“I’d like to renegotiate our deal.”
Dread dropped like a brick into the pit of Roxie’s stomach. Despite the strangeness of it all, her deal with Sevrin had been the best thing to happen to her since the TV competition. “Have I disappointed you in some way?” She cringed. That made her sound like a mealy-mouthed servant. “Your men have never waited on another client and they have each seemed pleased with my work.”
“You were a novelty. They were thrilled just to be alone with an attractive female, but the novelty has worn off.”
What the hell was she talking about? Why would full-grown, extremely well-developed, men find being alone with a woman novel? Rather than admit her confusion, she remained silent and waited for Sevrin to elaborate.
“I expected this obsession with tattoos to wear off as well, but some of them seem determined to cover their entire bodies in ink.”
They need the pain. Roxie kept the observation to herself as well. Most people experienced a rush of endorphins when they went under the needle. It could be oddly relaxing, exhilarating, even arousing. With Sevrin’s men it was like a drug. They felt it faster and more intensely than anyone Roxie had ever seen before. It was as if they were wired, or had been conditioned, to process pain as pleasure. And it happened with each and every one of them.
“If they’re interest is still strong, I’m not sure I understand the problem.” She chose her words carefully. She’d yet to see it happen, but she suspected that Sevrin could strike like a riled cobra, fast and deadly.
Sevrin stared at her silently for a tense moment. Roxie held her gaze, refusing to cower, yet trying to appear respectful. She needed this arrangement. Sevrin had provided a more lucrative revenue stream than Roxie ever dreamed and she intended to enjoy the windfall as long as possible. Commercial space anywhere on the Strip was far beyond her means, which limited her clientele to locals and the rare tourist who cared enough to seek her out.
“Who said there was a problem?” Sevrin smiled, but her brown eyes remained flat and lifeless.
This wasn’t the first time Roxie had wondered if Sevrin was wearing colored contacts. Even the most realistic ones muted a person’s ability to emote. But if she was wearing contacts, why choose such an ordinary shade of brown?
Shaking away the useless speculation, Roxie allowed herself to relax. “If there isn’t a problem, why does our agreement need to be changed?”
“There are other services I wish to arrange.”
Roxi glared, no longer caring if she lost her most important client. “I don’t turn tricks for anyone. Never have. Never will.”
Another cold, calculating smile parted Sevrin’s lips. “And I wasn’t asking you to spread your thighs. Relax. This is simple and it pays extremely well.”
She moved behind the counter, needing some sort of barrier between her and her unsettling guest. “I’m listening.”
“You’re like a bartender. People trust you, like you. Talk to you.”
“I’d love to take your money, but none of your men have said anything important to or in front of me.”
“How do you know?” She paused, allowing the question to resonate. “Do you speak our language?”
She wasn’t even sure what their language was. It had fascinated her ever since the first man switched to the guttural dialect. She’d listened to language samples on the internet, determined to identify theirs and failed. She’d never heard anything like it. “You know I don’t.”
“And so do they, which is why they speak freely in front of you.”
“I tried to learn Spanish a few years ago.” She shook her head, remembering the frustration and her utter lack of aptitude. “I suck at it.”
“My country has pioneered learning technology that isn’t as yet approved by your government.” She smoothed down her narrow skirt then moved closer to the counter. “That’s one of the reasons I’m here.”
If she were in negotiations with the US government, wouldn’t she be in Washington, DC? Suspicion urged Roxie back, but curiosity held her steady.
“I know what you’re thinking. National negotiations don’t take place in Las Vegas. But you’re wrong. Influential government officials agreed to meet me here because we don’t want the media finding out about the technology until we’re ready for an official announcement.”
That more or less made sense, but it also flooded Roxie’s mind with questions. “Where are you from? Every time I’ve asked, you or your men, you dodge the question.”
“Korzakistan. It’s a tiny country in Eastern Europe, doesn’t even appear on most maps. But it has always been politically neutral, which is why so many scientists sought asylum there.”
“Then you speak Russian?” Roxie was by no means a linguist, but their language hadn’t sounded like Russian to her.
“We do, but that’s not what they have been speaking in front of you. When my men become secretive, they revert to an ancient dialect known only to a select few. It amuses them to exclude others from their conversation.”
“And you have technology that can teach me this ancient dialect?”
Sevrin nodded and the overhead lights accented the subtle blue streaks in her dark hair. “You would be required to sign a nondisclosure agreement, of course. I can’t have something you say in passing compromise the negotiations.”
“If the technology works as well as you claim and I can miraculously understand them, what then?”
“You report back to me daily with a summation of everything you’ve heard. Obviously, if they realize you can understand them both our agreements will be terminated.”
“Obviously,” Roxie grumbled. “Is continuing our original agreement still an option if I turn you down?”
“Sorry. I need more from you.”
All or nothing. She wasn’t surprised, but she sure as hell didn’t like it. “How do I know this mysterious technology won’t scramble my brain? There could be a very good reason it’s not available in the US.”
“How do you think I learned English? The technology is perfectly safe.”
