by Celia Kyle
Elle glanced at him, relieved to see that Charlie hadn’t bounded to her mate’s other shoulder to get away from her. It hurt to be ignored by the quasti, her one salvation over the years. It’d hurt even more if he was so close and still pretended she didn’t exist.
She snuggled into Ivoth’s side, taking comfort in their tight embrace and the feeling of safety that imbued her by being beneath his wing. Warriors protected what they cherished most in that way.
“Let’s go, then.”
Ivoth nodded, and the mantle of warrior fell over him. He straightened, shoulders back and tension imbuing his entire body. “Brukr, Radoo, lead. Argan, Triem, follow. We do not stop for any reason.”
As one, they spoke together. “As ordered.”
They quickly repositioned themselves, making a small pocket at their center for Ivoth and Elle. Then they were on the move, striding down the hallway of Preor Tower and toward the elevator that would take them to Hell.
Or rather, a meeting with her father.
“Penelope, status.” Ivoth spoke again, and the ship immediately responded.
“Shit’s looking wicked awesome.” Elle chuckled at the ship’s Boston accent-tinted response. “Shit sandwich with a side of shit fries are waiting for your arrival.”
“And?” Ivoth rumbled.
“And Liquid Knot deactivated my offense systems on the first floor.” The ship whined and mumbled, sounding more like a petulant child than a technologically advanced Preor ship.
Elle’s low chuckle turned into an outright laugh, one that carried her to the elevator and through their trip to the ground floor. Unfortunately, it didn’t last long enough to get her into a room with her father and brother.
No, the closer they drew to the secured space, the quicker her laughter died, finally vanishing with a low cough. Then they were there, standing in front of the large swath of metal—the only thing separating their group from her family. And… and part of her wanted to back away from that space, turn on her heel, and run until she was anywhere but there.
Davenports weren’t weaklings. They didn’t know the meaning of the word fear. The world trembled around them, they did not tremble.
“Shaa kouva, we can return…”
She shook her head. “No. I want him to look me in the eye and tell me he tried to have me killed.” And she wanted to know if her brother was part of it all. “Penelope, open the door.”
The panels silently parted, opening to reveal a sparsely decorated conference room. A long, large table occupied the center of the space, backless chairs surrounding the rectangle, and at the head of the table sat her father.
Smug. Cocky. Self-important. She used to fear him and ache for his approval. Now he just made her sad.
Her father narrowed his eyes, shooting her a harsh glare, and she tilted her chin up, standing tall beneath his obvious anger. He could scowl all he wanted. It wasn’t his approval she sought. Not anymore.
Elle strode into the room, Ivoth keeping pace though he no longer touched her. That didn’t mean he’d pulled his wing back though. The swath of green still curled around her, an obvious sign of his protection. Her steps were silent on the thick carpet, low-heeled shoes sinking into the plush flooring.
She kept her pace even, not too fast but not too slow. Davenports didn’t rush or drag their feet. That automatic reminder had her wanting to kick off her shoes and run barefoot across the room.
But she didn’t. She could save that for later—once she’d learned all she needed and was done with William Davenport.
Elle stopped at the empty seat near her father, choosing to remain standing rather than lower herself to the chair. This wasn’t about niceties.
“Father.” She bit off the word. Her opening volley. Quick and concise. A welcome and acknowledgement in one.
“Elle.” His return was equally short. While others would look at him and think he was annoyed by being dragged to Preor Tower, she knew better.
The vein at his temple throbbed, and the tiniest sheen decorated his upper lip. He was scared. Of her? Of the Preor?
Really, did it matter? His fear had no bearing on the conversation.
She turned her attention to her younger brother. He hadn’t yet learned the art of concealment, and his fear was a tangible, living thing wrapped around him. Fear of the Preor or because he’d gotten caught?
Had he been the one to cause some…
No. A stupid line of thought. He wasn’t even born when things were at their worst.
“Ben.” She tilted her head in welcome. He got more than her father. Not much, but more.
“Bennett,” William snapped, and the rasp of metal against katoth sliced through the air. A gleaming metal sword soon followed and the owner rested the tip on the conference table.
The owner… her mate.
William’s pupils dilated, but he didn’t reveal any other hint of fear.
“It would be best if you didn’t raise your voice.” She tilted her head to indicate Ivoth. “My mate doesn’t appreciate your tone.”
“Mate?” Ben’s eyes opened wide.
“Mate?” Her father rasped at the same time.
“Yes, mate.” She jerked her head in a short nod to punctuate her statement.
“You can’t have a mate.” He’d quickly shaken off his surprise and verbally attacked her. “Your genetics are too weak. Your biological integrity is extremely poor. I’m sure the Preor healers have discovered that you’re useless.”
Another slide of metal and katoth; this time the blade belonged to Argan at their right. The same Argan who’d been told he was useless—broken—for decades.
“You are useless.” Argan placed the tip of his blade mere inches from her father’s chest. “She is not. She was a friend of Preor before she became of the Preor.”
“Elle?” Ben’s confused voice followed Argan’s, and she glanced at him long enough to see his bewildered frown. “Father?”
