by Fiona Zedde
I don’t even know how I agreed to this. One second, we were in bed talking about her cousin’s upcoming farce of a hearing, Mai’s body shivering with sympathetic rage against mine, and the next, I was promising I’d go with her to her family’s next dinner thing.
How was I supposed to know it was so soon? A week doesn’t seem like enough time to prepare for something like this.
“You’re not welcome, Mandaia-Pili Redstone.”
A pinch of my side lets me know—again—how much she hates being reminded that she’s named after her mother.
Despite the bright color on her lips, which is probably called something like “Don’t Kiss Me Kate,” I pull her closer and press my mouth to hers. The feel of the matte lip color is powder smooth, and I sigh with pleasure when her lips part and give me just the smallest bit of suction along with the distant flavor of the mint toothpaste Mai used before we left her condo.
Pussy-whipped. That’s the only reason I’m dressed like I’m really here to meet the parents and make nice instead of ripping every single one of their throats out.
But Mai wants me to be good, so here we are.
The front door opens just as I lean in to kiss the perfect curve of her mouth one more time. Delicately sweet, the scent of a thousand flowering plants flows out from the house to meet us.
“Mai, you’re on time for once.” Instead of one of their many maids, it’s her brother, Cayman, who answers the door. “And you brought company. Come on in.”
My mind automatically retrieves the basic information I know about him.
Cayman Gregory Redstone. Second born of three children to his parents, Mandaia and Quinn Redstone. Thirty years old. Moderately powerful telekinetic and dissatisfied mama’s boy. If Mandaia asked him to murder a hospital full of Meta babies, the only question he’d ask is, “Should I make them suffer?”
That last is only my opinion, of course.
He’s wearing designer jeans and a dress shirt under a tweed jacket with elbow patches. Clothes for a semi-formal dinner, just as advertised. I half expected them to tell Mai it was semi-formal while everyone else showed up in pearls and tuxes. Just to make her look less-than.
Cayman’s assessing look down my body is probably meant to get some sort of reaction out of me. The little bastard is no better than the rest of his family, so I don’t waste a smile or anything else on him. He steps back to allow us across the threshold of their home, a house protected by human security systems as well as those designed by Metas, engineered to counter any human or Meta methods of trying to break in.
“Good evening, Cayman. Lovely to see you as always.” Mai sidesteps her brother’s attempt at kissing her cheek and loops an arm around my waist. “This is Xóchitl Bentley. I told you and Mother I would invite her to dinner with us.”
Things are supposed to be better between Mai and her brother now. Months ago, when he found out that their cousin Ethan was a murdering, sadistic piece of trash who’d fooled nearly everyone else in the family into believing he was just a normal Redstone—whatever that is—Cayman was shocked.
From what Mai found out and later told me, he hated that he was manipulated by his cousin, and by his uncle, who also happened to be another murdering, sadistic piece of trash. It was my pleasure to take out the garbage. He said he was sorry, and Mai thought that meant their relationship was about to change for the better. But it’s been a slow process.
Cayman tosses off a bow in my direction in acknowledgment of the introduction. “Of course, your colleague at the university. Isn’t fraternizing against the rules over there?”
“Since when do you care about human rules, Cayman?”
“I don’t, but I know you do. Something that never ceases to amaze me.” He shuts the door with a muffled bang. “Especially now that your increased powers show you just how much better than them you are.”
Mai rolls her eyes and pushes past him into the massive foyer, her arm still around my waist. A look over my shoulder confirms Cayman’s eyes are glued to my ass. I wonder if he’d do the same thing if I was his brother’s girlfriend instead of his sister’s.
While the siblings exchange their version of pleasantries, I look around the house. Of course it’s an impressive and huge thing with marble in all the right places, and a spiral staircase leading from the foyer and up to mysterious rooms above. Orchids in a rainbow of colors, delicate vines dripping with pale flowers, and blooms of every imaginable type perch in corners of the grand hall and from the ceilings.
