by Sarah Fine
“Only a little,” Aislin said in a choked voice. “But it’s all right. It’s good, actually.” She cleared her throat. “It was helpful. I know what I need to do, and that’s why I’m here.”
“Rylan wanted you to help him take Moros down, didn’t he?”
Aislin nodded. “Aligning with Moros is the only way forward. But he doesn’t trust me, and I need him to.” She looked down at her hands, open and helpless in her lap. “So what I need to know is . . . what happened when he touched you?”
Cacia’s hand fell away from Aislin’s arm. “What? Why? You can’t be serious. You’re actually thinking of letting him touch you?”
“Maybe. That’s why I need to know what it’s like. I want to be prepared.”
Cacia swallowed and lowered herself all the way to the floor, sitting cross-legged, like a child. She rubbed her palms on the legs of her pants. “It’s . . . um . . .” She let out a weak chuckle. “Well, it pretty much sucks.”
“Did you see your future?”
Cacia’s face crumpled, and Aislin immediately regretted asking. But her little sister pulled herself together quickly, scrubbing her hands over her face before raising her head. “Yes. I saw what was supposed to be my future. Of course, it didn’t turn out that way.” She glanced toward the hallway, perhaps thinking of Eli and what he’d become. “It was like all the years of my life splashing and crunching inside my brain all at once. Agony is the only way to describe it. And when it was over, I thought my life was over, too. It felt like it had already been lived, like there was nothing left.”
“But clearly there was. You kept living. You seem sane.”
Cacia’s eyes narrowed.
“All right. You are sane. And you have endured tremendous hardship since then and managed to emerge intact—with Eli at your side.”
“Eli is a big part of why I’m intact,” Cacia said quietly. “He came to me and put me back together right when I needed it. But Moros’s touch . . . it leaves a scar, okay? You might not be able to see it, but it’s always there.”
Hesitantly, Aislin reached out and ran her hand over Cacia’s soft hair. “You must have been very determined, if you let him do that.”
“I was trying to protect Galena and Eli,” Cacia whispered. “Moros said he could feel not only how much I wanted to save them, but how desperate I was to protect what was meant to be. He told me that it made him even more determined to do the same.”
Aislin stared at her sister, admiring the raw resolve that drove her—so powerful that it had even influenced the Lord of the Kere. Aislin hoped she had even half as much resolve, considering the stakes. “And I need to protect our entire family from whatever’s coming. This is our best chance.”
Cacia interlaced her fingers with Aislin’s. “Moros can see your future, too, when he touches you. He’ll know who you love and what you want. He’ll know everything.”
Aislin’s stomach tensed. Allowing anyone to know that much about her, let alone a man like Moros, was terrifying. But she had no choice. “So he’d know whether I was going to betray him.”
Cacia looked thoughtful. “Theoretically.”
“And if he knew I wasn’t going to, he’d trust me.”
“How do you know what he’s going to see? You can’t really, Aislin. You’re messing with something out of your control.”
Aislin threw her head back and laughed. “I feel like that’s my new hobby.”
“But this is . . . inside you.” Cacia looked haunted at the memory, her turquoise eyes wide and shining. “You’re letting him in your head. And I think he gets off on it.”
Aislin sat back, her cheeks heating and her breath quickening as a thousand confusing thoughts and sensations cascaded through her body. “Oh,” was all she could say.
Cacia arched an eyebrow. “Or . . . maybe you wouldn’t mind that so much.”
“Of course I would!” Wouldn’t she? The thought of Jason Moros with his hands on her sister made her want to slap him. But the thought of his hands on her own skin? She was ashamed to admit this wasn’t the first time she’d thought about it. “It just seems like the quickest way to show him I’m serious about being allies. The summit with the Keepers is in less than three days, and if we go before them divided, I have a feeling they’re going to choose one side or the other—and we might lose.”
Cacia squeezed her hand. “Just be sure, okay? I know you’re a dedicated Charon, Aislin. And I know everybody wants you on their side. I saw how awful you felt about what happened with Dec and Galena. I know this is hard, and you want to do the right thing. But . . . be careful.”
