by Angel Payne
Jagger’s nostrils tugged in. He eyed me, blatantly conflicted. Syn’s presence didn’t help. Was my head ever fully “in the game” with him around? I was willing to try—but that might not be enough. I’d followed him down that path like a rat behind the Pied Piper. Okay, he’d radioed Jagger to send a reinforcement in my absence, and where that person had been was a mystery, but it was a thin excuse. Samsyn Cimarron had become my illicit chocolate. One bite and I’d instantly craved another, no matter how unhealthy the choice.
I drove my nails into my palms, begging the pain to drive back my shameful tears. I refused to compound insult with injury by bawling in public.
Jag released a resigned sigh. I tied back the tears, lifting eyes of hope.
“Creator’s balls,” he mumbled. “I am left with few options. We are short-handed here, especially with half the former Distinct members choosing to add ‘open bar’ with ‘town car home’ and make it a very special night.”
Samsyn rumbled like an ape that had stepped on a tack. “The Distinct were invited? Who the fuck made that decision?”
“Who the fuck do you think?”
“Evrest?” When Jag confirmed via silence, Syn slammed his head against the wall. “Noble, numb-headed fool. In love and thinks the whole world should be in love with him—including the twelve women he rejected.”
“There are only six here tonight,” Jag replied. “Thank the Creator. Currently, they are all soused and happy—and none of them is Chianna—so we shall bill it as a win.”
I nearly crossed myself in response. Neither of them would’ve blinked. Chianna Smythe, once the odds-on favorite among The Distinct to win Evrest’s hand, hadn’t taken her jilted status gracefully. After staging a plot against Camellia that nearly had a tragic ending, the woman had escaped custody and disappeared into thin air. A popular island argument pitted those who thought her still on the island, allegedly living in the rough rainforests in the west, against theories she’d escaped the kingdom completely. As long as she wasn’t here tonight, Jag was right: win for all.
“Grahm and Luca are watching over our drunk disco dollies,” Jag explained. “And I had to dispatch Blayze early, to accompany the high couple back to the Rigale as soon as ‘Sinful Cims’ went viral. Queen Xaria did not take it all very well.”
I tensed all over again when he canted a brow in Syn’s direction. I wasn’t sure what to think about the reaction. Samsyn, still turned toward the wall, barely tossed a glance over his shoulder. “Mother will be fine, Jag. You know that as well as I. She will handle it…in her way.”
Jag ducked a tight nod. “Will she need additional security for that, then?”
“Not this time.”
“Very well.”
I frowned. Darted a look between the two of them. They spoke words I understood…but didn’t. Secrets were like that. Secrets with the power to dip Syn’s shoulders as if anvils had been dropped on them. To darken Jag’s gaze to the shade of burnt copper. But at this moment, I had no right to push them for spillage. I had no right to push for anything. Not that they dwelled on shit. The next moment, Jag had his chin jerked toward me then out the door.
“Her Ladyship, Camellia, is waiting in the town car. We felt it wise to send Evrest ahead. Creator only knows what havoc the two of them would cause if left in a space with carpeted floors and leather seats.”
I tried not to laugh. “You know they’ll find a way to hook up at the Rigale, don’t you?”
“Badger girl, I do not give a matchstick of a damn if they use a chandelier as a fuck swing and peanut butter as lube—as long as they do it in private.”
“Roger that.” The radio formality was purposeful. I really wanted him to know my head was all-in again. As I turned to leave, I also forced myself not to glance back at Samsyn. That part gutted a little deeper.
All right…a lot deeper.
Every step seemed to pound it in. I couldn’t help matching the feeling to my trip to Temptina Falls—had it been only a week ago?—after he’d arrived early at the Center and surprised me on the training mat. Flushed skin. Hammering heart. Aches in places too intimate to ignore. And stabbed through it all, like furious battlefield stitches, the knowledge that I still craved Samsyn Cimarron like a junkie on crack—and now had to face the disgusting, shivering torture of detox.
Yay, me.
