Harrah remained in the corner, watching me as I took a seat in front of the agent. Shifters could determine if someone was telling the truth, but it wasn’t necessary when a fae was in the room working her magic to make it happen. I didn’t fight it. I erected no shields to protect myself. I welcomed the magic as it laced around me, overtaking my mind. The soothing touch of it relaxed me to the point that I knew nothing of doing anything other than providing the truth.
The agent shuffled his papers and looked down at one in particular. “State your name.”
Fuck. This again. “Anya Kismet.” His eyes lifted and he studied me for a long time but didn’t seem surprised.
He continued, “Are you a Legacy?”
Being forced into telling the truth didn’t make the questions any less annoying. My mind felt open, and I knew Harrah kept her magic flowing over me. Savannah once expressed concern about Harrah and her strength and abilities because she could manipulate the memories of everyone in a club just by walking past them. There always seemed to be a slight indicator when magic was being performed, even if it was just a slight strain on the wielder’s face, a tick of their lips, a raising of fingers to direct it, or something. With Harrah, there was nothing. She performed magic as if it was as natural and automatic as breathing.
“Tell me what happened today when you were attacked,” he commanded in an even voice.
I told him every detail, even the parts that I should have been remorseful about. My tone matched his—I didn’t bother to show emotions that weren’t there.
“When Mr. Reynolds told you to stop, did you?”
“Yes, but I knew they would attack the moment I released them.”
“And you knew you would have to kill them?”
“I wanted to. I’ve lived my life in fear because of them. They killed my parents. Why do you think they were there, to invite me to brunch? They were there to kill me.”
“So, you thought you’d seek your own justice,” he asserted coolly.
I scoffed. “Should I have waited for you all to do something?” Then I looked at the two-way mirror, certain that Gareth was behind it watching. “I’m sure I could have counted on you to do nothing, since that seems to be what you all do when it comes to them and us.”
Harrah spoke. “Do you know that Conner and four others escaped and none of the Trackers responsible for taking them survived the incident? Would you like to see pictures of the scene? It’s nothing compared to the mess you left in our streets today.” For a brief moment, her gentle intonation had hardened. I assumed not because of the deaths but over the mess she was going to have to clean up because of that and Conner’s escape. He was supposed to be dead, they’d wanted that. Now he and his followers were on the loose, and they had to be pissed and ready to make people pay—including me.
I could tell the wheels were turning as she figured out what to do. Did she still think it was a good idea for me to come out? It didn’t matter, because I was sure Conner and his gang of magical elite crazies were about to make it difficult for anyone to admit any connection with Legacy, much less come out as one.
“I searched for them a couple of days ago and couldn’t find anything.”
“They didn’t want to be found, Levy. I don’t think you want them to find you either.” She warned in a soft voice.
I remembered the flashes of Conner’s angry glare as I’d subdued him. He’d considered me his future consort, a worthy companion. When he’d realized I wasn’t going to give in and concede to his romantic ideas and his Captain Crazy Pants plan of doing the Cleanse again, he’d become disenchanted with me.
For a fleeting moment I hoped his agenda had changed. If he had to be a sociopath with a cause, I hoped he’d started an anti-Tracker movement. Had everything that had transpired over the past few days changed him? He might not be as dangerous. He had fewer allies than he’d had before. Although I could see how he’d charmed the others, I wasn’t sure he had the time to do it to another group of people to increase his followers.
“Levy, I may need your assistance in fixing this,” Harrah admitted.
My head barely moved into the nod and I controlled the frown that was threatening to form and the wary glare that I wanted to direct in her direction. I didn’t want to assist Harrah. I didn’t even want to be around her. I’d seen her direct Gareth and an SG agent to make sure someone didn’t survive to be questioned or contradict the web of deceit that she would construct. She’d told outright lies and woven in lies of omission, all while she smiled for the cameras, docile and sweet. I really didn’t want to have anything to do with her.
She nodded at me and then to the agent. She left first; the agent remained behind.
“Don’t leave town in case we need you for more questioning.” He looked down again.
“If a person were trying to evade the SG, what would be the best way to do it? I’m asking for a friend.” I grinned, an attempt to coax a smile or even a smirk from him. His eyes were harsh as they looked back at me. The lines of his brow pulled even tighter together.
“I’m glad you find killing three people a joking matter. Do you think the human that witnessed it found it as funny, Ms. Michaels?”
His scathing look of contempt lay heavily on me.
“They were going to kill me. You do realize that’s why they were there? Would you have preferred it to be me lying in the street?” I countered. The guilt wasn’t there, and I was doubtful it would ever be no matter how he attempted to shame me for it.
“Do you have any family or friends that we can contact if we aren’t able to reach you at home or work?” he asked, ignoring my question.
I shook my head.
“These are the potential contacts we have.” He went on to name Kalen and Savannah and rattle off the addresses of their siblings and parents. I gaped at him as I realized how much they had delved into my life and what they knew about me. Was that typical, or was it a subtle threat to encourage compliance? I nodded.
