Department 57: Rubies of Fire

by Lynne Connolly

  For a full minute Roz said nothing but let him draw his own conclusions. Eventually the dark eyes boring into hers grew uncomfortably keen, and she glanced away. “You know who. Me. I’m working for the Gardiners as well as helping you. What did you expect?”

  He dropped his arms, leaving her standing alone. “Who else?” She’d never heard this tone before, hard and unyielding. The casual laziness of the office worker, the gentleness and passion of the lover, but not this inflexible, determined tone.

  If he was the agent he claimed, he’d be tough. This voice belonged to the real Andreas, not the one he’d let everyone in the DIB see.

  He had a few things to learn about her too. “Just me.”

  “So who is feeding Department 57 information to the DIB?”

  How had she ever thought his eyes were soft! Had she ever seen passion there? She couldn’t believe it looking at him. “I don’t know that. I swear it. We’d like to know too.”

  She couldn’t look away, however much she wanted to. His eyes held hers captive until he closed them. “I don’t want to hurt you, but I have to know. Please, Roz. What’s the problem in telling me?”

  She spun away, taking the steps to put as much distance between them as she could, folding her arms under her breasts, careful to avoid eye contact. While she knew he could read her from here, without looking at her, she went with her instinctive reaction. For more effectiveness, she should close herself to him, but she couldn’t.

  He had a point. Roz had never questioned her family before, never needed to. They’d always supported her, but she had taken an oath when she entered government service. Bill had warned her against taking it, explaining that the loyalty to her family could at times conflict with loyalty to her country, but she’d emigrated to the States after John’s death and loved it. She owed the USA a lot, and this was payback time.

  “Roz, you’re not betraying anybody. The Department looks after Talents first, the country second. That’s why so many of us aren’t full-time agents but consultants. I can feel your dilemma. I know what you’re thinking, because I’ve felt it too. So far I haven’t had to choose, but I think, soon, I might have to. This isn’t the time.”

  “How do I know? What would you do if you found a traitor in the Department? You know the law of Talents—never tell, never compel. That’s all we have to do. So what if a Talent is talking to mortals, letting our secrets go?”

  “They die.”

  She swallowed. She knew it but wondered if he did, or how seriously he took the laws. “So why are Talents working for Cristos? Who sanctioned him?”

  She could hardly believe it when a low chuckle filled the room. He was laughing!

  Whirling on her heel, she faced him directly, furious that he could take her concerns so lightly. “Cristos is mortal, isn’t he? And there’s no record of him ever getting any sanction to receive all this information. How can Talents work for him?”

  The chuckle stopped, although the smile remained, the one-sided quirk of the mouth that made her hot. Not that she should be thinking of that at a time like this. Suppressing her undeniable desire for this man, Roz forced a frown. Charm could only get him so far.

  “Roz, he’s not mortal. Just because we don’t know precisely what he is doesn’t mean he isn’t a Talent. No one has seen him shape-shift, but that doesn’t mean he’s not a shifter. No one has seen him take blood, but that doesn’t mean he doesn’t feed. Current rumor has it that he’s a Sorcerer, though he’s not a virgin Sorcerer—that I know for sure. However, some Sorcerers retain their power, and his is awesome. I’ve seen… Well, I’ve seen enough to know he isn’t mortal.”

  She frowned. “Why?”

  “Why doesn’t he say what he is? He says it’s to avoid favoritism. Cristos doesn’t want any group to have an advantage over another.” Andreas took a step toward her, but she took one back, maintaining the distance between them.

  “Let me think about this.” She swallowed, studying his face. He gazed back at her, and too late she realized he’d reinstated eye contact. But he didn’t try to probe her, only gazed at her, melancholy shading his dark eyes.

  “You’re going in undercover tomorrow. On your own. If I weren’t sure you were going to be safer there, I wouldn’t let you go.”

