by Lexi C. Foss
“So, it’s okay to leave this early?” she wondered as the limo inched forward. It was only ten o’clock.
“The sizable donation I left excused us from the art auction, which means now we can get some real food. I’m thinking Italian, unless you have a different preference?” That explained his eagerness to leave. He was hungry. Typical male.
“Does that mean I have to wait until after dinner for answers?”
He considered while toying with one of her blonde strands. “I suppose you’ve upheld your side of our bargain for the night. What would you like to know, Miss Davenport?”
“Everything.”
“I believe our arrangement was for three questions.”
“Fine.”
*
She was adorable when frustrated. That little growl she gave him in The Pierre lobby almost had him hoisting her over his shoulder and carrying her upstairs to a room. It wouldn’t be the first time he booked a suite after a gala, but tonight it wasn’t good enough. He wanted her in his bed; a foreign concept. His dates always stayed in the spare condo or a hotel room, but Astasiya was different. She spent time in his personal space and he liked having her there.
He started pulling the pins from her hair. There weren’t many, just a few strategically placed to hold all those glorious curls off her back. She nibbled her delectable lower lip while his fingers worked. When he plucked the last pin free, he combed through the thick strands and luxuriated in their natural texture. Natural blondes were his kryptonite, and this one was particularly alluring. A passionate night in bed would cure the obsession, but for now he was enjoying it.
His phone vibrated. He used his free hand to remove it from his jacket and read the incoming message. A summons. He could ignore Osiris, but it would be prudent to accept and play along. For now. He slipped the phone back into his jacket pocket and pressed a button to talk to Benjamin. “Change in plans. We need to take Miss Davenport home. I believe you know the address.” His driver confirmed and he closed the connection.
“Sorry, darling, where were we?” He slid his hand down to her neck and started working on the tense muscles there. “Right, you were about to ask me a question.”
“What do you want from me, Issac? What are you really using me for?”
Her words struck a deep chord, tugging at his chest. Those were not questions he expected from her, not while he was trying to seduce her. “You think I’m using you?”
“I know you are, but I don’t know why. Is it because I’m a fledgling?”
It would be so easy to refuse her, but this she deserved an answer to. Even if it wasn’t one he wanted to give. He started massaging her scalp, focusing on the areas of tension elicited by the former hairpins. Her shoulders fell, the telltale sign she was relaxing into his ministrations. He hoped it would offer some reassurance where his words did not.
“This isn’t about you, not necessarily.” He considered his next words carefully. “I am righting a wrong, and fate placed you in the center of my plans. You see, you’re quite literally the perfect pawn.”
The pink flush in her cheeks died as her body stiffened beside him. All those muscles were tense again. His words were not what she wanted to hear, but they were true. He could have lied, but for what purpose?
“Are you going to elaborate on your plans?”
“I will when you’re ready.”
“Any idea when that will be?”
Considering how well the evening went … “I suspect it will be very soon.”
She chewed on her cheek, her eyebrows drawn down. Whatever she was thinking seemed to bother her immensely. It took her two tries before she managed, “Are you going to get me killed, Issac?”
“It’s a distinct possibility, yes.” Of course she would wake up immortal. A loss for him, but a gain for her. She had the potential to become a powerful Hydraian, if Lucian allowed it.
“Then why bother saving me?”
“Because I need you alive.”
“But only until you’re finished with your plans.”
“Exactly.” Then she would be free to accept fate whenever she liked.
Her hands balled into tiny fists, making him frown. Hurting her was not his intension, but seemed an inevitability. Just because his plan was likely to get her killed didn’t mean he wished death upon her. He found her company rather enjoyable, a rarity these days. She made him laugh. The last person to do that was Amelia.
The realization didn’t hurt him as it usually did. Perhaps it was a reprieve brought on by his plans moving forward? Tonight was an utter success, something to be celebrated. But as he watched a tear fall from the corner of one beautiful green eye, he didn’t feel much like celebrating. Astasiya flicked it away and turned to look out the window.
“I didn’t mean to hurt you.”
“I’m fine.”
He gripped her chin and forced her to look at him. Her fiery gaze startled him. She wasn’t hurt, she was furious. The tension in her shoulders and the mutinous line of her jaw both indicated she wanted to throttle him.
“You’re angry.”
“And you’re perceptive.”
The limo came to a stop just outside her building. Seeing it, she opened the door beside her and jumped out without waiting for Benjamin or saying another word. He climbed out on his side and cut her off on the sidewalk.
“I’m sorry, did you want a thank you?” Hostility poured off her in waves.
He frowned. “This bout of childishness is not becoming.”
Her expression told him that was the wrong thing to say, despite it being the truth. “Childish? You think I’m being childish? You know what? Fuck you.” She moved around him and marched down the sidewalk in a manner that he considered to be the definition of immature.
Eyes rolling heavenward for patience, he started after her. She made it through the lobby before he caught her by elbow. He maneuvered her into the elevator and hit the button to her floor. “Right, I can see you are furious with me and no amount of groveling is going to fix that quickly.” So he did the only thing he could do. He kissed her. Hard.
