Game of Lies

by Sadie Moss

  He cut off, horror and anguish flashing across his face at the sight of me. The healer had cleaned me up a bit, and I hadn’t been as covered in marble dust as Beatrice, but I probably looked like a wreck anyway.

  I strode toward Corin and plucked the phone from his unresisting hand. “Christine? Was this the Resistance? Did you do this?”

  The words were thick with emotion, and I gripped the phone tight as I waited for her response.

  “No, Ms. Crow.” The Resistance leader’s even voice came through the speaker. “It wasn’t the Resistance. Of course it wasn’t. It was probably a single operator with a vendetta and access to the palace.”

  “It wasn’t a magical bomb. It was the old-fashioned kind.”

  “That doesn’t mean it was ours.”

  “Then who did this?” I yelled, my voice bouncing off the walls of the kitchen.

  “I don’t know,” she said coldly. She’d never particularly liked me, and she clearly didn’t like the accusation I was leveling at her. “I’m sorry you lost your grandmother, and I understand you’re upset, but I should remind you that she was a Representative. A member of the government we are fighting against, and someone who was complicit in the oppression of hundreds of thousands of people.”

  Anger choked me, and it took several seconds for me to force out a reply. “You didn’t know her. She was… she was changing. She wanted to make up for what she’d done. She was going to help me.”

  “If that’s the case, we are truly sorry to have lost her help.” Christine’s voice was cool, businesslike. “We’ll do more digging on our end and see if we can gather any more information about who was behind this. I’ll keep you updated. In the meantime, stay in the Capital and try to keep gathering intel.” She hesitated, then added, “I am sorry, Lana.”

  The line went dead.

  “Fuck you!” I screamed at the hunk of metal and plastic in my hand.

  Whirling, I bashed the beat-up old phone against the dark marble countertop, my anger nearly blinding me. I raised my hand to slam it down again, but strong fingers pried the phone from my grip. So I hit the counter with my fist instead, bringing it down so hard pain shot up my arm.

  “Fuck you! Fuck you, fuck you!”

  I would’ve kept beating uselessly at the smooth, unforgiving surface until my skin bled and my bones broke, but another large hand grabbed mine, pulling me into a crushing hug.

  Fenris wrapped his arms tight around me, and Corin hugged me from behind, his front pressed to my back. Jae and Akio stepped up on either side, hands resting on the other men’s shoulders, heads bowed toward me.

  My legs gave out as wracking, painful sobs shook me, but I didn’t fall, supported on all sides by warm, strong bodies.

  They held me like that until I couldn’t cry anymore.

  Chapter 16

  Gray eyes.

  An ache gripped my heart. They were my grandmother’s eyes.

  No… my father’s.

  His large hands held mine once again, and once again he pressed the tungsten and copper ring into my palm. But I was older this time—not the child version of myself, but the “me” of today. I was covered in white marble dust, and bright red scratches marred my unnaturally pallid skin.

  “This will keep you safe,” my father promised, closing my fingers around the ring. The metal was cool in my palm.

  “No!” I shook my head, trying to force the piece of jewelry back into his hand. “No, it won’t.”

  He hesitated, seeming to truly see me for the first time. A look of pain crossed his face.

  “I know it won’t. But I have to try.”

  A woman watched us from over his shoulder. She had long red hair like mine, and she smiled at me as if she had no idea of the danger approaching. A second woman stood off to the side. She was petite, with short gray hair and kind eyes. My grandmother. But younger than I’d ever known her.

  Farther behind them, another man stood. He looked familiar, but I couldn’t place him. He was tall and lanky, with brown hair and dark circles under his eyes. Rain? He was smiling at us too.

  Didn’t any of them realize the danger that was coming? The death?

  The Great Death.

  It was coming.

  And there was nothing my father could do to change that.

  “You can’t stop it,” I whispered, meeting his fearful, sad gaze.

  My father nodded, pressing the ring back into my palm. “I know. But I have to try.”

  White light burst from my hand like a bomb, engulfing us all.