  A tide of fury rose in her, one she didn’t even attempt to suppress. She put her hands on her hips and pushed her chin at him. “Let me go? Fuck that, buster. I’ve been in worse situations than this, worse than you know. I lived in London in the middle of the Blitz. I’ve spent time in Korea, nursing the wounded. You think because I look like this I’m helpless? I’m a vampire in full possession of my powers. Which is more than you are!”

  He strode across the room faster than she could move and swept her into his arms. “And you’re going in during the day, when you won’t be vampire. What training do you have?”

  If she struggled, all she’d do would be to embarrass herself. His strength easily equaled hers, and probably surpassed it. “A little kickboxing and karate. Target practice.”

  “More than the standard required by the Company?” His mouth flattened again. This close she could smell him, that indefinable odor, part pine, part citrus, mixed with something else she couldn’t identify, that spelled “Andreas.” It didn’t help her concentrate.

  “Some.”

  He gripped her shoulders and pushed her away from him so he could meet her eyes. “I usually operate at night, but I’m almost as strong during the daytime. I have to be. I’ve practiced several martial arts, including karate and kung fu. I can shoot any firearm you put into my hands. I can handle explosives, fly a small plane or a chopper. In short, I’ve had proper field agent training. Many vampires hide away during the day when they’re vulnerable and use only their God-given powers. Why should they bother to do anything else? But I chose a different career, one that needs me to be on guard twenty-four hours a day. Can you say the same?” When she opened her mouth to answer, he covered her lips with one gentle finger. “No, it’s not fair for you to answer. I already know. That’s why I worry. You’re going into a place I regard as safe with a man I’d trust with my life. Forgive me, Roz. I know I have no right to care about you, but I do. I just do.”

  He removed his fingers and replaced them with his lips. Gentle at first, but when she opened her mouth, he took possession, thrusting his tongue deep into her. She accepted him, responded by stroking the side of his tongue with hers, relishing his taste.

  The madness took them both again. Dimly, she thought she shouldn’t be doing this, should be fighting harder, but she couldn’t. Her body melted under his command. He tore his mouth from hers and stared down at her, eyes glazed with passion. “Say no, Roz. I’ve just enough strength left to walk away, but only just.” His expression changed slightly, and she felt his reservation in her mind, locked together as they were. “I’ve never been this scared before.”

  “Me too.” She knew exactly how he felt. When they kissed, when they touched, nothing else mattered. If they were sworn enemies, the result would have been the same. “I’ve never let my body take over this much.”

  “Oh God!” He bent and took her mouth once more.

  Slowly they moved to the bed, unbuttoning, unzipping, caressing. She had to feel his bare flesh under her hands—she had to. The touch of the hard muscles of his chest eased the need a little, but not enough. Never enough. She started on his pants.

  She had to stop when he wanted to lift her top over her head, but her bra was no impediment to him. His sigh when he cupped her bare breasts told her he felt the same tension as she did. Roz pushed her breasts into his hands and felt the hard peaks of her nipples rub his palms. With a swift movement, he bent to take a nipple into his mouth, and the wet, hot suctioning nearly brought her to climax.

  This was wrong. She never got so hot, so fast.

  Feverishly she touched him, loving the warm, smooth flesh under her hands, broken on his chest by crisp, rough hairs. “I want you. I want you
now!”

  When she sat up, she nearly fell on the floor, just catching the edge of the bed with her bottom. She could only retain her balance by leaning back, so she did, taking him with her.

  His sudden, glorious weight on her body proved almost too much. He moved to the side, and it took her a moment to realize he was kicking off his pants, which she couldn’t strip off him. She swept her hands down his body, the hip bones jutting into her palms, then farther, where she curled her hands around his rigid erection.

  He jerked away from her nipple, leaving a momentary chill, and reached for her shoulders, straightening his body so he leaned above her. For a fraught moment they stared at each other, eyes wide, pupils open, out of control.

  “Take me inside you, Roz. Put me there.”

