He attaboy’d himself on deleting her little sneak-out session from the archives. He’d play that card with her today, how he’d already “saved” her so she’d think he was on her side. It was too bad Lach had known, but Aleron had to give the guy points for kickass sister surveillance. If Aleron had had a sister who looked like Elspeth and had no power, he’d have had her LoJacked and bugged so he knew her every move.
Her voice filtered through the wall. Naturas didn’t have enhanced senses, no more so than the automatic draw to pay attention inherent in their genetics, but Elspeth wasn’t exactly keeping her voice down.
“Yes, I’ve seen Lach, and he’s fine. He’s unchanged. I see him the most. I’d know.”
Hmm. Lying to Granddaddy? Her brother had obviously been on the Getting Worse Express.
“This guard’s not staying inside.”
Wait. She hadn’t called Seanair yesterday like she’d threatened. Why had she hesitated? Even though his gut was on high alert, since he remembered Seanair’s not-subtle warning about any complaints from her, he had to smile at her shrill tone. He’d never heard anyone get disrespectful with Seanair and live.
“Four guards are more than enough.”
The idea came to him.
Four guards were four too many.
She hated having all those guards around, and he needed her to be more agreeable to his constant presence. And, lucky him, he was in charge of her security detail for the next four weeks. Relieving all those extra guards would make his plan to take out Seanair come together much easier. No other guards around would mean no one to get suspicious. And based on what he was hearing through the wall, she’d agree in a heartbeat to having only one protector—him.
He got up, unzipped his bag, which held everything he owned, and pulled clothes from each stack. Jeans. Sweater. Undershirt. Skivs. Socks.
He grabbed his toiletry bag, walked into the small bathroom, and took a quick shower. After toweling off, he threw on his clothes and leaned toward the mirror, opting to skip his shave. Manhattan was ass-freezing cold, and his cheeks would appreciate the scruff.
Finishing up, he brushed his teeth and turned his head to get a good look at the ropey mark stretching from his ear along his jaw, ending below the corner of his mouth. At first, he’d hated the sad-ass reminder of the day his entire world went to shit. Now, the mark served as his North Star, the imperfection a continual reminder of his mission.
He drew a finger down the scar, and pain lanced through his brain like he’d been struck by lightning.
“Mother…shit,” he choked out, his head tilting back. “Not now, damn it.”
Clutching his temples, he tried to send a focused shot of heat to relax the knotted muscle threatening to cut off the blood to his head. It would be a hell of a lot easier if he could find a Fire to regen and get himself back in order.
As to the whole communing with his element to honor the Goddess, he had over a decade of spiritual neglect behind him. He had no honor. He had no gratitude for his so-called gift. Getting ultrapious and going metaphysical to become one with the Goddess was a coven thing. He could pray all day. When he completed his mission and died, She wasn’t taking his energy back. Once something spoiled, there was no recycling it.
And his elemental soul goddamn reeked.
For the moment, all he needed to focus on was getting this migraine under control before he found himself laid out on the bathroom tile.
“I’m hungry. We’re going out.” Elspeth’s voice filtered through the walls, a knock sounding at the door of the guest room.
Footsteps sounded. Keys jangled.
What the hell? She’d best not set one mussed strand of hair outside the apartment…
He bolted out of the bathroom, one hand pressed against his pounding skull, catching her as she strung a purse across her body. His gut gave a something’s-wrong wrench. He flung a precautionary wave of Fire energy and blanketed the walls, protecting them in what equated to an impenetrable oven.
He raked his gaze over her and struggled to sense why his instincts flared. Jeans. Hair shiny and straight. A smile of pure mischief pulled her unglossed mouth.
Yep. Definitely up to something.
“I’m ready.” She stopped a few feet from him and frowned. “What’s wrong?”
A couple of things. Her sweater. Red. Fuzzy. Definitely showcasing his new favorite features. So he was a tits man? Sue him. They were the ultimate ode to femininity. Warm. Weighted. If he got lucky, they filled his hands.