“Good.” He nodded his head and left, leaving the door open behind him. I didn’t move initially, but when no one came in to release me, I slowly stood up. When I walked out of the room and passed the one adjacent to it, I saw Gareth standing still peering into the two-way mirror, listening intently to what the agent who had just left me was saying to him. They both glanced at me, and the agent said something else. Gareth responded, in a lowered voice; I wasn’t able to make out the words.
“Your car is at your home. Would you like me to take you there or do you want to call Savannah?” Gareth asked. Just like Harrah and the agent earlier, his tone was professionally cool.
I accepted his offer.
Once in the car, time ticked by as we drove in silence. The silence made the thirty-minute drive seem longer. Much longer.
“You’re asking for a friend—Levy, what’s wrong with you?” he demanded. At least it managed to coax a smile, albeit a small one, out of him. He kept his eyes on me, although I wished he dedicated more time to looking at the road.
“I was attempting to make him laugh hard enough to dislodge the stick that was firmly wedged up his ass.”
Gareth chuckled and shook his head. When he stopped, he hadn’t settled into his typical relaxed demeanor: something was bothering him. I supposed coming upon someone with three bodies lying at their feet might be a little alarming. But he’d seen worse. Maybe not from me, but I was sure he had.
“I want you to put a ward up in your apartment.”
“Why?”
“You’re probably going to be attacked today,” he admitted.
That is not something that should be said casually.
“Seems to be happening a lot lately,” I responded briskly, not caring to hide the irritation. It had taken up residence in me several days earlier. There wasn’t any need to pretend it wasn’t there.
“There will definitely be Trackers. I think I’ve found the leak.” He failed at his attempt to keep the frustration out of his voice as he pushed
the words through clenched teeth. “I’ve narrowed it down to two people. One of them thinks you will be staying at one of the SG safe houses, and the other knows you will be going home.”
“Is the latter the stick-up-the-butt agent from earlier?”
He nodded and frowned, his anger showing as he accelerated, passing the cars that had the audacity to go the speed limit. “It’s harder to discern when another shifter isn’t being truthful, and I’m always cautious around those who can lie without any noticeable differences in their vitals. It serves them well when working on behalf of the SG, but I have always been leery. One mage and the shifter have been particularly concerned that you all still exist and have made comments about the numbers they expect there are. It seems that they are privy to information that only”—his eyes slipped in my direction—“you and Trackers would have.”
The muscles of his neck bulged as he clenched his jaw. I wasn’t sure if he was silent out of embarrassment that he had a leak or because he thought his agents would be more open-minded about Legacy.
I didn’t hurry taking a shower, despite the fact that Gareth was waiting for me in the living room. The warmth of the water was relaxing enough, but it didn’t help the way I’d expected it would. Of all the times for them to rear their unwarranted heads, guilt and remorse crept into the many emotions I was feeling. It was getting harder for me to force them out. I had been conditioned to be better. My parents had taught me to fight, but instilled the mandate to preserve life when possible. Years of being hunted and seeing the lifeless bodies of my parents and their friend made me advocate for preserving life even when people didn’t deserve it. I based this stance on how others felt about us—we didn’t deserve it. “You’re not a murderer,” I’d heard my mother tell me over and over. I now realized she’d done it because I would constantly be told tales of how my kind were nothing but ruthless, callous murderers. I’d internalized a “do no harm” philosophy to my detriment. I should have killed the Trackers who’d come after me earlier instead of wiping their memories.
I didn’t own the guilt and remorse for killing the most recent Trackers, and by the end of the shower, I had a better perspective of what I planned to do. It included finding Conner, ending his plans, and finding the other Legacy before Conner or Trackers did.
I opened the door of the bathroom to find Gareth in the chair on the opposite side of my room, his legs stretched out in front of him as he thumbed through the pages of one of my graphic novels.
“Please, make yourself at home,” I said sarcastically.
He looked up, baring his teeth in a roguish grin. “I did. Thank you.” He returned to the novel and flipped through several more pages as I cinched the towel tighter around me and gathered some clothing out of the dresser. When I turned around, he was scrutinizing me.
“Are you okay?” he asked.
I nodded. He rose from the chair, his eyes remaining on me. His head angled and he continued to study me as he cleared the few feet between us. “What’s wrong?” he asked, his tone softer and concerned.
It felt ridiculous that I had a problem telling him that I wasn’t going to feel sorry for what I’d done to the Trackers. I inhaled deeply, but instead of it being cleansing I became aware of Gareth. Our proximity, the masculine musk that was uniquely his, the primal nature of his existence. When he placed his hand on my waist, the touch was soothing. I was almost positive I could feel the heat of his caress through the fabric. The pads of fingers hugged my stomach and I leaned into his touch needing to feel more of him.