  His low purr, so unlike his usual musically fluid voice, undid any intentions she might have, and she led him, drew him along her wet cleft to the entrance to her body. Enthralled by the sensation, she closed her hand around his cock, moved it back and forth against her pussy. She experienced the thrill again when his flesh caressed hers, along her, teasing her rigid clit, encouraging the slow beat of her pulse to quicken, strengthen, until she thought all the blood in her body had flooded there, to dampen and aid their joining.

  She wouldn’t let him thrust hard, although he pushed impatiently against her hands. She wanted to feel every inch of him sliding deep inside her, uniting them mind, body, and spirit.

  He watched her, braced himself on his hands at either side of her head, and lifted his upper body away so he could watch as she guided him into her pussy.

  At the same time, they let out a quiet sigh as he pushed slowly deeper, until he was fully embedded in her. She drew her hands from between them, around his hips to his ass, clutching it with wet fingers. He pulled out of her and joined them again, deep and slow, watching their pubic hair mingle, sharing the vision with her because she couldn’t see as clearly as he could.

  He drew out his shaft. It emerged, glistening from their combined juices, only to slip back. Roz bit her lip as he lifted his head and looked at her.

  He was smiling. She’d seen him smile before, but never like this, a caress as intimate as anything he could have given her. “This is what we are,” he whispered. “Roz, this is special. Whatever it is, it’s special. I’m made for you.”

  She smiled back and said, in all honesty, “Nothing has felt quite like this before. What is ‘this,’ Andreas? Why are we doing this?”

  He lifted up and sank down again, and then out and in, beginning to speed up. “Don’t ask. Just enjoy.”

  It was good advice, the best she’d had all day. When he dropped to his elbows so he could take her mouth in a ravishing kiss, she pushed her lower body up into his, tilting her hips to take as much of him as she could, lifting her legs to brace her feet on the bed, the better to take him, to—

  To love him.

  She couldn’t think like that. Neither of them wanted that kind of arrangement. Sex is good. Don’t let it be more than that. Closing her eyes, she forced the unruly thought away, right behind her most secure barrier until she felt strong enough to deal with it. There was too much going on for that to happen too.

  She didn’t think he’d caught her mental acceptance of the L word, because he seemed completely absorbed by her body. As she stared at him, his eyes half-lidded with passion, she let herself sink into the purely physical sensation of making love—of screwing him, fucking him, boinking—

  “Boinking?” His eyes filled with amusement. “Call it what you want. I’m calling it making love.”

  “That’s your prerogative.”

  “Let’s see what you call it when I do—this.”

  He drove hard into her, reaching in, pushing, urging her toward a climax she only dimly perceived. Relentlessly he invaded her again, then jerked out and thrust back, quickening his pace, varying the length and depth of his strokes until the warmth spread throughout her body. Sharp electric thrills filled her until she wasn’t sure if she felt his reaction or hers, driving her hard toward a climax that sent her mindlessly soaring into unknown skies.

  Chapter Five

  The legend in Langley was that the CIA didn’t want a crackpot setup like Department 57 anywhere near its headquarters. Add to that the fact that many of the associates and consultants were foreign nationals, and the Company preferred to pretend the Department didn’t exist. The distance left both parties happy, so Department 57 remained in Manhattan.

  But the situation had changed. Someone somewhere in Langley was taking an interest in the Department. Violence against Talents had escalated. The Department was on alert.

  Consequently, Roz not only had to produce her CIA credentials to get in, but subject herself to a mind scan. “You’ll have a scan done later today for a retinal ID,” the guard told her as she passed through the narrow channel leading to the entrance. “Then you can go through that way.” With a jerk of his head, he indicated another channel through which several ordinary-looking people were passing. If it weren’t for the tingle in her nerve endings, Roz wouldn’t have given them a second glance.

  Once through the sliding glass doors, she approached the information desk. A woman sat behind a switchboard, a PC at her elbow, the screen showing a personalized screensaver of Jon Bon Jovi in his prime. Roz allowed herself a moment to enjoy the eye candy, but she didn’t have long. She passed the letter of introduction to the woman, who made a call. “Someone will be down for you directly. Please take a seat.”

