Anew: Book Two: Hunted

by Litton, Josie

  My companions may see a more complex situation than I am capable of appreciating but that doesn’t change the essential truth that I refuse to deny any longer.

  “This is wrong,” I say, gesturing to our exquisite surroundings and beyond--the park, the city, the world of excess and indulgence that presses in on me with claustrophobic intensity. “Profoundly wrong. Something has to change. The status quo isn’t just deeply unjust, it’s also dangerous. However fearful people may be, when their survival hangs in the balance and even their children are threatened, I have to believe that they will act. The only uncertainty is when and how. That and how many will die in the process.”

  A glance goes around the table. I sense a silent understanding that eludes me. “Another time,” Edward says softly. “Another place.” He isn’t reprimanding me, only reminding me that the setting calls for discretion. I flush, suddenly feeling very young but knowing that he is right.

  The conversation moves on to less sensitive topics. I try to be attentive to it but my dark thoughts about the world in which I find myself entwine with my vivid awareness of Ian. I can’t help wondering where he stands. He possesses enormous power but if it really came down to it, which side would he choose--the privileged elite to which he undeniably belongs or the masses of ordinary people for whom he seems to have at least some empathy?

  I can’t answer that question. The man who has taken me to the heights of ecstasy and the depths of despair is still very much a stranger to me. That thought leaves me subdued through the rest of supper. When the dancing resumes, my body feels unaccountably heavy. I go through the motions as I did before but they require far more effort. My face hurts with the strain of smiling. I’m feeling trapped when an all-too-familiar presence suddenly appears.

  Charles Davos gives my current dance partner a chill smile and jerks his head slightly in a gesture of dismissal. The young man--who presumably comes from an affluent, powerful family--doesn’t hesitate. He steps aside at once, in effect handing me over to Davos.

  Before I can get over my own shock at his sudden appearance, I am in the arms of the silver-haired, seventyish patrician who is rumored to control the city council and a great deal more. Despite his age, he is tall and fit, the result no doubt of every longevity enhancement that money can buy.

  My instinct is to wrench myself free and walk away. But if I do that, I’ll draw unwanted attention. Stymied, I remain as I am.

  “Forgive me,” Davos says. He looks well aware of my predicament and amused by it. “I couldn’t bear watching you stumbling about with yet another hapless swain. I really don’t know what ails young men these days. They are sadly lacking in both style and substance.”

  He is holding me in a perfectly proper fashion, one hand resting lightly on my waist and the other clasping my own. His skin is cool and dry. He smells of citrus but underneath that is a musky, oily scent that makes me recoil. His yellow-green eyes have an almost reptilian cast. I am truly ill at ease around Charles Davos, not in the least because he had an unhealthy fascination with Susannah that he seems to be transferring to me.

  Above all, I’m afraid he knows that I have something to hide. He may even have an inkling of what it is.

  I glance over his shoulder, looking for Ian or Edward. Neither of them would approve of my dancing with Davos but they are both absent from the ballroom at that moment. Perhaps it’s just as well that I handle this myself.

  “What do you want?” I ask. The question is too blunt for our gracious surroundings but I’m past caring. I just want to be done with him.

  Davos raises a brow. “You’re very direct, my dear. I can accept that…for now. I want to do you a favor. If you’re as smart as I think you are, you’ll be grateful.”

  The thought of owing Charles Davos anything makes my skin crawl. “I neither need nor want any favors from you.”

  Unperturbed, he says, “You should be careful about your dealings with Ian Slade.”

  I stumble a step. Ian and I have attended many of the same social events but we’ve almost never been seen together in public except as part of a larger group. Davos can’t possibly know what happened between us at the estate or later in the city--at the opera house, the polo club, the gallery at Pinnacle House. All those times and places that I absolutely must not think of right now.

  “I’m friends with Helene and Marianne Slade,” I say, proud that my voice is rock steady. “But I’m scarcely acquainted with Ian.”

  Davos smiles. “That’s very good. If I didn’t know better, I could almost believe you. Susannah was a remarkable young woman in so many ways but sadly that didn’t prevent her from succumbing to Slade. I would hate to see you make the same mistake, especially under the circumstances.”

  Despite myself, I rise to the bait. “What do you mean?”

  He shrugs. “Ian has always walked a very fine line where the law is concerned. I’m sorry to say that recently he’s crossed it. He will have to be held accountable for his actions. No one can be allowed to operate as a power unto himself. That simply isn’t good for society.”

  “Accountable to whom?” The moment I ask, I know I’ve made a mistake. I’ve tacitly acknowledged that there is something Ian could account for, at least if he was so inclined.

  “And for what?” I add hastily. “What are you claiming that he’s done?”

  “Besides lead his private army against civilians who had not been charged with any crime, take them prisoner, and interrogate them himself using who-knows-what barbaric methods? Make no mistake, such actions will not be tolerated.”

  I struggle to conceal my shock. To the best of my knowledge, only a handful of people know about Ian’s involvement in the destruction of the HPF. How does Davos?

