by Dana Archer
Todd. I know that’s who Ilan’s referring to even if the term “breeding partner” isn’t one I understand. The loser who’d knocked up Mya, then kept messing with her head and her emotions is one man I was happy to see leave this world. “I’m not one to talk ill of the dead, but Todd dying was the best thing that ever happened to Mya and her girls.”
Ilan releases me and finishes putting on the diaper. He drags his finger down the baby’s arm to his hand. The little boy grips Ilan’s finger and stares into his face, transfixed by whatever is there in Ilan’s eyes. Standing behind him, I can’t see his expression.
“If it wasn’t specifically forbidden in the agreement I signed, Todd Silverman would’ve died by my hands long before his daughters ever saw the light of day.” Although Ilan’s voice is low and devoid of emotion, a chill runs down my spine.
“What agreement?” I know without being told I’m not going to like Ilan’s answer. My gut is churning already.
“The one that allowed death to pass over Mya, saving not only her life but those of Peyton, Rey, and the unborn babies she’s carrying now.”
The baby draws Ilan’s finger to his mouth and sucks on his knuckle. I recognize the sign. Ilan’s nephew is hungry. I should get a bottle warming. Instead, I push against Ilan’s shoulder until he turns slightly and meets my gaze. Nothing shows in his expression. The warmth he’d held moments ago, gone. “By death you mean you spared Mya’s life, don’t you?”
Ilan lifts his nephew into his arms, cradling him against his chest, and faces me. “I am death.”
Standing in front of my kneeling lover, I focus on my breathing. My flaring nostrils betray the wealth of emotions choking me. I push the negative ones away and focus on the man before me. Protector, lover, the other half of my soul, and… “Assassin. You’re an assassin, an angel of death. Ezra told me.”
Ilan glances toward the door to the first floor. “Did he now? What else did he say?”
“That angels of death are revered, treated as royalty.”
“At one point, we were revered.” Ilan caresses the baby’s cheek. “Not so much anymore. We’re considered aberrations, something that should be eliminated and never spoken of again.”
I stare at Ilan for a long time before my shoulders slump. The question I don’t want to ask but can’t ignore needs to be voiced. “You were sent here to kill Mya, weren’t you?”
Ilan pushes to his feet in a lithe move, the muscles in his chest and calves showcasing the strength he holds within him. Without answering me, he makes his way to the kitchen and pulls one of the prepared bottles from the refrigerator, then turns on the hot water. Steamy water flows from the tap after a moment.
I take the bottle from him, drop it in a cup of hot water, then face Ilan. Both man and baby are watching me with an intensity I want to wither under. I square my shoulders and focus on Ilan’s face. “Well? Aren’t you going to answer me?”
“Yes.” Ilan motions to me. “But you saved her.”
“Me?” While I’m glad I saved my friend’s life, I can’t imagine what it was I did. “What did I do?”
“Do you remember when we met?”
“Yes.” I swallow hard. “You came in looking for an application. One look at you and I knew you’d be applying for one of the bouncer positions.”
Brow raised, he studies me. “Did you?”
A smile tugs at my lips despite the reason we’re revisiting this memory. “You fit the image of a tough guy with your dark clothes, sunglasses, and confident stance. I felt at ease the moment your gaze landed on me, as if your very presence was enough to bring me peace.” Mya, on the other hand, had slunk behind me. If I hadn’t been holding her hand, she might’ve run.
Ilan’s hungry gaze maps the length of my body before meeting my eyes. “You were wearing a tight half shirt and shorts that barely covered your bottom.”
I smirk. “The old dress code at the Black Widow was a lot different from the one in place today.”
“Josh changed many things that first year he owned the bar.”
All for the better too. “Including hiring bouncers.”
“I’m lucky there was an opening. I needed a reason to stay close to Mya.” Ilan dips his chin and focuses on me from behind his lashes. “Part of the agreement, not because I wanted to spend time with her.”
I never got any vibe from either of them they were attracted to one another. “You became friends.”
