by Lexi C. Foss
Lizzie scoffed at him, catching on and lightening the mood. “You’re one to talk, lover boy. This one practically follows Amelia all over the island.” Her gaze widened at the slip. “Uh, that’d be Manhattan, I mean, to nonlocals.”
A nice cover, one that had Tom’s lips twitching. “Have you seen Amelia’s ass?” he asked. “Can’t blame me for following it.”
“I heard that,” she called from the kitchen.
“Good,” he returned, genuine amusement radiating from him until he remembered Aidan was in the room. “Uh, that is, I mean…”
“As I said a bit ago, love evolves in all different forms,” Aidan said slowly, his green eyes narrowed slightly.
Tom cleared his throat. “Right. Yeah. I very much love your, uh, Amelia.” He couldn’t exactly say “daughter” with Stas’s parents in the room. Poor guy.
“I know you do,” Aidan replied dryly. “Or you wouldn’t be here.”
“I thought Amelia was Issac’s sister?” Stas’s mom asked.
Ezekiel and the others returned before anyone could answer, each of them carrying a few pieces of wood.
“That was fast,” Stas’s dad said, his eyes wide.
“There were a few of us helping out” was Balthazar’s easy reply, his lips curled in one of his famous smiles. “Amazing what we can accomplish when working as a team. Right, Wakefield?”
“Depends on your definition,” Issac replied, his blue eyes swirling with energy as he manipulated whatever image Balthazar had sent with his words.
The mind reader flinched. “Scrooge.”
Issac ignored him and returned to Stas’s side on the sofa. “Susan, Henry, this is Jayson’s friend Ezekiel.”
“They work together,” Lizzie added, her brown eyes narrowed at the assassin.
“Indeed we do. How lovely of you to remember, Red,” Ezekiel replied with a cheeky grin. “I’m actually more of an associate in a similar profession.” He held out his hand for her parents to shake. “Nice to meet you both.”
“What is it you and Jayson do?” her father asked in lieu of a formal reply.
Stas bit her tongue as Ezekiel sat beside her, his leg brushing hers. “We’re both contractors in the defense industry.” Such a smooth phrase that technically wasn’t a lie. “It’s quite boring, really. Long hours, a lot of travel, negotiations, and some unfortunate dealings. Right, Jayson?”
At least he managed to get the name right. Ezekiel usually referred to Jayson as Jedrick—his original name.
“Right,” Jayson agreed as he joined Lizzie in her chair.
Balthazar tossed a log onto the fire, causing Ezekiel to flinch. “That’s all wrong, mate. You’re supposed to decorate it first, smother it in alcohol and dust it in flour, then burn it.”
Stas’s parents both raised their brows, while Aidan chuckled. “I do miss that tradition. Far more fun.”
“Exactly.” Ezekiel gestured with his hand, amusement giving him a young appearance. “Twelve days of fire and smolder. A proper Yule log.”
“I’ve never heard of that tradition,” Stas’s mom said, frowning. “Where is it from?”
“Babylon,” Lizzie muttered.
Ezekiel smiled broadly. “Actually, it’s an old European tradition. More pagan, really. But a hell of a lot of fun.”
Stas’s parents shared a look.
Issac cleared his throat. “Aidan, didn’t you say something about there being a football match on the tele?”
“American football,” Aidan corrected. “Yes.”
Stas’s father perked up, some team name falling from his mouth.
“That would be the one, yes,” Aidan confirmed. “I believe the game starts in about fifteen minutes. I was going to watch it downstairs if anyone is interested in joining me.”
“I’m in,” Tom replied.
“Of course you are,” Amelia replied. “Better than that dreadful sport with the bat. Has anyone else tried to watch a baseball game? It goes on and on and on for hours.”
“The Yankees is a religion, sweetheart. It’s meant to be worshipped and adored.”
She snorted. “It’s the most boring service I’ve ever attended.”
He clutched his heart as if she’d struck him. “You’re insulting my first love.”
“You’ll live.” She kissed him on the cheek and danced out of his reach before he could grab her. “I’m going to help Balthazar and Luc make dinner instead.”
“Oh, me, too,” Lizzie said, hopping off Jayson’s lap.
