Ashes

by Sophie H. Morgan

  Her threat went unspoken as he dipped his head to bite the nipple through layers of cloth.

  At the same time, the hand that had gripped her hip shoved down the top of her pants to flick her clit. A quick catch in her breath, a flash of red across the insides of her eyelids.

  As his fingers swirled and dipped, pressing and releasing, her flames spiked in edgy frustration. Everything inside coiled to the point of pain. “Cade.”

  His thumb pushed hard against her clit as two fingers thrust inside her. Lightning spears of pleasure threatened to flood her, overwhelm her. Her hands shot out, claws extended as she grabbed on to the one solid thing in the room and cried out her release. Can’t hold it. Flames erupted over her body, rejoicing in their freedom, a phoenix in full fire. His shout of surprise was drowned by the hiss and licking crackle of her fire.

  Collapsing on him, panting, weak, embarrassed, she managed the strength to yank the flames back inside her before they could set the bed alight. Heat arrowed to her core, prompting another pleasurable burst.

  She felt Cade’s shuddering laugh vibrate against her cheek. “Hair trigger.” He inhaled, his cock pulsing beneath her like steel. “Fiery.”

  “Burned?” she managed.

  She felt his head shake, heart battering against her. “Not even singed,” he reassured her.

  Bliss cradled her in silken arms as she closed her eyes, surrendering to the glory of remembered orgasm. He laid her down on the bed, a boneless doll he could position on the hard mattress. He brushed a kiss over her left eyebrow, fingering the iron studs in her ear. “When I get back.”

  It was a steel threat wrapped in a promise that had her quivering, even as she drifted off.

  Cade shuddered, trying to gather the tattered shreds of his control as he moved through the same hidden passageway. This time, he meant to stay hidden, see if he could learn anything new from the high ruler’s own lips.

  Yet thoughts of Alana’s hot cries, how she’d let go of her hardened street persona and became a woman in his arms, consumed him. They had for the entire hour it’d taken him to travel on foot from the Outer Boundary to the crystal palace

  He again fought the urge to return and finish what every pulse of his heart demanded. His hand clutched at the damp wall as he stalked the passage.

  Those flames of hers at the end…

  He’d lied to Alana when she asked if he was burned. He was, branded by a phoenix who had no clue of her effect on him. As for the fire that had erupted over her body when she’d reached her pleasure, it hadn’t singed a hair on him. He’d felt the heat, the burn, but it had heightened his own desires, a line of fine pain balanced with pleasure. He had to admire her control; it must have been like holding on to a melting stick of butter, stopping the fire from burning him.

  His animal snarled as Cade twisted to the right, using its vision to guide him down the passage. He watched a rat scuttle over the concrete flagstones. The jackal didn’t understand why the human had stopped, was a bundle of urges and drives.

  Over a woman, but not just any.

  Alana. He’d loved her. As much as it was possible to love somebody, he’d adored her when they were young. It’d torn something inside him when he finally comprehended the cavern between them, that her parents, her people, maybe even Alana herself would never accept him, a common shifter, for a royal consort. Although he’d been out of his mind with grief when she disappeared, part of him had thought it for the best. Even then, Cade doubted he’d have been able to leave her behind like he’d threatened to. And he’d have inevitably failed her if she’d stayed.

  Fast forward ten years. She’d changed. She bore almost no similarity to the girl who had giggled and teased him, begged for archery practice and chick flicks with paprika popcorn. The one with hair the color of cinnamon and apricot and scarlet down to her waist, the girl who’d kissed him the night of her eighteenth. The young woman walking back from her parents’ chambers with silent tears tracking down her cheeks.

  The woman she’d become was more likely to kick him in the jewels than stare with adoration. More likely to snap at him, burn him, curse, than giggle and brush out her long hair at night. Yet he feared he might be falling over that cliff a second time.

  She’d become more than he’d ever imagined. A strong, sexy woman able to make her own decisions, face down any challenge, match wits with a merc. A partner, not a girl. Somebody who made him feel alive.

