by Lexi C. Foss
Lizzie sipped her water before setting it aside and focusing on him. “What does that mean? Test your worth?”
He studied her for a long moment before saying, “Nothing good. Let’s just say they explored our limits in terms of death, powers, and otherwise. Not everyone made it.”
Her eyebrows rose. “But you said they were your parents, right? Like, Artemis was your dad, so obviously Balthazar had an Ichorian parent as well?”
“Our fathers,” Jayson murmured. “My kind are created when an Ichorian male procreates with a human female. And as to what you’re implying, yes, they essentially tortured their children in the name of research. The one thing they never did was taste our blood because the Conclave had decreed it as disgraceful. Everything else, though, was considered fair game.”
Jayson tilted his glass to finish his wine and set it down with a finality.
“That’s awful,” she whispered, her voice masked by the airplane’s engines.
Their flirty attendant appeared to snatch up the dessert trays and frowned at finding them partially eaten. Jayson said something to her in Italian again, eliciting more blushing. Lizzie was still shaking her head when the lady flounced off.
She gasped when he stole a piece of food from her plate and popped it into his mouth.
“Hey!” She tried to smack his hand when he did it again, but he was too quick.
“I promised Rebekah we would be done soon.”
“Rebekah?”
“Sorry, that’s Ms. Flirty Skirt to you.”
Lizzie grumbled a few choice words under her breath. Of course the woman had a sexy name to go with her long legs and curves.
This time when he tried to feed her more chocolate, she refused. Her figure certainly didn’t need the fatty enhancements.
“To shorten a rather long story, the Ichorians eventually decided we could be useful as long as we were maintained. They treated us as second-class citizens—peasants—and exploited us for their own purposes. They also killed any progeny who could potentially overpower them and allowed only the useful children to be reborn into immortality.”
“So Immortals can be killed?”
He nodded. “It’s not easy, but it can be done by severing the head or burning the body to ash.”
Lizzie flinched at the image that evoked. “Gross.”
“There’s also the matter of our blood being toxic to Ichorians, something that wasn’t discovered until about a millennium ago. I’ll come back to that after I explain where Hydraian came from.” He stole the final bite from her plate and followed it with some water. “Do you want more wine?”
She shook her head. Two glasses were enough.
He signaled the attendant with one of his grins, and Lizzie wondered if little Ms. Flirty Skirt could actually see it. She must have because she brightened under the attention and almost bounced all the way over to them. Lizzie would have to ask him to explain the facial manipulation thing more in depth. After he finished this new round of flirting.
The trays disappeared, giving them space to move around again. Lizzie tucked her legs beneath her on the oversized seat and angled her body toward Jayson. He rested his ankle on his knee, giving her a nice view of his strong legs.
Dressed in khaki pants and a sweater, he resembled a fashion model. He even had the windswept-hair look and alluring eyes.
“After several centuries of testing our mettle and determining the best ways to manage the population, we were given a place to live on our own with limited resources. It was a way to hold sway over my kind, something most of us recognized, but we weren’t going to turn down the opportunity at some semblance of freedom. And that’s when we colonized Hydria.”
She couldn’t believe they were discussing this all so casually, yet it all felt so much more believable coming from Jayson than it ever did from Kiel. “So that’s why you call yourself Hydraians?”
“Yes. Luc, whom you met briefly last night—he’s the blond one—is a master of strategy and suggested we develop a term to promote unity among our kind.” He smiled, his fondness for the memory and the man palpable. A moment of history that clearly meant something, perhaps one of the first to bring him happiness?
“Luc’s commonly referred to as omniscient, but that’s not quite right. His gift allows him to remember everything, no matter how trivial the details, and he’s been alive for longer than I have and was born to an Ichorian with a similar ability. Between the two of them, they essentially know everything.”
Lizzie caught the affection in his voice, so different from when he spoke about his own father. “It sounds like Luc’s upbringing varied from yours?”
He chuckled. “It did, in more ways than one. My father created me for the sole purpose of assuming my identity after a certain period of time so he could hide his own immortality from the mortals. Aidan, Luc’s father, actually loves him. He’s also considered one of the oldest beings on Earth, and unlike most of his brethren, he craves peace and equality among the immortals. I believe it stems from his love for strategy.”
“He sounds okay,” Lizzie agreed. “Does his opinion cause issues?”
Jayson scratched his chin. “Well, yes, but as I said, he’s old, and as such, he’s respected. I mentioned that Hydraian blood can kill Ichorians, which was only discovered about a thousand years ago. The realization lent credence to those who already wished to exterminate our kind due to our dual powers, and incited centuries of violence.”
He paused, his expression sobering.
Lizzie placed her hand over his on the armrest and squeezed gently, startling him from wherever he’d gone in his head. He cleared his throat and refocused, his eyes brimming with haunting memories.
“I lost a lot of friends, several of them among the oldest of my kind from that original meeting, but those of us who survived proved resilient. The Ichorians had gotten lazy over the years, their control over my kind was implied and expected, and they didn’t realize that some of their children were extremely powerful, because our kind had learned early on to hide those talents.
