15. Dani

“You've got to be kidding me.”

I stare up at the same burly bartender from that nightclub from what feels like forever ago. His chestnut hair was unkempt, wavy locks framing his face like the untamed mane of a lion, and his mustache drooped as his thin lips twist into a displeased scowl. Clearly, he didn't like this idea any more than I did. Nor did it seem like he enjoyed being called to Ashe's apartment so early in the morning.

On that, I could sympathize. Today was my day off. I should be sleeping in, not helping plot my own disappearance. Though, truth be told, I didn't really sleep much at all last night.

“I don't need a babysitter,” I growl, crossing my arms as I sweep my gaze back to the redhead. “And this is the worst plan I've ever heard of.”

Ashe shrugs, indifferent to my objections. “You've drawn unwanted attention, so now you need to direct that attention out of town. No one knows who you are yet so if they think you've left then what's the problem?”

“I can't just pack up my whole life and throw it in a few bags!” Hot air whistles through my nose as I let out a frustrated groan. “I can't just disappear, Ashe.”

“It's either that or I burn your place down. Unless you want death to find you faster, I suggest you make it work.”

Does she really expect me to be a willing accomplice in my own kidnapping? Exasperated, I turn my attention back to the bartender. “And you agree with this madness?” Who even is this guy to her? A bodyguard? Another demon? He can't seriously be okay with this!

The man hasn't moved from the door since he arrived in the apartment half an hour ago, his thick arms crossed over his chest and his scowl deepening with each new revelation of Ashe's plan. His furrowed brow narrows even more, a feat that I didn't think was possible, as he looks past me.

“Ashe, a word.”

His voice is low, guttural, with a dangerous undertone akin to a cornered animal ready to lash out, but Ashe hardly seems phased. Wordlessly, she motions to the bedroom and the two of them disappear behind closed doors.

Unbelievable. If they were going to plot out my kidnapping, the least they could do is loop me in on the details.

Why am I still here?

To be honest, I couldn't even begin to answer that question. Or give a good enough explanation as to why I stayed the night. But with every logical reason my mind would conjure up as to why I should just run out the door and never look back, my gut would counter them with feelings of reassurance and security.

What exactly is she keeping me safe from, anyway? Her stupid ring? Other demons? Witches, which apparently also exist in this crazy delusional world I somehow stumbled upon? Her?

So far the only thing I've seen that's remotely dangerous here is Ashe. I'm not safe in my own apartment according to her, but I'm safe in the home of a stranger. A sexy stranger who can punch holes through walls, moves insanely fast and glows when she's angry.

She's also a demon. Everything about that sentence would make a saner person run for the hills. Or to a church. But despite knowing that, despite what my head is telling me, deep down I know she won't hurt me.

Even though she claims it's not true, I feel like a prisoner in her home. Not allowed to leave out of an abundance of caution against alleged dangers—at least, not without a babysitter of her choosing, apparently. But still, that nagging little voice echoes in the back of my mind assuring me that I'm safe with her. I don't know how I know this, but I feel it in my bones. An invisible force, for lack of a better word, rooting me in place and quelling any thoughts of walking out and leaving this madness behind.

It was a nauseating battle between wits and wills. And wits were losing.

“I don't care if you don't like it.” Ashe's voice carries through the apartment as they emerge from her bedroom. “You owe me.”

The bartender grumbles something that I can't quite make out, but I'm fairly certain he mentions the words 'Reaper' and 'egotistical assholes'. I'll just add that to the growing list of things I'll probably never understand.

“Marco, here,” Ashe says, turning to me as she gestures to the man slumped against the wall behind her, “will take you to your apartment to start packing. Be sure to grab anything that could be linked to you, then straight back here.” She shrugs on her jacket and crosses the living room, deliberately avoiding my glare as she grabs her keys off the kitchen counter. “I'll be back late, but Marco will stay and keep an eye on things until then.”

“How long?” When she doesn't respond I roll my eyes and say, louder, “How long do you plan on keeping me here, Ashe?”

Could she even keep me here? Surely her bartender friend can't watch me forever, and this clearly wasn't a big concern of hers if she's not even going to stay. What the hell does she do, anyway?

“As long as it takes,” Ashe replies after a moment, her hand gripping the doorknob so tightly I thought it might shatter. “You put the ring on, Dani. Now you get to live with the consequences of that decision.” She tosses me a glance over her shoulder as she opens the front door, hazel eyes boring into my own with a ferocity that was matched only by her tone. “Be grateful you're still alive at all.”

And with those delightful words, she was gone.

