Blood Heart

by Lexi C. Foss

  “You know, I amuse myself in the oddest of ways,” the immortal continued. “Like stalking Sentinels for sport. I followed three here earlier tonight. Imagine my surprise upon sensing you, a Hydraian Elder, leaving the building shortly after.” The Ichorian cocked his head to the side. “Blood laws dictate I kill you now, but I say, what would be the fun in that? I’d much prefer to know what has you so intrigued by the alluring redhead downstairs that you’re willing to risk your existence so openly.”

  Ice drilled through Jayson’s veins. Not because Ezekiel knew about Lizzie, but that her condo had attracted his attention. A fledgling lived there.

  Stas.

  The moment an Ichorian learned about Stas’s existence—and, more importantly, her abilities—she would become the target of the immortal world. Something she knew and refused to acknowledge, ergo her insistence on staying with the CRF and trying to learn more about Lizzie.

  Jayson would admire her courage if her choices weren’t so suicidal.

  “Now…” Ezekiel relaxed into one of Jayson’s oversized chairs and crossed his long legs in an elegant way that belied his words. “I’m already aware of Elizabeth’s relation to George Watkins and that her intriguing roommate is a Sentinel—who is also romantically involved with Issac—but why are the Hydraians so interested?”

  If you know about the inhabitants, then I doubt you were following the Sentinels for sport, old friend, Jayson thought. How very informative of you. Meaning the assassin had given him the intelligence for a reason. Ezekiel never did anything without thinking five steps ahead.

  Does he already know about Stas?

  Jayson crossed his arms and cocked a hip against the dining table, feigning a boredom he didn’t feel. “I’m sure you have a theory, Zeke.” Tell me more.

  “Oh, I have several.” Ezekiel smiled, and it was positively lethal. “Elizabeth Watkins looks nothing like her parents. I’m sure you’ve noticed? Oh, I can see you have. She’s gorgeous, isn’t she?”

  “Get to the point.” Before I kick your ass.

  “Don’t worry, old friend, she’s not my type,” Ezekiel purred. “But I can see she’s definitely yours.”

  Jayson didn’t take the bait, but a fire brewed inside—one created by a protective instinct he hadn’t felt in a long, long time. He feigned a yawn to hide his sudden drive to throw a blade at the Ichorian’s head. “Sorry, I’m bored. What do you want, Zeke?”

  The assassin smiled. “Nothing yet. I’m too curious.”

  That sounded ominous, especially coming from Ezekiel. He was the notorious right-hand man of Osiris, the head of the Conclave and the leader of the Ichorian race. Except Ezekiel had been off the radar for the last century or so.

  “I thought you were dead,” Jayson remarked. “Where the hell have you been?”

  “Oh, here and there,” he replied flippantly with a wave of his hand. “Off seeing the world and all that jazz.”

  “Right.” Jayson believed that about as much as he believed Ezekiel had a heart. “So you dropped by to say hi? Reminisce about old times?” By trying to shoot me.

  “Sure.” Ezekiel stood and smoothed his button-down shirt. “I also wanted confirmation.”

  “Of?”

  “Your feelings for the girl below,” he replied as he retrieved his jacket. “I’m looking forward to our new game, Jedrick. It’s been too long.” He slipped on his coat and pulled his long, dark hair from the collar to lay it over his back. Ezekiel clearly hadn’t received the fashion guides for this century, or perhaps he enjoyed the old “vampy” style. His pale skin and black, gold-flecked eyes only added to the nefarious appearance.

  “What if I don’t want to play?” Jayson asked, wary.

  “Oh, but we’ve already started.” He held up the blades. “Thanks for these. I’ll be putting them to good use.” He opened the door and grinned over his shoulder. “See you soon, old friend.”

  I certainly hope not. “Try to work on your aim in the interim,” Jayson suggested.

  Amusement flickered in Ezekiel’s eyes. “And you work on keeping that poor girl safe. It would be such a shame if she fell into the wrong hands, Jedrick.”

