by I. T. Lucas
She patted his shoulder. “It’s for a good cause. Besides, I put some away in the fridge. You can have it later.”
He looked down at the tray sadly. “By the time I’m back upstairs, there will be nothing left. Your roommates are going to finish it.”
“Then I’ll make more. Stop fretting.”
As they made their way down to the basement, Carol could barely contain her excitement, and as they stopped in front of Lokan’s cell, and Arwel transferred the tray to her, she waited impatiently for him to punch in the code.
“Why aren’t you using your phone to open it?”
He cast her a sidelong glance. “I’m an old dog who’s used to the keypad.”
When the door started moving, Carol took in a deep breath and plastered a smile on her face.
She was anxious, but not afraid. After surviving Sebastian, there wasn’t much that could scare her. She’d been through the worst. Besides, she wasn’t expecting trouble from Lokan.
This was going to be fun.
“Wait here,” Arwel told her as he entered.
“Good afternoon, Arwel. I was wondering when you’d come to visit me.”
The smooth, cultured voice matched the image she held in her mind. As her excitement rose a notch or two or a hundred, Carol was glad of the strong perfume she’d sprayed herself with, and the aroma wafting off the beef stroganoff.
She was supposed to play coy and let Lokan do the seducing. Powerful men didn’t appreciate prey just falling into their laps. They were conquerors, not scavengers.
“I have a special treat for you, Lokan. Today’s lunch is not going to be sandwiches. Sit on the couch and don’t make any sudden moves.”
“My curiosity is piqued. What’s that delicious smell?”
“You’ll find out in a moment.” Arwel stepped out of the room. “Do you want me to carry the tray in?”
“No, I got it.”
She’d prepared a script for the initial interaction, and it didn’t include Arwel.
“Very well.” He motioned for her to enter.
With a smile on her face and a slight swaying of her hips, Carol sauntered into the room.
Oh boy, Lokan. Talk about sexy.
The man sitting on the couch was so much more than his picture had hinted at.
She loved everything, from his elegant clothes to the confident way he sat with one arm draped over the sofa’s back and his legs crossed at the knee.
The sleeves of his white dress shirt were folded up, revealing muscular forearms with a smattering of dark hair, and through the parted collar she could get a peek at his chest, which was likewise covered with lean muscles and sparse black hair.
He was tall but not huge, muscled but not bulky, cocky but not conceited. And that sly smirk that had been curling his lush lips when she entered had faltered for a split second.
She’d had an effect on him.
Recovering quickly, he dipped his head in greeting. “What a lovely surprise. I would’ve gotten that heavy tray from you, but I’ve been instructed not to move from this couch.”
“That’s okay. I’m stronger than I look.” She put the tray down on the coffee table and uncovered the plate. “Dig in before it gets cold.”
He looked down at what she served him and then back up at her. “We haven’t been formally introduced. I’m Lokan, son of Navuh.” He extended his hand. “Again, my apologies for not getting up.”
She cast a quick glance at Arwel, who nodded his approval.
Her palm was sweaty, and she discreetly wiped it on her leggings before coming around to sit next to him. “I’m Carol, daughter of Moira and an unknown sperm donor.”
Smiling, he took her hand in his, but as soon as the contact was made, a powerful current sizzled between them, and his smile turned into a perplexed frown.
“You’re an immortal.”
“Last I checked, yes, I am.”
21
Lokan
Carol.
The first immortal female Lokan had ever met, and she was exquisite.
A Marilyn Monroe style bombshell, Carol was petite, shorter than the actress by several inches, and with more delicate facial features. What made the comparison apt, though, were her blonde curls and pouty lips, not to mention the sexy, curvy body, and sultry attitude.
If he had any artistic talent to draw a picture of his ideal woman, she wouldn’t come close to Carol’s perfection.
“Did you make this for me?” he asked.
She nodded. “Yes, and it’s getting cold.”
“How can I eat?” He rubbed a hand over his heart. “You take my breath away, and I want to keep looking at you.”
Across the room at the dinette, Arwel snorted. “I should take notes.”
As a growl started deep in Lokan’s throat, Carol put a hand on his bicep. “Relax. Arwel meant no offense, and he is my cousin.”
Damn. Where had that growl come from?
He’d just met the woman, and he had no claim to her.
Lokan had never experienced jealousy before. Hell, other than his father, every male living on the island was used to sharing the selection of beauties working in the whorehouse. The only other option was seducing one of the housekeeping staff, which Lokan had done on occasion.
“Why are you serving my meal, Carol? Don’t you have humans to do that?”
“No, we don’t.” She looked down her cute nose at him. “As I’m sure you are aware, the clan promotes democracy and human rights, which means that we don’t have conscripted or thralled humans working for us.”
“What about Vivian and Ella? They are both human.”
She waved a hand. “It’s a temporary state. They are both mated to clan members and are about to transition. Now eat what I made for you. I’m not going to answer any more questions until you do. This is a difficult dish to make.”
He liked her spunk and the fact that she didn’t fear him. Not even a little, which was somewhat offensive because he should be feared.
