Her stomach twisted, the small breakfast she’d eaten this morning threatening to make a reappearance. She bit her lip to keep from demanding him not to do this, knowing it was too late when a guard tapped on the passenger window. Another approached the driver’s side. Pistols strapped to their hips.
Issac rolled down the glass and removed his sunglasses to peer up at the security officer beside her side of the car. “Good morning,” he greeted, his tone deceptively pleasant. “I’m dropping off a guest for Jonathan Fitzgerald. I think you’ll find he’s expecting us.”
The robust man didn’t even look up from his clipboard as he asked, “Name?”
He didn’t hesitate. “Issac Wakefield.”
Two almond-shaped eyes popped up, his dark eyebrows rising. “I— I need to phone this in.”
“Of course,” Issac replied. “We’ll wait.” He relaxed into his seat as if he hadn’t just alerted CRF security that an Ichorian wanted entry.
She had so many questions.
So many concerns.
But the open windows kept her quiet.
While one soldier went into the booth to make the call, the other stroked his weapon, his focus on Issac.
Were his gifts already moot?
She glanced at the stone columns on either side of the entrance, roughly five feet before them. Are there runes etched into the rock? she wondered, searching for patterns that her eyes refused to identify.
“He’s clear,” the male called from the booth. “Fitzgerald will meet them in the parking lot.”
By the casual use of the surname, Stas assumed he meant Tom.
“Cheers,” Issac said as the gates opened. The windows closed around them as he shifted forward through the stone pillars, his shudder visible as they passed.
“Have you lost your fucking mind?” she demanded, furious.
“You’re allowed to put your life at risk, while I’m not?” he countered, his sideways glance one of admonishment and disbelief. “That is not how this will work between us, Aya.”
“Damn it.” Her fists clenched, her heart beating a mile a minute.
If something happens to him…
If they catch him…
God, she’d never forgive herself.
“Issac,” she whispered. “You can’t do this. Not for me.”
“It’s already done.” He navigated into the parking lot off to the side of the building—an area reserved for diplomats and VIPs. Apparently, Issac qualified.
Unless this was a trap.
Would the Sentinels run out to grab him?
In broad daylight?
She glanced around the vacant lot, noting the normal afternoon air and the lack of movement.
Just a typical work day with a handful of empty cars.
“You asked me to trust you, Aya. Now it’s your turn to do the same.” His arm came around the back of her seat, his body angled toward her, the car humming beneath them. “Command me to do something, love.”
She continued to survey their surroundings, while Issac appeared completely relaxed beside her.
No worries.
Not even a frown line in his forehead.
“How are you so calm right now?” she asked, her nerves straining her voice.
“Who says I am?” He tugged on a strand of her hair, forcing her to look at him. “Command me to do something,” he repeated. “I need to know your gift is unimpacted by the wards. Please.” A hint of emotion deepened his irises to an alluring sapphire, his expression otherwise blank.
He’s concerned not for himself but for me.
She didn’t know how to feel about that. No, that wasn’t right. Of course she did. Because she felt the same way. They were surrounded by potentially dangerous elements, and all she cared about was his safety, not her own.
“I want you to do everything you can to leave the CRF grounds the second I shut the passenger door.” Persuasion laced through her words, the demand as natural as speaking. She sensed it seep into his pores, his very being, saw the flash of recognition in his gaze, the acceptance in the flare of his pupils.
“Well played.” He wrapped his palm around the back of her neck, pulling her closer. “Sexy as fuck, too.” He kissed her hard, his tongue conveying some sort of hidden message, a secret she couldn’t grasp. Not with her mind whirring, her body chilled from the very real possibility that Issac could be caught, or worse.
“You need to go,” she whispered urgently. “It’s not safe here.”
“I could say the same to you, love.”
“My gift is fine. I’ll be okay. I promise.”
He pressed his forehead to hers. “And now that I know that, I feel marginally better about leaving you here. There is one item I would like to request, if you’ll entertain it?”
“Don’t ask me to retract my demand.” Because she wouldn’t. Which proved she believed his accusations about the CRF. Otherwise, she wouldn’t be so panicked.
And I’m about to waltz into the viper’s den.
“No, it’s something more personal.” His thumb brushed her pulse. “You’ve healed from the Conclave. I want to re-mark you. It’s a sign of devotion, one Jonathan will both understand and respect. It will also provide proof of our ongoing affair.”
“You want him to know I’m yours,” she translated.
“I do,” he admitted softly. “Because it means if he hurts you, he’ll have to contend with me. And considering the tenuous nature of our relationship, I don’t see him wanting to draw more attention unto himself.”
She understood what Issac truly desired—to protect her. This was a way to help him feel more confident about the situation, to know he’d done everything in his power to keep her safe aside from entering the building with her.
How had their charade melted into such intensity? Or had it been that way from the beginning? A part of her, some foreign sliver inside, had bonded to him on a level that superseded existence. That piece of her urged her to deepen the connection, to allow him this simple favor.
Because whatever he craved, she craved, too.
She nodded, understanding him in a manner that surpassed logic. “Can you make it quick?” she asked softly, aware of their location, but also knowing why he needed this.
