Their arrival at her mother's home on the north side of the city was yet another distraction—and Mikail was stunned. Why one woman needed such a large abode was beyond him, but Joan owned a home that rivaled the Temple of Satora in size.
The rustic dwelling was constructed of wood and stone masonry with a long driveway winding through a thicket of trees to a car port where they parked. Kivsey was grateful to learn that her mother was asleep judging by the lack of light coming from the windows, and invited Mikail inside without hesitation.
Stepping through a side entrance into the kitchen, he learned the interior was just as lavish while following his mate to her bedroom on the second floor—and their stately surroundings actually worried him.
If this was the type of comfort Kivsey was used to, how could she ever be satisfied with his own offerings?
His abode was a shack compared to her mother's, and though Kivsey didn't live here now, she confirmed that it was her home growing up. So perhaps he needed to look into work that would pay enough money to acquire something she would appreciate.
Still, that came later. For now, her safety took priority, and he wasn't slow to announce his intentions of scouting to learn the area.
Kivsey promised to have a meal prepared by the time he returned, and the mere mention of food made his stomach rumble painfully. But he didn't let it didn't distract from learning the layout of the home and the surrounding grounds, which were secluded from neighboring dwellings by numerous trees.
A tall, stone wall encompassed the backyard, with a swimming pool at the center amidst a colorful garden. Two large dogs contained behind a fence at the far end growled when he passed them under cloak, proving their senses were indeed keen. Good. They'll be helpful in detecting intruders.
As Mikail had the thought, and was taking note of places assassins might use to their advantage, a light came on in the house. Turning his gaze in that direction, he realized it was on the first floor, and caught sight of a silhouette moving across the wall in the study.
Must be Kivsey, he thought, heading toward the back porch for a closer inspection, only to learn he was mistaken—the shadow belonged to a man.
The brief glimpse he caught of the figure as it turned down the hall didn't reveal much outside of his attire, being a suit and tie, and long, white hair secured in a ponytail at his nape.
Could he have been a visitor? Perhaps Joan had company they were unaware of, but Mikail couldn't let it go without inspection, and wasted no time entering the house under cloak. Silently making his way into the hall connecting with the kitchen where the man was heading, he watched the stranger stop near the island counter as the scent of food wafted through the air, proving Kivsey had cooked.
But his mate was no where in sight. She must've prepared the meal and then left the room, perhaps to look for him, and though he wished he knew her current whereabouts, his more pressing interest lay in the strange man just ahead.
Carefully, he emerged in the kitchen, coming up behind the intruder to learn that his current target rivaled him in size, though he seemed oblivious, too busy inspecting a pot on the stove to notice the Dok'aal sneaking up behind him.
Still, Mikail hesitated, uncertain what to do. Under normal circumstances, he'd use the man's distraction as an opportunity to raise his blade and demand to know the reason for his presence. But the question remained as to whether this stranger was unwitting of the supernatural and wouldn't be shocked by such an occurrence.
However, his concern proved to be unwarranted.
As soon as Mikail was in range, the stranger turned more swiftly than he could keep track of to clutch a powerful fist around his invisible throat. The pressure effectively cut off his air supply, and grew even more uncomfortable when the man lifted him from the floor with one arm.
Only then did he turn his gaze as if to inspect his catch.
Still choking, Mikail reacted by drawing his blade and jabbing it forward, successfully impaling the intruder through the chest. His weapon stabbed so deeply the tip jutted from the stranger's back—but it didn't have the desired result.
Instead of releasing Mikail and stumbling backwards, the stranger merely glanced down at the sword embedded in his chest with a loud, bored sigh, followed by muttering, “I thought you were one of them.”
The comment seemed strange, at least, until Mikail noticed something specific about the man's visage—his eyes. Both were a clear, sky blue, made more luminous by two radiant halos of light.
In Satorala, Kivsey mentioned divinians possessing such a feature, meaning this man was likely to be one, and probably worked for The Crucible.
