was the coolest thing in his loft.

“You have a beautiful library.” Dane’s lilac eyed glowed with delight.

Another pang hit Marcus, wishing Dane would look at him the way he gazed lovingly at the books.

“Thank you,” Marcus managed.

One of his dreams as a kid had been to have a library like the Beast, so one day he could bring home his Beauty, and his man would be wowed, just like Belle. When he’d bought this condo with its fifteen-foot ceilings, he’d hired a carpenter to build the custom bookshelves. Watching Dane’s reaction had been exactly what he’d envisioned at the time, but reality squashed the momentary joy.

He doesn’t want me.

Dane fingered the ladder, his eyes staring up at the tomes in awe. “Have you read all of these books?”

“No, maybe one day I’ll get to them. This section has my sketchbooks.”

Dane became all business once more. “We should start at the most recent and work backwards. If we find something significant, we will take it with us.”

“Back to the ship?” Sheri questioned, sliding onto the loveseat. Allison sidled up to her and sat in her lap. Sheri quickly wrapped her arms around her wife’s waist.

“Why are you looking at his drawings?” Allison wanted to know.

“Because apparently I can see the future,” Marcus said, feeling stupid, even as he spoke.

“Technically I am unsure if that is correct,” Dane said in a scholarly tone. “We do know you are able to draw magic in its true form. Can do so from a distance? When you saw the one who saved us, was that a vision of the future or something you sensed from a distance and in real time? And drawing my true form before our bond? Most unusual. Were you seeing the future, or did that have more to do with your connection to me than actual visions? It is all of that we must discover.”

Sheri and Marcus shared a loaded glance.

“Visions?” Allison whispered. She looked back and forth between the twins. “Like your father has?”

“I am nothing like Hector,” Marcus spat.

“Your father has visions?” Dane asked, intrigued.

“No,” Marcus said, even as Sheri nodded. Then he quickly retracted his answer. “I don’t know. Maybe.”

Could any of Hector’s demons been real?

If so, it would mean Marcus might have to reconsider everything, and he was in no place to even think about that. He refused to meet Sheri’s eye.

“My drawings,” he prompted, pulling a book from the shelf, careful to keep the most recent one in place.

Naturally Dane picked that one up and placed it on the desk before Marcus could protest.When Dane flipped open a page, he let out a small gasp. He turned a few pages, his own reflection staring back at him on each one.

As many times as he’d drawn Dane, one might assume the images would morph into something from Marcus’s imagination, an exaggerated version of the man.

But no, the drawings could’ve been photographs.

Perfect snapshots in a time Marcus could only dream of having.

Face hot, he said, “That isn’t one that can help us.”

Dane did not argue when Marcus took it from him. He didn’t know Dane well enough to venture what he might be thinking, but the man stared openly at him. Did he think Marcus was a stalker, creepy? Or was he flattered? He’d already seen the Dane sketches in the book on the ship. He didn’t need to see the pages Marcus had filled entirely with fantasy drawings of the mystery man now standing in his house and bound to his soul.Especially the naked ones. Or the ones of them as a couple.

I’m such a stalker!

Embarrassed, he placed it back on the shelf. Saying nothing more, he opened the book he’d pulled, overly aware of the weight of Dane’s heavy gaze. Sheri noticed—of course she did—but said nothing as she and Allison joined them.

She smiled smugly though, the little brat.

“This book is mostly from their wedding on, but before the last cruise when we met.” Marcus squirmed a bit as he placed it on his desk for Dane.

Aside from the latest sketchbook back in his cabin, the only one he’d been filling since Jeremiah and Skip’s wedding he’d just put away.

The obsession had to be because of this soul mate thing, right?

“You made these drawings after you were first exposed to the Pride’s magic, correct?” Dane clarified, starting at the first page which was a drawing of Kitt.

Marcus nodded.

“The Pride has magic?” Sheri questioned before Marcus could answer. “Like the actual ship?”

