by Sharon Kay
I’m not the male you want. Really? She balled her hands into frustrated fists.
Then again, that was his style, wasn’t it? Tell people what was best, what they should do. His race had been looking to him for centuries, asking for guidance and leadership.
She knew that about him, and yet she didn’t even know what she wanted.
Yes, you do. Him. It’s always been him. She squeezed her eyes against the thought, trying to stop the know-it-all voice before it went farther. She’d seen the soul-deep bonds of mates and she hadn’t missed the flash of anguish in his eyes when he’d said complicated. How could she hope to mean something to him, when he was haunted by the loss of his mate?
Her stubborn attraction to him clung like a vine. After all these years, it was still healthy and strong, no matter how many times she’d tried to abandon it.
Needing to talk to Gin about this mess, she pulled out her phone and started to dial—
“You’re up early.”
She jumped in reflex, but her brain had already registered the familiar timbre of her brother’s voice. “You scared me.” She scowled. “What are you doing out here?”
“I have perimeter patrol. Within the grounds and then out on a wider reach.” Mathias rested his hands on his hips. “And you?”
“Running.” She shrugged.
“You’re not usually a morning person.”
“I couldn’t sleep.” She dared a glance to his perceptive hazel eyes, hoping like hell she didn’t seem off. Like she hadn’t recently been kissed senseless by their commander.
Mathias studied her and his nostrils flared. He frowned. “It’s the crack of dawn and not only are you up, but…” His eyes narrowed with what bordered on a what the fuck look. “You reek of Arawn.”
Oh, shit. She fought to keep her heart rate steady. Her brother could identify a scent down to the individual, while most of their race could only identify by species. Mathias was the Hunter, the best tracker in the realms. He could find anyone anywhere, whether they wanted to be found or not.
And he could tell who’d been with whom. He was diplomatic about it…usually. He’d told her in the past that he definitely did not want to know about her love life. But as the younger sister, she had to put up with some protective crap now and then.
“Sparring. In the training room. I was working with blades and he came in.” That was all true. “Then we finished up and I felt like running, so here I am.” She spread her arms wide.
He held her gaze for a beat, and she poured as much normal into her thoughts and posture as she could. But he only tilted his head. “Well, I’m glad to see you’re up for all of this activity. Did the healers clear you?”
“Kind of.” The tension in the center of her chest eased.
He snorted. “That means you got light activity cleared and you went balls out.”
“Am I that obvious?”
“Yes.” He tracked a hawk flying in lazy loops high above them. With a sharp dive, it plummeted in pursuit of its breakfast. “You look like you could use a rest now though. I know you’ll push yourself, but don’t overdo it.”
She playfully punched his arm. “Come on. I’m a tough girl. I survived toxic Serus breath!”
“Hell, Ri, don’t remind me. You gonna bring that up every time we engage the enemy?”
She sat on the ground to stretch her hamstrings, giving up on the idea of a brisk walk to cool her muscles down. “Maybe.”
He dropped to his haunches in front of her. “You had us really worried.”
“I know.” Her voice softened as she absorbed the concern in his eyes.
“Everyone here. The whole building. Ana almost started sending out daily emails to the entire staff, since she was getting so many questions about your status.”
Ria nodded. Inducing a coma in a Lash demon was very rare. She appreciated everyone’s concern, she truly did. But there was only one man whose concern might turn out to be more. And now they were in some weird dynamic, thanks to one scorching kiss. She sighed and stood to stretch her quadriceps. “I’m beat. I actually wore myself out.” She started to grin but it morphed into a yawn.
He straightened to his full height. “You need to get some sleep.”
“Sure. After I grab a tray of scones and donuts with your better half.”
“She’s asleep.” A contented smile crossed Mathias’s face and Ria felt a flare of happiness that her brother had mated such a kick-ass female.
True love. Could she have that? She kept her expression neutral, though her insides flipped with the mixed signals of possibility and rejection that Arawn had thrown at her. “All right. I’ll shower first then check on her.”
