by Julie Kenner
I shrug, because I know I’m not expressing myself very well, in part because I’m not ready to tell him everything about my life before. About how reality has always seemed a little skewed and overwhelming to me, partly because I’ve seen it through the eyes of my mother.
And how even though I know—I know—that everything that is happening with him is true and real and amazing and terrifying and so many other things, at the same time there is some tiny part of me that fears that it’s all a delusion. Because while being in Mal’s arms feels real, the memories that have been creeping back do not.
Mal, of course, knows none of my fears. But apparently he does know me, because he murmurs, “Well, this isn’t fair. My pants and T-shirt made you happy, but now I’ve gone and done something to make you melancholy. Should I just go and leave you alone with my clothes?”
I shake my head, knowing that I should let him in, but unable to dredge up the words. I do trust him—and when I’m in his arms there is no denying the intensity of the connection between us.
So why the hell can I not tell him my fears?
“Hey, it’s okay.” His voice is soft, and he turns me in his arms so that I am facing him. Then he lifts my chin and brushes a soft kiss over my lips. “You don’t have to be scared.”
I look up, wondering if he also has the power to read my mind. And then I think that maybe his real gift is the power to loosen my tongue, because suddenly it’s all spilling out of me. “It’s just—okay, it’s these memories I’m getting back. They’re like a dream. A nice dream, sure. But they don’t feel real to me. They’re like, I don’t know, information that I read in a book. Interesting, but not a part of me.”
Mal is looking at me as if what I have to say is the most important thing in the world, and that look of pure attention gives me the courage to go on.
“But you …” I trail off, feeling a bit at loose ends, then move across the huge room to sit on a padded bench. “I met you and the world fell away. And when I see the way you look at me, it humbles me.”
“All I’m seeing is the woman you are,” he says, moving to sit on the edge of the tub near me.
“Are you? Because I worry that you’re seeing a woman who I’m not even certain exists anymore.” I think of all those things in his office. Souvenirs of my other lives—I don’t even remember most of them. They have no meaning to me. But they do mean something to him.
“Oh, lover, no.” He moves off the tub to kneel in front of me, and takes my hands in his, then brushes a gentle kiss over my knuckles. “You’re my mate, Christina, and neither time nor distance nor death can change that.”
I nod. In our original world, our dimension, the mating ritual formed a permanent melding of two life forces—energy—that even death could not break. And I know that by reminding me that we are mated, he is trying to soothe me, but his words have the opposite effect.
I tug my hands free and start to pace, because I’m too antsy to stay still. “There is a connection between us, and it is amazing and wonderful, and I do not deny it. But a few days ago I didn’t know it existed. I didn’t even know you existed. But you’ve had thousands of years to build this up in your mind. To fantasize about having Christina—having me—back in your arms. In your bed.” I swallow and look down at the floor. “What if the woman you remember isn’t the one who is here with you now?”
He stands as well, then takes my hand and tugs me to a stop. “This isn’t a game or a passing fancy,” he says. “We’re connected, Jaynie,” and his use of the name that I was given in this life brings tears to my eyes. “I feel it. And lover, I know that you do, too.”
I realize that I am nodding, accepting and acknowledging that one basic truth.
“I’m willing to start there,” he says simply. “To hold tight to this vibrant and beautiful woman who fills me. And I look forward to exploring her. To learning everything about her.”
His eyes meet mine, and I see the passion of his words reflected back at me. “And lover, we have all the time in the world to know each other. Physically. Emotionally. Intimately.”
He strokes my cheek, and it is only then that I realize that I am crying and that he is brushing away a tear. “Tell me you want that, too.”
“Yes,” I whisper, meaning it fully. He has, in that incredible way of his, managed to not only assuage my fears, but make me feel incredibly lucky that this man belongs to me.
But still a question lingers, and I have to ask it. “But do we, Mal? Do we really have all the time in the world?”
