Cloak of Deceit: An Alex Moore Novel

by Gwen Mitchell

  “He’s a child.” Julian stepped forward. His tone carried an underlying threat, but I was beyond reason.

  I snorted. “He’s barely younger than I am. And he understands me a lot better than you do.”

  A long silence stretched out between us, building distance one second at a time. I wanted to take my words back already, to apologize. But it was the temptation to throw myself in Julian’s arms, at his mercy, that kept me from doing it. I was finally learning not to listen to that weakness. To stand on my own.

  “You’re right.” Julian crossed the room in two strides and bent to pick up his shirt from the bed. He left his book and tugged the shirt over his head roughly. He stalked to the door and paused in front of me. “You’re both children.”

  “To a dinosaur like you, I guess we are.” The words dropped into my stomach and sizzled uncomfortably.

  Julian swung the door open and glared at the wall over my shoulder, as if he was looking through me. “Monique isn’t sure the inhibitor will be sufficient protection. She thinks your Undead senses are a trigger and could send your psychic powers into overdrive. If you do anything to set them off, I can’t guarantee she won’t kick you out. You’ve been warned. I promised I would protect you until we get this figured out, and I will. But please consider it’s a lot easier to do from here than out there. There’s blood in the refrigerator.”

  He turned his back on me and walked out, slamming the door behind him.

  I jumped at the sharp sound. “Oh, hell!”

  I wanted to scream then — not at Julian, or anyone in particular — screaming just sounded like a good idea. Instead, I collapsed onto the bed, feeling like a hormonally-fueled, relationship-challenged idiot. A child. I rolled onto my side, which put me nose to nose with the book Julian had been reading. The Code. A page was marked. I flipped it open: Sponsorship Bylaws.

  Way to go. I shoved the book away, curled into the pillows, and cried myself to sleep in yet another strange room. Alone.

  Chapter Twelve

  I spent the first part of the following evening in my room. It might have been interpreted as pouting, but I was really sick of being clueless. Until I knew the rules of the game well enough to make moves on my own, I was just a pawn. I had a volume of information right there at my fingertips. It was time to put my cramming skills to good use.

  The Code was a very dry read, like any law book. It had a tangle of cross-references and citations that made my eyes water, so I focused on the Undead manual.

  According to I’m Dead, Now What? your Sponsor was normally the Undead who turned you, but not always. A Sponsor took full responsibility for their Dependant. They were only allowed to have one at a time. They guarded their safety, provided for them, guided them. They were even punished for their crimes. That part had me reeling. If I was reading it right, it meant Andreas was serving a sentence not only for himself, but for Julian too. No wonder Julian felt obligated to free him.

  The act of becoming a Sponsor was simple enough. As Julian had said, you had to have a rank of three or higher. It involved a blood bond, like the one I had with Carl, only going both ways, which made it much stronger. Aside from that, the Cloak conducted a formal ritual and filed some official paperwork.

  It sounded pretty simple, but one glance at the list of hoops the Cloak made you jump through to get a license to turn someone disillusioned me of that notion. It was a lot like adoption. The more I read, the more I felt like a total bitch for treating Julian like I had.

  Without Jules to sponsor me, psychic powers aside, I would be the lowest of low — the bottom rung of Undead society. Pretty much stuck working for the Cloak as an indentured servant. I would have no life of my own, and could never make rank. It sucked. Without Julian, or someone else to sponsor me, I was totally screwed. Cody’s parting gift.

  But I was also a psychic. There weren’t even any rules in the manual about me, except that I shouldn’t exist. Even before the Code, they’d been strictly taboo as a blood source, believed to be tainted.

  If I couldn’t find a way to live under the Code, and I didn’t want to become part of the hive mind of the Grigori, that made me a Rogue Undead. I would have to find my own way, somehow staying undetected. A vision of spending the rest of my unnatural life wearing Monique’s collar polishing her wood floors popped into my head.

  “Lovely.” I sighed and tossed the book aside.