Chapter Thirteen
‡
“ALL RIGHT. I guess I do want to know, after all.” Camellia leveled a resigned gaze through the combination of moonlight and street lamp glow gliding across the town car’s back seat. “How bad is the damage? Really?”
I patted her hand. Lifted a rueful smile. “Scale of one to ten? About a nine right now.”
“Shit.”
“I said right now.” I curled my fingers around hers. “Good news. The movie isn’t opening for over six months. That’s a lot of time to scale this back to a little blip.”
“Without the whole kingdom writing me off as a slutty floozie first?”
“You and Evrest are engaged—and in love,” I chided. “And clearly, unable to keep your hands off each other.” A blissful sigh escaped as I pulled off the wig and shook out my hair. “To some, that photo may even be romantic.”
“If they’re not a Pura.” She dropped her head into her hand. “I can only imagine what new nicknames those lunatics are whipping up for me now.”
“You mean all three of them?”
She tossed a glare. “That little club is growing, Brooke. You know it as well as I do.”
“And will die off as soon as they run out of the good cookies.” That deserved at least a quick laugh. After we indulged together, I persisted, “I’m serious. You’re Buffy, remember? You’re making the world a better place, Cam. You’re making Evrest’s world a better place. In the end, happiness gets to climb higher on the rainbow. Arcadians really like their rainbows.”
A watery smile lit up her soft features. She hauled me into a crushing hug. “You’re so awesome.”
I grinned. “Back at you, Buffy baby.”
She sobered a little. “I hope you weren’t in deep shit with Jag.”
“I was.” I shrugged. “Probably still am. But it was due to my bad call, not yours.”
Her eyes went wide. “Excuse the hell out of me? Bad call? You mean because Syn stepped in and did something about Ardent’s letch-from-hell moves on you?”
“Crap.” My turn to drop my head into a hand. “I’d hoped I was the only one who noticed.”
Camellia rubbed my shoulder in comfort. “Outside observers didn’t know the difference. I think Ardent was just feeling a little full of himself.”
I lifted a brow. “If ‘himself’ is ‘creepy dude hitting on the old friend’s daughter’, he pounded the nail on the head.”
“The excitement of the night probably got to him, too. There was a lot going on. The band started playing, the press started hovering…” She rolled her eyes. “And hovering.”
I released a breath. “Well, I’m grateful Samsyn was there.”
“He’s clued into you.” She punctuated by tilting a knowing grin. “Nope. Edit time. He’s just into you, period.”
Her edit time…my choice time. I could return her giggle with one of my own, perpetuating the concept that something—anything—was “there” between Syn and me, or I could honor my promise to Jagger and recommit myself to reality.
What I cannot give anyone, Brooke. What I do not even have to give.
Reality it was.
What it had to be.
I turned my gaze out the window. Beheld the passing landscape: the stark silhouettes of trees against the moon. Black and silver…so much like Syn’s eyes. His darkness tangled with his light. But like the trees in my view, the darkness would always be closer, denser—even blocking out the light in places. It was all he could see, not believing the light had so much more power. That if he just believed in that force…
“So?” Cam’s prompt yanked me out of the moody r
everie. She grabbed one of my hands again. “Did the big guy drag you off to a dark corner and have his way with you? And if he did, I want details, girl. Every last one.”
I chuffed while tugging free. “Camellia…”
“Oh my God! He did, didn’t he? I knew it! Ohhhh Brooke. You two are so cute together!”
“Camellia.”
The car stopped. Outside, the trees and moon were replaced by the ornate archway of the Residence Rigale.
“Duty calls.” I’d never been happier to spout the words—or to put on my authoritarian face. “Stay here, okay? I need to confirm Evrest’s team performed the proper perimeter checks first. After that, I’ll come get you.”
As I’d hoped, mentioning Evrest made the woman forget all about Syn and me. Bullet dodged—for the time being. I’d be better at fielding her questions even tomorrow morning, when every step didn’t brush my leg against the tear in my skirt, and every breath didn’t fill my senses with his scent, earthy and luxurious, mixed on his hot skin…
Focus. Perimeter check.
