Saven Disclosure (The Saven Series Book 2)

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Saven Disclosure (The Saven Series Book 2) Page 1

by Siobhan Davis




  The Saven Series

  SAVEN DISCLOSURE

  The Second Saven Novel

  Siobhan Davis

  www.siobhandavis.com

  For Dalitza Morales.

  Thank you for letting me borrow your beautiful name for one of my characters.

  YOUR FREE COPY OF THE LOGAN COLLECTION IS WAITING…

  Join my Saven mailing list today to receive this short story collection for free. Exclusively available to subscribers. Click here.

  Table of Contents

  Prologue

  CHAPTER 1

  CHAPTER 2

  CHAPTER 3

  CHAPTER 4

  CHAPTER 5

  CHAPTER 6

  CHAPTER 7

  CHAPTER 8

  CHAPTER 9

  CHAPTER 10

  CHAPTER 11

  CHAPTER 12

  CHAPTER 13

  CHAPTER 14

  CHAPTER 15

  CHAPTER 16

  CHAPTER 17

  CHAPTER 18

  CHAPTER 19

  CHAPTER 20

  CHAPTER 21

  CHAPTER 22

  CHAPTER 23

  CHAPTER 24

  A Special Note from the Author

  ABOUT THE AUTHOR

  ACKNOWLEDGEMENTS

  BOOKS BY SIOBHAN DAVIS

  Copyright

  Prologue

  King Adjani stormed into the room, the door slamming shut behind him. Stalking around the desk, he flung himself into the chair, sighing agitatedly.

  “Tough meeting?” Advisor Mellor asked, approaching cautiously from the far side of the room. He’d been anxiously awaiting the king’s return since he departed for Earth a few hours previous.

  “Quite.” The king flexed his jaw, tension palpable in the air.

  “Were we right? Is Griselda involved?” He pulled out a chair and sat down.

  “I think our initial assumption is correct, but the human girl wasn’t able to corroborate anything.”

  “I don’t understand.” Advisor Mellor straightened up, his muscles rigid with apprehension. “How was she able to lie to you?” The king was one of Saven’s most gifted Truethen, and Advisor Mellor couldn’t recall an occasion where any being—Saven, human, or otherwise—was able to deliberately omit the truth in front of him.

  “She wasn’t.” The king tugged at the tie wrapped around his collar, ripping it free and tossing it clear across the room.

  Conversing with the king when he was in a foul mood over something was the slowest form of torture, yet Advisor Mellor waited patiently for him to explain. He knew better than to push the matter.

  “She told me the truth,” he finally admitted, a few minutes later. “Unfortunately for us, her knowledge of the real situation is nonexistent. She knows nothing. She could impart nothing. We’ll have to figure this out by ourselves.” The king swiveled in his seat and stared out the large tinted glass window at the vastness of the kingdom spread out before him. The Saven Central City truly was a sight to behold. Spiraling peaks of high-rise buildings glistened and glittered amidst rays of colorful lights sprouting from the dazzling, pulsing city below. Low flying craft, like magical dancing stars, wove a crazy path through the darkening nighttime sky.

  He looked beyond the city skyline to the placid lake resting on the outer edges. Lake Carnavra separated the newer city district from the historical old district. A stinging pain bit him sharply in the chest as old wounds threatened to rise to the surface.

  “Perhaps we are wrong. Maybe we are reading too much into this,” the advisor suggested.

  The king turned to face him, shoving his melancholy away. “The facts were laid out in front of us in black and white. This is exactly how it looks. All that’s left is for us to determine how we are going to deal with this threat. And make no mistake, it is a threat. Griselda has taken her time, planned it methodically. I’m sure she’s even expecting our discovery. So, it begs the question, how can we gain the upper hand before she puts her full plan into motion?” The king leaned forward on his elbows.

  Advisor Mellor loudly cleared his throat. “I think there’s an obvious solution, but your son won’t be happy.”

  “My son will perform his duty. He is doing his duty. I can smooth things over with him afterwards.”

  The advisor rose. “So, it’s decided. How will you proceed?”