“Not a statement most women say around me, but yes, I can.” He nuzzled her jaw, his hand already pulling her hair to the side. “Just know I’ll want more later.”
“You could have fed last night,” she reminded him, her voice huskier than she intended. They’d spent most of the evening hours lost between the sheets, even enjoyed dinner in bed—a dinner Issac had prepared.
But he never bit her. Even when she offered.
“Mmm, but I did.” The words were spoken against her throat. “I licked every inch of you, Aya. And I intend to do it again tonight.” His incisors pierced her skin, the sharp prick giving way to a sensation of euphoria that stole her breath.
She clutched the lapels of his jacket, her heart hammering in her chest.
Oh… This was inappropriate. Wrong. Not the right place. Yet the indecency of it only heightened the moment.
His name fell from her tongue, both a warning and a plea wrapped up in one. Stas couldn’t decide if she wanted him to stop or keep going. But he made the decision for her, pulling away with a satisfied gleam in his eyes.
He cupped her cheek. “Jonathan would be a fool to touch you now.”
A sharp rap on the window caused her to jump away from Issac, her gaze flying upward to Tom just outside her door.
Shit.
Issac rolled down the glass. “Thomas.”
“Wakefield,” he returned. “Brave of you to enter the grounds.”
Her demon arched a brow. “I could say the same about you venturing into my estate.”
“Touché.” Tom stuffed his hands into the pockets of his jeans. “I appreciate you dropping her off. You’ve been noted as a nonthreat and will be permitted to leave without issue.”
“Much appreciated
.” Issac reached over for her hand, giving it a gentle squeeze. “I just need one more minute with Astasiya.”
Tom nodded, taking a step back. “I’ll be on the sidewalk.” He pointed to the path running alongside the building. Not waiting for confirmation, he left as the window slid upward.
“Your edict still stands,” Issac murmured. “I’ll leave as soon as you step outside.”
She blinked. “You can feel it?” Odd that she couldn’t. Except, she never really did. Would her control over it improve when she became a Hydraian?
“Mmm, it would seem your desire for me to escape unharmed is strong.” He removed his hand, a smile on his lips. “I’m actually quite flattered, as it shows you care.”
She unbuckled her seat belt. “Like you needed that to know.”
“You’re not the only one new to these emotions, Aya,” he said softly. “Be safe. Please.”
She paused with her hand on the handle, looking back at him.
What if I never see him again?
Don’t think like that.
“Issac—”
“Don’t, Aya. Don’t say anything else. You’re coming over this evening. No arguments.”
She swallowed, nodding. “Yeah. After the meeting. I’ll be there.”
“You’d better.” He lifted his hand, his fingers light against her chin. “Be safe, my Aya.”
“I’ll see you soon,” she promised.
“I know.” He ran his thumb over her bottom lip, then pulled her in for a searing kiss that imprinted him on her soul. “Don’t hide the mark.” He gathered her hair over one shoulder while he spoke. “And remember what you can do.”
“I will,” she whispered, opening the door. “Now safely leave the grounds.” That twinge of compulsion stirred inside her, punctuating her words on instinct alone.
“Call if you need a pickup, Aya.”
“Okay.” She grabbed her purse and shut the door, refusing to say goodbye. It felt like a bad omen.
Something tugged against her soul as he put the car in drive, her heart in her throat as she watched him exit the lot.
She needed him to be safe.
To leave without issue.
Walking quickly to the corner, she watched as he navigated the grounds, not a single person or object in his path.
Then he was at the exit.
The gates lifted.
Electricity hummed over her skin as he passed through the cement columns unscathed, her breath leaving her on a sigh.
“I’m a man of my word, Stas,” Tom said, having joined her. “You know that about me.”
She glanced up at the much taller man, taking in the sincerity and hurt lurking in his eyes. “It’s hard to know who to trust right now,” she admitted. “All the lies. The secrets. This secret world of immortals.” She shook her head, tears pricking behind her eyes as the emotions of the last few weeks caught up to her at once. “I don’t know right from wrong or up from down anymore.”
“Ah, Stas.” He wrapped his arms around her in a hug filled with adoration, brotherly love, and affection. Such familiarity. Such warmth. “I’m so sorry.” Soft words saturated with such heartbreaking honesty that she couldn’t help but return the embrace.
“You’re going to make me cry,” she accused, knowing full well it wouldn’t be him at all, but the stress of their situation. God, she couldn’t decide if she wanted to weep or scream or run like hell.
But Tom was right. She knew him. He may have kept a huge, devastating secret from her, but hadn’t she done the same? She hid her ability to compel from everyone, even her closest friends.
“Will you ever forgive me?” he asked, his heart in his voice. “For the other night?”
That all depended on what happened today, what she learned inside the walls of the CRF. “I can try,” she said instead, unable to voice the truth. Another secret between them, joining the vault with countless others.
How could she be angry with him for hiding a world from her when she was guilty of the very same crime? Even now, she intended to help Mateo break into the CRF records.
It’s the right thing to do.
Is it, though?
Maybe. Yes.
