Which was fine. She couldn’t take any more.
Egan made it into the lobby right as the elevator chime rang. Aleron about-faced and filled her doorway, his back to her.
“I’ll notify Ms. Lennox you’re here,” Egan announced, his voice louder than usual.
“I’ll see myself in,” came a cool, Russian-accented voice. “You may remain in the lobby,” he said, likely to his guard detail.
She couldn’t make out the exact movement outside the door, but the frigid current coming from Aleron contradicted his brash Fire nature. A figure moved in front of him, but she couldn’t see much around the mountain that was her protector.
“Out of my way,” the same voice said.
“Ms. Lennox receives announced visitors only. You’ll have to make an appointment.”
“Let him in, Aleron.” She recognized Yuri’s power play and didn’t have the energy for a big showdown.
“As you wish.” He backed into the room and reassumed his militaristic stance in front of the credenza opposite her desk. Sparks scattered up her arms and down her body, the sensation powerful, but tempered.
She made a show of looking at her watch, hoping she could see the energy she faintly felt. No light or color covered her arms, but the same smoke scent smoldered in her senses, a reminder that, even now, he still protected her.
She shoved the terrible truth of his father’s death into the darkest corners of her mind and donned her well-used, don’t-fuck-with-me armor.
The man who walked in glided with smooth purpose toward her. His blond hair was swept back like it’d been styled by the wind on the bow of his yacht. She’d seen a dozen photos of his megawatt smile and figured them staged and the perfect use of tabloid space. He did know how to dress, though. His slacks, shirt, and cashmere coat in gray tones fit him like the finest of gloves. The leather of his black shoes appeared butter soft. Underneath all the finery, intelligence flourished in the depths of his forest-green eyes. The man was nothing short of gorgeous.
His gaze ran over her, and his smile pulled tight. “That’s a beautiful sweater. It matches your eyes.”
“Thank you.” She forced herself not to check, but she was pretty sure she’d worn a fuzzy acrylic sweater with her black jeans and knee-high boots.
“I opted to dispense with the formalities and meet you first privately.” Yuri came around the desk like he had a right to crash her personal space.
“If your lead-in is to buck tradition and show my grandfather who’s boss, I’ll warn you it’s not wise to poke the tiger.”
“Agreed, but that depends on who you think the tiger is.” He extended a hand. “Yuri Burkov.”
“Elspeth Lennox.” She returned his firm grip with one of her own.
“I like that my future wife speaks her mind.” He brought her hand to his mouth. “It’s a pleasure to meet you, Elspeth Lennox. You’re even lovelier than your photographs. If all our children look like you, my people will want as many heirs as we can give them.”
Really? Serving arrogance and sex as appetizers was not going to get him the entrée.
“Let’s get married before we start talking about consummation.”
Yuri blinked, caught off-guard. “Of course, though you can forgive me for being eager to be with my future wife when she is as beautiful and intelligent as you.”
She took her hand back and gave him a tight smile. “You should know I’m not one for flattery. While I’m being honest, it would have been best if you’d given me notice you were coming.”
His keen eyes pinned her, trying to read her. “But then I wouldn’t have had the chance for a candid conversation with you. Our every move is scripted, and I was determined to have one moment not on a spreadsheet. Just between us.”
“Then you shouldn’t have been born a prince.”
She couldn’t stop a quick glance at Aleron. Just us? Was Aleron invisible to this man?
Her stomach soured with realization. To Yuri, a guard wasn’t a person. Wasn’t worthy of notice.
She started to speak but saw Aleron quickly shake his head, so she switched her attention back to Yuri.
“Would you like to sit?” she managed, waving toward her office chairs.
“No. I have something for you.” He pulled a box from the interior of his jacket. “I’m sorry I did not get here sooner to give you this.”
He opened the lid to reveal a diamond the size of the damn moon.
Her hands shook, her eyes glued to the ring so she wouldn’t look at Aleron.
She couldn’t do this.
She had to do this.
Her stomach knotted, and her heart squeezed.