“I need to keep moving. You have fun. And rest.” With a wave, he jogged off in the direction she had just left.
Arawn paced toward his briefing room that afternoon for his bi-weekly meeting with his inner circle of warriors, plus Gin. The group was comprised of ten of his top people who had unique skills that came in handy on jobs. They all handled smaller teams of mixed ranks.
On his tablet, he pulled up a revised agenda from Ana as he stalked into the room. Low chatter from the group bounced off the rock walls and died out when he dropped the device on the stone table. He wasn’t much for technology, unless it was being used on an op. A better way to size up your soldiers, or your enemies, was assessing their voices and body language in live conversations.
All eyes turned to him and he launched into the agenda without preamble. “February’s coming. That means we have the annual crazies hoping to find the Atropa sword. I really don’t want to deal with these people but they’re preparing a month early. I need a team to keep an eye on cemeteries and burial grounds, memorials, stuff like that. Make sure the gatherings stay quiet.”
Aleksai raised a hand. “I’ll do it.”
Arawn nodded. “Next, we’ve completed our sweep of Elegia’s facilities and recovered everything, valuable or not. Gage.” He looked at his weapons master. “What’s the breakdown of added weaponry?”
From across the table, Gage’s unusual silver eyes gleamed. “Two thousand long swords, three thousand daggers, two hundred bows. An assortment of implements like maces and scythes, and small knives, probably about five hundred. Some are in good condition. Some are beat to shit. Those, we’re melting down to produce new ones.”
“That should keep you busy. Do you need additional hands?” Arawn asked.
“No, sir.”
“Next, Elegia’s research, her soil and plants, are being examined by Virginia.” He swung his gaze to Gin, who sat next to Mathias. Arawn knew Gin disliked her full name and so he used it whenever he could, just to see her try to stifle her snark out of respect for him. That, or she really didn’t hate it as much as she let everyone think. “Any updates?”
Gin shook her head. “Elegia was single-minded, so totally focused on bringing the lily back to life, she didn’t have any side projects that I’ve found. It’s all lily DNA and spells. It’s so interesting how she enlarged the channels to be able to draw up more nutrients.”
“It’s almost all she talks about.” Mathias slid his hand to his mate’s nape.
“You two must have riveting dinner conversations,” Arawn drawled, catching the Hunter’s eye.
“If you join us, I’ll be happy to diagram the cellular structure of each part of the plant.” Gin’s eyes shone with mirth.
“I’ll pass.”
Gin wrinkled her nose and muttered something about the damn plant being fascinating.
Arawn cleared his throat and moved on. “We also recovered a number of spell books and charms. Fife, how’s that coming?”
Fife was the resident spellcaster, or spellcracker, as Arawn usually called him. He hadn’t yet encountered a spell he couldn’t undo, though the difficult ones took time. He was old, probably a couple thousand years, but had boundless energy and taught spell class regularly. “Sir, as I asked Ana to tell you, one of the grimoires had a message writte
n in the margins.”
“Yeah, she told me. Did you find any more like it?”
“No. But I think it’s important to note that each word is written on a different page. The last four consecutive pages of the book.”
Mathias cleared his throat. “What was the message?”
“’Renata holds the key,’” Fife answered.
“What does that mean?” Caine asked. He had a photographic memory, and was one of Arawn’s best men on recon missions.
“I have the book.” Fife produced a leather-bound book, about eight inches square, with an emblem etched on the cover. He held it out for Arawn.
“A Ghazsul.” Arawn took it and smoothed his thumb over the depiction of a Ghazsul male brandishing a sword in each hand. He flipped to the end of the book and opened it, letting the thick paper creak and fall flat to reveal the last four pages. Sure enough, each one had a word handwritten in the upper margin written in crimson. “Is this blood?” He flicked a glance to Fife.
“I believe so.”
Arawn frowned and handed the book to Caine, sitting at his right. “Any more books with anything unusual?”
“No.”
