Ivan (Gideon's Riders Book 3)

by Kit Rocha

  Too bad that was exactly what she wanted.

  But she’d take what she could get. And if that meant her time with Ivan would be limited to a handful of stolen moments no one else could know about, she’d just have to make sure those moments counted.

  She brushed a kiss over his chin. “It sounds like you’re suggesting a torrid secret affair.”

  One of his eyebrows went up. “You want torrid?”

  “Is there any other kind of secret affair?”

  “Maybe not.” He gathered her hair back from her face as he stared up at her. “I can show you torrid. I can show you a lot of things. You just have to tell me how far you want to go.”

  She didn’t have limits, not where Ivan was concerned. Not where her heart was concerned. “I think...we should find out. Together.”

  “All right.” He sounded so serious, like he was making a vow or a pledge. But his fingers tightened in her hair, drawing her mouth back to his.

  The kiss was soft, slow. An opportunity to explore--and Maricela took it. She slid her hands over his body, every place she hadn’t had the time or presence of mind to touch yet. The hard plane of his stomach. The sharp lines of his ribs. The strong cord of muscle that ran down the side of his neck.

  And when she’d satisfied her curiosity, she started again--this time with her tongue.

  His muscles flexed and tensed under her mouth, tighter as she drifted lower. He groaned when her teeth raked his skin, then shuddered and sank his fingers into her hair again when she licked his hipbone. “Maricela--”

  “Shh.” She teased her fingernails down his thighs. “Just say yes.”

  It came out as another groan. “Yes.”

  He made a delectable noise of pure pleasure low in the back of his throat when she wrapped her hand around his cock and touched her tongue to the crown, and Maricela silently added it to the list of things she was pretty sure she could no longer live without.

  I can give you this, for as long as you want it.

  It would have to be enough.

  Chapter Fifteen

  Ivan woke with the faint rattle of the door to Maricela’s suite. Even with two more solid wooden doors between him and the sound, he was so attuned to it that his eyes snapped open.

  The first warm glow of dawn filtered through Maricela’s curtains, giving him just enough light to see. Maricela herself was a warm, yielding weight snuggled tight against his side, one hand resting on his chest and the other tucked under her chin. Her hair cascaded over his arm, soft as silk and more than a little disheveled.

  His perfect princess looked debauched--and Ivan was definitely going to hell.

  The familiar murmur of servants and the clink of serving trays eased his body back from high alert. The cooks’ assistants would lay out breakfast for two and vanish again, and Ivan would have time to extricate himself and figure out how to present a cool, collected front to the world.

  No one could know that he’d spent the night with his fingers and tongue inside Sector One’s beloved princess. No one could know how quickly her shy desire had melted into eager hunger, a hunger he’d been all too willing to sate.

  No one could know how many times she’d come around his cock.

  Like many of his fellow Riders, Ivan had a contraceptive implant. He couldn’t risk leaving any children behind on the day he inevitably fell in battle. Some women would have been willing and ready to carry his baby--especially knowing that Gideon would always provide for a child of a fallen Rider--but Ivan had grown up as the son of a self-sacrificing saint. He wouldn’t put that pressure on a child of his own.

  That’s why he’d always picked practical lovers, women who only wanted convenient physical companionship with no emotional entanglements. Nothing more than a mild mutual affection.

  He’d never had a woman stare up at him with huge eyes brimming with trust and naked adoration before. He’d never felt this hitch in his chest that followed Maricela nuzzling closer and pressing her nose to his shoulder with a sleepy murmur.

  He’d never had his control shatter like it had the previous night. And he wasn’t sure how to fit those pieces back together.

  The back of his neck prickled and his muscles tensed, and it took him a moment to realize why. A new voice had joined those in the outer room, the words unintelligible but the tone and rhythm unmistakable.

  Ana.

  Ivan laid a hand on Maricela’s shoulder and shook her gently. “Hey, wake up.”

  She barely stirred. “Unh-uh.”

  “Maricela.” He put a little steel in his voice, as much as he could while keeping it barely above a whisper. “Ana’s in your sitting room.”

  “She what?” Maricela rubbed her eyes, then sucked in a sharp breath. “Wait, she what?”

