Investigated

by Maya Daniels

  “Zoltan, mind if you explain this to me?” It takes me a second to realize bushy eyebrows is talking to the one I’m doing my hardest to ignore.

  Tasting my blood when I bite through the skin on my lip, I stifle the groan that is pushing to be freed from my chest. Zoltan walks up, taking the letter from the other guy’s outstretched hand, the cool breeze slamming his scent in my face. It’s dark and enticing, but I can’t exactly put my finger on if it’s his natural smell or a cologne he is using. It’s not a common thing we do because of all the sensitive noses around, but it is known to happen. Or I’m just deluding myself with ideas to make him less attractive to my stupid body.

  “Francesca Drake,” Zoltan says with that damn voice, making my skin and nipples pebble like eager fools.

  “I prefer Franky, thank you very much.” What was supposed to sound sharp and authoritative turned out breathy, and I kind of sound like I am purring like a bitch in heat.

  I want to kick myself when he stiffens, his blue gaze flicking to my face before dropping to the paper again. Bushy eyebrows looks from me, to Zoltan, and back with slanted eyes, almost like we are keeping secrets from him. Staring at his face helps get my mind out of the gutter. The longer Zoltan reads the letter, the more I can feel his energy changing, distancing himself from me, while earlier it was like his essence was flirting with mine. It’s like a physical blow to feel the cold void gaping between us now, and that clears my head even more.

  “Fenrir did say he was expecting her,” Zoltan tells bushy eyebrows, turning entirely away from me, like maybe if he can’t see me, he can pretend I don’t exist.

  “Fenrir can go rule his realm and get out of my academy if he thinks the rest of us will bow and grovel at his feet while he entertains guests here like this institution is a joke!” I swear bushy eyebrows grows a few inches when his voice booms in the night, the face getting redder by the second and his body flickering. “I will rip them both apart and be done with it!”

  “You cannot stand between mates, Azgor.” Zoltan wraps a hand over the pissed off guy, calming him down. “You know this.”

  When bushy eyebrows, who I now know is called Azgor, calms down instantly, I breathe out a relieved breath. This night keeps getting weirder and weirder, even for my standards. My body sags, telling me I was coiled up from the tension in the air coming from both men. Taking a deep breath, I’m about to thank Zoltan for being levelheaded in this situation before we all end up at each other’s throats when his words penetrate my brain.

  “Wait, what?” Rushing at him, I grab the letter from his hand, ignoring his growl. “What are you talking about? What mates?”

  “See? I knew this was a ploy!” Azgor snaps, getting agitated again, but I ignore him too.

  My eyes fly over the text written in a flowing, perfect penmanship. Sure as hell, in it some idiot has written that there is a possibility that Francesca Drake and Fenrir, no last name needed obviously, are mates, and both families request they be allowed to spend one week together. The paper gets crushed in my hands, and it takes everything in me not to let my fangs drop, or my eyes glow. That’s another disaster waiting to happen right there.

  “It’s not a ploy; it’s a personal matter that I didn’t think would be discussed with the likes of you.” Swallowing all the curses and the tantrum I would like to throw, I lift my chin, glaring at Azgor.

  “So it is true?” Zoltan’s words feel like he wrapped his hand around my heart and ripped it out of my chest.

  Get it together, you idiot! Chiding myself internally, I grind my teeth, avoiding his gaze. Why the hell do I care what he thinks? I’m here to do a job, and I don’t know this guy from Adam. For all I know, he is the one killing hybrids all over Sienna.

  “Yes.” It takes two tries to push that word out, and I feel like I’m about to puke. “I’m here to see Fenrir.”

  “Francesca!” A musical, too familiar voice precedes the man striding towards the three of us.

  “Ah, here comes Fenrir.” Azgor growls.

  We are still standing just outside of the forest surrounding the academy building. I haven’t had a chance to take it all in, the rows and rows of tall windows reaching for the sky, obscuring everything else in front of me. Whoever spoke is hidden behind Azgor’s bulky frame, but when the large men moves to face the person, I get my first glimpse of Fenrir.

  “You!” The word is wrenched from my lips.