  He disappeared into the corridor before Jayson could reply. Mostly because his throat had clogged with an emotion he didn’t feel often.

  Fear.

  It paralyzed him inside while pissing him off at the same time. Jayson lived through more horror than most immortals his age, and yet this minute detail gave him pause? Unacceptable.

  She was just a girl.

  A beautiful, smart, tenderhearted one who may or may not be human.

  Most likely not human, anyway.

  “God damn it,” he muttered.

  Lizzie, through her connection to Jayson, had just earned herself a lethal admirer. One with a propensity for killing brutally.

  Not exactly true. Ezekiel already knew about her through her connection to George Watkins and the CRF itself. But he hadn’t been interested until Jayson arrived.

  And that put Stas in danger too.

  Fuck.

  Jayson closed the door and dialed a number from memory.

  A cool British accent came over the line two rings later. “One moment.”

  Loud music and conversation flowed over the line while Jayson waited, and the dimming suggested Issac was walking away from the source of the commotion. “Is Elizabeth all right?” he asked.

  “She’s fine, but an old friend just dropped by uninvited.”

  “Who?”

  “Ezekiel.”

  Silence met that proclamation.

  “He suspects I’m here for Lizzie, and he’s intrigued,” Jayson added. “And he mentioned Stas. He knows she’s a Sentinel and commented on your relationship with her.”

  “I see,” Issac replied, voice devoid of emotion. “Does he suspect her heritage?”

  “His history of tracking and slaughtering fledglings suggests that, if he doesn’t yet, it’s only a matter of time before he does. Especially now that he’s fascinated.” Which meant Stas needed to get the hell out of New York City. Now.

  “Issac?” Stas’s voice flowed in the background, as did the click-clacking of heels. Jayson pictured her walking toward the suit-clad Ichorian. Their relationship concerned him, mostly because it would only end in heartache. Not that it was his place to comment.

  “What’s going on?” she asked, voice concerned. “Is Lizzie okay?”

  “Jayson has just had a visit from a renowned Nizari assassin.”

  “What?” Her voice held a touch of fear. As it should. “I thought you said they didn’t exist anymore.”

  “Their purpose is moot due to a lack of known fledglings,” Issac clarified. “But some of them are very much alive, and the one who visited Jayson is the deadliest of them all. And he knows about you.”

  More silence. Jayson guessed they were either embracing or staring each other down.

  Issac proved it to be the latter as he said, “It’s time, Aya. We need to get you out of the city.”

  “Absolutely not.” Stas’s tone was resolute and brooked no argument. Not that it stopped Issac.

  “It’s not safe for you here.”

  “You’ve been saying that for months, and while I agree with you, there is no way in hell I’m leaving Lizzie behind. Or you.”

  “Stubborn woman,” Jayson muttered. Because he understood and admired that level of loyalty. It was why he agreed to venture to New York City despite it being a likely death sentence. He had a responsibility to his kind to investigate and help Lizzie, especially if it meant bringing her in as an ally. The Hydraians needed all the help they could get.

  “Aya…” Issac sighed. “Jayson, keep an eye on Elizabeth.”

  The line went dead.

  “Well, that went as expected.” He shook his head and dialed Luc.

  It was going to be a long night.

  3

  A Blood Promise

  Subject’s roommate has engaged in a sexual relation
ship with a renowned Ichorian. Benefactor is not concerned.

  —Entry Log 124.06.4-7

  “Aya,” Issac repeated, this time with a little more force in his tone.

  Astasiya stopped near the stairwell, her spine rigid. “I’m not debating this.”

  He caught her hip and pressed his chest against her exposed back. Her sapphire gown hugged her curves in all the right places, giving him quite the uncomfortable evening. But now was not the time for such indulgences.

  “I may not be well versed in relationships, but I believe communication to be a fundamental point. Yes?” His lips brushed her ear with every word.

  She melted against him on a groan. “I hate when you do that.”