The flowers are beautiful and smell like a piece of paradise, but when touched by Mandaia’s power over all things in nature, they become pretty weapons. Vines that she can grow to the size of trees to kill and destroy. Soil she could force down someone’s throat and choke them to death. The possibilities are endless and oh-so delightful.
This house is everything I expect of Mandaia Redstone, head of the powerful Redstone Family and North American Meta matriarch.
As an official resident of North America, I’d been technically welcomed to the annual Conclaves held here. These are big annual gatherings of the Families of the region where important unions, decisions, and even births are announced. Some couples even choose to get married at Conclaves. Then there’s a gigantic party.
But my family isn’t an important one to include in any of the main events, and after Ixchel was killed, I became more closed off, staying in Mexico with my aunts and the various cousins except when I was away on enforcer business. Or business of my own.
And now, here I am, in the house of the man who killed my sister, among people who would gut me where I stand if they knew who I was and what I’d done.
The things I do for love.
“Mai!” A shriek of happiness comes from the top of the marble stairs. “I wasn’t sure you’d come!”
A woman, very nearly just a girl, runs down the staircase still speaking in exclamation marks. This has to be Mai’s little sister, Abi. Twenty-three years old and just broken up with her Swiss boyfriend. Recently moved back home from Switzerland and spending time trying to get to know her sister whom she’d been separated from by years of boarding school and family drama.
Still happily babbling, she throws her arms around Mai just as I step out of the way to prevent myself from being the casualty of a too-enthusiastic hug.
“This is actually perfect,” Abi says, laughing in her happiness. She has to look up at Mai who is even taller in what I call her dominatrix heels. “I was going to text you and ask about this new movie that’s showing at the arts cinema. It’s all weird and lesbian-y. I think you’ll love it.”
“Sounds perfect. Why don’t we have tickets already?” Mai smiles through the hug, holding her sister just as tightly as Abi holds on to her. There’s a desperation there that’s beautiful to see.
“Because I was hoping I’d see you and invite you in person. Texts are great but seeing you is a thousand times better.”
The girl looks so happy that it seems fake. But maybe it’s because I don’t expect any sort of authentic emotion from a Redstone other from anger or uncontrolled vice. Mai excepted, as always. The two women keep talking—well, Abi does, while Mai indulges her. A smile on her face, like she’s looking at her daughter instead of her sister.
At first glance, the two women don’t look anything alike. With her thick afro and agate skin, cuffed slacks, and high heels, Mai looks delectable. Both severe and sexy.
In her green West African-print jumpsuit and with her loose curls tumbling around her bronze and glowing face, Abi looks like the happiness Mai should’ve had as a child.
“Come meet Xóchitl,” Mai says between one of her sister’s enthusiastic bursts of words. She moves a hand behind her like she doesn’t have to look to see where I am, and because I am always close enough for her to touch, I grasp her fingers in mine. “She’s the woman I told you about.”
&nbs
p; “Oh! She’s gorgeous!” She leaps away from her sister with a soft laugh. “Please excuse my bad manners, Xóchitl.” Abi throws out both hands to clasp mine and pull me just the tiniest bit closer to herself and away from Cayman who’s still watching us.
Is it my imagination? No. Her mind is as blank to me as most Metas, but her body language is clear. She’s wary of her brother. Why, I wonder…?
“Thank you for the welcome, Abi. Your sister dragged me here by the ears, but I’ll endeavor to be as polite as possible.”
Her eyes widen the tiniest bit. “Honest, aren’t you?”
“I try to be, unless lies are necessary.”
She flicks a gaze to Mai and rolls her eyes. “Of course you’d bring home someone as impossible as you.” My hand drops from hers. “Come on, let’s go into the salon while they’re getting dinner ready.”
A peek at the massive clock perched among other antiques on the walls tells me it’s exactly the time Mai was told dinner was to start. I bite back a sigh. Socializing before the food. Right. People do that.