“Nothing.” He struggled to keep his gaze on hers. “Where are we going?”
“Nowhere yet.” Her full bottom lip slipped between her teeth. “I’ll bet my grandfather ordered you up here before you had a chance to commune.”
Point to her for nailing the problem.
“I’m fine.”
“You’re not.” She folded her arms beneath her mouthwatering breasts. “I know a Fire migraine when I see one. I’ve tended my brother’s for years. He excels on the regeneration part, not so much on the prayer.”
Hmm. He and Lach had something in common.
“Do you have any Advil, Tylenol—”
“They don’t work.” She cut her gaze to the sofa. “Go lie down, and I’ll fix it.”
He reared back, his mind going straight to sex.
“Not like that. Afraid I can’t help on the refuel.”
Shit. “I didn’t think you meant—”
“I saw the look on your face.” She glanced down toward his firming dick and met his gaze. “I’m Passive, but I know how the process works. I got Natura 101 basics in boarding school.”
Holy shit, he was fifteen again and back in Algebra II with uncontrollable hard-ons.
“I’m fine.”
“Do you make it a habit of going out when you’re not at full strength? Kinda takes the ‘elite’ out of Elite One, don’t you think?”
“I’ll take the pain relievers. They work for me.” He wasn’t about to admit she was right and that he hadn’t had a chance to stop by a pharmacy.
“I don’t have any.”
Of course not. He sighed, certain it’d be one of those days where the universe would flip him off repeatedly. Seanair’s orders had been to make Elspeth visible, which he couldn’t do standing in her apartment.
“What’s this miracle treatment you have?”
As a high-and-mighty Lennox, she probably had access to some herbal tonic he’d never heard of. As long as it worked, he didn’t care. He’d been so busy fielding Seanair’s barrage of orders, he could sit his ass in a volcano for a week and not heal the fractures in his Fire.
“Take off your boots, lie down with your head at this end.” She pointed to the longer part of the sectional.
“No—”
“Look, I know my grandfather. You arrived far earlier than I expected, which means he barely gave you time to pack a bag. I’ve seen my wickedly powerful brother brought to his knees by a so-called headache. If you’re sick, I can call Seanair and have him send someone else. I won’t let you suffer on my behalf.”
Fuck.
“Fine.”
“I’ll be right back.” She dashed into her bedroom.
Maybe she had adapted an Earth remedy, as they were always burning sage or some other bullshit. He unlaced his combat boots and stretched out along the sofa. His feet hung a few inches off the armrest so his head would lie flat on the cushion.
“This works every time for Lach, and he’s the worst. I swear he goes to the Goddess like humans go to church only on Easter and Christmas.” She set a candle on the coffee table. “Can you light it?”
Duh. He’d get his head in the game as soon as someone pulled the skewer out of his temples. He lit the wick, a task nearly automatic for someone of his strength. She went to her knees beside his head.
“What I do for Lach is I take an oil and massage it into his temples, scalp, and face. He’s back to rights pretty fast.” She acted like being close to him was no big de
al. “Lie still.”
A smartass remark sat ready behind his teeth. Something about regenning being fast and furious, maybe, but never still. He squashed the asinine thought of saying something crass to her. Last thing he needed to do was drop sexual innuendos with a Passive. A Lennox Passive.
Like he traded sexual innuendos with anyone.
“How long will it take?” He looked to the small bottle in her hand. After Seanair’s teach-him-a-lesson beatdowns in his teens, he’d sworn to never let a Lennox touch him ever again. But if he didn’t parade Elspeth around like Seanair had ordered, he would be ash on the ground.
“Fifteen minutes, maybe? Lach says the relief starts almost immediately.”
A wave of nausea hit him, and he swore his blood had drained to his feet.
“Okay.” Some woo-woo scalp massage wasn’t going to work.
She stood, grabbed a pillow off a side chair, and handed it to him. “Put this under your head. I stole this treatment from Ayurveda. What we are doesn’t completely align with their holistic healing system, but it works for Lach, so I don’t question it.”
