Win No. 2!
He poked his head back into the apartment. The warmth in his head disintegrated the last of the migraine’s haze. “Let’s go.”
She pulled on a purple puffer coat, locked the door, and turned. Noticing the missing security team, she gave him a wide-open-sky smile. “They left?”
“People do what I say.”
“I’m sensing that.” She stepped closer to him than anyone ever dared and placed a hand on his upper arm. “I’m glad you’re better. It hurts me when I see the Alphas suffer so harshly. I have a Water friend who gets terrible nausea, and I haven’t figured out how to help her with that yet. Why do the Betas not experience pain?”
“In the Natura class, Betas are less powerful than Alphas, so my guess is they’re less subject to these types of maladies. Since the power levels are less with each step down in the coven class, I’ve never heard of Gamma- or Delta-level people suffering from mild ills. It’s not a big deal. We don’t have human disease issues to worry about, so I’ll take a headache over diabetes or cancer.”
A satisfied smile brightened her expression. “It’s nice you mention the coven class. We’re all Naturas, but try telling that to my grandfather. I’ve never understood this whole everyone-stays-in-their-lane thing or utilizing the witches and warlocks as housekeepers or in some kind of servant role.”
He agreed and felt her reply. Kind of. Warmth spread up his arm, the sensation tingly, soft. His Fire element responded, pushing and nudging against his skin like a pet wanting to nuzzle its owner. He pulled back at the familiarity, noting the way his energy reacted like it knew her.
“We’d better get going. I’m hungry.” His mouth watered, and not just for Southern cooking.
“You’re going to love this place, I promise.”
Something stirred inside him. Something he hadn’t felt in a long time. He’d made her happy, if only for a little while. Her life was about to be nothing but shit, and he didn’t care, really, but he had a sense of what the hell? It wouldn’t cost him anything, and in the end, his greatest wish would be fulfilled. If he made her smile? Maybe the Goddess would make his blaze-of-glory death painless.
She pushed the button for the elevator. They stepped inside, and in the silent ride down, he memorized her scent, her voice, and the way she moved and baked everything about her into his element’s memory, setting her up in his senses like a passcode on an alarm.
They crossed the lobby, and two Air bellmen opened the double doors leading to the street. He reminded himself to keep his power in check. Other than Elspeth and Lach, the entire building housed humans. He stood beside her at the curb while the doorman hailed a cab.
She looked up and gave him another blinding smile. “I’m warning you now, I’m not hiding in this apartment anymore. Today, we’ll do lunch, and I need to stop by my office in Hell’s Kitchen.” She put a hand on his arm, touching him again like they were old friends. “You have no idea how much I appreciate it just being you and me. My other guards never spoke to me, and I…well, you’re different. I’m sorry about yesterday. I misjudged you, right down to your element.” Her smile shifted from sunny to sly. “What’d you call Earths? Dirt diggers? I’ve heard Fires called hot plates, mug warmers, camp lanterns, Bic flicks. I can’t remember them all.”
“Bic flicks?” That insult was new. Of course, no one disrespected him. Ever. Still, her pretty pink mouth stirred up some fluttery, flickery shit in his dick. When a taxi arrived, he let her slide over before joining her.
The cab pulled away. She scanned the street like she was memorizing it, and her reduced attention made him aware his energy levels were still lower than he liked, despite the magic of her froufrou oils.
Maybe tonight while she was asleep, he’d coat the apartment walls in a Fire cage and arrange a recharge somewhere in the building. The lobby bathrooms would work. A janitor’s closet. A stairwell. Wherever.
Ten minutes and multiple blocks later, the cab stopped at a red light. Aleron did another scan, got elemental crickets, and found himself grateful for the silence. The more she talked, the more he saw her as someone different. A non-Lennox. Which was purely delusional.
Sure, she’d relieved a headache, a bad one even, but seeing her as anything but a pawn was dangerous. He hadn’t counted on the collateral damage being a kind, beautiful unicorn, but she had Seanair to thank for her fate.