Aislin looked into her little sister’s eyes. “Thank you,” she whispered.
Cacia gave her a pained smile. “You’re my sister, Aislin. I don’t want anyone to hurt you. And Moros? Sometimes I wonder if he enjoys causing pain.” She rose on her knees and slid her arms around Aislin.
Aislin stiffened with surprise but let her sister enfold her, slowly leaning forward to hug her back. Her arms ached from where Rylan had squeezed them, but the bruises would be gone by the time she got home. Her head throbbed, and she knew sleep would ambush her at some point. She needed to be strong enough to handle her next meeting with Moros. She needed to be ready.
She let herself enjoy being hugged by her sister for another long moment, realizing that this was something she had missed, for so long. “I’m proud of you, Cacia,” she said quietly.
Cacia sniffled, her head buried against Aislin’s shoulder. “I’m proud of you, too, Aislin.”
They broke their hug, both swiping at tears with their sleeves. “I guess I’d better get back to work,” Cacia said, rising from the floor and turning away, giving Aislin a moment to compose herself.
Aislin stood up. “Thanks for meeting with me.” She placed her hand on Cacia’s shoulder for a moment before stepping out of the office and heading back down the hall, toward her waiting car. As soon as she slid onto the seat and the driver had closed the door, Aislin pulled out her phone. She stared at the screen for a long time.
And then she dialed Jason Moros’s number.
CHAPTER FIVE
Moros appeared outside Aislin Ferry’s door and paused. The last few hours had been a maelstrom of rage and helplessness. He was willing to bet his existence that Eris had found a way to claim the Blade, and now she had the means to destroy him, if she dared to get close enough. But he knew her—she was no warrior. She enjoyed causing pain, but through manipulation, not direct confrontation. With Nemesis and Apate’s help, she would find a way to divide any coalition Moros tried to build. She would go after every ally he had.
And now he was standing outside the Charon’s apartment door, wondering if her invitation was a trap, if perhaps hers was the hand Eris would use to strike. He bowed his head and chuckled. If that was the case, at least the blow would come from a beautiful woman. It would be a pity to destroy her, but he’d do it if he had to.
He reached up and tapped the screen, and the door clicked open immediately. She’d been waiting. He pushed the door ajar and waited, on guard.
She pulled it wide, and her eyes met his. Her platinum hair fell in loose waves down her back, and instead of her usual suit, she wore a pair of slacks and a cashmere tunic. Casual, but still undeniably stately. “Thank you for coming,” she said, gesturing him inside.
He pushed down his surprise at the change in her appearance. Barefoot, she seemed so much smaller than in her usual heels that made her nearly as tall as he was. Now she looked soft and vulnerable, two things he would have thought she’d try hard to avoid in a meeting with him. He took her in, including her hands and slender fingers, and saw no weapons. He looked around, wondering where she might have stashed the Blade.
“I was intrigued,” he said, adopting a casual tone. “Not everyone gets an invitation to the Charon’s home.”
She glanced at her surroundings as if wondering what he might notice. It was as tidy as a pin, and he would have expected no less. T
he decor was elegant and modern but not frilly or fanciful: simple cream-colored couches and chairs, cushions that provided hints of color, paintings and knickknacks that spoke of her years dealing with business partners all over the world. Everything flowed, streamlined and organized but still beautiful, like Aislin herself. “I didn’t really feel safe at Psychopomps,” she said quietly.
His eyes snapped back to her as she closed the door. Her hands were trembling, just the slightest bit, but he felt the unsteadiness in his gut. “What happened?”
She turned to him. “Rylan assaulted my guards and appeared in my office.” She folded her arms, looking so vulnerable that Moros had the sudden urge to move close and shield her from the specter of her brother.
Which might be exactly what she wanted—it would be an excellent opportunity to slide a blade between his ribs. He stayed where he was. “Did he hurt you?”