  He grinned. “On the contrary, love, I think you quite enjoy it.” He nipped her pulse and slid his palm to her lower abdomen to stop her from moving away from him again. “We’re discussing this, Aya. You promised me you would relocate to Hydria at the first sign of danger.”

  Not that she seemed all that enthused with upholding her end of the bargain. He had tried to convince her to leave the CRF once they saved his sister from Jonathan’s clutches, but Astasiya used her roommate as an excuse to stay. Her arguments were sound, therefore, he didn’t press his opinion, but every moment she spent in this city, he worried. Endlessly. Never had he cared so much for a woman other than his next of kin, and it hurt on a level he didn’t know existed.

  Astasiya turned in his arms and placed her hands on his shoulders as he grasped her waist, holding her flush against him.

  “Okay, a Nizari assassin told Jayson he knows about me, but he hasn’t done anything yet. Is it because he doesn’t suspect me, or is it something else?”

  “Ezekiel’s intentions are cryptic at best, but he’s notorious for playing with his food.” The Ichorian was renowned for his cruelty and lethal intelligence. His ability to track by blood type increased his notoriety. He was part of the short list of beings Issac considered to be a true threat.

  “But he hasn’t come after me yet,” she repeated.

  He arched a brow. “And so you would prefer to wait for such a moment?”

  “No, but I’m prepared to deal with one.”

  “Your training with Gabriel may be far superior than I anticipated, but that does not qualify you to handle an assassin of Ezekiel’s caliber.”

  Astasiya’s eyes widened. “I’m pretty sure that entire sentence was an insult.”

  “No, it was a rational statement. You are still new to this world and do not know Ezekiel like I do, nor are you prepared to fight him. He will win, you will die, and I do not accept that outcome.” His grip unintentionally tightened, but he couldn’t seem to loosen it. She was here and real, and he refused to let go. Life without her… “I can’t lose you, Aya.”

  Her serious mask crumpled as she wrapped her arms around him and buried her face in his chest. “You won’t.”

  A lie. They both knew he would lose her eventually. She couldn’t remain a fledgling forever, but he would rather her live an immortal life without him than lose her forever.

  “It’s time,” he said again. “You know it’s time.”

  She shook her head against him. “She’s my best friend, Issac. I won’t leave her behind.”

  He threaded his fingers through Astasiya’s beautiful blonde hair as he returned her embrace. His lips found her forehead as he suppressed the urge to sigh. He could never deny her, even when he needed to.

  “She’s well-guarded by Jayson,” he murmured. “And I’ll be here too.”

  “How would you explain my disappearance to John?” She pulled back enough to meet his gaze. “And Osiris?”

  Two excellent questions. “I’m not concerned about Osiris.” Not in the way she mentioned, anyway. The ancient Ichorian showed an uncanny interest in Astasiya during the Conclave but had yet to reach out to inquire as to her immortal status. If he thought of her at all, it could be months or years down the line. Time passed in a unique way for immortals of his age.

  “And John?” she pressed.

  “Would likely inquire about your disappearance and perhaps cause a nuisance, but I’ll handle it.”

  Her eyes expressed admonishment. “You’re allowed to be cavalier about your life, but I’m not at liberty to risk mine.” She cocked her head to the side. “This is a relationship, Issac, where we both care for each other. If you stay, I stay.”

  “Oh? And if I opt to move to Hydria, will you come with me?”

  “Do you want to move to Hydria?”

  “That belies the point. Would you move?”

  She stared him down, as if contemplating his sincerity, and he let her see the truth in his gaze. He truly wanted to know. Would she follow him?

  “Issac…” She closed her eyes and sighed, long and slow. “I know you’re worried, and I am too, but she’s my family. Would you leave Amelia?”

  His chest ached with memory as he forced himself to answer honestly, “No.” Issac had left his sister once, though not intentionally. He had thought she was dead, only to find out Jonathan had played him for a fool. “If I had known she was alive at the CRF, I never would have left her there.”

  “That’s how I feel about Lizzie,” Astasiya replied, opening those enchanting eyes once more. “I know your bond is by blood, but she’s my person. I love her, Issac. And I won’t leave if I can help her.”