Mai’s fingers link with mine, and the three of us lead Cayman toward a set of doors off to the left. It’s a salon, a bit more low-key than the foyer and its impression of extreme wealth and luxury forced on visitors. The long, L-shaped leather sofa is the shade of fine tobacco. A pair of forest-green velvet armchairs littered with yellow pillows and the Turkish rug spread over the hardwood floor give the room a welcoming impression of color. The tall windows show off views of the wide porch, the night-muted grassy hill, and the road leading down to the end of the gated courtyard. Flowers and vines rest in built-in nooks all over the place.
And, of course, Mandaia Redstone reigns over it all.
Her husband is in the room as well, but despite his impressive Meta powers, with his wife so close, he is easy to overlook. He’s dressed more or less in the same way as Cayman and looks resigned to being here.
Mandaia sits on one of the large, high-backed velvet armchair like a queen on her throne. Her smooth skin and midnight-black shoulder-length curls betray not even a hint of her fifty-four years. A simple butter-gold dress shows off her slender but curvaceous figure and high, black heels complete the look. As we walk into the room with Abi chattering away, she smoothly stands.
“Mandaia-Pili.”
Mai winces but attempts a smile. “Mother.” With a grace that mirrors her mother’s, she crosses the room to exchange a light press of cheeks while Abi watches them, smiling, her hands clasped in front of her. If not for Abi’s reaction and the fact that I know Mai hasn’t been together with the entire family like this in months, I could be fooled into thinking this is normal.
“I need a drink.” Cayman heads to the bar where his father stands pouring whiskey into a nearly empty glass. He takes the bottle once his father is finished with it and makes himself an impressive drink over ice.
“I’m happy you made it, Mai,” her mother says with a light squeeze of her hands.
“Well, I’m glad we could all finally get together like this.” A minute shift happens on Mai’s face, a hint of her slight unease with this new detente.
Damn. I want more for her. But she’ll never get it from these people.
Mai clears her throat. “Mother, meet Xóchitl. She’s the woman I’m seeing. I think it only makes sense for you two to meet.”
What she doesn’t say is that if I’d been human, she never would have brought me here. Politics in the Meta world can crush an unwary or oblivious human. Not to mention the games we play that always end up being for keeps.
“Madam.” I nod my head in acknowledgment of Mandaia Redstone and her power. Nothing else. “Thank you for welcoming me into your home.”
“Wait.” For a moment, a tiny line links her eyebrows. “I know you.”
“No, you don’t.”
All sounds stop in the room. No clinking of the ice in Cayman’s glass. No breaths. Even Abi’s mindless chatter stops.
Mandaia doesn’t know me. She’s seen me before, though. Dressed as an enforcer, masked, and pissed off while arresting her nephew for murder. Caught up in the adrenaline of the moment, I took my mask off then. But the face I showed to her and the rest of the people in that room wasn’t my real one.
“You seem very sure,” Mandaia finally says, her eyes more assessing the longer she looks at me.
My jaw clenches. I should’ve kept my mouth shut but even at the best of times, that’s hard for me.
Mai clears her throat. “She’s just very plain speaking, Mother. I’m sure you remember what that’s like.”
I slide her a narrow-eyed look.
There’s no need to apologize for me, I send to her. I said what I said. It may have been ill-advised but I damn sure won’t take it back.
Mai’s lips press tight. Xóchitl, please!
Swirling gold eyes the same shade as Mai’s try to dissect me. Not looking away from me, Mandaia says, “I’m sure she can speak for herself, daughter.”
“That I can certainly do,” I agree without blinking.
Really, I should keep a low profile, especially with the secrets I’m trying to hide, but this family makes me want to burn everything in sight to the ground.
“Um.” Abi looks between me and her mother. Confusion and discomfort catch her lower lip between her teeth, but she seems determined to do something about settling the tension in the room. She heads toward the bar where her father and Cayman still stand. “Would you like a drink, Xóchitl? Mai?”