“Yes,” Dane explained. “His Majesty, Raoul Leonides is the king of the Fae, and his consort, Captain Leonides, is a demi-god, son of Dionysus.”

“I knew if merfolk were real then those people on the cruise with wings were real fairies,” Allison said enthusiastically.

“You totally called it,” Sheri agreed.

“Indeed,” Dane remarked as he continued to turn pages, studying each image. “His Majesty and the king’s consort recommissioned the ship using magic. They believe she has developed her own magic, often reuniting lost souls and healing others. Many with dormant abilities, at being exposed to the intense concentration of magic aboard the Pride, have their abilities surface. That is what happened to Jeremiah, and doubtless you too.”

“So we need to start at the drawings from our wedding cruise, when Marcus’s ability awakened, right?” Allison surmised. She gestured to the book leaning ominously alone on the bookshelf. “But before he was drawing only you.”

“Beautiful and smart.” Sheri beamed at her wife.

Marcus on the other hand frowned when his sister-in-law not only noticed but chose to announce his fixation with Dane. Maybe his friends thought he’d gotten over the Dane obsession, but obviously his twin, and vicariously her wife, had not.

It was annoying to be known so well.

Kitt must’ve lost his attitude about Marcus leaving, or became too curious to stay away, because the cat strolled in and sat in the middle of the doorway, watching them.

“If you want the pics that were after I was first on the Pride, that would be about here.” Marcus skipped ahead to the drawings he’d made during Sheri’s wedding cruise. It was mostly flash, scenery, and a few of Allison and Sheri.

“Hey, I didn’t know you did this.” Sheri gasped at one of the two of them.

“Yeah, I meant to frame it for your anniversary,” Marcus told her. “Surprise.”

When Dane turned the next page, he let out a loud gasp too, muttering something in a language Marcus didn’t recognize.

“What?”

Dane seemed about to jump out of his own skin with excitement. “I would not believe this was true if I did not keep seeing it with my own eyes.”

They all studied the drawings Dane found so interesting—an anime-style series featuring a man with a green streak in his hair. Marcus had drawn a closeup of him weeping, then chained to a chair in a cave.

“That’s some anime I drew after the girls’ wedding,” Marcus explained.

Despite the sad sketches, Dane smiled wide. “It is so much more. This is a water sprite named Keenan. He was held captive until Kevin and the king rescued him. It was just before they found me. He is living on the Pride as we speak.”

Marcus gaped at the macabre drawing. “Wait, this was real?”

“Yes! This is so exciting,” Dane gushed. “You had a vision of a missing para!”

His stomach clenched at the word vision, and he felt Sheri watching him while Dane flew through the sketchbook.

“I wonder if there are more,” Dane said excitedly.

Marcus shook his head at his twin when her mouth opened to say something.

“Here!” Dane stopped on a drawing of two handsome men, both muscled and hairy, but one smaller than the other. Behind them, a beautiful white wolf howled at the moon. Marcus had just read a great series of alpha and omega m/m books, fiddling with the idea of drawing some pre-made romance novel covers to sell online. The idea lasted about as long as it took him to finish this sketch.

Drawing and computer graphic design?

Totally not the same thing.

“That’s Chuck and Stan!” Dane declared.

He almost couldn’t get his question out as his chest continued to tighten. “Who are they?”

Dane beamed at him. “Chuck and Stan are a solitary werewolf couple who cruise on the Pride often. The white wolf is named Wren.” He pointed at the wolf on the drawing. “White wolves are extremely rare. Many believed them only to be a myth. Wren was injured and alone when Magus Theron rescued him and brought him to the Pride. He was the first rescued para the Magus found for His Majesty. Chuck and Stan adopted him into their tiny pack.”

“Oh my God, werewolves are real too?” Allison squirmed with excitement. “Are vampires real?”

“Of course,” Dane replied but he was staring at Marcus expectantly.

“Um, okay?”What did Dane want him to say?

“Does Theron have magic?” Sheri wanted to know.

