by Fleur Smith
“Clay,” I hissed. “What are you doing?”
“Just play along,” he murmured against my skin.
When we were the next in line, he twisted me around and kissed me passionately, leaving me breathless and wanting. For a moment, the entire airport fell away and only we existed. I didn’t care if there were Rain nearby. I probably wouldn’t have cared if there were a thousand Rain operatives all surrounding us with guns drawn. As long as Clay was kissing me like that, the rest of the world didn’t exist.
The security guard cleared his throat, and Clay released me.
“Sorry, we’re newlyweds,” he said, flashing a wide, toothy grin at the man before shifting his fingers to the chain around my throat to indicate the pendant.
The guard’s eyes traveled to my chest and recognition sparked in his eyes when he looked at the chain.
“Well, congratulations,” he said as he waved me toward him—the thin plastic strip of the x-ray machine looming between us like the gateway to hell. The guard moved closer to the machine just as I stepped through it.
Walking through the x-ray was one of the most terrifying things I’d had to do in a long time—and I’d just taken on a wendigo a few weeks before. I was certain that bells and alarms were going to ring and red lights would flash throughout the entire airport the moment I passed through it. That within seconds, I’d have a hoard of Rain closing in on me with guns drawn. My stress levels had risen so fast that I barely even realized I’d screwed my eyes shut as I walked through the gate. It was only when I exited the other side and the guard hummed that I opened them again.
“Looks like it’s down again,” he called to one of the other guards. Then he grabbed a manual wand and ran it over my legs and arms. “All clear,” he said as he winked at me. “Good luck on your honeymoon, Miss.”
I blinked in confusion before remembering what Clay had said. I lifted my chin, set my jaw, and forced my features into a confident expression I didn’t feel. “Thank you.”
Clay followed close behind me and the guard followed the same practice that he had with me, letting Clay through the “broken” scanner before only waving the x-ray wand over his arms and legs. He whispered something into Clay’s ear that made Clay chuckle.
“Just lucky I guess,” Clay replied before casting me an appreciative glance.
The guard’s eyes fell on the pendant around my neck again. Just as I reached for my backpack, he asked Clay where our journey was taking us.
“Greece,” Clay said without stopping to think about the answer. “The sport is always good there this time of year.”
The guard sighed wistfully. “Have fun,” he said.
“So, what exactly was that about?” I asked when we were a safe distance away from the guard on our way to the boarding gate.
An all-too-innocent look crossed Clay’s face. “What was what about?”
“Why’d they let us through like that?”
“Because we’re Rain.” He tapped the pendant.
My stomach twisted at the mere idea of being associated with that organization. It may have been Clay’s heritage, but I couldn’t accept the thought nearly as easily.
“But what about that kiss?”
His cheeks twitched with amusement. “That was for your benefit.”
“My benefit?”
He stroked his fingers over my cheek, before brushing his knuckle across the corner of my lips. At the gentle touch, my mouth dried out and my eyes drifted closed. “You were getting stressed.” He leaned forward and touched his lips softly to mine. “I had to calm you down.”
With my eyes still closed, I relished the feeling of his sweet breath brushing my skin. My voice was barely a breathless whisper when I asked, “And that was the best way you could think of?”
He chuckled, and my eyes sprung open. “Well, it was certainly the most enjoyable way.”
I slapped his shoulder playfully, which earned another laugh. “What did he say to you, anyway?”
Clay’s laughter grew, but he didn’t answer.
I frowned. “You’re not going to tell me?”
He raised one eyebrow. “You might not like it.”
“Tell me,” I pleaded when faced with his continued silence.
He assessed me carefully, as if weighing up my possible reaction.
“Please?”
I could see the exact moment he decided to tell me. Mirth danced on his lips even as contrition battled in his gaze. “He asked how I’d managed to get lucky enough to score a partner with such a great rack for the assignment.”
I gasped. “He did not!”
Clay laughed harder. “He did. I knew that top would come in handy.” His eyes trailed over my chest again.
I looked down myself. “It’s not like there’s that much to look at,” I said confused.
“Never underestimate the power of boobs,” he said with a laugh. “Size doesn’t matter as much as how they’re displayed.”
“Did you just use my body to get us through security easier?”
He had the decency to look contrite, even as he argued, “Well, it worked didn’t it?”
Brushing his palm across the back of his neck, he watched my reaction carefully.
I rolled my eyes. “Next time, can you at least let me know that you’re going to do it?”
“Yes, Ma’am.”
He wrapped his arms around my waist and pulled my body flush with his.
“Are you very upset with me?” he asked.
I leaned into him. “I don’t know if I’d say very.”
“How can I ever make it up to you?” He pressed his mouth against mine before tentatively brushing his tongue along my lower lip.
“I can think of a few ways,” I murmured as I ran my fingers into his hair.
Despite the emotions his closeness elicited in me, something was not right. Pinpricks of fear started at the base of my spine, replacing the desire from moments earlier. My limbs grew heavy and despair filled me. The sensation was one I’d experienced before and had learned to associate with proximity to my hunter. My teeth ground together in response.