  I did a few laps of the room, and peeked into the mini-fridge twice before guzzling two jugs of the blood Julian had left for me. It was cold, but sustaining. Still, after tasting the real thing, it was like the difference between fresh-roasted gourmet coffee and Folgers instant.

  The blood made me think of Carl. I could recall the fresh taste of him, the feel of his live body under mine, the pounding of his pulse resonating through my entire being. Just the thought made my fangs prickle, and other zones heat up.

  There was a knock at the door and I shuddered, then opened my eyes and cleared my throat. I smoothed my hair, adjusted my T-shirt, and fixed a meek smile on my face, expecting to find Julian on the other side.

  It was Carl.

  “Crap.” I tried to wipe my vivid thoughts of him from my mind.

  He lifted his golden eyebrows with a curious smile, then looked down either side of the hall before focusing back on me. “Not exactly the greeting I was hoping for.”

  “Sorry.” I quickly squelched the strong urge to reach out and hug him. I recovered my composure and leaned my head against the door. “It’s not that I’m not glad to see you.”

  “That’s a relief.” He flashed me his brilliant smile, needlessly straightening his crisp white button-down shirt.

  “How are you feeling?” I asked.

  “Like a million bucks.” He ran one hand through his downy-blond locks in a practiced move. It worked as intended. I smiled.

  “What are you all dressed up for?” I eyed his pressed khakis and smart loafers with mild amusement. If it was on my account, he had it backwards, but I didn’t have the heart to tell him. Plus, he looked good — even if clean cut wasn’t my thing. He’d left the top two buttons of his shirt open, the collar turned down, revealing the enticing “V” of his throat and showing off his pink-tinged love bite like a badge of honor.

  “I thought I’d give you an official tour.”

  I was a little distracted, with him all shiny and smelling like citrus and Sandalwood, so I jumped when Julian’s voice rumbled through the hall.

  “Maybe later, Casanova. I need to talk to Alex.” He came to stand beside Carl like an apparition. How did he not make any noise when he moved? I swear he enjoyed throwing me off-guard.

  Looking at the two of them side by side, they couldn’t be more opposite. Julian was all sultry lines and shadows, from the dark scruff outlining his jaw, to his worn-in black jeans. Carl looked fresh, polished, and alive. They were like night and day. If I hadn’t known it already, it was as plain as the mark on Carl’s neck which one I felt more drawn to. Even the pull of my first and only donor’s sweet, life-giving blood was eclipsed by Julian’s presence.

  “I wanted to talk to you too.” I searched Julian’s face for some sign of what that talk would entail.

  Carl shifted, drawing my attention back to him. I gave him an apologetic look, and forced my mind to stay blank. His smile went down a few hundred Watts. He bowed his head with a sideways glance at Julian. “Raincheck then?”

  “Sure, I’d like that.” Carl dismissed himself. I watched him strut down the hallway before turning back to the looming Undead Knight.

  “Are you going to invite me in?” Julian lifted up two bags I hadn’t noticed he was carrying.

  I pulled on a teasing smile. “If I don’t, can you still cross the threshold?”

  The warmth of his soft chuckle as he edged past me eased the tension in my shoulders.

  “I brought you some things.” He set the bags down near the bed, slid off his ankle-length coat, pulled his shirt over his head, and bent o
ver to unlace his boots.

  I shut the door and leaned against it, unsure about going any further into the room. I pulled my eyes from the play of muscles stretched across his back, then cleared my throat. “Staying a while?”

  Julian shrugged, unbuckling his belt. “My room doesn’t have a bathroom. I thought I would use yours.”

  I gave no reaction, other than the dazed look on my face as I followed the trail of fine black hair that crept up his stomach and fanned out over his broad chest.

  “Is that okay?” he asked with a cocky half-smile.

  I snapped my mouth shut and crossed my arms over my chest, narrowing my eyes at him. “I thought you wanted to talk?”

  “I do. After I shower. Look at what I brought you.” He nodded towards the bags, as if he were a cave man bringing home fresh meat. He left me gaping after him until he closed the bathroom door.