  No matter his feelings on her life in the Maze, her experiences had shaped her. They’d make her that much more empathetic when she took the throne. When he convinced her to go, once Liberty was through. Leaving him behind.

  It pierced something deep, a place that hadn’t felt pain in ten years. He paused in his pursuit, leaning heavily on the damp wall. He ignored the chill that seeped through his sweater, passing a hand through his hair.

  Who was he kidding? He was the son of a murderer. A failure of a protector. A Blade. There was nothing he could give a woman.

  Ignoring the snarls and grumbles of his animal, Cade pushed off the wall and began to walk. There was no point in dwelling on the inevitable. He had to focus on what could be addressed—whether or not Edward was the man Gabriel had described. The man who had ordered the kidnapping of children and forced them to endure unimaginable horror—and for what? The possibility of enhancing the human race? He knew Edward wanted the best for humans as a whole, but this was so…extreme.

  He couldn’t deny that Gabriel’s tale had moved him, or that its electrifying effect might be due to the fact that it had been scarily similar to that of his own family. The power-hungry father who tricked and lured in jackals to form a pack. The violence that inevitably followed whenever anyone wanted to change the status quo. Cade’s failure. Not good enough.

  Cade swatted the past like an annoying bug, determined to unearth the truth once and for all. Drifting with supernatural silence, he moved toward the ten-centimeter-square window that looked out on Edward’s private library through a two-way mirror. His eyebrows winged upward. Inside were Edward and his twin sons.

  The room was as richly furnished as the high ruler’s office, with a deep emerald for the walls and white accents at both the ceiling and skirting boards. Real pine furniture towered over the humans, bookshelves and armoires containing priceless bric-a-brac. A rug shipped from the Divided States stretched the width and breadth of the room, covering genuine wooden floorboards.

  Edward stood at one of the bay windows, hands linked behind him, a navy velvet smoking jacket and tweed trousers completing the image of a man at leisure.

  “Any developments,” he was saying, his back to his sons, “should be brought directly to me.”

  Gable, the blond twin, stood at attention by one of the deep armchairs arranged around the rug. His tall, broad body was locked in place as he kept his chin angled up, apology crossing his handsome features. Edward’s trademark beak of nose had skipped Gable, the prince instead graced with a fine patrician nose handed down from his deceased mother—and there was tell that wasn’t the only thing he’d inherited.

  As Alana had said, the twins were rumored to have inherited certain powers from their nymph genes, though as far as the Blades had discerned, no proof substantiated the claims. Gable’s mossy eyes and angular jaw had crossed from father to son, however, completing a face called pretty more often than his brother’s.

  “Sorry, Father,” he apologized. “You were in a meeting with the Chair. We didn’t want to disturb you.”

  “Excuses.” Edward’s mild tone was an accusation.

  Garrett, the twin who most resembled his father, and the elder by two minutes, spoke, his voice an indolent purr. “Well, you know now.”

  Sprawled in an armchair, arm spread over the top, he was the essence of princely idleness. The image of his father, including beak, except for eyes that glowed a nymph blue. Brown hair, likened
to dark chocolate by more than one admirer, spilled down his back, as though he’d scarcely risen from a woman’s bed. From the reports circling around the Upper Ring, that could well be the case.

  Edward turned, scowling. His mouth was drawn tighter than a charity’s purse. “Not that it changes anything.” He hissed a curse. “That damned rebel is a thorn in my side. Another site’s been taken, a couple of days after the last. How is she doing it? For God’s sake, we’re the ones who’re supposed to have a mole, not her.”

  A chill chased down Cade’s spine. Hold.

  “Her people seem to be everywhere,” Gable said. “We’ve triple-checked security. If there were any leaks, we should have ferreted them out by now.”

  “Maybe she has ears in the walls,” Garrett drawled, a lazy smile curving his lips. His fingers danced on the chair’s material.

  Edward sent his son a withering glare. “However she’s doing it, it has to stop. The Circle wants the research by the end of this month—which I promised in good faith.” He threw up a hand, beginning to pace across the richly textured rug. “If we don’t provide a working formula before the end of this quarter, I hope you’re ready to rule, Garrett.”

