by Olivia Ash
“But I just—”
“Again.”
He sighs, clearly seeing where this is going. “I’m sorry.”
“Again.”
“I’m—” He groans. “Rory, I’m sorry.”
“Again.” Still looking away from him, I can no longer suppress my wicked little grin.
I wonder how many times I can get away with this.
“I’m sorry,” he says once more, his voice strained.
I peek over my shoulder at him, trying to hide my smile, and catch his eye. It takes a moment for him to catch on, but he lets out a frustrated chuckle and shakes his head. “You’re insufferable.”
“You deserve it.”
He laughs. “I guess I do.”
As the last of my rage burns away, I sigh and slip my hands in my pockets. I don’t love the way he tested me, but I can kind of understand why he did it.
I can forgive him—as long as he doesn’t pull anything else like this.
Ever.
His laughter fades, and he sets a strong hand on the back of his head, closing his eyes as he tries to center himself. “We should probably—”
“Tell me why, first,” I interrupt.
He looks at me with a quizzical expression. “What?”
“Why you feel so fiercely about me that you would give up your title.” I set my hands on my hips, refusing to budge until I get an answer. “What attracts you to me enough to sacrifice everything.”
I need to know.
Before we take another step, I have to know this is real and not some ploy. He tested me—and now, I’m testing him.
The final test.
The edge of his mouth curves downward. “You already know why.”
“Say it.” My voice is soft, so low and tender that it comes out more like a request, rather than a demand.
He frowns, squirming a little, looking over his shoulder as though he would rather be in a fistfight than talking about this.
It’s kind of cute, actually—to see such a powerful, burly man rendered utterly uncomfortable by something as simple as his feelings.
With a frustrated growl, he crosses his arms and leans his back against the wall. “You challenge me, alright?” He sighs. “You push me and show me all the ways I can be a better man. You’re my equal in a sea of the mundane. You don’t want anything I have except my time and company.”
He shrugs, looking away as he pauses for a moment to think.
“I’m used to gold diggers,” he admits. “Women who just want to use me to climb the social ladder or spend all my money. I’m captivated with you because you’re genuine.” His jaw tenses, and he finally looks at me with those warm brown eyes. “You’re a partner, rather than a dependent.”
I smile, satisfied with that answer, and playfully wrinkle my nose. “God, you’re so mushy.”
He laughs and nudges my shoulder, pushing me slightly off balance with his sheer strength. “Ass.”
“You like it.”
“I love it,” he admits, flashing me that wickedly mischievous grin of his.
That’s probably the closest I’ll ever hear him come to telling me he loves me, and I’m surprisingly okay with that.
Feelings aren’t really my thing, either.
And just like that, we’re golden. Nothing else needs to be said.
“What do we do now?” I ask, walking down the hallway toward the castle. “Jace isn’t going to take the news about your dad well.”
Drew shakes his head. “He can’t know.”
“But—”
“Rory, seriously, we can’t.” Drew catches my eye, his tone deadly serious. “Out of obligation and per the law, Jace would have to declare war on the Darrington line for violating a neutral zone. That is a huge deal. My father is powerful, and everyone in this dojo would end up dead. It would be cataclysmic, and he would be brutal to make an example of the Fairfax family for having the audacity to actually come after him.” Drew frowns, his jaw tensing in dread and disgust. “Unless he does something publicly that the whole world can see and hold him accountable for, he can skate under the law and get away with literal murder.”
I grimace, utterly disgusted. “That’s why Garrett never got any justice.”
“Exactly. No one had any proof of how Garrett died—it was all rumors and accusations.” He sighs. “We really do get away with murder.”
“Damn it,” I mutter, rubbing my jaw as I think over our options. “I hate the idea of letting the asshole who drugged a whole dojo get away.”
“And that leads me to my next concern,” Drew says ominously. “I’ve been wondering how the soldiers got in at all, but I couldn’t figure it out until I saw him in the tunnels. He hacked my phone.” Drew catches my eye. “He found my codes. That’s the only way this plan could have worked.”
