Now what to do? Run and hide or admit to staring? Oh hell, he knew she was watching and it wasn’t as if she could avoid Mr. Can’t-leave-you-alone-for-more-than-an-hour. Better to just fess up and take the embarrassment now.
Raising a tentative hand, she waved at him from the window. A half smile curled his lips as he waved back. Her heart did a stupid pitter-patter. What was wrong with her? It wasn’t as if she had never seen a man’s chest before. Hell, she had seen much more than that in her twenty-six years.
Celia stepped away from the window and the tempting man outside. There, she had been caught, admitted it, and hopefully neither of them would speak about this embarrassing incident again…ever. Walking across the room, she turned off the lights. The room plunged into darkness. A sliver of moonlight through the window highlighted the bed.
Celia stripped off her clothes and slipped under the covers. She always slept best naked. Clothing just felt confining at times. She used clothing as armor during the day, to hide her secrets from the world, but at night, she wanted freedom. The silk sheets felt smooth and silky against her skin. She would sleep tonight. Too bad she would probably dream about Damien. A warm, tingling sensation curled her toes as the image of a half-naked Damien entered her mind. Then again, dreaming of the sexy Daemon leader might not be so bad.
Chapter 4
Damn, damn, damn! Why can’t I figure this out?
Celia pulled off her glasses and threw them on the desk in frustration. She had been up since six this morning trying to decode the rest of the Kako message. Hours of decoding turned into days. They didn’t have days, hell they didn’t even have hours. Every minute the new Kakos remained free was one minute too many. She tried not to let it get to her; after all there had been Kakos and other beings preying on humans for centuries, but this new Drone situation was just so horrific.
Celia had spoken to Krista a few times in the past two weeks. The girl had grown from child to adult all the while lying in a bed unable to move yet witness to horrific atrocities done by a being who used her soul as a power source for evil. Celia knew what it was like having someone take your power. It sucked.
Krista seemed to adjust fairly well. It helped that the girl also saw good things. Like her family visiting her over those ten years. A strange phenomenon, this out of body soul splitting vision Drones apparently had. One she ached to sink her teeth into and research, but that had to wait. She needed to decode this language in a way that made it easy for everyone to understand.
Taking hours to translate one sentence would not be helpful. If she could figure out the tricks of the language, she could put it into an easily translatable format all Enforcers could quickly learn. If they knew what their enemy was saying, it would help take them down.
She had a master’s in linguistics. It shouldn’t be this difficult. Something blocked her, keeping her from figuring out the formula of the language. Every language had a formula, a pattern. Once discovered, that pattern made the language simpler to learn. But this Kako language appeared to have no pattern. No rules, no system it followed, almost as if the language itself constantly changed.
Celia laid her head down in her arms on the desk, failure rising like floodwaters inside her. One thing she did not do well was fail.
“I guess this is a bad time to ask if you have gotten any further on the translation.”
Her head popped up at the deep baritone voice. Damien. She felt a flush warm her cheeks as she stared at him, remembering how he looked last night shirtless and glistening with sweat. They heated even further remembering getting caught looking. She grabbed her glasses and shoved them on.
“No. I mean, no I haven’t gotten any further.”
Damien took the seat in front of her desk. His tempting mouth turned down.
“Would it help if I had some of the scientists downstairs look at it?”
Region eight, much like region seven, housed most of their operations underneath the main house. While to an outsider, it looked like any other two-story Victorian-era house, underneath lay a massive network of labs, training rooms, and holding cells. Celia worked in the lab under region seven’s council headquarters. When she first arrived at region eight, she expected to go to the basement, but Damien had set her up in one of the few offices in the actual house. It did not take her long to realize he put her there so he had easier access to her progress. Too bad there wasn’t any.
“Does anyone downstairs have in-depth knowledge of languages, specifically dead and ancient Demon languages?”
Celia was fluent in Latin, but Demon, well they didn’t teach that one in school.
