by Sienna Aylen
Turning to look where Tessa was setting up the phone for the conference call, Emma reclined farther into her chair until she was practically lying in it. “Is it set up yet, Tess?”
Tessa waved a hand airily in her direction without taking her eyes from the slim digital phone screen. “My, are we impatient this morning. Give me a minute, would you? We switch our numbers so often it’s taking forever to find the most recent ones. I figure I’ll ring Jade and Esmeralda. They’re both more likely to answer their phones than the others. I should probably call Isabella too, since I don’t think Jade caught up with them yet.”
Technically speaking, they didn’t necessarily need phones…or communication devices of any kind. They all had low levels of telepathy. As far as Emma knew, the gift didn’t extend to anyone else, just her sisters. She could be wrong, though. It wouldn’t be the first time.
She still remembered the day they had become official Council members. A private ceremony had taken place and they’d received their marks. Rubbing one hand over her hip, she could still feel the remembrance of the slight sting that had accompanied it. The mark of immortality. Emma had just turned twenty-five that day. She’d been so young and so eager to prove herself. To make her place in the world.
It had been a shock. Right after them getting their marks, she had felt her senses expanding, seeking out the others. The thoughts of all nine of them had mixed together in a jumble of telepathy. Eventually they had learned how to turn the connection on and off at will. Those had been the days, when they were all invincible and uninhibited with their gifts, back when nothing could stop them. Back when undercover jobs had given her a high of excitement and danger. The telepathy had been useful on those jobs, especially since telephones hadn’t been invented yet.
As a matter of fact, now that she thought about it, they’d only started using phones a century ago. The last job they’d all used telepathy, Ceila, Aslynn and Jade had been injured. The link had put too much pressure on their gifts and they’d gotten caught in the crossfire. Connecting with one of them would be the same as signing their death certificate at this point.
Emma sighed and closed her eyes. All of a sudden she felt very old.
At last, Tessa put through the calls and placed her sparkly pink phone in the middle of the desk with the speaker on.
Esmeralda picked up first. “Hey, hey, chicas, what’s going on? We’re all here. Ceila and Aslynn are already rolling their eyes at me. Tess, it just isn’t the same being on the job without you.”
Tessa laughed. “It’s all your fault, you know. Jade stopped sending us out together after what happened in Morocco.”
Esmeralda’s dramatic gasp echoed in the room. “Morocco was not my fault. It was yours.”
Jade’s smooth voice came over the line. “This is why I separated the two of you. It was a miracle you two ever got anything done together.”
A chorus of greetings to their eldest sister came through the line.
Isabella’s icy voice echoed over the phone. “I told you we weren’t late, Rachelle. They’re still bickering over the Morocco incident.”
Jade took over the call with an efficiency she must have been born with. “All right, updates. Emma, you start. What’s happening with the bears?”
Emma leaned closer to the desk and answered, “We think it’s one of their own attacking the Clan, Jade. I haven’t been able to connect the incidents to a specific person yet. We have no choice but to sit tight until they make their next move. There’s also something else that I don’t believe is connected but needs to be investigated. They’ve had missing kids randomly show up on their property. I plan on looking into that issue today.”
“Let me know if you find out it’s connected. Esmeralda, the wolves.”
“Let’s see, we’ve got emotional distress, a disease we can’t identify, rogues and a cranky Alpha who is getting on my last nerve. We’re working on it. Not much to report yet.”
Esmeralda sounded particularly put out with the wolf Alpha. Emma would have loved to be a fly on the wall for that. It wasn’t often that anyone was able to get under her skin and by the sounds of it, the Alpha was very skilled at it.
Ceila chimed in, “It isn’t just emotional distress. There’s something else underneath it but I haven’t been able to get to the root of it yet. It isn’t natural, though. It seems almost like a deliberate and manufactured madness. I’ll call again as soon as I figure it out.”
“There’s too much here for it to be coincidence,” Aslynn added.