The lead guard from Evrest’s detail, a burly soldier named Bo, answered my radio hail at once. He was accompanied by one of the guys from our local team, Blayze’s younger brother, Flayre, who assured me he’d overseen the perimeter check himself. “All is secure,” he stated, though ended as if tempted to tell me more.
“What?” I urged. I didn’t know Flayre as well as Blayze but doubted anyone would’ve missed the glitch in his composure. “We don’t have time for games. What’s troubling you?”
“Troubling?” This seemed to be news to Bo, but the man had likely been busy attending Evrest. “Is there something you didn’t report, boy?”
Flayre paled. I felt a little sorry for him. “Apologies,” he muttered. “And no, not troubling, just…an observation.”
“Of what?” I queried.
“The princess Jayd.”
“Jayd?” The interjection came from behind me. Concern clamped Camellia’s face as well as her voice. “What about her?”
My teeth clenched. “I told you to stay in the—”
“What’s wrong with her?” Cam demanded.
Shockingly, Flayre fought back a smirk. “I do not wager anything’s wrong, from what we could hear from her quarters.”
I traded a horrified glance with Bo. Then Cam. “Shit!” she spat, before leading the way into the mansion at a wild run. I was no more than two steps behind, with Bo and Flayre behind me.
Our steps sounded like rifle shots on the marble floors, echoing through the mansion as we raced to the level containing Cam and Jayd’s suites. I hoped beyond hope that the noise pierced through to the girl, and whoever she was doing it with. Damn. All we needed now was another Cimarron caught with their underwear in the wrong position.
We all arrived at the door to Jayd’s suite, breathing hard. Didn’t stop me from glaring at Camellia as she took a second to smooth her skirts. “Jayd?” She politely rapped on the door.
“Are you fucking—” Bo hissed to a stop when I jabbed a reprimanding finger. “Begging pardon, Your Ladyship, but are you insane?”
He looked mollified when I followed Cam’s knock with a more severe pound. “Jayd! We’re coming in!”
“Ready or not.” Flayre’s quiet sing-song was elbowed into submission by Bo.
A tense moment. Another. My ears felt physically stretched, straining to discern some sound from the suite beyond. Nothing. No rustling clothes. No movement. No frantic whispers.
I jabbed a stare at Flayre. “This was the chamber you heard noise in?”
Flayre, not looking so smart-assy anymore, shifted on his feet. “I—I am fairly certain…”
His gaze narrowed as the door creaked open.
Jayd appeared in the aperture. Fully calm. Fully dressed.
Fully shitfaced.
“Cammmmm.” She shoved unruly curls from her face. “Heeeyyy! Come on in. The party’s right heeeere.” She frowned, seeming confused, before whirling and leaving the open door behind. “But there’s nuh more tunes. I had the tunes goin’, dammit”
Flayre gave us a confirming nod. “The tunes” must have been the racket his team heard.
“Holy shit.” Camellia hoisted a nearly empty vodka bottle in one hand, three champagne splits in the other. On the coffee table, a jug of orange juice was half-depleted.
“At least her panties are in the right place,” I murmured. Cam gave a discreet snort—just before Jayd’s wail pierced the air.
“Muuusssiiic,” she cried. “Jayd needs her tunes! No fancy ball for Jayd. No fun for Jayd. So she made a party here, with the tunes. Yaaayyyy Jayd. Wooooo!”
As the girl twirled across the room, Cam nodded quietly to me. “You get the water. I’ll grab the aspirin.”
“Affirmative.”
Good thing she still watched as I said it. She never would have understood me otherwise, thanks to the explosion on the air, courtesy of Jayd restarting her “tunes.” Cam’s jaw dropped, mirroring my look. I’d have pegged Syn’s little sister as a fan of dance favorites and happy pop, not the violent bursts that shook the windows and—
filled the air with—
smoke?