He cocks his head. “I’m immortal. Or hadn’t you heard? I haven’t aged a day in a very, very long time.”
“You haven’t,” I say. “But I have.”
I can tell by the way his face turns totally expressionless that this is not something he’d thought of. That amid the thrill and drama of both finding me and not killing me, the problem of what happens to me if I continue to live and breathe hadn’t occurred to him.
And when he moves to sit on the tub again—when he draws a breath and says, “Oh, Christ,” I know that I have actually managed to throw Malcolm Greer for a loop.
Somehow, that accomplishment doesn’t make me proud.
“Why?” I ask. “Why do I age and you don’t?”
He shakes his head. “The same reason your essence remains contained when you die. The same reason you die at all. The same reason that it is always you when you are reborn, fully and completely, even though the body is different.” He looks up and faces me. “It’s the weapon. Somehow, having the weapon inside you changes everything. We’ll get it out, and you’ll be as you were, okay?”
I nod, feeling just a little numb.
“Because I am not losing you again. Not ever.”
“No,” I whisper. “Not ever. But how? How will we get it out of me?”
He glances at the clock—it’s almost four.
“That’s what we’re going to go see about now.”
Chapter 7
‡
The debrief takes place in the private courtyard that connects Mal’s brownstone to Number 36, and when we arrive, Jessica and Liam are both already there. She comes to me immediately¸ but Liam only nods, then signals for Mal to join him.
“Is the nod good or bad?” I ask Jessica, as I watch the two men. Mal, tall and lean, commanding and strong, with what I think is a truly exceptional ass filling out a pair of well-worn jeans. Liam, big enough to be a professional football player, with an air of power tempered by the kind of eyes that ensure that people not only trust him, but obey him.
“The nod is good,” Jessica assures me. “It means you’re not so much of a problem that he has to take the time to handle you.”
“All right, then.” I’m actually feeling a bit smug, but that fades when I see Asher step out of Number 36 to join us in the courtyard. He looks at Mal and Liam, then looks at me. And though I expect him to ignore me, he comes over.
“I should apologize for trying to kill you,” he says, the formality of his words sounding very odd considering the subject matter.
“Oh.” I have absolutely no clue how to respond.
“It was inappropriate of me, and I regret my decision to ignore not only the chain of command but a direct order.”
“Um.” I say, which is not a big improvement on my last remark.
“You should apologize,” Jessica says. “You were an utter ass.”
Ash inclines his head, his copper-colored hair glinting in the lowering sun. “So Liam has told me.” He shifts his attention back to me. “I also want to let you know that it’s nothing personal. As I said before, I’m very fond of you, and always have been. But I think it’s a mistake for you to be in corporeal form when you are playing host to the fuerie’s weapon. And I want to apologize prospectively for arguing my position in that regard today.”
I gape at him. “What the hell are you talking about?” Still not the most articulate of responses, but better than I’ve managed before.
“
I’m going to tell Liam and Mal that I want them to rethink their position. You were attacked by the fuerie. There will be more attacks. You’re a goddamn magnet, and while the upside might be that you draw them in and we take them out, I think we all know that the downside is significantly more severe.”
“Goddamn it, Ash,” Jessica says.
He holds his hands out, the picture of politeness. “I’m just keeping Christina in the loop.”
I want to bite out a sarcastic reply, but I can’t manage to conjure the words. And so Ash just nods his head in a parting gesture and goes to join Liam and Mal.
I start to follow, but Jessica grabs my sleeve and pulls me back. “Mal won’t change his mind, and nothing Ash can say right now can change Liam’s. Let them be. Really.”
“Nothing he can say right now?” I repeat.
Jessica lifts a shoulder. “You’re a risk—we all know it. But Mal talked to Liam and told him you two are working hard on your control.” She shrugs and I try very hard not to look mortified as I hope and pray that Mal didn’t tell Liam how exactly we were working on that.
“Right now, the risk is minimal,” Jessica continues smoothly. “And the truth is, everyone wants you here.”
