by Cece Rose
"I have a task for you," Jason smiles charmingly at him.
"A task f-for me?" Kris stutters out.
"Take a seat," Jason offers, sliding deeper into the booth, so the younger man can sit down. I pull a questioning face at Jason, who only smiles wider in return. The fuck is he playing at now?
Kris slowly takes the seat, sitting right on the edge. He looks ready to bolt any fucking second. "H-how can I help you?" he asks.
"Well, you my friend, are going to watch someone for me," Jason says.
"Watch someone?"
"Yes, you're going to be keeping an eye on someone for me. following them. You will report to me via phone every day at 8pm sharp, and you will contact me via text with anything that stands out as soon as it happens."
"You w-want me to spy on someone?" he stumbles out.
"Yes, Adrian Locke, a wolf, you know of him I am sure?" Jason says nonchalantly.
"Adrian Locke? B-but–”
"But what, Kris? Are you saying you're not up for the job I've so graciously asked you to do for me?" Jason questions, his voice growing colder, his smile fading.
"Course not. I w-will watch him. It’s j-just–"
“Just what?”
“N-nothing . . . I would be h-honoured to help,” he stumbles in reply. The fear of displeasing Jason evident in his eyes.
I grit my teeth to keep from saying anything, hating this side of my brother’s personality, but knowing he developed it as a means of survival. If only he’d left when I did, he could have been saved that pain. As much as I hate Cyrus and what he stands for now, his family gave me a home. One where I didn’t have to use cruelty and manipulation on a daily basis. The same can’t be said for my brother. I feel sick at the cruelty in his eyes.
"Fantastic. I will need you to start immediately. Hand me your phone," Jason demands. Kris complies, unlocking and handing over his iPhone without question. Jason taps in his personal mobile number and sends a text to his own phone before handing the phone back. "I will text you Mr. Locke's home and work addresses. Go. Now," he says, his tone brokering no argument.
"N-now?" Kris asks, already moving.
"Yes now, leave," Jason snaps. Kris all but falls over rushing from the seat, he practically jogs to one of the metal staircase exits. I can’t help but feel sorry for him, he was better off being unnoticed, looked over. Now that he’s been pulled in, he is unlikely to get out. There will always be something else someone higher wants, and now that Jason has used him, it wouldn’t be long before someone else does too. People are pawns to play with in the pride. After all, that’s what we we’re taught.
"Really?" I question, raising an eyebrow at my brother. "That guy is possibly the worst person to send to spy on Adrian, he'll be spotted within minutes," I add.
"Exactly," Jason says, smiling again, his voice back to its normal tone.
"I don't see what you're hoping to achieve," I say, taking another swig of my drink, the burning feeling cleansing on the way down.
"Adrian will spot that runt in no fucking time," Jason says.
"And?"
"He'll know he's being watched by the cats too. The wolves have been watching him for a long time as it is. It'll trip him up. What animal likes to feel cornered?"
"You know sometimes, brother, you're a fucking genius. An evil one, but a genius nonetheless," I reply, a smile taking over my own face. A cornered animal would act out, and then Selena would leave. Where else could she go but back to me? I just need to wait it out. I can do that.
"Here's to cornering stray dogs," Jason says, raising the pilfered drink from Kris.
I clink my glass against his wordlessly, and we both down our drinks. Jason nods at my now empty glass, and stands. I shake my head and he sighs, heading toward the bar, regardless. I watch him as he leans against the bar causally, almost immediately approached by some of the women from the pride the second he’s alone. I roll my eyes at how ridiculously they throw themselves at him, not realising how completely futile their attempts are. If only they knew. I chuckle to myself and sit back in my seat, letting my thoughts drift back to Selena.
Surely,it couldn't take too long for her to realise what a fool Adrian is? If it takes more than a week, I'm going back, and she'll be leaving whether she bloody wants to or not.
Chapter Five
Cyrus
"You need to sleep, Cy."
I look up at Alex standing over my desk, his blue eyes bore into me, as if he's willing me to listen to his words. I look back down at my computer screen and continue working. There is too much to do; I can sleep when I am dead.