Yuri took the ring from the box and reached for her left hand, gingerly sliding the wide platinum band down her finger.
Breathe. Breathe.
She gave a quick glance to Aleron and saw the blue rings around his irises. Wishing telepathy was real, she bit her lip, wanting to tell him she didn’t want Yuri. She wanted him, only him. The moment stretched, all the brief, incredible moments she’d had with Aleron crashing together in a crushing wave.
She forced out her next words. “It’s beautiful.”
And horrible. And devastating. And soul-breaking.
“I’m delighted you like it.”
I hate it.
“The stone’s been in my family a long time,” Yuri continued. “If you like precious stones, you’re marrying the right Earth.” He held her hand gently and brushed his thumb over her knuckles. “Now that we’ve made it official, I do need to rush off and go poke a tiger.”
He gave her a smile she assumed was supposed to be playful, inviting.
Keep breathing.
“Until this weekend, then,” she managed, her body numb.
“May I kiss you?” His gaze searched her face, a knowing tilt at the corners of his mouth.
“Not yet.” She held up a hand. “I’m not ready. I wasn’t prepared for this.”
It was clear he wasn’t pleased, but he hid it behind a polite nod. “Until the festivities tomorrow, then.”
He turned and strode into the lobby, Aleron following.
She dropped into her chair, wondering if her brain and soul were still in her body.
Her new life would start soon. Sooner than she’d planned.
As the ache in her chest diminished, leaving a black hole of nothingness in its wake, a chill came over her, and she wasn’t sure how she’d survive the bitter cold of Saint Petersburg.
Aleron stood beside the stone column in the Plaza’s Palm Court atrium, the violins’ high, vibrant notes carrying over the hundred or so guests. The music should be soothing, and yet it made him itch.
Memories of his dad coming home after an especially hard day at “work” assailed him. His body would be tense, his eyes haunted. The boy hadn’t known his father’s true job or what his duty had cost him, but he’d watched his mother hold his dad. Talk to him. Take him to their room. When they’d come out, his dad would be less torn and battered. Not healed exactly, but able to hold it together.
He understood now.
He’d had that moment of haunting in the alley, worse than any dark assignment he’d ever completed. And he’d had an instant of being held and feeling stitched back together in Elspeth’s apartment.
Watching her with Yuri was like he’d been split open from neck to gut with a dull sword. And his beautiful, emerald-eyed Florence Nightingale couldn’t make things better this time.
She’d cured him. Healed him. And he knew now she’d relieved more than a mere migraine.
When the Russian slipped that ring on Elspeth’s finger, it had been a slow slice on his soul. A stinging, burning, brutal assault. A broiling agony rekindled every time he glanced at her, the fantasy of her with him aflame.
He tugged at his collar and lowered his body temperature so he wouldn’t sweat up his expensive assassin-wear. The fine fabric of his sweater scratched, the Italian loafers’ leather rubbed, and his worsted-wool slack
s chafed. He kept his bodyguard-on-duty expression extra bland, but he wasn’t sure how long he could look at her standing beside that Russian douche.
Shooting a punk-playboy smile at one of the guests, Yuri placed a hand on the small of Elspeth’s back, and Aleron’s Fire reared up. He’d never lost control and didn’t know what to make of his element seemingly flipping him off and firing up shit that couldn’t happen.
He looked away and raked his gaze over the guests. Most of the well-wishers were older, the women decked out in sophisticated suits, expensive jewelry, a few in hats. The men appeared bored, at a couple’s shower because they had to be, all stuffed shirts and stoic and getting their late afternoon scotch on.
Elspeth was nothing like them. Her hair was down, draping in easy waves over her shoulders. She’d worn green again, the green that lit up her eyes like jewels, and little makeup. She was classically beautiful, stunning when she smiled, but incredibly adept at camouflaging her lovely soul.
I’m used to you missing the mark.
Seanair’s cutting comment at the gala crisped inside him like burnt toast.