Damien scowled—good lord even his scowl was attractive—shaking his head. He leaned forward and placed his elbows on his starched dark blue slacks. His gray collared shirt had the top two buttons undone. Remembering the way he looked last night with no shirt on, her mind unbuttoned a few more.
Damn, she had to stop thinking like this. Shaking herself mentally, Celia said, “Well, then it wouldn’t help, but thanks for the offer.”
He opened his mouth to respond, but a ringing sound from his pocket cut him off. He mumbled an apology to Celia, fished in his pocket, and brought out a sleek black cell phone. Rising from his seat, he crossed the room, putting the phone to his ear.
“Damien.” He paused, listening to the caller on the other end. “How far out?”
Another pause, and then a look, directed at her. “Yes. Is there a problem?”
He continued staring at her. The intense focus of his gaze made her squirm uncomfortably in her seat. His face gave away no emotion. Celia had no idea who was on the line, but she had a feeling from the way he looked at her, the caller had business with her.
Damien finished the call and pocketed his phone. He walked back to her, but this time instead of retaking his seat, he came around the desk and stood beside her chair. She had to swivel in order to look directly at him.
“That was Saint,” he explained.
Celia remembered Saint. He was an Enforcer under Damien who came to help region seven with their Kako problem a few weeks ago. If she remembered correctly, the man was a Shapeshifter. She only met him a few times, but he seemed pleasant. So why did Damien look so unpleasant?
“He saw Racine.”
“Racine?” Unease swirled in her gut. Bracing herself for bad news, she sat up in her seat. “Why?”
“He will explain. He’ll arrive within the hour.”
Saint met with Racine? Why? And what did it have to do with her?
****
Damien saw the array of emotions pass over Celia’s delicate face. He wished he could set her mind at ease, but he couldn’t. Bad news was best delivered from the direct source; the source would arrive in less than an hour.
“Come on.” He stretched his hand out toward her. “Let’s get something to eat in the kitchen.”
When Celia hesitated, he pressed. “It will help distract you. Plus, I’m sure you forgot to eat lunch today. Again.”
“What time is it?”
He smiled, amused at how she became so engrossed in her work that she forgot time entirely. Rather adorable. “Two-thirty in the afternoon.”
Her lips tilted up as she returned his grin. “No wonder I’m hungry.”
“Let’s go take care of that then.”
His hand was still out, waiting to help her out of her chair. He noticed she hesitated taking it, as she had the night before. Once again, it made him curious. Why was she so hesitant to touch him? Did he do something to offend her—other than breathing down her neck impatiently waiting for her to translate a very difficult language that appeared to drive her insane?
After a moment or two, she reached out, placing it in his. Once she stood on her feet, she immediately let go. It bothered him more than he wanted to admit that Celia apparently did not enjoy touching him. He certainly enjoyed touching her. Maybe that was the problem. Perhaps, Celia had noticed his attraction to her and it made her uncomfortable.
> The thought made him feel even worse. He never wanted to push unwanted attention onto a woman. He couldn’t remember the last time he was attracted to a woman enough to pursue her. Damien felt a definite attraction to Celia, but also something more. With the sexy Witch, his body tensed with…urges, cravings. Maybe he just needed to get laid. It had been a few years, or decades. Being a head of council took a huge amount of dedication. He rarely had time or the desire to find a bedmate.
He motioned with his hand for her to precede him. She moved around him—obviously being careful not to touch him—past the desk and to the door. Damien followed her, giving her enough space so as not to make her feel uncomfortable again. He thought he felt something between them, a mild attraction at least, but perhaps only one sided. Then again, he had caught her staring at him last night while he trained with Alex. She stood two-stories up and the darkness of night surrounded her, but Damien saw the interest in her eyes. So why was she so skittish now? Was she embarrassed?
They left her temporary office and headed down the hall toward the kitchen. The chef he staffed during the day had already left for the night but Cuthbert always kept the fridge and pantry stocked full and when asked—politely and with a smidge of flattery—the old man would whip up something for anyone as he’d done last night for Celia. No matter what one wanted, there always seemed to be the ingredients for it.