“Don’t you see?” Dane hurried on, ignoring her question. “Look at the dates? You drew both of these when you were nowhere near the Pride. Visions completely unconnected to me and not of paras directly in front of you.”

I think I might be sick.

“So my brother is what? Seeing the future?”

Dane studied the drawings. “I don’t think so, not exactly. Perhaps he has visions of something as it occurs. Or it’s a clue of sorts.”

“How is that possible?” Allison asked

Marcus absently rubbed his chest, willing the panic away.

I am not like Hector. I’m not!

But it seemed like Dane could read his mind. Was he that clever or was it their soul bind? Or maybe Marcus wasn’t keeping his shit together as well as he thought.

“You mentioned visions run in your bloodline,” Dane prompted.

After a knowing look from Sheri, Marcus gritted out an answer. “Yeah, my grandfather once told me at a small Navajo gathering that we came from medicine men.”

“Oh,” Dane said, intrigued. “Can we speak to him?”

“He’s dead.” Marcus glared at his sister.

She glared right back.

“No,” he told her.

“Yes.

“No,” he said again at the same time she said, “We should call Dad.”

“No fucking way. I don’t even have the asshole’s number,” Marcus said, noting the curious way Dane studied him. What would he think of Marcus for saying something like that about his own father? Did Marcus care? It wasn’t like Dane wanted him—not outside the influence of sex demon magic, anyway. And he obviously didn’t like his tattoos because he’d taken it upon himself to remove two of them.

He seemed more interested in this magical mystery than in Marcus.

Pain sliced through him, but he carefully locked it away. Dane might not know him well, but someone in the room did. Like a bloodhound, if Sheri sensed Marcus’s unease, she’d want to know the cause. He wasn’t ready for her to know he had some eternal soul bond to the man of his dreams who didn’t really want him. No doubt a spell could break it. He’d read plenty of stuff like that in books and seen it on the screen over the years.

The idea their bond could be broken irritated him more than the missing tattoos, him possibly having visions, or discussing his father.

“We should call your father,” Dane suggested gently, almost as if he understood patriarchal discord.

“Don’t have a way to reach him,” Marcus replied.

Sheri and Allison shared a guilty glance.

“What is that look for?” Marcus wanted to know. If Sheri could read him, he sure as shit could read her right back.

Allison placed a hand tipped with long yellow nails on Sheri’s arm, obviously choosing to come to her dominant wife’s rescue... which didn’t bode well for Marcus.

“Tell me,” he demanded.

“We’ve been speaking to him,” Allison explained while Sheri squirmed like a guilty little girl.

“You fucking kidding me?” Marcus burst, resisting the urge to throw something. In a blur of black fur, Kitt dashed back to the living room. Dane watched on with no expression.

“Don’t be mad, Marc,” his twin began, face earnest. “He’s our father. I wanted to invite him to the wedding—”

“You fucking kidding me?”

“We didn’t because we didn’t want to upset you or your mother,” Allison quickly interjected. “But if we have a baby, we want them to know their grandfather.”

Marcus didn’t know the last time he’d been this fucking furious. “Well, I ain’t jerking in no cup if you plan to have that piece of shit in the kid’s life! You’ve lost your fucking minds!”

“What?” Sheri demanded, her temper flaring in response. “You promised!”

The girls wanted a baby, and they’d cooked up their best option—Marcus donating a sample and Allison carrying the baby. Which would be the closest they could have to a child of their own. Seeing as he’d never have his own kids, Marcus had been just as excited about the idea as the mothers-to-be.

But how could Sheri allow their fucking father back into her life? He barely managed not to shout his next words, dumbfounded by his sister. “You know what a manipulative piece of shit he is.”

“Well, we wouldn’t leave the baby with him unsupervised,” Sheri snapped.“I can’t believe you won’t help us. You promised.”

Marcus shook his head, ready to rage at her. But he snapped his mouth shut when a hand touched his. He looked down at Dane. No need for a woosah breath, all of his anger receded at the softness in his lavender eyes. He faced his twin and her wife. “Sorry, I shouldn’t have said that. You know I don’t mean it. Of course I’ll help you guys have a baby.”