His mesmeric blue eyes stayed fastened to mine.
“I guess it won’t do any good for me to just make something up?” I said.
He shrugged. “Hasn’t really stopped you before. I find your stories entertaining. What do you have for me?” he teased. With each word he’d inched closer, taking up any space that had managed to remain between us. His lips brushed against mine as he spoke the last ones. I leaned in, pressing my lips against his. Seconds before, I’d stopped lying to myself that the chemistry between us was a distraction. I wanted Gareth. He responded fervently, kissing me hard, the weight of his body urging me back against the wall. His fingers grasped the towel on each side, pulling me closer to him. I ran my fingers through his hair, kissing him harder, exploring his mouth and tasting him.
One tug and the towel dropped to the floor. Pulling back for a second, he gave me a long, lingering once-over, slowly roving over me inch by inch. His eyes blazed with raw sensuality as they raked over me. He leaned in closer, kissing me fervently as his fingers stroked lazily over the bare skin of my shoulders and arms and then lightly stroking over my breasts. He sucked in a ragged breath and I could feel the rapaciousness of his need in his touch as his hands roved over me, exploring further. His tongue flicked out to taste me, gliding over jaw, neck, shoulder, and breast. Panting, I tried to catch my breath as he eased over my stomach, my thighs, and between them. He pulled away and yanked off his clothes in one sweeping move.
He pulled me to him, and I wrapped my legs around him as he carried me to the bed and lowered me onto it. He resumed his fervent exploration of my body, and when he moved up to my face, I kissed him again. He pushed away for a moment, his gaze slowly roving over my body as he moistened his lips. Again, he kissed me- harder, hungrier and more commanding. He slipped between my legs, sheathing himself in me. He rocked against me, languid and easy at first. He writhed inside of me, bringing me to new heights of pleasure as my body willingly succumbed to the animalistic nature of his movements and raw sensuality. His touch was still gentle as his breath breezed against my lips, but his thrusts became more vigorous as we found our sensual rhythm. Gareth shuddered as my fingers grazed over his skin. His body was a blanket of warmth as he relaxed more of his weight into me. His movements were frenetic, filled with a need to find our pleasure. I couldn’t stop running my hands over his body, craving even more of him. A feeling that was definitely mutual as his kisses became hungrier, more voracious before trailing over the rest of my body: my neck, my shoulder, my breast. My fingers curled into his back as we reached our pleasure together, and then he relaxed on top of me. He whispered my name into my ear.
I recalled him teasing me about my desire to hear him purr—the lazy way he said my name wasn’t far off. I liked it.
He continued to languorously run his fingers over the curves of my body. After a few moments of silence, he asked, “Are you able to put up the ward, or do you need a nap?”
This guy. “I think I can gather the energy to walk down the hall and put up a ward to stop a mage.”
“Now who’s the arrogant one,” he teased, rolling to his side and taking me with him so that we faced each other. His hands never left my body, keeping contact with me. I looked into his eyes and the carnal sensuality I saw there evoked an urge to repeat what had just happened.
He kissed me long and hard as if he was thinking the same thing. His kissed me again and then flicked his tongue against my lips and pulled back. “Ward,” he reminded me. “You put up the ward, and I’ll fix us something to eat.” He rolled out of bed and headed for the door.
I cleared my throat before he could exit, and he raised an eyebrow in inquiry. I stared at him, allowing my eyes to travel the length of his body and come to rest on an area I was sure Savannah wouldn’t want to see when she entered the apartment.
“What?” he asked.
“Do you think you might want to put on your clothes?”
“Not really”—he flashed me a crooked smile—“and based on what I’m picking up from you, I don’t think you want me to, either.”
“Your humility is inspiring,” I responded, rolling my eyes. His movements were graceful and fluid as he grabbed up his pants and slipped into them. I watched him the whole time.
CHAPTER 4
Three hours after the ward was erected we sat in my living room as Savannah’s attention bounced between Gareth and me as we explained everything that had happened and she peppered
us with questions we couldn’t answer. When I explained why I was warding the apartment, she looked more concerned.
“Who are we really warding the house against?” She cast a dark look in Gareth’s direction.
“It could be someone at the SG or even Trackers. I’m not sure they haven’t been given your information,” Gareth said.
“Unless Conner gets here first,” Savannah said with an edge to her voice that I hadn’t ever heard before. Our eyes widened at her rigid snarl. She was worried and rightfully so. The risk of being attacked by Conner was just as great as being captured by a Tracker.
“Most of his people didn’t make it out,” Gareth said.
This information didn’t change Savannah’s mood or the intensity of her rictus. Her stormy gray eyes kept moving from us to the door, expectant and frustrated. Gareth directed the same watchful concern he’d had for me at her now. I hated that she felt anything other than ease in her home, but she seemed to have a heightened awareness and if something was going to happen it would serve her well.
Renegade Magic (Legacy Series Book 3) Page 4