She shook her head, but he could tell she was lying. And he couldn’t stop himself from indulging in a momentary fantasy of tearing Rylan Ferry’s head from his neck. The former Charon had caused Moros so much irritation over the years, intruding on his meetings with Patrick Ferry, constantly complaining about the Kere, suggesting a new rule every week to “manage” the Kere’s money. He’d never liked Rylan. But now?
Now he craved the man’s blood on his hands.
Still, that didn’t mean he could trust Aislin. “So it was a social call,” Moros said, making sure to sound indifferent. Unconcerned.
Her eyes met his, and he read the pain there. “He wants me to join him.”
“Not surprising at all, my dear. Did you call me here to renege on our agreement?” He’d actually dared to hope Aislin would be steadfast in her commitment to fate. And to him.
“No,” she said, straightening and letting her hands fall to her sides. “I invited you here to cement our alliance.”
He gave her a close-lipped smile. “Haven’t we already done that?”
Her eyes narrowed. “I don’t think so. We might have shaken hands, but you’re still keeping secrets. I know you don’t trust me.”
“I don’t trust anyone,” he admitted. “To do so would be rather naive, don’t you think?”
To his surprise, she nodded instead of arguing. Then again, Aislin was one of the few beings able to surprise him.
She was staring at him, those ice-blue eyes riveted on his face. “How can we work together if I don’t know what you’re trying to accomplish?” she asked, taking a step closer to him. He let her come, but had to restrain the urge to strip off his gloves. She tilted her head as she noted his tension. “You look like you think I’m going to attack you, Jason.”
He smiled. “You’re the only one apart from my sisters who calls me that.” And even with them, it was rare.
“Isn’t it your name?”
It was the name he’d chosen as he’d joined the modern world, not the one he’d been born with. “Perhaps, but others prefer to use the name of myth, the one that makes clear they know what I am.” He watched her as she took another step closer. He could smell her now, a hint of spring violets tempered by honey, and the scent made his blood run hot. His fingers twitched. “But you, my dear, I suspect you prefer to think of me as human.”
She smiled. “I’ve never once thought of you as human. But would you prefer I call you Moros?”
“No,” he said, caught off guard by his own honesty. “I suppose I wouldn’t. But I would like to know what you’re up to.”
“I need you to trust me. And I want to trust you.”
“I wouldn’t be standing in front of you if I didn’t trust you at least a little.”
She took another step forward. She was now only a foot away. He could hear her heart beating inside her chest, could feel the tension in her body—
“You’re lying,” she whispered. “I don’t think you trust me at all.”
He could feel his eyes sparking with crimson as hers traced his face. “Just tell me what you want,” he said.
“I want you to touch me.”
He blinked at her, unable to contain his shock. “What?”
Her fingers rose to his face, but he stepped out of her reach just in time. “Do you have any idea what would happen to you if our skin touched?” he asked, wishing his heart would slow.
“I talked to Cacia. I know exactly what would happen.”
“And did she explain the toll?” His fists clenched. The mere idea of touching Aislin had awakened a shaky hunger inside him, but also an anger. No one had the right to affect him like this. He set the tempo. He was the one in control. “Did she tell you what I took from her?”
Aislin bowed her head, and her hair slid over her shoulder, finely spun platinum catching the light. “She did. But I’ve decided it would be worth it. I think you need to see my future. You need to see that I’m not going to betray you.”
He shook his head. “You have no idea what I’ll see.” And neither did he, oddly enough. He edged to the side, so that one of her couches was between them. Usually, he caught wisps of people’s destinies if they were near him, but he couldn’t sense Aislin’s. That might be a result of her distracting him, though, or his own lack of concentration after failing to retrieve the Blade. “You can’t know your own future, Aislin.”
“Don’t my intentions matter? Doesn’t my will?”
He wished she’d stay still and give him a moment to think, but she was already moving around the couch, closing the distance between them again. Determined and unstoppable, like he’d always known her to be. “It will change everything,” he warned, his voice strangely deep and unsteady.