She sighed, stepping back, meeting his troubled gaze. “I’m ready to see your dad.” To determine the truth once and for all.
He nodded. “He’s waiting for you, too. Let’s go.” He gestured for her to follow, his much longer legs carrying him across the concrete in wide strides. She kept pace, gripping her purse as her breakfast churned in her stomach.
This is it.
Deep breaths.
The creepy black flag hanging over their heads seemed to taunt her entry. Memento Mori. White cross. A curse of death.
And not the omen she needed right now.
“You’ll need to check your purse and your phone,” Tom said conversationally, standing beside the metal detector just inside the entrance.
She nodded, placing her bag on the conveyor belt.
The card seemed to burn in her pocket, as did the tiny camera on her blouse—one she’d forgotten about until just now.
Mateo promised it would pass the scanners.
She hoped he was right.
Tom walked through, the system blaring loudly in response, mocking her.
Perspiration dotted her spine, her hands, her brow. Oh God…
The officers said nothing to Tom, completely aware of who he was and not caring at all that he’d set off the alarms. He wore a pistol on his hip, something no one seemed to mind.
Had he brought that outside because of Issac? Or did he always carry a firearm?
“Stas?” he prompted, his expression concerned.
“Sorry,” she mumbled. “I, uh, just expected them to make you go back through.”
He chuckled and scratched the days-old stubble dotting his jaw. “They’re used to me setting it off, aren’t you, boys?”
Two of them snorted. The third just looked bored.
Right.
So, he always kept a weapon on his person.
Good to know.
“You can go through,” one of the security guards said, his shoulders twice the width of hers. Not because he was overweight. No. That was all muscle.
Noting all their younger ages and stature, she finally put something together.
They weren’t security guards at all, but Sentinels. Like Tom. Hence, the easy camaraderie between them and militaristic features—short hair, clean-shaven, athletic forms.
How had she never noticed that before?
Because you didn’t know the organization might be evil.
“Stas?” Tom gave her a look, one filled with curiosity and concern. Because she was acting like a crazy person, frozen beside the metal detector.
That doesn’t make me look guilty at all.
She forced a laugh. “It’s been a really long weekend.”
His features softened a bit, understanding bright in his chocolate eyes.
A couple of employees entered behind her, likely returning from an early lunch break.
Now or never, she told herself. I really hope you did your job, Mateo.
She crossed the threshold.
28
Truth and Deception
The rhythmic drumming in Stas’s ears drowned out all sound around her, including Tom’s voice as he handed her a temporary badge from the security desk.
She slid the lanyard over her head.
Nothing happened.
No one tackled her.
They didn’t request a pat-down.
Just a bunch of nodding Sentinels, two of which smiled at her warmly.
Mateo’s devices hadn’t set off the alarm.
I’m losing my mind over nothing, she realized, mentally shaking herself. What if all this was a complete misunderstanding? Yes, the CRF dabbled in the immortal world. But maybe Issac and the others had the wrong opinion on it.
“Ready?” Tom asked after securing her bag with the Sentinels.
&n
bsp; She nodded. “Yes.”
“Cool. Follow me.” He led her to a bank of elevators on the other side of the three-story lobby and swiped his badge. “You went down here for your polygraph, yeah?”
Unfortunately. “And my medical exam.”
His brow furrowed. “Medical exam?”
“Yeah, with Doctor Patel.”
His expression darkened, almost to the point where she wanted to step backward. “Doctor Patel gave you a medical exam?”
The elevator dinged before she could reply, her throat suddenly dry.
Tension tightened his shoulders, his square jaw clenched as he scanned his badge to select the lower level. “What did she do during your exam?” he asked as the doors closed before them.
Stas swallowed. “Standard things, at least until the vaccines.”
He muttered a curse, shaking his head. “Fuck.”
“Your dad said it’s not common procedure.”
“It’s not,” he growled. “Not at all.”
Her pulse quickened as they stepped into the underground cavern of endless white hallways. A sensation of wrongness crept over her, similar to how she felt during the Conclave. Except Issac wasn’t here to protect her this time.
She caressed the mark on her neck, the two pinpoints against her skin providing a false sense of comfort.
“This way,” Tom muttered, his steps clipped.
They took a different path from her last visit down here, one that led them through a room of armed military men.
Oh, I hope you all are seeing this, she thought, remembering the camera against her blouse. Because this can’t be normal.
There were so many guns and cameras and mirrors. Every wall. Covered in thick two-way glass.
Energy crawled over her skin. Not the good kind, but the bad kind.
“You’re breaking protocol, Fitzgerald,” a deep voice said from their left. Two brawny arms corded in muscle crossed a burly chest that left her gulping.
Not the kind of man you want to piss off.
“Bite me, Hawthorne.” Tom swiped his badge against another door to lead her away from the hostile guards.
“They seemed friendly,” she said as he took a left down a dimly lit hallway. No cameras this way. Interesting.
“They’re assholes.” He kept moving, his boots shuffling against the white tile until a familiar blond male turned the corner with a raised eyebrow. “Where is he?” Tom asked by way of greeting.
Vote Then Read: Volume I Page 152
