by Zoe Parker
She runs her hand over the marble desktop of the secretary’s workspace and appreciates the nice seating and open area. The file cabinets are tucked underneath the monstrous desk, out of sight, and within easy reach, while there’s also a brand-new coffee and tea maker in the small employee lounge just to the right. The carpet is a faded blue that reminds her of blue jeans, and the walls are a dull white that doesn’t look too bright but is bright enough to look clean and tidy.
For the low price, this is not what she was expecting. It’s barely double what Hank pays now and ten times nicer. That means only one thing.
Voss is mixed in this somehow.
How else could she find a place like this, empty and ready to go on such short notice?
“So, who do you think Voss killed to acquire this place in such a hurry?” Devil asks, floating by her to go into the bathroom next to the office chairs. Of course, he figured it out, not that she’s surprised. Devil comes off as an idiot sometimes to other people, but she knows better. Most of the time. There have been moments she, too, has her doubts.
This isn’t one of them.
Devil comes out of the bathroom and starts looking through the refrigerator in the break room.
“I doubt he killed someone, but he’s definitely involved.” She runs a finger across the computer monitor, thoughtfully provided, and sits in the chair that feels like a cloud to her butt. Hopefully, he didn’t kill someone just for an office, but she wouldn’t put it past him.
Voss is a powerful man and doesn’t mind making his point with violence. It’s scary to think that he might have used that particular part of his influence for something as simple as an office. That doesn’t mean she’s going to turn it down. Neither will she take the blame for any actions Voss took.
She carries enough guilt that doesn’t belong to her. She’s not about to add to the pile.
“I wonder if I can talk Hank into keeping this place. It has everything we need and might bring in more clients because of how nice it is,” she muses out loud.
“Maybe. Just show him how much the rent is, and he might go for it. We both know that Hank likes to pinch pennies,” Devil replies, coming to rest on the counter in front of her. She looks up at him.
“I’ll give it a shot. I like it here. There’s more security too. The wards on the front entrance are triple the strength of the ones used at the other office.” She figures that’s probably Voss’s doing as well. A bookstore wouldn’t employ such heavy-duty wards. “Since someone besides these crazy bastards is targeting us, I think the extra security is a good idea.”
After looking around for a few more minutes, she starts unpacking the few things she brought with her, including the laptop. She texts Hank the address and asks him to set up call forwarding and starts going through emails of potential clients.
Her eyes occasionally stray to the small stack of files sitting to her right, the serial murder victims’ files. The name, The Hand Murders, fits them. Thankfully, there aren’t any new murders, and the trail has gone cold. Mostly. She has her own avenue of investigation and is slowly but surely working on finding as much out as she can. The man she met with wasn’t the leader, and she is determined to figure out who is. The only way to kill a cult-snake is to cut off the head. Plus, the more she thinks about that meeting with him, the more she’s convinced that it was his decision to try and ambush her. Not the leader.
Either way, it wasn’t one of her best ideas.
She gets lost in her work and is slightly surprised when the front door gives a slight chime, that she didn’t notice when she entered, as Hank walks in looking as baffled by the place as she did. Standing, she smiles and gives a wave to the room around her.
“It’s nice, right?” she says.
“How much did this cost?” he demands, with no bite to his words. He likes it too, she can tell.
“About twice what you pay for the other office with more perks.” He nods and starts to wander around, heading to the largest office and sitting in the executive chair behind the executive desk. Propping his feet on the desk, he puts his hands behind his head, and it’s right then she knows that he’s hooked.
“That was easier than I expected,” Devil mutters, setting a flier for pizza in front of her in a blatant hint for food.
“Ask Hank what he wants and remember my pizza rules, Devil. Get drinks too. All that fridge has in it is healthy stuff, and I’m feeling the unhealthy vibe more today.” Thinking of unhealthy stuff, she starts the coffee pot and tea kettle. The day is going to be long; she senses it, and she needs a boost to get through it. Plus, she feels a Voss encounter approaching. His fingerprints are all over this, and his ego will insist on some type of recognition.
