Dashing Devil Omnibus 2: Books 4-6, page 44
“Being a Hero,” Victory Seeker said, “requires more than just strength, skill, and courage. It requires an unblemished character and a purity of intent. With this… how can you stand as a symbol of hope, of justice? People will look at you and see their deepest fears personified.”
There was a pause, heavy and suffocating before Victory Seeker delivered his final blow, “I must insist, for the safety of all and for the integrity of what we stand for, that you withdraw from the Hero training program. It’s not just about you anymore, Boyd. It’s about the greater good.”
Boyd felt a coldness settle in his chest, a sinking realization that his mentor, his hero, had given up on him. The man who had taught him to face his fears was now telling him that he, himself, was something to be feared. It was a bitter pill to swallow, a moment that undoubtedly shaped his path forward, not as a Hero in the eyes of those he admired, but as something else entirely – something new, something undefined.
“Fuck you!” Boyd roared his response. Or, his Gestalt did at least, getting right up in his suddenly frozen Mentor’s face, leaning down so their noses were inches apart. “I’ll show you purity of intent! I’ll be the Hero this world needs and there isn’t a fucking thing you can do about it. How dare you spew this fucking bullshit then go on to support that scumbag monster while holding him up as some golden boy!”
“Tell him!” Silvie cheered from somewhere. “You don’t have to take that!”
“Damn right, I don’t!” Boyd’s Gestalt snarled into Victory Seeker’s face. “I’ve looked into my soul and found nothing worth fearing. Yeah, I like fucking, but I only like it when a woman is into it. Yeah, I like to take some time off for it and to keep the women I love happy, but I’m the hardest damned worker you’ll meet the rest of the time. I’ll never fucking stop and that scares you. You can’t stop me, and that terrifies you, you fucking has-been. Now, get out of my sight.”
With that, the memory faded.
Only to be placed with another encounter with Victory Seeker. “Always be vigilant, Boyd. The Changed are unpredictable. One minute they’re calm, the next, they could unleash havoc.”
“Fuck off!” his Gestalt roared again. “That only happens when sick fucks like you teach them to hate themselves.”
“Keep your guard up, Boyd,” another memory of Victory Seeker said sternly. “Those like you, the Changed, they often harm the ones they love the most—often without ever intending to. You are one bad day away from becoming a menace.”
“Pppttllllh!” Silvie made a raspberry sound. “Fat chance you jerk. The only ones Boyd might harm, are those who want to hurt those he loves.”
The process continued through more memories than Boyd thought he had. Mindy assured him that she wasn’t making up extras when he had the thought, it just happened so regularly that Boyd had forgotten more of them than he actively remembered. Each time Victory Seeker would warn him to fear himself, either Silvie or his Gestalt would shout the man down.
Eventually, Mindy returned him to the couch-bed, snuggled securely between two amazing women.
“Do you understand the purpose of the exercise?” Mindy asked softly.
“Am I really still afraid of myself?” Boyd asked. He thought he was rid of most of that after nothing went wrong with his regular semi-merging with his Gestalt.
“Subconsciously, yes,” Mindy confirmed gently. “As I just showed you, there is a lot that needs to be overcome.”
“Alright…” Boyd sighed. “I’m guessing that is preventing the merger.”
“Yes.” Mindy nodded into his shoulder where her head was pillowed.
“I’ll start working on it.” Boyd rolled his neck. He felt wrung out, but also incredibly satisfied. Screaming the thoughts he had withheld at the time into Victory Seeker’s face had felt pretty damn good. “Later, though. First, neither of you are going anywhere for at least a half hour, then I believe someone mentioned a pampering session?”
“Mhmm,” Silvie purred. “You were so strong and did really well, so I’m going to have Mindy ask Raev to set up something I was going to save for a special occasion.”
“Oh my!” Mindy replied to his silver-haired love’s dirty thoughts. “Yes, he’ll like that. I’ll pass that along. That was a fairly extensive use of my Power, so I’m going to take a little nap.”
