House of Strife (Poisoned Houses Book 4)

by Lyn Forester

  I stare at them, not sure what I’m looking at. I’m not a tech person, as my crystal state folding-port reveals. When I purchased that device, I simply ordered what was the most expensive under the assumption it was the best. My first instinct is to do the same here, my focus shifting to the palm-port in the upper right corner. A gleam enters Skittles’ eyes as she notes where my attention landed, which causes me to hesitate.

  Nikola scoots to the edge of the loveseat and reaches into the case, lifting free one of the slender devices from the center. He turns it on, tapping away at the screen for a moment, before he sets it back down and lifts another closer to the bottom end of the price range.

  I settle back, more than happy to let someone with superior knowledge choose what we buy.

  Seeing her easy sale slip through her fingers, Skittles sighs and walks over to perch on the edge of the chair next to mine. She nudges my knee with the toe of her heavy boot. “I have a line on some new disc-bikes, if that tickles your fancy. We’ve missed you on the tracks.”

  My fingers flex with the instant desire to hold one, to feel its weight in my hands, to listen to the quiet clicks as it takes shape, then stand in the energy of its light-rings. I force the desire away with a shake of my head. “Nowhere to race where I’m at.”

  She tips her head toward the door. “There’s a ready lift whenever you want to escape. The streets are always open when the lights go out.”

  I shake my head again. “I don’t have the credits to support frivolous use of your elevator.”

  “Squandered all your winnings already?” The tattoos that cover her face make it difficult to read her expression, but her voice holds disappointment. “What happened to going to that halion school in Roen?”

  During the year I raced for Skittles, we’d had a lot of conversations, some of them including my dreams of leaving Leton. She’d known who I was when she signed me on and always encouraged me to follow my passion in life.

  I let my head settle on the soft back of the chair and study her. “It was too limiting.”

  She grins with appreciation. “I always thought you should aim higher.”

  “I’m aiming for the top now.”

  She nods. “Flying high comes with risk.”

  “The view is worth it.” I suck my cheeks in thought for a moment, then add, “But I wouldn’t mind looking at the disc-bikes. For when I’m flying free again.”

  She props both feet on the arm of my chair and leans forward in excitement. “Word is there’s a company working on a single-ring. After that trick Purple Strike pulled off in her last race, it got the techies’ minds working. It’s years away from reaching the market, but it’s being talked about.”

  I twist in my seat to face her, one leg pressed up against the arm. “That would be amazing. If a bike only needed one converter coil, it would be so light-weight.”

  “How fast it happens depends on funding, of course.” She pouts, the expression somewhat lost in the confusing field of crosses, hashes, and dots that cover her face. “But I’m sure, once they make it to market, everyone on Level 12 will be trading in their bikes for the new model.”

  “I’m sure you’re right.” We stare at each other for a moment before I relent. “I don’t suppose you know what company is in the lead on development.”

  “I don’t suppose I do.” She rubs her chin. “But I could, for a price. That kind of information takes a lot of leg work, and you’ll want proof.”

  “Obviously.” I’m not throwing credits into the void without some form of guarantee.

  She gives a decisive nod. “I’ve got some new shinies that need testing out. Let’s talk more next time.”

  By that, she could either mean new Night Pirate recruits or spy gadgets. Night Pirates slap the word shine on basically everything they find interesting. But I don’t ask for clarification. Skittles will get the name of the company however she needs to, without even demanding a deposit from me for the effort. That kind of insider information will make her a profit, even if she doesn’t sell it to me in the end.

  “We’ll take these items,” Nikola declares, and we look over to see he has two palm-ports and one folding-port stacked on the table, the cases now closed.

  Surprised, I unfold myself to sit on the edge of my seat. I didn’t even hear him open the other case.

  Skittles eyes them. “Sure you don’t want something more high-tech? They’re running those models on Level 8.”

  He meets her eyes, his gaze steady, voice firm. “These will suffice.”