“That could mean anything.” Aleksai frowned at the grimoire.
“Renata…” Mathias steepled his fingers together. “The Renata statue just got auctioned.”
“Hang on.” Caine pulled up his own tablet and linked to the room’s smart screen. With a few clicks, a six-foot by four-foot stone image was projected behind Arawn, along with an article about the fancy auction house that sold it.
Though he’d seen pictures of it all his life, Arawn stepped to the side and looked closely at the polished, carved marble creation. The life-size pixie knelt on the ground, surrounded by flowers. One hand trailed in the dirt and the other held up a large lily sitting in her palm. Her eyes were cast down as if she studied the soil, perhaps replacing dirt she’d recently dislodged.
Long hair flowed down her back and shoulders, with a few tendrils escaping to lay at her temples. She wore a long dress that flowed and pooled around her knees. Though made of stone, she looked ready to jump up and plant rows upon rows of flowers.
Caine cleared his throat. “Renata, mate of Ghazsul demon Verdak. They lived three thousand years ago. She died, and it’s presumed he is dead too,” he read. “The Halice Auction House recently acquired and sold the piece, one of the few works of art commissioned by Verdak. It sold to another Ghazsul demon named Thane.”
“Considering that the grimoire came from a Ghazsul, I think it’s safe to imagine the possibility that this is the creature to whom the message refers.” Fife pointed to the screen.
“All due respect, Fife…but there are probably a lot of females named Renata in the realms,” Aleksai said.
“Yeah, but none of them have as much of a mystery going on,” Caine said.
“You mean the sword?” Willow spoke up from the far side of the table. The only female in the inner circle, her belly was big and round with a baby that was due in a few months. “People have been looking for that thing for centuries.”
Arawn listened to his warriors’ debate. He could squash the whole topic right now…but a splinter of possibility refused to let it go. A splinter that irritated him because it might be true. The story of the Atropa sword was so outlandish that it had been easy to dismiss. But recently, odd events had been observed around the realm, like Ghazsuls sprouting wings and gaining the ability to use magic. If there was one lesson Arawn had learned in his eight hundred years, it was that anything, big or small, was possible.
“What do we know about Thane?” Scorpio asked. One of the most silent and lethal men Arawn had ever met, Scorpio rarely spoke, preferring to deal in weapons and ops.
“Heavy security any time he goes out, and also at his estate,” Caine rattled off facts. “Rich, corrupt, gangster, deals in drugs and money laundering.”
“Back to the statue,” Arawn said. “If the message refers to this pixie, then what’s the key?”
He was met with a round of noncommittal responses.
“Perhaps there’s a key hidden in the statue somewhere,” Fife said.
“A key to what?” Willow asked.
The spellcracker shrugged. “A locked room, vault, box, anything where the Atropa sword could be hidden.”
“Whoa. That’s a jump,” Aleksai said.
“Humor me, young one.” Fife’s tone was light but his eyes were serious. “Even the most impossible legends have the possibility of being true.”
And that was an exact echo of Arawn’s thoughts. Until it was proven not to exist, the possibility of the deadly weapon would always gnaw at him. If there were a chance it existed, and there were a chance that a Ghazsul, perhaps one in Verdak’s bloodline, was one step closer to finding it…Arawn needed to plan for every shit-tastic possibility.
It was bad enough that it might be out there. It would be worse if it fell into the hands of one who could activate the poison. It would be able to cut down any creature, from a water sprite to a huge Neshi demon, with one small wound. The user would be able to fell many before he grew tired.
Arawn had heard enough. “We need to get a closer look at the statue.” The chatter stopped and several surprised pairs of eyes regarded him. “Hunter. Caine. I need you at Thane’s estate. Tell me where he’s keeping the statue, what security he has, anything noteworthy. Recon only for now. We’ll devise a plan based on your intel.”
“Yes, sir.” They nodded and spoke in unison.
“Anything else?” Arawn asked.
A series of head shakes and “no” responses rounded the room.
