by Lexi C. Foss
“Right. We need to know exactly what Ezekiel told her. Obviously, he mentioned Tom and Issac, but what else?” Luc set his mug aside. “I say we wake her up.”
“She’ll scream,” Jacque warned as he appeared behind the recliner. He must have been listening from the kitchen. “And it’s loud,” the teleporter added with a shudder.
Luc lifted a shoulder in response. “B has a fix for that.”
“We can’t,” Stas said, her voice lacking its usual confidence. She pulled away from Issac, her green eyes tired as she addressed Luc. “We’ve taken everything else away from her; we can’t take this too. She’s earned her pain, and we all deserve to feel it with her.”
Jayson rubbed a hand over his face and sighed. Stas was right. Dulling Lizzie’s emotions would be taking away yet another choice, and they had already fucked this up enough.
“Regardless, we’re solving nothing by keeping her in a coma.” Luc glanced questioningly at Issac. “Unless you’re speaking to her in her dreams?”
“Given the way she reacted to me at the Arcadia, I believe she would consider that a nightmare rather than a dream,” the Ichorian replied.
Silence settled over the living area.
The soft introduction they all agreed on earlier no longer applied. Ezekiel had thrown Lizzie into the deep end without a flotation device and expected her to know how to swim.
Fucking prick. Ezekiel may not have harmed her physically, but he sure as shit hurt her mentally.
“I agree with Luc.” The somber note in Tom’s words described the atmosphere in the room. “We’ve hurt her enough. It’s time to live with the consequences of our decisions.”
“You were protecting her,” Amelia murmured, her hand on Tom’s chest.
“Perhaps, but she won’t see it that way.” Tom kissed her on the cheek before standing. “Let’s wake her up. I’m ready.”
“I’m not,” Stas whispered. “You didn’t see the way she looked at me.”
“My guess is that look will be nothing compared to how she will treat Thomas,” Issac said.
“Thanks, buddy,” Tom replied with false sincerity.
Issac merely shrugged, unbothered.
“I have an idea,” Balthazar said. “One that might make her more agreeable when she wakes up and won’t involve any of us taking her choices away. It may also give us some insight into what Ezekiel told her.”
Everyone stared at him, waiting for him to elaborate.
“But it will only work if Jayson is up for the challenge,” Balthazar added with a gaze Jayson knew all too well.
Anytime Balthazar mentioned a challenge, it always ended favorably, but that wouldn’t be the case with Lizzie. This task would be difficult, perhaps even hurt Jayson in the end, and his friend was asking him now with his eyes if he had the heart for it.
Jayson set his beer on the coffee table and raised a brow. “What did you have in mind, B?”
*
Lizzie floated in a cloud of cedar, man, and heat. Her legs stretched against the silky sheets as she nuzzled deeper into the muscular pillow beneath her head.
Jayson, she thought with a smile, then frowned as trickles of memories surfaced behind her lids.
The Arcadia, and Kiel telling her stories about immortality and blood. She flew upright and blinked into the darkness.
“Red?” Jayson murmured, his voice thickened with sleep.
Confusion riddled her thoughts.
How had she ended up in his bed again?
Unless…
Was it all a dream?
Lizzie ran her hands over her clothes—boxer shorts and an oversized T-shirt. Her feet were bare. No white clothes or boots.
A warm palm caressed her lower back as Jayson sat up beside her. “You okay?” he asked, his voice low and sexy.
“I…” She licked her lips. “I don’t know.” It had all felt so real, except that last part with the whooshing and the blackness. The end of a nightmare, maybe?
She turned and placed a hand on his bare chest. Okay, that was definitely real. Her fingers danced over the muscular planes to his abs before dropping to her side.
“I had the strangest dream,” she admitted. I think.
Had it all been a figment of her imagination? Lizzie could come up with a lot of crazy things, but this seemed extreme.
“What was it about?” he asked with a yawn. The hand against her back moved in soothing circles, melting the remains of her tension. She leaned into him, seeking more of that comfort. Her dream had really rattled her nerves.