  “Shh.” Ivan gently extricated himself from the tangle of her arms and legs and slipped from the bed. “Gideon probably wants to see me, so he sent Ana to watch over you for the morning. I’ll get in the shower, and you stall her.”

  She was already throwing back the covers and waving him away. “Go.”

  He spared a few moments to gather up his scattered clothing and hauled it with him into Maricela’s massive bathroom.

  The entire apartment he’d shared with his mother could have fit in this one room. Hell, his bedroom would have fit in her tub alone. It was the size of a small swimming pool, surrounded by tiled steps and lined with shelves full of oils, soaps, and who the fuck knew what else. Three massive spigots at one end could open to fill the thing with hot water pumped from the giant cisterns on the roof, which was probably a waste if you didn’t have half a dozen friends who wanted to bathe with you.

  The shower on the opposite side of the room was almost quaint by comparison. It was still borderline obscene--big enough for three with beautifully patterned tile and frosted glass doors, but at least the giant rainfall showerhead was efficient as well as luxurious.

  Ivan stepped under the cascade of water and winced as the spray hit the deep scratches across his shoulders.

  With a little encouragement, Maricela had expressed her passion directly and enthusiastically. She was so eager, so hungry--he’d barely cracked the bars on her polite little cage, and she’d flung herself straight into hedonism.

  He knew it wasn’t him. He reminded himself of that firmly as he tried to wash the scent of sex and Maricela’s floral perfume from his skin. Last night had been the result of weeks of tension, driven beyond the breaking point by the stresses of the house party and the ball. The secrecy only made it more appealing.

  He’d offered her an escape from the confines of being a Rios, a few precious moments of freedom where she could indulge herself in selfish pleasure. Those big, gorgeous eyes hadn’t been staring up at him in adoration, merely at what he represented. Something wild, something forbidden. Something that was just for her.

  Ivan could be that. For as long as she wanted.

  By the time he was out of the shower, Maricela had gone through to the sitting room and closed the door to Ivan’s antechamber behind her. He stashed his rumpled tux and hauled on clean clothes as well as his boots. The fabric of his T-shirt rasped over the fresh scratch marks, and he had to take a moment to exert enough rigid self-control to keep his body from reacting.

  If he was headed to face Gideon, his body could not be reacting.

  In the sitting room, Maricela was pouring tea. She’d slipped into a casual patchwork sundress done up in shades of pale yellow and deep blue, and she smiled up at him. “Good morning.”

  He nodded to her, then to Ana, who had sprawled in his usual spot at the table, her booted feet crossed at the ankle. “Ana.”

  “Hey.” Ana waved at him with half a breakfast roll. “Deacon wants you over at the barracks ASAP, but I’ll stay with Maricela until you’re done. You probably have time for breakfast, if you want.”

  Breakfast with Maricela would be nice. Breakfast with Maricela under Ana’s observant gaze, however? Not such a good idea. Ana had always had a
knack for seeing more than Ivan meant to show, even before she joined the Riders. If anyone was going to catch them, it would be her.

  Which meant Ivan had to get his ass moving. “No, I shouldn’t keep the boss waiting. You two have a good morning.”

  Maricela acknowledged him only with an absent smile, which was smart and practical and the only way they’d be able to keep this damn secret longer than a day.

  He still left wishing he could kiss her goodbye.

  This was a bad, bad idea.

  »»» § «««

  The farther Ivan got from Maricela, the more doubt intruded. By the time he was seated around the big table in the Riders’ lounge, watching Deacon and Gideon finish their quiet discussion, the guilt was smothering.

  He was a sacrilegious fucker who didn’t deserve to look his leader in the eye--and Gabe’s haunted expression reminded him that he was probably a murderer, too. Not that killing was anything new--

  But he’d never killed a friend’s brother before.

  Deacon stepped up to the end of the table. “Javier Montero died last night,” he said bluntly. “For everyone’s peace of mind--ours and his family’s--we need to figure out exactly what happened.”

  A few gazes swung toward him--including Gabe’s. He was the one whose tortured eyes Ivan met. “I swear, Gabe, I knocked him around a little, but I don’t think it was enough to kill him. We’ve all hit each other harder during training.”