Clay’s body stiffened against mine, instantly on edge as my skin heated in his hold. He pulled away from me. “What is it?”
“Someone’s watching us,” I murmured. It was the same sensation I’d had every single time I’d felt threatened. “Do you think Louise knows we’re here?”
He shook his head. “Not a chance. Come, let’s sit and see what we can see.”
We took a seat near our gate and watched the people passing by as the crowds swelled before thinning again. My eyes scanned regularly for any familiar face, constantly expecting someone to leap forward with a gun aimed squarely at me.
Fifteen minutes had passed and the sensation was as strong as ever, only now a queasy sickness in my stomach and a burning in my limbs accompanied it. Something was going to happen, I just didn’t know what or when.
I scanned the area again and saw him—the tall hooded man draped in black, the one I’d seen the night I’d become certain Clay was hunting me.
“There!” I whispered to Clay, nudging him and trying to point out the direction of the man without being obvious. “That man. I’ve seen him before.”
Clay’s head instantly twisted in the direction I indicated. “Where is he?”
I looked back and the figure was gone. “I could have sworn there was a man there.” I craned my neck to see if he’d just disappeared into the crowd, but I knew it was impossible. The man had to have been at least six and a half feet tall—maybe taller—he’d towered over everyone when I’d glimpsed him. He couldn’t just be gone. Waves of shivers swept through my body at the thought of how often I’d caught a single glance of the man before he’d just disappeared. I wished I knew how, and why. “I thought he was working with you the last time I saw him.”
“What did he look like?” Clay asked as he peered at the crowd.
“He was tall, really tall.”
“And what else?”
“He was wearing a black suit, or a black robe maybe. I don’t know, I’ve never been able to get a really good look at him.”
“Hair? Eyes?”
“I don’t know,” I said. “He’s always in my periphery. He seems to disappear as soon as I try to focus on him.”
Clay frowned before moving closer to me. “I don’t like the sound of that.”
“What?” I asked as the hairs on my body stood to attention at the quiet danger his voice hinted at.
“If you see him again, let me know.”
“What is it?” I asked.
“I’m not sure, it might be nothing.” His voice had shifted. His tone was soothing as he stroked my arms gently. But he didn’t relax. In fact, his eyes roamed the departures area regularly.
An hour later, without any further sight of the man or any more terrifying incidents, we were loaded onto the plane. Once I’d entered the small cabin, I wondered how people willingly traveled that way regularly. Because there were so many seats, all squeezed so tightly together, there was no way for neighbors to avoid touching one another.
Clay followed behind me and pointed toward the back of the plane.
“We’re down there. I made sure you have a window seat.”
I headed in the direction he pointed, down toward the back of the plane, before taking another glance at my boarding pass. Climbing over the rest of the seats in our row, I was glad we’d be prepared and had boarded early. If I’d had to climb over another passenger, I was certain they would have noticed the heat emanating from my body and would probably have mentioned it to the stewards.
“Evie, your bag?” Clay chuckled when I had settled into my seat.
“Huh?”
“You need to stow your baggage for the trip.” He held his hand out for my backpack.
I wasn’t sure I liked the idea of putting my limited worldly possessions into a tiny cabinet, hidden away with everyone else’s.
“Can’t I just hold it on my lap?”
He shook his head. “Not if you don’t want to draw attention to yourself.”
Reluctantly, I passed my bag over to him, and he stored it with his own in the overhead locker above us. I took the seat closest to the window, and Clay slid in alongside me, tucking his arm over my shoulder.
“How long are we on this thing for?”
“Ten hours, give or take,” he murmured.
I tried not to panic at his words, but I failed spectacularly.
“Try to get some sleep if you can.”
I sighed, thinking how impossible that would be. I couldn’t even use sedation like some other travelers because it would burn out of my system before it really took effect.
Clay seemed to understand my concern and leaned closer to me, wrapping his arm around my shoulder. Any length of time stuck in a tiny metal tube flying ridiculously high in the sky wasn’t my idea of a good time.
Ten hours stuck next to Clay though . . . well, that wasn’t so terrible.
IN THE instant the plane had landed in Paris, a rush of happiness hit me. Not only was I going to be escaping from the death trap that posed as a means of transportation before long, but it also signaled the beginning of something new. For the first time since my father’s death, I was truly at peace and happy. Having Clay not just on my side, but by my side, only added to my euphoria.
I didn’t feel like I needed to watch over my shoulder as the plane taxied toward the terminal. It wasn’t that I thought we’d escaped persecution; in fact, the opposite was true, but I didn’t feel an immediate threat.
Discussing it on the plane in hushed whispers, both Clay and I had agreed it would only be a matter of time before someone discovered the truth. We both realized that despite the apparent evidence to the contrary, like the devastation caused by the fires in the national park—from both my fall and the subsequent wendigo fight—I was still alive.
I was positive that when that news came out the Rain would learn that Ethan was covering for us and he’d assisted in our escape from the States. Clay was certain his brother wouldn’t give us up lightly though.