  “I’ll instruct First Senior Officer Vero. He’s the only one I trust to fulfill this mission. He’ll ensure it is dealt with swiftly and with discretion. My son will expect that as a minimum. I’ll handle the communication. You are dismissed.”

  Exhaling gratefully, Advisor Mellor bowed at the waist and made a hasty exit. The king stood up and strode to the large viewing window. As his eyes raked territorially over his domain, he issued a silent invitation to Officer Vero requesting his immediate presence.

  The king was pouring his second drink when the dark-haired officer arrived. “Sit down,” he commanded without looking up.

  When he was seated again, he eyeballed the officer from across the desk. “I have a top secret mission I need you to handle. It requires the utmost efficiency and secrecy. Can you assure me of your complete confidentiality? Your absolute dedication?” He swirled the purple liquid in the glass before bringing it to his lips.

  “I can, My King.” The officer held the king’s gaze confidently, his striking green eyes resonating with sincerity.

  The truth of his statement echoed behind his words, and Truethen or not, the king recognized his honesty for what it was. “Excellent. Pick your best team and get ready to move out. Your target is Sadie Owens. Do not report back until she has been eliminated.”

  CHAPTER 1

  Eleven days earlier

  I soar through the air, limbs flailing inelegantly. I squeeze my eyes shut in anticipation of the pain. Wallop! My butt slaps off the cold, solid hardwood floor as I stifle the moan traveling up my throat. Never let the enemy know you are hurting. Never let down your defense. Don’t show any signs of weakness. Haydn’s constant mantra flits through my mind as I attempt to ignore the searing pain ripping across my back, demanding my attention.

  Opening my eyes, I prop myself up on my elbows as he storms across the room, a look of thunderous fury on his face. Haydn hovers over me, glowering. “What the hell was that?” Despite his obvious annoyance, he extends his arm to help me up.

  Always the gentleman. Or gentlealien, if I’m to be politically correct. I smirk at my own feeble attempt at humor.

  His scowl deepens. “You know that maneuver. We must have practiced it at least fifty times.”

  “I know,” I admit, tenderly rubbing the sore spot on my lower back as I stand. “We did. I wasn’t concentrating properly. Sorry.”

  “Why are you so distracted today, Sadie?” He folds his arms sternly around his chest.

  I arch my back, attempting to loosen my stiff muscles. “I didn’t sleep again last night.” Between the resurgence of my horrendous childhood nightmares, strange nighttime hallucinations, and a mind hopelessly fixated on my absent alien boyfriend, I’m lucky if I manage to grab more than a couple of hours of sleep most nights. A yawn escapes my mouth right that second, as if I’d scheduled it perfectly.

  Haydn’s expression softens. “We need to find a solution. You can’t continue to train when you can barely move one foot in front of the other. It’s like training the walking dead.” Now it’s my turn to scowl. He smirks and I feel an uncharacteristic urge to inflict pain. “You’ll end up getting injured, and I’ll end up out of a job.” Bending over, he effortlessly rolls up the mats and tucks them under his arm. “Come on,” he says, angling his other arm i
n my direction. “Let’s head down to the apartment. There’s time for a nap before we have to leave.”

  Looping my arm through his, I let him steer me out of the rooftop gymnasium and into the elevator.

  Back in the apartment—the king’s apartment, which I still call home—Haydn runs me a bath while I lie on my bed, attempting to catnap. But it’s no good. I’m overtired and I can’t switch off, not even for twenty minutes.

  “You’re all set,” he remarks a few minutes later, walking out of my adjoining bathroom. “I put some sweet almond and rosemary oil into the water; it should help ease the soreness. I left some healing gel by the sink. Apply some of that when you get out. I’ll prepare breakfast while you relax. Take your time; you don’t need to be in work for a while yet.”

  “I didn’t realize your job description extended to personal physician and chef extraordinaire?” I tease, both mildly irritated and pleased at his matronly care.

  “Didn’t Logan tell you? I’m an all-rounder. Whatever you need, I’m at your service.” Haydn mock bows and I laugh, hoping to deflect the burgeoning blush creeping over my cheeks at his inadvertent flirtatious statement.