Ilan shrugs and glances at the little boy in his arms. “She needed one, and her girls needed a shifter male in their lives. I filled both roles while guaranteeing another angel of death wouldn’t be sent out to end Mya’s life.”
“Why?” I leave the question open-ended. There are many things I’d like to ask. I’d rather hear the answers Ilan’s willing to share. On one hand, this conversation is disturbing knowing my lover…my mate…had been sent here to kill my friend. On the other hand, Ilan’s confession that he remained in this town, a part of Mya’s life, in order to protect her upholds the picture I’ve painted of Ilan. He’s a hero, if not a slightly wicked and dark one.
“Because of you.”
He already implied this but never finished telling me why. “Because of me?”
Ilan steps closer to me while the baby he’s holding turns his head and slobbers on Ilan’s chest. “My wolves recognized you as our true mate the moment I saw you. I didn’t believe them. That’s why I disturbed the two of you. It wasn’t to get an application, though the open bouncer position did come in handy. I wanted to talk to you. Look into your eyes. Confirm what my wolves insisted. That we’d found our heaven.”
The anger returns. I tamp it down, refusing to allow bitterness to ruin this moment. Ilan’s talking to me, sharing intimate details about his motives and leading me to only one conclusion. “I’m the reason you didn’t kill Mya.”
Ilan dips his chin once. “You were crying. Mya was crying. There was no way I’d be able to complete my task. The two of you triggered my protective instincts.”
“I stopped crying after you left and was able to get through to Mya. She was talking about killing herself, saying Todd dirtied her. That he ruined her and stole her future. Made it so she’d never be happy.”
“And I collected the evidence from her parents’ house proving Mya didn’t deserve the death sentence handed out to her. The only condition was I remain close to her, ensuring she didn’t betray our species’ secret.”
The baby lets out a wail, his patience gone. I grab the bottle from the lukewarm water and mix the formula, then shake several droplets on my wrist, testing the temperature.
Ilan’s holding the crying baby out to me when I turn. Shaking my head, I point to the living room with the bottle. “You’re feeding the baby. I need to clean up the mess you made.”
“I don’t know how to feed a baby.”
“You didn’t know how to change a diaper either, but you managed just fine.” Even if he left disaster in his wake. “You got this too.”
With a smile on my face, I pat Ilan’s arm, then turn my back on him and head to the living room. Ilan follows me. I don’t need to turn around to see. I feel him, like a familiar shadow, my own personal guardian angel.
He snags my hand as I set the bottle on the end table. “I didn’t expect to like you, Sara, but I do. I like you.” The intensity in his gaze deepens. “As a person. You understand?”
I roll my eyes to hide how much his surprised and somewhat shocked tone warms me. The assassin who’s claimed me, who believes love is a lie, likes me. If he wasn’t looking at me so intently, I’d fist pump the air and do a happy dance. As it is, I can’t stop my smile.
“Considering I’m your true mate and will be spending eternity with you, I’m glad.” I tense as another thought surfaces. “I am going to spend eternity with you, right? Because that would really suck if I learn I have an immortal true mate and I only get to enjoy you for a few decades.”
Ilan traces my cheek with the back of his han
d. “We don’t have forever yet, but we will. Soon, my little mate. Soon.”
I touch my cheek as he settles on the recliner. My skin tingles, and the craving for his touch builds. This isn’t the time for it, though. There’s one more question left to ask.
Once Ilan’s seated, I adjust the baby in his arms, test the formula temperature one more time, then brush the nipple against the newborn’s lips. He latches on, and I motion to the bottle with a jerk of my chin. “Hold the bottle, just like this. Don’t push the nipple into his mouth and don’t let him suck on air. Tip the bottle so formula fills the nipple. Got it?”
Ilan nods, then grips the bottle, holding it more firmly than necessary, but I don’t correct him. Seeing this strong man—this deadly assassin—caring for his nephew is a beautiful sight. I sneak covetous glances at the man I’ve always felt belonged to me and set to work cleaning the room.