“All right. Dismissed.”
Arawn watched his people file out. Loyal and fierce, they had all pledged to serve under his command and to help him preserve the balance of peace in the realms. He never hid the danger or the grueling training from them. Not all Lash demons who began his training program completed it to become Watchers. That was okay. This life wasn’t for everyone.
But these ten thrived on the thrill of a fight, of putting enemies in their place.
Not all Lash were fighters. Some were everyday people who ran businesses and raised families. People who looked to him for guidance and protection. Hence the administrative duties that necessitated his attention.
He half expected Ana to walk through the door with a new list of crap he had to do. But she didn’t. Good. He wasn’t going to let a spare afternoon go by. He needed to find Ria.
He felt like shit for walking out last night. She’d looked confused and pissed, as she should. He’d acted like an ass. But her face had also held concern, and he’d bet money that she was holding back from giving him a full tongue-lashing.
Not because she was his subordinate. But because he knew that rumors abounded about Lottie.
Everyone was cautious not to speak of her in front of him, but his former mate wasn’t a secret. The details were, but the bare bones were not.
And that was the thing about Ria. She had to have heard, like everyone else, that he’d lost his female long ago. But she hadn’t pushed him on it.
He owed her an apology. He rolled his shoulders and walked out of the room, pulling his phone from his pocket.
“Hello?” Her voice was rough with sleep and she cleared her throat. “Oh. Arawn. What do you need?”
“Relax, this isn’t official business. I didn’t mean to wake you. But it’s three in the afternoon.”
“Yeah, well, I had a little bit of trouble sleeping last night.” Her voice was sweet with a note of sarcasm.
Ah, fuck. He really didn’t want to apologize over the phone. But this was the logical place to say it. “I’m sorry.”
“Me too,” she mumbled.
Me too? What was she sorry for? Sorry that it happened? She’d kissed him back with unrestrained passion and intensity. He blew out a breath, suddenly needing to have this convo in person. “Can you meet me on the obstacle course? Caine changed the configuration. I want yo
u to run it with me.”
“Um, sure. Give me ten minutes.”
He ended the call and headed to his suite of rooms to change into track pants. In minutes he was back in the hallway, walking to the corridor that led to the rear of the building. He inhaled deeply as he strode out into the end-of-January sun. Here on Torth, the weather was the same no matter what month it was. Climate varied from north to south, but they didn’t have seasons. The air was approximately seventy degrees all the time.
He reached the course, which was set up behind the building and next to the outdoor sparring rings. The thing was a maze of ropes, walls, jagged barricades, and mud. Sometimes water, if Caine was in a creative mood. It was his job to redesign the course every month or two, since he easily remembered past setups without needing to look up old plans. Any tough challenges would be recreated. Any that ended up being too easy were nixed.
Arawn kicked off his shoes, preferring to run this course barefoot. He liked to see what his Watchers were up against. And he should be able to do all the physical things that he required of them. He shoved a hand through his hair, studying a new setup of barrels, when the scent of orange blossom curled into his nose.
He fought the urge to whirl around and drink her in; instead, he inhaled and held the breath, letting her scent overtake his mind. It had the odd duality of calming him and making him hyper-vigilant at the same time. Which didn’t make sense. They were in the safest place he could imagine in the realm, and anyway, Ria was tough.
She’s still recovering, a voice niggled.
“Hey.” Her voice drew him from his thoughts and he turned to her in a heartbeat, as if his muscles were done listening to his brain.
For a second he could only stare, frozen. She looked like sunshine personified, in a snug-fitting orange tank and gray running pants. Her blond curls were wrestled into a tight braid and her pale skin glowed in the afternoon light. She arched one perfect brow at him.
He cleared his throat and recovered. “You look good. Well rested.”
“Sleeping until three will do that to a girl.” She stretched her arms above her head, which only served to draw attention to her full breasts. The edges of her neon pink sports bra peeked out from her top, revealing the creamy upper swells that he’d touched yesterday…
