The last thing he could afford was weakened primary powers.
“You’re my mama and my doctor tonight? I don’t need either, thanks.”
“Lach.”
He folded his arms across his CrossFit body. “I’m shutting this BS convo down on all points. I’m having plenty of sex and honing my element chi on the regular, Dr. Elspeth, but get this through your thick skull. You’re not marrying the Russian. It will not happen.”
She thanked the Goddess for the gift of the steel shell she’d developed by having two older, arrogant, stubborn-as-hell brothers. She’d also acquired a treasure trove of battle tactics. He was in a mood, so there’d be no reasoning with him. To most, Lach was a cocky, brash, temperamental bastard. On the inside, he had the heart of an artist, a man who noticed too much.
“Do you remember the night we learned I’m a null?” She launched her sneak attack past his hardened exterior, aiming straight for his innate kindness.
“Worst birthday party ever? Yep, but Mother Nature did you a solid that night.”
“Two hundred sets of eyes on me and no shooting star is not a solid. It was a shit moment, and you know it.”
The clock had chimed. Everything had gone quiet, the world either holding its breath or averting its gaze. She remembered one movement, of mouths dropping open, and the whispers that followed.
A dud? There’s some justice, she’d heard on the wind.
“I’ll admit Mother N bitch-slapped you good, but that’s the night you learned what’s important.” Lach moved the dish from his lap back to the table. “You’re brilliant, E. Smart. Funny. Kind. If our family has any hope of redeeming itself, you’ll be the one to do it. It won’t be Graham, our wannabe Bill-Nye-the-science-guy brother, or any of our misfit cousins. Ross has promise and Flora’s kickass, but Kerr’s a d-bag. Goddess help us if he grows a spine to go with his snivel.”
“There’s other benefits to this marriage.” She focused on the redemption part of his comment. “I can open a dialogue with a regime shut off from the world.” She put a hand on his ankle when he moved to sit up straighter. “Without you, I would have lost myself. The night I became a disappointment to Seanair was the night you promised me everything would be fine. Even without power, I was still a person to you. A person who mattered. I felt it in here.” She tapped a finger over her heart. “On my worst night ever, you became my backstop, the wall where every doubt I had bounced off into the dirt. I never felt second-rate, because you believed in me.” She met his reddened gaze with her watery one. “It’s my turn to be your wall.”
“The Russians are lying, maybe not straight up, but there’s a catch.” He pulled his feet toward him and crossed his legs. “I appreciate you stepping up for me. Sure as shit, no one else would, but it’s done, E. Seanair’s ticking off the days until he’ll take me out. No worries. I’ll save him the trouble.”
The truth coiled its claws around her throat. She couldn’t think about the unspeakable, about what Natura families had to do with their diseased before the person lost control of their powers.
“No. Promise me you won’t do anything without talking to me first.”
“You’re not going to be there if I have to ghost out.”
“Yes, I am. I won’t let you be alone when you—” The word wouldn’t form. She stood and moved away from him, unable to even consider his words. “All the morbid talk’s a waste. I’m going ahead with this, and there’s nothing you can do to stop me.” She grabbed a throw pillow from the other end of the couch and turned her back on Lach, holding it as a barricade against her heart.
Aleron’s black boots crept into the edge of her peripheral vision. Damn his intruding ass for being in her private business. Damn her grandfather for sending him. Damn—she would not cry. She would not.
The leather creaked, and she knew Lach was coming to her. Like he always did, figuratively or literally, ready to defend, argue, protect, or support her.
“Look at me, sis. And listen to your wise elder.” Humor forever his shield, he rested his hands on her shoulders and turned her, lowering his head to meet her gaze. “There’s no cure. If there were, Seanair would already have it, as he’d never miss an opportunity to be a savior. If he could save me, he would, but only because he wants the glory and I’m useful to him. He’s about to lose one of the best hammers in his supernatural mob boss toolbox.”
