by Kali Argent
Staring at a fixed point on the floor, Deke took several deep breaths while he focused on his heart rate. As the rhythm slowed, colors bloomed throughout his surrounding again, and the deafening noises of the city quieted to a low, steady murmur.
“What was that?” Roux returned the napkin holder to the table and fisted her hands on her hips. “Are you okay?”
He couldn’t explain what had happened without delving into topics best left for another day. “I’m fine.”
“Good.” Nodding, she doubled up her fist and punched him right in the stomach. “Don’t kiss me again.”
A soft smile played on her lips as she turned away, a smile he hadn’t been meant to see, and one that solidified what he’d already known. She could pretend all she wanted, but she wasn’t nearly as unaffected by him as she pretended to be. No matter what he’d promised, he couldn’t let her go, not at sundown, not ever. Whatever he had to do, whatever it took to make her stay, he’d convince her. If he planned to succeed, he’d need a lot more than charm and persistence, though.
He needed backup.
“Mason!”
“Collins!” Peter yelled back sarcastically, rounding one of the square tables to join them.
“Is Abby working today?”
Peter crossed his arms and nodded. “Of course.” His gaze slid sideways to Roux. “Why are you staring at me like that?”
“Your tattoo.” Roux’s gaze settled on Peter’s wrist where a crescent moon and four stars had been inked into his skin. Her eyebrows drew together, and she glanced at Deke from the corner of her eye. “What does it mean?”
Deke tensed, but Peter didn’t miss a beat.
“It’s the symbol of the Coalition,” he answered easily, shaking his sleeve down to cover the ink.
“It’s not,” she muttered, her scowl deepening. “That.” Jerking her thumb to the side, Roux jabbed the patch—a shaded silver star surrounded by a simple circle—on the sleeve of Deke’s uniform. “That’s the symbol of the Coalition. I’ve seen it before.”
“This isn’t the place,” Deke interrupted, casting his gaze around the bakery to make sure they were still alone and couldn’t be overheard. “Come on, we need to go.”
Roux looked between him and Peter, her jaw clenched in mutiny, but she only nodded. “I’ll get the coffees.”
“Where the hell did you find her?” Peter asked as he watched Roux march to the corner table to retrieve the remains of their order.
“Where I found her isn’t the problem.”
“She wants to leave,” Peter surmised.
“Of course.”
“And you think Abby is going to convince her to stay.” The corners of Peter’s brown eyes crinkled with amusement. “You fight dirty.”
Deke shrugged. “She’s worth the fight.”
CHAPTER FIVE
The city center had come alive while Roux had been inside the bakery. Sidewalk merchants set up around the fountain in the middle of the Square, their blankets and tables overflowing with all manner of goods from handcrafted jewelry to intricately woven blankets. Coalition guards also roamed the streets and sidewalks, easily identifiable by their uniforms—urban camouflage cargo pants, black T-shirts, and black, military boots.
She wanted to ask about the tattoo again, to find out what it meant. If Deke had been unwilling to discuss it inside an empty bakery, he certainly wouldn’t tell her anything while surrounded by curious ears.
“Is it a secret?” she asked, unable to let it go, but careful to not say anything damning.
“Yes,” he answered shortly, leading her past a table filled with beautiful, vibrant paintings.
“A dangerous one?” she pressed, using her coffee cup to cover her mouth as she spoke.
“Yes,” he answered again, nodding at another guard as they passed.
“Okay.”
His shoulders visibly relaxed, and he released a deep breath. “Just okay?”
Roux understood dangerous secrets all too well. “Will you tell me later?”
Deke nodded, taking a long sip of his coffee.
“Then, yes…okay.” Letting her attention drift to the vendors camped out around the fountain, Roux slowed until she came to a complete stop. “They’re human.”
“Mostly.” Deke stopped beside her and chuckled. “Did you really think we kept your kind in shackles and cages?”
