by Gaja J. Kos
I placed a hand on his thigh and squeezed. “Don’t try to deny what you feel, even if it doesn’t make sense to you at the moment.”
“I know.” Alec’s shoulders slumped, a shudder spreading from him up my arm. “But I also don’t want to lead him on. What if we have a great time and I balk when things get heated? What if I can’t—”
“Be intimate with another man?” I offered.
Alec nodded. “I need your help.”
I grabbed a fresh can of Paulaner from the table and handed it to him. Once the familiar hiss cut through the space and the delicious scent of beer swirled through the room, I propped one elbow on the backrest and turned to Alec.
There was none of the usual steadfastness in his gaze. Nothing but uncertainty that made my heart ache.
Alec took a long, almost desperate sip, visibly struggling to pull himself together. I gave him the time to find some solid ground—time I, too, needed to think through what I was about to say.
Back in my early teens, when I started to become acutely aware of my bisexuality, Rose had delivered the pep talk of my life and helped quiet the doubts wriggling at the back of my mind. Of course, my situation was quite different from Alec’s since my sexuality didn’t sucker punch me right in my damn face. I fought the impulse to reach for him.
We were both affectionate and didn’t shy away from the comfort of touch, but there were occasions when the usual tactic did more harm than good.
My gut agreed that near but not touching was the way to go.
As Alec’s heartbeat began to calm, and his scent turned from agitated and fearful to a less volatile, though still caution-ridden, blend, I said, “I’ve always been attracted to people. Men, women, cis or trans, nonbinary, gender-fluid… Yes, the”—I pursed my lips as I searched for the right word—“texture of the attraction is different depending on the person’s gender, but the bottom line is that it’s who they are that counts. Maybe you’ve never been attracted to a cis man before, but that doesn’t mean you can’t be now.” I took a deep breath, willing the onslaught of passion rushing through my veins to back down. “What you’re feeling is valid, Alec. As far as sex goes… Maybe you could try talking to him before you get yourself all wound up about it? Jaxon seems like a great guy, and if he cares for you, I’m positive you’ll figure something out.”
Seconds passed with Alec staring into the distance, nodding. To me. To himself. To whatever thoughts rushed through his mind.
“You’re right.” He straightened and passed me the beer. “I’m creating scenarios in my head that might never happen. But”—he gave me a look—“so are you.”
“You mean with Melina?”
“Yeah. You should go talk to her, too.” He threw one arm over the backrest. “What if she doesn’t want to make you uncomfortable, wanting sex when you’ve already joined ICRA because of her? Maybe she fears you’ll turn her down. It was no big secret how much you hated the organization you’re now a part of.”
“But it was my choice. Melina didn’t hold a gun to my head.”
“No.” Alec’s smile held an edge of sorrow. “I think she believes she held something worse. The threat of her death.”
“Fuck.”
He was right. Melina could be guilt-tripping herself for something that wasn’t her fault. I could have let Isa handle the case, and she probably would have gotten the bastard on her own. But Melina didn’t see inside my head. She couldn’t understand the predator that had awoken within me and wanted to be unleashed. I took on that case because of her, yes.
But I did it for me.
“I’ll talk to Melina,” I said—and meant it.
The satisfaction of capturing scums like Svinimir, even killing, for that matter, was mine. As was my drive, my damn desire to hunt.
If Melina was beating herself up for altering the course of my life, she needed to know the truth.
I tipped the can back and drank deeply as one more thought sailed through my mind, as terrifying as it was undeniable.
If someone were to offer me a way out of ICRA now, my answer would be no.
Grateful for the sun that justified my oversized sunglasses, I pretended to take interest in my food while it was the woman across from me who held my attention.
To me, Melina was stunning in a way that went beyond her Fae and Vila heritage. But even more so, she had become a friend. Even if my breakup with Afanasiy would eventually prove to have scarred me so badly as to put me off not only relationships but casual sex as well, the least I could do was be honest with her.
“What?” she asked, her voice as melodic as always, yet making it perfectly clear she knew I was staring.
I ate the bit of fried chicken I’d had on my fork for far too long. “I’ve been thinking I haven’t been exactly good to you lately.”
The words sounded no better than they had in my head, but somehow, I couldn’t just blurt everything out in the middle of the patio where wine tinted the air and the tones of conversation from the surrounding tables were decidedly pleasant. If anything, I’d need a fenced biergarten with weather-worn tables to satisfy at least the minimum amount of comfort.
Though it was possible I agreed to this place just to have an excuse to drop the conversation.
“Okay, I can see you’re tormenting yourself, and that’s a scary thing to witness, Freundenberger.” Melina leveled her gaze on me. “So I’ll go first.”
She shook her head and shoulders as if casting off the remnants of hesitation, her hair a straight black cascade of silk brushing her summer-tanned skin under the midday sun. I mentally slapped myself before the mere visual of her stripped me of coherent thoughts.
The quick quirk of Melina’s full lips, however, hinted my inner struggle might not have been so inner after all.