“Isn't she a charmer in the mornings,” I mutter, combing a hand through my tangled hair. “Is she always this uptight?”

“You clearly haven't known her long.”

“I'm starting to get the picture.” I look over at my unfortunate, and I hope just as equally as unwilling, comrade in Ashe's crazy plan and sigh. It was far too early and I was way too sleep-deprived to mentally deal with any of this right now. “Marco, was it?”

He nods.

“Well I don't know about you, but I could go for a coffee.”

“I wouldn't be opposed to that idea.”

I offer him a small smile. “I might know just the place.”

***

“So how do you know Ashe?”

I hop out of Marco's truck, slinging the satchel over my shoulder as we walk across the parking lot of Café Roasted like we were old friends. I probably should have been more leery of getting into some random stranger's vehicle, but over these past two days my rather unorthodox induction into Ashe's supernatural world has kind of overshadowed any other surprises that life dared throw my way. Like the sense of ease that washed over me in Marco's presence, or my unwonted willingness to climb on the back of a demon's motorcycle despite all logical reason. Besides, my gut seemed to trust that Marco wouldn't just outright kill me. Something told me that Ashe would make sure he regretted it if he tried.

“The woman likes to drink,” Marco says with a shrug as he opens the door and beckons me inside. “I worked as a bartender at the time and saw her often enough. A blossoming friendship only seemed natural after that.”

I raise an eyebrow and shoot him a sidelong glance. “Worked as a bartender?” Wasn't he still a bartender?

“I bought out the original owner of the Hidden Door six years ago. Never stopped mixing drinks, though. I like connecting with my customers.”

Funny, he didn't exactly strike me as the 'people person' type.

“Danika,” David greets as we near the counter. “I should start scheduling you on Sundays. You keep coming in on your days off.”

“I just can't stay away from your coffee, David.” I smirk as I place my order and fish out my wallet, motioning to the stocky bartender beside me. “Oh, and I'm buying his drink, too.”

David peers over the rim of his glasses, his honey brown eyes flicking over Marco's husky frame as he rings up our order. “Adalbern.”

My babysitter grunts. “Vossler.”

“The sun's out. I'm surprised you crawled out of your cave so early. Thought you were nocturnal?”

“Only by choice, not by nature.” Marco shrugs. “But I was craving caffeine this morning and was told you made a pretty decent cup.”

I look between the two men, dumbfounded by their familiarity. “Wait, you two know each other?”

Marco nods. “You could say we run in the same circles.”

At this David chuckles, as if he was privy to some inside joke they both shared. “Ah yes, the small business owner's association. We're like a tight-knit little community.” He turns back to me with a scowl. “I do have a social life outside this café, you know.”

How cryptic.

Marco snorts as he takes his cup of coffee—black, with three sugars. Was that a demon thing?—from the counter and makes his way to the condiment bar, and just like that their strange little reunion was over. Neither of them seemed too keen on shedding any more light on the nature of their relationship, and I didn't even know where to begin with the questions.

Some mysteries I don't think I'll ever understand. But there was one mystery that I was determined to solve.

“Hey, David, where's Rose?” Usually the bubbly blonde was chatting up customers and avoiding the coffee grinder if she could help it. Even though it was far earlier than the time I normally showed up, I still expected to see Rose flashing her pearly whites from behind the counter.

But she had neglected to text me last night after her date like she said she would and I still couldn't shake the feeling that something was wrong.

Before David can respond, a familiar figure appears from the back room and I breathe a sigh of relief.

“Hey, Dani girl,” Rose greets, stifling a yawn as she slumps over the counter. “You're up early today.”

“Hey, hun.” My eyes flick over her features as I sip my beverage. There was something different about her, like a small piece of her shine was missing, but for the life of me I couldn't put my finger on it. “You didn't text me last night.”

“Oh shit, I'm sorry. I must've been so tired when I got home that I just passed out.”

“Late night?”

The blonde shrugs, her lips curving into a shameless grin. “The date went well, thanks for asking. The quail was delicious. You should go there some time.” Her stare shifts lazily to the other end of the café and she quirks a brow. “So who's the lumberjack?”

I follow her gaze, watching as my unsuspecting escort forages through the assortment of toppings at the bar like a bear in the woods. The man was all thumbs. “He does look like a lumberjack, doesn't he?”

“A cute lumberjack,” she muses, squinting her eyes as she leans forward. “Wait, is he the bartender from that club?”

“Bar owner, actually, and yes.”

“Oh right, because that totally explains your sudden friendship.” Rose fixates her attention back on me. “Let me guess, you're going out for a mani-pedi after this.”