  “But can you help her?” he countered.

  “Could you have helped Amelia?” she tossed back, eliciting a growl from him.

  “Aya—”

  “No, listen to me. Those runes at the headquarters would strip your gift for illusion, yet you would have tried everything to breach them to save her, even if it cost your life. That’s how I feel about Lizzie, but unlike you, I’m in a position where I can help her. I just need more time.”

  “To do what? You’re not any closer now than you were six weeks ago.” He pulled away to run his fingers through his hair. “This is madness, Aya. An assassin was in your building tonight. Does that hold no bearing on your thought process?”

  She bristled. “Don’t talk to me like I’m a child.”

  “Then stop acting like one,” he retorted. “This is your life we are discussing, not some Sentinel mission or game.”

  “This is Lizzie’s life too.” Liquid fire lit her green eyes, stirring arousal deep inside him. Not a fantastic time to react, but she resembled a goddess in these moments, and his soul yearned to take her in every way. Mine.

  “I understand the risk,” she continued. “But it is my decision. And yes, perhaps I’m not equipped to handle an assassin in combat yet, but he’s never faced a fledgling like me. All I need is my voice.”

  Power underlined her tone, exciting him more. She’d grown beautifully in the last few months, not just in physical strength but in mental ability, as well.

  “I know you all think I’m being selfish and immature,” she added. “Your centuries of experience trump mine, and I respect that, but I cannot ignore my instincts, Issac. Asking me to flee is not in my nature. To stay is ridiculous and dangerous, and I understand all that, but I can’t be put in time-out while everyone else risks their lives for my best friend. That’s not who I am.”

  The air thickened as her words lingered between them. So strong and courageous, the embodiment of a warrior. He admired her for it, even as he yearned for her safety and for her to see reason.

  She failed to realize this wasn’t solely her decision since it impacted him just as much. If Ezekiel discovered her secret, it would be Issac’s life on the line as well. He didn’t fear the Conclave, but he did worry about how far he would go to protect her.

  But she was right. Asking her to sit on the sidelines would break a fundamental part of her. And Issac could never be the one to extinguish the light that burned so fiercely inside her.

  “Can we compromise?” he asked softly.

  “It depends on your terms.” She sounded so regal but seemed unaware of it. This was the caus
e of Luc’s intrigue—he saw the potential for her to lead. And her ability to compel only enhanced that interest.

  Issac pushed the thought aside and forced himself to live in the present, to enjoy what time he had left with this incredible woman. For the time being, she belonged to him, as he did to her. And he refused to let the future intrude.

  Time for a little game of persuasion.

  “My terms,” he murmured as he advanced on her. She stepped backward, causing the predator in him to grin. He cornered her in the nook beside the stairwell door, placing them out of sight for anyone who chose to enter this vacant corridor of the hotel.

  “I will agree to you staying in New York,” he said as he aligned his body with hers, trapping her against the wall. “If you promise to spend every night with me. Whether it be at your place or mine, I want to know that outside the CRF, you are safe.”

  She swallowed. “Using seduction to distract me isn’t fair, Issac.”

  “You use your gifts; I will use mine.” He ran his hands up her sides. “I love this dress. Tell me what you’re wearing beneath it.”

  “That’s not relevant… to… our negotiation,” she whispered as she arched into him. He loved how her body responded to his every touch as if trained specifically for his brand of pleasure.

  Issac caught her lip between his teeth and nibbled. “On the contrary, I find it very relevant.” He started pulling the fabric up her legs. “I want to know what I’ll be removing later when you come home with me.”

  She shuddered against him as he exposed her thighs. “Issac…”

  “Aya,” he replied, his mouth at her neck. He traced her pulse with his tongue. “Tell me you agree, love.”

  Her nails dug into his shoulders. “You’re not playing fair.”

  “Never with you,” he whispered. She meant too much to him. He would break every rule to keep her safe, and he would concede to her wishes if it meant keeping her happy. But he needed this in return. “Please, Aya.”