by Sarah Fine
She clasped her hands together. “I need to get back to Psychopomps to try to stop him. I don’t know exactly how many votes he has, only that he says he has the majority he needs. If I can reach . . .” But even as she thought about it, she knew the truth. She remembered how each of the board members looked last night. Not a one of them was on her side, not even Rosaleen, not anymore. She raised her head and met Moros’s eyes. “I won’t be Charon for much longer,” she said, her voice breaking.
Her fingers rose to clutch her Charon’s Scope. “My father . . . He told me the fate of the Ferrys rested with me.” She bowed her head as her exhaustion and fear finally broke loose, exploding through her veins like the deadliest poison. “He would be so disappointed in me,” she said, swallowing back a sob.
Warm, strong arms wrapped around her in an instant, and Aislin stiffened, shocked, as they gently pulled her close. But instead of flinching away, she relaxed into the embrace, laying her head on Moros’s shoulder as he stroked her back. She needed this.
“You’re so wrong, Aislin. Your father took such pride in you,” he said, his voice uncharacteristically soft.
A tear slipped from Aislin’s eye as she wrapped her arms around Moros’s waist, craving his steady strength. “But I’ve failed. I’ve presided over the collapse of order, the destruction of the city, and dozens of unsanctioned deaths with no end in sight. I’m leaving my family with a catastrophe, one that’s worse for my leadership.” She gritted her teeth and squeezed her eyes shut, holding in a scream. She had worked so hard, for so many years. “I never expected it to end like this.”
“This is not the end, Aislin,” Moros said. She looked up to find him glaring down at her with steely eyes. “You’re forgetting who you are.”
“I know who I am. And what I am.” A failure.
“You’re dead on your feet. You’ve been through a hellish ordeal. And you’re facing the biggest challenge of your life. None of that changes who you are.” His gaze softened as he focused on her face. “And I, for one, am very thankful for that.”
She looked into his eyes, marveling at the cut of his cheekbones, the strong line of his jaw. She’d never believed touching the Lord of the Kere’s bare skin was possible, but now . . . Tentatively, her fingertips rose, and she bit her lip as they brushed his cheek, keenly aware of the burst of heat low in her belly. He closed his eyes, and she pulled back. “Is it unpleasant?”
“No, just a flash of black,” he murmured, “but it passes quickly if I’m expecting it. And now . . .”
“Now?”
He took her arm, his thumb caressing the inside of her wrist. Slowly, he guided her hand to his neck and held it there. His pulse ticked steady and powerful against her palm, and his lips parted as he tilted his head back. “Now I don’t want it to end.”
It was as if she’d shifted on her axis, and now he was true north, the only certain thing in a world that was falling apart. He inhaled sharply as her lips touched his throat, his hand sliding up her back to the nape of her neck. His fingers curled and tangled in her hair, then he pulled her face away. She felt a flash of disappointment—
Aislin gasped as his hot tongue swept along her bottom lip before plunging into her mouth. Moros anchored her against his body as he controlled the kiss, and Aislin welcomed it, an invasion she had secretly wished for during a thousand forbidden fantasies. Beads of sweat pricked at her temples as she ran her hands along his ribs to his hard chest. Being so near him was like sitting too close to a fire; getting burned was a definite possibility but one she was willing to risk for a taste of what he could offer.
She met each thrust of his tongue with her own, matching his violence with passion. As her arms slid around his neck, his hands traveled to her hips, holding her flush against his growing arousal and sending a zing of pleasure up her spine. She smiled against his mouth, triumph singing in her veins. His hands were addictive, spreading heat as they skimmed up under her sweater to meet her bare skin. With his fingers slipping higher, with her breaths halting and hurried, Aislin found it easy to forget all the misery and defeat that awaited her in Boston. This was all there was, and it was more than enough.
She was in the arms of death himself, and she’d never felt more alive.