“I’m just going to lay here,” Boyd rumbled as Silvie’s hand began to wander, apparently intent on getting an early start on his pampering.
“Me too,” Silvie said innocently.
“Kuh-he!” Mindy giggled. “Try not to take it too far.”
“Define too far?” Boyd smirked.
“If you wake me up, I’ll stop the fun.” Mindy yawned, creating a wonderful new game. “Kuh-he!” She giggled and yawned before sleepily mumbling, “I love you, my little shit…”
“I love you, too,” Boyd whispered as warmth filled his core.
Chapter 45
Boyd grinned as he fought the biological reaction of his pupils going to slits as at least a dozen very bright camera flashes hit them repeatedly. The thirty or so feet between the grav-sled that dropped them off and the door of the upscale restaurant had a red carpet and everything. It also had a press area just outside the velvet ropes that marked off the red carpet—the source of the camera flashes.
They were in Ironclad’s Bastion, one of the cities within the rapid response radius of the Osprey. They had flown in with the rest of the team who would stay on the Osprey at a nearby landing pad they had rented for the evening. Boyd and Raev had transferred to the expensive-looking grav-sled and would remain out of contact with the rest of the team for the duration of their date—unless an emergency arose.
They both had hidden comms in their ears, just in case.
For Boyd and Raev, this was a date at the illustrious Chateau Étoile. The others came along and waited a few miles away to ensure Boyd didn’t get devil-napped from the high class and discreetly guarded establishment. The Chateau Étoile had several C-ranked and B-ranked Powereds contracted to provide security through a firm that provided training to those who dropped out of the Hero program for one reason or another, but who were still combat capable.
That security and the press section were the reasons Silvie and Mindy chose the high-class establishment for his first public foray. Raev agreed, but for a different reason. The dance floor it contained had also been a priority, if an unofficial one.
Before The Devoted killed the Last Dragon, they’d planned on several public outings that included regular dates with each member of the team. Mindy had successfully pushed to scrap that plan for a couple of reasons. For one, having Kayla at the base providing regular updates and tidbits about Boyd and The Devoted kept them in the public eye and addressed the PR side of things. For another, Mindy had concerns about the woman who had sent the Porter, Stepper, to devil-nap Boyd back in Glorith City.
This woman-he-couldn’t-learn-too-much-about lest he somehow attract her attention might be, in the words of Director Davis, “agitated by Boyd foolishly exposing himself to an extremely dangerous threat.”
Boyd set those thoughts aside and turned his smile on his companion as she walked with her arm tucked through his as the camera flashes blasted them like strobe lights and the press shouted dozens of questions. Raev looked stunning in her deep green satin dress, so much so that they almost didn’t make it off the base. The plunging neckline, carefully cut to hint at the inner curve of her shapely if modest breasts, went to her sternum.
Large panels below that bared her toned midriff. This was, in part, out of necessity—much like the completely backless design— to account for her four fluffy tails. The dress draped from a wide golden belt in a way that clung to her hips. While the hem fell almost to the ground, a slit that ran all the way up her long leg on the right side exposed that shapely limb with each step… and the fact that if she wore anything at all, it couldn’t be more than the tiniest excuse of a G-string for underwear.
The effect that Raev crossing her legs in the garment had on Boyd almost resulted in them not making it out of the grav sled.
His Gestalt felt that the shoes had something to do with it. Stilettos were just… special.
This was true, even if the woman wearing them didn’t receive the posture-enhancing effects the fashionable torture devices provided. Due to a quirk of her Change that had her always walking on her toes, Raev’s amazing ass was always perfectly popped, her back always arched, and her chest always pushed out. Only on the kitsune, it had the effect of making her appear like she was ready to spring into action at the first sign of danger.
Both Boyd and his Gestalt agreed that it was a great look.
The special black stilettoes the woman didn’t need but adored anyway were quickly becoming an object of his admiration, as well. He noted they even had eye-catching red bottoms, though they were a little brighter than crimson, matching the lining of his wings and lower extremities.
