by J. L. Madore
I tap my nose. “You’re not ovulating.”
I sigh. “Okay, I get that wildlings have heightened senses but ew, a girl needs some privacy.”
A knock ends that conversation and I jog over to answer the door. My grip tightens on the knob as I see who is waiting in the corridor. “Keyla, what are you doing here?”
My sister has the good sense to drop her gaze and look abashed. “I came to apologize to you and your mate. My behavior was childish and unbecoming.”
Calli steps in behind me and wraps her arm around the back of my hips. “You torpedoed your brother after he asked you flat out not to. Because of that, your parents are treating him like dog shit stuck to the bottom of their glass slippers. That’s on you.”
Her face falls. She grips her braid and worries the plaits with her fingers. “And I apologize.”
Calli shakes her head. “No. You don’t get to say a few words of remorse and erase your guilt. You fanned the flames in this mess, what will you do to make it right?”
“I don’t know…” Her gaze narrows and she shifts her gaze to me. “You forgive me, don’t you? You know I didn’t mean to cause this much trouble.”
“How much trouble were you hoping for?” I ask. “I covered for you our whole life. Before we came here in our early teens, we were the best of friends. When did you lose that girl and become a selfish, judgmental…”
“Brat?” Calli says. “I think the word you’re searching for is spoiled, selfish, judgmental brat.”
Keyla’s eyes grow glassy and for a moment I see a flash of the sister I once loved more than anyone else on the planet. I feel her sorrow. Although she’s never without staff and suitors fawning over her, she’s lonely.
I sigh and brush a hand down the sleeve of her silk blouse releasing a comforting touch. “Figure out how bad it is and maybe we can come up with a way to settle them down together. But I mean it, Keyla. Don’t pull something like that again. I’ve got my own life now. If it means walking away from all of you to keep my happiness, I will.”
Jaxx
“So, the reports you file after a security breach within the public eye are submitted to the district office and then compiled and sent to FCO head office to the risk assessment office. Once they determine if all the T’s are crossed and the I’s are dotted, head office sends an electronic copy here that is printed and filed.
“Yep.” Brant’s focus is completely consumed by the stack of birth registration certificates he’s going through. “At least that’s what’s supposed to happen.”
“So, either someone at the district office altered or shredded them and they never got sent, or the record of those kids was plucked from the system between there and here.”
“No. Every responding enforcer gets a file notification when our cases are approved and sent on to head office. I write down the tracking number and mark it off against my records. The files definitely made it to head office.”
“Frickety-frack.” I scratch the back of my neck. “Okay, well, I asked my dad to run a quick data check through his department to see if those names are listed. If the kids’ powers were recognized early, maybe Fae Rights flagged them.”
Brant’s glare is wholly piss-your-pants hostile. “I swore you to secrecy, Jaguar. Your dad using his company connections to investigate this is the opposite of conducting a low-profile search. What if whoever is behind this gets flagged if his search is detected? He might inadvertently tip our hand.”
“Tip our hand of what? There’s no record anywhere of anythin’ you say. How do we prove there’s wrongdoing if we can’t even prove these kids are real?”
Brant points a finger at me. “You should’ve run this by me first, Jaxx. Whoever is behind this makes people disappear. Poof. Gone. If your dad mentions this to the wrong person—”
“—He won’t,” I say, my chest suddenly tight. “I told him to keep it quiet. He’ll be discreet.”
Brant gives me another ocular version of fuck you and goes back to his birth records. “Our problems are bigger than that anyway.”
Awesome “Yeah? How’s that?”
“Those three kids aren’t the only members of fae society who were never born or registered.”
“No? Who else is missing?”
“No. Not missing, just not who he says he is. There is no record of any Hawk Barron ever being born. The guy’s lying and has been for years.”
Fuckety-fuck. “Maybe it’s a clerical error.”
“Or maybe he’s Darkside and is a sleeper agent rising through the ranks to topple fae diplomacy. Think about it. Is it more likely that he’s a poor street kid who remade himself a billionaire or that he’s got dirty money behind him? Maybe Calli and her bestie stumbled on the money venture Darkside’s been using to fund Hawk’s cover.”