Her hand slipped along the upholstery of the couch. “I know,” she murmured. “It’s a sacrifice I’m willing to make for the sake of the Ferrys.”
A sacrifice. Suddenly, he wanted to roar with frustration. Allowing him to touch her skin was a sacrifice, an unwanted burden. But she was so close, and so enticing, and she was offering something he rarely refused.
A touch, skin to skin. A taste of life, of destiny. Both at once.
And with Aislin, it came with an added benefit. If the Charon was going to betray him, he would know. Servant of Fate or not, he would be ready for her to try, and ready to destroy her. She wouldn’t be able to get the best of him. His brow furrowed. Either way, touching her would give him what he needed. Certainty. He raised his hands and tugged at the fingers of his gloves, deliberate and unhurried. He wanted her to see every movement.
Aislin’s heart raced. He could hear it, addictive and frantic, ticking away the seconds of her life. It made his mouth water, and for more than just a taste of her future. “You’ll do it?” she asked as he pocketed his gloves.
“Oh, yes,” he said, keenly aware of the stirring inside him. He needed to push that away and focus on what he might see, but it was driving him now, rushing through his veins, awakening buried cravings. “How could I turn down such an offer?”
Her pupils dilated, possibly with fear. “Should . . . should I sit down?”
“No, my dear,” he said quietly as he moved closer. It took all his restraint not to yank her into his arms and crush her against him. Her chest rose and fell to the rapid cadence of her breathing, drawing his gaze to her breasts. “I’ll be holding you up.”
Her fingers curled into the soft cushion of the couch. It looked like she was trying to keep herself from running away. He almost wanted her to, because now the hunter in him had been loosed, and he longed for a chase. But Aislin merely widened her stance and waited for him to approach.
Brave. And dangerous, his thoughts whispered. But so tempting.
She held out her arm, as if to shake hands. “I’m ready.”
He smirked. “That’s not how this is going to happen.” With one step, he brought himself so close that her palm was on his chest. His hands were at his sides, clenched into tight fists. The feel of her filled him with raw desire. “We can’t go back after I do this.”
She looked up at him, her pale eyes
fathomless. “I know. So let’s move forward instead.”
Her palms slid from his chest to his ribs, and he had to suppress a sudden shiver that coursed straight down his back. Her face was inches from his, her lips soft and pink. He closed his eyes to keep himself from leaning down to taste them. He would have to be gentle. And alert. He couldn’t allow his desire for her body to interfere. Slowly, he slid an arm around her waist, nearly groaning as he felt her temperature rise—from fear or need, it barely mattered. He spread his fingers across the soft cashmere of her sweater, feeling the smooth expanse of her back, only a thin layer of fabric keeping them apart. As soon as his fingers brushed her skin, she would lose control, and he mustn’t allow her to fall. He pulled her even closer, eager to see what she would look like, helpless under his hands. But the moment her lithe frame settled against him, her hips to his and her breasts pressed to his chest, he stopped breathing. Sweet heaven, nothing had ever felt so blindingly delicious. He let out a breath and opened his eyes to find her staring at him, her lips parted.
He gritted his teeth. If he didn’t dive in now, he was going to kiss her, and that would be disastrous. “Let’s begin.”
She pressed her lips together and closed her eyes as his hand rose, as he held her tightly, as he laid his palm on her cool, smooth cheek.
Moros gasped as the room disappeared, along with everything in it. The floor vanished beneath his feet, plunging him into a bottomless abyss. With Aislin still snug in his arms and his eyes wide open, he fought the wash of darkness filling his mind. His heart pounded as if he were running for his life. His body screamed for air as his hand slid down her face and curled around her neck. Deep inside the roaring silence in his mind, he could faintly hear her voice, but he couldn’t make out what she was saying, couldn’t tell if it was now or in the future, couldn’t catch a single word even though the sound was louder with each passing second.
“Jason!”
He jerked away from her, nearly stumbling over the end of the couch.