  The Circle again. Cade’s eyes narrowed.

  His son was unmoved by the dramatic statement, only Gable reacting with a horrified frown. His hand twitched as if in denial. “Don’t say that, Father.”

  “It’s true. We should face it—if Shade doesn’t bring that bitch to me, I’m as good as dead. Every time she destroys research, we lose valuable time to perfect the formula—and we’re so close. But the Circle have made the deadline clear. They’re committed to improving the lives of humans, as I am, and if I stand in their way, they won’t hesitate to cut me out.”

  A chill sank deep into Cade’s bones at the mention of formulas, crushing his jackal’s growl while it shifted, unsure.

  “Shade.” Garrett snorted, shifting in his chair. The ring on his thumb glinted. “I could track Liberty down myself and settle things.”

  “Her identity is unknown. Christ, our mole doesn’t even know who she is, merely her inner circle. What makes you think you could discover it?”

  “It’s funny how people squeal under pressure.” Garrett smiled. “Bring in the demon or the swordmaster human—even the redhead who likes to play with matches. Apply some pain. They’ll soon break.”

  Cade’s breath stilled at the mention of Alana. Even if they didn’t know her true identity, they knew of her, and that was too close for his comfort. Though, thank holy fire, at least they didn’t suspect her of being a phoenix. For now, anyway. She needed to stop before they did.

  “I presume Shade knows what he’s doing,” Gable was pointing out. “Father hired him for a reason.”

  “And what reason is that? Oh, of course. It’s a secret.” Garrett scoffed. “Goody-two-shoes Gable would never dare question his father. On anything.”

  “It’s called loyalty.”

  “It’s called being a jackass.” Garrett inspected his manicured nails. “What was with the visit this morning, asking why he’d want her killed? Fuck’s sake, Gable. Use your brain.”

  Edward’s forehead creased. “Princes,” he reprimanded with a voice stiffer than a sheet of titanium, “don’t use common language.”

  His son’s response was to roll his eyes.

  “Still, Father, I suppose Garrett has a point.” Gable rubbed his nape, where his blond hair was tied neatly in a queue. “With another lab down, should we sit around and wait for the merc? Surely it would be twice as productive to send out another?” When Edward appeared to hesitate, Gable pressed on. “If the Circle wants a finished DNA sample, we need to push through, but we can’t do that if we’re constantly disrupted.”

  “We’re practically there. I myself know this for fact.”

  Lies. It had all been lies. He’d been a blind fool, exactly as Alana had said. How could he have been so stupid?

  And that was what this was for? Power? Evening the species’ score?

  “You once told me to cover all bases, no matter how small the worry. Send out another to grab one of their group.” Gable’s tone was soft, pleading.

  Garrett snorted.

  Edward squeezed his hand into a fist that trembled. Cade scented the rich copper tang of blood with confusion. Edward had broken skin. “Gable, you do well to remind me what is at stake. It is not only my pride on the line here, but the fate of the human race. This is bigger than me. Choose someone you trust to smoke out a Liberty follower. One way or another, we’re finishing it. Her and her little rebellion.”

  “It’s so nice how you’ve got the people’s interests at heart,” Garrett mocked.

  “Son, when you get to be as old as I am, maybe you too will see with the clarity of mind that I have. Humans have been trodden on for too long. We are at the mercy of every supernatural creature that walks this earth, weak. Feeble,” Edward spat the word as if it were diseased. “Once I’m able to splice Other DNA and inject it into our genes, ‘human’ will no longer mean the weakest race. Evolution is not limited to the Others. We will rise, a power to be reckoned with.”

  “My eyes are tearing up.” Garrett’s drawl was bland.

  Gable ignored him. “We should have a Liberty follower within the next twenty-four hours.”

  Edward nodded. He walked toward the window again, as if drawn by the sight of all that he possessed. “Don’t alert the Prosecution squad. If Liberty wants blood, then that’s what she’ll get.”