Tonight, Raev’s fluffy ears stuck out of fiery curls that cascaded over her shoulders. The elaborate updo was held in place by what he was sure were countless fiddly little things that would only get in the way later. His kitsune had added smokey eyeshadow to the black that naturally rimmed her eyes. This made her emerald eyes seem to glow. She’d paired it with some soft pink lipstick and light contouring that brought out her natural, if slightly predatory, beauty.
Boyd was dressed to match in a dark green velvet blazer paired with a black dress shirt and tailored black trousers, all of which were Tinker’s creations. When he’d asked why the green blazer instead of the classic and timeless black, gray, or navy blue, Silvie had informed him that Boyd wasn’t like other men… and he was supposed to stand out tonight. Plus, since he could pull off just about any color, it would be fun to match his outfit to Raev’s.
Boyd had been primped as well, his growing hair had been lightly gelled and combed into a classic style that worked with his horns. That was Mindy’s doing, after his horns had been polished—which was something he had never done before but felt rather nice, at least when Silvie did it. The suede-like interior of his wings had been brushed and the leathery exterior lightly oiled, as well.
All four of his team had taken part in that step, which only highlighted Hopewing’s absence.
Once upon a time, Boyd would have detested the attention being paid his Changed features, but his Gestalt reveled in it. He’d quickly convinced Boyd to put his bullshit prejudices aside and enjoy his loves’ thoughtful care. The big Hero still had a ways to go, but he no longer felt disgust when he looked in the mirror—which is why he walked with his shoulders wide and level, and his chin up, back straight, at his full height.
He’d abandoned the subtle slouch he’d learned that shaved one point six inches off his height. He would only use it in the presence of civilians in crisis, so as to reduce their anxiety at his appearance. Gone, too, were his closed-lip smiles. Boyd had nice teeth, larger than normal canines notwithstanding. If anything, they lent a slightly dangerous edge that his carefully non-threatening expressions and gestures benefited from.
Boyd’s tail moved naturally behind him, curling back and forth as it brushed against Raev’s luxuriously fluffy appendages. His wings were tucked in, but not in the uncomfortably tight way he had been doing for so long. He let it bob a little with his steps, as it was meant to do.
He kept his movements smooth, taking measured steps and keeping his weight balanced. Sure, Boyd could throw his mass and strength around, taking steps that shook the ground under those nearby, but this was hardly the setting. Most ladies preferred a man who displayed some grace—especially those who valued their partner’s ability to dance.
Raev wasn’t his only target that evening, though.
Boyd was trending surprisingly well across every social media metric he could be expected to—meaning that if someone identified as Fundamentalist, they hated him. Everyone else seemed to like him. His approval rating was fifty-six percent, which was frankly fantastic, given he had to write off a third of the population right off the bat.
Kayla insisted that wasn’t the most telling metric. Boyd trended in the mid-seventies amongst the female demographic… and in the nineties amongst the key 18-25 age portion of that group. A shouted question about walks on the beach from a reporter in that demographic brought a grin to his lips.
“Sorry ladies and gents,” Boyd said jovially as he and Raev smoothly walked past the press section alongside the red carpet from the curb to the entrance, “I’m afraid we aren’t here on official business, so our orders prevent us from talking to the press.”
When several of them visibly deflated, Boyd chuckled.
“Besides,” he teased, “how many more questions could you possibly have? I answer an average of forty-three questions a day for Miss Bailey.”
He caught the young blonde reporter’s eye who had asked about walks on the beach, prompting a blush and a widening of her hazel eyes. “And I already answered that question about long walks on the beach in my CosmoHeroic interview.” He scratched his cheek. “That question keeps coming up for some reason. I guess you’ll have to wait for the next issue of CosmoHeroic to find out.”
He said this last with a devilish grin as he guided his foxy-lover past the flashing cameras and microphones.
The normally large—at least to everyone else—white-suited doormen gave Boyd wary yet awe-filled looks as he approached, but they didn’t hesitate to open the door for the two of them. Boyd nodded with a polite smile, “Thank you, gentlemen.”