And her father ignored everyone. Everyone but her. “Your mother was useless and you’re just like her. You had a purpose at Daven Bio, but you betrayed the family.” He straightened further, staring at her down his nose. “A Davenport’s loyalty is absolute.”
“Really?” Elle quirked a brow. “You nearly set off a cleanse flare in my apartment while I was still in it.”
“He wouldn’t have released it, Elle.” Ben shifted his weight and moved forward the tiniest bit. “You have to understand. You’re working for our direct competitor. That can’t continue. It makes the family look bad to the board. It affects stock prices.”
“Right.” She refocused on William. “So you wouldn’t have released the cleanse flare, but what about the attack on my balcony? Getting shot at by ancient projectile weapons? Is that something you would do, William?”
“Are you okay?” Ben’s surprise and worry was genuine, and at least she wouldn’t have to worry about what the Preor would do to him.
“I’m fine because of my mate. He protected me, took every single hit so I wouldn’t be harmed.” And because she didn’t care about being a Davenport much anymore, she leaned into his side.
Her father looked unimpressed. “It seems whoever attempted to harm you was a poor shot,” he drawled.
“Possibly.” She nodded. “Of course, poor employee performance is not a reflection on the employee but the hiring director. Because he employed a less-than-stellar individual—someone unworthy. The individual that hired that shooter made a poor choice. He…” Her lips formed a mocking smile. To anyone who knew her, it was the epitome of sarcasm. “He made a mistake.”
“Davenports don’t make mistakes,” William snapped back.
“Of course not.” She opened her eyes wide, pure innocence in every single line of her expression. “And it surely wasn’t a Davenport who hired that,“ she sniffed and sneered, “individual.”
William grunted and murmured softly. “Had the best recommendations though.”
“Did you use the same man for the at
tack in the clearing?” She raised a single brow. “My mate would have questioned him, but,” she shrugged. “He was hungry.”
That was a tiny lie. The shooter was dead, but from a Preor’s flames, not teeth.
“He deserved it if he was that inept.”
“Father?” Ben took a step away from William. “Did you hire…”
“She’s standing right there, isn’t she? She’s alive.” William smoothed his suit jacket. “And since you’re mated to one of them, I want to negotiate with the war master person to become the exclusive—”
“No.” One word. A word she’d always wanted to say to him. Always.
“Elle…” Ben’s low voice held a warning she recognized.
“Really?” William raised his eyebrows and an amused smile toyed with his lips, but she knew it was all an act. He was furious and simply plotting his attack.
“Yes, really.” She reached into her suit jacket and withdrew the thin datapad tucked in an interior pocket. “In addition, you’ll transfer controlling interest of Daven Bio to Ben. Now.”
William shook his head and looked above her to address Ivoth. She could have warned him that was a mistake. Could have, but didn’t. “I informed you her biological integrity is lacking.”
“Lacking?” The lightest gray waft of smoke drifted her way, the initial hint of Ivoth’s fury making itself known. “Is that why you sought to end her life?”
“Why would a father want to harm his daughter?” He had the feigned shock and distress down. Plenty of practice over the years.
His behavior, the words and lies he’d tried to feed her, his cocky attitude, and the general assumption that he was above everyone else, had her asking the last question on her mind. She should probably leave well enough alone. She should take his twisted confession and move on with her life. The company would be in Ben’s hands, and William… She didn’t care what happened to him. He could be sent to Mars with Delaney’s parents as far as she was concerned.
“Why would a husband want to harm his wife and daughter?” Elle stepped from beneath Ivoth’s wing. This was the past, a pain that’d affected her then just as it would going forward. It was a pain that’d shaped her, and she wanted answers. “Why would a husband arrange for the death of his family, father?”
“I’m tired of your questioning, Elle. We’re done.” William stepped to the left, as if he’d somehow move behind Argan, but the Preor warrior wasn’t about to let her father leave.
He whipped out his second blade so fast, it was nothing but a blur of movement. Then William had two glistening swords pointed at him, Argan holding one in each hand, steadily directed at her father’s heart.
“Elle,” he barked. “Control your pets.”
William was so smart with some things—so stupid with others.
“Answer a question first. One question, and then you can leave.” Though she didn’t say how he’d depart. At his nod, she laid it out for him. She didn’t want—or need—a confession this time. She simply wanted the truth.
“Did you know my mother had Pol Mutation—that I had Pol Mutation—before that trip?” She didn’t have to define “that” for him.
William Davenport, President of Daven Bio and her father, glared at her—glared with so much hatred and venom that she thought she’d burn to a crisp beneath his heated stare.
But she didn’t cower. She didn’t back down or drop her gaze. No, she met him glare for glare, daring him to admit the truth. Daring him to spill the secret. He was so concerned about appearances and exuding strength. If he’d known of her mother’s Pol Mutation—of her own—he would have killed them. Elle’s survival was a hitch in his plan that he’d never been able to correct.
She just wanted him to say the words.
William remained quiet, fury etched into every line of his body, and the silence stretched from one heartbeat to the next and the next. She remained equally quiet, unwilling to break the stalemate. He would answer.
He wouldn’t walk out of the room until he did.