“He's a friend of Ashe's.” Rose tilts her head and I suddenly remember that she doesn't actually know Ashe's real name. “You know, Red?”

Her eyes widen in surprise. “Since when have you been seeing Red? And why didn't you tell me!”

“We ran into each other last night and . . . talked.” I roll my eyes despite the flush coloring my cheeks as Rose wiggles her eyebrows. “Nothing happened, Rose. We just talked.” How can I explain this to her without revealing the truth? How can I not tell her everything?

“Right, talked.” She raises her hands and mimics air quotes with her fingers. “So is that why you've been so worked up over not seeing her this week? Because you've been seeing her behind my back?” When I don't immediately reply she huffs, although the amused smirk stretched over her lips counters any faux disappointment in her tone. “You know you can tell me anything, right, Dani girl? You don't have to hide things from me.” She scans the café. “So where is your redheaded knight in pristine leather now, anyway?”

“She's working.” Marco reappears next to me. “Ashe asked me to entertain Dani today.” He extends a hairy arm. “I'm Marco, the lumberjack.”

Either Rose's voice carried in the small shop or Marco had excellent hearing. I stifle a laugh as the blonde's face adopts a red hue, no doubt coming to the same conclusion. There aren't many people who can make Ice Rose blush.

“R-Rosalie,” she says, taking his hand in hers. “But everyone calls me Rose.”

“Like the flower.” Marco crinkles his nose, as if hit by a foul odor, and takes a step back. “We should go.” He glances down at me, takes a drink of his coffee and turns for the door without another word.

Right, I'm being politely kidnapped by a bunch of demons.

With a sigh I turn back to Rose. “I'll explain everything later,” I whisper as I lean over the counter and pull her into a hug. “I promise.”

“Dani, if you're in some kind of trouble you need to tell me! Stranger danger still applies to hot lesbians and lumberjacks.”

I give her shoulder a gentle squeeze before grabbing my coffee and following Marco out the door. I was going to tell Rose everything eventually, when Ashe was less intense about our situation and I was sure that she wouldn't kill us both for learning the truth. Until then, though, ignorance was probably bliss.

“Your friend seems nice,” Marco spoke up as we climbed into his truck.

I snap my head in his direction. “I don't know what your kind eats, but Rose is off limits.” If I couldn't tell her about this strange supernatural world I've been pulled into, the least I could do was make sure that it didn't find her.

The bartender snorts and fires up the engine. “Relax, Dani. I'm pescatarian.”

“Well that's reassuring.” I click my seat belt into place and take a drink as we pull out of the parking lot. “Does David know you're a demon?”

“I'm not a demon.” He grimaces, like the word tasted bitter on his tongue, and my curiosity deepens. If he's not a demon, and he's not going to kill me, then what was his role in all of this? What exactly is Ashe's plan? Does she even have one?

“I can't believe I let myself get swept up in her hype,” I mutter as I turn my gaze to the window.

In the reflection of the glass, I see Marco raise his own cup to his lips. “This really is a dangerous situation you're in.”

“What danger? I've seen nothing that even comes close to what Ashe described, other than whatever she is and”—I flick my eyes over to Marco—“whatever you are.”

“And you don't want to see it. Our kind doesn't take too kindly to humans knowing what we are.”

“Why wouldn't you want people to know about you, though?” I've seen what Ashe can do. I would think that anyone with her abilities would want to be revered in the public eye, like some kind of superhero. Or a super villain. Hell, they could probably take over the world if they wanted to and we mere mortals would be powerless to stop them.

“No offense, but your kind has a history of destroying those who're different than you.” Marco steers into my apartment complex and reverses into an empty space in front of my building. I don't even bother asking how he knows where I live. “We have enough beef as it is among ourselves. It's better if humans don't get mixed up in it.”

Without thinking, I hold up my hand and flash the soul ring in his face. “I don't exactly have a choice in that, now do I?”

“I wouldn't flaunt that in public if I were you,” he growls as we exit the vehicle and make our way to the third floor. “Someone might see.”

I withdraw a set of keys from my satchel and unlock the door. “If it's someone who knows how to get it off then maybe I want them to see it.” Ashe certainly wasn't helping in that regard. Joking or not, maybe I should have taken Rose up on her offer to cut off my finger yesterday. Christ, at this point I'd give up my whole arm if it meant my life could go back to normal.

“Hold on.” Marco blocks me from entering my apartment and cautiously pokes his head through the doorway. Before I can even think to ask what he's doing he takes several short, deep breaths in through the nose and my jaw drops. He's sniffing. He's sniffing the air like a bloodhound sniffing out a lead.