  He draws me a little closer. “I would hate to see you caught up in the official reaction to Slade’s disregard for the rule of law. You have a chance for a wonderful life here but that won’t be the case if you are linked to him.”

  The anger I experienced earlier returns in force. How dare the likes of Charles Davos claim that being associated with a man of Ian’s courage and honor could harm anyone? He isn’t fit to wipe the mud off Ian’s boots.

  I’m about to tell him so and the consequences be damned when my breath catches. Ian has returned to the ball room and seen us. He is crossing the dance floor on a missile-like trajectory. Anyone who doesn’t get out of his way is in danger of being flattened. The rage on his face makes me quake even as I know full well that I’m not the target of it.

  Chapter Six

  Ian

  “Get the fuck away from her.”

  I don’t even try to keep my voice down. All I can think of is ripping Davos’ hands off Amelia and hurtling him against the nearest wall. Dimly, I’m aware of the shocked looks of the couples around us. They’ve stopped dancing and are either standing frozen in place staring or--the smarter among them-- prudently backing away. All I really see is Amelia’s white, strained face. She knows perfectly well that I’m revealing to anyone with eyes to see how involved we are. I just can’t bring myself to care.

  Being with Amelia, holding her, hearing her voice has me on a kind of high that I can’t really understand and sure as hell can’t control. Worse yet, I don’t even regret it. For a guy whose kept such a strict rein on his emotions for years, I’m a mess. Anger, worry, arousal and a bizarre giddy happiness are at war in me.

  By forcing my hand, Davos has done me a favor in a weird way, although he’d be enraged if he realized it. Thanks to him, I’m doing what I’ve wanted most even as I’ve moved heaven and earth to avoid admitting it. I’m claiming Amelia as my own and the world be damned. I’ll deal with the consequences later.

  The look that flits across Davos’ face confirms that his stratagem in approaching Amelia has worked. Any doubts he had about the nature of her relationship with me have been answered once and for all. If he puts that together with the fate of the replica-hating HPF and draws the correct conclusions, we’ll have a real p
roblem. But at the moment, I can’t give a shit. Let the whole world know how I feel about her. I’m not the only danger to Amelia, far from it. If I can hold the others at bay by making it clear that she’s mine, then that’s exactly what I’ll do.

  “Just as I suspected,” Davos says with a sneer. “You haven’t changed at all, Slade. You’re still a savage.”

  Ordinarily, I’d never consider striking a seventy year-old man but Davos is in a league all his own. He has been ever since I encountered him at the club my father ran. Some of the men had to be drawn in slowly, perverted step by step. Not Davos. He took to it all like the proverbial duck to water, the sick bastard.

  But he’s gotten as much from me as he’s going to get. I take Amelia’s arm and draw her away. To my great relief, she doesn’t resist. I wouldn’t have blamed her if she did. Yet I can’t forget how she felt in my arms a few hours ago, the fear that consumed me when I thought she might be ill and my relief that she isn’t. Right alongside all that is the passion she unleashes in me, making a mockery of the self-control I’ve practiced for so long that I was arrogant enough to think it had become second nature. Now I know better.

  I should find Edward and leave her with him. Walk away and don’t look back. But every fiber of my being rejects even the thought of that. Without moving, I watch as Davos vacates the dance floor, oozing arrogance with every step.

  The music pauses, then begins again, a slow, languorous melody with sultry undertones from a sax that coil through the air and settle deep down inside me. I can feel the warmth of her body so close to mine. My gaze drifts to the swell of her breasts, rising and falling with each breath she takes. From the first moment I saw her, I’ve desired Amelia with an intensity that I’ve never experienced with any other woman. Even at our most intimate moments, when I’ve been deep inside her, pouring my life into her, my need for her has never eased. But it has changed, becoming as much emotional as physical in a way that frankly scares the shit out of me.

  I raise my eyes and meet her gaze, seeing in it a depth of longing that I don’t deserve but can’t resist.

  Hell, with all the damage I’ve just done, what’s a little more? “Dance with me,” I say.

  She doesn’t hesitate but instead flows into my arms as though they’re the one place where she belongs. The realization is humbling even as it troubles me deeply. This woman is a lot of things, all of them remarkable, but she definitely comes up short on self-preservation. I thought that she’d accepted once and for all that I’m bad for her but now I’m wondering if I’m wrong.

  As relieved as I am that she’s got a full measure of free will and then some, I’m not totally sold on how stubborn she can be. When she gets that steely look in her eyes--

  “Davos knows that you’re behind what happened to the HPF. He claims that you’re going to be held to account for it.”

  All I want to do is sink myself into her and-- “What’s that?” I ask belatedly.

  She shoots me a chiding glare that, heaven help me, makes my cock twitch. But then so does everything about her.

  “Davos. You. HPF. Government. Trouble.”

  “Oh, right, that. Don’t worry about it.”

  “How can I not?” she demands. “You did it because of me and now--” Her voice trembles. She looks truly concerned. For me.

  My throat tightens. With an effort, I say, “Amelia, Davos is bluffing. He doesn’t know anything, at least not for certain. He’s just trying to frighten you. The government is glad to have the HPF eliminated without getting their own hands dirty. They’re not going to question who did it. Even if they were inclined to do so, they’re not going to pick a fight with me.”