  She shrugs. “It’s your ticket. Speaking of which...” She hops off her perch and rubs her palms together. “Let’s talk about price.”

  Belatedly, I realize she never put a cost on the devices in the case, just a range. But Nikola stands, hands loose at his side and a glint in his eye, ready to negotiate.

  While they haggle, I stand and wander over to the bar at the back. It offers a chilled pitcher of water, but will taking a glass add on to the cost of using Skittles’ lift? I’m thirsty, but it’s not too bad. I can wait until we return to APA.

  I check the time, worried we only have twenty minutes left before we need to go. Declan had been unsure if he would be able to escape Arrington Manor to meet us, but I held out hope.

  Then movement at the door catches my attention, and my heart leaps into my throat.

  I murmur something to Nikola and Skittles, but the two barely pay me any attention, too caught up in their negotiations.

  Hurrying to the door, I slip out into the hall and find Declan leaning against the wall.

  He looks better today, some of the color returning to his face and the bags under his eyes less pronounced. Nonetheless, I keep my touch light as I move to hug him, and his arms wrap around me with less strength than they did only a few weeks ago. Remorse pings through me to see our strong leader reduced to this fragile man before me in so little time.

  We hold each other in silence, just grateful to be back at each other’s side.

  But the clock continues to count down, no matter how much I wish for it to stop, and at last, I pull back to stare up at him. “How are things?”

  “Improving by the day.” He brushes the hair back from my face, his touch more tender than I’m used to from him. “Dominick woke up and the physician let him walk around his bedroom today. He made it through with only one stop to rest. He’s determined. We think he’ll be up to making a public appearance by next week.”

  My spirits lift, and I grin. “That’s fantastic!”

  “He’ll have to make a public statement about his absence, but after that, I’ll be able to return to APA.” He bends to press his forehead to my shoulder. “God, I never thought I’d be excited to say that. I actually want to be at APA right now. Acting as Dominick’s Secretary has been miserable. Even on his death bed, he rejects all my ideas. Everything has to be just the way he wants it.”

  And with that, my good mood plummets. This experience hasn’t instilled Declan with a sudden joy at being his brother’s right-hand man. Some part of me hoped, with Dominick sick and unable to make decisions for himself, that this would give Declan a chance to prove his value. That Dominick would give him a voice, if only a private one, in council decisions.

  Gently, I stroke Declan’s hair. “What will be the public statement about your parents and Ashley?”

  They can’t reveal the poison, and with Dominick’s health already a public concern, they can’t afford to claim further illness struck down sixty percent of the Arrington House. It will make their position as Fifth Council Seat too tenuous.

  He lifts his head, his golden-brown eyes bleak. “There’s a family shuttle. We’ll send it out for a pleasure cruise over the forests and arrange a technical malfunction. The service will be scheduled for the Summer-Cycle to allow the High Councilors from the other city stacks to schedule it into their agendas.”

  Such a neat and tidy end to their untimely deaths. My eyes sting for people I never knew. While I may not sh
ed a tear at my father’s passing, whenever that may be, Declan’s visible pain hurts to witness.

  I touch his hollow cheek. “I’m so sorry for your loss.”

  He cups my hand, turning his head to press a kiss against my palm. “Thank you.” He swallows hard. “It’s been difficult, with no one to talk to. The other staff don’t know anything, or are at least pretending to be blind. Dominick wasn’t even coherent enough to properly mourn them, and when he was...” He shakes his head, stubble rough against my skin. “I can’t tell if he even cares or if he’s relieved he no longer has to pretend to consider their advice before making decisions now. And Ashley was a political marriage to strengthen his standing. He’s glad she’s gone. He can just order an heir from one of the designers now that our parents aren’t demanding a natural birth.”

  I ache for him going through all this alone, cut off from the outside world and without any real way to contact us. If only I figured out his messages on the racer forum sooner, we could have been there for him.