He pulled away from her mouth and touched his forehead to hers, his eyes tightly closed, conflict etched across the planes of his handsome face. But when she lifted her chin and touched his lips with her own, he began the invasion anew, moaning as her breasts pressed to his chest, as she rolled her hips so he could feel the curves of her body. Suddenly her clothes felt thick and heavy, an unwanted barrier between them. She wanted more of him, more of his taste, his heat, his hard grip and commanding kiss. If she had to die, this would be an exceedingly pleasant way to go.
One of his hands curled around the back of her neck while the other cupped her backside, and Aislin felt his thick erection against her abdomen. She made a choked sound as his tongue trailed down her neck, as the sharp edges of his canines scraped against her sensitive flesh.
Harder. The word was about to roll off her tongue when he pushed her away, his chest heaving and his eyes glowing crimson.
“This is a mistake,” he muttered, turning away from her and running his hands through his hair.
Aislin shivered. This gray stone room, its high windows black with a starless night, or maybe deep within the Veil, was unheated and cold, something she hadn’t noticed with his body so close to hers. She stared at his back, at his strong fingers laced behind his head, waiting for him to say more. But he remained silent, staring at the unlit fireplace. “Jason—”
“Don’t fool yourself into thinking I’m something I am not.” He cursed. “This is a ridiculous game we’re playing, Aislin. It’s a distraction neither of us can afford.”
I may have only hours to live, she almost said, but then realized how pathetic that sounded. Did she really want him to kiss her because he pitied her? He thought she was a distraction, for God’s sake. Humiliation crystallized inside her, hard and brilliant as a diamond. Of course he had a different perspective. He was thousands of years old and had seen so much. Compared to him, she was a fleeting presence in this world, especially now.
She drew herself up and took a step back. “Agreed,” she said evenly, adopting the tone she used to speak to employees who disappointed her. “And perhaps, considering everything that’s happening in Boston, you shouldn’t have brought me here.”
Really, she should be thanking him. Less than an hour ago, she’d been scolding Hugh for trysting while everything was falling apart, and now she had done the same thing. It had been a moment of weakness she shouldn’t have indulged.
Moros looked over his shoulder at her, and for a moment she could have sworn she saw a glint of pain in his eyes. “You’re right,” he said. “It was impulsive, but fortunately, easily rectified.”
His hand shot out and closed around her wrist, and Aislin fought to stay upright as he yanked her into the Veil, through space, across the world. She had no idea how far they traveled, only that a moment later they appeared in her office. He let go of her immediately and stepped back. His dark, slashing brows were low, his mouth hard. Was he angry at her? Their attraction had been mutual—hadn’t it been?
She crossed her arms over her chest. “Now what?”
“Now I deal with the Shade-Kere, and you deal with your board. Then we meet with the Keepers and ask for their aid in dealing with the threat. Even if they refuse, we may be able to buy enough time to find Eris and the others before they can reach their goal.”
A quiet laugh escaped from her, despite the ache inside. “This time, you’re the one making it sound simple.”
“At the moment, simple is the best I can do.” He paused, his arms hanging loose at his sides, elegant and dangerous. “Aislin, I regret blurring the boundaries of our business relationship. You have my apologies.”
“I apologize as well. I suppose the stress got to me momentarily, as you so help
fully pointed out.”
He looked away. “I will update you when we’ve dealt with the threat to the city.”
By then, I might not be Charon anymore. He might be giving his updates to Hugh. She might be mortal. She might be dead. Suddenly, she wanted to be in his arms again, to ask him to carry some of this burden of fear and worry. But he clearly had no interest in doing any such thing, and he had more than enough to deal with already. “Very well. Good luck.”
“Luck is for mortals,” he said, vanishing.
She turned away, furious at the sting of tears in her eyes. He was right—what a ridiculous distraction. She couldn’t waste whatever time she had left fantasizing about Jason Moros, his devastating kisses, and his fiery hands as they slid across her skin. She had to try to bring some of the board members back to her side. She needed to call Cavan and ask him to be ready to bring the voice and favor of the Lucinae to the table. She had to be at her best, even though fatigue was making her head swim. She hadn’t slept in nearly two days.