  I’m not bragging, although it could be taken that way. The men and the few women who run the government--really run it unlike the puppets who front for them--don’t care about anything except their own well-being. Some of them shelter behind the notion that what’s good for them is ultimately good for everyone. I can only laugh at their vanity and arrogance. Others, the ones I consider more dangerous, have an even more self-centered vision of how the country and the world should be. Anything done to make that vision real is fine with them. They’re a classic case of the ends justifying the means. Tangling with me is a complication they don’t want. On the contrary, I know full well that they still hope to co-opt me to their side.

  Amelia tilts her head back and looks at me directly. “Why is that, Ian? What reason would the government have to fear you?”

  I shrug, partly because I’m uncomfortable with the question but mainly because I don’t really know the answer. Not yet. My gut says that the time is coming when I’ll have to make a choice. But for the moment, I duck the issue, saying only, “The government is happy enough to use defense companies like mine when they want to avoid public accountability. If they’re waking up to the fact that there’s a downside to so much power being concentrated in private hands, that’s their problem.”

  “But they could still come after you,” she insists. “They’re hardly without their own resources and they can be influenced, can’t they? By someone like Davos, for instance. He isn’t making any secret of how much he dislikes you.”

  I choose my next words carefully, wanting to make her understand but also wanting to put an end to the subject.

  “The authorities won’t come after me just because of Davos. It would take a whole lot more than that. I haven’t sought a direct confrontation with them and they have every reason not to do so with me.”

  Without giving her a chance to respond, I draw her closer, inhaling her scent. The effect almost pushes me over the edge. If we weren’t in the middle of a crowded dance floor--

  Not trusting myself with that line of thought, I look around for any distraction and stumble across the most obvious one.

  “Nice diamonds,” I say.

  She flushes a little and shrugs. “I don’t think anyone has seen past them all night.”

  She’s serious, which has me shaking my head if only inwardly. Amelia is the least vain woman I’ve ever known. In a very real sense and despite everything we’ve shared, she truly doesn’t understand the effect she has on me.

  Or on other men, yet another thought that I don’t want to entertain just now.

  We sway to the slow, sensual throb of the music. I forget about Davos, the HPF, all of it and just concentrate on the pleasure of holding her. I’m wondering why we didn’t do this before, back at the estate or since. Too busy having mind-blowing sex, I guess. But there’s something to be said for just being like this, surrounded by other people but still alone together in our own bubble.

  It doesn’t last, of course. Nothing that good ever does. Too soon, I catch sight of Edward. We left the floor at the same time so that I could update him on arrangements to deal with any possible threat that could arise this evening. Davos must have been watching and seized his opportunity to go after Amelia. I won’t repeat that mistake. The bastard’s never getting anywhere near her again.

  Edward’s talking with Marianne. No surprise there. Our mother is standing nearby, smiling. She’s well aware of my sister’s interest in my old pal and apparently approves. I’m not there yet but I’m getting closer.

  “She cares for him, you know,” Amelia says softly. Her gaze has followed my own but I’m looking at her now and I see the wistfulness in her eyes. It puzzles me. Why would the sight of her brother and my sister together spark such an expression of longing in her unless…

  The answer hits me hard. Edward’s a fundamentally decent guy with the patience to bring an innocent young woman along gently. Any “wooing” I ever did of Amelia happened in bed…or against a wall, on a floor, anywhere that happened to be convenient. I regret that now. She deserved better.

  I’ve sent her away twice--once from the estate and the second time supposedly out of my life altogether. Yet here we are.

  Third time’s the charm? I almost laugh at the thought. Nothing about my life has been charmed and for sure nothing
about Amelia’s has been either. Riding off into the happily-ever-after may be fine for Edward and Marianne. If he makes a move on her that had damn well be what does happen. But it’s not for us.

  Us. I turn the word over in my mind. It hurts but I take the pain and hold on to the idea. That feels good enough that I let it linger as the music picks up again. Amelia and I dance on.

  Chapter Seven

  Amelia

  I can’t fathom Ian’s mood. He seems genuinely unconcerned about any danger to himself whereas I’m still shaking from his confrontation with Davos. What can I say to convince him to take the threat to his own safety seriously?

  Even if I could find the words, I doubt that anything that would come out of my mouth right now would make much sense. Being with Ian again, in his arms, the warmth of his body driving away the cold that has sunk into my bones since we parted makes me feel as though I am flying apart. I’m torn between joyful relief and the sharp pain of knowing that we will go our separate ways when the ball is over and the evening ends.

  How can we do otherwise? When we are together, he fears that he will harm me and I know that I am harming him. I can’t bear to be the cause of his suffering. Yet here we are…dancing. His right hand holds mine with gentle firmness while the other rests possessively on my waist. My palm has drifted a little from the broad sweep of his shoulder. I can feel the powerful muscles of his upper arm even through the fabric of his evening jacket. Too vividly I remember what he looks like in his natural state, his body perfectly formed and honed, the ultimate expression of masculine beauty.