“That sounds more fun than a football game,” Stas’s mom said, standing to go with Lizzie and Amelia. “You have fun with whatever team it is you just said, dear.”
She patted her husband’s knee and joined Balthazar behind the couch. He offered his arm, which she happily accepted, and escorted her through the open dining area to the kitchen while Stas’s father watched through narrowed eyes.
“What was that bit you said about love, again, Aidan?” he asked dryly.
He laughed in reply. “Come, we’ll discuss it over the game. I believe the fridge downstairs is already stocked with beer as well.”
“It is,” Issac confirmed. “You all go on ahead. I want to catch up with Jayson and Ezekiel.”
Which, of course, was all part of the plan—distract Stas’s parents while the assassin explained his purpose here. And the glimmer in his gaze said he knew that was exactly what they were doing, too.
Tristan remained with them, taking over Aidan’s seat, leaving just the five of them in the room together.
Jayson broke the silence, his patience the lowest in the room. “All right, Ezekiel. What the fuck do you want?”
11
Stas
Ezekiel’s chuckle chilled the room. “You all truly think the worst of me, which is fascinating considering how much I’ve actually helped you over the years.”
“Helped?” Jayson repeated. “Need I remind you what happened the last time we saw each other? After your owner—Osiris—took me and my brothers hostage?”
“I recall giving you Elizabeth’s location for a rescue and then leaving a bit of evidence behind for your people to track you afterward.” He cocked his head to the side. “If that’s not helping, what would you call it?”
“A game,” Jayson growled. “One I don’t understand.”
Ezekiel’s lips curled. “Because you’re not really playing yet, old friend. You all still have so much to learn, to discover. Especially you, darling.” His eerie eyes pinned Stas in her seat. “But I have a choice for you all to make before I divulge anything else.”
“A choice,” Stas repeated, her throat dry from the intensity of staring directly into his eyes. So much pain and anger lurked in his irises. And lethality. He was the deadliest one in the room and did nothing to hide it.
He sighed. “Yes, it’s a term that means—”
“I know what it means,” she said, not liking his chastising tone. “What’s the choice?”
“Direct.” His gaze roamed over her with interest. “You truly have turned into an amazing young woman, Astasiya. Your father will be quite pleased.”
Issac pulled her back, his growl not at all friendly. “Get to the point, Ezekiel.”
“Relax, Wakefield. As beautiful as she is, she reminds me too much of her mother to be interested.”
Stas’s lips parted. “You knew my mother?”
“You already know the answer to that,” he replied, a knowing glint in his gaze. “Now, since none of you seem interested in spending the holidays with me—which is quite rude, really, considering our backgrounds, but alas, here we are—your choice is simple. Would you like me to give you details that will assist with Elizabeth’s pregnancy or more information on Astasiya’s parents?”
Stas’s lips parted as Jayson growled.
Ezekiel relaxed beside her, lifting his ankle to rest on his opposite knee. “A good teacher encourages his students to learn for themselves. A helpful one at least provides a few clues. I conside
r myself the latter.”
“You should consider yourself a dead man if you don’t start talking. Now.” Jayson twirled a blade between his fingers for emphasis, his brown eyes darkening with rage.
“On which topic?” Ezekiel asked casually.
Stas’s heart skipped a beat. Lizzie or my parents? There wasn’t a choice. Not really. Not when her best friend had a baby growing inside her that no one knew anything about.
But my parents… Stas had wanted to know more about them for nearly two decades, and Ezekiel clearly had some answers.
Your father will be quite pleased. An indication that he did know her father and he was still alive.
She reminds me too much of her mother. Meaning he knew her mother as well.
But he also might be able to help with Lizzie’s pregnancy. Assist was the word he’d used.
Stas frowned. “How do we know we can trust your advice regarding Lizzie?”
“Because I’m familiar with Seraphim births.” He held her gaze. “Intimately familiar.”
“You know a Seraphim.”
He grinned. “Several, sweetheart.” He leaned closer, his voice dropping. “As do you.”
“Who?” she demanded.
“Is that your choice?” he countered, not at all impacted by her persuasive skills.
