Liam Takes Manhattan (Elder Races #9.5)

Most of the public, if they had heard of Liam Cuelebre, prince of the Wyr, would think of him as the new addition to the Cuelebre family. They might remember the baby photos that his mom and dad had released to the media not a year ago. If anything, they would expect him to be approaching toddlerhood.

Even most of the Wyr who lived in Cuelebre Tower didn’t know the tall, broad-shouldered Liam who had emerged over the last two days. After flying all night and turning over the puzzle pieces of his trap, he found an odd sort of comfort standing unrecognized in line at the Starbucks on the ground floor of the Tower.

The dark-haired girl standing in line in front of him was cute. Really cute. She wore a tunic and leggings, and her gazelle long legs were sheathed in narrow black boots.

Evidently, she thought he was pretty cute too, as she looked over her shoulder and gave him a shy smile. Male interest sparked in his tired mind. As he took a step closer and opened his mouth, someone tapped his shoulder.

When he turned, he found Hugh standing behind him. Instantly, the small pleasure of sharing a smile with a pretty girl evaporated, and the invisible trap sprang around him again.

“What’s up, sport?” Hugh asked, his plain, bony face creased in a smile.

Hugh had been his babysitter and bodyguard for several months now. Retired from active duty in the Wyr military service, Hugh had a long rangy body, lethal combat skills and a mild, soft-spoken manner, and while Liam loved the gargoyle, the last thing he ever wanted to ask a girl he’d been about to invite out on a date was if she had met his nanny yet.

He snapped, “What are you doing here? Did Mom or Dad send you?”

Hugh’s smile faded and his hand fell away. “No, I havna talked to them this morning.” His Scottish accent was usually faint, but it sounded more pronounced when he was upset. “I was just getting in line to grab a cup of coffee and saw you standing here.”

Remorse prickled Liam’s conscience. Giving up on the idea of flirting with the girl in front of him, he rubbed the back of his neck and muttered, “Sorry. I didn’t get any sleep, and I’m short-tempered right now.”

“Don’t worry about it,” Hugh said. “It’s been a tough week for everybody.”

“Yeah, no kidding.” Whenever Liam thought of Constantine’s still face on the funeral pyre, he wanted to cry or fly into a rage. He had cried, in the dark of the night when he had been alone.

Con had been family too. He did not want to see the other male’s death as an opportunity. He did not.

The line moved, and the girl walked away with her drink. Liam placed his order for a cup of black coffee and Hugh did too.

As they collected their drinks, Hugh walked over to the nearby stand to stir three packets of sugar into his coffee. Liam followed and hovered near Hugh’s elbow, his thoughts and emotions as unsettled as they had been when he had left the penthouse the night before.

Without looking at him, Hugh asked quietly, “Feel like talking? Or do you have some place you’ve got to be?”

He knew his mom would be fretting about him, and probably his dad too, if Dragos fretted about anything. He needed to check in upstairs, but he wasn’t ready to face them yet. Not until he managed to put himself in some kind of order and had at least some idea of what he needed to say, if not what the end result of the conversation might be.

Blowing out a breath, he replied, “Sure. I mean, if you’ve got the time. You’re supposed to be off this week.”

Hugh’s rare smile appeared again, lighting up his face. “I always have time for you, sport. Come on.”

Walking out of the Starbucks, Hugh led the way to the large open food court area by an indoor fountain. Several tables were available. As they settled into chairs, Liam gulped at his coffee and looked around. He recognized several of the people at other tables, but nobody glanced at them or appeared to recognize him. By virtue of the acoustics and the noise of the fountain, the area was as good a place as any to have a private conversation.

Hugh removed the lid from his coffee and blew on it. “What’s going on?”

“My life is all knotted up,” Liam muttered. “And I don’t know how to untangle it.”

The gargoyle gave a slow, calm nod. “Why don’t you start with one piece and let’s see what happens.”

The cute girl walked by. Slouching in his seat, Liam watched her until she was out of sight. He said, “I feel so damn guilty.”

“What on earth do you have to feel guilty about?”

The surprised kindness in Hugh’s expression brought unexpected tears springing to his eyes. Shoving his fingers through his overlong hair, he blinked rapidly until they disappeared.

Sometimes things felt so raw that they were almost impossible to say out loud, no matter how much privacy one had. He forced the words out through gritted teeth. “I feel sick that Constantine is dead, but I feel even sicker about the fact that he was barely cremated before I took advantage of it.”