He got comfortable, or as comfortable as he could get being this close to her.
“Close your eyes and don’t talk.”
Easy. He didn’t talk. He received orders and executed them with no chatting required. Folding his hands over his stomach, he found a tarnished silver lining when his errant, embarrassing dick backed off. Wasn’t hard getting his eyes to shut. He needed about a year of solid sleep.
Rustling sounded behind his hand. The wrench of a cork from a bottle sounded, followed by a clink on the coffee table. A soft swishing sound stopped, and then a decadent scent filled his nose.
“What is that?” He sensed the heat of her hands over his face.
“Shh. It’s sandalwood oil, vanilla, and ylang-ylang. I tried several dosha healing oil blends, but this combo works best for my brother.”
He didn’t know half of what she’d said, but the more the scent pushed into his lungs, he didn’t care.
“I’m going to do your temples first. Let me know if it’s too much.” Her fingertips settled on his skin with the barest touch, moving in gentle circles, the pressure increasing slowly when he didn’t object. “Your pulse is practically punching my fingers. I’m sorry you didn’t get a chance to prepare,” she whispered.
Her voice stroked over his senses like the gentlest rain, the pain easing a hair off of punishing. A slow huff of breath escaped his mouth. Her hands flattened against the sides of his face, holding his head, which felt like it was sinking into the couch.
“This isn’t proper.” He tried to find the strength to move.
He shouldn’t have agreed. Seanair would fry him instantly. He wanted to hate what she was doing, didn’t know how she was damn doing it either, her medicine nothing more than human quackery.
“How can easing a person’s pain be improper?” Her hands started in the same circular motion, massaging his face, her thumbs hooking inside his ears.
He wanted to tell her to stop, that he didn’t deserve this, but warmth fanned out over his scalp like she’d wrapped his head in a heating pad.
“Any better?” she whispered, and he wondered if he was dying. He’d heard stories of pain receding at the end of life, peace coming over you like a blanket so your last moments were gentle relief. Assuming you died naturally and not incinerated by a madman, as his father had.
“Yeah,” he breathed, in awe at the ribbons of agony twirling away from him. He tried to open his eyes, but it was as if his mind had fallen into a well, taking his logic and objections with it.
Her hands stroked down his face and back up. All the while, the sandalwood feathered like sweet smoke into the pain. An odd thought struck. He felt…cared for. But no one had concern for him anymore, other than him getting his job done.
She moved to his hair, her fingers in a soft curve around his skull, pressing and holding on these amazing points. The throbbing lessened, like she’d tenderly poked holes in his head so the pain could seep out like sand from a torn bag.
Soon, too soon, the soothing kneading stopped. She clasped the sides of his face, her warm palms like soft, firm pillows.
“I’m going to grab a towel to wipe up the excess oil. Focus on your breathing for a few minutes. I’ll hand you the candle, and I want you to hold it over your heart.” Her warm breath brushed the side of his face. “It’s weird, but it works. I’ll be back.”
She gave his shoulder a delicate squeeze. He cupped the candle she placed on his chest, the heat seeping deep, and swore he felt her hands on every part of him. As her soft footfalls crept away, he exhaled a harsh breath, the last claw of the headache retracting. He wasn’t sure what to do with the sting in his eyes or the sluggish, fragrant fog filling his head from those oils. Something tightened around his Fire, an Ace bandage wrap of pressure, reinforcing his splintered energy.
He hadn’t felt this whole in months. Years.
He heard her knees pop and sensed her sinking to the floor beside him again. A soft towel stroked up one side of his face and down the other. Several soft presses later, she stopped, and a tentative hand landed on his shoulder. He opened his eyes.
“Are you better now?” Her soft smile read as genuine.
“Why did you do that?” Better yet, why did he care?
She let out a small laugh. “You were in pain. How could I not help when I know how to fix the problem?”
He funneled a touch of Air toward her face to try to sense the Lennox lie. Her family helped no one but themselves. He caught a strange scent. Rose and smoke? It left, the oils overpowering anything else, his element completely…fixed. Not forever, but it was a damn solid patch.