Best thing he could do was eat, run her errand, and get her back home. Where he could stop all this she’s-different bullshit and shore up his plan to kill her grandfather at her wedding.
The cab pulled up in front of a West Village building that needed a facelift twenty years ago. Aleron reached inside his jacket for his wallet, but Elspeth was already handing two twenties through the partition. He wondered why he had attempted to pay. He was responsible for paying for…well, nothing. Seanair was the money man, so what was with him acting like he should pay, let alone do anything other than play bodyguard?
He did a quick scan before she got out, and he followed her onto the curb.
“You tipped ten bucks on a thirty-dollar fare?” he questioned, noting how the sea of people on the sidewalk parted, the usual steer-clear effect of his six-five height. He motioned her beneath the awning and grabbed the door handle before she could.
She walked into the dive called Down Home and looked over her shoulder. “I like to recognize people who work hard and let them know I see and appreciate their efforts. I know how it feels when you’re not.”
Lennoxes didn’t pay anything forward. They paid themselves.
His stomach growled as he stood behind her at the wait stand. The place was packed already, likely due to the deep-fried aroma. With his Elite One role taking him all over the world, he hadn’t smelled home-cooking this mouthwatering since high school. An older woman showed them to a table in the corner, and he took the seat facing the door.
She fanned her face and pulled off her coat, hanging it on the back of her chair. “I’m surprised I’m so warm. It’s below freezing today, and normally goose down’s not enough to keep out the chill. Must be this place.” Taking a deep, appreciative inhale, she sat down, her expression melancholy. “I’ll probably miss this restaurant most. By the way, this is only the first stop on my Goodbye, Manhattan Tour. Prepare to eat out a lot.”
If every place on her bucket list was like this one, maybe he wouldn’t mind a few weeks’ delay in his revenge.
He cut a glance at her, and his curiosity got the better of him.
“So why the Russians? I can’t see Yuri Burkov taking you out for grits and greens. He prefers champagne and superyachts to fried food and checkered tablecloths.” He gestured toward their small table.
“That’s easy. They have a treatment that stops the progression of the tripowered disease. When I get married, Lach gets the treatment, which gives him time until I can find a cure.”
“Hate to tell you, but there’s nothing easy with the Russians. Any so-called treatment might be poison more than cure.” He leaned toward her as she shook her head in disagreement. “I’m not kidding.”
“You aren’t the first person to warn me, but it’s the only option left, and I’m taking it.”
A waitress breezed by and left two iced teas on the table.
“You’ve seen evidence of this treatment?” He picked two sugar packets from the container between the salt and pepper.
“You sound just like my best friend.” She held out a hand. “Try the tea first. It’s already sweet.” She took a sip from her glass, and a pleased smile tugged at her pretty mouth. “I’ve seen the data. All their patients are still alive years after their first protocol.”
Yeah, but data was only as good as the inputs, and the Russians were master manipulators.
“Be careful. Even if you think you’re doing the right thing to try to save your family, it can go sideways.” Goddess, did he know that.
Her hand slid across the table, settling over his like an old friend’s. “A
re you speaking from experience?” Her gaze cut to his jaw. “Is that how you got that scar, trying to save someone in your family?”
“I don’t like to talk about it.” Especially not with her. “Besides, the scars you see aren’t always the worst. I don’t want this thing to blow up in your face. You’re…too kind to have something bad happen to you.”
She was too a lot of things.
He wanted to ask more but didn’t want to risk souring her growing trust with his nagging doubt. The Russians were hand grenades with the pins half out. Seanair understood the regime better than anyone, so Aleron’s question was, what was Seanair getting in trade for his granddaughter?
“Listen…” He had to take control of this convo. “No more trips to Freddy’s. I pulled the info about the other night off of Seanair’s daily report. I’m guessing he doesn’t know, since the violation’s not in the Elite One database, and it doesn’t seem that Lach will say anything.”
“Thank you, but…why would you help me like that?”