“I don’t believe that. He’s got his issues but—”
“What if choking Calli wasn’t an accident? I was there, Jaxx. That son-of-a-bitch was full-on homicidal and crushing the breath out of her. Maybe that was another attempt on her life from Darkside.”
It’s a good thing I’m sitting down because that possibility makes my legs tremble. What if Brant is right? Has the universe put the male triggering the need to open the portal gate right in our lap? Has Hawk been gift-wrapped for us to stop?
“I need a drink.”
“Now you’re catching on,” Brant quips, nodding. “Start giving my theory some merit and believe me when I say there’s danger afoot. Hawk isn’t who he says he is, and we need to prove it for all our sakes.”
Calli
Kotah and I finish with our afternoon meditation and I hit the showers thinking I’m making strides in connecting with my phoenix. We made friends, as Kotah calls it, and I can call the power to the fore and ease it back with some degree of confidence. He assures me once I have command of my powers, I’ll be able to explode into a fifteen-foot bird with a flaming wingspan of thirty feet. How terrifying is that?
Fresh from the shower, I towel off and pull on a pair of stretch pants and Riley’s old Cal Tech sweatshirt. We found it at a thrift store when we were twenty-two and she used to wear it and pretend we lived different lives.
I stare at the mirror as I pull a brush through my wet hair. Damn it, Riley. I miss you to the depths of my battered soul.
Try as I might, no matter how meditative I get or how much I call her to me, the ghost of Riley present hasn’t come back to check in.
Maybe Hawk is right, and I imagined the whole thing.
The thump, thump, thump on the door of the suite is a real fist-pounder, so I head out with my brush in hand to make sure someone’s around to get it. Jaxx is way ahead of me and lets in Brant, Doc, and Kotah, each with their arms full.
“What’s all this?” I say, rushing to help Kotah with some of the bottles he’s juggling.
“It’s a party in the making, beautiful,” Brant says, setting his box on the counter. “We’ve got liquor and a blender and ice and little umbrellas and everything we need to have ourselves one helluva bash.” He sets down his box and points. “Doc, set up the pong table there.”
Doc carries the folding table into the center of our training space. Jaxx grabs the red solo cups from Brant’s box and starts setting up.
As much as it saddens me that we’re planning our first big blowout night without Hawk, there’s no slowing the roll of this party bus. “Did anyone bring food?”
Kotah chuckles. “I have the food, don’t worry. I won’t let you or your phoenix go hungry. Adahy sent up all my favorites and some things she thought you might like as well.”
All right, I say, pulling stacked trays of nourishment out of Kotah’s box. “Then we can begin. Who’s Mr. D.J. tonight?”
Hawk
“So, tomorrow at ten-thirty,” Jayne says, consulting the agenda on her tablet, “the pixie queen is hosting a champagne brunch and asks you to speak to the loss of green space within large city centers. Then, you’re back at the castle at one for three back
-to-back sessions. At six, you deliver closing remarks, and then we all go home.”
My phone vibrates against my front hip and I catch myself before I smile and fish it out. Hawk Barron, billionaire business mogul isn’t pussy-whipped and missing his mate. He’s cool and controlled, no matter how much of an act it is.
“Today went well, Jayne. I’ll meet you in the lobby tomorrow morning at ten.”
The female may have lost my faith as a companion and friend, but there is no denying she’s meticulous in all manner of my business. Her entire family is made up of wealthy, powerful fae. No lackluster offspring allowed.
“Since it doesn’t appear that you will be returning to the office any time soon. I need another hour of your time to go over the land contracts and a few other pressing matters which need your attention.”
Another text buzzes against my hip and I curse.
Sometimes it sucks being a billionaire business mogul. “Fine. One hour, I’ll get a table in the lounge.”