“And you’ll be the best uncle in the world.”

“But the baby will never be alone with him. And any time he sees the baby, I’ll be there to make sure he doesn’t pull any of his usual shit. I don’t care if the kid is eighteen, he’ll never see them without me present. Ever. Swear it,” he demanded, holding up his pinky.

Sheri smiled and gripped her pinky with his in a sign of their unbreakable twin promise. “Fair enough. I swear it.”

They squeezed digits and Marcus let most of his anger go when he released Sheri’s finger. He didn’t understand her desire to have her child exposed to that fucking asshole, but Marcus wouldn’t deny her. Just like she wouldn’t deny his need to oversee the entire situation. They understood each other on a cellular level, and as much as he would make sure she got what she needed, she also knew Marcus would be there to protect her and any future children.

Always.

“So are we gonna call him?” Allison asked after an awkward moment passed.

Marcus groaned. But the bastard probably had some answers.

One summer Hector had taken him to the reservation to visit Grandfather for what Marcus assumed would be a traditional powwow. He’d been excited, but it had just been a small group of ten men smoking what probably wasn’t tobacco. In full native regalia, the men sang and told stories of the spirit world and danced around a big campfire. Marcus had been enraptured by the mysticism of the whole night. Grandfather made Marcus sit beside him in a seat of respect and honor. As the only young one there, he’d felt so important, special.

Then Grandfather told him of a long line of medicine men in their family. He’d explained the importance of being open to the spirit world and listening to what they said. A ceremonial drink was passed while the men beat drums and sang. Marcus drank from the cup as they chanted, then Grandfather gave him a Navajo name—Spirit Voice.

It was the only memory of his father that didn’t make Marcus disappointed or angry.

Had some of those old tales been true? His obsession with Dane had led Marcus to question his own sanity, but maybe there was more to it. He’d somehow seen paranormal people when they weren’t around him, and when he looked right at them, his hand knew exactly who and what they were, even if his mind didn’t. Grandfather had told Marcus to always be open to the spirits and they would guide his path.

Was that what was happening? Were spirits telling him things? Guiding his hand?

Had Grandfather named him Spirit Voice because he knew?

The old man had been dead a long time, and the only other person Marcus knew who had been present that night was his father. If the bastard had any answers, it would be easier to hear them with Sheri there.

And deep down he wanted to be the something unique Dane insisted he must be. Because if he was just an ordinary man, Dane would walk away and whatever was happening between them would end. Even though the mercurial man had actively avoided him then stolen his tattoos, Marcus still wanted him. Needed him.

Pathetic, but there it was.

Everyone stared at him, waiting while he deliberated.

“Fine,” Marcus relented. “Get his ass on the phone and put him on speaker.”

Sheri dashed for her phone and quickly dialed it, placing it on the desk on speaker.

“Hola, Sheri,” a voice he hadn’t wanted to hear again filled the room.

“Hola, Papa,” she answered. “Marcus is here too. He has a few questions we’re hoping you can help him with.”

His father’s reply was a disgusted grunt, so Marcus asked, “You sober?”

“You still a faggot?”

Dane’s eyes widened and Allison rolled hers.

“Papa, be nice,” Sheri scolded, and the pleading tone in the normally dominant woman’s voice irritated the livin’ fuck out of Marcus.

Well, he wasn’t a little boy needing daddy’s approval anymore.

“Yes, I still suck cock,” Marcus drawled. “Damn, good at it too.”

“Marcus,” Sheri admonished.

Dane and Allison hid smirks.

“I don’t need to hear this shit,” their father grumbled.

“You started it,” Marcus rejoined.

“No, you did, you—”

“Look, Marcus, Papa, let’s put that all aside. Marcus has a few questions for you.”

“About what?” the belligerent bastard demanded.

“About the time you took me to the reservation for the powwow with Grandfather.”