He could give her some truth. “Freddy’s a straight shooter. No BS happens on his watch. Plus, rosewater lightning’s damn good.”
Card played. He probably ought to tell her that swill would fuck her straight up if she drank more than two. But there’d be no more secret outings to Freddy’s.
A different waitress pulled up beside their table with a notepad and pen ready. “What’ll you have?”
“You’re the expert.” He deferred to Elspeth on the ordering.
She started in with a few questions about the specials. His attention snagged on another waitress, this one carrying a massive tray loaded with steaming food. His mouth watered as his senses went on full alert to bacon, bread, and…wait. Was that a lemony something?
“We won’t go hungry.” She gave a nod of thanks to the waitress, who finished scribbling down their order as she walked away.
“So, this place reminds you of Savannah? The Deep South’s a far cry from New York.”
“Especially the cold. I’ve been here since after boarding school, and I never get used to it.” She took a saltine and swiped it with butter. “My best friend, Kazumi, hates the cold worse than I do.”
“Water element and daughter of the Water Magnus?”
She took a drink of tea and tipped the glass at him. “Very good.”
“I wasn’t going to mention it, but your file is pretty light on friends and confidants.”
She gave him a sardonic look. “You’re surprised? Besides the obvious with the breeding of powerful children, a Passive’s of little use to most Alphas, so the majority of Naturas don’t acknowledge I exist.”
“You’re a Lennox.”
“Right. My name and superbabies are my only redeeming qualities.”
“I didn’t mean it that way.”
“What did you mean?”
“Well, you’re nice, and you seem fun, and you’re attractive, so I’m sure you date.”
And you cured my goddamned headache like a nurse boss.
Laughter poured from her. She sat forward, and her hair fell in a long, brown curtain, shielding her face.
“What’s so funny?” Unease crawled up his neck at the light, airy feeling inside him.
“Your intel is terrible. Sure, I can get laid if I want to, but I want someone who’ll actually see me not as a means to an end, but as a person with feelings and needs and dreams.” Her smile faded. “Well, I did want that, once upon a time.” She pulled a small menu from beside the napkin holder. “You should check out the desserts. I always get lemon meringue pie, but I hear their pecan is great.”
“You like lemon?” He recalled the last dessert his mother had made him. Lemon cake with lemon glaze.
“Lemons are Mother Nature’s finest creation, best served, well…any way. I love lemons. In fact, after Lach’s visit, I’m out of lemon candy.” She flagged down a waitress. “Can I borrow your pen?”
The woman put a ballpoint on the table and kept going.
Elspeth picked it up and wrote lemon drops on the inside of her wrist.
“You know, most people text themselves. Or use a notes app.”
“Habit. I started this in grade school and can’t quit. Seanair gave me a task one time, and I didn’t have a notepad with me. I forgot, and he was so disappointed in me. His censure nearly killed me.”
His hand shook with the urge to punch Seanair right in his damn mouth. Aleron reveled in the anger and welcomed the sensation overtaking the calm he’d learned—the hard way—to cultivate. He’d long ago shoved down his feelings and focused on facts and goals and the plans to achieve them.
“I love lemon too.” He ignored the strange balm soothing his irritation.
Her long hair spilled over her shoulders, two beautiful brown swaths framing the deep V of her sweater. Fine. She had great tits. Round, ripe, just-right globes he wasn’t going to get to handle. Had to be the only reasons he spent half a second considering her no-friends sob story and her lemon love. He’d expected a cheekbones-contoured, collagen-filled, dressed-to-the-nines diva. So, she was different. BFD.
Unfortunately, the curl of satisfaction inside him at her no-boyfriend situation wouldn’t flatten. She didn’t date. Or if she did, it was the rare, lucky punk who didn’t act like a rich douche. He didn’t think she was a virgin, but the idea of her underneath some pompous, undeserving asshat ignited something in him he couldn’t ignore.
Why did he even entertain anything about her other than how she figured into his goal? He certainly didn’t care about anyone anymore. His mother had disowned him. His brothers had likely forgotten him. He sure as fuck didn’t give half a shit about a Lennox.