When her lips parted in protest, he took full advantage and showed her with his tongue what he couldn’t say with words. He wanted her. The thought of her dying burned him, but it was her fate. All they had was now and she was wasting it by being angry over words. Most women preferred honesty.
He cradled her face between his hands, kissing her soundly. Her low moan of approval went straight to his gut, encouraging him. If only they could take this back to her bedroom. His meeting was in thirty minutes and that wasn’t enough time. Delicate fingers tangled in his hair as her other hand slid against the vest beneath his coat. The emotional battle she was fighting was written in her rigid shoulders. She held back just enough to let him know he wasn’t anywhere near forgiven.
The elevator doors opened. He backed her out and up against the wall, not giving a damn who might see them. He ground his hips into hers, letting her feel the evidence of his desire, wanting her to realize that although she was the key to his success, he also felt something more. Perhaps it was only lust that drove him, but she had to know it was better than nothing.
Her tension lessened with each stroke of his tongue against hers until she melted into his arms, succumbing to his will. He knew how to work with this, his hand sliding to her breast to tweak her hard nipple through the dress. She arched into him with a moan, all inhibition thrown to the wind. He did it again, because he could, lavishing in her response and taking full advantage of the thin silk. Her breast fit perfectly in his hand. The thin straps of her dress taunted him. One tug and the fabric would pull around her waist. A temptation to be fulfilled another night.
She was right where he wanted her. He broke the kiss despite wanting to do the opposite and palmed her cheeks.
“You seem to mistake truth for what I want to happen,” he whispered. “Fate has a path for you that doesn’t involve me. I’m only borrowing you while I can. Please
don’t waste it by staying angry over a few honest answers.”
Arousal illuminated her gaze while fiery embers ignited in her pupils. She was turned on and angry. A heady combination that had him reconsidering his evening plans. “You only saved me to use me.”
“I saved you because I need you.”
“To fulfill your plans that might get me killed.”
“All mortals die eventually, Astasiya.”
“That’s how you justify it?”
He closed his eyes and tried to find his old friend, forbearance. This was why he preferred women in bed. Emotions were complications he avoided. Yet he felt compelled to placate her. When did he start caring about hurt feelings?
“You’re a fledgling, Astasiya. When you die, you’ll be reborn a Hydraian. That is how I justify it.” He pushed away from her and started towards her door. She trailed a step behind him.
“You’re saying when I die, I’ll become immortal?” she asked as he pulled her clutch from his jacket pocket. She left it on the table earlier in the evening and he worried she might forget it. Her eyes widened a little as he handed it to her, the only sign that she was surprised to see it. He was right to assume she would leave it on the table.
“Yes, a Hydraian.”
“Then why bother saving me this week if I would just wake up?”
“Because the Nizari was specifically designed to make sure you wouldn’t.” He tucked a hair behind her ear. “I believe you are over your quota for the evening, darling. I’ll be out of touch for the remainder of the weekend.” He didn’t allow her a chance to speak, just pulled her in for a kiss before starting down the hallway. “Sleep well, Astasiya.”
Her muttered curse followed him all the way home. He was going to have some serious groveling to do when he saw her again.
10
The Soultaker
It was half past ten when Stas slipped into The Arcadia. The upscale club was littered with gyrating couples dressed in scraps of black. Most of the women were showing varying degrees of midriff, some even going as far as only wearing bikini tops. Or maybe those were bras; she couldn’t be sure.
She was among the more conservatively dressed in her clingy black dress. It was the best outfit she could find in her un-club worthy wardrobe. She considered raiding Lizzie’s closet, but that would have required telling her roommate where she was headed. Not an option. She refused to put her best friend at risk. Besides, this was her mystery to solve.
A deep bass pumped through the club, vibrating the drink in her hand. She’d opted for a Manhattan to help take the edge off. Her nerves were buzzing. What if Issac caught her here? She couldn’t tell him Tom sent her. That would be admitting she was here to investigate him. Her plan was to remain hidden. The backup plan was to play it off to coincidence. He said he was busy the rest of the weekend. Maybe he wasn’t even here. Or maybe he is …
What did the Ichorian do when he wasn’t busy toying with her? Go clubbing and hook up with random women? That was what she suspected Tom wanted her to see. She didn’t want to see Issac with another woman, but last night’s date felt too real at certain points. She needed a reminder that their relationship was a business arrangement and nothing else.
“You’re quite literally the perfect pawn.” His words reverberated through her heart, making her wince. Stupid, fickle organ. Somewhere along the line, emotions other than lust got involved, but he solved that problem last night with a few words. The only difference between her and his other conquests was he needed her for something more. That was why he kept her around longer than the rest. Once he was done using her, he would discard her like everyone else. It was his modus operandi.
The club was dark, making it difficult to locate her demon. He wasn’t on the dance floor or on any of the leather couches near the bar. That left the tables lining the back of the massive room or the VIP lounge upstairs. As she couldn’t get up there, she opted to explore the rear of the club.