Picking up the plastic fork and knife, he cut a piece off, but then paused with it an inch away from his mouth. “Are you going to be bringing all my meals from now on?”
She nodded.
“Then I must insist that you eat with me. I feel uncomfortable about dining alone and having you watch me.”
“Who do you eat with on the island? Your father and brothers?”
So that was why Carol was there.
Smart move on Kian’s part. A beautiful woman had a much better chance of getting him to talk. Especially an immortal one, which was sure to throw him off guard since it was his first time in the presence of one.
“Rarely. When I’m there, I eat with the soldiers. When I’m in Washington, I have lunch and dinner meetings in restaurants.”
She waved a hand at his plate. “Eat, or I’m going to bring all your meals in cold from now on.”
He had a feeling that she meant it. Which implied that it was important to her that he liked what she’d made for him. Not what he expected from a spy.
“I’m eating.” He put the piece he’d cut off in his mouth.
As the flavor exploded over his taste buds, Lokan’s eyes rolled back with pleasure. He’d eaten beef stroganoff prepared by famous chefs in fancy restaurants, but Carol’s was the best one yet, despite it being served on a paper plate.
The disposables were probably a safety measure, and not a reflection of her lack of finesse.
“It’s exquisite,” he said after he was done chewing. “The best I ever had, and I’ve had this dish many times before. You have a gift, Carol.”
The smile she flashed him could not have been brighter if he’d told her that she’d won first prize in a worldwide championship.
“Thank you. A while back, I entertained the thought of becoming a chef, but then I realized that working in a commercial kitchen is not the same as cooking at home for fun. I’d rather keep enjoying it as a hobby and choose something else for a job.”
Not
to piss her off, he took several more bites before asking his next question. “What is your job? Since I’m the only one here, and Arwel was feeding me up until now, I’m sure it’s not cooking for prisoners.”
“Very astute observation. My day job is running a café. I serve cappuccinos and sandwiches.”
“Do you enjoy it?”
She pointed at his plate, and he obligingly cut another piece.
“I do. I’m in the center of things, hearing all the latest gossip as soon as it comes out.” She shrugged. “What can I say. I’m a people person.”
Eager to ask her more questions, Lokan rushed to finish every last bit on his plate while still keeping his good table manners. When he was done, he wiped his mouth with the paper napkin she’d thoughtfully provided for him and took a long sip from the water bottle.
“How did you end up cooking for me? Is it penance for some transgression?”
“Not at all. I volunteered.”
“And why is that?”
She shrugged, lifting one exposed creamy shoulder that made his mouth water. “Someone had to do it, and I was curious. Besides, I’m an awesome cook.”
“That you are.” He glanced at Arwel before reaching for her hand, but the guy was reading on his phone and not looking at them.
He brought it to his lips for a quick kiss. “Thank you for the meal, which was made even more exquisite by your presence. You are an incredibly beautiful woman.”
“Thank you.” She flashed him a bright smile. “You are quite handsome yourself. Do you take after your father or your mother?”
He chuckled. “Just as you don’t know your father, I don’t know my mother. We have this in common. Except, I wouldn’t call my mother an egg donor. After all, she carried me in her womb for nine months and then nurtured me for as long as my father allowed it.”
“That’s sad. Are you close to your father?”
“No one is close to Navuh. He wouldn't give anyone that kind of power.”
22
Carol
Lokan was flirty, but Carol knew his interest wasn’t feigned. He could fool Ella, but not her.
The question was whether he knew that.
Despite being unfamiliar with immortal females, he seemed intelligent enough to figure out that they weren’t so different from their male counterparts and possessed the same enhanced senses. On the other hand, though, he’d been brainwashed to believe that females were inferior, so he might think that other than their immortality, they had no other enhanced abilities.
“I’ve seen your father’s picture. He looks intimidating.”
He arched a brow. “Did the same artist who drew mine draw his as well?”
So, he knew about that. Good. For a moment Carol was afraid she’d let something slip. She should’ve grilled Arwel about what Lokan already knew. In fact, she was going to do that as soon as they left here. The other thing she needed to discuss with the Guardian was the arrangements for the next meal she was going to deliver.
Not much seducing or luring could take place with him sitting a few feet away.
“It’s not like we have a bunch of defectors from your camp who can draw.” She turned to look at Amanda’s portrait that was hanging over the couch. “This is his work, too. You can see how talented he is.”
“Arwel told me she’s Dalhu’s mate. Why is it hanging in this prison cell, though?” He pinned her with a penetrating stare. “Is it to tempt others to cross over by showing them the possibilities?”
What a suspicious guy. But then, she couldn't fault him for that. Not only had he grown up in a vipers’ nest, but he was also in enemy territory that he knew nothing about.
She smiled coyly. “Are you tempted, Lokan?”
His black eyes flashed a red glimmer for a moment, making him look demonic.
Sexy demon.
It was a most unusual glow—one she hadn’t seen on any other immortal.
He reached for her hand again. “You are temptation personified, Carol. There is a lot I’m willing to do to gain your favor.”