“I’ll sleep when I’m dead,” she whispered, then jumped at the sound of sharp laughter.
It hadn’t come from her.
She looked over at her desk to find Rylan sitting there, feet up. “Your guards are still busy downstairs, lucky for them.” He gave her a bland smile. “You look so tired, Aislin. Rough day?”
Hatred boiled up, hot enough to pour strength into her muscles and keep her upright. “Father would be so ashamed of you. I know I am.”
“But he always respected people who got things done. How do you think he’d feel about what you’ve accomplished today? Humans meant to live long lives are being slaughtered in the streets, and you’re about to be voted out, a disgrace. I think he would be ashamed of you.”
She looked away before she could stop herself, and Rylan laughed. “You always cared so much about what he thought of you.”
“You say that as if it’s a bad thing.” She tensed as she heard his shoes moving along the floor toward her. She’d never been afraid of Rylan . . . until now.
“It’s a weakness to care what anyone thinks of you,” he said. “And it’s always been one of yours. It’s held you back in so many ways. It’s the reason why I always beat you.”
That brought her eyes back to his. “Did you?” she snapped. “Are you sure?”
He grimaced and took a step closer. “Any victory you might have claimed was pathetically temporary. And look at us now. Who would you say has the upper hand?”
Her fingers rose to her Scope. “Morally or physically?”
“Morally?” Rylan chuckled. “Oh, Aislin.” His eyes flashed red before he disappeared—and reappeared right in front of her.
She forced herself not to take a step back. “Get out of my office.”
He grinned. “As you wish.” He grabbed her arm and jerked her into the Veil, buffeting her with frigid air and burning wind before throwing her down roughly.
Aislin landed on her hands and knees on rocky ground, cutting her palms on sharp stones. Wincing, she raised her head to find herself in a massive cavern lit with hundreds of torches. Rylan stood smirking a few feet away, next to a dark-haired young woman wearing a dress more appropriate for a rooftop party than spelunking. Lounging on the rocks around them were two other people, one a stocky, bald young man in a T-shirt and jeans, and the other . . .
The blonde from Hugh’s office waved at her. “Told you I wasn’t a toy,” she said silkily.
The dark-haired woman next to Rylan clucked her tongue. “Nemesis, this woman is a guest. Be polite.” She took a step forward and bent low so she could speak right in Aislin’s face. “Hi there,” she said softly. “I’m so glad you took the time out of your busy schedule to come visit us.”
Aislin sat back on her knees. “You must be Eris.” She was out of breath from pain and fear but unwilling to cower. “Your brother is looking for you.”
Eris grinned, revealing her shiny white teeth. “Aw, does he miss me? I’ve certainly missed him. That’s why I’m going to send him a present.” She moved a little closer. “Rylan tells me Moros is quite fond of you,” she crooned. “So what better way to hurt him?” She gestured to Rylan, who strode over and squatted in front of her.
“Good luck, Aislin,” he told her as Eris ran her fingers through his hair, petting him like a dog. “Oh, and you won’t be needing this.”
His hand rose so quickly that Aislin couldn’t stop him from tearing her Scope from the chain at her throat. She cried out in pain and lunged as he stood up with the Scope of the Charon in his hand.
“Is that what this was about?” Aislin asked, her voice rising. “All of this destruction just so you could be Charon again?”
Rylan chuckled and slid his arm around Eris’s waist. “I don’t give a fuck about being Charon anymore, Aislin.”
Eris got on her tiptoes and kissed his cheek. “Get going.”
Rylan grinned down at her, then disappeared. Eris returned her attention to Aislin. “Shall we get better acquainted?” Her nostrils flared as she inhaled deeply. “Because I can smell my brother all over you, and I’ve got to say, that makes me curious.”
“Moros won’t rest until he stops you, no matter what you do to me.” He knows I’m already doomed.