Mai looks like she wants to pinch a few pounds of flesh off my hide, but she still steps toward me, a hand held out to take mine. “That would be—”
“Sorry I’m late, everyone. Did I miss anything?” A woman stands in the doorway with a hand perched on her hip. Long hair, loose and dark, down to her hips. A figure-hugging maroon dress. Ballet flats. Her smile is perfectly bright and perfectly sharp, every inch a Redstone.
I brace myself to face yet another one.
Chapter 7
From the way the new woman is just standing there, it’s obvious she thinks she’s blazingly gorgeous. Her teeth flash with amusement, and her dark green eyes touch every one of us like she’s imagining taking us each to her bedroom. Everyone except Mandaia Redstone.
“Caressa.” Cayman is the one who greets her. “We were wondering if you were even going to show up.” He raises his drink in her direction, and his smile is welcoming enough.
After greeting Mandaia with an oddly formal bow, the woman slips across the salon to pluck the drink from Cayman’s hand. “Hopefully this is for me,” she purrs. “After the day I’ve had fighting with the other Republicans in DC, I really need a drink.” The sip she takes from the glass is dainty enough, but she doesn’t blink at how strong it is. “They need a healthy dose of leadership up there, people who lead with power and strength instead of this ridiculous compromise.”
She says the last like it’s a dirty word.
Mai rolls her eyes and moves toward the woman. “It’s good to see you, Caressa. I didn’t realize you were coming to dinner with us tonight.” She looks briefly at me, then offers an answer to the question I hadn’t asked yet. “She’s one of the family, a cousin.”
Although I nod, I don’t need Mai to tell me who this is. Months ago, I memorized the Redstone family tree, even the more obscure branches. Caressa Redstone MacTavish is a fifth cousin, related to Mai by only a hint of blood. Officially, she’s an empath, level four at most. She’s also an American senator. At forty years old, she’s one of the youngest, and apparently one of the most influential behind the scenes. Already I can tell she’s going to be annoying.
I manage something that resembles a smile in the cousin’s direction. “The more the merrier.”
“I’m afraid I invited myself.” Caressa exchanges brief hugs with Mai. “I’d heard you were coming over and since we haven’t seen eac
h other since the Conclave last year, well…” She shrugs, smiling down at Mai in a way that should make my hackles rise but instead only makes me wonder why she’s trying so hard.
Caressa gently disengages herself from Mai and makes it over to me, drink still in hand. “You must be the new woman Mai’s been talking about non-stop.” Her eyebrow arches, and there’s definitely flirtation in her smile.
We exchange proper greetings, and I quickly move back at her attempt at the European double cheek kiss. Her perfume is strong. I don’t want it on my clothes.
“It’ll be interesting getting to know you.” I take her hand and give it a single, firm shake.
“Since you’re here and meeting the family, I’m guessing you’re…one of us?” The question tilts up at the end, and I smile at its clumsiness. She holds onto my hand longer than necessary before letting it go.
“Something like that.” I tuck my hands to safely behind my back.
From the peanut gallery, Cayman makes an impatient sound. “Of course she’s one of us. Even my sister isn’t stupid enough to bring a human here.” Then he looks up from pouring himself another drink, his gaze narrowing at Mai. “You’re not, are you?”
A flash of annoyance burns bright inside Mai, but she turns her back on her brother without bothering to reply. Her fingers ghost over my arm, a grounding touch for both of us. “He’s always been a little slow,” she says to me.
Cayman snarls.
Abi appears at my side with a pair of drinks. The one she hands me is Bailey’s on ice. “I hear you like it sweet and creamy,” she says with a cheeky grin before offering Mai a glass of white wine.
Mai pokes her sister in the arm and hides a smile with the rim of her wine glass. “Ignore Abi,” she says to me. “She’s just being a brat.”
How she can smile in this house of rabid dogs is beyond me, but that curve of her mouth does something to me. My fingers twitch from the desire to pull her close and, despite the off-putting company, taste the smile on her vermillion lips. Instead, I put the glass of Bailey’s to my mouth. The creamy flavor of it is almost as intoxicating as Mai’s.