So was he here because of Kivsey's notice? Whatever the case, he used his free hand to tug Mikail's sword from his chest while setting him safely on the floor before inspecting the blade with a halfhearted apology.
“I noticed you sneaking around the grounds outside, so I let myself in to find Kivsey before you could cause her harm. But now I see you're the Warlord who saved her life, not one of the nameless.”
His comment proved beyond a doubt that he was here because of her notice, though his guess at Mikail's identity was strange considering the mask he wore to look human.
Maybe darkwalking had tipped him off, but all Dok'aal possessed that ability, not just the Warlords, prompting the question, “How do you who I am?”
He motioned to the blade. “Only Warlords forge weapons using Aeonite.” Running his thumb across the edge, he nodded as if impressed by its quality, then handed the sword over. “Did you make this yourself?”
Taking it, Mikail nodded and pushed the weapon back into its sheath as the stranger added, “You may want to keep it somewhere out of sight. In this world, such weaponry will only cause unwanted questions.”
That much was already clear, but he neglected to say so in favor of asking the stranger's identity.
“And you are?”
“Ardilon, a divinian investigating Kivsey's case.”
Hearing this, Mikail supposed he'd judged The Crucible too soon in thinking their indifference meant they'd dismiss the case entirely. Furthermore, Ardilon's skill detecting a darkwalking Dok'aal—not to mention his lack of reaction to being impaled through the chest—definitely proved he was capable of handling the threat of assassins.
It was a relieving thought, allowing him to focus on the present situation.
“Did you speak with Kivsey?”
“No. She's fallen asleep on the couch, so I decided not to disturb her and simply waited for you to make an attempt on her life.”
With a brief nod, Mikail nearly asked what he intended to do now. But just as his lips parted, the bristled end of a broom smacked the back of his head without warning.
“Who are you!” a woman demanded. “What are you doing in my house!”
With each question, the broom repeatedly smacked Mikail, making it nearly impossible to see who was holding it. But between hits, he finally glimpsed his assailant clearly enough to realize she looked too much like Kivsey to assume this was anyone but her mother.
The only differences were her blue eyes, short hair, and thinner face—and she thankfully ceased her attack in noticing Ardilon.
“You?” Looking between the men, Joan's gaze narrowed suspiciously. “Did Jennifer bring you here? Or is something wrong?”
“Not quite, Miss Yates,” Ardilon returned on a casual tone, walking over to place a hand on her shoulder while reaching for her broom with the other.
Strangely, the woman didn't resist his attempt to take the item, and only stared blankly as he added, “There's nothing happening right now that you'll need to remember later. So just go back to bed, and in the morning, everything will be explained.”
As if caught in a trance, Joan's nod of agreement was made as slowly as she spoke the words, “I am tired.”
With a quaint smile, Ardilon patted her shoulder, then allowed her to turn and leave the kitchen without another word.
Once she was gone, Mikail asked, “Was th
at some kind of … divine trick?”
“We have influence over mortal minds, yes,” the divinian answered, setting the broom against the wall. “Typically, we only use it to make certain humans don't recall the things they've seen, but Joan doesn't like me due to her leeriness of the supernatural, so it's best if she forgets I was ever here.”
After Kivsey's earlier description of Joan, that seemed like a good idea. It also added validity to their plan of keeping the true nature of their relationship a secret—not that he thought she'd do much damage where it concerned winning his mate's affections.
But it was a problem he didn't need at that point in time. Things were already tenuous, so the truth could wait, and in the meantime, Mikail focused on learning Ardilon's plans.
“So what are you going to do? Watch this place to make sure no one attacks?”
“Actually, I thought that would be best left to you,” the divinian returned. “Kivsey is your mate, after all, and who better to put in charge of her protection?”
Though Mikail didn't disagree, he could use the assistance, particularly in this foreign world.