“Shit.” It was equally wasted breath, shouted more from instinct than anything. My breath was fire down my throat, worsened by acrid black snakes through the room. I caught a glimpse of the terror on Cam’s face, before Bo tackled her to the floor. One blink, recognizing the action. A second, in relief. Safe. Okay. Camellia was safe.
And then the adrenalin kicked in.
And the horror.
And the thoughts, whizzing one after another, just like the bullets now crisscrossing before my sights.
Not music.
Explosions. Invasion. Ninjas.
Huh?
Ski masks. Black suits. Guns. Very nice guns. Searching. Determined.
I pounded on my comm piece while diving behind a sofa. “Breach! Level nine! This is Badger. We have a code black breach on level nine!”
Fast, frantic peak out. An equally urgent scan of their careful, crouched steps, their thorough, sweeping stares. I sucked in breath, snapping the pieces together. They’re after something.
No.
Oh, God.
Not something.
Someone.
The Cimarrons.
“Shit!” I popped my head back up, taking in as much intel as I could. How many were there? And why wouldn’t they all hold still?
A gasp of relief spilled when I spotted Flayre—until realizing he was leading them. Pointing the damn way for them.
Holy crap.
And that wasn’t the end of the shit-fest.
Bo’s voice blared through the comm line. For a second, despite everything, it was reassuring. I’d watched him get Cam out safely. But why did he still bellow through the line now? And what the hell was he saying? Invade? Hate? Raid?
Jayd.
“Shit!” I gasped again. Jayd!
I screamed her name, not expecting an answer—but receiving a strange one. I felt her voice more than heard it, my body resonating with awareness, like a radio dial hitting a specific frequency. No matter what I was ever doing or saying, every cell in my being always stopped when a Cimarron’s voice vibrated the air.
I dropped low but kept my head high. She had to be nearby. What direction had she gone in? She’d been twirling across the room, complaining about the music having stopped—
I looked toward the alcove containing all the high-tech entertainment controls for the room. Shockingly, it was all as pristine as the moment we’d entered. But also the same: the totally tanked girl standing in front of the equipment, weaving to a song only she could hear, hands raised over her head, black curls bobbing—
In short, making herself a neon target for the ninjas.
Dread pounded my veins, gauzed my thoughts. My stomach rose to my throat. Not that screaming at Jayd was even an option. If those bastards knew how close they were getting to her, with every pa
ssing second—
God help us.
Just like that, time slowed once more. Every passing instant was blown bigger than life, magnified and treacherous, like an approaching tarantula. Every footfall was sludging thunder. The rifle shots were sci-fi screams of metal and fire. Moving felt like dragging an elephant through an oil slick. Somehow, I did. Crawled, shaking and frantic, to the edge of the couch I hid behind, until gaining a clear view of the archway to the entertainment alcove…
The ninjas were moving fast. They’d swept the bedroom first. Once they reemerged into the living room, they’d see Jayd—
And do what?
Were they here to capture her? Kill her?
Another three seconds, and we’d all know.
Unless I moved my elephant-in-oil ass first.
Chapter Fourteen
‡
“BROOKIE! HIIII. HEY, what’re you—what the—ahhhh!”
Nothing like a few rounds from several guns, along with the sight of approaching enemy soldiers, to sober a girl up.
At least that’s what I hoped. And what it seemed. Jayd, frantically panting on the floor beneath me, stared with eyes like the Northern Lights at full burst. “Wh-what is happening? Brooke?”
“Ssshhh!” Most ridiculous command ever. My pounding heart and wild nerves gave me no option. I ducked against the couch to keep from whimpering beyond that, listening as the ninjas stalked closer.
Until I saw the bright red stain on Jayd’s neck. “Oh, no.” Both words stabbed through my head. “You’re bleeding.” Those too.
Jayd’s lips trembled. “Not me!”
No time to process who was right. With disgusting timing, time sped up again.
Jayd’s strident shriek.
The pain in my head, now delivered by shrieking Banshees, set free in my nervous system.