Jayne flips her hair back. It’s so black it shines blue in the ambient light of the lobby of the Bastion main lodge. “The documents are in the company cabin. It makes no sense to go there, get everything, simply to bring it back here, and have nowhere to set it out properly. You’re being childish, darling.”
I glare. “You no longer call me that.”
She sighs, her face lined with frustration. “You’re being childish, Hawk. You’ve been alone with me a million times and survived to tell the tale. Do you honestly think I’ll try to seduce you or compromise you in some way?”
“In a heartbeat.”
Another text comes in and I can’t stand it. “Excuse me one moment,” I say to Jayne stepping away.
I call up my texts and read the three missives from Calli.
Druck dialing you. Booty call.
I won pina colada pong. Suck it, Bear.
Give that beotch Jane the finger from me. The middle one.
I close my eyes and reign in my exasperation. I’m all for unwinding and sluffing off the pressures of life, but Calli is under heavy scrutiny from the fae world and the royal family and she’s currently in the palace aaaand has had more near-death close calls in the past two weeks than I care to recount.
The four of them getting pissed drunk is not the answer.
I shuffle back to where Jayne is chatting with a dryad minister. “Excuse the interruption ladies. Jayne, I’m sorry, but something has come up. I’ll see you in the morning.”
Before she has a chance to rebut, I turn and collide straight into—“Damn, John, I’m sorry.” I steady Jaxx’s father after practically bowling him over. “I was preoccupied and not paying attention.”
The jaguar smiles and it’s as easy and genuine as golden boy’s. “My fault, son. I wanted to speak to you privately before you rushed off. My meetings are over, and Maggie and I are heading home in the morning. Will you be speaking to Jaxx tonight?”
“I’m headed there now, yes.”
“Good, can you let him know that the matter he asked me to investigate was as fruitless as what all y’all came up with. Those names didn’t turn up anywhere in the Fae Rights database either. As much as I hate to think there is corruption in the FCO head office, I can’t explain it any other way. You’ve got a real mystery on your hands, son.”
I blink and feign a level of calm I don’t feel in any way. “Yes, I sure do.”
CHAPTER ELEVEN
Calli
“No, you cheat,” I say, scowling at my almost naked bear with my fists poised. “That was a point and you know it. Drop ’em and give me twenty.”
I point to the ground and Brant relents. He peels off the last of his clothes with a cocky grin and gives me a frontal view of a hip waggle. “I let you win.”
“Bullshit.” My mind goes wooly, staring at the dangling temptation of his freed cock. There are showers and there are growers. Brant is a shower. Oh, and what a show.
He stiffens and then tips like a massive oak free-falling to the floor, catching himself on his broad palms. Then the breathtaking show of his muscles flexing begins as he gives me another rep of his special military-style push-ups.
“Man, I could watch that ass dimple all night long.”
Jaxx snorts at the stove and pulls out midnight nachos. “You have been watchin’ it all night.”
“Yes, I have.” I grin and move closer. “Okay, pause, Bear. Bonus round, I’m climbing aboard.”
“Are you sure that’s a good idea, Chigua,” Kotah says, stumbling over to steady me. His concern whispers through my cloud of tequila and rum and I love him for it. “You just said you don’t feel well.”
Did I? I gauge my buzz and though the world is spinny and my tummy is sloshy, I feel gooood. “Yep, I’m sure. I lean forward, brace my hands on his shoulders, and climb aboard the bear plank fun ride.
The upsy-downsy resumes, and I decide Kotah is right. My throat thickens with the urge to hurl and I dismount. It’s not graceful and I hit the floor with a crash of ass, elbows, and—ouch—the back of my head.
Strong hands scoop me into the air, and I press my cheek against a crisp, silk dress-shirt. I startle and drop my head back to verify. The world blurs in a dizzying spin but yep, that harsh steel-gray scowl makes my stomach tilt-a-whirl even more.
“You came!” I cling to Hawk’s chest and for one brief second all is right in my world—and then that brief second ends. “I’m gonna throw up.”
A rush of panic churns my full belly. My pina cola margarita mash-up pushes at the back of my throat and ejects. Somehow, I’m doubled over the kitchen sink, my hands braced on the counter.