Rolling her eyes at his reference to her “kind,” she gave him a shove to the shoulder to start him walking again. “Forget it.”
Laughter and conversation echoed through the Square, the sounds filled with happiness and solidarity. Friends embraced each other, mothers chased their children down the sidewalk, and humans greeted guards with warm, genuine smiles. Roux hadn’t seen anything like it, but then again, she’d spent most of her time avoiding populated areas. The few cities she had seen, however, had been nothing more than cesspools of pain and misery.
“Where are we going?” she asked, forcing those nightmarish memories to the back of her mind.
“There’s someone I want you to meet.”
“No.” Roux stopped again and squared her shoulders. “I’m not meeting anyone else or parading through the streets like a dancing monkey until you take me to see the rest of my group.”
“That’s funny,” Deke mused, dropping his paper cup into a nearby trash bin. “You’re concerned about them, but I’ve never heard you call them friends.”
“Because they’re not my friends.” She shrugged. “I don’t have friends.”
Deke’s broad shoulder shook as he laughed. “You keep telling yourself that, Roux Jennings. Maybe one day you’ll actually believe it.”
“Don’t pretend to know me.” Angry, she tossed her own cup into the trashcan with more force than necessary.
“That’s the second time you’ve said that to me, but I’m starting to think I know you better than you know yourself.” Advancing, Deke backed her against the brick wall of one of the shops and loomed over her. “If they’re only allies, why are you so insistent on seeing them? Why do you care what happens to them?”
Roux couldn’t think when he stood so close. Her gaze dropped from his eyes to his mouth, and her own lips tingled when she remembered the way he’d kissed her in the bakery. She couldn’t explain what had happened. One minute, she’d been furious, concocting various and imaginative ways to make him suffer. Then, her body had overruled her mind, and she’d kissed him back.
Worse, she wanted to do it again.
A rumble vibrated through Deke’s chest as he sniffed at the air between them, no doubt scenting her arousal. “Your heart is beating so fast.” Carefully, he cupped the side of her neck, pressing his thumb against the jumping vein on the side of her throat. “So fast,” he repeated, “like a hummingbird’s wings.”
Roux couldn’t think. He was too close, crowding her, muddling her thoughts.
“Do I make you nervous, Miss Jennings?”
A high-pitched, feminine scream reverberated through the Square, interrupting them and saving her the trouble of formulating a convincing lie.
“What was that?” Without waiting for a response, she shoved past Deke, scanning the cobblestone streets for the source of the commotion. “Why are you just standing there? You’re a cop. Go protect and serve.”
“I’m a soldier,” he corrected, still not moving off the sidewalk.
“Okay, well, get out there and…soldier.”
Snorting, Deke stepped out of the shade created by the overhead awning. “What exactly would you have me do?” His hands landed on the tops of her shoulders, and he turned her toward the street that led into the Square. “Should I rescue her?”
Roux looked up just in time to see a young woman with bouncing blonde curls jump into the waiting arms of a guard. Laughing, he lifted the squealing female into the air, spinning her in large sweeping circles, before slanting their mouths together.
“Dangerous, I kno
w,” Deke continued, his tone mocking. “I might need backup.”
Shaking off his hold, Roux turned and glared up at him. “You’re an ass.”
“No, kitten, you’re the one looking for shadows where they don’t exist.”
“I’m not—wait. Kitten?” She snorted. “The last I checked, you’re the one who turns into a cat.”
A shallow V formed between his eyes, and he crossed his arms over his chest. “I’m not some common housecat.” His upper lip curled, revealing his pointed canines, and he leaned toward her with a menacing snarl. “I’m a fucking panther.”
Despite the aggressive display of testosterone—or maybe because of it—Roux had to laugh at him. “Leave it to a man to argue about the size of his pussy.”
The seconds ticked by while Deke continued to glare at her. “You’re hilarious,” he said at last. “Now, do you want to see your friends or not?”