After the last folded diaper is stacked in the corner of the couch for easy access, I turn to Ilan. “See? You’re a natural. If I didn’t know better, I’d assume you’ve taken care of lots of babies.”
Ilan studies the newborn he’s holding. “I never thought I’d be holding my twin’s son or raising him as mine, but that’s this child’s fate. He’s stuck with me. My alpha is locked away somewhere, probably awaiting his death. When it comes, the fate of my pack will rest on my shoulders.”
Although Ilan delivers his statement without any hint of emotion, I ache for him. “You don’t have anyone else in your…your family?”
“My pack is my family. And no, none I know about. This kid’s it.”
No mention of Jarah. He might not be blood related, but the way Ezra spoke of him, Jarah is important to Ilan.
I hunch down in front of Ilan and study the nameless newborn, his eyes closed and formula dribbling from the corner of his mouth. “Then you should probably give your nephew a name so he knows he belongs here with us.”
“Soren.” Ilan eases the bottle from the baby’s mouth. “Soren Kane.”
“Soren is a beautiful name.” I raise my gaze to Ilan’s. “I bet your father will think so too. Jarah called here yesterday asking if you’d picked one yet.”
Sixteen
Ilan
Every inch of my body tenses. Sheer will stops any other outward sign of my apprehension. I stand and carry the sleeping baby to the bassinet. Soren sighs as I lay him down. With his stomach full and the fresh diaper I struggled getting on him, he’s content. I need him to stay that way. I can’t assess the threat to him until I know there is one. With Jarah involved, it can go either way.
Sara’s small home doesn’t allow for many options for privacy, however. This floor consists of a kitchen, living room, bedroom, and bathroom. That’s it. The first floor is an odd combination of exercise equipment, television, couch, bathroom, then the closed-off furnace area. With Ezra downstairs, the kitchen is our best option. I won’t discuss death in Sara’s bedroom or take it outside, where her neighbors are waking for the day.
Without looking at Sara, I make my way to the kitchen and pull out the supplies for coffee. Sara drinks more of this addicting drink than I’d rather she consume, but she loves the taste. Black, no sugar, is her preferred method for getting her caffeine fix. I might not have spoken to Sara, but I’ve made enough pots at the bar to know her preference.
The percolator lets out a hiss before the water gurgles, the color of the liquid darkening as it bubbles in the glass dome lid. With the task done and my emotions tightened down, I face my mate. “Tell me about Jarah’s call.”
Sara grips the edge of a kitchen chair. “He called yesterday morning saying he was a friend and wanting to know what you named the baby. I didn’t admit to having Soren here with me, but I’m confident he knew he was here. Jarah even guessed he was sleeping in the living room because it was the only one without windows.”
Curses whip through me. Jaw clenched, I keep the expletives inside. Sara doesn’t use such language. I won’t force her to listen to it from me.
“He’s here. Watching us.” Maybe even saw me bite her.
“Was, I’d say. He wanted me to pack up Soren and meet him at a bar. Crescent Moon Tavern. It’s in Charleston somewhere. I don’t really know where. I’ve never been there, but Ezra told me he’d go with me if I wanted to escape death.” A pleading look settles in her eyes. “But I didn’t, obviously. I’m here. I won’t let you face danger alone. Death, actually. That’s what Jarah said is coming for you.”
Death.
Ice slithers into my veins as fury winds its way into my muscles, leaving me enraged. My nostrils flare on harsh breaths. Sara doesn’t retreat in the face of my anger, but she curls her fingers around the wood tight enough to whiten her knuckles. The sign of her anxiety compounds the emotion bleeding from the piece of her soul I own. I close my eyes and focus on reining in my wrath over the knowledge one of my own brothers among the Host will turn on me.
“What did Jarah mean by that?” Sara leans over the chair and whispers, “Ezra said you are death.”
“Coming from Jarah, there’s only one way to take it.” I meet Sara’s concerned gaze. “An assassin has been given my name and scent. Death…one of my fellow brothers in the Host of angels…is coming for me.”
Sara swallows hard. “Why would you be targeted?”