  Gable inclined his head. A flurry of white sparks lit the area around his body. When they cleared, the prince had disappeared from the room. Cade disregarded the confirmation of nymph power, focusing on what was important. Edward.

  “Ever the good son, blindly following orders.” Garrett lazily climbed to his feet. “Let me know when you need someone interrogated.”

  “At least Gable is helping to make history, furthering our chances for survival against any Other invasion. Evolving us until we can—”

  “Jeez, enough with the speechifying. It gets old real fast.”

  “Your brother cares what happens to us—and me. The Circle will kill me if Liberty is not captured, Garrett. Don’t you care at all?”

  Garrett snorted a laugh. “Not half as much as I worry about those injections you pump into your system. Yeah, I know,” he said to Edward’s dawning fury. “That shit’s not to be messed with.”

  “I don’t need lecturing by an adolescent child.”

  “Fine.” Garrett jerked a shoulder. “Do whatever you want. But you’re crazed if you think pushing Other poison into your veins is going to get you into the history books. It’s already making you lose what marbles you had left.”

  “What do you know?” Edward shook his head. “You care nothing for anybody but yourself. I’m ashamed to call you son.”

  Garrett’s lips twisted into a sneer. “Fuck me, I’m wounded. Excuse me while I go weep in some beauty’s arms to numb the pain. Good luck with the Hoods.” He flipped the bird at his seething father before sauntering out of the room.

  “Goddamn it.” Edward’s fist lashed out and smashed an antique Ming vase to shards of porcelain. The table it had sat on wobbled from the force of the blow. Firelight glinted off pieces scattered on the rug.

  Cade withdrew from the window, jaw locked until his teeth ground against each other. His claws drew blood from his palms, while his jackal pulsed with hot, violent energy.

  With a silent growl, Cade reached out and scratched claws along the stone walls. The high-pitched grating echoed down the passageway.

  Little did Edward know he’d invited in a force more brutal than a merc. A Blade was going hunting. And when he delivered news of Edward’s treason to the Treaty, no place on this divided earth would be big enough to hide.

  Chapter Sixteen

  “Well, well. If it
isn’t Sleeping Beauty.”

  Ana woke instantly, striking out with her legs. She followed up with her elbow, shock shifting to pleasure as it was captured in a strong hold.

  Familiar gold eyes regarded her, relief lurking in their depths. Trick’s voice, when he spoke, was amused. “Resting?”

  Jerking out of his grip, Ana punched him on the arm. Love and joy flashed through her, emotion that made fire sing through her veins. A noise from the doorway drew her attention.

  Faer lolled in the entrance of the bedroom, a sword resting on the back of his neck. Pleasure at the sight made tears sting her eyes, so she went with what she knew. She scowled.

  “You dicks,” she announced. “Took you long enough.”

  “Such gratitude.”

  “Save it for a damsel in distress.” Ana grabbed Trick around the neck. “C’mere, fang boy.”

  Ignoring his sound of distaste, Ana squeezed him in a hug. His familiar scent wafted to her nose, and she drew it up. Spices and sin. Home.

  Releasing him, she looked across at Faer. “You gonna jump me if I hug you?”

  “Never say never.” He waggled his eyebrows as he set his sword aside. He gestured at her with both hands.

  Snorting, she bounded off the bed and strode across the room. Beefy hands landed on her hips, hauling her into a hug. A humming sound left him. “Damn, girl,” he complained. “You left me with a pissed-off vampire.” He rumbled at her, a demon’s version of a growl. “Don’t be doin’ that again.”

  Trick ignored the insult, doing a sweep of Ana’s body when Faer dropped her to her feet. “You good?”

  A light question, but it thrummed with concern.

  She nodded.

  “How the fuck did he take you, Ana?” Faer demanded. He inspected the room, touching on the wrinkled covers of the bed, the armchair, the one window. He sniffed, wrinkling his nose. “Smells like shifter.”

  Ana ran her tongue around her teeth, hoping that was all Faer could smell. When she glanced at Trick, his eyebrows inched up.