What the hell?

“Clear,” he says as he crosses the threshold. “No one's been here yet. We should hurry before someone does come, though.”

My knowledge of the supernatural may be limited to my brief experience, but I'm fairly certain that demons don't smell the air like an animal. “What are you?”

He raises a bushy eyebrow. “How much has Ashe told you?”

“Well she's told me about demons, which you've just denied being one.”

“That's because I'm fera.”

“You're what?”

“A shapeshifter.”

Images of people changing into furry four-legged beasts fill my mind, fueled by folklore and Hollywood movies, and somehow this revelation doesn't come as a surprise. At this point a faerie could manifest in front of me and I don't think I'd bat an eye. “So, you're like a werewolf?”

“Don't compare me to those dogs, I'm nothing like them. I'm a bjørnekriger.”

I blink. “A what?”

“Bjørnekriger. Arkoudan. A, uh, a bear shifter, to use the general term.” Marco takes a long, steadying breath. “Damn, I've never had to explain this before. And I really shouldn't be telling you any of it.”

“I'm already involved. I doubt anything you tell me now changes that.” I also just really want to know. Call it a morbid curiosity, or temporary insanity, but if I could learn more about this supernatural world then maybe I could understand my predicament—and, in a sense, Ashe—just a little better.

He scratches his beard as he considered his options and then, with a heavy sigh, he nods. “Alright. Well, you know about demons—”

“I know about witches, too,” I interject. “Ashe mentioned they were responsible for inventing the ring.” What a stupid, stupid invention.

“Right.” Marco takes a long swig from his cup before continuing. “Well, my kind are mortal. Like you. We grew up alongside humans, surviving in a world running wild with magic and demons. We're born with a kindred animal spirit and are able to change our form, shifting freely between man and beast. Fera is an ancient word for wild beast and is what we prefer to go by. Humans decided to call us shifters and the name kinda stuck.”

Shifters. Demons. Soul rings. Jesus, I'm going to have to start carrying around a pocket guide to the supernatural with all of these new terms I'm learning.

“What can you change into?”

“Me? I told you, I'm a bear shifter. Wolves and big cats are the dominant tribes, but I know of a few foxes, too.”

“Predators,” I groan. ”How fitting.”

He smirks. “My ancestors were the bjørnekriger, fierce viking warriors who knew no equal in battle. The other breeds have their own origins and myths that followed them over the centuries, but we always saw ourselves as protectors. After the witches cursed the lycans—er, werewolves, as you would call them—in their war with the vampires, that role became even more important for my kin.”

“Cursed?”

“They wanted a weapon that could resist the vampires' bloodlust and take them down so they cast a spell on the lycans, twisting them into something . . . unnatural. They became stronger, fiercer, but the magic that empowered them also cursed their blood. It became a disease, their bites infectious, and their animality consumed them with a bloodlust that rivaled the vampires' own. They may have helped end the war, but the witches lost their control and the werewolves became just one more supernatural race walking the earth.”

“Do they only change during a full moon?”

“They have no control over their shift, not like the ferae do. Full moons are a big trigger for a werewolf.”

I sip my coffee and cautiously stare up at the bear of a man. “Do I need to worry about you changing on me?”

He laughs. “You're safe. I'm not cursed, so the moon doesn't affect me like it does them. I'm in full control of when I decide to shift and my thoughts are still mine when I do.”

“Right. So, you're a werebear.”

His lips quickly twist into a scowl. “I'm gonna pretend you didn't say that.”

Fair enough.

I finish my beverage and toss the cup in the trash, which smells strangely like coffee grounds. “So how long have you known Ashe?”

“Going on fifteen years now. She's a bit rough around the edges but she comes through when it counts. Ashe is about as loyal as any person can be.”

“What do you owe her?”

“Hm?”

“Earlier, Ashe said that you owed her. If it's personal or whatever then that's fine, I was just curious about why you'd agree to do this whole babysitting gig.”

He pauses, as if weighing the words on his tongue, before rolling his shoulders back in a shrug. “That's just her way of asking for help. She isn't good at asking.”

I scoff. “Has she ever tried?”

“Look, I'm probably one of the few people she trusts with something like this. Not sure if you've noticed, but Ashe isn't the type to have many friends. And she doesn't trust freely.”

He's getting defensive. As endearing as it is to stand here and watch him defend his friend, given what he is maybe I should change the subject. He may claim that he can control it, but I don't know exactly what would set him off and I don't want him to start shapeshifting in the middle of my living room.

“So I take it you don't know how to remove a soul ring, either?”