Lach’s official role was in business development for Seanair’s investment firm. She understood he had a darker role, but he wouldn’t speak to the rumors, and quite frankly, she didn’t believe them. How could a man who produced paintings that she loved so much she’d adorned her walls with them possibly be an assassin for their grandfather?
“Seanair’s not warm and fuzzy with his words, but he loves you.” Maybe she cut their grandfather too much slack, but she remembered the old Seanair, before his beloved wife, Mathair, passed. “I’ve seen the Russians’ data. Our scientists are encouraged.”
“Are the researchers encouraged by actual science or because Seanair’s encouraged their encouragement?” He pulled away, jamming his fists on his hips. “Has Graham seen the data?”
Graham. Superscientist. Terrible brother.
“I don’t know, but getting him involved is a good idea. Seanair wouldn’t lie about something like this.” She mirrored Lach’s battle pose.
“E, our grandfather’s a professional liar. He’s made sure you only see his less-bad side. I shouldn’t have sheltered you from who he really is.” Lach’s eyes flared blood red, and he backed away from her, putting the sofa between them. “The only reason he hasn’t killed me yet is because of you, which is maybe why I didn’t tell you the bad things. When you’re around Seanair, he has non-asshole moments, and I remember when I was a twinkle in his eye, rather than a problem.”
She bit her lip and blinked hard. Lach was the only one who didn’t treat her as someone powerless and, worse, invisible. Kindred’s clients dealt with her because they had to, not because she gave each union the same attentive care and detail as she would her own wedding. She’d sought to prove herself worthy of her people by using her brain and organizational skills, by insisting each couple go through counseling before they walked down the aisle, by showing them power wasn’t every damn thing.
She was Lach’s only chance, his last option, and she would per-fucking-sist until she found a cure.
“It’s my decision, not yours.” She locked her gaze with his. “I’m marrying into the Burkov clan, and there’s jack all you can do about it.”
“Listen up, Ms. Jack All.” Lach braced his hands on the sofa back. “The Burkovs are dangerous. You’re not even going to meet them.”
Wrong. She was meeting them in three weeks. The wedding was coming up too quickly for an engagement party, so Ross had already preplanned a couple’s shower complete with exclusive coverage by The New York Times.
Sauna-like heat wrapped around her.
“Don’t you dare melt my sofa.” Changing tactics, she placed a hand over her belly, focusing on one of two things Lach couldn’t resist. “Being a power amplifier’s a Passive’s only advantage, and I’m using it. My fertility’s not guaranteed past thirty, and I want children. Lots of them.”
Lach loved babies second only to his spoiled-rotten English bulldog.
“There’s so much wrong with what you just said. Shame on you for wielding tiny Naturas against me. No man’s good enough for you, and I’m not going to be around to teach your little tater tots everything they need to survive.” A breeze ruffled the magazines on the coffee table. “Listen hard. Seanair’s up to his usual tricks, and I can hear him cackling from here. This is all about him. Not me—or you. Even Graham will back me up on this one. Better get your trunk packed for the convent, Sister, ’cause the humans’ Jesus has a cold bed and bad clothes waiting for you.”
Irritation skittered over her like fleeing ants. Lach was so damned, nerve-frying stubborn.
“You were there for me when no
one else was, and I’ll be there for you.” She’d show him nothing but strength. “You aren’t dying. Not if I can do something about it. I sit around, day after day, arranging everyone else’s happily-ever-afters, and I’m giving you a shot at yours. It’s done, and you can’t undo it, so you might as well go huff and puff somewhere else.”
Lach cocked a brow, but she caught the sheen of a drying tear on his cheek.
“Great idea. I’ll go tell the big, bad Grandpa Wolf this marriage gig ain’t happening.”
She shrugged. “Go ahead. He’s the one who arranged it.”
“Well, he didn’t consult with me.”
“Because he knew you wouldn’t go for it, and he knows you need that treatment to survive. We don’t want to lose you, Lach.”