“You didn’t share those with him?”
“Never,” Drew says abruptly. “I knew he would try something like this if he had that info. These tunnels are supposed to be tightly secured, and I broke about forty laws getting them. But if he hacked my phone—” Drew grunts in revulsion and pulls the device out of his pocket. “I have to wipe this thing immediately and get another, one he can never access.”
Drew pauses at a keypad on the wall and punches in a code. A live feed of the empty hall appears on the display, and he taps another sequence into the keypad to open the door.
As it slides open, we slip into the hallway, alert for signs of life.
Around the corner, someone moans in pain. I perk up, alert and listening for the origin of the sound.
There—the rustle of fabric. A bit of slurred muttering.
Someone’s waking up.
I peek around the corner to find a Fairfax guard sprawled over the carpet, weakly trying to get on her feet. Her arms keep giving out, so I rush over to help her up.
Still groggy, the brunette mumbles incoherently when I swing her arm over my shoulder and help her to her feet. When she’s finally standing, she gives me a weak nod of gratitude. “Thanks.”
“Yeah, no problem.”
“Did you see anything?” Drew asks the soldier.
“Give her a chance to breathe first,” I mutter. “Jeez, Drew.”
“Nothing,” the guard says, rubbing sleep from her eyes, clearly still dazed. As relaxed as she is, I wonder if she even knows she isn’t speaking to Jace. “A few hazy figures, then I blacked out. What happened?”
“We don’t know yet,” Drew lies.
When we’re sure the guard is okay, we continue, looking for others.
After we tend to two more soldiers around the next bend, I hear the thunder of boots along the carpet from down the hall. I stand and look over my shoulder as Drew tends to the soldier at our feet.
Jace rounds the corner with about ten guards, and after the last few days of his rage, I expect fury. Commands. Anger.
All I see is dread.
It’s startling—to see cold dread on such a strong man’s face. It’s brief, replaced instantaneously with relief the moment our eyes meet.
But it was there.
And it makes my heart soften, a little, for this irritating hardass who has shown me so many misguided grand gestures.
Just a bit.
Harper said it best—he doesn’t know how to love. He doesn’t know anything but war. This connection we have, it’s as foreign and strange to him as it is to me.
Maybe even more so.
He sweeps me into his arms without a word, holding me close, pressing his cheek against mine. With his hand cradling my head, he holds me tight, like he knows he nearly lost me.
It’s—confusing.
Startling, at the very least.
Despite the rising surge of anger I feel for his recent attempts to control me, despite the fact that he nearly killed Tucker, despite everything he has put me through, I hug him back.
It feels oddly right.
He sighs happily as my arms slide around his waist. It’s a subtle sound, barely audible, but it�
�s unmistakable. His fingers weave into my hair, and he gently rubs his nose against mine.
“Tucker and Levi are safe,” he says, gently pulling away, answering my question before I can ask it. “Levi is still unconscious and almost fully healed from his ordeal yesterday, so he won’t even know anything happened. Tucker, well—” Jace laughs. “He’s drooling on his pillow.”
I chuckle.
“It looks like we were attacked,” he says, scanning the hallway. “Did you see anything? Anyone?”
“I—” I briefly look at Drew, who frowns, watching my face and silently pleading with me to lie.
I clear my throat.
“Just silhouettes,” I fib. “I couldn’t make out much before I passed out. Drew dragged me to safety, I think, but it’s all pretty hazy.” I shake my head, trying to sell my lie. “I can’t remember much.”
I’ll tell him the truth, someday. I’m not sure how or when, but I don’t like hiding this from him.
Damn morals.
Life as a Spectre wasn’t easy, but at least back then I didn’t have to deal with having all these ethics. A secret was a secret—end of story.
“It’s fine, don’t worry about it.” Jace waves his hand absently. “We’re going to scan the property, but for now it’s best if you get back to your room.” He hesitates, fighting with his words a moment. “Uh—please.”
