Chapter 22

CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO

Tucker

L ife has an irony to it that defies all logic.

The safe house has become a pressure cooker, everyone coiled tight with nerves, frustration, and that gnawing feeling that things are about to explode. Jaxon isn't spilling information as they hoped because someone—the true-blood vampire behind the coup or possibly a witch—has spelled him so that every time he intends to answer their questions, he slumps into unconsciousness.

It's been effective and is driving Zane and Huntley mad.

But Scotland and I have enjoyed every spare moment, exploring the connection our shared magic creates. She's incredible. I understand why Zane is kicking himself for losing her. If this ever ends between us, it's going to shatter my heart into a million pieces.

"Add another ten on both sides."

I look down at Jack lying on the weight bench and shake my head. I grew up with my mother telling me that my dad was a true warrior with a noble duty.

I didn't understand why that nobility wouldn't have included me. That he never knew about me dulls the pain, but if he cared about my mother, why didn't he ever come back to our compound like he promised?

If he had, he would've found out about me and I could've had a father decades before now.

"You're pushing yourself too hard, old man. Let's keep it here for another rep and see how you feel."

"Or you can listen to me and trust that in the eighty years I acted as the personal protector of the vampire king, I learned my limitations."

I roll my eyes and add the weights.

Jack is a tough old bastard. And though he's technically going on a hundred and thirty, possessing the squire magic for so long means he doesn't look a day over fifty-five.

I finish securing the locks on the weights and step back to spot him. "This isn't a competition, you know."

Dad lifts the bar, straightening his arms, and holds it for a moment while he tests the weight. "That's where you're wrong, son. Everything about the vampire community is a competition. It's like navigating one never-ending pissing contest."

Scotland comes through the door and blinks over at us. "What's a never-ending pissing contest?"

"Life with vampires," my dad answers.

Scotland snorts and heads over to set a blue towel and a workout water bottle on the table against the smashed mirror wall. Reaching one arm across her chest, she uses the other arm to push her elbow and stretch her shoulders. "Da used to say, living with vampires is like being stuck in an eternal Olympic Games where the only event is who can brood the hardest."

Dad laughs. "Vampires don't do ‘casual'. Even drinking coffee turns into a competition of whose cup is the darkest shade of despair."

Scottie grins. "In a house full of vampires, even a thumb war is a battle for eternal dominance."

Jack nods. "Vampires will turn anything into a contest. I've seen two of them race to see who could finish reading War and Peace faster… in Russian."

I shift my attention back and forth between them like I'm following a ball at a tennis match. How weird is it that my girlfriend already loves my dad like a father figure? Does that make this uniquely awesome or icky?

I'm going with awesome.

The vampires are so competitive jokes taper off and Scottie heads over to the strike dummy. The thing is a padded telephone pole with arms sticking out from all sides, and it spins while she hits it.

I focus on Dad's weight training while she wraps her fists, puts in her earbuds, and begins her workout. She's got a lot of processing to do and if beating the snot out of a training dummy helps, I'm happy to watch her beat down her demons.

It doesn't take long before Dad signals that he's had enough and sits up to watch our girl.

She's hitting the dummy with precision, her form tight and controlled as she drives her fists and elbows into its padded surface. Each strike lands with a satisfying thud , and I can read the tension and frustration bleeding out.

Jack is mesmerized, a proud smile tugging at his lips. "She's got her father's instincts and rhythm, that's for sure."

I lean against the wall beside him, taking in the show. Mr. Perfect has taken notice, too. My cock is stiffening like a fucking divining rod, pointing toward its tall glass of water.

I shift my stance and adjust my sweats, but Jack is already staring at me with a brow arched. "Be careful, son. There's a lot of history between them. Don't get in too deep."

I grunt. "That ship has sailed, I'm afraid. I was a goner from the moment she came through the residence tunnel looking wrecked. She's incredible."

"No argument, but if you'd ever seen her with Zane, you'd know they share a soul."