The two Heroes didn’t stop their synchronized prowl until they reached the hostess’s podium. She was a pretty young woman with dark brown hair pulled back in a tight bun and blue eyes that widened dramatically as the pair came through the door and strolled up. Both the city and this establishment were visited by Heroes regularly and were Changed friendly, but it wasn’t every day that the guy who’d killed two city-killers in less than a month walked through Chateau Étoile’s door.
After glancing down at the nametag pinned to the pristine black vest she wore over a white dress shirt, Boyd gave the hostess a politely charming smile and rumbled, “Hello, Miss Rochelle, I believe we have a reservation under Dashing Devil? We’ve heard excellent things and are excited to be here.”
Leaning in a little, he dropped his voice to about as close to stage-whisper as he could get. “We’re off duty, for the record, so there’s no need for special treatment.”
“I thought it was a prank,” the pretty young woman breathed as she stared up at him with those wide blue eyes. They went a little wider as she clapped one hand over her mouth and then coughed into it before she nervously added, “I even made that grumpy… that lovely man who called… put down a deposit. I’m so sorry.”
Raev grinned at the hostess’ mortified expression. “That would be our Handler, Royce. He is excellent at his job, but he can be a little grumpy. We’re sorry if he gave you any trouble.”
“Oh, he was fine and didn’t give me any trouble about the deposit,” the woman said with a professional smile that made Boyd all but certain that Royce had griped about having to pay it. “The deposit will, of course, be returned now that you have arrived. Would you prefer it be applied to your bill or returned to the account?”
“I know Royce well enough to be certain he gave you at least a little trouble,” Boyd teased as he reached into an interior pocket of his blazer with his free hand. “Why don’t you hold onto the deposit and keep one of these for yourself. Please give the other two to the doormen.” He slid three credit chits onto her podium with a wink.
He had thirty such chits scattered across his pockets, each preloaded with a hundred credits. One of the reasons Heroes were arguably overpaid was so that they could impress civilians with their generosity. Between the deposit and that chit, Boyd had likely just given the young woman this month’s rent.
“I’ll make sure they get them,” the woman beamed up at him, smoothly shifting the chits into a pocket before looking over a tablet she lifted from her podium. “Now… let’s see about upgrading your table…” she said it absently, not looking for a response. “Ah, perfect! Right this way, please.” The hostess gave the two Heroes an excited grin as she waved them toward the dining area through an archway on their right.
Boyd and Kitsune smiled their ‘everyone’s looking’ smiles and trailed after her. The tables she led them past were set far enough apart to allow for some privacy so as not to make the well-to-do patrons feel crowded. Boyd was sure the place was normally filled with the low murmur of conversation and the clink of utensils on plates or the tink of rings against wineglasses.
Now, as Miss Rochelle led them to their table, a rolling hush moved through the place as a demon and kitsune made their presence known. It was enough that Boyd double-checked to ensure his Gestalt hadn’t sneakily let his aura out as a prank. His Gestalt told him that while such behavior might be wickedly delightful, it would disappoint Mindy.
Although most people’s moral codes held little to no value in his Gestalt’s eyes, Mindy had strong morals. And because they wanted her approval, he chose not to pursue his desires. Boyd thought his Gestalt wise.
Miss Rochelle led them to what was obviously the best table in the place, on a slightly upraised platform that would literally put them above the other diners and everything. Boyd felt a tinge of disappointment across his Bond with Raev as the hostess’s intent became clear.
He paused in his stride before approaching the table the hostess stopped beside, his foxy love coming to a stop behind him. “Excuse me, Miss Rochelle, would you please point out the table we’d reserved.”
“Oh, um…” she glanced to the tablet in her hand and then pointed to a smaller table near a gilded staircase that led downward. That whole side of the room had a railing instead of a wall that overlooked the dance floor.
“That was the table your Handler reserved, but it is considered one of our least desirable due it its proximity to the staircase leading down to the dance floor.”