Hopefully, not today. She’ll have an entire office to unpack if Hank makes the choice he’s contemplating from the comfort of his fancy chair. The last thing in the world she needs is Voss to–
The door opens with a soft chime.
“Sonofabitch,” she mutters under her breath. She just had to go and jinx herself. But at the lack of skin tingles she normally feels in his presence, she looks up to find a delivery guy standing there awkwardly holding a large bouquet of white roses.
She hopes they’re for Hank.
“How can I help you?” she asks, crossing her fingers.
“I have a delivery for Sora Suen,” he announces, crossing the rest of the way to her desk. He places a tablet on the counter and asks for her signature. With a sigh, she uses her finger to sign the e-form and takes the flowers. He leaves with a salute, and she digs for the card.
Looking forward to our dinner date… soon. You choose the place, wear something sexy.
Ignoring the girl inside of her that stands up and cheers, she tosses the flowers and the card into the garbage.
“You probably just tossed a few hundred dollars in the bin,” Devil comments with a smirk. She shrugs. Wasn’t her money. “What did the card say?”
“I’m an arrogant asshole who wants to pick out your clothes.” Devil snorts in disbelief and digs the card out of the trash.
“Are you going to go?”
She sits down and spins in her chair. “Yeah, probably. It was kinda part of the deal.”
“What expensive place are you going to pick? I know a few that have excellent steak and lobster.” She stops spinning as an idea forms in her head. With a smile forming on her face, she looks at Devil.
“Burger Bargain Barn has a dollar menu.” At her suggestion, Devil busts out laughing, tossing the card back in the garbage can. “I used to love their burgers,” she says innocently, knowing that Voss is expecting a five-star restaurant while she’s planning on going to a half-star one.
“What sexy outfit do you plan on wearing?” Devil is in on the game now, making her plan all the more fun.
Bridging her fingers, she starts spinning the chair again, thinking. What’s something that Voss might possibly hate enough to cancel the date? She mentally goes through every piece of clothing she owns, and finally, her brain latches onto the perfect outfit for an unwanted date.
“I still have that pair of painting bibs I used when painting the apartment.” Said bibs are white, covered in splotches of various paint colors. There’s a hole ripped in the ass, and one of the pockets is missing.
“Roll up the pant legs, wear a pair of dirty combat boots, and you’ll be the sexiest date he’s ever had,” Devil teases. “I’ll even wear my pirate costume.” This makes her laugh outright. Devil went through a phase where he wore different accessories to try and enhance his appearance. None of them worked, he was still a floating skull, but they gave her hours of laughter at his expense.
“Deal. I wonder if I should blackout a few of my teeth?” she teases.
“Na, that’s overkill. Stick with what you have. Unless you want to fart a few times during dinner?” Devil suggests. There are limits to the extent she’ll play the embarrassing date, and that goes beyond them. She narrows her eyes at him and, laughing, he
orders their food.
At three o’clock on the dot, her mother starts calling her. Each call she ignores and sends to voicemail. The last thing in the world she wants to deal with right now is yet another lecture from her mother. After her parents’ stunt with Father John, she’s even less inclined to speak to her. Not to mention the awful ninja blind date she tried to set Sora up on.
She was fooled into thinking they were on her side after offering to sue Father John and defend her against him. Even after the date fiasco, she and her mother spoke cordially on the phone a few times, but then she started in again about getting married–even trying it with Daniel the Loser again. Her father has remained silent through the whole thing, but he’s kind of ignoring her too. Mostly to keep the peace with her mom. She gets it, but it still stings a bit. So, for now, she’s done with her parents.