His gaze softened. “Again, for little sisters who don’t listen: I. Am. Fine. And lucky for you, I always get my way, so cancel the wedding-dress shopping.”
His dismissal of his disease and what she was trying to do meant one thing: He was getting worse.
“You’ll get married one day because you love the guy.” He held up his hands. “Assuming I approve of him, of course. Actually, the convent’s the perfect place for you until then.”
Her gaze snagged on several faint lines spreading from his wrists to his palms. “What’s that?” She moved toward him.
“Tattoos. I’m just getting started.”
“You don’t have tattoos.”
“How do you know? Private parts are private.”
She didn’t buy his attempted shutdown. Lach feared one thing—needles. There wasn’t enough liquor in Manhattan to get him into a tattoo parlor, but black and vine-like scrolls marked his palms, almost like henna work.
“Gotta run. Asses to kick. Names to take.” He headed out.
She let him go, watching the door close. A sense of rightness came over her. Maybe she was exactly where she was supposed to be, powerless but yet…powerful.
If she could save Lach, she didn’t need Earth, Air, Water, or Fire.
She closed her eyes and thanked the Goddess for giving her…nothing.
Nothing but unbreakable determination.
Aleron held Elspeth’s gaze as she stormed toward him, her gaze full of fury. “Not a word.” She held up a shaking finger. “My family’s private business needs to stay private.”
She clipped his elbow as she blew past him and slammed her bedroom door.
Holy. Shit.
His Fire crackled and shoved against his skin, wanting O-U-T. He’d need hours to pry his teeth apart after grinding down the overwhelming desire to melt Elspeth’s dickhead brother into a sticky red puddle. Lach was everything Aleron expected from a Lennox. And killing him would save Aleron some grief down the road.
He suspected Seanair would be ordering said death soon enough.
Sheer wrongness had poured from Lach’s body. His element energy had been deformed into some weird hybrid Aleron had never felt before, his powers in a knot, bouncing around in a shockingly organized jumble of energy that indicated he still had control. Single and Dual Naturas were the norm. But added to Lach’s dominant Fire and Air energies was a trickle of Water. That third element caused an imbalance in his powers that Lach would eventually be unable to manage.
Unfortunately, Aleron sensed Elspeth’s brother didn’t have long before dementia began to knock. Most families handled such situations before they became a problem, and so far death had been the only solution. Lach being a Lennox complicated matters, though, but at least an Elite One unit monitored his every move.
Which was the only reason he was still alive.
Still, Aleron’s main goal was to gain Elspeth’s trust. Promising to keep her secrets could score him some much-needed points. Besides, he’d already done her a solid. When he’d gotten the report on her sneaking out with the Fukada woman, he’d logged in to the Elite database and expunged the violation before the daily report had gone out to Seanair.
The fewer guards, the better, and Miss Goody Bedhead’s new rebellious streak would have earned her a security battalion. Ah, being one of Seanair’s top Dobermans certainly had its privileges.
He heard her soft sniffles through the wall, and a weird feeling crept over him. When Lach had blazed in, he’d expected drama like in the soap operas his mother used to watch. Without power, Elspeth didn’t emit emotion he could read, but Lach? Dead man walking or not, the dude had some fierce love for his sister. Take-a-bullet love.
And fuck, what Elspeth was giving up? She clearly had no idea what she’d agreed to and didn’t seem to care. Lach was all she saw, and he sure as hell hadn’t expected that kind of sacrifice and commitment from a Lennox.
He scrubbed a hand up his face, needing some sleep and some answers. The Irish getting their knickers in a knot wasn’t good. With the pending Russian alliance, certain Natura families would be gunning for Elspeth, and they wouldn’t be filing formal grievances. The Russians would be here soon, too, which would bring another unknown into this snowballing clusterfuck.
Goddess, he hated surprises, and having to deal with Lach was a bad one. Aleron was going to have a talk with his new charge, as her brother was a danger she couldn’t afford, and one he didn’t want to waste time on.
But one thing was clear.