Uninterested in arguing terminology with him, Roux swiped a strand of loose hair back from her face and nodded. In reality, she hadn’t had “friends” since high school. She’d known people in her old life, some she’d even liked. Experience, however, especially in the months after the Purge, had taught her that the more she cared, the more people could use it against her.
“So, you don’t care about these people,” Deke mused, his tone gentler as he led her away from the city center. “You’re pretty adamant that you don’t have friends, and yet you risked a lot to try to protect them last night. Today, you’re hell-bent on getting to the Bastille to see them.”
Since he hadn’t technically asked a question, Roux stared straight ahead and did her best to ignore him. Just because she didn’t casually toss around the word “friend” didn’t mean she was indifferent to what happened to Cade and the others men.
“Tell me,” he continued, clearly amused, “if you really don’t care, why is this so important to you?”
“I owe them,” she answered, the words spilling from her lips before she’d registered the intention to say them. It wasn’t necessarily a lie, and it was the closest she could get to telling him the truth. “Especially Cade.”
“Cade?” Deke’s voice didn’t waver, but the cords in his neck strained. “Is he…yours?”
What had happened between her and Cade, it was in the past, and it had never been about anything more than a mutual release of tension. “No, he’s not mine, whatever that means. Like I said, I owe him, that’s it.”
Deke grunted, but he didn’t say anything further on the subject as he led her past the last brick building. Beyond the intersection, the cobblestone streets of the Square gave way to asphalt-paved roads lined on either side with newer, more modern shops. Jewelry, clothing, shoes, toys, electronics, appliances—the row of businesses contained everything she could possibly want, and some things she’d almost forgotten existed.
Past the stores with their gleaming windows and colorful displays, the blacktop curved to the south, opening to green fields and sparse forests. Atop the highest hill and surrounded by a black, iron fence sat a white, three-story mansion with towering columns and sprawling balconies.
Roux stared up at the pretentious house with an arched brow and wrinkled her nose. “That’s not excessive or anything.”
“The royals enjoy their luxuries.” With a shrug, Deke turned her away from the mansion, leading her in the opposite direction.
“Are they really royalty?”
“Yes and no.” He pointed toward a concrete building set into the mouth of the forest and nudged her toward it. “The Diavolos family is the oldest and wealthiest line of vampires in North America. They’re considered nobility amongst the paranormal community, but they aren’t royalty like you’d think of the title.”
Roux didn’t know how she could use the information, but she filed it away for future reference. “And this place?” she asked, nodding toward the stone building. “This is the Bastille?”
“That’s just what the guards call it. You can think of it like a holding center. When refugees come in—”
“You mean humans. When you kidnap humans and bring them here against their will, what happens after that?” Her irritation flared when he laughed at her. “What’s so funny?”
“You.” Deke shook his head as he urged her ahead of him. “After everything you’ve seen this morning, you still think this place is a prison.”
One hour didn’t erase the horrible things she’d seen during the past eighteen months. “Forgive me if I remain skeptical.”
Instead of debating her, Deke shook his head again and stepped forward to push open the huge, metal door. “There’s an infirmary in the basement,” he said as they entered a wide, sterile corridor. “You need to get that arm looked at before we leave.”
Roux ran her fingertips over the gauze bandage on her forearm. It didn’t hurt as much anymore, and the bleeding had stopped. The gash didn’t go deep enough to require stitches, and as long as she kept it clean, the risk of infection was minimal.
“I’m fine. It barely even hurts today.”
Deke said nothing.
At the end of the hallway, he pushed open a set of double, swinging doors to reveal a room that brought back memories of her high school cafeteria, right down to the deafening volume of noise. Long, collapsible tables with bench seats covered most of the gray and white checkered tiles, and dozens of people milled about the rectangular room.
The scent of freshly baked bread filled the dining hall, and Roux’s stomach gurgled, reminding her she’d walked out of the bakery without her breakfast. Food would have to wait, though.