The kitchen looked like any other household kitchen: pantry, stove, refrigerator, oven, sink. Most of the Enforcers and lab staff took their meals outside headquarters. When they arrived in the kitchen, Alex was there. The large Enforcer bent over the oven, pulling out a dish. Heavenly aromas wafted from the meal.
“Please tell me you made enough to share,” Damien said as the big man turned around.
Alex smiled, holding the casserole dish up and inhaling deeply.
“Potato ratatouille, my mama’s famous recipe and yes, there’s always enough to go around.”
Damien turned and motioned to Celia. “Alexander, this is Celia Dahl. She’s the one Racine sent to help us figure out this new Kako language. Celia, this is Alexander Arnason.”
“Call me Alex; everyone else does.”
Alex held the casserole dish in one hand and extended the other to Celia. The Witch glanced at his hand briefly and once more Damien saw her hesitation, almost as if afraid to shake the Enforcer’s hand. He watched, enthralled, as she quickly grabbed two potholders from the counter and reached for the hot dish, completely ignoring Alex’s extended hand.
“Here, let me help you with that.” She took the dish from him as Alex, looking a bit befuddled, dropped his outstretched hand. “It’s so hot. Didn’t you burn yourself?”
The Enforcer smiled at her, lifting his hand. His large palm colored light blue from the thin covering of ice he produced through his pores in order to retrieve the dish without burning his skin. Celia stared in fascination as Alex brought forth more ice from his palm until ice encased his hand, preserving it like a sculpture in glass.
She placed the ratatouille on the counter, stepping closer to Alex, but not close enough to touch him. The fascination on her face lit her eyes so they resembled two sparkling emeralds.
“Rime Thurs,” she whispered under her breath reverently.
Alex laughed. Damien knew the big guy was used to people’s surprise at discovering his species. In the supernatural world, so many varieties existed one rarely interacted with all the races. While there were plenty of Witches, Shifters, Daemons and Vamps, Frost Giants—or Rime Thurs as they were traditionally known—were a rare breed. Especially those who lived south of Alaska, Rime Thurs typically preferred colder climates.
Damien met Alex a few decades back while tracking a rogue Werewolf across the Canadian wilderness. The wolf got the drop on him and almost killed him, would have if Alex hadn’t been nearby and intervened. After Alex helped Damien kill the rogue, he invited the Frost Giant to come work for him. Alex agreed and had been Damien’s right-hand man ever since.
“Forgive me.” A sweet blush stained her cheeks. “But I’ve never met a Rime Thurs. I was under the impression your kind did not like warmer climates.”
Alex laughed. “Well, this isn’t exactly Florida. Plus, Damien made me an offer I couldn’t refuse.”
The corners of her mouth quirked up at his movie reference.
Alex and Damien set about grabbing plates and drinks while Celia grabbed some napkins from the countertop. They settled at the small kitchen table. The food was indeed delicious. So good, they ate silently until halfway through the meal.
“So how’s the translating going?” Alex asked, breaking the silence.
Celia groaned.
“That well, huh?”
“It’s taking longer than it should to translate. I deciphered the base languages so it should be easy to translate, but it’s not.” She pushed her empty plate away. Her glasses slipped down her nose and she adjusted them with a finger. “I know it sounds strange, but it is almost as if the words reconfigure themselves. It’s like the pattern changes constantly. Which is absurd because language has rules, otherwise no one would ever learn to communicate.”
“You have made progress.” Damien felt a strange need to defend her even though he was the one riding her so hard to finish faster. He suppressed a groan when he realized his inner statement was filled with a double entendre he did not want to delve into at the moment.
Celia gave him a small smile saying she knew he was full of it. “Not fast enough.”