He turned his head and watched her fold the cloth and recap the oil. Her fingers were long, elegant, her movements graceful and sure.
She turned her head, and a closemouthed smile pushed up her rosy cheeks. “Go on and say it.”
What? That he’d sign her up for nurse duty any day of the week? He didn’t know what to make of her simple, yet kind solution. Didn’t know what to make of any of the non-Lennox-y vibes she gave off.
There. He’d identified what this weirdness with her was. He’d had his first encounter with a unicorn.
“Thank you.” He closed his mouth since he didn’t trust himself not to say something he shouldn’t. Having been in the care of a gorgeous, giving woman, his gut tensed at the tender flame waving inside him.
“In a bit, if you feel up to it, we’ll go to the best restaurant in a ten-mile radius. I grew up in Savannah until I went to boarding school. Southern cooking is my favorite. Believe it or not, there’s fantastic fried chicken here.”
“Give me a few minutes.” Certain she had some hidden motive for helping him, he waited to read the intent in her exhalations, noting the thick fall of her hair over her shoulders stopping right above—nope.
Look away.
He would give her credit for not glamming herself up and wearing a two-grand outfit, like the rest of her family would, to go eat fried food. Still, liars came in all flavors.
He called back his Air energy, inhaling and tasting her desire, something she wanted with mouthwatering fervor. Chicken. How could a mobster’s granddaughter want cheap chicken? He’d bet his left nut it’d be served on china.
He caught a second thread in her exhalations, one she was trying to suppress about…Lach. Illness. Worry. And she had every right to be concerned. They would be perfect buttons for him to push, as the dude’s Natura clock was one click from midnight.
“Thank you again.” He stuffed down the flare of gratitude encouraging him to fall at her feet. “Before my headache issue, I’d planned to make you an offer, one you might like.”
“I’m listening.” She rubbed the excess oil into her hands.
“I can get rid of the other guards,” he said, lightening his tone as if he didn’t care.
She eyed him like she was trying to figure out the catch.
“Why would you do that? My marriage contract calls for more protection, not less.”
Goddess, how could she marry into a Natura family more screwed up than her own?
“Think of me as twenty guards in one.”
She pinned him with those killer green eyes. “I won’t jeopardize my arrangement with the Russians by violating a clause in the contract.”
She kept her sharp gaze locked with his, obviously measuring him.
“Your grandfather instructed me to handle the situation as I see fit. The Russians know who I am and won’t see the departure of the other guards as an issue. You’ll be safest with me and only me.”
She reached toward him, and everything slowed. Her fingertips grazed his shoulder, the brief contact feeling like he’d taken a bolt of electricity. She pulled a long brown hair from his sweater, and his heart skipped every few beats.
“Sorry. My hair goes everywhere. I vacuum every day.” A blush crept over her cheeks, and she moved away quickly.
“You don’t have a housekeeper?” He realized he hadn’t seen any household help listed in her file.
“No. I like my privacy, and it’s always been weird to me to have someone else folding my laundry. I don’t like a spotless house. I have enough pressure to be perfect everywhere else. Clutter is life.”
Well, that explained the clothes on the floor.
“Are you serious about getting rid of my other guards?” She eyed him like he had to be kidding.
“Yes.”
Human hell to the yes.
“We have a deal, then. Get rid of those guys. They’re driving me bonkers.”
Bonkers? Who still used that word?
“Give me a second, and we’ll go.” He sat up slowly and rested his forehead in his hands. Other than a bit of fogginess, he felt ready to take on the world. After a few deep breaths, he stood and moved to the front door, stepping into the hall and thanking the Goddess that Seanair had given him free rein on handling the situation. “Yeager, your team’s dismissed. Report to scheduling and have them reassign you.” The not-too-shabby Beta-level captain opened her mouth to speak, closed it, and gave a nod.
The four guards went down the hall and into the neighboring apartment.
The Call of Fire: A Natura Elementals Novel Page 7