  Something tickled my cheek, and I blinked my eyes open. A tear had slipped out of my eye in my sleep, tracking down my face to wet my pillow.

  The room was dark.

  Low voices drifted in from down the hall, but I was alone on the bed.

  My body felt like it had been picked up and shaken like a rag doll, my joints and muscles stiff and sore. A throbbing pain pounded in my head, increasing in intensity as more tears threatened to fall. I pushed them back, letting the numbness take over my mind again as I swung my legs to the floor and stood slowly then headed for the bathroom.

  I flicked on the light and looked at myself in the mirror. My four had put me to bed after I cried myself out in the kitchen; I vaguely remembered being carried up the stairs and laid gently on the soft blankets. I hadn’t let them change my clothes, so I still had on the dress I’d worn to the palace, ripped and dirty and stained with blood—mine and Beatrice’s.

  My face looked both puffy and gaunt, my eyes hollow. Streaks of pink covered my skin where the healer had wiped away blood.

  A sudden revulsion filled me, and I clawed at the zipper of my dress, ripping it off and hurling it into the corner. I turned the water on as hot as I could stand it and stepped into the large stone shower, closing the glass door behind me.

  The water pelted my skin, and for several moments it flowed down the drain in streaks of pink and gray. I stared straight ahead, letting the spray pour over my hair and down my body. Large drops caught in my eyelashes, and I blinked.

  You didn’t even know her that well. Maybe Christine was right.

  I pressed a hand to my stomach, clenching my jaw against the wave of pain that accompanied that thought. No. Christine was wrong. My grandmother had been a good person. Or at least she had wanted to be, which was more than I could say for a lot of people—Gifted, Blighted, or Touched.

  Tears ran down my face, mixing with the water that ran clear now.

  The bathroom door opened, and I looked up, peering through the foggy shower wall.

  Fenris.

  He closed the door softly behind him.

  “I can feel your pain, killer. I feel it like it’s my own, and it’s wrecking me.” His voice was low, more subdued than I’d ever heard it. “I’ll go if you want. But please… let me help you.”

  I hesitated for a moment, breathing shallowly as I stared through the glass at his blurry form.

  Then I reached out and pushed the shower door open.

  His warm brown eyes softened with relief, and he walked toward me quickly, pulling his shirt over his head with one hand as he approached. He slipped off the rest of his clothes before stepping into the shower with me.

  My grief and emotional exhaustion broke down any shyness I might’ve felt, and I stared unabashedly at his body. I’d seen him nearly naked once before, in the mountains. But the difference between “nearly naked” and “naked” was a big one, and as I took in the sight of him, a spark of desire lit low in my belly, burning through the pain and anger and confusion.

  Fen’s somber eyes roamed my body with a similar freedom. His large hand swept along the side of my face, and then he pulled me to him, holding me gently under the stream of water. I rested my cheek on his damp chest, pulling strength and comfort from every molecule of his skin that pressed against mine.

  After several long moments, he drew back.

  His brown eyes were dark as he lathered shampoo in his hands and scrubbed it thr
ough my hair, massaging my scalp until my eyelids fluttered closed. He tipped my head back to rinse my hair before I lost his touch for a moment—then his hands were on me again, slippery with soap as he glided them over my skin, washing away the remainder of this horrifying day.

  My mind began to clear, my numb body coming back to life under Fenris’s ministrations. Water poured over us both, rinsing away the bubbles as he traced a path down my curves, his large palms gently massaging and kneading. When they reached my hips, he dropped down to his knees in front of me, looking up at me with an expression of such abject worship I shivered.

  He pressed a kiss to my belly, then lower, and lower still. I let out a gasp, biting my bottom lip, and he lifted one of my legs to drape it over his shoulder, giving him perfect access to what he sought.

  “Fen…” I whispered, my fingers sliding through his wet hair.

  “Please, let me take care of you. I want to make you feel good,” he murmured, darting his tongue out to lick my core, sending bolts of pleasure snaking up my spine.