  The first bag confused me. It contained a pair of black jeans, three black T-shirts, men’s socks, and underwear, obviously Julian’s. I made a mental note to counsel him on broadening his wardrobe color scheme as I pawed through the second bag. That one had clothes for me: jeans that actually fit, two tops, a leather jacket, and an expensive bra and panty set that had me scratching my head.

  Wondering if they were a peace offering or a parting gift, I put them on. I chose a low-cut green tee and admired myself in the full-length mirror on the closet door. I finally felt like a girl again. A tough girl, I mused as I realized the clothes had a sort of “don’t fuck with me” edge to them. I sighed as I took the whole thing in. Julian had met me the night I’d been dressed like a dominatrix, and this was understated in comparison.

  Why not? It was a whole new me — new hair, new clothes, new friends, new un-life. I could pull off the badass look. Even my face had changed, in some subtle way I couldn’t quite place. I looked older. Harder.

  The Grigori passed their powers down through their bloodlines, and I knew for a fact my mother had zero psychic abilities. That left one biological possibility for their origin. But who was the man whose eyes looked back at me, now full of knowledge I wish I didn’t have? Why had he given me these gifts —this curse— without ever touching my life in any other way? Did he even know I existed? Did he care?

  It had occurred to me more than once that my father might actually be one of the voices in my head. Yet even the question that had plagued me most of my life wasn’t enough incentive to face the possibility of losing myself in the suffocating darkness of the collective. I pushed those thoughts away as I slipped on the boots Julian had bought me.

  The bathroom door opened. Julian padded into the room with a cloud of fragrant steam behind him, wrapped in a white towel and still glistening. He’d shaved his face, and it lit up with an approving grin when he caught sight of me.

  “You look good.” He paused by his clothes, which I’d unpacked for him.

  I lifted my eyebrows and did a little turn.

  “Everything fit okay?”

  “Like a glove,” I said. “How did you know my sizes?”

  Julian fought not to smile and cleared his throat. “Dawn helped.”

  “Oh.”

  “But I picked out the jacket and the boots.”

  “Oh?” I glanced down at my feet. “Yeah, they’re cool.”

  “Pretty good taste, for a dinosaur.”

  “Jules.” I blew out a deep breath, prepared to launch into the long apology I’d been running over in my head all evening. He stepped close, filling my vision with an expanse of dewy golden skin. The words evaporated out of my head.

  He buried a hand in my hair, his thumb arcing over my cheek and lingering on my lips. “Alex, I…”

  “No, I’m sorry.” I dropped my gaze again. I’ve never been good at admitting I was wrong, but Julian deserved it. “I over-reacted. You were right.”

  Julian sighed, the muscles of his torso rippling in a very enticing manner. “I should remember all of this is so new to you. That you’re away from everything familiar, and how frightening it must be. It’s been so long for me, I forget. Besides.” He lifted my chin and studied my face. “It’s one of the things I like about you — that fight. You’re—”

  “Bitchy?” I offered.

  The corner of his mouth quirked. Damn, he had my ticket. All he had to do was make that face and I would list off my faults all day. I had it bad.

  “I was going to say scrappy.” His voice lowered, as if he was suddenly aware of how close we were. He leaned his head forward a few inches.

  I took a deep, bracing breath and carefully extracted myself from his embrace. “You need to put some clothes on.”

  Julian’s brow knit together. Confused was a cute look on him. “I thought we were making up.”

  “I thought I had to keep a cap on my vampy-powers,” I shot back.

  Julian sighed and I cast him a knowing glance. The sexual tension was smothering. It seemed ridiculous to ignore it. Every other thought that crossed my mind involved snatching the towel from around his waist.

  After a long silence, loaded with all the things we couldn’t say or do to each other, he said, “You’re right. But I hate leaving you with things like that.”

  He picked up one of his new shirts and ripped the tag off.

  I swallowed down my panic, but it left my voice tight. “What do you mean leaving me?”

  Julian pulled the shirt over his head and looked at me pointedly, his hands poised over the towel. As much as I wanted to see what was underneath, I didn’t want to get distracted from the topic at hand, so I turned around.