  “I’m sorry.” He drops my hand to wrap his arm back around my shoulders. “I don’t mean to unload everything on you. It’s just been—”

  “It’s okay. I’m here for you. Connor and Felix are, too.” I squeeze him tighter. “And soon, you’ll be back with us again.”

  He nods, his head dropping once more until his forehead rests against mine. “I’m counting the hours.”

  “We’ll figure out everything else, too.” I take in a shaky breath, bracing myself for the next conversation. I hate to bring it up with his nerves so raw, but if we’re going to prove Mr. Blue poisoned the Arrington House, we need to talk discuss it. “About the night you were—”

  “I don’t want to talk about it,” he cuts me off, his voice gentle. “At least, not right now. It’s the only thing that’s been on my mind since it happened, and I just... I want to focus on something else while I’m with you, if that’s okay?”

  Urgency to solve the problem before it has time to worsen wars with the desire to allow Declan this much-needed respite. He’s lived with this all by himself, but if what we believe is true, the attack against his house is just the beginning. And with today’s experience at the bank, things may be even worse than we realized. If it continues to escalate, who knows where their next attack will fall.

  Regretful, I lean back from him. “No, this is—”

  His lips cut me off, preventing the rest of my words from escaping. Unlike our first kiss, he doesn’t immediately shove his tongue into my mouth, which is good, because I would have bitten it. I don’t approve of this method of silencing me.

  But I don’t pull back, either. I’ve missed Declan and need this moment to reconnect with him, to reassure myself he really will be okay.

  So, instead, I relax against him, my eyes closing, and he takes that as a sign of my acceptance. Gentle fingers trace my jaw, his thumbs brushing against my cheeks until I open willingly beneath him. After his kiss in the pantry, I’d questioned his skill, but he makes up for it now as he slowly explores my mouth. He seems unsure at first, as if kissing isn’t something he does often, and I slip my tongue against his in subtle invitation.

  He groans, a low sound that starts in his throat, then vibrates into my mouth, heating my blood. His touch becomes firmer, more self-assured, as he holds me in place, his head tilting to the side as he delves deeper. My heart races, tingles of awareness rushing to all my sensitive spots. My thighs press together to ease a growing ache, my nipples sensitive against the fabric of my blouse.

  Desire. An emotion that both thrills and terrifies me.

  A throat clears, and I break away, lips buzzing for the loss of Declan’s heat.

  Reluctant, I step back from him and turn to Nikola.

  His face is carefully devoid of emotion, his Secretary mask firmly in place as he holds out the folding-port and one of the palm-ports to Declan. “Here. For communication.”

  “Thank you.” Declan takes them from him as if nothing’s out of the ordinary, and for him, it’s not. He doesn’t know Nikola’s place in our group dynamic, doesn’t know the others have accepted him as one of our team. He steps forward and grasps Nikola’s arm. “I appreciate all that you’ve done for Caitlyn.”

  Nikola dips his head. “You trusted I would understand your message and get her here. It was a gamble.”

  Declan grins. “Not for the Spider of Tri-Worth!”

  The nickname sparks my interest, which deepens at the subtle displeasure that flickers across Nikola’s face, but before I can pry, he gestures back to the room. “We need to discuss the poisoning.” The displeasure comes again. “As I assume you were otherwise occupied and didn’t get around to it?”

  Declan’s arm settles heavy over my shoulders, and humor fills his voice. “You can’t fault Caitlyn. I asked her not to get into this.“ He presses a kiss against my temple. “We’ve been separated too long to make our reunion about unpleasantness.”

  I tilt my head to narrow my eyes on him. “Which is the only reason I allowed your barbaric tactics. This is the second time you’ve silenced me this way. There won’t be a third.”

  Some of the spark returns to his golden-brown eyes. “There’s my spitfire. Are you keeping Connor and Felix on their toes while I’m gone?”

  I turn my nose up. “Connor is a perfect gentleman.”

  “Which means Felix isn’t.” Hesitation fills his voice. “Have you guys—”

  “Continue that sentence and I’ll punch you in the throat,” I warn, only half-joking. I’ve never hit someone, but we’re not having this conversation.