  Chapter 9

  Azgor’s head snaps in my direction, and I stop everything that I wanted to say to the Fae smiling at me like I’m the love of his life. It’s the same asshole I met at Daren’s bar who offered to help with the cut on my hand. Coincidence?

  I think fucking not.

  “Should’ve waited for me at the gates.” I continue talking like I didn’t just use “you” as an accusation.

  “I’m sorry, my dear, the class lasted longer than expected.” Fenrir spreads his arms wide, his platinum hair floating around his face like he expects me to fall into his embrace.

  Umm, no thanks.

  As soon as he is close enough, I stick my hand out straight, stopping him from closing the distance between us. The tips of my fingers poke him in his firm chest, and a slight line forms on his handsome face. Looking confused, he reluctantly reaches for my outstretched palm, and I grab his hand fast, giving it two hard pumps like we just closed a business deal. His frown grows, and Azgor looks like his eyes are about to pop out of his skull.

  Zoltan snorts.

  “Well, I was almost killed.” Smiling sweetly, I hope he can see the fact that I want to separate his head from his body by the look on my face. “In case you were wondering what took me so long to get here.”

  “She shouldn’t even be here.” Azgor finds his voice again, unfortunately. “She didn’t pass the trials.”

  “What do you mean I didn’t pass them?” Maybe I should go on a killing spree and get rid of all three of them. I can find the records and leave this damn place tonight that way. “I’m standing here, aren’t I?”

  “I don’t know what she did, but she bypassed all of them.” He glares accusingly at me, and I glance from Fenrir to Zoltan.

  Both of them are watching me with curiosity and suspicion, but I’m tired, pissed off and sore. I have no desire to keep standing here and arguing with all of them. I need a place to hide and think about all the crazy that happened tonight, from the moment I found Roberti sitting in my armchair to the moment Fenrir showed his face in front of me. This is all a mess, and it seems too connected for my liking. I open my mouth to tell them all to get lost, to get them to show me a place where I can wash up and rest, when a loud gong pushes me to my knees.

  Squeezing my eyes shut, my hands press over my ears, and I feel a trickle running through my fingers over my chin to my neck. Arms wrap around me, strong and sure, as I’m being lifted in the air and pressed to a firm chest. I can hear sounds around me, faint and distorted like I’m listening to them from underwater. Cold air blasts me, freezing my skin, so I bury my face in the soft fabric of the shirt under my cheek. I know that whoever has me is moving me out of the open, but my body is not being jostled or shook, nor do I feel the person moving at all.

  Bright lights illuminate the skin of my closed eyelids, telling me I’m under a roof and no longer exposed to whatever it was that made that horrible sound. For just a moment, a thought about the others and if they are okay floats through my fuzzy brain, but it’s gone just as fast. I know one of them is not incapacitated since he is carrying me like a child in his arms. The rest of my senses are dulled to nothing. I can neither smell nor feel anything through my skin where my rescuer is touching me. There is no doubt in my mind that the warm fluid still trickling through my fingers is blood from my ears. The pain is so intense I almost feel numb from it. All I have to do is breathe and hope my eardrums will heal sooner rather than later.

  When the person carrying me enters a darkened space and tries to lower me onto what I’m assuming is a bed from
the sinking of the soft padding under my body, I release the hold on my ears and clutch their arms like a lifeline. My eyes are still closed, but I’m numb and disoriented from pain. Tasting acid in my mouth, I know if I try to speak I’m going to empty my stomach all over the person that helped me, so a pathetic moan is my argument for them to stay.

  I feel vulnerable.

  I’ve never felt like this in my life, and it scares the shit out of me. You found the perfect place to test your immortality, Franky. Right in the mouth of the beast, you idiot. My internal voice keeps yapping as if I’m not aware of all that. All my muscles unclench when the safe and strong arms stay wrapped around me. I should feel embarrassed that I’m clinging like a monkey to the guy, but right now, I couldn’t care less.