“Yes, Spitfire,” he says, with quiet disapproval. “I came. And just in the nick of time, it seems.”
Hawk
I clasp Calli’s hair away from her face as she retches her night’s misadventures into the stainless-steel basin. Wearing only her bra and panties, it’s easy to gauge that her skin is clammy, and her muscles are trembling with the efforts of emptying alcohol from her system. She heaves forward again and again, and my hawk’s fury rages free.
“How much did she drink?”
Kotah looks at me and sobers. “She lost margarita pong but won the pina colada round.”
“And we had a few lemon drop shooters,” Jaxx adds, bringing over a plate of nachos.
Kotah steadies himself on the counter on her other side and places a soothing hand on her back. His touch brushes my hand and the magical energy he commands tingles into my hand and up my arm.
I shift to end the contact, in no mood to be placated.
Doc comes out of the washroom and my pique doubles. What. The. Fuck. “Party’s over, Bear. You need to leave.”
The male has the good sense not to argue.
Brant rises from the floor, naked and looking pissed. “Hey, he was here on my invitation. What gives you the right to barge into our party and order my friend out?”
“He’s a control freak,” Calli sputters, her voice echoing in the steel confines of her current position.
“Calli is scantily dressed and altered by alcohol and you invite another male to see her? What the fuck is wrong with you three? He may be your friend but he’s not one of us.”
“And you are?”
Brant’s counter shouldn’t bother me. It does. As often as I made it clear I don’t want to be one of them, it pierces me through the heart to walk into their party and know I wasn’t missed or wanted.
I grab a plastic cup and shift the faucet to the far edge of the sink to run the water cold. “Swish, spit, and then drink.”
“So dicta…tur…torial”
“Dictatorial,” I say, easing her struggle with the word. “Yes, I’m dictatorial, now do as I say.”
Her submission is the only thing that keeps my fury caged.
I turn my anger on Jaxx, busily munching on tortilla chips. He’s naked other than the apron tied around his waist and it hits me that my life is now some kind of a hedonistic free-for-
all. “I ran into your father tonight and he mentioned the search you had him do? You’re investigating corruption in the head office? What’s that about and why didn’t you come to me?”
The guilt that consumes the jaguar’s expression says it all.
Another dagger through the heart. I nod to Kotah to take care of Calli and round the island of the kitchen to face my accuser. “You think I’m corrupt? You’re investigating me?”
Jaxx shakes his head and darts a worried gaze to Brant.
I shift gears and it clicks. “No, you are the one vying for FCO investigations. It’s you who thinks I’m dirty and you’re digging around behind my back to prove it.”
Brant shrugs. “What? You already admitted to investigating us. It’s no different.”
“Like fuck it’s not. I gathered facts about your lives to pull together a composite picture of what we are as a team of five. You’re on a witch hunt with a clear objective to discredit me. That’s a big fucking difference.”
“Okay, well if I’m so off-base let’s start with who the fuck you are because no Hawk Barron was born into the fae.”
I grunt and roll my eyes. “I was born Sabastian Barron Whitehouse the fifth in a small town outside of London. My family is a bunch of twisted, sadistic fucks, so I hopped on a boat at fifteen and reinvented myself. All of which, I would have told you if you asked.”
Brant chuffs, advancing on me. “Bullshit, you tell us nothing. We’re the grunts you’re saddled with not your mates. You don’t interact with us, you handle us. We’re pawns in your fucking chess game, right? I bet getting mated to the guardian squad fucked up your plans.”
The way he says that tweaks my last nerve. “Unbelievable, you think I’m the Black Knight.”
Brant
At six-foot-four, the avian emanates stone-cold killer on a good day. This is obvi not one of those. His murderous intent takes him over a split-second before he bends at the waist and rushes me like a defensive tackle going after a takedown. He hits me like a tank bashing through a brick wall and the suite spins. Ass-planted and back-flatted on the floor, my face gets up close and personal with the guy’s silver ring.