“Keep me updated every step of the way. Isabella and Rachelle, the cats,” Jade directed.
“Well, first off, we’re fighting environmental factors down here. Add that to the fact that we aren’t welcome and we’re pretty much crashing this party. The cats aren’t very friendly so until we can at least establish some sort of truce with them, we’re flying blind. Without your skills, Jade, this is going to take a while,” Isabella said.
Rachelle’s soft, lilting voice floated over the line. “Someone is poisoning the Amazon. I can feel it. If we don’t figure it out soon, they’ll destroy the entire ecosystem.”
Jade’s voice of reason was firm. “Continue doing what you’re doing. We knew these jobs wouldn’t be easy and they’ll probably require extended stays in the region. You all are the best at what you do and if we can’t prevent the shifters’ demise then no one can. Isabella, I’ll be there with you both in the Amazon as soon as I am able. Update me as things progress.” With that, her voice left the conversation.
“She never did mince words,” Ceila stated as soon as Jade was off the line.
Emma spent the next few hours bent over her work and was glad for a break, even though lunch came and went silently, she and Gwen grabbing a quick sandwich between their searches on the Clan’s main computer. Emma was grateful for Bleu’s perfectionist tendencies—each incident report was unbelievably detailed, including everything from the ages of the kids who’d shown up on Clan property to their cities of origin, all the way down to the color of their hair and eyes. They had all the information at their fingertips. Now, they just had to take the time to sift through it.
They sat on the floor of the living room, paper copies of each report spread around them in every direction. Emma had insisted on paper copies. Gwen had argued it was inefficient but eventually Emma had gotten her way.
Rubbing her eyes after spending almost two hours just reading through the enormous pile of paper, Emma stared at the words on the last report. In a territory as vast as the Clan’s, it wouldn’t be unusual for a few people to get lost while hiking and end up on their lands. Anywhere from two to ten per year would’ve been average, but they’d had upward of thirty reports just within the last five months alone.
As a precaution, they’d printed out records from the past decade, and so hundreds and hundreds of reports littered the hardwood floors. Gwen, busy typing away on her handheld tablet, had murmured something an hour ago about plotting a graph or timeline or something. Her fingers hadn’t stopped moving since.
Leaning her head down on her raised knees, Emma closed her eyes, relaxing for the first time that day. Her reverie was interrupted by the smell of cinnamon sticky buns wafting from the kitchen. At the delectable scent, her stomach grumbled in demand.
Muffled footsteps coming closer roused Emma from her rest. Damien strode into the living room, two plates piled high with the sugary treats balanced in his hands. His dirty-blond hair was tousled, with that one strand that kept slipping over his eyes. Emma blinked rapidly. Bare, defined pecs and six-pack abs stared back at her. Frowning, Emma rubbed her eyes again, this time in disbelief. She’d only been there two days, but the man was shirtless more often than not… If she didn’t know better she would swear he was doing it on purpose to distract her.
To tempt her.
To drive her crazy.
Narrowing her eyes, she tried to focus her gaze anywhere besides his deliciously chiseled chest.
Dam
ien set down the two plates of sticky buns on the coffee table. Emma didn’t even try to hide her surprise. She’d heard the rattling of jars and cupboard doors in the kitchen earlier, and had heard the oven timer go off, but she hadn’t thought for a minute the Alpha knew how to bake. The morning and early afternoon had gone by quietly while they’d worked. He’d passed the living room where they were sitting countless times. Each time, Emma had used strict discipline to keep her focus on the humongous pile of reports in front of her.
But when his chest was right in front of her on display, it was impossible not to stare. And when Damien straightened from the coffee table and his arm muscles rippled, Emma’s breath sped up.
“I thought you guys could probably use a pick-me-up by now. I never realized how many of these reports we had on file.”
Gwen grabbed one of the sticky treats and popped it into her mouth whole. Her fingers flew over the keyboard. Without missing a beat, she swallowed and answered, “This is an unusually high amount of missing people who have ventured onto your territory. It wouldn’t be such a mess if we were only looking at the ones from the past year, but I went back through the past decade to see if there were any patterns.”