Her eyes are drawn to the garbage can that crumpled white roses are poking out of almost accusingly. The guilt she expects to feel is absent, but the thoughts of Voss still stir up the same reactions. It’s annoying to her. Sure, she’s glad to know that she’s not broken from her life spent with Max and that she’s fully able to be attracted to other men and move forward. That doesn’t mean she’s happy about who this first step is with. Not because he isn’t beautiful; he’s so much so she nearly swoons. Not because he isn’t intelligent or wealthy; he’s got an abundance of both.
It’s genuinely because she’s not ready, and she has enough brains to know that.
Sora isn’t one of those people who can jump right back in the saddle when it comes to love. She needs time to heal, to rediscover who she really is. To invite someone like Voss fully into her life before any of that occurs is dooming their relationship before it even has a chance to begin. He’s all-encompassing. He’ll take over her life like a tsunami, and because she isn’t strong enough to separate him from her, she’ll just become a girlfriend, and all this hard-won independence and growth will be for nothing.
It’s not the lady doth protest too much. It’s the lady doth wanna wait longer.
The fact that shifters are so swayed by their baser natures concerns her when it comes to having a relationship with another one. Max threw away ten years for a woman he met mere minutes before sleeping with her. Ten years! What would it be like to fall into Voss and lose him that way? She can’t even imagine the pain of it properly. The glimpses of what she can is enough for her to put the brakes on being with him as much as possible.
Even if what Devil said is true and she’s his mate–something she has a hard time believing–there’s still the matter of his being the big boss of all shifters. They will always come first to him, and that’s great and all for a leader, but not for his girlfriend.
She’s become selfish enough that the idea of always being second doesn’t appeal to her in any way, shape or form. Not even for someone like Voss.
But then he does things like the flowers and riding to her rescue with the other alpha.
She runs a hand down her face. Something has to be done about this before her hormones completely override her common sense.
“Devil?” His name pulls him from the semi-nap he’s taking under her desk.
“You called?” He floats up, sleepy and yawning.
“You said there might be a way to block this thing with Voss?” He physically shakes himself, and his gaze goes past her to the garbage can with the flowers filling it.
“I did some reading up on it, made a few phone calls. If it’s some kind of magical mojo, that isn’t the soulmate bullshit, yes–a counterspell can help maybe even end it entirely. However, if it’s the genuine article, all it will do is dim it. The soulmate bond will draw him to you no matter what you do, and eventually, any countermeasures you take will wear off, and you’ll give into it.”
“I’m not a shifter, so I don’t get why I would be affected by a soulmate bond.”
“It’s rare for other supernatural species to be drawn into one but not completely unheard of. All creatures, even some humans, have something similar, but it stops with the blind idiocy. A shifter’s soulmate bond completely brainwashes those involved. The bond doesn’t let up until the mark has appeared, and they’ve fucked like rabid bunnies. That doesn’t mean it goes away, though. It just lessens.”
“Do you actually think that it’s real?” Most of her hopes it isn’t.
“I don’t know, Sora. He hasn’t indicated it is by trying to hike his leg and mark his territory, and for someone in the flush of a new bond, he’s spending a lot of time away from you.” He looks thoughtful as he says this, and the vise in her chest eases just a little bit. “Would that disappoint you?”
“Sure, I guess being the sole focus of someone like Voss has its appeal, but it also sounds exhausting. It will also be a constant struggle to matter to him beyond the fucking like rabid bunnies bit you mentioned. Then there’s the whole him being number one in the shifter world, and I definitely don’t want that mess.” She leans her elbows on the desk and stares blankly at the cartoon skull screensaver bouncing around the monitor screen. “Maybe ten years ago, I’d have jumped at the chance to have such an all-consuming thing with a hot guy, even having to deal with the shifter crap, but now…I dunno if that’s something I want anymore.” The truth boils up and out of her. “Honestly, Devil, I don’t know what I want except maybe room to breathe.”