  “It’s not that simple,” Kora murmured. “Like you said--you’re a fighter. You train, so you know how to minimize injury.” She paused. “And maximize it.”

  Deacon rubbed a hand over his face. “So you’re saying that’s what killed him?”

  “No,” she countered quickly. “I’m not saying that at all. Just that it’s a possibility, one of many.” She turned to Gideon. “I managed to get a look at the b--at Javier last night. He did have a bump on the head, but that doesn’t mean he sustained it during the altercation with Ivan. If he was as drunk as everyone says, he could have taken a fall and hit his head then. Or it could have been something else entirely, and the head injury is a coincidence.”

  Lucio drummed his fingers on the table. “We need an autopsy.”

  “We do,” Kora allowed. “But they’re so far outside of religious practice that we won’t get one, not unless Gideon demands it. And I don’t think that’s a good idea. We should respect the Montero family’s wishes.”

  “We need a tox screen, at the very least,” Ashwin argued. “Ivan and Javier’s confrontation was widely known by the time the ball started. If I were targeting the Riders, I would have taken advantage of that and disposed of Javier in a way that left Ivan looking culpable.”

  “Poison,” Reyes said flatly.

  Gideon pinched the bridge of his nose. “Kora, is there a minimally invasive way to check for this? What would you need?”

  “Minimally invasive? No. For a proper post-mortem toxicology workup, you need blood, hair, vitreous humor, stomach contents...” She trailed off, shaking her head. “I’d settle for the blood.”

  “Blood. All right. When we’re finished here, Deacon can accompany you and Ashwin to the Montero estate. Invoking my name should be enough to get you that much. And, Gabe, if you feel up to it...”

  “I’ll go,” Gabe said without hesitation. He had both hands resting on the table, and Ivan watched as his fingers curled toward his palms. “There are people there who will talk to me. Servants, some of the younger cousins. My little sisters. I know Javier has been stressed out, but the way he talked to Maricela last night... Something was wrong.”

  Reyes reached out to him. “Hey, everybody gets drunk and does shit they don’t mean sometimes.”

  “Not Javier. Fuck, you know that, Reyes. How many times did he drink all of us under the table? And he’s always been more of a stickler for proper manners than the three of us combined.” Gabe clenched his fists. “Something’s changed in my family. I need to figure out what’s happening.”

  “Did he do that often?” Kora asked quietly.

  “Do what?”

  “Drink you all under the table.”

  Gabe’s eyes narrowed, and his jaw tightened. “He didn’t used to, no more than anyone else. But I... I haven’t seen him much lately.”

  “It doesn’t seem so crazy to me, your brother getting handsy with Maricela.” Everyone turned to look at Laurel, who shrugged uncomfortably. “I mean, I don’t know a lot about your customs here, or the way the Rios family is supposed to be treated, but...everyone at that party seemed to feel like they were entitled to a piece of the princess.”

  Nobody else would have said it to Gideon. The words hung in sudden silence, echoing with their bluntness, and the fact that no one immediately leapt to refute them was its own sort of damnation.

  What argument could they offer? Ivan could hear Maricela’s voice from the night of the first dance, casual and wry as she recounted all the ways Estela Reyes had sold access to her. Maybe it seemed unthinkable to imagine one of the nobles violating her physical boundaries, but nobody had protested the constant, unceasing violations to her mind and heart.

  Not even Maricela.

  “That’s an astute observation,” Gideon said finally. His expression remained bland, almost impassive, but his brown eyes held a struck flame of frustration. “It’s never been this bad before. Isabela means well, but I’m afraid that her eagerness to make a match for Maricela has resulted in some unforeseen consequences.”

  Deacon frowned. “It wouldn’t hurt for Maricela to lay low for a while, keep out of the public eye. She could probably use a break.”

  “I agree.” Gideon glanced to Ivan. “How was she this morning?”

  It took every scrap of Ivan’s willpower, built over decades, to keep from squirming under Gideon’s perceptive gaze. Part of him was certain that even if he kept his guilt from his face, Gideon would somehow pluck the truth from the air anyway--there was a reason people whispered that God spoke directly into his chosen leader’s heart.