“Alik, for example, can torture with his mind, something he never admitted. The Ichorians thought his telepathic skills—gifted through his father’s bloodline—were his primary ability. For the longest time, he pretended that a minor language affinity was his other talent, but in truth, he can cripple an army of hundreds with a single thought.”
“That’s terrifying,” Lizzie admitted softly.
Jayson nodded. “Yes, but also very useful. Pair his strengths with my affinity for metal, Luc’s strategy, Balthazar’s flair for manipulating emotion, a few Hydraians who can control fire, and several other combat-related abilities, and you have quite a formidable army. It helped that we developed weapons coated in our blood that kill on impact.”
The attendant appeared again with bottles of water and a smile solely for Jayson, but this time he didn’t return it. He merely dismissed the woman with a few words and refocused on Lizzie.
“In 1747, an armistice was established between Hydraians and Ichorians that created peace in specific regions. Hydria, for example, is a safe zone for my kind, while New York City is a haven for Ichorians.”
She considered his words with a frown. “Isn’t your being in Manhattan a violation?”
“No, it expressly states that we can venture over borders at our own risk. Meaning, if the wrong Ichorian found me in New York, he would be within his rights to kill me.”
“Kiel is an Ichorian and a friend?” It came out as a question because Kiel spoke fondly of Jayson and they obviously hung out, but they were supposedly also rivals. Had Kiel meant that in reference to their warring factions or something else?
Jayson blew out a breath as he uncapped his water and took a swig. “Ezekiel isn’t so much a friend as a respected adversary who is trained to kill fledglings, otherwise known as the progeny of Ichorians, who have not yet been reborn as a Hydraian.”
He shifted while Lizzie waited for more. It was all s
o complicated, but he explained it in a way that helped her understand.
Stas knew about all of this?
How?
And where does the CRF fit in?
“There’s a unique poison that essentially burns Ichorian blood when ingested, thereby killing fledglings. We call it the Nizari poison, after the band of assassins—of which Ezekiel is the primary leader—known to administer it.”
Lizzie’s lips parted. “So not a friend.”
“Definitely not, though he seems to be playing by his own set of rules lately. I imagine it’s a result of boredom that will end when he craves death again.” He studied her. “Did he say anything else interesting?”
Can you read my thoughts? she asked, suspicious. Because she’d just been thinking about her former best friend seconds ago and his subject change seemed odd, but his expression remained politely curious.
Coincidence?
Possibly.
Lizzie considered her conversation with Kiel. Despite being shocked and emotional, she remembered almost every word.
“He said he arranged for me and Stas to live together our freshman year.” Which was odd. “He also knew her full name, which I never mentioned to you or him, and ‘Astasiya’ isn’t an easy guess.”
“No, it’s not, which means he knows more about her than we realized,” Jayson replied, his expression thoughtful. “Is that all he said?”
“About Stas? Yeah,” she replied. “He mostly talked about his youth and how Osiris took him in as a boy and raised him alongside his own son, Sethios. In Babylon.”
He studied her for a long moment. “He said he grew up with Sethios? As in they were the same age as children?”
“Yes, that’s what he implied, anyway.” Lizzie had a knack for remembering facts and discussions; it was something that suited her well in college, because she never had to study.
“What else did he say about Osiris?”
She shrugged. “Not much, just that I would meet him someday and he’s friends with Artemis. Why?”
He finished his water, his eyes narrowed in thought. When he finally looked at her again, she saw a sort of resolution in his gaze, as if he’d been battling something internally.
“Osiris is a being everyone fears, including Ichorians, because he can persuade others to do his bidding through vocal command.” He let that settle, his expression hardening. “I’m guessing Ezekiel meant to imply that Osiris turned Sethios, or perhaps even raised him as a child similar to the way Aidan raised Issac.”
“Uh… Aidan?” All these names were giving her a headache. He’d mentioned him already as Luc’s father, but not in relation to Issac.
Jayson smiled, as if hearing that thought, and slid his hand to her nape, where he massaged some of the tension from her neck.
“The immortal who turned Issac into an Ichorian,” he clarified. “He’s also Luc and Amelia’s birth father, but that’s not important.”
Jayson shifted into her personal space and palmed her cheek. “I promised myself the day we met that I would never lie to you, and I’ve kept my word, but I’ve also omitted quite a bit. Before today, I mean. But this is really something Stas should tell you, not me.”
Dread pooled in her stomach, but she couldn’t stop now. “You can’t say that and not elaborate.”
His thumb traced her bottom lip. “I’ve explained that Ichorians and humans produce fledglings—”
“What about a Hydraian and a human?” she asked before he could continue.
“Hydraians can’t procreate,” he replied. “But that’s beside the point. What I want you to consider is why Stas would know about our world, and it’s not because she works for the CRF.”
Lizzie frowned. “Are you implying she’s immortal?”
“Not yet, but close.”
“A fledgling?” How could Stas keep something like that from Lizzie?
He nodded. “Yes, and her power is similar to Osiris’s in that she can persuade through voice.”
Lizzie’s eyes widened. “What?!”
“Shh.” His palm tightened warningly on her neck. “We don’t want to cause a scene.”