He looks at her all serious, and she mentally braces herself. “As much as I tease you about having sex and pent up frustration from the ten years of boredom you had with Max, there might actually be some truth to it. Technically, you’ve been repressed your entire life, and maybe that rebellious teenager lurking inside of you has had enough of it and sees Voss as the perfect way to completely break out. Possibly feeding into whatever else is going on.”
She snorts out a laugh, but when he doesn’t respond in kind, she focuses her attention completely on him. “You’re serious?”
“Yeah, unfortunately. I think we all have a moment like that in our lives. Yours is just coming a decade or so later than most people.”
“Sounds like bullshit to me,” she says, scoffing. While in her mind, she’s trying to find the pain in the ass piece of her that’s having a puberty crisis at thirty-one. It’s bad enough if there’s magic or a soul bond, but to add that to the mix is too much. She should be able to control herself, hormones included.
Maybe she needs therapy. A lot of it, if this theme continues in her life.
His laughter is like a hammer shattering the walls of her thoughts. That sonofabitch.
“Devil!” He was fucking with her the entire time! Aggravated with him, she grabs a pen and tries to stab him with it. He’s so busy laughing at her that he almost doesn’t move in time.
“Hey! You’re getting better at stabbing things. I’m so proud!” This only incites her more, and when Hank clears his throat, she has Devil locked in her elbow, taping his mouth shut with scotch tape. She looks up guiltily and lets Devil drop to the ground.
“I worry for the two of you sometimes,” Hank comments, eyeing Devil rolling around on the ground laughing. Sora scoots Devil under her desk and sits up, trying to look like a secretary and not a rowdy teenager. “I think we might keep this place,” Hank muses, looking around the spacious front office. “It’s more professional and might make our clients feel more comfortable. Good pick.” He walks off before she can say anything to try and recover some dignity. She crosses her arms and looks down at Devil, smirking up at her, and smiles.
These moments with him are important to her, to them. Even if she’ll never say it out loud, she enjoys them.
“Okay, so my psychology was a little off… but I don’t think I’m completely wrong. You’re rebelling in little ways too, whether you realize it or not.”
“You basically said that I was being controlled by a horny, rebellious teenager, Devil.”
“Perhaps I was projecting a bit, but we both know that you’re not the same Sora you were a mere month ago.” She ca
n’t argue with that, so doesn’t. Instead, she tries to do something along the lines of work and planning to have everything moved to the office. She also emails Hank, because then he’ll remember and have no excuse for not doing it, to get someone to set more wards on the office, transfer the security system access, and that lunch will be arriving soon.
Feeling accomplished, she starts arranging things how she wants them and waits for the food. When her phone beeps, she absently looks down at it and sees a message from Voss. There’s a photo, and when she sees it, the broom in her hand falls to the floor.
He’s looking at the camera with a smirk on his face, holding a large bunch of bright pink balloons that say, I support Feminism. In his other hand is a card and written in big, bold letters is the phrase, Fuck off. Beneath it, Thanks for the flowers, fucker, love Devil.
The message is short and sweet.
I’ll support your feminism. Since you didn’t pick a day, I’ll pick you up Friday at seven.
“That arrogant prick,” she mumbles under her breath but also takes a second longer to look at his way-too-pretty face. Why does he have to be good looking? This would be so much easier if he looked like a bulldog.
“Ha! Voss got my thank you card.” Devil floats over to her and eyeballs the picture and message on her phone. “He’s rolling with it; I wasn’t entirely sure he would.”
“I think it encouraged him more than discouraged him, Devil.” She’s not sure which one she wanted more.
“It’s a reminder that I’m part of your life and one that he needs to accept. I’ll never go silent again, Sora.” There’s steel underlying his words, and that means he’s immovable on it. This strikes her right in the heart.
Surprising them both, she grabs him and kisses him right on the mouth before tossing him in the garbage can with the roses. He’s still so shocked that he’s laying on top of the white petals with his mouth hanging open. She’s still laughing when the pizza guy gets there and gives the glowing skull in the trashcan a bit of side-eye.