"Cyrus," he growls, smacking his hands down on my desk.
I look back up and fix my eyes on him, wordlessly staring him out. Waiting for him to back up and leave already. He steps back a few paces, but doesn't leave the room, refusing to obey me.
"Go," I snap when he doesn't appear to take the hint.
"No. You need to sleep. The shifter gathering is next week, and we still have fucking tons to prepare, and you're no use when you're too exhausted to function," he says.
"The gathering is your concern?" I question, resisting the urge to strangle him, just. "I have a missing shifter, a rogue shifter, a mate that ran off with said rogue shifter. And, to top it all off, I’m trying to pin down who is responsible for messing with the batch last month. The drugs we sell are meant to be safe. Now, I've got those deaths to make up for, too," I reply, sighing as I massage my fingers across my forehead. The tension headache is becoming almost unbearable. I open my desk drawer and pull out some stronger painkillers, swallowing them dry.
"You know their deaths weren't your fault. You only started distributing when the deaths first started. You did it to provide a clean product, you can't blame yourself over someone messing with it. They are trying to pin this on you, so your product is forced off the streets and theirs is there alone with no competitors. You can't let them do that."
Alex makes it sound so reasonable, justified even. But, I know my parents would never approve of the things I’ve done; the things I continue to do. If people turned in their graves, my parents turned every damn day.
"You think I don't know that? We can't go public without the shifters losing their shit, and I can't pull my product even if it carries a risk of someone messing with it again. Our WB may be at risk, but theirs is a ticking time bomb. They're waiting for the ideal time to strike, not just a batch here and there for testing. They want us dead," I reply.
“Like you’ve always said, Cy. We need to keep up the pretence of everything being okay. They can’t know that they’ve gotten to us,” Alex says, repeating the words I’ve said to him so many times. My phone buzzes on the desk. I look at the caller ID and groan. What now?
“Talk to me,” I mutter, answering it.
“We found him,” the voice replies.
“Alive?” I ask, not getting my hopes up, knowing better than to risk disappointment. People die, lots of them around me.
“Yes, barely. And there’s a girl here, too,” they answer. I can hear other voices talking in the background, the sounds of car doors slamming shut.
“Alive or dead?” I ask.
“Alive. She’s less roughed up than he is, but they’re both suffering from dehydration and exhaustion.”
“Are you taking them to the clinic or here?”
“On the way to the clinic now. He needs urgent medical attention, but the prognoses looks good if we get him seen to. She is probably fine enough to be brought back, but she doesn’t want to leave him,” he replies.
“Is the girl a shifter or human?” I ask.
“Shifter, newly turned. About time we had some luck there,” he replies, a bit of cheer slipping into his voice.
“Did you get the girl’s name?” I ask.
“Nah, let me ask her, hold on a sec. . . .Hey, hey! What’s your name, girl?” I hear him ask. There’s a tense moment of silence in my office as I wait with baited breath on the answer, knowing th
is could be a key to luring Lena here.
“Well?” I ask, when the answer doesn’t come straight away.
“Melissa, the girl says her name is Melissa.”
Chapter Six
Adrian
Walking into the kitchen, I notice Lena sitting in her usual spot, perched on top of the kitchen counter. The same spot she’s occupied every day this week that she’s been staying here, anyway. She's positioned, so she can look out the window, clutching her coffee in her hands tightly. She's gazing at something, paying me no attention as I walk in.
"Morning," I mumble, trailing my eyes down her bare legs stretched out across the kitchen worktop. She’d borrowed my shirt to sleep in the first night, and hadn’t returned it after picking up her own meagre belongings. I didn’t really mind much, it left me with a pleasant view of her toned legs every morning.
"Afternoon," she corrects, still not looking at me.
“You’re chirpy,” I mutter, rubbing at my temples. How can it be afternoon, my head feels like it’s the morning?