“You just told me my best friend can tell people what to do,” she hissed. “I’m allowed a reaction to that.”
“You are, but a quiet one,” he replied.
She glared at him, but he merely smiled, amused.
“I understand. It’s an interesting development.”
Understatement of the year. Their entire conversation and the last twenty-four hours had been an interesting development in Lizzie’s mind.
“Um, what’s Stas’s other ability?” Her voice had come down an octave, but her pulse still thrummed wildly at both Jayson’s close proximity and their discussion. So much for this all being easy to believe.
“We don’t know yet because she hasn’t been reborn.” Jayson’s expression melted into one of compassion. “She has refused the next step for several reasons, one of which is you.”
“Me?” Her eyebrows hit her hairline. “Why?”
“Because she can’t work for the CRF as a Hydraian. She needed to remain human to become a Sentinel and gather intelligence. At first, she stayed on to save Issac’s sister from captivity—which is another story we’ll get into later—and subsequently, to help you. Tom found a file with your name on it while working there but had to retire before he could gather more information.”
His palm slid to her neck, where his fingers massaged the tense area at the top of her spine. It felt divine but didn’t belie the horror of his words.
“Do you have any idea what the file says?”
He shook his head. “No. We’ve spent two months trying and failing to gather more information, and we were planning to tell you everything, but Ezekiel beat us to it.”
“I-I don’t understand. What could they possibly have on me?”
“Whatever it is, you’re valuable to them.” Jayson settled back into his chair but kept his body angled toward her. “Do you remember that first night I stopped by? I believe a Sentinel stopped by right after, yes?”
Lizzie nodded. “Charlie.”
“Does that happen a lot?”
She shrugged. “Sometimes. My mother likes to send them to check up on me.”
“In this case, he stopped by to check on your surveillance equipment. I set off an interference with my watch to test their reaction time. It was impressive.”
Lizzie blanched, and his palm covered her mouth before she could react vocally. She wrapped her fingers around his wrist to yank it down. “Don’t do that.”
“Don’t scream.”
“I wasn’t going to.”
He arched a brow. “Don’t lie, either.”
“You’re one to talk.”
“I’ve never lied to you, Elizabeth.” The severity underlining his tone made her shiver. As did the intense way he studied her. “It was not my decision to keep all this from you, nor was it my place to tell you, even when I wanted to.”
Lizzie swallowed.
It was Stas and Tom who kept all this from her. Jayson did, as well, but in a different way. They assigned him to guard and befriend her. That he wanted to tell her the truth said a lot, assuming he meant it. His eyes said he did, but her heart refused to believe anything yet.
“I need time,” she admitted. “To think this all through.”
“And although I appreciate that, running off to Rome on a whim is not the answer.” He dared her with his expression to refute that, but she couldn’t. He was right, not that she would admit it.
“Did you sleep at all last night?” he asked, his voice softer than before.
She shook her head slowly. “Not really.”
“Then let’s get some sleep now and start fresh in the morning. We can do a little sightseeing before deciding on our next destination.”
“Really?” She perked up at that idea. “You’re not going to send me to Hydria?” She half expected a welcoming party to be waiting at the airport for
their arrival.
“Wherever we go next will be your choice.” His lips curled as he added, “Just know that I’ll be tagging along.”
She toyed with a strand of her hair that had fallen over her shoulder. “You don’t have to do that.” It seemed unfair and dangerous from what he had said. “But I’m not ready to face them yet,” she admitted, torn.
And to stay in Hydria? It would require leaving all she’d ever known.
Not that she had much to be thankful for in Manhattan. Her parents wouldn’t miss her, and her friends would move on, just like they always did. She couldn’t remember the last time she spoke to anyone from high school. Some of them kept in touch via text messages during freshman year, but everyone sort of moved on with their lives. That was when Lizzie met Stas, and their bond had felt so much more real than anything else in Lizzie’s life.
Her chest ached with the loss of that friendship. It was irrevocably changed by the events of the last few months, and she wondered if they would ever be able to come back from this.
Jayson stood and stretched his arms over his head, revealing a sliver of skin between his red sweater and khakis.
Talk about a distraction.
Except she wasn’t the only one who noticed.
Flirty Skirt gazed at him with a question in her eyes, but Jayson ignored her and turned to place his hands on Lizzie’s armrests. His face was a scant inch from hers as he bent into her personal space.
“As irritated as I am with this last-minute adventure, I also understand your desire to run. Which is why I’m willing to overlook the foolishness of your actions, this time.”
He tightly grasped her chin and forced her to meet his unwavering gaze. “But, Elizabeth, if you ever pull a stunt like this again, I will bend you over my knee and express my displeasure in a way that will leave you thinking about me for weeks. And I won’t hesitate to do it in public, either. Do you understand me?”
Her mouth went dry. “You wouldn’t—”
“I would,” he promised.
She squirmed in her seat, uncomfortable by the feelings he’d awoken. A spanking should not intrigue her. It was wrong, yet the power in his stance as he leaned over her and the steadfast way he held her gaze unleashed something inside of her. A foreign desire that felt wanton and inappropriate, and oh-so right.