There were some kinky things going on back there. The couples on the couches were taking exhibitionism to a whole new level and the voyeurs were loving every minute. She was no prude, but the things they were doing had heat crawling up her neck. If she found Issac here with some woman, her lust for him would be cured. Relief flooded her when she approached the last couple. He wasn’t back here.
Awareness prickled her spine as she turned away, his charisma palpable even from a distance. Electricity danced over her skin. Her demon was descending the stairs from the VIP area, two other men walking with him, their attention on the crowd below. She took a step backwards into the shadows as his gaze drifted towards the back of the club.
All three of them were dressed in bespoke suits. Issac was the only one sporting a tie. All black from head to toe, he resembled the demon she knew him to be, and damn if he didn’t look good. The two males with him weren’t bad to look at either, one had thick blond hair, while the other’s hair was the color of dark chocolate. Their athletic physiques rivaled her demon’s, but they stood an inch or two shorter.
A new beat rocked the club, faster and harder, intensifying the crowd. The three men moved around it, out of her view. She took a few steps to follow them, only to be stopped by a brazen touch against her spine. A threat lingered in that bold stroke, rolling a wave of unease through her stomach.
“Hello, lovely. Care to dance?”
This wasn’t part of the plan, but she should have expected it. Despite looking like a nun when compared to half the room, her dress still did reveal a lot of leg. It was also strapless, something she really regretted as the stranger’s nail traced the base of her neck.
“I’m actually looking for someone.” She faced him and took a step backwards to get out of his reach and nearly tripped over her heels. It was the bulky blond guy from Owen’s apartment. The one who was leaving the morning she met Issac. Hank, she recalled. Not that that was his real name.
“I’m looking for someone too.” His brown eyes were too busy roaming over her neckline. It gave her just enough time to recover.
“Sorry, I meant I’m meeting someone.” She managed a steady voice after clearing her throat twice. Her words usually made a man leave her alone, but this man struck her as determined. The words seemed to go right through him as he moved into her personal space. She took a step back into a wall of male and spun to the side. The glass fell from her hand, shattering on the floor. The brown haired brute from Owen’s apartment leered down at her. Brutus.
Well, shit.
“What did you find, Mike?”
Mike? Seriously?
“Something delicious.” Mike’s smile made her stomach churn.
Danger poured from them in waves, forcing her to back up another step. It was in the wrong direction, placing her closer to the couches and farther from the exit. When she attempted a side step in the right direction, Mike moved in her way. It forced her to try the other side, where Brutus blocked her. They were herding her.
“It’s cute. She thought my asking her to dance was a request.”
“I guess she’s not into the gentlemanly thing, so we should get right to the point?”
“That’s certainly how I’m interpreting it.”
“You really don’t want to do this.” Instinct warred within her. One command and they would have to leave her alone, but it wouldn’t be subtle enough for them not to notice. And the last thing she needed were these two becoming aware of her persuasive abilities. Something told her they were about as human as her demon.
“Upstairs?” Mike asked.
“Yeah, she seems like a screamer. Do your thing, buddy.”
Mike got in her face, his grin menacing. “Gladly.” She took another step back when he reached for her. If he touched her, she wouldn’t have a choice but to demand he let her go and make a run for it. It was that or risk being gagged and unable to speak.
“Gentlemen, I do hope you’re planning to share.”
Fuck. She knew she could command one, maybe two people
to leave her alone. But three? She wasn’t sure. It wasn’t anything she ever had a need to try before.
Mike and Brutus turned towards the unfamiliar voice, revealing the dark-haired man who followed Issac down the stairs only minutes ago. He looked her up and down, recognition warming his hazel irises. “She is a tempting morsel.”
“Back off, Tristan. We found her first.” Mike folded thick arms over his broad chest, his stance challenging. Tristan was a few inches shorter and more athletic in stature, but there was an ominous air about him that had her betting on him in a fight over the two bodybuilders. Not that she would stick around for the altercation should it occur.
“Did you, though?” Tristan cocked his head to the side, considering. “I fear you might be wrong about that.” The two brawny males visibly stiffened as a familiar warmth caressed her back. Tristan lifted his gaze to the one behind her. “You need a better leash for your pet, Issac.”
A familiar hand grabbed her hip while the other circled her neck. “Indeed. Thank you, Tristan.”
“Sire.” He bowed his head and took his leave. Mike and his friend stuck around, their eyes locked on Issac with a mixture of uncertainty and resigned reverence.
“Gentlemen, my apologies for the misunderstanding. This one belongs to me.” He pulled her back against his solid chest.
“S-sorry, Wakefield, we didn’t know she was yours.” Mike put his hands in front of him, a sign of surrender.
“Yeah, we didn’t mean anything by it. We’re really sorry.”
The two groveling goons took a step backwards, their gazes contrite. They were terrified. She frowned. What had them scrambling to get away from her demon? His presence was daunting, but this was more than mere intimidation.
“An oversight on my part, I assure you. You’re forgiven.” Tension radiated at her back. He was furious. At her?