No one moved; no one twitched or even sniffed. Each warrior was motionless while her brother seemed held in place by shock.
William’s face reddened, deepening in color with each passing second until he finally growled—growled and snapped off a single word. “Yes.” But he wasn’t done. “Her bloodlines were pristine. From the best family. Then she had you and the truth came out.” He pointed at her, finger jabbing the air. “A Davenport is never anything less than perfect. You know that.”
“Our imperfection was worth killing us over.”
“Yes.” Another sharp word. “But you lived, and that damned quasti wouldn’t leave you, and so I was stuck. The best I could do was keep you out of the public eye and present the shareholders with a new heir.”
It should have hurt. The truth should have cut her into her soul and ripped out her heart. Her father had wanted—still wanted—her dead. But she couldn’t summon the emotions. Elle figured she must have always known in the back of her mind—in the depths of her heart—that he was responsible.
She simply had confirmation now, and that… that was enough.
Elle placed the datapad on the table and slowly slid it across the flat surface. And then the next… the next events happened in a tumbling whirl that stole her breath. Her father leapt at her, jumping across the space that separated them. A sneer distorted his face, pure hatred and rage coating his features, and she wondered if he’d simply lost his mind. Had things gotten that bad?
Ivoth roared, Argan snarled, more growls echoed theirs, and at the center of it all was William. William with death on his mind.
He stood in the middle of the chaos, and then he didn’t. Literally… wasn’t. Between one heartbeat and the next, he went from flying through the air to simply… gone.
Thick arms wrapped around her, and she found herself deposited at Ivoth’s back, his massive green wings spread to block her—protect her. The other warriors continued to growl and grumble, and Elle scanned the room. It was just her, the warriors, and Ben. Ben with Brukr’s sword at his throat.
“Where did the bastard son of a bezor go?” Argan snarled past elongated fangs, his fingers curling around the hilts of his blades so tightly his knuckles turned white.
“Where?” Brukr jostled Ben, and her brother shook his head.
“I don’t know. We were searched before we were let in. I have no idea how he got out.” Ben’s gaze swung to her. “Elle, tell him. Daven Bio’s transport tech isn’t advanced enough to relocate a person.”
It was true. They’d never quite gotten the settings right to handle a living being. “No, they’re not.”
But she knew of one piece of machinery that was capable of such a thing—one that had more and more awareness as each day passed. She wondered how long it’d be before she made her own choices and determined her own actions.
“Penelope?”
“Yes, Elle joi Ivoth? How may I assist you?”
Elle sighed. “Where is he?”
“I do not understand the question. Please restate.”
Oh, she tried to pretend, but even the ship had a tell. When Penelope didn’t want to reveal something, she fell back to her base code and stiff speech. “You do understand. Where is he?”
“I would like to remind you that Liquid Knot disabled my offense systems.”
“Uh-huh.” Elle propped her hands on her hips. “But you don’t need to fight someone who isn’t there. So where did you put him?”
“I would like to remind you that the sire and dam of Delaney joi Zadri Cole were similar in their treatment of Delaney.”
“I know that.” She tipped her head back. “But that still doesn’t tell me anything.”
“Elle?” Her brother grunted, and she flicked her attention to Brukr and Ben in enough time to see Brukr elbow her brother in the gut.
“Brukr, can you just hold him? You don’t have to hurt him. I don’t think…” She stared at her brother, her Ben. “He wasn’t invo
lved in my father’s schemes.”
“Are you certain? I could relocate Bennett Davenport to the same location—”
Elle dropped her head forward with a groan. Part of her didn’t care where her father ended up. He was an evil, disgusting, poor excuse for a human who deserved whatever Penelope devised. “What location, Penelope?”
“I would like to remind you…”
22
Elle’s father was gagged. Bound and gagged, trussed like a synturkey for Thanksgiving and held captive by a pair of Preor warriors. He still grunted and growled, shooting fierce glares at her while the males led him to a waiting short flight shuttle bound for Penelope. From there…
“This isn’t legal.” Ben stood nearby, but not at her side. Ivoth wouldn’t let her brother near her. In fact, he’d positioned both Argan and Triem in addition to himself. “You can’t just kidnap a human.”
Her heart twisted at her brother’s anger, his fury on their father’s behalf. Ben… acknowledged that their father should be punished for his actions, but he was still their father. A part of Ben still loved the man he’d thought William to be, and Elle almost hoped he’d never lose that—the dedication and devotion, the loyalty he was capable of feeling.
It meant their father hadn’t killed all hints of human emotion. Ben was just misguided.
“We’re not kidnapping him. He’s going to undergo a trial. If—”
Ivoth grunted. “When.”
“—found guilty, we will issue judgment.”
Ben focused on her. “You keep saying ‘we.’”
“Because I’m Preor now.” Ivoth squeezed her hip, his wing curling tightly around her and nudging her firmly into his side. His… She couldn’t believe it, still had trouble accepting the truth, but it was his love that flowed between them. “I’m Ivoth’s mate. His crimes—”
“Alleged.” Ben pressed his lips together.
So young. Early twenties and still looking at their father like a god.