Roxi hated being backed into a corner, but her only option was to walk away. Her first instinct was to tell Sevrin to go to hell, but she had more than just herself to think about. Sevrin’s generosity had allowed her to update equipment, triple the marketing budget, and fund renovations that had only begun. Her friends were busier than ever, which allowed them to charge more for their time. All of that would disappear in an instant if she said no.
“I need to think about it.”
“I’d allow you time if I could. Nazerel is scheduled this evening and he’s my primary concern.”
Now that made perfect sense. Nazerel emanated belligerent authority and subtle menace. A clash between Nazerel and Sevrin would be inevitable. “He comes in all the time. I’ll just—”
“He’s recently been made aware of some delicate information. I need to know if I can trust him with what he’s learned.”
Information might be powerful, but it was also dangerous. Roxie had watched enough crime dramas to know what happened to the informant once she knew too much. “I’m really not comfortable with any of this.”
“Then I’ll take my business elsewhere.” Sevrin rested her fingertips on the countertop and slowly leaned in. “You already know more than I’d intended to tell you. You’re only safe because you’re useful.”
Roxi’s pulse thudded wildly and her ears began to ring. How had she gotten herself caught up in this mess? It didn’t matter. As the boss lady said, she was already in too deep. “All right,” she whispered. “I’ll do it.”
* * * * *
With obvious reluctance, Odintar lifted Jillian off his lap and set her on the ottoman. It was probably a wise precaution. If they remained within touching distance, they were sure to touch and likely a whole lot more. She’d never been this attracted to a man she’d just met and couldn’t explain the fascination now. All she knew was she couldn’t seem to get enough of Odintar.
“I need to let Lor know what’s going on.” He sounded hoarse yet breathless.
Her cheeks were hot and her lips tender, but she’d never felt more desirable. “Cell phones are still not an option?”
He nodded. “I’ll just be a minute.”
“Go on.” She waved him away. “I could use a minute to catch my breath anyway.”
He rested back in the chair and closed his eyes, then his features went lax. Before she had time to miss him, their mental connection buzzed to life. Had he intentionally activated their link so she could hear the conversation or was it a side effect of her newly released power? The specifics didn’t matter, as long as he knew she wasn’t intentionally spying on him.
She felt Odintar’s telepathic ping requesting Lor’s presence on the metaphysical plane. Rather than waste energy on visualizations, they increased the strength of their shields and communicated spirit to spirit. She found it all interesting yet daunting. Could she really learn how to do all these things?
How’s your patient this morning? My mate is concerned that we’re expecting too much from her after the trauma of her accident.
Mate? Lor had to mean Tori? Did Tori consider Lor her “mate”?
Odintar was amused by Lor’s ambiguity. Not knowing their enemy’s exact capabilities was making them all paranoid. Tell your mate not to worry. My patient is remarkably resilient.
Do you have something specific to report or are you just checking in?
Translation: cut to the chase, buddy. I’m a busy man.
Odintar didn’t seem insulted by Lor’s impatience. We’ve never been able to pin down the motivation of the Dirty Dozen.
Beyond flagrant disobedience and lust?
Rebellion might have launched their campaign, but what kept it going for so long?
Outsmarting the people sent to capture them.
She didn’t think Lor was being intentionally cruel, but even after all these years the failure still stung Odintar. Odintar didn’t like to lose and his showdown with the Dirty Dozen had been a disaster. I’m sure that was part of it, but I now have evidence of Rodyte involvement.
Rodytes, Lor sneered. Always the gods damn Rodytes. His tone was calmer as he asked, What evidence?
My patient is filled with elemental magic. There is no way her father was Ontarian.
How does that implicate Rodymia? Most elemental magic flows from Bilarri.
True, but Lord Drakkin discovered a segment of the Rodyte population that retained the ability to manipulate magic.
Who the hell was Lord Drakkin? Damn it. She still had so much to learn.
That’s right. He defused the conflict so quickly, I’d almost forgotten about it.
I have more reason to keep up with Bilarrian developments than you do.
Can’t argue with that. Lor’s amused chuckle rippled into Odintar’s mind then slid across their connection. It was all so strange. Still, the odds point to Bilarri not Rodymia.
We both know Rodymia had far more to gain by involving themselves with the Dirty Dozen than anyone on Bilarri. We know for a fact Rodymia is sponsoring the Shadow Assassins and we have strong indications that the two situations are linked.
Get me a sample of your patient’s DNA and I’ll prove or disprove your hypothesis.
Soon.
A burst of possessiveness propelled Jillian back into the present. There was no denying that Odintar thought of her as his, but the impulse felt protective rather than malicious. She’d have to rid him of the idea sooner or later. But first she had to decide what she wanted out of their relationship. Relationship? She fought back a laugh. When had they entered into a relationship? He was her doctor turned teacher and they had the hots for each other. No one would define that as a relationship.
He pinched off the connection and took a deep breath. She couldn’t sense him anymore.