His pulse thumped, fueling fury at her grandfather’s cruelty. He had no idea how Seanair could view her as anything but smart, resourceful, and resilient. She’d taken her lack of power and brushed it aside, like energy meant nothing, and focused on her family. Loved them. Was sacrificing everything for Lach.
Missed the mark?
Yeah, when Aleron got that bastard into the chapel where he would let his defenses down, he’d be missing zero marks. Seanair had a bull’s-eye on him that Aleron would nail with a firebolt.
He scanned the room, but his eyes kept going back to her. He zeroed in on the Earth d-bag trying to loop a finger through hers and forced his expression to remain bland when she deftly avoided his touch and sipped her champagne. A monster more ferocious than revenge reared up, ready to rip that Russian to shreds and barbecue the pieces.
Standing in the quiet front corner beside one of the massive potted palms, he could admit he wanted her. He couldn’t have her, but that didn’t mean he’d ever stop hungering for her. He’d like to say his thoughts were gentlemanly, but why lie? A part of him did ease when he was with her. Other parts wanted to claim her. Pick her up, take her away, and keep her for himself. He looked down at the nine-hundred-dollar loafers Seanair insisted on for some weird-ass dress code he called smart. Smart bodyguard? Smart assassin? Another reason the man had to die.
His gaze came around to her again as she served up the same combo to another congratulatory guest—the halfhearted laugh, the pseudosmile, and the slow blink.
And there went another slice of his willpower. More than a sliver this time. And a truth so potent and fiery he put a hand on the massive marble column to steady himself.
She could be the one, the great love his father had told him to strive for.
His forever.
His Fire blazed inside him, pushing against him, wanting out. Elspeth couldn’t do jack for his element, but the fool energy gave zero fucks. Best to admit he’d hopelessly, brilliantly, forever burn for her and dream of what could have been between them.
But he’d play the game today. The one where he tried to look everywhere but at her.
And fail.
“Easy-B.” Kazumi popped out from behind the plant.
Half Gallon. Exactly the person he did not want to see.
“Did you hear ol’ Astruxy’s back? The ground split open fifteen minutes ago in the middle of Harlem.” She tipped up her champagne glass.
He’d known that thing wasn’t done.
His Elite One associates had better get on that shit and fast. “Is anyone hurt?”
“Not as far as we know. Lucky for us, everyone knows about the 125th Street Fault, so our people at the US Geological Survey are calling the incident an earthquake.”
Aleron scrubbed a hand up his forehead. “The energy’s sloppy and desperate. Let’s hope we don’t run out of believable explanations.”
“Let’s hope Elite One destroys the thing soon.”
“Yeah.” A raucous laugh in the corner interrupted his thoughts.
Seanair. Entertaining a small group of Russian VIPs near the fountain. The old tyrant wouldn’t be laughing for much longer. His gaze hopped to another contingent of Russians walking up to congratulate Elspeth and Yuri.
“Are you going to roast him like a chicken or blacken him like a fish? I can’t decide if those eyes of yours are set on slight sear or extra crispy.”
“Not too bright of you to talk about killing a future king within earshot of other loyal subjects.”
“If you don’t have the firepower, I could drown him in his bodily fluids, but that whole Water submersion tactic is so…unoriginal. I’m thinking death by invisible undertow. Harnessing the energy of tide pulls is a fine Water art.” She glanced sideways at him. “Deep down, I’m an artist.”
He glared at the saucy little Water who downed the rest of her champagne. No way was he engaging in this conversation. There were too many Airs in the room who might sense his ass-kicking vibes.
“The bar’s right there.” He nodded toward the trellised stand anchoring the center of the open area.
The last thing he needed was for Seanair to catch him chatting up the incorrigible Water.
She pointed at her wrist. “You can act like you don’t like me, but the little bracelets we share say you’re my pal.”
“We have a pact we will soon sever.”
“We have BFF potential.”
“We have a mutual enemy.”
“Enemies plural, Easy-Bake. I’m no fan of Seanair, and I can feel your extreme dissatisfaction with two men in this room. I share your sentiment.”