As he kissed the back of her hand, his lips felt like a hot brand on her skin, sending shivers down her spine. The good kind.
“Even defect?”
He smirked. “That depends.”
“On what?”
“Tell me why this picture is here, and I’ll consider it.”
The guy was a decent negotiator. If she hadn’t been listening so carefully to his wording, she might have thought that he’d just promised to defect in exchange for the story behind Amanda’s picture, but all he’d said was that he would consider it.
Could she tell him, though?
If she omitted any details that could identify who Amanda was, it should be okay.
“Some would say it’s a very romantic story, while others would say it’s creepy.”
“You got my full attention.”
“It was a chance meeting in a store. Somehow, Dalhu figured out that she was an immortal female and decided to kidnap her. He took her to the mountains, broke into a cabin, and kept her imprisoned there. Long story short, he worked very hard to win her heart and against all odds succeeded.”
“So, what happened next? Did she bring him home to her family and they put him in a prison cell?”
“Not exactly. Without going into details of how they found where he was keeping her, a rescue team arrived to free her. Imagine their surprise and disgust when she attacked them to defend him.”
He grimaced. “I can definitely imagine that. Consorting with the enemy was probably viewed as worse than defecting.”
“You got it. So, they brought him here, not to this nice cell, but to one of the small ones. She tried very hard to forget about him but couldn't. When the Fates give you your true-love mate, you don’t question their choice because you are not going to get another.”
Lokan smirked. “Is this the romantic part? Because it sounds like a fairytale.”
Carol cast him a sad smile. “It’s tragic how little you know about immortal mates. This is not a fairytale. Very few get to find their one and only, and the Fates only grant this boon to the most deserving. Those who’ve made a huge sacrifice for others or who’ve suffered greatly.”
“Then I’m never getting my one and only for sure. What did Dalhu do to get so lucky?”
Lokan was mocking her and not making any effort to hide it.
“In Dalhu’s case, the sacrifice came later. His mate, however, had suffered greatly in the past, so the boon was hers. It took her a while to realize this, and when she did, she fought for her right to choose her mate and eventually won. But while the battle was going on, she had him moved to this nicer cell and joined him here.”
Carol waved her hand around. “These walls are imbued with great love. Because of his love for his mate, Dalhu pledged his loyalty to the clan, and to prove it he offered to draw portraits of the Brotherhood’s leadership. Once he was done with that, he used the art supplies to make countless portraits of his mate. For some reason, they left this one behind when he was let out and allowed to live with her as a free man.”
“No offense, Carol, but this is the most unbelievable story I’ve ever heard. Your clan has been hiding from us for thousands of years, and rightfully so. This is the only reason you have survived. I can’t imagine Kian allowing a security risk like this just because one of his people fell in love with the enemy.”
“I didn’t say it was easy. She had to wage one hell of a battle, and Dalhu had to prove himself in a trial by fire. But in the end, love won.”
23
Lokan
It hadn’t escaped Lokan’s notice that neither Carol nor Arwel had mentioned the female’s name.
He had his suspicions, though.
First of all, she had to be someone important in the clan to wage battle against the mighty Kian. Their leader’s hatred for the Brotherhood ran deep.
Secondly, her stunning beauty marked Dalhu’s mate as a close descendant of the goddess. Coul
d she be Annani’s daughter? Kian’s sister?
There was some familial resemblance between them, but then all clan members were descended from the same goddess, so that could be true for any of them.
Not in this case, though.
Lokan was willing to bet that the woman in the portrait was Kian’s sister, and the fact that she’d mated an ex-Brother was astounding in its implications.
Perhaps she possessed the power to compel other immortals?
Otherwise, he couldn’t conceive of a scenario in which her brother or her mother would allow that.
“Was it love, though, that won the battle? Or was it something else? Did this exceptionally beautiful lady use her special powers to influence your leaders into accepting her chosen mate into the clan?”
Across the room, Arwel snorted. “Her special power is the personality of a bulldozer who doesn’t take no for an answer.”
Carol pouted. “Do you have a thing for brunettes?”
Was she really peeved because he’d called another woman beautiful? Or was it her way of changing the subject?
“I’m a connoisseur of every kind of female beauty, but I have a preference for petite blondes with a face that angels would envy.”
As he’d expected, Carol rewarded him with one of her bright smiles. “How many of those petite blondes have you encountered?”
“Just one.” He winked.
Arwel snickered. “Smooth. I’m taking notes.”
“I have to admit that she’s gorgeous. And she’s tall, which I envy. But as far as I know, she really doesn't have any special talents. Not like yours, anyway, which are pretty scary. I’m just glad that you can’t compel immortals or invade my dreams.”
“How do you know that I can’t?”
“Because if you could, you would have been out of here already.”
Since he’d never tried to dream-share with an immortal, Lokan didn’t know whether he could or not. Compulsion, on the other hand, he’d tried many times. It only worked on humans and not on all of them. Gorchenco was immune, and so were many of the politicians he dealt with.