But it seemed Ardilon wasn't quite finished, adding, “Besides, assassins looking for her will first check her apartment, and I only came to inform her that I'll be keeping it under watch for the next few days.”
That was reasonable, though Mikail didn't hesitate to inquire, “What will you do to anyone you capture?”
Ardilon turned a scrutinizing look in his direction, remarking, “That depends. Why? Do you have a preference for their fate?”
“Not specifically. But we were eavesdropping on Gyles tonight because we have reason to believe a betrayal is taking place, and we didn't manage to get much information. So I'd like the chance to interrogate anyone looking for Kivsey myself.”
Though the divinian nodded understandingly, he asked, “And you're doing this for Arias, correct?”
“Yes.”
In response, Ardilon's countenance almost seemed irritated. Yet he didn't comment over why, and merely turned to the door, stating on the way out, “I'll keep it in mind.”
Brows narrowing, Mikail moved around the island counter to follow the divinian, stating, “Wait, does that mean you'll—”
Coming to an abrupt stop, he looked down the hall where Ardilon should've been standing, only to find there was no one in sight. It seemed the divinian had teleported away without offering indication over whether the chance to interrogate any assassins—or even Gyles—would ever present itself.
A groan escaped Mikail's throat. But for as irritated as he was by the unexpected development, he didn't question Ardilon's intentions for long. Instead, his attention was snagged by the sound of Kivsey's voice asking his name.
Turning around to find her standing in the doorway leading to the living room, she rubbed a bleary eye and asked, “Did I just hear my mom yelling?”
Something about her sleepy visage had him smiling as he walked over to tuck a strand of wayward hair behind her ear with his answer.
“I'll explain it in the morning after you've gotten some rest.”
At that, he turned and lifted her from the floor to carry down the hall.
“I'm okay,” she insisted on the way. “I just dozed off waiting for you to come back.”
“Are you sure? You look tired.”
“I am, but I'd like to get a bath and change my clothes before bed. So tell me why I heard my mom yelling.”
Nodding, he turned at the stairs and carried her up, informing her of Ardilon's visit on the way. By the time he was done, they were standing in the private bath of her bedroom—and the lavish environment nearly distracted him too much to finish his explanation.
Yet, in relating Ardilon's abrupt departure via teleportation, Kivsey made it sound as if he disappeared all the time in muttering, “Of course he did. But don't worry, I'm sure he'll give us a chance to question whoever he finds. Or he'll pass on information himself.”
Setting her down next to the tub, Mikail inquired, “Have you known him long?”
“Yeah, about seven years. Why?”
“Because he didn't sound happy to learn we're trying to help Arias.”
Kneeling at the edge of the tub to flip the nozzles and test the water's temperature, Kivsey replied, “Oh, Stephan told me he's concerned because he's not convinced I realize how deceitful Arias can be, and Ardilon seems to think I only agreed to help him because we'd struck some deal. So I explained to Stephan that I'm just returning a favor, and Ardilon probably doesn't know that part yet.”
“Are you sure?”
Standing straight, she gave a confident smile and nodded. “You said Arias only shows up in Satorala from time to time with information, right?”
“Right.”
“Well, Ardilon kind of works the same way. It's hard to get in touch with him directly, and I doubt Stephan's had the chance to inform him of the facts. But Stephan hates Arias anyway.”
“Why?”
In response, she informed him of how Arias had infected Stephan with an alchemical illness while he was trapped and injured in a vampire lair—and she didn't sound at all happy with the fact.
“Why do you think he'd do such a thing, Mikail?”
“I have no idea,” he admitted plainly. “All I do know is that Arias does nothing without purpose.”
She pursed her lips, then shrugged and mentioned, “I guess it doesn't really matter. Judging by what he told us at The Nexus, he knew there was a chance to obtain a cure for the illness if he infected Stephan, and I'm just pissed that his life was put at risk for it.”