“Someone is watching the house,” she replies, not moving her eyes from the window, clearly not willing to let whoever it is out of her line of sight. I walk over to the window and look out. I look across the street and spot a young, blond man sitting in a car. He appears to have fallen asleep.
“He’s doing a great job of it,” I say sarcastically, moving to make myself some coffee. Black, no sugar. Only good for one thing, clearing my morning headache so I can focus. We need to go over the plan for Monday.
“He’s been there since last night,” she says, hopping off the counter. I turn and face her, seeing her angry expression and arms crossed over her chest.
“So?” I ask, turning back to pour the hot water into my coffee mug.
“Shouldn’t we go find out who he is?” she asks flippantly.
“I already know,” I mutter. “Well, I suspect.”
“Care to fucking enlighten me then, asshole?” she spits, moving to tap her nails on the counter.
The noise is so fucking vexing. I sigh. “There’s only two people likely to have sent someone to watch us. Think about it, and I am sure you can work it out,” I answer her, stirring a spoon around in the mug.
“Cyrus and Erik?” she asks, voice losing its bite.
“Yes, but it doesn’t matter who sent who. We need to run over the plan again,” I say, taking a sip of the hot coffee, feeling it burn my tongue on the way down.
“We’ve gone over that stupid plan ten times now!” she snaps. “I could fucking recite it back to you.”
“Everything needs to—”
“Run smoothly, yeah I get it,” she says imitating me sarcastically, cutting as she cuts me off. She looks back out the window, glaring at the sleeping man in the car. “Fuck it,” she mutters. She storms out of the kitchen, and through the living room, and I watch as she rushes out the front door, wearing nothing but a long shirt.
Damn it, woman. I follow after her, her bare feet storming across the pavement as she makes her way to the car. She bangs on the driver side window, shocking him awake. He looks at her startled for a moment, and then turns the key in the ignition, ready to drive away. She wrenches the car door open, before he can leave. I hear the lock break as she does.
“Tell whoever the fuck sent you to fuck off! If it’s Cyrus, tell him I’ll be seeing him real fucking soon. And, if it’s Erik, telling him fucking forever isn’t long enough!” she yells grabbing the guy’s shirt. I notice the tips of her fingers starting to change where they are holding onto him.
She gasps in pain and steps back holding her hands in front of her, staring at them as if they’re alien. He looks between the two of us, her dressed in a long, baggy, old shirt of mine that she borrowed, and me in nothing but workout shorts. Yeah whatever buddy, make assumptions.
She’s rubbing her now human again hands together, looking at them from every angle possible, as if trying to see any imperfections or abnormalities. He seizes the opportunity to drive, not even bothering to close the car door.,
I grab Lena, pulling her back out of the way, so it doesn’t slam into her as he suddenly reverses back past us. The car door misses her by inches
“What the fuck were you thinking,” I growl at her.
“I’m just so fucking sick of sitting around. I need to be out finding Melissa, not sitting around drinking coffee and going over the same plan, over and over again,” she rants, her hands dropping back to her sides.
“Focus, Lena. On Monday, we go to the shifter gathering. And, by Friday, Cyrus Hunter will be dead, and you may know what happened to your friend. We will question him first, I promise you,”
“But—”
“But nothing, Lena. We have a plan. One that benefits us both, we’re sticking to it.”
“Fine, but one thing,” she says softly.
“What?” I ask. She looks up at me, a steel determination in her eyes.
“If anything happened to Melissa, I’m driving that silver dagger of yours through his heart myself.”
End of Part Three.
The story continues in part four, Accepting Fate.
Coming October 2017
Please continue reading for a sneak peek at A Demon’s Debt, book two of the Desdemona Chronicles
A Demon’s Debt - Chapter One
I’m standing up in the bathtub, favouring the overhead shower, when I find myself singing along to the soft music I’ve left playing as I wash the last remnants of shampoo from my hair. A bittersweet feeling rises up in my heart, the song reminding me of Luna. Water cascading down my face from the shower masks any tears that fall.