  “Yes,” Nikola murmurs, reminding us of his presence. “The current rule is that what happens between Caitlyn and one of us remains confidential.”

  Declan stiffens, catching onto his wording fast. “One of us?”

  Sensing a dick measuring contest in the making, I step out from under Declan’s arm and nudge him toward the door. “Please, go inside. Skittles is there and I’m sure she’d like to say hello.”

  He resists at first, but something in my expression convinces him to leave me alone with Nikola for a moment.

  I wait until he vanishes into the office, then step up to my childhood friend. “For someone trained in diplomacy, you’re severely lacking.”

  Unrepentant black eyes meet mine. “This isn’t the time for subtlety. If I’m part of the team, he needs to be prepared.”

  My spine stiffens. “And you don’t trust me to tell him?”

  He lets silence be his answer.

  I step even closer, the warmth of his body pressing against me without us touching. “Jealousy doesn’t look good on you.”

  He leans down. “Hesitation doesn’t look good on you.”

  My hands curl into fists at my sides. “And what, exactly, do I tell him?

  His hand lifts, his fingers light on my cheek. “What do you tell him about me?”

  His thumb swipes across my bottom lip, the shock of his touch burning away Declan’s kiss. My heart races at the boldness, at his disregard for our stations. Here, in this hallway, we’re not Councilor and Secretary, we’re just two people circling ever closer to each other.

  His head dips, his next words a heated whisper against my parted lips. “Tell him that you want me, that you’re afraid of your desire. Tell him I plan to stay here in Leton, to be at your side, while he runs away.”

  Nikola’s intense gaze drops, and for a moment, I think he’ll kiss me, that he’ll finish what he started at The Muse.

  But instead, his touch falls away, and he steps back, then turns and strides into the office, leaving me alone in the hall to wait for my heart to calm down enough to face the others.

  Ready or Not

  When I walk into the office, Nikola and Declan stand on opposite sides of the low coffee table from each other, the air of easy acceptance gone from Declan’s demeanor, while Skittle perches on the edge of the chair’s arm, her eyes bouncing between the two with interest.

  Declan stan
ds stiffly, a fine tremor running through his body. He still looks exhausted, and I worry that the exertion of coming will further damage his health. But I can’t say any of that out loud. Commenting on a Councilor’s health just isn’t done in a public space, and while Declan isn’t a Councilor, I won’t treat him as anything less.

  So, instead, I take the initiative and walk to the loveseat, shift the shopping bag to the table, and take a seat, ankles crossed and fingers resting lightly on my knee.

  It’s not a relaxed pose, far from it, and triggers years of etiquette lessons in the others. When the most powerful person in the room sits, everyone sits, and when the most powerful person in the room stands, they stand.

  At once, Nikola and Declan aim for the seat beside me, Declan sliding onto the cushion a step ahead of Nikola. The two men glare at each other for a moment before Nikola’s expression blanks out, his secretarial mask snapping into place.

  Something in my chest tightens at the instant change. I should have foreseen this and taken the other chair next to Skittles, but I didn’t think putting Declan and Nikola beside each other was a good idea.

  Declan leans back, his arm lifting to drape along the back of the loveseat at my back, not quite embracing me, but definitely a show of possessiveness. It makes me restless, my nerves jittery. I like Declan and felt his absence keenly, but he’s been gone, and I’ve grown closer to the others during that time. My emotions for them deepened as we struggled through finding our footing together. Secrets and dreams have been shared between us that Declan missed out on.

  My feelings for the man beside me, while intense, lack the depth of shared experiences I have with Connor and Felix, and even Nikola. He’s a step behind where I am with the others when he started out ahead. It leaves me confused and uncertain how to reconnect with him, to regain what we had before political upheaval tore us apart.

  Warm fingers brush my neck, followed by Declan’s low rumble. “Sparks?”

  I shake away the thoughts, angry with myself for focusing on my feelings when more serious matters need to be addressed.