She stood, taking her plate to the sink. Grabbing Alex’s and his own, he followed. They had a small housekeeping staff, but everyone tried to clean up after themselves. Not many people lived at council headquarters full time, but there were always people staying for short periods. Damien, of course, lived there full time as head of the council. Alex also had a room along with Cuthbert and a few others.
Celia rinsed off her plate and set it in the dishwasher. Alex grabbed the dirty prep dishes on the counter and stacked those as well. Damien noticed again how Celia was careful not to touch Alex as they placed their dishes in the dishwasher. Now that he thought back on it, he realized he had never seen Celia touch anyone. Except me. His mind pondered the significance of that.
“That was delicious, Alex.” She smiled at the Rime Thurs.
Alex gave her a lazy grin. “I’ll tell Mom you said so.”
An unsettling feeling hit Damien right in the gut as he watched the two interact. If he didn’t know any better, he would call it jealousy, which was ridiculous. Damien did not get jealous. Celia was not his to be jealous over anyway. He had no claim on the Witch. Didn’t seem to stop his stupid emotions from thinking he did.
Cuthbert interrupted his thoughts when he walked into the kitchen and informed Damien Saint had arrived. He noticed Celia’s body tense as they left the kitchen. He wished he could reassure her, but the news was not good. Racine had discovered the identity of the mole in his midst, and Celia’s world was about to turn upside down.
Chapter 5
The short walk down the hallway to Damien’s office seemed to take an eternity. Celia had no idea what news Saint had for her, but if Racine sent him, it had to be big. Big and bad. Why had Racine not just called her? What could be so important—or devastating—that she had to hear it in person from a messenger? Whatever it was, she would find out in less than a minute.
Damien opened his office door and ushered her in. Saint already waited inside. The Shapeshifter stood at the window. He turned when she entered the room, a sad smile on his face.
Not a good sign. “Saint, nice to see you again.”
“I wish the circumstances were better.”
Celia tensed. Worse than bad, atrocious. The Enforcer’s stance told her so and the way he wouldn’t meet her eyes directly. Pity tainted his mannerisms. Why pity? She needed to know, now.
“What’s happened?” Best to be direct and just get on with it. No one had ever accused her of being timid, quiet maybe, but n
ever timid.
Saint looked her in the eye, finally, and nodded. The sympathy in his gaze replaced with respect for her determination to hear devastating news. He took a few steps forward and sank into one of the chairs. She remained standing. Though she could not see him, Celia felt Damien standing behind her. He also chose not to sit. His presence grounded her, giving her strength. She wasn’t sure if he intended the action, but she was grateful for it.
Saint took a deep breath and then launched into it. “Racine discovered the identity of the mole.”
Breath caught in her throat, she froze. She knew they had a mole in the region seven council. A traitor among them would explain how the Kakos knew so much about the Enforcers’ plans to take them down. Someone on the inside fed the Kakos information. When they all realized it had to be one of their own, everyone felt betrayed. No one ever wanted to be deceived by family and that was what each council represented, a family. Some of the people there Celia had known for years. It felt like a knife to the gut just thinking someone she trusted and cared for had betrayed them all.
“Who is it?”
Saint gave her another sympathetic look before uttering one word. “Cory.”
Shock hitting her full force, her knees gave out. She would have gone down if not for Damien. He grabbed her elbow, steadying her. Cory? Her assistant? Young, sweet, smart Cory who had been her assistant for over a year now? Cory whom Celia had handpicked out of all the lab workers to personally assist her with running the lab. It didn’t make sense. Why? Why would Cory betray them?
“Cory?” She just couldn’t wrap her brain around it. Her multiple-degree-achieving brain.
Saint nodded solemnly. “I’m afraid so.”
Damien, hand still grasping her elbow, guided her to the couch and eased her down on the cushions, taking a seat next to her.
“How…why?” The concept was too difficult for her to understand.
Saint glanced at Damien. A nod from his boss and the Enforcer focused back on her. “Bucky was cleaning your office last night and she found a cell phone. Thinking it was yours, she picked it up to send it to you.”
Daemon Deception Page 3