“Seanair was right about you.”
“That list should be short.”
“You are incorrigible.”
“That’s his nicest word for me. That old fogy hates me because he can’t touch me. Elementwise, my mother’s as powerful as he is, and that’s a total ball-scraper for him.”
He funneled his Air energy toward her to check her sincerity. The bitter stench of her exhale clocked him right below the ribs. Holy shit, his little smartass Water ally hated Seanair. Hated Yuri. Hated everything about the whole couple’s shindig and didn’t even try to hide her disdain. He got a whiff of all kinds of Water-borne catastrophes she longed to inflict on the Plaza’s Palm Court.
He glanced down at his surprisingly destructive ally. “I don’t want to think about that man’s balls, but if you’re into that kind of thing, go for it. I would tone down the hate, though. There’s a lot of windbags in here, and you never know who’s sniffing around.”
Laughter and the clamor of conversation filled the area. Clinks of champagne flutes. Servers carrying silver trays filled with hors d’oeuvres circulated around the open atrium. His gaze went back to Elspeth. The guests wouldn’t see it, but he knew her now, knew her smiles and expressions. She had one hand folded across her stomach while the other held on to a flute like it would fly away.
Kazumi nudged him. “Advice taken, but, dude, you keep looking at her like that, and people will suspect you’ve done more than guard her body.”
He wasn’t sure what happened. If a vein popped in his head. If the connection between his mouth and brain severed. Or if something mowed down his self-preservation.
“I have to figure out how to get to Russia. She’ll need me over there.”
Kazumi whipped around and faced him. “Holy shit. That’s what I’ve been sensing but couldn’t place the emotion. That’s not protection. You care. For her.”
He should deny it and back waaaay up from that assertion. But he’d underestimated Kazumi’s observational skills, and Goddess help him, he was tired of his two-faced life.
“She’s a great person. She’s kind and loyal and beautiful.” He stopped there, afraid he wouldn’t be able to if another word slipped out of his mouth.
Kazumi’s eyes narrowed. “She doesn’t
put up with your bullshit either, does she?”
No, she didn’t. But he wasn’t going to stand there and wax on about something that couldn’t happen.
“It doesn’t really matter what I want, or what any Natura wants. Our lives are set, yours included, but I can protect her. I’ll do everything in my power to see that she’s safe.”
And how’s that gonna work? You’re gonna kill her grandfather at her wedding, survive the hell storm of power that’ll rain down on your ass, and then jet to Russia to play bodyguard?
Yep. He’d fried his last brain cell.
“You’re perfect for her.” Kazumi nudged him again.
“Maybe you should slow down on the alcohol. You’ve clearly already had too much.”
He checked his watch. Five minutes to go, and he’d scan the entry and exit points again. Other than human pickpockets, this part of Manhattan didn’t see too much trouble, but he didn’t want the Central Park pond ending up in the lobby if that Astrux decided to cruise to the Upper East Side.
The Jaws theme blasted from Kazumi’s purse, and she shoved the champagne flute into Aleron’s hand, scrambling to answer the call.
“Hey, Mom. Wait. What? Slow down.” Kazumi put her back to him, plugged a finger in her ear, and hunched to better hear the call. “You’re sure? Yep. I’m on my way.”
She turned and fumbled to get her phone put away. “Where are they going next?” She looked to Elspeth and back to him.
He didn’t give details to anyone, but the stark expression on Kazumi’s face had him offering up the truth.
“They have a private dinner with Seanair. I’ll know the location soon and send the reservation information.”
When Seanair dined out, he made reservations at several restaurants, deciding at the last minute which one to keep so that his location remained unknown.
Kazumi’s hand clamped around his wrist. “Once you know, text me, and I’ll meet you.”
“What’s going on?” He discreetly pulled from her grasp as Seanair’s cool gaze hit him. “Is there some kind of problem?” He gave his boss a nod before resuming his slow perusal of the room.
The Call of Fire: A Natura Elementals Novel Page 17