“You mean besides death?” He shakes his head. “Sorry, no one does. Not many people around who've ever seen one, either, so I wouldn't know who to ask.”

“Perfect. So this is my life now.”

“I don't remember you being this sour when you came to my club that night.”

“You mean before I was roped into your world?” I fish a scrunchie out of my satchel and throw my hair up into a loose ponytail. “Yeah, well, I think I'm allowed to be a little sour about all this, Marco. And I was nervous that night. No offense, but that's not really my scene.”

And I didn't know then that Ashe was a demon. For a flicker of a second I find myself wondering if that would have made any difference at all.

He chuckles. “I remember you saying something like that. But I saw how you made Ashe smile on that dance floor. I haven't seen her smile like that in a long time. It was . . . nice.”

I blink, taken aback by his admission. Her smile was radiant even in the pulsating flashes of the strobe lights, like staring into the sun. It engulfed me in its light and warmed me to my core. But even then her sun had been eclipsed and I sigh at the memory. “Then you also saw how short-lived that moment was.”

“I think you'll be good for her.”

I level my gaze with his but found only sincerity in his green eyes. “How would you know that? You only just met me.”

“Nature has a way of sniffing out the good from the bad, and I've smelled a lot of bad in Ashe's life to know that you're different.”

I imagine him thinking of Catalina when he says that and my lips curl into a small smile. I hope Ashe felt the same. But after getting into my current situation and the reaction Ashe has had toward being soulbound to me, I can't help but wonder if I'll ever see her sun again. After everything that's happened in the last forty-eight hours, even after learning what she is, I didn't think I'd miss something like that.

“Come on,” Marco says, downing the last of his coffee and throwing the cup away. “Let's get packing. Ashe'll roast us both alive if we aren't back before her.”

As I hand Marco a duffle bag and uncover an old suitcase set from my closet, we busy ourselves with removing any trace of my existence from the apartment. Clothes, pictures, books, any bill or piece of paper with my name on it—my entire life was packed away within a few hours and loaded up into Marco's truck.

“What about the lease?” I ask him as I throw away a grocery receipt. “This apartment's under my name.”

“Don't worry,” he shrugs as he opens the pantry and rummages through my canned goods. “Ashe'll handle it.”

“What's she going to do, break into the main office and steal my file?”

When he doesn't refute my question I shake my head. Of course she would do just that. “Why do I feel like none of this was thought out?”

At that, Marco laughs. “I think you're starting to understand how Ashe works now. She's never really had the patience for planning.”

Oh, great. I have to pack up and move in with an impulsive demon because of mysterious dangers, and said demon is literally flying by the seat of her pants when it comes to ensuring that aforementioned dangers don't find out who I am and come after me. And I'm being babysat by a lumberjack teddy bear.

It would be a miracle if I survived any of this at all.

***

It was growing dark by the time Ashe returned to the apartment.

“Did you take care of it?”

“Yep.” I click off the television and glance at my watch. “It's late.”

“I was working.” She doesn't look at me as she shrugs off her jacket and makes her way to her bedroom. “Where's Marco?”

“At the bar.”

She re-emerges a few minutes later wearing a loose-fitting tank top that exposed the sides of her bra through the dropped armholes, basketball shorts and her auburn hair thrown back into a messy bun. Was it just me or did someone turn the air down in here?

“He should've stayed.”

“He has a job, Ashe.” I keep my eyes trained on the blank television screen as I resist the urge to let them roam over her body—the chiseled features of her face, the curves of her hips and toned lines in her arms and legs, the silver chain link tattoo that swirled across every inch of her flawless skin. As a heat seeps into my cheeks like the onset of a fever, I'm convinced that her air conditioner is broken.

She should really get that fixed.

In an attempt to cure myself of this sudden heatwave, I clear my throat and add, “So do I, for that matter.”

“Absolutely not.” She walks into the kitchen, seemingly oblivious to the sudden change in temperature. “You can't leave.”

“And you can't keep me here!” Jesus, were we going to have this conversation again? “I have to go to work, Ashe. It'll look suspicious if I just disappear, especially since you've decided to relocate me.” I was still wrestling with my gut over agreeing to that decision. “My face will be blasted all over the news if I'm reported missing. Doesn't sound like you want that kind of attention.”

If she was about to retort, her words were silenced by the sound of keys jingling just outside.

I turn my attention to the front door and my heart sinks as the last person I thought I would see, or ever hoped to see again, walks into the apartment. Any heat that lingered in the air turned to ice in her presence.

“Ashe, why is there a human sitting on my couch?”