Eris rolled her eyes. “I don’t want to hurt his feelings, darling. I want to see him on his knees, with a sword rammed through his gut.” Her lips curved in a fond, cheerful smile, and she gestured toward the stocky young man, who brandished a sword, its blade thin and razor-sharp, emanating a warm yellow glow. “That sword, to be precise. And you’re going to make that happen.”
“I’ll never help you hurt him,” Aislin said in a hollow voice, struck with horror at the image of Moros on his knees, vulnerable and defeated.
Nemesis appeared at her sister’s side, twisting a blonde lock of hair around one of her fingers. “Oh, honey, trust me. When we’re done with you, you’ll want to kill him more than we do, and that’s really saying something.”
With that, Eris and Nemesis reached out, each taking one of Aislin’s hands. The moment their skin touched hers, her mind exploded with hate.
CHAPTER NINE
Moros stood in the Veil, on the roof of a tenement at the edge of what had once been Boston Common, now a lawless swamp. Aching with throbbing, unsated need, and a violent anger, he looked toward the gray half-circle of sun rising in the east, peeking between the massive skyscrapers of downtown. He shuddered as he considered the magnitude of the mistake he’d just made.
Aislin’s taste was still in his mouth. Her scent was on his hands, his clothes—a delicate violet that made his heart race. Her face was in his mind—her creamy skin flushed with desire, her full lips swollen from the force of his kiss, her gaze sliding over him like a curious caress. It was all he could do to stop himself from going straight back to her.
No one had ever affected him like this. No woman had ever embedded herself in his thoughts as she had. The impending betrayal by Hugh, the specter of her life ending . . . fury tore through him, lengthening his claws and turning his world crimson. How had she become this important?
You’ve been intrigued by her for years, his thoughts whispered.
But this was different. More dangerous. Now his head was full of relentless fantasy, of the need to feel her beneath him, panting and willing. He raked his hands through his hair. “Stop,” he said and focused on his Kere.
He took a deep breath and let it out, and then began to call each of his subjects to mind, one by one, soul by soul. He kept his eyes closed as he heard them materializing around him, concentrating on the next and the next and the next. The first he summoned were his most experienced, and they remained silent as their brethren appeared around them. He could feel their heat, their power, and he smiled.
When he was certain he had enough, he called one more—and opened his eyes as Eli Margolis appeared right in front of him, fangs bared. “Can’t this wait?” he snarled.
Moros arched an eyeb
row. “I’m sure Cacia can do without you for a few minutes.”
Eli’s angular face contorted with frustration. “Not when she’s fighting a horde of Shade-Kere trying to kill everyone in the North End!”
“That’s why I’ve gathered you here.” Moros raised his arms, turning to the group of Kere he had called to him, summoned from every corner of the world. Some of them were hundreds of years old. He felt a pang of sadness as he realized Trevor would be standing here, too, if his soul hadn’t been stolen by enemies. But he couldn’t focus on his losses—he still had his most loyal Kere with him, and he needed them now more than ever. “We are going to war, my friends,” he told them. “And make no mistake, to lose is to face extermination.”
Hai, his black hair pulled back, his wiry body taut with readiness, scowled. He was one of the ancient ones, his loyalty stretching all the way back to the rebellion two thousand years ago. “Is that a threat?”
“Not from me,” Moros told him. “Some of my sisters and my brother are determined to awaken an ancient enemy who could destroy us all. They have created an army of their own by stealing the souls of Shades here in the Veil and turning the creatures loose in the real world to wreak havoc. As Eli said, they’re Marking and killing innocents who were never meant to die, and it is fraying the fabric of fate at an alarming rate.”
Eli turned to look at the others, who were crowded on the roof, crouching on the solar panels, perched on the half walls that bounded the space. “They disappear as soon as they’re really challenged. It’s made it impossible to keep up with them. They’re as strong as we are and hard to take down. The Ferrys have gotten a few through portals to Hell, but they’re suffering because of it.” Eli’s fingers were curled into fists. It was clear he was desperate to get back.
“You will crush them,” Moros said. “Before this day is over, I want all of them dead.”