“Lotte, I won’t lie,” she started, the humor fading. “What happened with Svinimir will stay with me for a long time. But I’m not fragile. I don’t break easily. I probably should have said this sooner, but later is better than never. Whatever it is, Lotte, whatever’s going on, just stop tiptoeing around me.”
I dropped my fork and reached over to take her hands in mine. “Gods, I’m sorry.”
“And now you’re making me feel worse.” Her voice was dry, but mirth touched the corners of her upswept eyes.
“Damn you,” I muttered with mock seriousness and snatched away my hands, then stabbed some chicken and boiled egg on my fork—this time with actual appetite.
Melina waited until I swallowed the food, patience reincarnate, then said, “I don’t care if you simply want to be friends or continue what we had before you met the Blade of Bastards. I’d just like to have you in my life.”
“The Blade of Bastards?” I arched an eyebrow. “Now that’s fitting.”
Afanasiy’s established moniker among demonkind was the Blade of Raya. Something he’d proven to be to a motherfucking fault when he supported her instead of intervening on my behalf. A choice that had ultimately led to our breakup.
“And well-earned,” Melina pointed out.
There was really nothing else to do but agree. On all accounts.
I speared some more food and stuffed it down while Melina motioned the waiter closer and asked him for two additional glasses of wine. When she returned her attention to me, her expression open and welcoming, I put away my sunglasses despite the blinding light.
No more hiding.
“You’re not fragile.” I reached for the dregs of my wine, fumbling with the glass’s stem. “And if you won’t allow me to apologize, then at least let me say that I fucked up treating you as if you were when I’ve actually been protecting my own ass.”
I brought the glass to my lips and let the Cabernet-Syrah swirl across my tongue. It did little to ameliorate the unpleasantly dry state of my damn mouth, but I needed the reprieve. Melina observed me in calm silence, though her curiosity seeped into the air.
Shit, why was it so hard to talk about this?
Grunting, I se
t the glass back on its coaster, then dropped my hands in my lap and gave myself a mental kick to jostle out the bloody words. “The thing is, ever since Afanasiy, I…haven’t really experienced attraction towards others.”
“Oh…” Melina’s eyes widened. “I had no idea. I’m sorry I presumed—”
“No, don’t be sorry. You didn’t presume wrong. You’re…”
I shut my mouth as a family of five ambled loudly past our table. The mom bringing up the rear bumped my chair and sent the glasses rattling as I steadied myself a bit roughly on the table. I really should have opted for a biergarten.
After a quick glare at the back of her head, I released the surge of anger that probably had more to do with my mental state than the woman’s rudeness, and focused on Melina once more, though I couldn’t quite meet her gaze. “You’re the only one I want, and it’s scaring the shit out of me.”
The rush of her emotions overpowered all other threads weaving through the patio and hit me with undiluted force.
Relief. Compassion.
Love.
I pushed on while I still had the strength. “But the thing is, I’m not sure if this…pull to be with Afanasiy will ever disappear. Lena told me it’s possible to walk away from your potential mate. But while the draw was strong when I was just a werewolf, now that I’m part demon…”
“You don’t know what will happen if he shows up in your life again?” Melina offered.
I flicked my gaze up to hers at last. To the understanding pooling there.
My heart was a fucked-up, shredded thing that wanted something good. Something solid, despite all the years of commitment issues I’d barely started to work through when I met Afanasiy. I just wasn’t sure if I was strong enough to resist the lure of the one person who made me more vulnerable than anyone had the right.
Much like Alec feared with Jaxon, I was horrified of the mere thought of stringing Melina along.
I opened my mouth to say as much when my phone screeched for attention.
“Sorry.” I winced and fished the damn thing out of the too-tight pocket of my shorts.
Just as I touched my thumb to the silent button, the name displayed on the screen gave me pause.
“Crap. I have to take this,” I said to Melina.
She waved me to go ahead, not a trace of annoyance on her face. Still, I hated myself just a bit as I tapped my finger against the screen and brought the phone to my ear.
“Freundenberger.”
“I need you to come in.” Kaatz’s voice crashed against my ear.
No pleasantries, just business. I wouldn’t have expected anything else from the vamp.
“I’m off duty, sir—”
“Now, Freundenberger.”
I was sweating by the time I entered the elevator and zoomed up to the eleventh floor. I’d jogged all the way over from the restaurant after apologizing profoundly to Melina for cutting our conversation short. Had circumstances been different, I would have blown off work—or at least took the time to wrap things up with her before booking it across town—but my instincts were determined that I got my butt to Kaatz’s office without delay.
It didn’t help that I’d decided to walk to the restaurant instead of riding my Vulcan. While I’d needed the time and simple motion of a stroll to clear my head, I would have killed for the rumble of my bike beneath me as I was forced to brave the July heat with basically zero shade the entire way over to ICRA HQ. Of all the times to break routine…
A thin string of tension marred the air as I hurried down the corridor. The closer I got to Kaatz’s closed door, the stronger the thread became, wrapping around me like a noose. If I were in wolf form, I was pretty sure my ears would have flattened against my head.
Something was very, very wrong.
With my memory of yesterday’s run-in with Kaatz spinning even more questions into existence, I hesitated by the threshold.