For today, he had to bank his primal fury and pretend to be at ease. He couldn’t risk tipping Elspeth off. Not when he was so close.
A waiter put a huge tray on a stand in the aisle, steam curling from every bowl of butter-bathed or grease-coated vegetables.
“I catch a hint of a Southern accent sometimes,” Elspeth said. “Where are you from?” She eyed the fried chicken, green beans with bacon, fried okra, creamed corn, and biscuits bigger than her fist.
“Louisiana. Small town.” His stomach growled, aching for the feast to begin.
Conscripted into service at eighteen, he hadn’t been on a date since high school. He chanced a glance at her while the waiter placed the bowls on their table and decided he liked how it felt to have a conversation. An odd thought, for sure. He didn’t talk to people. He executed orders, picked up payments, laid down Seanair’s law, and didn’t get chatty doing it.
She smiled like she was happy with the food and the place.
And him.
It was hard to admit he had a spark of respect for a Lennox, but with her, it was hard not to.
“I’m still surprised I don’t know you. I know all the Alpha-level families.” She picked up a spoon and scooped a little of everything onto her plate, handing him the utensil so he could help himself.
“Alpha-level powers don’t always translate into Alpha money. My family’s working class.”
She huffed a laugh. “My grandfather isn’t known for altruism, so if you’re in his elite group, it’s because you’re powerful and he asked for your help.”
Fire energy crackled beneath his skin.
“He didn’t ask. I volunteered.” He picked up his fork. The metal heated, and he tamped down his temper before the tines could glow hot.
“How generous and loyal of you. I’m glad Seanair sent you and not another one of his stone-faced pillars who answer me with clipped replies. I know it’s not their job to be friendly, but you act normal around me.” She leaned across the table toward him. “It’s nice.”
She sat back and smiled, the move so easy and right, like they were old friends.
“It’ll probably be the quietest job you’ve ever had. I don’t have a chef or a butler like the rest of my family. I don’t want a Beta Natura serving me or a poor witch or warlock making my coffee or cleaning my
toilet.”
“You have something against the coven classes?” He rested the spoon in the green beans and started in on a biscuit.
“No. I think the way they’re treated is shitty. They don’t have innate power, but they’re still Naturas. I don’t have innate power either, but I get a hall pass and am considered Natura because I can amplify an Alpha’s power at conception and birth superbabies.” She dug into the creamed corn on her plate. “If I could change anything about who we are, I’d give the coven classes equal seats at the governing table and eliminate all the class crap between the Alphas and Betas. I’d get rid of the arranged-marriage part of Kindred, too, and focus on archiving births, deaths, and marriages.”
“I’m not sure your grandfather would support your grand plans. His position’s clear on the witches and warlocks.”
“He calls me his little idealist and dismisses me. None of those things will ever happen, but I let the ideas guide how I treat people.”
Fine. He’d gotten her completely wrong. The Lennox Passive was an anomaly in more than just power.
He stabbed his fork into a small hill of green beans just as it hit him. Power. Buzzing by like an angry bee. His Fire flared across the table like a camera flash.
“Is something wrong?” She set down her tea glass.
Upon their arrival, he’d scanned a ten-block radius and left traces of Fire marking the perimeter to trip any trespassers. He checked again, verifying someone crossed his Great Wall of Fire line but retreated.
“We’re good.” He forked the beans into his mouth and held them on his tongue, savoring the salt and bacon flavoring.
He went in for another bite and the sensation hit. Pressure. Subtle and slow. Like the walls were creeping in. He whipped out a swath of power, scanning the room, searching for the source. Nothing. No Naturas for blocks. What the hell?
“What’s with the scowl?” Her brow furrowed, a smile curling her mouth. “It’s okay to admit you’re enjoying yourself. I won’t tell.”
He scanned the immediate area. Sending out his Fire energy with a force that would clock a Natura good if they were in range.
The Call of Fire: A Natura Elementals Novel Page 8