“You’ll think I’m crazy,” she said, shaking her head. He slid his palm up to her shoulder and unleashed magic with his fingers. “That feels good.”
“Here.” He shifted her to relax between his legs and put both hands to work on her upper back. “Now tell me about your strange dream, and I’ll decide if you’re really crazy.”
She groaned at both his words and his skilled touch. Lizzie had no idea she was so tense. The dream must have really worked her up. Maybe talking about it would help.
But not all of it.
She didn’t mention the disastrous breakfast conversation or the pancakes and skipped ahead to the part about the Halloween party at the Arcadia.
“It was pretty normal until Kiel showed up,” Lizzie murmured. “His friends invited Cam and Kristin to dance. Meanwhile, Kiel asked if I wanted to know more about your world.” Such a weird term, one she herself would never use, yet Kiel had used it repeatedly in her dream.
Unless it wasn’t a dream at all.
Jayson tugged on a strand of her hair. “Don’t leave me hanging here, Red. What did he say about our world?”
Right. A nightmare. Nothing else.
She cleared her throat. “Uh, well, he told me a story about growing up with you in Babylon, as in the original city”—something she obviously pulled from her conversation with Kiel at the coffeehouse—“and he said your dad was a war god. Actually, he called him an ‘Ichorian.’ I must have made up that term in my head after his original reference and the blood talk because, you know, ichor and Ichorian sound similar, right?”
Except, was that the order of the conversation? She couldn’t remember; it’d all been so insane and—
“You’re familiar with ichor?” he asked, his surprise palpable.
“Uh, yeah. I learned about it in school at some point.” Why would that shock him?
“Ichor,” he repeated, sounding incredulous. “That’s something they teach in the New York City private schools?”
“Yeah, in high school, I think.” Most of her knowledge came from an ambiguous background, due to all the traveling for beauty pageants and learning on the fly. Lizzie could never recall the specifics of when she learned a subject; she just knew the information, which was all that mattered in the grand scheme of things.
“Anyway, he also said something about knowing me before Stas.” Lizzie attributed that bit to the coffeehouse as well since he’d met Stas briefly. “Afterward, Kiel drank blood in front of me, which was gross.” She shuddered at the too-real memory.
“And he called you an immortal ‘Hydraian.’ ” She forced a laugh. “I’m guessing I created that term from your comments about Grace and Jacque being from Hydria…” She trailed off as she thought back to when he had said that.
During their disastrous breakfast.
Which never happened…
“I’m not normally this creative,” she added, puzzled.
Jayson never mentioned Hydria, but geography was another one of those subjects she just understood. The small island in the Aegean Sea belonged to Greece. But how had she picked that location specifically?
She finally focused on her surroundings, beyond the silky sheets and the sexy man behind her.
Something didn’t feel right. Not the temperature or atmosphere. This was definitely Jayson’s space, but…
It’s too quiet.
“There’s no city noise,” she realized. “And you have curtain
s.” They went from the ceiling to the floor. Did she miss those before? She’d been a bit preoccupied, but they seemed out of place somehow. As if they were hiding a very large window, something she knew their condo building didn’t include.
“Lizzie,” Jayson murmured, his hands sliding to her arms. “I need to tell you something.”
She focused on the silk curtains and the rustle of cloth at the bottom. Fresh air? Impossible.
His fingers went to her chin, tilting her head back to meet his gaze. They resembled mysterious orbs in the dark room. “I’m sorry.”
Her gut twisted with those two morose words. “Why?” she managed, her mouth dry.
“Because it wasn’t a dream,” he replied. “And from what you’ve said so far, Ezekiel told you the truth.”
She blinked. His words were clear but didn’t fully register. “So you’re…” She couldn’t finish. Because no. He must have misunderstood.
“I’m a Hydraian, and we’re in my room. In Hydria.”
She pushed away from him, and he let her, his hands dropping away. She went to her knees and faced him on the bed.