I frown. “Everyone but Asher.”
Jessica’s mouth pulls into a thin line. “Yeah, well, he’s a little conflicted. He does like you—you remember you two were good friends?”
“I believe you,” I say. “But no, I don’t really remember.”
“Well, you were. Oh, hell, we all were. But what happened in Alexandria hurt Ash the most.”
“Alexandria?”
Her eyes widen, and then she closes them as she takes a deep breath. “Shit. You don’t remember.”
“What happened?” I hear the urgency in my voice.
For a moment, I think she won’t answer. “You almost went nuclear,” she finally says. “Mal got to you before it got completely out of control, but it was bad. And a woman Asher cared for—”
“She died.” My voice is flat. Numb.
Jessica doesn’t reply. She just pulls me into a quick, awkward hug. “I’ve missed you, Christina,” she says when we pull apart. “And don’t worry. We all understand that it’s not your fault. And we get that you don’t remember everything yet, too. But we were friends back in the day. I hope we will be again.”
“So do I,” I say, and I really mean it.
A moment later, she raises her hand to motion someone over, and I turn to see Dagny approaching with a curvy blonde. They’re both casual—Dagny wears a pair of paint-stained yoga pants and her auburn curls are piled on top of her head and held in place with a chopstick. The blonde is in jeans and a law school T-shirt, with her hair pulled back into a ponytail.
“Christina,” Dagny says. “It’s great to see you again.”
“You, too,” I say, feeling a little weird. I’d had no idea who I was—or what she was—when we met in Dark Pleasures Saturday night. “Did you just come from Brayden’s?”
“Yup. He says hi.”
“You told him you were coming here?”
“Sure—oh, I haven’t told him everything. Just that I had an owners’ meeting and that Mal would be there and that probably meant that you would, too.”
“I’m glad it’s going well,” I say, and though I mean it, I’m also worried about the secrets. And about Bray getting hurt.
“He’s really great,” Dagny says. “The truth is, I gave up dating a long time ago. Too painful.” She lifts a shoulder in a tiny shrug. “But Brayden makes me want to dive back into the pool.”
“What do you mean?”
There’s no time for her to answer, though, because the blonde approaches and holds out her hand to me. “I’m Callie. I’m with Raine.” She glances around. “Well, not at this particular moment, but you know what I mean.”
I laugh, because I do. “I’m with Mal.”
“Don’t anyone say anything interesting until I get back,” Dagny says. “I’m starving.” She moves over to where a spread of light snacks is set out on a table on the far side of the courtyard.
“She can eat anything and not gain an ounce,” Callie says, then grins. “Bitch.”
I laugh. “So, um, Raine,” I say to Callie. “I remember him, I think. But I can’t picture him.”
“He looks a lot different than when you knew him,” Jessica says. “He’s pretty much covered in tats these days.”
I remember the man with the tattoos who’d been sitting next to Malcolm when I first saw him at Dark Pleasures. “Tats? From the phoenix fire?”
Callie nods.
“How many times has he—”
“Too many,” Callie says sharply, and I realize that I have hit on a sore point.
“Raine’s close to the hollow,” Jessica says, and though I can tell from her voice that it’s serious, I don’t know what that means.
Jessica sees my confusion and exhales. “We’re immortal,” she says. “But that refers to the body. Too many times into the burn and, well, it hollows you right out. Raine was reckless for years and now he’s close. If he dies again, he may not come back even when he comes back.”
“I’m sorry,” I say, as Callie shoves her hands in her pockets and looks at the ground.
I clear my throat. “So, I think I do remember Raine, at least a little. But I don’t remember you at all,” I say to Callie.
She lifts her head to look at me, and I think that she’s grateful for the change in subject. “We kind of knew each other back in the day, but I wouldn’t look familiar to you.”
“Kind of?” I ask, as I take a tiny sandwich off the plate that Dagny has returned with.
