by Elise Jae
Fault’s jaw twitches and I see the moment the other man realizes he might be in danger. “But not buried deeply enough that you feel comfortable speaking of it freely when you do not know who is listening.”
The man blinks at that, seemingly only realizing what sort of damage he could have just done. “Oh. Oh! I am so sorry.”
“Like I said, we should be going.” Drift all but drags the other two off the couch and shoves them toward the door.
As they pushed past, making their way toward their cars, I heard the first hints that they’d begun to realize Drift knew more than he’d been telling them.
But Drift always knew more than he told anyone. If they haven’t figured that out before now, they weren’t paying attention.
Watching them go and clutching a tablet to his chest, the court clerk clears his throat. “Even after the other restitutions were paid, the amount he left you is quite sizable.”
“I’m sure you’re wrong. He didn’t care about me in the least, so if it is for his heir, that’s not me.
“Oh, no. He left this to you, explicitly and by your legal birth name.”
“Then just leave it and go. Tell me what to sign and let’s get it over with.”
FAULT
When the clerk finally leaves, only a handful of minutes have passed, but it feels like I’ve weathered hours of punishment. I don’t want to think about the man, much less have the money he accumulated by torturing and killing not only my brothers, but countless others I can’t even begin to imagine.
Wren is the one who looks at the tablet the man left behind. Her low whistle tells me torture and death were profitable.
“It’s blood money and I don’t want anything to do with it.”
“Then we’ll find a worthy charity to donate the money to… and figure out how to liquidate the property and physical items.”
A ghost of ill ease passes through our bond and I jerk my head up to look at her. “What is it?”
She stares at the screen, brows pinched, “I know this number.” She’s pointing at the bank account.
“How?”
“That’s the account for my anonymous benefactor.” She shivers. “Your father was the one who tried to bring me here. The one who specifically tried to match me with Richter.”
I don’t look at the account number. I trust that she knows what she’s talking about, but she goes to the wall screen and, picking up the tablet that controls it, she taps through a dozen commands, bringing up her Agency file.
“The numbers match…. Why would he want me to bond with Richter?
“He brought Laurel here for the bastard that would have killed her and taken her child…. I have no idea how to try to rationalize the acts of a man like him.”
She shivers, and I bundle her up, sweeping her into my arms and holding her close. “He’s dead. He can’t hurt us anymore.”
“I know, but I still want answers.”
“Then we’ll figure it out.”
“Later. I’m tired. Take me back to bed.”
I kiss her temple and whisper… “How tired?”
Seven
WREN
Three weeks later, we’ve settled into an easy routine, and I make my way up the stairs feeling delightfully sore after the night’s festivities. But it’s not a normal day.
The living room is full of boxes.
I rub the sleep from my eyes as Fault hands me a cup of coffee. “When did those get here?”
“They were dropped in the garage around three this morning.”
“Ah,” I stretch, loving the sore muscles that are still getting used to him. “No wonder we didn’t hear the bell.”
He scowls at my stomach and pulls my sweater down to cover the faint remnants of the bruising there. “What did you bring with you?”
“You know, it’s been so long since I packed, I’m not one hundred percent certain.”
But I numbered the boxes, so I know where to start.
The first box pops open as soon as I unlatch the metal clasps holding it down and Fault takes the lid from me, setting it to the side.
I wasn’t allowed to pack anything time sensitive or that would have been labelled “contraband.” The lower-priority boxes are mostly clothes and blankets. Everything is either utilitarian, or nostalgic.
The first thing that catches my eye falls into the latter category.
I pull the fuzzy purple bunny from where it was stuffed and I have to wonder….
“I know what happened with us was a mistake—the Saints intervening—and that Drift told you you couldn’t request a bond mate, but…. I don’t think I ever asked. You want kids, but there’s something… holding you back from it. I feel it again now that I’ve brought it up, I felt it when you asked me….”
“It’s another one of Drift’s rules. Another thing he made me promise. But it’s a rule we’ll break and a promise I have no intention of keeping now that I have you. When you want kids, all you have to do is ask and I’ll get off the suppressant.”
“I brought this for those nebulous kids.” I hand it over to him and I feel the curiosity filter through our bond.
“What is this creature?”
“It’s a bunny. But it’s a cartoon-ized version of one. The real kind aren’t purple and their bodies aren’t shaped like that.”
“It’s a misrepresentation of a creature of your home planet?”
“It’s a soft toy meant to comfort children.”
He stares at it for a long moment and I realize… he probably never knew comfort as a child.
When I look back down, I see the black case wedged between bubble wrapped heirlooms and remember the chuckle I had when packing this particular box, putting the bunny with my pistol was an odd sort of irony.
I pull the case out and take it to the table.
When I pop it open, checking to make sure everything’s still in order, that curiosity I feel shifts closer to suspicion.