“That was fast.” Jillian quickly formed a smile as he opened his eyes. Should she tell him she’d heard his exchange with Lor and that she’d been able to sense his emotions? He already had all sorts of advantages over her. She decided to hold on to this one for a while. Not that it was much of an advantage unless the link spontaneously activated again.
“Didn’t want to give you time to cause trouble.”
“Me?” She chuckled. “Never. Angie’s the one who runs headfirst into danger.”
“So we noticed. Blayne will have his hands full just protecting her from herself.”
Jillian stood and moved away, but her gaze lingered on him. “What now? Is Bilarrian magic controlled differently than Ontarian?”
“Ontarian magic requires discipline and focus. Bilarrian magic accesses the powers of nature. It’s raw, instinctual. It’s about releasing control and letting your elemental nature take over. Generally a Bilarrian is more attune to the element of his or her ancestral region. Your abilities appear to flow from Air, so your father’s people once lived somewhere in the San Adrin deserts.”
“Unless he was from the other planet. How does Rodyte magic work?” Needing something to do with her hands, she slipped them into her back pockets. His gaze started to descend and she realized the position thrust her breasts forward. She immediately crossed her arms instead.
“The vast majority of Rodytes can’t control magic,” he reminded as his gaze settled again on her face.
“That’s right. They’re at war because of it.” She raised her fingertips to her temples and rubbed in tight, slow circles, hoping to head off the pressure building there. The day had just begun. The last thing she needed was a migraine. “Then what made you think my father could be Rodymian or Rodyte or whatever the hell they’re called.”
“Rodyte, and if magic were the only factor, I’d say your father was Bilarrian. However, it’s far more likely that a Rodyte would be in league with reprobates like the Dirty Dozen than a Bilarrian.”
“Wow. That’s a sweeping generalization. You basically said all Bilarrians are good and all Rodytes are evil.”
“That’s not what I said.” He pushed to his feet and sidestepped the ottoman. “Rodytes, like Sevrin Keire, are trying to find a technological way of attaining magical abilities. Most Bilarrians don’t need such technology because they can already manipulate magic.”
“That aligns them with the Shadow Assassins not the Dirty Dozen.” She wasn’t intentionally provoking him, but she was annoyed by his narrow-minded views. “You’re not even sure those two are related.”
“I might not have empirical evidence proving the connection, but I am more than sure it’s there.”
“Okay, for the sake of argument, let’s say you’re right.”
“You’ll only allow me to be right for the sake of argument?” He laughed as something dark and dangerous shadowed his gaze. No blue rings yet, so she hadn’t totally pissed him off, but she was definitely headed in that direction.
“Isn’t it just as possible that this Sevrin person found out about the Dirty Dozen and decided to capitalize on a coincidental opportunity?”
“I don’t believe in coincidence.”
It was her turn to laugh and hers was as humorless as his had been. “And that makes it a fact?”
He stalked toward her. She held her ground. “I’m glad you’re feeling stronger, but I know the situation better than you do. I have extensive history and context for my opinions. I’m not the bigot you’re trying to paint me.”
She softened her tone without looking away from his penetrating stare. “I never said you were a bigot. I was just asking you to consider other options.”
“I’ve considered every option imaginable. For the past thirty years, options and possibilities have haunted my dreams and complicated my thinking.” He grabbed her upper arms and yanked her toward him. “Don’t you get it? I’m responsible for their suffering. If I’d been a better leader, if my team had performed to their potential, far fewer lives would have been shattered.”
“How can it be your fault? They came here as part of a program sponso
red by both the Ontarian and US governments.”
“The program might have created the opportunity, but no one could have anticipated such dishonorable behavior.”
“I agree.” She moved even closer and raised her hands to his chest. “They were sexual predators. Unless the people running the program had warning signs they ignored, no one is to blame but the men themselves.”
“That would be true if I’d done my job. I was my first off-world mission as Team Leader and I failed utterly. I was so arrogant, so inflexible that I compromised the objective.” His forehead creased and regret ignited the blue rings in his eyes.
She slipped her arms around his neck and pressed against his body. “You keep saying that, but I don’t understand why you think it’s true.”
“Their behavior escalated once they realized they were being pursued. They dared us, provoked us at every turn. And each of their ‘lessons’ was taught at the expense of human females. It dragged on for three years.”
As if his gaze wasn’t tragic enough, emotions trickled across their link. Guilt, shame and sorrow heaved and twisted, blending into one indistinguishable pain. She knew he was blocking the emotions, so the intensity of each must have been one hundred times stronger than what she was feeling.
“I don’t know about the other women, but my mother’s life wasn’t ‘shattered’ by my birth. Yes, it made her bitter and shifted her priorities, but she loved me, still loves me. And for the most part her life has been happy.” Her words were as much a reminder to herself as a statement to him. Her mother was more than her mistrust of men and Jillian sometime forgot all the good. Her mother had built a satisfying, if a bit unconventional life for herself and she had provided well for her daughter. “If your mission had gone as planned, I might never have existed.”
The blue faded from his gaze and he released a weary sigh. “It’s hard to argue with that.”
Fallen Star Page 10