The slower song drifts off and is replaced by a faster beat, one with a rocky tune. “The darkness I dance with, it’s become a part of me. Defenceless, I guess yes, that’s what you see. But, I’ll fight back, I’ll attack, this ain’t the end of me,” I sing along, completely out of tune and make up little dance moves to go along with the song; the water still spraying down over my head. By the time the song hits the chorus, I’m thankful the guys aren’t home, and that there’s a lot of space surrounding the house, meaning no neighbours to make noise complaints. Screaming out the chorus, I make a kicking motion with my leg. Suddenly, I find myself losing balance and falling. I grab for the shower curtain I’d left opened, missing it by a hair’s breadth.
The words of the chorus catch in my throat as I’m slipping back. I brace myself for the impact of the floor, shutting my eyes tight and hoping for the best. This is going to hurt. I fall back into something soft. A person; someone has just caught me. My eyes fly open, and I stare up at the face.
Note to self-you should never sing in the shower. Singing leads to dancing, and dancing will inevitably lead to slipping, thus making an ass out of yourself, and inadvertently hurting said ass. Of course, that would never normally matter; who is going to be there to witness your embarrassment? But, in my mess of a life, apparently, demons think it’s fine to interrupt me in the shower. Go figure.
“Adam!” I screech, immediately pulling away and covering myself with my hands. He smiles sinfully at me. Then very slowly and very deliberately he casts his eyes across me. I feel the burn staining my cheeks as I stare daggers at him. He chuckles and averts his eyes, rolling them dramatically. He reaches for the towel to the left of him and holds it out toward me. I snatch at it and quickly wrap it around myself.
“Why, if I knew you needed a devilishly-handsome knight in shining armour to save you, I would have put on another kind of suit.” He looks down at himself, now covered in wet blotches, with a grimace. He grabs another towel and attempts in vain to dry his once pristine suit.
“Seriously? You come into my bathroom while I’m showering, where I am naked, and I almost fall to my death–” he looks up arching his dark eyebrow at me. “Okay, maybe not to my death, but still. What I’m trying to say is, what are you doing here? And, get the FUCK out!” I screech at him.
“Calm down, kitten, and stop the me
lodramatics. Is that any way to say thank you to your saviour?” He sighs, giving up on drying his suit and throws the towel to the floor. “And, believe me, love, you have a good enough body, but nothing I haven’t seen before. Just before I got here, actually, I made a pitstop to one of my favourite Russian supermodels. The legs on that–”
“Get. Out. Now!” I grind out.
Adam huffs in indignation. “Fine. I’ll be waiting in your bedroom, we have things to discuss and to plan out. Do hurry, I don’t have all bloody night, woman.” His eyes roam over me one last time before stepping out of the bathroom, closing the door quietly with a click.
I grab another towel and try to rough dry my hair a little, before giving up and grabbing a hair band and shoving it up into a messy, wet bun. I catch my reflection in the mirror and sigh. The dark bags under my eyes stand out in contrast to my otherwise pale skin. I look ridiculous.
I grab the clothes I’d left on the floor and quickly dress back into them before slipping back into the room to confront Adam.
“What the hell do you want?” I ask as I walk into the room. I spot Adam rooting through my wardrobe. “Get out! Don’t be so nosey!” I snap.
Adam raises his hands in surrender. “Fine, fine, woman, not much in here to see anyway.” He steps away looking around the rest of the room, before crossing the space to my bed. He jumps onto the bed, sprawling out spread eagle, shifting about as if to get comfortable. He grabs a cushion smells it, and then tucks it behind his head, propping himself up. He leans on his side with his head resting on his hand.
“Are you done?” I ask sarcastically.
“Your bed is bloody awful, I thought your merry band of men liked you? This bed is torture, I mean how do you have se—”
“Why are you here?” I cut him off.
“I’m here to collect on your debt, kitten. Well, not right now I’m not, I’m just here to make sure you’re ready for Saturday night,” he answers. He glances at my bedside table and reaches for the book that’s been left there. “Learning some more tricks?” he asks. I nod and he places the basic spell book I borrowed from Callan back down.