“I’m surprised they let you bring a firearm.” Fault is holding the bunny still, almost hugging it to his chest, though I don’t know if it’s a conscious movement.
“Special dispensation, remember? The monster threat helped—back when I’d been assigned to Richter. And they did like a thousand background checks on me. Once they were satisfied I wasn’t some sort of military spy or something, they agreed. Though they gave me a monthly import limit on the bullets.”
“How many?”
“Two cases.” I hadn’t asked for any. “I don’t anticipate actually needing to import one box a year, let alone two a month, but who knows.”
Still holding the bunny, he screws his mouth up, looking down at the gun. “I’ll check you out on my weapons soon. You should know how to use them… just in case.”
In case the monsters get more aggressive.
He doesn’t have to say it. I feel it.
“Okay.” I snap the case closed and turn back to the boxes. “Let’s see what else we need to find space for now.”
FAULT
There are a dozen green and purple and white items on the counter. She’s told me they’re depression glass and their purpose is completely decorative. It’s why I’ve cleared off the very top shelf in the kitchen. A place for them to be out of the way, where no one will break them.
Especially me.
The fact she can trace her family back through her matriarchal line for four generations—even though she admits there are holes—still astonishes me. Even if it doesn’t sound like they were close, the length of time is still so strange to my ears.
But not as strange as the pinging coming from the living room. Because it’s not Drift, or one of the bondmates for Wren.... It’s the public line.
No one calls me.
Not sure what to expect, I go to the living room and accept the call.
“Hey there, Handsome.” Margot smiles at me from what I can only assume is her office. “Where have you been?”
I blink at her for a moment, remembering ho
w much time has passed. “I don’t think I’ve ever gotten a welfare check from you… and I’m not, technically, behind schedule for my previously normal visits.”
“No… but a rumor reached me that you deserve congratulations.”
“The Saints have been kind.”
She looks beyond me and I know that Wren isn’t paying attention, she’s sorting through her boxes. “It looks like they’ve been very kind indeed.”
“Did you call because you were curious? Or do I need to close out a tab?”
Her smile is wry. “Curiosity and a reminder. The ladies do a girls night here every once in a while. Make sure she comes out for the next one.”
“I’d make sure Kimba gets that invitation. I’m not going to stop her from going, but it’ll be easier to get her to agree if she gets the invite from someone she knows who’ll be there.”
“Oh, I think she owes me a visit. At the very least.” When Margot disconnects the call with a smile I don’t quite trust, I turn to see Wren leaning on the side of the stacked boxes, one hand behind her back.
“We have been playing too hard.” Her serious face can’t disguise the mischievous feeling pulsing through our bond.
“Have we?”
She nods. “We haven’t even had a chance to go to the store. Luckily, I brought something special from Earth.”
She pulls her hand forward and wiggles a strangely shaped pink bottle at me. It smells like that chemical fragrance I’ve been told is called bubble gum, and based on the spike of arousal, it’s not hard to guess what’s on her mind.
She grabs my hand and gently tugs me downstairs—not that I ever need any prodding with her.
“Remember,” I drag her back to me as soon as she sets the bottle on the nightstand. ‘We didn’t get very far the first time. Don’t rush.”
“This stuff is crazy slick, so even if we get carried away…” she presses to her toes, reaching for my neck, and I pick her up.
It’s become habit.
She groans against me and then wiggles. “Come on. Get naked.”
As soon as she’s back on her feet, she sweeps her sweater over her head and is practically already naked.
Neither of us have put on a full set of clothing unless absolutely necessary since we got back from that first meeting.
The loose pants I pulled on this morning are the only things between us when she wiggles out of the boy-shorts she favors.
“Remind me again why we have to leave this room?” But she doesn’t give me a chance to answer.
Hands on my hips, she steers me around and pushes me back onto the bed.
I’m painfully hard. All either one of us has to do is think about sex and we’re done for.
Even the idea of this still mildly terrifies me. Nothing but desire and excitement comes back to me through the bond.
The bottle lid snaps open and I watch her pour that super slick liquid into her hand. I hold my breath as she reaches for me, but I can’t hold back the groan as she slicks my cock with the lube.
“Wren?” My voice sounds strangled, even to me.
“Yes?”
“I need to kiss you.”
With a giggle, she crawls up the bed and gives me what I want.
“We’re going to have to wash the sheets again,” she glances at the handprint she’s left beside me.
“I don’t care.”
“They’re going to get holes.”
“Then we’ll buy new ones.”
Straddled over me, I can barely focus when she sits upright and takes me in hand again.
She’s all lubed up—probably more than strictly necessary—and my cock is so slick.
But I manage to remember to say, “Be careful.”
“I’m not going to do anything that might make you shy away next time.”
I’m not used to this… I’m not sure I’ll ever get used to it, but it’s easier this time. I know what to expect. Know exactly how much I loved it the last time.