“Livia,” Dagny says. “Part of Livia’s essence is inside Callie.”
“Livia?” My memory is like an unfinished jigsaw puzzle with several pieces still missing. But the piece with Livia is there, and I shake my head in wonder. “But I thought Livia was thrust back into the void.”
“So did Raine,” Callie says.
“So did everyone,” Jessica clarifies. “Turns out her essence remained and ended up twined with a human’s, but not melding the way we did. The human died, her essence got diluted. And on and on. A lot of time. A lot of births. A lot of lives. But at the core, some of Livia still remains.”
I frown, because I know that I am not like that. I’m entirely me, one-hundred percent undiluted Christina.
And all because of the weapon.
I’m about to ask another question when I hear Dante’s voice over the general hum of conversation. “Sorry! Raine and I got tied up on Skype with Trace. Didn’t mean to keep everyone waiting.”
“It’s fine,” Liam says. “But let’s begin. Everyone take a seat.”
There is a large rectangular table over to one side of the courtyard, and as the group heads that direction, I hang back, intending to sit in one of the lounge chairs and just listen. Mal, however, puts a quick stop to that plan. “With me,” he says. “You are entitled to a place at the table as much as any of us.”
“Am I?” I can’t help glancing toward Asher as I speak.
“Yes,” he says firmly. “You are.”
I consider arguing—telling him that I’d be more comfortable hanging back and just soaking it all in—but I realize that he and Liam have both stood up for me. Not just because I am Mal’s mate, but because what and who I am ensures my place in the brotherhood. So, yes, I will sit at the table.
Mal pulls out a chair for me between Raine and Jessica, but he sits at one end of the table while Liam sits at the other.
Liam calls the meeting to order, then asks Dante to give his report.
“I’ve checked in with all the field offices,” he says. “No surprises. Trace reports that the London office took out two more fuerie in the last week. Paris is still running hot. Rachel tells me the terrorist bomb threats are continuing, but her team has managed to take out three of the bombers and foil four attacks, so I’d say it’s under control even though it’s not
yet resolved.”
He continues to run through a list of foreign offices, then looks at Dagny, silently giving her the floor.
“Smith tells me he’s up to speed on Los Angeles, so I guess that makes me a permanent New Yorker now,” she says. “And I’ve checked in with Chicago, Dallas and Seattle. Nothing out of the ordinary.”
“And here?” Mal asks, looking to Dante once again. “Have you sensed any fuerie around our perimeter?” He shifts his attention to me, and I understand what he is asking: Is anyone coming after Christina?
Dante shakes his head. “Nothing. But we all know my range is limited. They could be out there, just keeping to a wide perimeter.”
“All right,” Mal says. “Then let’s move on to Phoenix Security. What have we heard from Munich and the Liesl Albrecht kidnapping?”
“Wait,” I say, and everyone turns to me.
I’m not exactly sure what I mean to ask, and I look to Mal for help. He leans forward, clearly about to speak, but Liam does so first.
“Apologies, Christina. It’s unfair to have you at the table and yet not have you fully briefed.” He glances at everyone. “Any objections to taking a few moments to catch Christina up?”
No one objects. From the tone of Liam’s voice, it is clear that it wasn’t really an open offer.
“You’re aware of our primary mission?”
“Of course,” I say. “To capture and render the fuerie inert.” I don’t say kill, since the fuerie is a malevolent energy, and energy can be neither created nor destroyed.
When we set off on our mission to regain the weapon and stop the fuerie, we were tasked with trapping the fuerie’s energy and either returning it to our world so that it could be bound in a containment cell for eternity or thrusting it into the netherworld between dimensions. Essentially imprisoning it there where it could do no harm. Not death, but as close as could be achieved for a creature of pure energy.
I say all that at the table, and am impressed with myself by how much of my memory returns simply as I talk about it. I glance at Mal when I’m finished and am warmed by his small nod of approval.