“In Greece.” She couldn’t help the incredulity in her voice. “You knocked me out and flew me to Greece?” Because airport officials wouldn’t frown upon an unconscious woman being flown across international borders at all. Not one bit.
“Jacque teleported you here. He’s a Hydraian, too, as are Balthazar and Grace.”
“Turn on the lights,” she demanded, requiring proof.
The silk sheets swooshed as he moved, and a lamp popped on beside them. Rich, cream walls and mahogany furniture tumbled into view with a vivid blue curtain, blowing in the night breeze.
“It’s a balcony,” he murmured. “Overlooking the Aegean Sea.”
Lizzie slid off the mattress and padded over to the door, needing to see it for herself.
The doors were open beyond the curtain, revealing a star-filled sky hanging over a rolling ocean. She grabbed the ledge for stability as her knees threatened to buckle again, and Jayson moved in behind her.
“You’re… this…” She swallowed. The fingers of her free hand lifted to prod her neck as an image of the booths at the Arcadia soured her thoughts. “Y-you drink blood?”
“No,” he murmured. “Hydraians don’t require the mortal essence to remain alive. It’s one of the many things Ichorians hate about us.” He moved to rest his elbows on the balcony, his shoulders falling as he gazed out over the night. “The only time I’ve ever lied to you was about my job, Lizzie. Otherwise, I’ve always been truthful, just not very forthcoming. Keeping everything from you wasn’t my decision, which sounds like an excuse, but it’s merely the truth.”
“I-I don’t understand. Why? How?” All of Ezekiel’s claims settled over her at once, forcing her to squeeze the door hinge hard to stay upright. She didn’t know whether to cry, scream, run, or jump. Every emotion rattled inside her at once.
“We’re not a threat to you,” he said as if sensing her rising fear. “Quite the opposite, actually. I was sent to New York City to protect you.”
“Protect me?” she squeaked. “From what?”
“The CRF.” He twisted to face her and leaned against the balcony. His bare chest glowed in the starry night, giving him a regal flair she would have admired in a better situation.
“I’ve spent the last two months trying to determine what it is they’ve done to you, as has Stas, and our discoveries are minimal at best. We planned to tell you this week, to include you in the research, but Ezekiel had his own plans in mind.”
“Research?” she repeated.
“Into whatever the CRF did to you as a child,” Jayson replied, his voice low. “Did Ezekiel explain the true nature of a Sentinel?”
Lizzie shook her head, both at his comment about her childhood and at the mention of the prominent paramilitary unit.
“The humanitarian missions are a cover for something far more sinister and deadly. Sentinels are trained to hunt and kill rogue immortals, both Hydraians and Ichorians. It’s Jonathan Fitzgerald’s pet project.”
“Kiel said he’s an Ichorian,” Lizzie whispered. “Issac, too.”
“Both statements are true, but while Jonathan is a monster, Issac is an ally. He’s been working with Stas to gain more information about you—or at least, he’s tried.”
Lizzie finally let go of the door to rub her arms. Despite the warmer air, she felt cold and so very alone.
“Everyone knew,” she murmured, more to herself than to Jayson.
They all kept this from her. Jayson, Issac, Stas, Tom…
“Is he here?” she asked. Kiel told her he was alive. Everything else he said had proven to be true; would this as well? “Is Tom here?”
“Yes,” Jayson replied quietly. “In the living room.”
She nodded, her feet already moving.
Lizzie didn’t bother checking her hair or her attire. She didn’t care. Nothing mattered. These people had lied to her, kept secrets from her, and allowed her to grieve on her own. Were they ever really her friends?
She sensed the change in Stas months ago. Was that when she learned the truth? All this time, Lizzie had been nothing but supportive, a good friend, the best, and Stas had lied to her at every turn.
But none of that compared to the biggest deceit of them all.
Tom.
His funeral had broken her. She had cried alone in her room for days, because Stas had been too busy working. Lizzie thought her best friend just didn’t care about Tom the same way she did, but no, that wasn’t it at all. Stas didn’t grieve because she knew Tom was still alive. And no one told her.