Emma couldn’t stand it anymore, the way his ridiculously toned chest was driving her crazy. She sent him her fiercest frown before snapping, “Don’t you ever wear a shirt?”
Damien grinned from ear to ear. He casually flexed his pecs, eyes fixed on hers the entire time. He shrugged, making her want to wipe the smug look right off his face. “Laundry day. They’re all in the wash.”
Emma stared at him in disbelief. “Mhmm.” With a strength of will she didn’t know she possessed, she moved her stare to the pages in front of her. Under her breath she mumbled, “How many shirts could a full-grown man possibly need…walking around bare-chested all the time. Distracting the female populace. What a menace.”
Clearing his throat with a husky chuckle, Damien asked, “So, have you found anything?”
Shooting him a glare, Emma answered, “Well, from what I’ve read, a vast majority of the missing people found on your territory were under the age of twenty-five. Quite a few were orphans and most had no recollection of how they got there.”
Gwen pushed some of the reports out of her way and scooted closer to both Emma and Damien. Turning the screen so they could see it, she pointed to her graph. “Ten years ago, the steady rate was a couple dozen missing hikers and tourists per year. About six years ago, that number started to rise steadily as the age of the people dropped.”
Damien stared at the screen. “Wow. We returned all the missing kids and teenagers back to their homes when we found them. They weren’t hurt so I thought it was just a higher rate of people going astray in the forest. I couldn’t connect it to anything, either, so I let it go. I probably should have looked into it further.” He took a seat on the end of the couch.
Gwen continued, “Then if you look right here, about three weeks ago they all stopped. There haven’t been any reports at all within that time. It’s strange. I have no idea what could account for it, except that maybe someone had brought the kids here on purpose, but then why leave them and why stop suddenly?”
“It simply doesn’t make any sense. But as long as there aren’t any more incidents, then we have to assume whoever did it must have moved on. There isn’t anything else we can tell you unless another person shows up,” added Emma.
“Thanks for looking into it. If anyone else turns up, you all will be the first to know about it.” Damien glanced at his watch. “We’ll be leaving around five to head over to my parents’ for dinner. I’ve got one more phone call to make before then, so I’ll see you guys later.”
With sheer determination Emma kept her eyes off him as he left the room.
* * * *
After spending the day cooped up inside, it was good to be outdoors, letting the breeze tickle her senses with the scents of lilacs and lavender. With one leg tucked up underneath her, Emma ran a pencil over the worn page of her sketchbook, her gloves lying abandoned in her lap. The aged porch swing creaked and moaned as she dipped her leg back and forth, gently rocking herself.
In the distance echoed the sounds of cubs playing in the field and teenagers jumping in the lake. She relished the moment of solitude. Between their meetings and work, her day had been full. Throughout the morning, Emma had waited for Damien to sneak a kiss or a touch, but he never did. Now that he wasn’t touching her, she missed it terribly. Was he staying away because of what she had said the day before?
Sometimes, Emma, you’re incredibly dumb. She hadn’t meant what she’d said, well, sort of. As a rule, she hated it when other people invaded her personal space. Hated it when people touched her without an invitation. Then there was that throat grab when he’d kissed her. She would’ve eviscerated anyone else who dared to handle her like that. But with Damien it was different. She liked his touch…a bit too much, and that was what had pushed her into saying something so stupid. You can’t complain about it now.
You got exactly what you wanted.
Ah, shut up. I know.
Emma scowled at the snarky voice inside her head but admitted to herself she missed the contact between them. It had only been a few days but the ever-present cloud of memories had been pretty tame during their stay. It was content to stay in the background when Damien was with her. But when the sun went down, the memories came out to taunt her.
Sighing, she ran her finger over the edge of the sketch to smooth out the pencil lines. If only there was some sort of manual for how to deal with your Fated, or with men in general, for that matter. Then she could have Gwen read it for her and give her the Cliffs Notes version. She had nothing to go off, no real experience when it came to attempting to build a relationship, which left her with only one option…winging it.