I make my way to the windows and close the blinds. I can’t guarantee there’s not an angel watching us. “I betrayed the most basic rule of our group by allowing my target to live.”
“Mya?”
“Yes.” No use giving Sara time to adjust to being an assassin’s mate. Fate has dropped her headfirst into the darkest aspects of my world. And she’s not running. She had the chance to flee, with my nephew. Instead, she stayed, hoping to help me or protect me.
Confusion paints itself on Sara’s warm, expressive face. “Mya’s one of the sweetest people I know. I still don’t understand why she would’ve been framed.”
“I don't understand the reasoning either.” I cover Sara’s hands, hoping to comfort her. “But I do know that if the Host had reviewed her case properly, they would’ve reached the same conclusion I did once I looked into the accusations brought against her. She was framed.”
“Who would do that to her?”
I drag my fingertips over Sara’s cheek, a simple caress and one I could never indulge in before because I’d hoped to save her. So much for that. Instead of saving my true mate, I might’ve sentenced her to an eternity of longing for me if I can’t beat the assassin who’s been given my name and scent.
“I asked but never got any answers when I questioned why her case didn’t get due justice. I didn’t push the issue, though. The Shifter Council, our governing body, and Shifter Affairs, the group that polices all shifters”—I add the descriptions for Sara’s benefit—“reached an agreement, which the Host accepted. It worked out in Mya’s favor. As far as I was concerned, that was all that mattered.”
“And my benefit.” Sara covers my hand so we’re both cupping her cheek. “It brought us together.”
For a long moment, I stare into the face of my true mate. The look in her eyes is different from the one I’ve come to expect from her. Instead of longing and need, there’s something deeper in her eyes. I know what it is—love. It wells in her soul, spreading outward and seeping into mine. I just never expected the soft emotion to carry its own strength.
“How can you look at me like this? With such love in your eyes?” I hope sincerity shows in my expression. I want her answer. “You know what I am. An assassin. A bringer of death.” I lean closer, lowering my voice. “I’ve killed thousands of humans and shifters over my long life. Their blood is on my hands, Sara. Their screams live on in my soul.”
“Are you trying to convince me you’re evil?”
“No.” That was something she had to decide for herself, because I don’t have an answer. If I’m evil, I’m evil. I won’t pretend to be anything else. The blood of my targets is a part of me. “I’m tr
ying to understand how you can stand before me, looking at me the way you are, knowing what I am, what I’ve done.”
“I believe in love, Ilan.”
“And I believe in power, Sara.” The harsh bite to my voice is meant to be punishing. The force of her love never wavers.
“Power, love… They’re one and the same.”
The conviction in Sara’s statement tempts me to believe her. Except, I know the truth. I’m suffering the effects of it right now as I look into Sara’s eyes. Her love is reawakening mine, what I thought I’d buried deep with my selfish act of stealing her soul. I can’t help but want to protect her. There’s only one way left for me to do so—refusing to complete our soul bond.
I brush my thumb over Sara’s soft lips. “If death beats me, you won’t die with me. You’ll have the rest of this life, then an eternity of future ones to live and find love with another man.”
Sara stands on her tiptoes and slides her fingers around the back of my neck. With a firm tug, she draws me closer, her mouth a hairbreadth from mine. “Then you better not let death win, Ilan. I refuse to face an eternity of what I’ve experienced since meeting you.”
“You won’t remember me in another life.”
“My soul will. Won’t it?”
“Yes.” I can’t lie to my true mate.
She moves her hands to my shoulders, the threatening look in her eyes chilling, and repeats her demand. “Then you better not let death win, Ilan.”
Soul-bonding to Sara will turn me into the ultimate warrior, making me almost godlike. That’s the gift given to all shifters. Power. Mine is right in front of me. All I have to do is finish our bond, giving her a piece of my soul and allowing my wolves to tie themselves to Sara’s soul too, but if I fail, Sara loses too. Her eternity, gone. She’ll never be reborn, never get to hold a baby again, never feel the light of the sun on her skin.