Even though I had my initial misgivings, the fact we’d made it to Europe without any major incident did make me trust Ethan’s word, at least a little more than I had the first time he’d visited the hospital. I hoped that even if someone discovered the truth, Clay and I would now have enough of a head start that we would remain safe.
Once the plane had taxied from the runway to the terminal, Clay retrieved our bags but indicated we should wait before disembarking. On his insistence, we were the second to last people to leave the plane, but as we trailed behind the bumping and hustling crowds ahead, I understood why Clay wanted to wait—at the very least it meant I wasn’t likely to bump against anyone in the confined space.
Traveling back through customs was almost as stressful as it had been when we’d left America. Once again, Clay had me ensure the dove around my neck was on display as he shepherded us into the particular queue he wanted to go through. He spoke briefly with the customs official in halting French and then we were free. I wanted to wrap my arms around his neck in celebration, but I didn’t want to risk tipping anyone off to the fact that we’d just managed successfully to run a gauntlet that should have been impossible. My deeply ingrained mistrust of authority made me think they were all watching and waiting for us to screw up, but I knew it wouldn’t matter soon enough.
After we’d escaped the second round of customs with relative ease, I questioned Clay on why the Rain operatives were so willing to wave us through without any solid information. The first time I could almost understand, but for it to happen twice was too much of a coincidence, unless there was something else I was missing.
At first, Clay was reluctant to tell me but soon realized I wasn’t going to relent.
“That symbol is only used under two circumstances these days, ceremonially and by certain families,” he eventually said, touching the pendant.
I waited for him to continue, but he stopped. “Why?”
“It represents the aristocracy for want of a better word. The elite families who have been members of the Rain for time untold.”
“Why do you have it then?” I asked without thinking. “Wouldn’t you get in trouble for—”
The look on Clay’s face silenced me immediately. He had it because he was entitled to it. He wasn’t impersonating the elite—he was the elite. Once again, I grew amazed that he’d been able to fight off so much prejudice that had to be deeply instilled into him.
He snorted at my surprised expression. “I’m really not sure whether I should be insulted that you think so little of me.”
“It’s not that,” I argued. “It’s just . . . It just surprises me, that’s all.”
“That’s why my family isn’t very sympathetic toward nonhumans generally. The years that the Jacob’s line has served the Rain are exceeded only by the number of lives that have been lost in the service.”
The way he said it was almost like he was reading from a textbook, something he’d learned by rote years ago, but the truth of it was horrifying. The notion raced down my spine carrying a cold shiver with it. I closed the small gap between us and hugged him close to me.
“Thank you,” I murmured.
He tipped his head to one side. “For what?”
“For seeing past all of that, for loving me, and allowing me to love you.”
He released a soft chuckle that barely carried on his breath. “There was never another choice for me.”
Despite the uncertainty about the future, when the moment came that I stepped out of the Paris Charles de Gaulle Airport into a cool autumn night, with thousands of miles between me and the one person who wanted me dead above everything else, I couldn’t have been any happier.
CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE
“I HOPE YOU don’t mind, but I’ve lined up a ride already,” Clay said, pulling me from my thoughts. He wasn’t looking at me, though; he was st
aring at a spot somewhere farther down the length of the terminal.
I craned my neck to see whatever it was he was looking at. “A ride?”
A short full-figured lady, at least twenty years older than us, bounced over to Clay. She wore a pair of light-colored slacks and a sky-blue collared shirt, clearly dressed for slightly warmer climates than the current Paris evening. The pale shades against her dark-olive skin made her complexion glow, as if she carried around the sun that had kissed her golden-brown.
“Is she here?” the woman asked Clay as she closed in on us. Her voice was rich and deep. Even in the three words she’d spoken, an accent I couldn’t recognize colored her English. Her uncontained enthusiasm burst through every syllable though.
Looking around Clay, she spotted me. Her eyes locked onto me, and her mouth split into a wide grin. She practically clapped with excitement.
“Well, of course she is! She’s right there! Oh, it’s so obvious.” She clasped her hands over her mouth, and her eyes widened in what looked like joy. I could have been wrong, but it looked like tears glistened in her eyes.
I took a small step away from her bounding zeal. I’d never met anyone so enthusiastic before—and I’d lived with the fae for almost a year. It was a little overwhelming, especially after the stress of escaping the States and ten hours stuck on a plane.
Before I could escape, she grasped both of my hands in hers. The thick, black curls she’d piled into an uncontrolled bundle on the top of her head bobbled as she shook my hand vigorously. “I can’t tell you how thrilled I am to meet you.”
Clay chuckled, and I shot him a warning glare. He’d obviously expected the bundle of energy and had done nothing to warn me she’d be there. “Evie, meet Professor Zarita Cristou.”
“Professor?” I squeaked, still overwhelmed by her relentless energy. She definitely didn’t look like any professor I’d ever imagined. She was more like a puppy, bouncing excitedly between us.
I forced a smile onto my lips in response to her unbounded joy, but bringing another person into the equation worried me. Clay picked up on my concern and went to reassure me.