  He sits on the soft mattress, folding me in his lap, and I soak up the false security he offers like a sponge. I can already feel my body mending, the dull hum of the energy in my chest coming to life and pushing through my limbs. With deep breaths, I control it, hoping I don’t zap the person holding me to kingdom come with it. The damn thing is unpredictable at the best of times, so I’m not sure what it can do during a situation where I’m running on fumes. Slowly, but surely, my senses come to life, while the guy still holds me in his embrace, rocking my body gently. To my horror, his scent hits me first, dark and tempting, short-circuiting my brain and lodging a lump in my throat.

  Zoltan.

  Why the fuck couldn’t it have been Azgor that grabbed my pathetic ass to hide me from whatever? My body is already responding to Zoltan’s nearness, and I get angrier at myself by the second. Seriously, why can’t shit go right for me for once? And what is it about this guy in particular that triggers my inner nympho, that I can’t control my body’s response to him. I’ve never had a problem ignoring men before. Not even the Fae can have an effect on me since I’m basically one of them. Well, half, but that’s not important right now.

  “Shhh…I got you.” Zoltan’s deep voice vibrates in his chest where my cheek is pressed firmly, like I’m trying to merge myself with him. His large, warm hand rubs my back and arm in smooth, even strokes. “I got you. Nothing is going to hurt you. I won’t allow it.”

  He keeps repeating the same thing over and over, and I listen to him, mesmerized. He is murmuring under his breath, and I get the distinct feeling that he is not aware that he is talking out loud. Keeping my eyes closed because I’m a coward like that, I let him hold me for a long time. Everything around me disappears, all thoughts of pain, investigation, Roberti, murders, and the academy leaving my head. All I know is the man holding me in his arms, his sinful scent and voice and the safety of his body wrapped around mine. Just for this once. For just a few moments, I assure myself as I fully relax and mold to him.

  The crashing of a door being flung open and bouncing off the opposite wall makes me bolt upright, the top of my head colliding with Zoltan’s chin when both of us jump off the bed like teenagers caught making out. The room we are in blurs around me and I sway on my feet, almost faceplanting on the thick rug covering parts of the floor. Strong fingers grab me by the arm, holding me upright while I dangle like a drunk in his grip.

  “There you are, thank the fates.” Fenrir’s voice does not sound musical right now when he reaches for me. He seems worried, and it's grating on my nerves when I bat his grabby hands away.

  “Shut up!” The words are slurred because of the tongue that feels too thick for my mouth.

  “Why are you here,” Zoltan snarls, yanking me closer to him.

  Fenrir snarls back.

  Great. I feel like a chew toy between two snarling, angry dogs. Crazed laughter bubbles in my chest, but only a pathetic moan can be heard. What the hell is wrong with me? I can feel my body is healed, but I can barely keep my eyes open. Everything is blurry, and my head feels like it’s full of cotton.

  “I came for my mate.” Fenrir snaps at Zoltan, but it’s not the sinful guy that gets alert at that. It’s me. “I saw you taking her away from the open, and I’m grateful. I will, however, have her back now.”

  “What…” I bite hard on my tongue when Zoltan drops me like I’ve burnt him and my knees give out from under me.

  Crumpling on the floor in a heap, I flop on my back, a burst of the psychotic laughter echoing around us. Tears are streaming down my face, but there is nothing I can do to stop it. This whole thing is so insane that I expect to wake up passed out on some crazy brew I’ve drunk. Both men are staring at me with concern, and that makes me laugh harder.

  “You broke her,” Fenrir growls at Zoltan, crouching down next to me. “She was sane when I saw her. Prickly, but sane.”

  “Take your mate and get the hell out of my rooms.” There is no infliction in Zoltan’s voice, and I stop laughing.

  Fenrir lifts me up like a lifeless corpse, my hands and head flopping around while he folds me like a rug and turns for the door. Before we leave Zoltan’s room, he stops, the hands holding me tightening around my body like a vice.

  “Stay away from her, Zoltan. I do not wish to stand against you, but if you go anywhere near Francesca, you will leave me no choice.”