  He was. He was making me feel so good I could hardly see straight. And I didn’t want him to stop.

  A flicker of guilt passed through me that I could be enjoying anything this much after Beatrice’s death, but I pushed it away. I wouldn’t let her death go. I would find out who had done it and make them pay.

  But right now, I needed this. Fen’s adoring eyes, his hot hands, his worshipful tongue—they were the antithesis of every awful thing that had happened today. They were life and love and happiness.

  I shifted my hips restlessly, and his hands moved around to grab my ass, pulling me closer to his mouth. He sucked and lapped at my clit until my legs quivered. Water poured down my body, slipping past his hungry mouth as he devoured me like a starving man. When I let out a low moan, he increased the speed and pressure, adding in a gentle nip with his teeth that drove me over the edge.

  The knee of my standing leg buckled as I cried out, and he slid his hands up to my lower back to support me, his shoulder under my lifted thigh helping me stay upright. He gave a few last long, torturous laps with the flat of his tongue, and a breathy laugh escaped my lips as I squirmed.

  “I think I’m clean.”

  Fenris looked up, the sadness in his eyes replaced by a wicked heat. “Then I better get you dirty again.”

  He stood, pulling me toward him for a hot, wet kiss. I could taste myself on his tongue, and it sent a thrill of lust through me. His hard length pressed against my stomach, trapped between us, and I could feel the depth of his desire for me through the bond we shared.

  Maybe it was because of the additional psychic link we had in wolf form, but I’d always felt particularly attuned to Fen’s emotions, and the things he was feeling now made my head spin.

  Want.

  Need.

  Love.

  He pushed me back until I leaned against the shower wall, his kiss demanding and passionate. The smooth stone cooled my skin after the heat of the water, and I shivered, moaning at the mix of sensations. Fenris groped at the wall beside us until he found the knob, switching the water off. Our slick, wet bodies slid against each other as I pressed into him, desperate to get even closer. A sound like a growl rumbled up his throat, and I fisted his damp hair in my fingers. I loved that sound. I wanted to make him do it again and again.

  For a few moments, nothing but the noise of our sharp breaths and low moans filled the space as the steam began to dissipate around us. When Fen pulled back, we were both panting. He slid his hands up my sides to my breasts, thumbs teasing my nipples, and my head fell back against the wall. I watched him focus on his task with hooded eyes, every flick of his thumb or brush of his fingers sending jolts of pleasure zinging through me.

  When he’d worked me up into an almost desperate state, he met my gaze again, brown eyes full of lust and humor. “Hang on.”

  Fenris slipped out of the shower and returned a second later with a large, fluffy white towel. Pulling me away from the wall, he dried my body, starting with my legs and working his way up. The texture of the towel sparked a completely new set of sensations in my flushed, tingling skin.

  When he reached my head, he draped the towel over my hair and rubbed furiously like the human equivalent of a wolf shaking out its wet fur, and I laughed. He opened the shower door and tossed the towel out then smoothed my wild hair with gentle hands.

  When he stepped out again, I was about to follow, but he stopped just outside the shower, his back to me. He glanced over his shoulder, a wide grin splitting his face.

  “What?” I shook my head, confused.

  “Hop on.” He waggled his eyebrows then patted his shoulders with both hands.

  Oh, good gods.

  I rolled my eyes, but couldn’t suppress a smile. He had promised he gave a mean piggyback. Reaching up to wrap my hands around his shoulders, I scrambled onto his back. He caught my legs, lifting me easily.

  When I looked down over his shoulder from this vantage, I could see his long, thick cock bobbing in front of him as he walked us into the bedroom. The sight made my belly clench and heat spread through me like wildfire. I unconsciously ground against his back, pressing my breasts harder to the smooth planes of his muscles and clenching my thighs tighter around his waist.

  He let out a choked grunt. “Fuck, killer. Hang on. We’re almost there.”