"Then maybe I could have her heart. I'd be okay with that. In fact, I'd consider myself lucky."

He doesn't look convinced. "It might not seem like it now, but those two were written in the stars."

I frown. "Whose side are you on?"

"Yours, Tuck. Always yours."

"But…"

"But know that Zane takes up a lot of landscape in Scottie's heart. It's rough terrain right now, but that won't last forever."

I hear what he's saying, and I appreciate his concern. Still, I wouldn't do anything differently. I'm all-in with Scottie until she tells me otherwise. Growing up in a shifter compound, I know how to live a pack life.

I know how to put my female's needs and wants first.

And what she needs is a man who believes in her and supports her unconditionally. I can give her that.

Sweat glistens off her silky skin as she finishes her battle with her static opponent. She drops her fists and shakes out her shoulders, bouncing on the balls of her feet.

After patting her face and neck dry, she plucks out her earphones and exchanges them for her water bottle. When she turns to catch us watching her, she freezes. "What?"

"Nothing, beautiful. We were just admiring your form."

My dad throws me a look and laughs. "He made that sound creepy. I was focused on your fighting form. I can't speak for my son."

She wipes a bead of sweat from her brow and saunters over to join us. "Oh, I have a fairly clear idea of what your son was admiring."

I wink at her and grin. "Guilty on all counts."

Jack takes a swig of his sports drink and lets that subject drop. "How are things going in the basement?"

Scottie grunts. "Zane's ready to rip Jaxon's throat out. He's too used to getting what he wants. He has no patience for spinning his wheels."

"And he's spinning them on several fronts," Jack adds.

Scottie shrugs. "That's on him. He made his choices."

"No argument, kid. He fucked up. But right now, he needs his Sacred Squire to step up and set him on the right path."

Scottie lowers her water bottle and swallows. "So, what's the play?"

"You are. It's time to start Sacred Squire 101."

Her eyes widen. "Are you feeling up to training me?"

"I'm on the right side of the daisies, heart beating and lungs breathing. What more could a man need? Besides, your lesson for today won't be physical. It's the mental game you need to conquer."

She hesitates for a moment, then nods. "All right. Show me the path, wise one."

Jack looks over at me. "Would you mind making some sandwiches for lunch, son? There are some things bound in confidence that Scottie and I need to discuss."

I take that as my cue. Gripping Scottie's jaw, I give her a chaste kiss. "Good luck, grasshopper."

She giggles. "I'll take turkey on rye, extra mayo."

"On it. See you in a bit."

Scottie

When Tucker leaves, Jack reclaims his seat on the weight bench, and I cop a squat on the floor mats. "All right, Jack. Give it to me. What do I need to do?"

He takes a moment to gather his thoughts, his eyes sharp and focused despite the worry marring his expression. "Scottie, I'm going to be blunt. Part of your new role, as Zane's Sacred Squire, is helping him stay in control. Vampires have a darkness in them and from the time they grow into manhood, they are constantly battling to tamp down their darkest urges—reining in the beast inside him. It's what your father and I each did for Francesco, and it's what you're going to have to do for Zane."

Zane mentioned something about this when he was giving me his excuses about dumping me and pushing me away. "And what does reigning in his beast mean, exactly?"

Jack's expression softens as he looks at me. "It means that you're more than a bodyguard, lass. You need to anchor him when his emotions take hold and bloodlust hits. You need to connect with him and rebuild the trust you two once shared."

I glance down, tracing the filigree of the Vasari squire's mark etched into my forearm. "I don't know if I can do that."

"I wouldn't put this on you if it weren't essential, kid. Fondatori are powerful and that pure-blooded energy is dangerous if not contained. You need to be his humanity, his conscience, and his soul or his reign will be over before it starts."

No pressure.

Jack reaches forward and places a hand on my shoulder, his grip surprisingly strong despite his weakened state. "Your father believed in you. He knew you could handle this, even if you don't believe it yourself yet."

The image of my father lying on the floor of his office is etched into my soul forever. How his gaze met mine as if he could see me through that mirror.