  I dip a toe in the water and groan contentedly. The pleasurable warmth envelops me in a soothing cocoon as I ease myself into the tub. Closing my eyes, I inhale the sweet, herby scent and try to empty my mind. As usual, thoughts of Logan invade all my senses erasing everything else. Six soul-crushing weeks. That’s how long it’s been since I last kissed my alien boyfriend. Forty-two days, nine hours, and thirty-two seconds since Logan held me in his arms and told me he loved me.

  It’s been far too long.

  The more time we are apart, the more my doubts grow. Does he actually love me? Or is the gut-wrenching physical ache we feel for one another the consequence of some weird alien mojo? The effect of our Eterno connection? Considering his position as crown prince of Saven—and heir-apparent—is this what my future holds? A long-distance relationship peppered with frequent separations as he attends to his formal duties while I languish in a pit of desolate heartache, every part of my being mourning his constant loss?

  Although I don’t spend my entire day pining over his absence, and I’ve more than my fair share to keep me occupied, my thoughts always turn to Logan the minute I’ve any downtime, any free headspace.

  He has stuck religiously to his commitment to contact me every night. Sometimes we get to talk for hours, but more often than not, he can only manage to snatch a few minutes. His official duties are eating up all of his time. While I adore our nighttime chats, it’s no substitute for the real deal, and I crave his arms like I crave cappuccino.

  Pretty much all the time.

  He has managed to squeeze a few sneaky teleport visits into his schedule, but it’s been fleeting. Barely time to hug before he needs to return lest his father realize what he has done. Haydn was the one to explain that all teleport travel is rigorously monitored and subject to prior approval. In extreme cases—like emergency situations—Saven can teleport without permission, but they must account for their actions afterward. Logan, Haydn, and Neve have special dispensation given their Royal status, but they still need to abide by the rules.

  Besides, it’s warranted. Teleporting can take a toll on their human bodies, so they need to keep it within recommended limits. Only for that, I would have demanded Logan visit me every night instead of being resigned to brief phone communications.

  I often wonder how I survived pre-Logan; in those bleak, dark, depressing days when I never had anyone to call my own and my heart was only a life-sustaining organ in my chest. It’s good to remind myself of those forsaken times. It helps to put my current situation into perspective. While I hate our forced separation, I still wouldn’t swap this life for my previous one.

  I slide down an inch and water sloshes over the edge of the tub onto the floor. My nostrils twitch as the smell of cinnamon and apple wafts under the door, tempting me from my watery hidey-hole. Haydn has been taking a leaf out of Logan’s book lately, and I can scarcely keep him out of the kitchen. Bored stiff during the day while I’m at work, he scours the portal searching for new recipes to try out on his unsuspecting victims. Namely, me and Neve and Alex—her preferred earthen— whenever they decide to grace us with their presence.

  “Muffins are ready!” Haydn calls from behind the door, startling me.

  I lose my footing and slip farther under the water, swallowing a few fragrant mouthfuls. “Be right out!” I blurt out when my head resurfaces.

  After dressing, I pad into the kitchen and hoist myself up onto a stool at the counter. Haydn slides two muffins and a homemade smoothie to me. “You trying to fatten me up?” I inquire.

  “You need to eat more when you’re training.”

  “I’m sure I read somewhere that you should eat more protein when in training. I doubt you’re supposed to be indulging in calorie-laden treats.”

  “Watch your mouth!” Haydn swats me with a dishtowel. “Those muffins are made with bran, yogurt, honey, and fruit. All natural. And totally healthy. Now shut up and eat.”

  “Ooh, get you! All right!” I hold my hands up in defeat. “But I doubt I’ll manage two.”

  “You can give one to Jarod in work,” he suggests.

  I snort. “As if he’d eat anything you prepared! I’d have to lie and tell him I baked it myself.”