The last word was so quiet, so mumbled, it was almost inaudible.
But he definitely said please.
I grin, wondering if I should give him shit for being nice for once, but I don’t want to spoil the mood. “Okay.”
His eyebrows shoot up, as if he can’t believe that worked. He tries to recover, though, with a nod. “Good. Oh, and Drew—” He shifts his stormy gray eyes toward the fire dragon. “I, uh—thank you for keeping her safe.”
Drew simply nods in answer.
With that, Jace gestures to his soldiers and they fan out. He and three others continue down the hallway. With only a brief backward glance toward me, he rounds the corner and continues his patrol.
“Are you really going to your room?” Drew asks, crossing his muscular arms.
“That’s the plan,” I admit. “After all, you and I still have a lot to discuss.”
“Oh?” He lifts one brow in surprise.
I laugh. “Yeah, Drew.”
I gesture for him to follow me to my room, but he takes my hand and begins to lead me in the other direction, toward the wing of the castle where he’s staying.
“If you’re going to make me talk about more feelings,” he mutters with a wry grin, “I at least want to be sitting on my favorite couch for the ordeal.”
Chapter Twenty-Four
As Drew closes the door behind him, I scan his suite. A camera sits in the corner of the living room, a familiar silver rectangle lodged in the wiring.
One of my voids.
“How the hell did you get that?” I ask, pointing to the device.
He grins. “Oh, right. Thanks for letting me borrow a few.”
“You took them?” I raise my eyebrow incredulously. “How did you even know what they are? And how the hell did you get in my room without me noticing?”
“You were off sneaking around the castle,” he says with that wry smile of his. “I figured I would pop in, see who you really are. Maybe find out what you were up to.”
“Impressive,” I admit. Except for a bit of my missing tech, I hadn’t even noticed someone was in there. “Find anything useful?”
“Nope.” He shrugs. “You’re very good at covering your tracks.” He grins. “I’ve always admired that.”
I sarcastically flourish my hand and feign a regal bow.
He chuckles. “I’ve seen devices like that before,” he says with a nod to the void. “When I saw you had some of them, I started to piece together your advanced training. I knew you were lethal, just not why.”
I shake my head in mild annoyance, but I have to hand it to him. “Clever. Can you get me any more of them?”
“Maybe, but I doubt it,” he admits, heading toward the short hallway that connects the living room to his office, bedroom, and bathroom. “That tech is incredible, and we still haven’t figured out how to reproduce it,” he adds, shouting over his shoulder.
I follow, wondering where he’s disappearing to, and lean against the doorframe as he ducks into his bedroom and rifles through a duffle bag at the foot of his bed.
“Looking for something?” I ask.
“Another phone,” he says absently, digging into the depths of the bag. “I have to get another one before my dad finds the conversation with my Vaer contact.”
My eyebrows shoot upward. “The guy who’s getting the blueprints?”
“One and the same.” Drew grunts triumphantly and pulls a phone out of the bag, his thumb flying across the screen as he activates it. “He’s actually a human contractor who upgraded their tech system a few years back. They scared him—bad—in an attempt to get him to lower his rates.” Drew rolls his eyes.
“What did they do?”
Drew’s jaw tenses. “Kidnapped his family until the work was done. Roughed them up a bit.”
I groan in disgust.
“Yeah, so he’s more than happy to help us out,” Drew says. “And that’s why I trust this guy—clear motive. He’s motivated. I’ve never had a contact get me intel so fast.”
“That’s incredible,” I admit with a hopeful smile.
“It really is,” Drew adds with a chuckle, still rifling through the bag. “He’s mere hours from coming through for us. I have to give Jace what I find, but don’t worry—even if he tries to lock you out of this mission, you and I will go on our own.” He winks roguishly. “Who needs him and his stupid army, anyway?”
I chuckle, my heart warming. “Thanks, Drew.”