Their father fell quiet. “I didn’t think you remembered that.”

“I remember it in great detail,” Marcus argued.

“What do you want to know about it?”

Marcus took a deep nasal breath and stared at Dane. For the other man—and only for him—he asked, “I remember you tried to skin walk. How much of that was real?”

Another pause. “All of it. Not that you believed, even then. Why are you asking now, Spirit Voice?”

What the fuck was he calling him that for?

Sheri looked confused but Marcus wanted to get this call over with as quickly as possible and didn’t plan on pausing to catch her up. “Because something’s changed, and I want to know what you were trying to accomplish with all... that.” He almost said ‘all that blood’ but stopped himself short.

“What’s a skin walk?” Sheri wanted to know. Then she gaped at Marcus with a WTF expression. They usually didn’t have secrets.

Payback for the merman secret, Sher. It’s a bitch.

“A medicine man can use the spirit of an animal, usually a wolf, to commune with the dead,” Hector replied and Marcus was accosted with memories from that night around the fire. The gold slashes of firelight glistening on the blood pouring down his father’s bare torso, the wolf’s eyes, half-lidded and glassy, tongue lolling from its mouth, its body so freshly dead rigor mortis had yet to set in. That had not been a dried animal skin and paint. His father had been dancing around the fire wearing a recent kill.

“Like during Ghost Dances?” Sheri asked.

“No, queirdo,” Hector said and Marcus cringed at the endearment. “The northern Plains tribes practiced Ghost Dances to cleanse evil from the land and return the white man to Europe.” He spoke in that wise voice of an experienced storyteller. Marcus had to give the fucker credit, he had always been good at storytelling. “Navajo believed the Ghost Dance to be worthless words. We would never disrespect the spirits of our ancestors or anger them by asking them for such things. The medicine men in our family are directly linked to the spirit world, but we never used that connection to ask the spirits to do the impossible.”

“Just medicine men?” Sheri sounded annoyed.

“Yes, in our family, they are all men, queirdo. The spirits choose who they will speak with.”

“And they spoke with you?” Marcus said, recalling all the times his father refused to take his prescriptions and raved about spirits and demons screaming at him.

It couldn’t be true, could it?

“You don’t sound like you believe me, Marc.”

Marcus bit his tongue to stop from saying Hector had no right to shorten his name. He wanted answers and poking the bear wasn’t the way to get them. “I’m trying to understand. Please continue.”

His father chuckled. “So polite now. Last time I saw you, you had your hands around my neck.”

“Because I wasn’t gonna let you put yours around Mom’s! What, bitch? Don’t like that your faggot-ass son grew up to be bigger than yo’ punk ass?”

“You fuckin’ li—”

“Papa,” Sheri warned then glared at Marcus. “Please, no fighting! We’re not here to dredge up the past.”

His fists were clenched and Marcus, for a moment, wished he’d stayed in that gang all those years ago so he could—no. He wouldn’t give this motherfucker the satisfaction. After a deep breath, he nodded in assent to his twin.

“Can you please explain this all to us, Papa?” Sheri asked and Marcus tried not to break something at her fucking sweet tone.

“Okay, I’ll be nice for you, queirdo. Yes, Marcus, the spirits speak to me. They scream at me sometimes too. I can’t always make sense of their demands. I asked my father, your grandfather, to help me. He was a great medicine man. That night you mentioned was a blood moon. We planned a ritual dance with the tribe elders. I wanted you there and your mother agreed. What do you remember?”

Marcus closed his eyes, everything from that night clear as day. “The big fire, dancing, singing the ancient songs. That’s when Grandfather gave me a Navajo name, Spirit Voice.”Had Grandfather known Marcus had some sort of magic?

“That’s right.”

Marcus ignored Sheri’s second WTF glare. He’d have a lot of explaining to do later.Shaking his head at her, he continued with his memories. “Then he put a wolf skin on you and you danced by yourself while we all chanted and drummed. There was blood all over you. A lot of it. I always assumed you must’ve killed the wolf, but you didn’t let me see.”