I wiped my sweaty brow and focused on calming my heartbeat, but didn’t get far when Kaatz called out, “Stop loitering, Freundenberger.”
Right.
The instant I opened the door, the already suffocating tension gave way to tensely coiled frustration. Kaatz sat behind his desk, his face a hard mask not even the sunlight bathing the office could soften.
I padded over to the single chair positioned across from him, but didn’t sit.
Kaatz didn’t ask me to, either.
He braced his forearms against the desk, revealing the glint of his gold watch beneath his shirt sleeves. “We’re flying you out to Berlin.”
“Berlin, sir?”
As far as I knew, Berlin’s ICRA faction had no shortage of agents. And given my fairly recent status with the organization, I’d never been the one they sent for any face-to-face meetings between branches if the situation called for it.
But while unexpected, jetting me off to Berlin didn’t explain the almost electric heaviness plaguing the atmosphere.
Kaatz tugged the sleeve over his watch. “The case I discussed yesterday with you and Agent Mayer—there has been a new development. A string of murders right in the heart of our capital.”
String of murders? That sounded like a fucking troublesome escalation from where I was standing.
“If things continue like this,” Kaatz went on, “ICRA will lose what purchase we have and shit’ll hit the fan.”
The already uncomfortable air in the office became unbearable. It stuck to my lungs, my skin, clogging my every damn pore until I felt as if I were wrapped in plastic.
I glanced at the tightly shut windows, then back at Kaatz. “With all due respect, sir, why are you sending me to Berlin?”
A mirthless smile touched his lips. “I’m not. The order came from Superintendent General Gabler. He’s giving you lead on the case.”
4
My butt hit the chair without me even realizing I’d moved.
I wasn’t even sure what part of the info Kaatz had just unleashed on me I should process first. Part of my brain was still stuck on the fact that there was a string of murders. But mostly, I was torn between the weight of responsibility investigating such a high-profile, hush-hush case brought and the sheer disbelief that the Superintendent General singled me out. Or had the order come from even higher up? The Inspector General himself?
In the end, a mix of all three tumbled from my mouth in a slightly too-fast jumble of words.
“The brass wants me to work a case I wasn’t even supposed to touch and had escalated overnight?” I unglued my thighs from the leather and inched forward until I could brace my hands on the moderately clutter-free space of desk before me. “Isn’t that more a Senior Agent kind of job?”
The displeased line Kaatz’s mouth flattened into showed he agreed. “It isn’t my call to make, Freundenberger. You’re a fine agent, but you’re still a rookie.”
No lie there.
“If it were up to me…” He drummed his fingers on the desk, the tap-tap-tap-tap punctuating his audible breaths.
What wasn’t he telling me?
“Sir?”
Kaatz’s gaze fell on me, but though the churn of thoughts painting his autumn gaze dark was unmistakable, I couldn’t decipher shit.
“Orders from the top were clear.” He pushed up and strode around the desk, towering over me. I remained glued to my seat. “It has to be you.”
Remaining true to today’s theme of walking ungodly distances in the heat, I didn’t head back the way I came once I left ICRA HQ behind. Nor did I veer to the nearest U-bahn, which would have probably been the wisest choice. I had a long day ahead of me, with even longer days, I suspected, coming up. Running myself ragged wouldn’t help anyone.
Yet at the same time, I had to move.
Kaatz had refused to divulge any more information about the case. Berlin would brief me once I landed. Needless to say, that was a damn paper-thin reassurance when it was painfully clear Kaatz knew a whole lot more than the shit he’d shared.
I hated going in bli
nd.
The small messenger bag bounced against my hip as I kept a moderate pace, braving the busy Munich streets under the near-blistering sun. I was pretty sure I sported a lovely sweat stain beneath my boobs, but since I couldn’t just let out my wolf and run, this really was the next best thing to keep me sane until I reached my parents’ place.
A quick call to Greta before I even left ICRA HQ secured her presence at the house, and with my flight scheduled for early this evening, I desperately needed the talk. Greta wasn’t just my sister. She’d been with the Agency basically since its inception right after the War. Even if our talk would lead to nothing constructive regarding the case, someone with as many years under the belt as Greta had tended to find the right words to steady a nervous agent.
I veered around a clutter of cheerful tourists and chose a less-traveled street to minimize the number of witnesses to the self-doubt I was pretty certain was written all over my forehead. I’d dealt with any confidence issues early on thanks to my tennis career. But this… This was a situation I hadn’t truly been in before.
A car honked just behind me—the guy in the passenger seat visibly leering at my bare legs. For fuck’s sake.
Even in the world where humans knew I could snap them like a twig, there were still assholes who believed it was their gods-given right to holler at a bit of skin.
Briefly, I contemplated chasing the two guys down as they sped away, but that would be a waste of precious energy. This walk was about as much as I could afford. Though truth be told, the spark of disgust at least threw me off the inner spiraling path my mind had seemed adamant to take. Only rogue strands of doubt continued to wrap around me, but with traffic getting denser the deeper we went into the afternoon, it was kind of hard to even hear myself think, let alone entertain an entire inner discussion.