  When we reached the bed, he ripped off the top blanket I’d been lying on earlier. It was stained with marble dust and dirt, but the sheets underneath were clean and smooth. Turning around at the end of the bed, he released his hold on my legs, plopping me down onto the soft mattress. I bounced lightly then scooted up the bed as he crawled up after me, a predatory glint in his eyes. His hair was still damp, drops of water clinging to the dark tips, and his skin was flushed.

  As he dipped his head to kiss me, my hand slid down between us and grasped his hard length, stroking lightly and then harder, pulling another growl from his throat. It was my turn to torture him, and I did, with gusto—until he pulled my hand away, his fingers clenching around my wrist like a vice as he fought for control.

  “Not this time, killer. I have to be inside you.”

  In answer, I spread my legs wider in a silent invitation, and he settled between my hips.

  Slowly, agonizingly slowly, he slid into me, then withdrew and pushed in again.

  “I’ve dreamed about this since the day I met you,” he murmured, his voice thick. He shook his head, droplets of water flying off the ends of his hair. “But what the fuck did I know? You’re better than I ever imagined. In every way.”

  My heartbeat picked up speed with every thrust, my clit throbbing from the pressure, my skin on fire where his hands roamed across it. But it was the look in his deep brown eyes that nearly undid me. It was something more than lust, more than love even. The intensity of it scared me and thrilled me, and I knew this was more than just sex—this was a claiming.

  When I thought I couldn’t take it anymore, he finally broke our burning gaze, kissing me deeply before withdrawing completely and urging me onto my stomach. As soon as I rolled over, he tugged on my hips, pulling me up onto my elbows and knees and plunging back into me. This angle hit delicious new spots, and something about the feel of the large, dominant man behind me, his muscles straining and hips pumping, fingers digging into my hips, made me tingle all over with desire.

  “You’re close,” he ground out, his voice strained. “I can feel it. Let go for me, killer. Come for me.”

  I hovered at the edge of release, my body quivering and breath coming in short pants. I didn’t want to let this end, but I couldn’t last much longer.

  “Say it,” I gasped, my voice muffled against my forearms.

  His thrusts paused for a heartbeat. Then they picked up again, slower and harder.

  “Say what?”

  There was a smile in his voice, and I was sure he knew exactly what I was asking for. But the fucker was going to make me say it. I clamped tighter
around him in frustration—though that clearly wasn’t an effective punishment, given his groan of satisfaction. He drove into me harder, nearly stealing the breath from my lungs.

  “Just… say it. Please. Tell me.” My words were a whisper, a plea.

  He leaned down over me suddenly, his chest pressing against my back, one hand bracing his weight on the bed while the other snaked around to massage my aching clit. His lips brushed the shell of my ear, and his low, rumbling voice reached a spot inside me I hadn’t even known existed until now.

  “Mine.”

  He bit down on my earlobe as he said the word, and my world exploded. A harsh cry fell from my lips as my body shook with waves of pleasure. Fen drove into me hard and deep several more times, riding out my orgasm before tumbling into his own.

  We collapsed on the bed in a heap, his weight resting on my back, his cock still inside me, our bodies damp with water and sweat.

  I felt boneless, sated—and whole.

  When he moved to get off me, I muttered an incoherent protest, and he pressed a kiss to my cheek. “I hate to do this, but I think you’ll need to breathe eventually.”

  Fuck. Who needed air? I would gladly trade it for the comforting feel of Fenris’s muscle and scruff, the scent of pine that lingered on his skin as though he carried a bit of the forest with him everywhere he went.

  He retreated to the bathroom, and I rolled my limp body over, staring up at the ceiling. A moment later, he returned with a warm, wet cloth and kneeled between my legs to clean me off. I looked down my body at him, touched by the simple, tender gesture.

  “Fenris?” I murmured, my throat tightening with emotion.

  “Yeah?”

  “You’re mine too, you know.”

  He glanced up at me, happiness glowing in his chocolate brown eyes.

  “Killer, I’ve known that since the beginning.”

  Chapter 17

  I slept dreamlessly that night.

  Fenris’s warm arms encased me like a shell, and it was as though the protective shield of his body kept all my nightmares at bay.