  Jarod isn’t over his aversion to aliens. And that’s putting it mildly. He absolutely refuses to go anywhere with me outside of work if any of my Saven friends are involved, and he hasn’t ever stepped foot in this apartment. It’s a constant source of tension between us. The cause of more than a few arguments. I understand he’s pissed over the whole memory-erase situation, and the fact that enemy alien ships still hover in our skies doesn’t do much to ease any human’s apprehension, but I’ve tried explaining time and time again that we have nothing to fear from Logan and company, but he won’t hear a word of it.

  While I’m grateful Jarod managed to make it out of Thalassic City safely, and I’m thrilled to be working in the same building as him, sometimes I could happily bash his head against the wall.

  Haydn wordlessly packages the muffin and places it in my book bag. I slip off the stool. “I’d like to walk today.” Ordinarily Haydn drives me. Occasionally he teleports me. But today I really want to walk.

  “Do you think that’s wise?”

  “I desperately need the fresh air. Hopefully it will help me stay awake. The VP has a full schedule today, and I need to be on top of my game.”

  Hayden arches a brow. “What about the vultures?”

  “They can kiss my ass.” I smirk and try to inject some much-needed confidence into that statement.

  Twenty minutes later and we’re ready to get this show on the road.

  I draw a brave gulp of air as I thrust through the glass entrance doors of the apartment block out onto the sidewalk. The large crowd sways forward, baying for my blood. Haydn places his arm protectively around my back, positioning himself between the ever-expanding posse and me.

  My eyes surreptitiously scan the mob. The usual group of reporters throws a barrage of questions at me as I walk by, desperate to learn my side of the story. Next to them are your run-of-the-mill alien haters. I think they despise me more than they despise Logan, because I have willingly chosen to date the enemy and I’ve made no apology.

  Unfortunately, the government’s Thalassic City TV show had broadcast details of our romance, so by the time we arrived back on solid ground, my relationship status was common knowledge.

  Though I’m heckled most everywhere I go these days, I refuse to demonstrate an ounce of shame or remorse. Why should I feel bad about falling in love? And so what if the boy isn’t human? What happened to diversity? And freedom of choice?

  The skin on the back of my neck prickles with fear as we pass the final group. It’s this last crew that turns the blood in my veins to ice. This bunch is the most terrifying of all. Logan’s lurkers, that
’s what I’ve come to call them. A bunch of hysterical, overly zealous groupies-slash-stalkers who would sooner kill me than see me date their precious crown prince.

  And I’m not solely talking about swooning teenage girls. Oh no. I swear half the female population has gone gaga. Women of all ages glower at me as I pass. Someone throws an egg, which I narrowly avoid. Now I’m really starting to get annoyed. Haydn curses under his breath as he propels me forward at a quicker pace. I shelter my ears from the routine insults.

  The world has indeed gone to hell in a hand basket overnight. Like flicking a switch, the reaction to the Saven has gone from suspicious, angry protests to rousing applause wherever the roadshow hits. Up and down the Sovereign Northern States of America, the tide is turning. Fear has given way to adulation. Now, instead of being our greatest worry, the Saven have become our greatest ally, our most precious savior.

  The president parades King Adjani, Logan, and his deplorable brother, Dante, like his personal pride and joy. Neighboring countries are beating down our door, clamoring for an introduction, hopeful that the Saven will save us from the enemy alien threat crowding our airspace.

  My head lifts and I survey the underbelly of the vast fleet hovering under the clouds, darkening more than just the sunlight. A shiver crawls over my spine. Logan and his father are in the midst of heightened negotiations with the Amaretti, one of the Saven race’s oldest enemies. They haven’t as much as shown their faces—let alone put a foot on Earth—but the menacing threat lingers constantly in the background.

  Always watching. Waiting. Biding their time.

  One look at the sky, at the ghastly Amaretti presence, and my whole body shudders with potent fear.

  Every single time.

  I lower my head and look away, shivering profusely under my clothes. I can appreciate the president’s genius now, and it was a real smart move on his part. The minute the Amaretti appeared on the scene, the protestors dispersed. Nothing like a strong alien threat to send the crowd running back into the less-than-nurturing arms of the administration. President Bane played it to his advantage, wasting no time in moving the roadshow out, eager to publicly demonstrate that the Saven are our friends. Our only hope of negating the real enemy threat.

 

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