Sheri flinched and threw up her hands in a super WTF. He’d never told her that either. Mostly because it had terrified the living shit out of him, even though the whole night felt deeply spiritual too. He’d wanted to protect his twin from the goriness of it all and hadn’t wanted her to think he had enjoyed the gathering as much as he had.

Funny, but even then, he had felt a holy connection to something.

“No, I didn’t want you to see that. Your mother would have never forgiven me. But I needed to find a way to listen to the spirits, to quiet their voices so I could understand. Grandfather thought if I embraced an animal’s spirit, he would help me hear the spirits more clearly.”

“Did you shift into the wolf?” Dane asked very seriously.

“Who is that?” Hector demanded.

“My friend. Answer the question,” Marcus said, then added, “Please.”

“I never took the form of a wolf, but I saw through his eyes.”

“What did you see?” Dane asked, intense.

His father remained quiet a moment. “Who are you? I’m not answering questions if you’re recording this or plan to use it against me.”

“Dane is my boyfriend, Dad,” Marcus said without thinking. “We’re not recording anything.”

Fucking paranoid asshole.

“Your son is seeing things,” Dane said. “They are real and tangible. I only wish to help him understand what he sees so we can use his gift to help my people.”

“Boyfriend, huh?” Hector scoffed. “And just who are your people?”

“We are a native people as well,” Dane replied. “We follow the old ways, and I am very interested in what you saw when you were in communion with the wolf. Please continue.”

“I saw you kids,” he said after a while. “You were far away from me. I could not speak to you, or hear you. The wolf told me to let you go. My journey would not intersect with yours again.”

Marcus and Sheri shared a long look. Not two weeks after that weekend on the reservation, Uncle Jerry came and took them all to Florida. Dad didn’t follow.

“A wolf showed you this?” Marcus said, not trusting the bastard. “Or was it Mom’s divorce attorney?”

“I’m not telling you anything else because you do not or cannot believe me. I’m not perfect, I know that. But I’m not a liar. I was the wolf that night, and he showed me my path.”

“I believe you,” Dane interjected.

Hector scoffed again. “Yay me.”

“Don’t be rude to Dane,” Marcus ordered.

“What are you hearing, hijo?”

Maybe being called son in Spanish lessened his ire, which was odd because usually it had the opposite effect. He was supposed to hate this man, right? “I’m drawing things, not hearing them. But they’re turning out to be real.”

“Lucky for you,” he remarked. “They aren’t always so polite when they’re sharing information.”

“Sharing information?” Marcus clarified. “So spirits are telling me things?”

“Yes. Isn’t that why you called me?” he groused.

“Yeah,” Marcus muttered. “Hey, thanks for answering my questions. Bye.”

Marcus reached out and disconnected the call before his father could say anything else.

“Hey,” Sheri scolded. “That was rude. I had more questions.”

“I heard enough. Figured to end it on a positive note.”

His twin did not look pleased, but he didn’t want to get into it with her.

“So boyfriends, huh?” Allison said, looking between the two of them.

Marcus studied the handsome enigma he was magically bound to, questioning his wisdom in giving Hector even that amount of information—especially when he didn’t know how true any of this was.

“We are more than that,” Dane told the girls. “We are soul mates, bound by blood for eternity.”

Four perfectly micro-bladed eyebrows shot up in surprise.

Sheri stared at Marcus. “Soul mates bound by blood for eternity? Care to explain?”

“Not at this time,” Dane answered as he scooped up Marcus’s sketchbook. Then he tipped his blond head at the startled women and took Marcus’s hand in his. “Thank you for your assistance, ladies. I believe I understand completely what Marcus is now. We will leave you. Good evening.” He glanced around the room, then added quite seriously, “Pass my regards to Kitt.”

Without warning, a sense of weightlessness cut through Marcus and the ground below his feet disappeared. A heartbeat later he stood in a big library.