“Why are we here?”
In answer, Deke pointed to a table against the far wall.
Secluded from everyone else, four men ate in complete silence, staring down at their trays as if they’d been force-fed broken glass. Showered, shaven, and dressed in borrowed clothes, they were barely recognizable as the same guys she’d left the previous night.
“Where’s Nevah?” She didn’t know Nevah well, didn’t even really like her, but she felt responsible for the woman. “Did something happen to her?”
“I’m sure she’s around here somewhere.”
She tensed at the evasive answer. Deke had known exactly where Cade and the others were in the cavernous room. Whether he could smell them, hear them, sense them, or whatever, she didn’t know, but it stood to reason he’d be able to use the same methods to find Nevah.
“Where is she?” Roux pressed.
“I told you, she’s—”
“That’s the first lie you’ve told me.” Now that she knew what it sounded like, she could confidently say he’d been telling the truth about the treatment of humans in Trinity Grove. “Where is she, Deke?”
Sighing, Deke rubbed the back of his neck while he scanned the cafeteria. “Not here.”
“Fine.” Roux gritted her teeth against the growing frustration. “Later.” She understood the need for secrecy, but the lack of answers grated on her already frayed nerves. “I’m going to talk to Cade.”
* * * *
Deke bit the inside of his cheek until he tasted blood. The female asked too many damn questions, and she was going to ruin everything if he couldn’t get her under control. Once again, he thought about honoring his promise to help her get out of the city. He rejected the idea just as quickly, though, his need to protect her outweighing his need to safeguard the mission.
Ideally, he’d find a way to do both, but that meant telling Roux everything, entrusting her with secrets that could potentially get her killed. So, he’d put her in danger to protect her. Somehow, his plan felt a little counterproductive.
Wanting to give Roux privacy with her friends—even if she wouldn’t admit they were friends—he moved to an unoccupied corner of the room and leaned against the wall. He tried to occupy his mind, to think about anything except her, but his gaze continuously drifted to the far side of the room.
He told himself he just wan
ted to keep an eye on her, make sure nothing happened to her. If his heart beat too fast, or his stomach clenched when she hugged the leader of the group, it didn’t mean anything. And if he focused his hearing until the roar of the room faded into white noise, allowing him to eavesdrop on Roux’s conversation…well, that didn’t mean anything, either.
“Denny, you’re looking dapper,” she greeted the older gentleman with glasses. “I see you have a new bowtie.”
She turned on the bench to look at the two men sitting across the table. “Greg, I don’t think I’ve ever seen your face before,” she said with a laugh.
“It’s different,” he answered, smoothing his palm along his jawline.
“He refused to get his hair cut, though,” the guy sitting beside him interjected. “I don’t know why. It looks like a fucking bird’s nest.”
“Brody!” Roux slapped at his hand where it rested on the tabletop. Then she sat back between the one she called Denny and the leader, Cade. “How are you? Are they treating you okay?”
“Forget us.” Grabbing her shoulders, Cade turned her to look at him, running one hand over her face and petting her hair with the other. “How are you? Did they hurt you? I really hoped you’d gotten away.”
Growling under his breath, Deke curled his fingers, squeezing his hands into fists against his thighs. Without warning, his fingernails erupted into inch-long daggers, the claws digging into the flesh of his palms, but he barely noticed the pain.
Or the blood that dripped from between his fingers.
“I’m okay,” Roux answered, leaning away from his touch.
Deke relaxed a little.
“What happened to your arm?” Ignoring her reaction, Cade took her hand, lifting it and stretching her arm so he could inspect the gauze-wrapped wound. “Did someone do this to you?”
Visions of slapping the asshole through the glass window flittered through Deke’s mind. It would be satisfying, but ultimately, it wouldn’t accomplish anything.
“I fell.” Gently, Roux removed her hand from his grasp and placed it in her lap. “It happened before we left the fishing shack last night.”