He grins and returns to the bag, his smile fading as he fights with whatever’s in it. “Where is this thing, damn it…”
A second later, he finally tugs out another phone, his gaze flitting between the two as he wipes the one his dad hacked.
Jett Darrington.
I frown, silently fuming at the man’s audacity.
“Darringtons really do think they’re above the law,” I say quietly. “Don’t they?”
He sighs and lowers the phones in his hands, watching me with an intense expression. “Yeah, I guess we do.”
I hesitate, not quite meaning it like that. “You’re fine, Drew. But your dad…”
I don’t even bother to finish the thought.
There just aren’t words.
“Yeah,” Drew says, tossing both phones in the duffle bag and sitting on the edge of his bed.
“He knows something.” I bite my nail, lost in thought, recalling the conversation deep in the tunnel. “About me. Something he didn’t want either of us to know.”
“It certainly seems that way,” Drew says with a deep sigh. “Usually, Milo and I are the only ones who get that kind of intel. For him to hide it from me, well, it can’t be good.”
Oh, how lovely.
“Maybe he knew…” I start to say, but I’m not really sure where to take it. “Well, you and me…”
His eyes drift toward me, scanning my face as he waits for me to continue. When I don’t, he stands, slowly closing the space between us until he’s mere inches away, his powerful frame blocking out the world around me.
As he nears, still delightfully shirtless, those hard abs of his just beg me to run my fingers over them. Heat and desire simmer beneath my skin, between my legs, burning clear through to my core.
My traitorous body gets so easily distracted, lately. Though I try to focus on the conversation, to dig into what Jett could possibly know about my magic, my thoughts quickly jumble into an incoherent mess.
As Drew nears, so tantalizingly close, my thighs ache with longing. With desire. My concern bubbles away, replaced with a deep and carnal hunger.
The things this man does to me—all without know
ing it.
I’m getting tired of fighting it.
“Like I said, mushy sweet talk isn’t really my thing,” he admits. “But I will say this. I’m proud of you. What you did down there—all that power—you’re a fighter, through and through.” He smirks. “Nothing will ever stop you. I admire that.”
“I hit you with a full blast of my magic,” I say breathlessly. “How did you not die? How are you—”
He smiles briefly, his eyes drifting along my face, and he runs his thumb tenderly along my jaw. Without a word, he sets his hand possessively in the crook on my neck, his strong grip simultaneously possessive and reassuring. “Darringtons are fireproof. Solid. Some of us royals are, anyway.” He chuckles. “Our thick skin means we can take blows that would kill other people.”
“That’s astonishing,” I admit.
“I mean, it hurt,” he says with a laugh, rubbing the back of his head. “Dear God, that burned worse than anything I’ve ever felt in my life. You pack one hell of a punch, woman.”
I grin, glad he at least felt it. He barely acknowledged the blow at all. He has a good poker face—I’ll have to keep that in mind for the future.
“I know you like giving orders, but I don’t obey.” He wraps his massive hands around my waist. His lips hover by mine, just out of reach and tantalizingly close. “Think you can handle giving up control for once?”
He doesn’t really give me a chance to answer.
His palms are warm and soothing as he gently leads me away from the doorframe and presses me against the wall of his bedroom. He dips his fingers past the hem of my pants, teasing me with his molten touch.
He’s right, of course. I do prefer giving orders to taking them, especially now that I’m free from Zurie’s control. But with Drew, it’s clear he’s used to leading, too.
We’ve fought over the reins so far, battling silently to take control of any given situation, perhaps out of habit more than anything else.
“Truce?” I ask breathlessly, lifting my chin until our lips nearly touch.
In apparent answer, he lifts me by the waist and presses his hips against mine, pinning me to the wall with my feet a good foot or two off the floor.
As he leans his handsome face toward me, the bulge in his pants rubs against my entrance. With only fabric separating us, I get a sense of just how hung he really is. It was one thing to see it, but to feel it...