My thumb working her clit, I feel what she needs. Know that this time, with the connection….
She slides down onto me a little further and all thoughts leave my head, the only thing I know is pleasure. Her and mine.
“Told you.” She says, between heavy breaths. “This stuff works miracles.”
I keep my theory that she works miracles to myself and keep my focus on her face. I want to know the way she looks when she feels this way. Want that image burned into my brain.
“I need,” she clenches down on me with a shiver, and I know the next word before she says it. “More.”
Turning her over, I know she’s used to me now and the likelihood I’ll hurt her—easily—is almost nil.
Even so, she’s the one who moves on me. She’s the one who sets the pace.
“How is it possible that the Saints delivered me an angel?”
She laughs, a short breathy sound.
“Are you sure I’m an angel? I’ve never seen anything that suggests they’re into anal.”
“The only angel they’d send me would have to be as horny as you are.”
“I’ve had months of not getting any pleasure.” She tightens around me, and I tighten too. “And then, I’m presented with the perfect sian man. I would keep your cock inside me indefinitely if I could.”
Moments later, I pour into her and she lets out the sweetest sound.
“I’m never going to get used to the way you feel inside my head.” I lean down to press a kiss to her shoulder blade. “And I don’t want to.”
Eight
WREN
Fault might not be curious about what his father left behind, but I am.
Almost all of the “inheritance” is digital files. I was surprised to see letters meant for Fault—those, I skimmed right past especially after seeing that Christina’s three mates had unsuccessfully tried to kill him years ago.
There were dozens of bank accounts, and I created a new one in Fault’s name, linked, but separate, to funnel it all into so there was an accurate accounting for when he decided which organization he wanted to give it to.
The information on his experiments with the monsters… I’d like to send that straight to Jessica, but I have no idea how I’d explain it. Similar information about the Brotherhood’s health could go to Cindy….
The only file I read is Fault’s. And I hate what I find.
Through the bond, I can feel how much he hates that I’m going through these things, but it has to be done, and he’s agreed that it should be done sooner than later. I can’t imagine how much madder he’d be if he was looking at the actual data.
There’s a property list.
The Maker had homes and warehouses in almost every province on the planet. I don’t know if I want to know what’s stored in them.
But at the bottom of the list is a file named: LAF DOB
Those are my initials.
The file is password protected, but I don’t need a hint to guess it. No doubt that was by design.
A shiver wracks through me and I click through. There are six digits to the passcode and I hold my breath as I punch my date of birth in.
The screen flickers and then floods.
The top image is a map of the caldera…. A map with the Brotherhood’s outposts, names attached… but with facilities in the inner caldera and tunnels and when I sort through them, my head starts to hurt….
“Uh… Fault?”
I don’t raise my voice. I don’t have to. Just like I know every time he wants me, I know he can tell. I can feel him coming to me.
FAULT
Wren is staring at the screen in front of her, and it takes a moment to realize what that triumphant panic was for.
Worry fading, I take a deep breath and blow it out. The map of the caldera is familiar. But it has more information than I’ve seen before.
“That’s convenient.” I skim the map, not liking the tunnels, but those should be easily caved in. “It looks like we’ve already found most of his ba
ses….”
“Okay, but what’s at this one?”
She’s pointing to one that we definitely haven’t been to. And the worrying part is that it’s marked with my birth name.
“That would fall into the category of ‘we haven’t found it yet.” Or Drift’s been keeping it from me.
I can feel suspicion and curiosity warring in her. “Let’s go check it out. Just you and me.”
“That’s not exactly protocol.”
“Which part? Taking me, or not reporting it in?”
“Both.”
“Well, I have special training, and as for checking in… fuck Drift. We’ll tell him what we find after we’ve figured it out.”
I know there’s no way I’d talk her out of it… and I’m not sure I’d want to even if I could. “You can come,” I say. “If you pass a weapon’s check.”
“I can take my own gun.”
“I don’t know how it works against the monsters. And if you’re out there, I want you to have every opportunity to protect yourself. Deal?”
“Deal.”
“Let’s get changed.”
I don’t have a cold suit that will fit her, but she brought an Earth-equivalent (or as close to one as they can get) and mentions something called snowboarding.
The outer clothing makes her look like a puffed version of herself, but she can move freely enough, and by the time we get to the weapons locker, I have faith the extra layers won’t slow her down. They might even work as protection if something tries to bite her.
The gun I pull for her is one of the smaller ones. One I don’t usually take myself. It’s light enough it won’t bog her down, but still powerful enough I know it’ll do the trick if we wind up in a bad situation.
She holds it perfectly. Her training on Earth translates to our weapons well enough.
I point to the bright yellow button. “Safety. If it’s lit, you’re good, if it’s off, be sure you only point it at someone you actually mean to shoot. You’ll have to squeeze the trigger with your whole hand.”