  My mind is spinning with what just happened and why Fenrir said that to Zoltan. Was I onto something when I thought that the too-handsome guy might be connected to the murders? Or is this just a pissing contest between two males for a piece of ass. Because as much as I don’t like calling myself that, none of them know me well enough for me to be anything else but that. All the blood rushes down south, and they act more animal than man. My heart skips a beat when Zoltan slams the door closed somewhere behind us, rattling the walls. Fenrir doesn’t slow down or miss a beat. He keeps striding purposely down the long hallway while I stare numbly at the high ceilings.

  What the fuck just happened?

  Chapter 10

  Things start off worse than I imagine. While Fenrir carries me to who knows where, I can’t help but think that some mage has cursed me recently. There is no other explanation why no matter what I do, everything goes wrong.

  I wasn’t supposed to bring attention to myself. This entire craziness depended on it, yet I did that very thing from the moment I neared the damn gate. From the day I was born, I was taught a few rules, ones that would help me stay alive. You don’t go anywhere near the academy. You never trust any of the Daywalkers. And most importantly, you never, ever cross one of them.

  I broke all those in one night.

  Bile keeps rising in my throat the more I think about it. As I keep mentioning, reckless is what I am. Stupid, I am not. Not until I agreed to come here. If I’m lucky, they might just kill me now and get it over with. I don’t want to think of the other alternatives.

  Another door opens while my mind is spinning with terrifying scenarios and with whatever is still wrong with me. That sound did more damage than I thought because, yet again, I can’t gain control over my body, nor can I keep my eyes open. If I stay alive long enough, maybe I’ll look into that as well, then hopefully I can send word to Roberti before meeting my end. Judging by the last hour or so, there is no doubt in my mind that I’ll be reaching my end here.

  “Francesca.” Fenrir has stopped moving while I am stuck in my head, his large palm slapping my face gently. “Open your eyes love. Come on, I need to see your pupils.”

  That comment could’ve been reasonable considering the circumstances, but panic grips my heart, stopping its beating. Some weird part of me rebels at the thought of allowing the Fae to see my eyes now. It’s really idiotic since he already saw what kind of a freak of nature I am at Raven’s Feather. Yet, my eyes squeeze tighter, and my response is just another pathetic moan.

  “Shit! You really are worse than I thought.” Fenrir dumps me on a bed, my body bouncing a couple of times as I hear his rushed footsteps around the room. “This is not good.” He keeps muttering under his breath.

  A click of a door locking feels like a nail in my coffin.

  Bolting upright, I sway again, luckily catching myse
lf on what I assume is a bedpost before I faceplant on the floor. With my eyes still closed, I strain my ears to hear where Fenrir is. Roberti might trust this guy, but the fact he was in town and approached me the same night I ended up here with him sends alarms blaring in my head.

  “You are safe with me.” Fenrir must’ve realized what I’m doing. He sounds insulted.

  I snort.

  “Yes.” Slurring, I grip the post tighter, my fingernails digging into the wood. “Said the wolf to the sheep.”

  “I am not your enemy, Francesca. I agreed to help, in case you have forgotten. That’s why you’re here in the first place.” The arrogance is oozing from his voice. “But we can talk about that later.” I hear his slow footfalls approaching, and my knees bend slightly by reflex. He stops. “I didn’t think you’d be affected this bad…you need to feed.” The last part is added warily.

  And I think nothing else can shock me tonight.

  “Stay back.” I sound a little better, the shock of what he said shaking off the weakness but still rendering me useless. “If…if you get anywhere near me…I’ll…I’ll kill you.”

  “I’m not sure you’re capable of standing upright for much longer, love.” His condescending tone grates on me. “I assure you, you can’t kill a fly right now, little less a pure-blooded Fae.” Opening my mouth to tell him to fuck off, Fenrir’s next words silence me mute. “I’m your only option if you want to survive here. Unless you would like to explain to the rest of them why a Fae needs to feed on blood inside a place that only pure bloods can enter.”

  Well, fuck me running, as my partner Aiden would say.

  The warmth radiating from Fenrir’s body seeps into mine. He comes close enough that I can feel his breath on my face while I was stunned by his words. Everything in me tells me to let my fangs drop and rip his throat out, but I breathe through my nose, controlling the urge the best that I can. I might not like him, or trust him for that matter, but what he said is the ugly truth. He is the only one here that knows why I came and what I am.