"Forgive him, lass. It's been the greatest honor of my life to be yer da, but yer a chip off my block. Deep breaths. Love ye forever and always."

My vision blurs behind a swell of tears, and I wrinkle my nose to fight the sting back. "He destroyed me, Jack. You were there. You saw me at the worst. Do you have any idea what you're asking of me?"

"I'm afraid I do, kid. I'm sorry this landed on your shoulders, but we both know Bran would never gift you his powers on a whim. You always trusted his judgment, right?"

"Yeah, of course."

"Then trust him now. Trust that he had a plan."

Forgive him, lass.

I pull in a deep breath, forcing air into lead lungs. "I've been hurt and angry so long, I don't know how to forgive him. What if I'm truly broken? What if I let him in again and he sees the damage done and he pushes me away again?"

Hot tears stream down my cheeks, and I swipe them away as quickly as I can, fighting not to fall apart. Sure, he knows what happened to me in New York and came to stay with me during my recovery, but even he doesn't truly understand what I went through.

No one does.

"Scotland McCullough, look at me." I don't want to, but Jack's love has always been a safe place for me, so I try. His eyes shine with love as he slides off his seat to kneel next to me. "He won't push you away again, sweet girl, and he never would've pushed you away then if he wasn't lost to his vampire side. He didn't have control, kid. He was afraid his hungers would devour you."

I shake my head. "You weren't there."

"No, I wasn't, but I was there when he slaughtered three UofT students coming home from a play a week later. He drained them dry and didn't remember doing it. He woke from the haze of his primal hunger covered in blood, with his fangs still locked in one of the girls' thighs."

What? That can't be true.

"His transition into adulthood was a dangerous time for him, kid. His darkest impulses had a tight grip on him and didn't let go for several years."

"Years? Why was it so bad? I've seen clan members struggle before, but nothing like that."

"Zane's a Fondatori royal. That means more than him being faster and stronger than his peers. It also means his vampire side is hungrier and more volatile, too."

He lets the conversation fall silent for a few minutes, then he squeezes my shoulder. "He's a vampire, kid. Don't equate him with the guys you met at university. Vampires feel emotions ten times deeper, they hunger ten times more, and they struggle ten times more. He won't push you away again. Trust me. If you give him even the slightest opening, he'll show you what we've all known for years. He loves you, Scottie, and he'll do anything to get you back in his life."

I flop backward on the mat and pull the towel over my head. No. I swore I'd never open myself up to him or anyone like that again.

Why would Da do this to me?

Even as I ask myself the question, I know the answer. Da knew me better than anyone. He knew I was hiding part of myself away. He knew I'd built up walls to protect my heart.

"You know how to read him. You understand him better than he understands himself. When the darkness takes hold, you need to see it coming. When his beast hungers to tear someone's throat out, you are the one with the power to pull him back."

"What if I don't want it to be me?"

"But it is you. You wear the mark of the Vasari Sacred Squire. For now, you're doing your father's bidding, but one day soon, you might feel differently. If that time comes, everything will change."

I pull the towel off my face and finger through the mess I've made of my hair. "Change how?"

Jack rubs a hand over his stubbled chin. "When you and Zane get on the same page, the bond will really take hold. Then, when you fight to keep him safe, the magic that ties you to Zane's life force will amplify your strength and give you the power to channel his anger and redirect it."

I think about all the times Da talked Francesco down when he was infuriated about something. I always knew they were close; I just didn't know how it worked.

"But that connection cuts both ways. It means feeling what he feels, knowing what he knows. It's a heavy weight, but it's also an incredible honor to be bound to someone like that."

I stare down at the Vasari crest tattooed into my forearm, the wheels of my mind turning. Da raised me to be a survivor, but this will be a different battle. This fight isn't about fists and speed and taking a hit.

It's about trust and forgiveness and taking a risk I really don't want to take. But if what Jack said is true, it makes sense why Da wanted me at Zane's side.

Dammit, Da. Why do you always have to be right?