  But Gideon was simply watching him, one brow raised, nothing more dangerous than worry shrouding his eyes. Nobody suspected Ivan because none of them could imagine a world where he would--

  No. No. He wouldn’t think about the things he’d done to Maricela. Not now. Not with Gideon watching him, waiting for a reply. “She’s a little shaken up, but I think she’s okay. But...”

  When he hesitated too long, Gideon prompted him. “But?”

  Telling Gideon the truth wasn’t crossing any lines. This was part of his duty--protecting Maricela. “She does need a break. I don’t think she’d ever admit it to you, but the party was wearing her down. Bad. I don’t know if she would have made it the rest of the week.”

  Gideon sighed. “You’re right. She probably wouldn’t have told me. I’ll talk to her, though. And in the meantime... I’m not saying you have to confine her to the estate, but let’s keep a low profile.”

  Kora rose. “The sooner we go to the Montero estate, the better.”

  “Before you go--is there any update on the DNA test?”

  She shook her head. “Not yet. Confirming a relationship between a single grandparent and grandchild isn’t easy. I’ve compared Lucas’s profile to the one on file for Fernando Rios, but it’s not enough of the picture to judge conclusively. His mother has agreed to come in for testing, though. Once I narrow down which markers she contributed, I might have an answer for you.”

  “All right. Go on.” He waved a hand to Gabe, who left the table and squeezed Ivan’s shoulder on his way past. That was it--no words, no look, just a brief tightening of fingers. But a weight in Ivan’s chest eased slightly.

  When the four of them were gone, Gideon turned back to the table, his expression far more serious. “The DNA test is a formality, but a positive match might make Lucas even more dangerous. Isabela has invited him and his mother to stay with her as guests for the foreseeable future. Many people underestimate Isabela to their peril, but she
’ll be watching him.”

  “I dug deep into every system I could get my hands on,” Zeke offered. “Nada. I even had my friend in Eden run a facial recognition scan. He pops up a couple times in the last few months, but nothing incriminating. Shopping in the market. Eating dinner with Antonio Montero. But we already knew Gabe’s uncle sponsored him, so...”

  “So, assuming he has bad intentions, he’s either here to kill you or woo your baby sister.” Reyes winced. “What’s the more time-honored method of seizing power, murder or marriage?”

  “Yes,” Lucio answered.

  “Both,” Ivan agreed, not knowing if his conviction came from a warrior’s instincts or a man’s jealousy. Even the thought of Lucas oozing charm all over Maricela tightened every muscle that Gabe’s silent acknowledgment had eased. “Even if his goal is to marry Maricela, there’s no clear path to power while Gideon’s alive.”

  Hunter sighed. “There is still a chance that he’s just a guy looking to reconnect with his family.”

  “That’s it, buddy,” Zeke said, punching Hunter on the shoulder. “Keep hope alive.”

  “Zeke,” Gideon chided mildly. “Hunter’s right. All the children of the civil war suffered. I don’t want him condemned. But I don’t want us caught off-guard, either.”

  Reyes scoffed. “No matter what his intentions are, after a couple weeks with Isabela, he’ll think twice about causing trouble.”

  “Let’s hope.” Gideon rapped his knuckles on the table. “Let’s try to get back to business as usual around here. And, Ivan? I don’t want you visiting Del for any new ravens until Kora’s finished with her work. Understood?”

  “Yes, sir,” he said out of habit. But as the meeting broke up, a chill clawed its way up his spine.

  Ivan hadn’t been thinking about the raven. From the day he’d joined the Riders, each trip to Del’s chair had been a solemn occasion, laced with a twisted kind of satisfaction. Each drop of ink in his skin solidified the truth he’d learned in childhood--that he was bad. That he was wrong. That he was damned.

  He’d never rejoiced in taking a life, but he’d lived for those moments where the sharp pain of the needles clarified his own personal truth--there was no future for him but a good death, the best one he could wrench out of his undoubtedly short life. He’d been damaged goods since childhood, either cursed with his mother’s bleakness or simply broken by it. Finding out which had never seemed important. He didn’t have to be happy or even sane to go out in a blaze of heroic glory.