Mikail was almost jealous to hear such concern for the vampire in recalling Kivsey's confession of once finding him appealing. But the fact that Stephan was now involved dulled the sting of his instinctive reaction, and he couldn't fault Kivsey for being upset that a friend's life was put on the line.
Yet he couldn't say he held the incident against Arias, either. Perhaps Stephan had suffered due to his actions, but it seemed the vampire had found happiness with Maddox—the way he gazed at her made it easy to see they were deeply in love.
So he didn't comment, and besides, his attention was drawn to the tub when Kivsey flipped a switch near the base of the wall. In turn, the water started circulating from various points along the rim.
“Your tub has a spa?”
“Yeah,” she confirmed plainly.
Pursing his lips, he asked, “Do all tubs have them here?”
“They're not standard,” she started, standing straight to face him. “Why? You look annoyed.”
Realizing he was frowning, Mikail hid his irritation with a shrug. It was easy to appreciate having such a feature to enjoy, yet he couldn't help wondering if this was something else his mate needed to be comfortable.
But he didn't want Kivsey thinking he was annoyed by his surroundings, and answered casually, “I'm just trying to get used to the way things work here.”
Canting her head, she inquired uncertainly, “Are you sure?”
With a nod, he leaned to kiss her forehead, then mused, “I suppose you'd like for me to leave you to your bath, but I'd be a liar to say I don't want to join you.”
She gave him a look mixed with desire—and enlightenment. “Oh yeah? And is this your way of making me ache with anticipation?”
He grinned, murmuring on a deep voice, “If I wanted to make you ache, I'd tell you about how I'm planning to pamper you by washing every inch of your body during long, lazy baths.”
“Oh?”
Nodding, he pulled her body fully against his and continued, “I'd start with your hair. Make sure it's clean and thoroughly rinsed, then move down your shoulders and chest to spend time lavishing your breasts before working my way across your back, your stomach, and finally your legs. Then I'd spread them wide open.”
Breathless, she insisted, “And?”
A languid smile raised the corners of his mouth in answering. “And I'd spend the most time between them, was
hing you, then fingering you just so I could do it all over again.”
He'd planned to seal that promise with a kiss only to find her eagerly leaning up without prompting. Their mouths locked together, and Mikail backed her against the door, nearly forgetting his intentions of allowing her to bathe and rest while he grabbed some of the food she'd prepared.
He slanted his mouth over hers, his cock so hard he thought his pants would rip open—and the moan Kivsey let into his mouth didn't help matters.
But she soon broke contact by turning her head and rasping, “Okay, things are getting personal again, so I think you should go eat.”
He grumbled under his breath, hungry for more than food would provide. Yet he respected her wishes, exiting the bathroom once she'd opened the door and urged him through it.
Still, Kivsey stopped him after he'd stepped out by stating, “By the way, I'm not the only one who's going to be aching when the time comes.”
“No?” he started, looking back—and his thoughts came to a screeching halt.
After removing her top, she casually unsnapped her bra and shamelessly tugged it off, revealing her plump breasts to his ravenous gaze.
His eyes swept over every inch, from the rounded swells he ached to touch again, to the curves of her sides flaring at her hips as she unbuttoned her jeans. The vision of his mate topless enthralled him so thoroughly her reply took a moment to register.
“Not at all, big guy. So the next few days will be interesting.”
At that, she smirked and shut the bathroom door in his face.
A possessive growl erupted from the back of his throat that only grew louder at the sound of the lock latching. But despite her teasing, he grinned in knowing she was right.
The next few days were going to be interesting indeed.
CHAPTER TWENTY EIGHT
♦
Five Days Later
“Don't tell me you have another headache, Jennifer.”
Rubbing her eyes beneath her glasses, Kivsey offered a silent nod of confirmation, then looked up to see her mother's reflection frowning at her.
Sitting behind her vanity mirror, Joan sighed. “I think that job of yours is more stressful than you'd like to admit.”
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