Lach couldn’t escape his fate, and if he didn’t take himself out, he’d eventually turn on his loving sister without remorse, when the dementia transformed him into a conscienceless, violent monster that destroyed everything in his path.
Aleron leaned against the headboard in Elspeth’s guest room, letting his head thunk against the wall, and savored the thrill coursing through him. After she’d slammed her bedroom door yesterday afternoon and not come out, he’d plastered the walls, doors, and windows with Fire energy, sealing the apartment from elemental intrusion, and ordered in the best damned spaghetti he’d ever had. He’d nodded off sometime after midnight.
He checked the clock beside the bed. Eight a.m.
Holding out a hand, he turned it over, freeing the victory burning inside him. Threads of orange arced and raced between his fingers. The wedding bells were faint, and Seanair wasn’t dead yet, but he’d gotten his foot in the first door—literally—and he was still in her apartment. Energy crackled over his hand.
Elspeth hadn’t tossed him out or had him removed.
He’d won round one.
But damn, what a hard sell. He’d had to put his Fire on lockdown and persuade her. He didn’t negotiate. Didn’t make deals. He didn’t need to. He was an enforcer and, when necessary, an assassin. Whatever got the job done. He gave orders. And people followed them.
Or they got their asses fried.
He retracted his Fire energy, the light and heat reabsorbing into his skin, and looked around the room. Comfy bed. Nice furniture. Cool mirror above the dresser. Not a palace by any stretch, but sterile compared to her bedroom. Clothes on the floor. Empty water bottles on the bedside table. Browned flowers in a vase beside the bottles. He’d expected an extension of Seanair’s pristine palace.
Elspeth Lennox was one helluva surprise.
Chicks like her wore pricey, silky things to bed, not ratty, threadbare sweats. Goddess, she seemed clueless to the ramifications of marrying into a Russian dynasty. She probably didn’t know the French had fired off a letter of protest about the wedding, and the word coming out of the Ukraine? Well, they wouldn’t be sending a scathing email containing their feelings on the Lennox family’s alliance with the Russians.
There’d been chatter among his other connections. A lot worse waited out there, especially from those who didn’t advertise their plans on the internet.
Something was off about Elspeth, though. Something he didn’t like.
She…derailed him, made him hesitate, had him considering something he’d never have, like dreaming of buying a Lamborghini when all you could afford was a beat-up Honda.
So she was beautiful? He also liked the way she came back at him, how she didn’t
take his shit. It’d been a long time since he’d heard back talk, and coming out of her pouty pink mouth…
Goddess. The next month was gonna be ball-chafing rather than tingling.
His gaze shifted to the bedroom door, his stare taking him back to the moment yesterday when he’d seen her for the first time. He’d…faltered. Not on the outside. Hell no. Inside, though, he’d been jabbed, his instinct elbowed with a strange heads-up vibe he’d never experienced.
A warning, but not necessarily bad.
The worst part had been her eyes, the color he’d forever label as irritated green. A shade he hoped to see again, not on the diva he’d expected, but on the mussed-up bombshell with a glare that clocked him right in the common sense.
He grabbed his phone from the bedside table and pulled up her picture and thought to…what?
She couldn’t recharge him, and sex was his sole interaction with women. Best be straight with himself and call his side glances what they were—pent-up lust. He needed to get laid, get his element recharged, and focus on what mattered.
Which was keeping Elspeth Lennox nice and safe until he tossed her into the arms of her Russian groom and got on with his real mission.
He checked the Elite One app to see what had been cooking while he was out. He read the daily report. Read it again. Fourteen Airs had been eliminated for spawning a tornado in Arkansas, an entire family wiped out by Elite Two. Promotions expected.
Holy shit. His heart damn near gave out. He hadn’t even been gone twenty-four hours, and Seanair had settled another score. No trial either. Just the judgment of one person and the sentence handled brutally. Another reason their leader had to go.
The Call of Fire: A Natura Elementals Novel Page 6