  “I have to do some investigating. I need to know why the Cloak told me one thing and Derek another.”

  I heard the rasp of a zipper and risked a peek over my shoulder “Isn’t that going to be risky?”

  “Yes, but we need to know.”

  “How long will you be gone?”

  Julian placed his hand on my shoulders and turned me to face him. His thumbs stretched to massage the base of my scalp. After a few circles, my whole spine was tingling. It was an unfair move, rendering me helpless to do anything but close my eyes and moan softly. Which was likely exactly what he wanted — it also left me incapable of arguing.

  “A few days. A week at the longest.” He spoke softly against my ear, his voice honey-coating the bitterness of the answer.

  “A week?” I squeezed out.

  Julian’s smooth cheek brushed over mine as he nuzzled my neck. “Can I trust you to wait for me that long?”

  So much was implied in his question, disguised as a tease. Would I wait for him? Was I waiting for him? Was he asking my permission, to leave me on good terms? My breath stuttered out as my mind churned over it. Why was it so hard to admit to Jules how much I wanted him? How much I wanted to finish what we’d started, how much I wanted to seal the deal and forge a new future with him?

  Because you want it too much.

  Even though again and again he proved me wrong, I was used to being screwed over by men I desired. The feelings Julian caused in me were usually my one-way ticket to calamity. I’d finally learned my lesson. So color me cautious.

  He made a sound that was knowing, reassuring, and wanting all at once. He pulled my hair back and pushed the edge of my collar down. His breath lighted over the sensitive flesh of my bite scar.

  I shuddered. The warmth of his body seeped into my back, and his leathery scent suffused my senses.

  “Did I ever tell you that I wanted you that first night? Even with your silly antics, and your attitude, your blood…” he growled and swept his hot tongue over my exposed flesh. “I almost claimed you then and there.”

  I was drowning in sensations, in his words, feeling just as lightheaded as I had then. Only three nights, and yet a lifetime ago.

  “You smelled like candied apples, but you tasted like the first strawberries of spring.” He placed a whisper of a kiss over my bite mark and snaked his arms around my waist, spinning me to face him and pulling me tight to his body.<
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  I lolled in his embrace, felt the truth of his words, literally, pressed between us. All the fight drained out of me on a sigh, and I surrendered to my feelings. It seemed so pointless to deny them.

  “Will you promise not to do anything rash while I’m gone?”

  “Yes.” I met his heated gaze, his face darkened with possession that sent my blood roiling to every erogenous zone in my body. “Yes, I’ll wait for you.”

  “Good.” He squeezed me. “Because when I get back, I intend to make you mine.”

  The words rumbled in his chest and thickened the air between us.

  I stared up at him, trembling with equal parts trepidation and desire.

  A satisfied smile curled his lips. He leaned forward and gave me a chaste kiss. “If you have any problems or questions, go right to Monique.”

  I let out a disapproving breath but nodded. I stomped down the thought that he was leaving at exactly the right time: right when things were starting to get pretty complicated between us. I couldn’t be positive what Julian felt, other than our mutual attraction and a desire to protect me, but I had already crossed into dangerous territory when it came to my feelings. I could feel the need for him like a drug, a magical tonic that could ease my internal turmoil. Julian had a good hold on my heart, and I was already too far gone to care if he squished it into mush.

  “Just…try to stay out of trouble.” Julian smirked, pulling on his boots and coat. His easy manner could mean so many things.

  “Sure thing, Jules,” I said. “Shouldn’t be too hard, stuck in this joint.”

  “I’ll see you in a couple of days.” He cut a dark, imposing figure in the doorway.

  I blinked, and he was gone.

  I stood there wondering how many times Julian would flit in and out of my life — like a flame that had suddenly gone out, casting my world into shadow. Then again, as long as he came back, did it matter? I was afraid I would wait for Julian a thousand times, as long as he came back to me. I would get mad at him for a thousand secrets, as long as he kept looking at me like that. And if he made me his…I shivered…I would be his forever. Body, heart, and soul.