  This place seemed so normal, Roz found it hard to believe that here, more Talents gathered than almost anywhere else in the world. The employees who passed her while she sat on the leather sofa looked like regular office workers, perhaps a tad better dressed than the average. Apart from that, they were the same as all the other workers who thronged the streets of New York at this time of the morning. Except for that tingle when they passed her. She closed her mind to all but superficial contact.

  “Ms. Templeton?”

  Roz blinked. A woman, average height, average build, wearing a pair of fashionably styled spectacles and a smart blue skirt suit, smiled at her. Roz didn’t think she’d ever seen anyone with such perfectly striped hair before. Red and navy blue, to be precise. “Y-yes,” she stammered, scrambling to her feet, only just remembering to take her briefcase with her. Then she had to shift it to her left hand when the woman wanted to shake hands.

  When she probed the other woman’s mind, she found this was a mortal. “I’m Diane Mortimer, Cristos’s PA. He’s waiting for you. Would you like to come this way?”

  Diane led Roz through a large office divided into cubicles in the center. The hum of light chatter filled the air, and the feeling of the place was good, harmonious. Roz knew the kind of hard work that went into making an office like that, a sympathetic atmosphere without the stress of overworked personnel. Doors ranged along the side opposite the large windows, and at the end of the long room were more doors. The tingling increased as she approached the center door of a set of three, and Diane opened it to let them both through.

  An ordinary boardroom met her gaze, a long table down the center, chairs arranged around it, bottled water and glasses in the middle. And a familiar scent coming fresh to her nostrils, a sense of coming home.

  She knew why before she saw him. Andreas, waiting by the door, dressed in silk and wool—dark red shirt and black pants, immaculately cut—looking confident, privileged, and happy. None of the assets that showed when he worked at the DIB. Only then did she realize the extent of his acting skills. This Andreas appeared perfectly comfortable in his skin, powerful and assured. She had no doubt this was the real man. He smiled and held out his hand, and when she placed her own in it, led her forward. “This is Roz Templeton, Cristos.”

  “You’re involved with her.” The voice sounded crisp and dispassionate. It belonged to a middle-aged man of around six feet in height, with clear gray-blue eyes, dressed in a breathtakingly beautiful suit of c
harcoal gray. Everything about him appeared understated, from the well-cut, short silver hair to his polished black shoes. “You weren’t expected to do that.”

  Andreas shrugged, the silk shirt molding to his shoulder muscles. “I don’t always do what what’s expected. You know that. I wanted to be here to introduce you,” he said, turning to her, his voice softening. “Just after you left this morning I realized it was important to me to be here, so I called the DIB, claiming a dentist appointment.”

  Despite her state of nervousness, Roz smiled, warmed by his concern.

  “An unnecessary risk.” Cristos’s voice held an edge of admonition. “You know she’s safe here.”

  “Yes,” Andreas said, not taking his attention away from her. “But she doesn’t know that.”

  He must have felt her nervousness that morning, even though she’d tried hard not to project it. An emotion she was used to, this fear of unknown places, but she’d never allowed it to stop her from doing what she wanted to do, what was right for her. She’d emigrated across the Atlantic Ocean alone, begun a new life determinedly independent of her British family, and she was proud of herself for overcoming her natural reticence. Every well-brought-up Victorian miss had some of it, but it was hardly suitable for the twenty-first century.

  She smiled, accepting the inevitable. “I’m fine.”

  “Since you’re here, have you a little time to spare, Andreas?” Cristos broke in. “I’m briefing the team this morning, and you may as well sit in on it. There’s some new information.”

  “Yes, I can do that. I’ll go in to the DIB after lunch.”

  She grinned, remembering his excuse. “Some extensive dental work?”

  He grinned back and allowed his perfectly shaped, perfectly white teeth to show. His fangs were retracted into their tooth-buds and not available until the nighttime. “Something like that. But Andreas the goldbrick wouldn’t hurry back to the office, would he?”

  “A dentist appointment would make him take the morning off,” she agreed.