She followed the light in the hallway to an open space filled with people she recognized. At the moment, however, they all resembled strangers. Especially, the one in the middle watching her with a concerned expression.
Lies existed in those dark brown eyes.
She thought he loved her at least a little bit, but this proved all her emotions wrong.
Anyone who cared about a person would never put her through the pain of such a loss and say nothing.
But this man did.
The one she admired growing up, whom she thought she loved more than anyone else in existence.
Betrayed.
“Lizzie,” he whispered as she approached him. “I’m—”
Her fist met his jaw with enough force to send him back a step, and a part of her was pleased with that hit, while the other part wanted to collapse under her grief. Because touching him made him real and alive.
All of it was true. She knew that, but to have proof changed the story entirely. “How could you?” she accused, her vision blurring with tears. “How could you?”
“It was the only way to keep you safe,” Tom whispered.
“We needed John to believe he was dead,” Stas said as she tried to approach, but one look from Lizzie froze her in midstep.
“You’ve known all along and didn’t tell me.” Her voice lacked the anger brewing within, something she chalked up to exhaustion. “I want to go home. To my condo. To be alone. Now.”
“I would not advise that,” Issac murmured. He sat beside a brunette with matching blue eyes.
His sister, Lizzie realized. A woman Issac had told her was dead over breakfast a few months ago. “All of it has always been a lie,” she said, shaking her head.
“Amelia was only recently found alive,” a voice said from her left. Balthazar cocked his head to the side, studying her. “When Issac told you she was dead, he believed it.”
“He believed… But you… Did you just read my mind?” She shook her head. “Never mind. Of course you can hear my thoughts. You probably all can.” She couldn’t help the hysterical note of sarcasm, or the laugh that followed. “Take me back to New York.”
Issac folded his arms. “As I said—”
“I don’t care what you said,” Lizzie snapped, her patience gone. “I’ve had enough for tonight. Let me go. Unless I’m a hos
tage?”
“Of course not,” a blond man said from a recliner. “You’re a guest for as long as you wish to be one.”
“She can’t go back,” Stas whispered. “Not until she understands.”
“You were the one who requested we stop taking away her choices, were you not?” the blond asked, arching a brow. “Her request is to return home, and I suggest we acquiesce.” He stood, his height and strength reminding Lizzie a little bit of Jayson. “You are welcome back anytime, Elizabeth. We’re but a call away.” With that, he left the house.
“I’ll get Jacque,” Jayson murmured. “He can take you home.”
“We need to talk about this,” Stas said. “It’s not safe in the condo, Liz. You don’t understand.”
“And whose fault is that?” Lizzie threw back at her. “I want you packed and out of my condo by the end of the week. It’s not like you’re there much anyway. Maybe your vampire, or perhaps John, will give you a free place to stay, but you and I are done.”
“Lizzie, you’re hurt, and I get that, but you need to give us a chance to explain.” The authority in Tom’s voice shoved her close to the edge of her sanity.
“You lost that chance when I buried you,” she fired at him. “You’re just another version that I never want to know. The Tom Fitzgerald I loved is dead, and frankly, I owe you nothing.”
Stas gasped, “Lizzie.”
She didn’t even look at her. It hurt too much. “I want to go home,” she said for the thousandth time. “I’m tired of being lied to and manipulated. It wasn’t enough that I had to learn the truth from Kiel, so then you all tricked me again with that wake-up routine. And something tells me I didn’t go to sleep by myself, either. I’m done. Take me home.”
“Okay. We can go,” Jayson said.
Four words.
She understood them, yet didn’t.
“I don’t need a babysitter, Jayson,” Lizzie told him. “You can stay here. I’ll be fine on my own.”
“It’s not like—”
“Isn’t it?” she countered before he could finish. “You said yourself that you were sent to New York City to protect me, right? And, what, when you didn’t learn enough, you befriended me?” His expression confirmed her suspicions, which fractured her already broken heart even more. “You could have done all that without the added benefits,” she added quietly.