Bleu and Gwen would probably have a heart attack at the concept of winging anything. The thought made her grin.
She almost had a heart attack when the swing dipped and Damien was sitting next to her. He threw an arm over the back of the swing, encasing her shoulders. She closed her eyes momentarily at the brush of his skin against hers. It was an instant balm to her senses.
When she opened her eyes, she saw the smile stretching across his entire face. “You’ve got talent. It looks just like me.” His voice was husky, a deep drawl that sent butterflies fluttering in her stomach.
Following his eyes to where the tip of her pencil rested against the page of her sketchbook, she was surprised to find an exact replica of his face staring back at her. Emma closed the book with a snap and set it on the porch railing, shrugging. “It’s a hobby. It relaxes me.”
Damien used his weight to swing them back and forth in a mesmerizing rhythm. He didn’t speak for five long minutes. When he finally opened his mouth, his voice was pitched low so it wouldn’t travel across the clearing to where Gene was working under the hood of one of the Jeeps. “I think it’s more than a hobby. It’s a passion. I wanted to ask you something, but I’m not so sure how you’ll take it.”
Twisting in her seat made Emma’s arm brush up against the firm muscles in his abdomen. Curiosity almost ate her alive as she watched his mouth firm into a line. “You might as well just spit it out. How am I supposed to know how I’ll react when I have no idea what you want to ask me?”
Damien twined his hand into the strands of her hair. Pulling her closer, he dipped his head toward her face as her eyes instinctively fluttered shut. Instead of going straight for her lips, Damien took his time, pressing his lips to both eyelids before making his way down her left cheek to the line of her jaw. When she scooted even closer and tangled her bare fingers in the smattering of his chest hair, he inhaled sharply. Hovering his lips right above hers, Damien whispered, “Do you want my touch, Emma?”
Her eyelids were heavy when she lifted them to look into the deep gold of his eyes. Right before her lips pressed against his, she whispered, “ Yes. ” Their lips dueled and tangoed. Damie
n took the lead, nipping and taking advantage when Emma parted her lips for him. Both of them were panting heavily when they broke away, gasping for air.
Damien ran a hand down the side of Emma’s face and along her arm to her hand, making her sigh in contentment. He linked his strong fingers with hers before bringing them up to rest against his chest. “So, you do like my touch, just not anyone else’s.” Taking her hand to his mouth, Damien pressed a kiss along her knuckles, nipping before easing the sting with his lips. “Will you go out with me, Emma?”
Leaning back, Emma tried to pull her hand from his grasp but he only tightened his grip. Her gaze landed somewhere past his ear. “I…I don’t know. What exactly are you looking for? A fling? A one-night stand with a Council member?”
Damien shook his head, shifting to recapture her gaze. “It’s not like that. I don’t want one night. I want as long as you’ll give me. I want to get to know you, Emma. I couldn’t care less about your status as a part of the Council. I want the real Emma, not the façade you project to the world.” When she still hesitated, he seemed to change tactics. “How about this, you give me tonight. No sex, no strings, just one night without fighting or avoiding me. One night to see what it would be like if we were together.”
His declaration was both encouraging and disappointing. He didn’t mention mating but then, she hadn’t expected him to. Emma acknowledged she was afraid, afraid of falling for him only to have it not work out. But she knew better than anyone life shouldn’t be ruled by fear. It was all about living in the moment. She bit her lower lip. Stroking her fingers over the stubble along his jaw, her voice now as husky as his, she answered, “I would like that.”
* * * *
She wasn’t so sure later. Unwrapping the turban her hair was in, Emma sat down on the bed with a comb and got to work running it through the damp strands, her stomach doing flip-flops at the thought of meeting his family. His normal family. She’d stick out like a sore thumb, normal not being her forte. Her life was abnormal in every sense of the word.