She nearly growled at him. “You’re infuriating.”
“It’s so nice to see you unafraid of me,” he replied, smiling. “Although, this hatred isn’t all that much better, if I’m honest.”
“Get used to it.” Because this conversation wasn’t endearing him to her any more.
He sighed. “I expected that might be the case. All right, darling Stas, choose. What would you like to know?” Jayson started to speak, but Ezekiel held up his hand. “I’m sorry, Jedrick, but this is Stas’s decision. Woman’s choice and all that.”
She glanced at the brown-haired male, knowing exactly what he wanted her to do. Issac’s grip loosened, his thumb drawing a soothing circle against her side, while Tristan observed them all with a bored expression. He would be absolutely no help to the conversation because he couldn’t care less about Stas or Lizzie.
And Issac would be inherently biased on her behalf. Same with Jayson, but on Lizzie’s behalf.
“You can really help her?” she asked softly.
“I wouldn’t offer if I couldn’t,” he replied.
“Yes, you would.” There was an edge to Issac’s tone. “You love mind games almost as much as your maker does.”
Ezekiel snorted. “Not nearly as much, actually.” That speck of anguish lurked in his eyes again, despite the smile quirking his lips.
Did he mean to let her see it? Was it a trick? A way to lull her into a false sense of comfort?
No. No way could that kind of suffering be faked.
She didn’t know much about his past other than he used to hunt and kill fledglings before they could be reborn into Hydraians. He’d disappeared for a while, according to Jayson, many thinking the assassin just retired due to having no one else left to kill. But he was clearly very much alive.
And so very sad.
“Tell me about Lizzie,” she said before her heart could convince her otherwise. Lizzie’s pregnancy was the more imminent issue, while the mystery of Stas’s parents could wait. Her best friend’s health was more important.
“Selfless, loyal, and direct,” he murmured. “Yes, Sethios will be impressed indeed. Once he remembers, of course. But that’s a conversation for another day.” He took a deep breath, as if readying himself for a lecture. “How far along is your Red, Jedrick? Nearly two months now, right?”
“Lara said Lizzie seems to be around four months pregnant already, which is impossible considering our timeline.” He’d calmed down marginally, his gaze still simmering with unveiled fury, but his tone lacked the growl from earlier.
“Your Lara is treating Elizabeth as a mortal patient, of which she is not.” He shifted his legs, lifting his other ankle up to his knee, his gaze going to Jayson. “Your Red is part Seraphim, which means her pregnancy will be significantly escalated because a Seraphim’s gestation period is roughly eight weeks. Given she’s only four months now, according to human technology, I’d say she has another two months before she gives birth.”
“That can’t be healthy,” Stas said, shocked by the escalated timeline.
“She’s not human,” he reminded. “Her body is equipped to handle it. But might I suggest you marry sooner rather than later? I hear women dislike showing in their bridal gowns. Virginity standards, thanks to the puritans.”
Jayson just stared at him. “Any other words of wisdom before you leave?”
Ezekiel sighed. “I’ve not even finished burning my first log yet. You remember this tradition is a twelve-day one, yes?”
“We’re two thousand years in the future, Ezekiel,” Jayson replied. “Try joining us.”
The assassin snorted. “I’d really rather not. Do you know they have gas fireplaces now with fake logs? It used to be considered bad luck to buy your wood. Can you imagine what it means to burn fake wood?” He shook his head. “A sad society, if you ask me.”
“I didn’t.” Jayson folded his arms. “Do you have anything else useful to say?”
“You think I’m here to cause pain when I’m merely seeking a break from it.” He was quiet for a long moment, his gaze finally lifting to Stas. “Your father is my best friend. I look forward to the day when you see him again because only then can we truly begin.”
He stood, leaving Stas gaping up at him. “Then why did you kill him?”
“We both know you don’t believe that. Not really. Not anymore.” He fixed his leather jacket. “The truth is coming, Astasiya. Soon. And trust me when I say I can’t wait for it all to unravel.”
She shifted to her feet, blocking his exit. “If you know so much, why not just tell me? Why draw this out?”
“Because it’s not my place to tell you,” he said softly, sincerity mingling with his lethal energy. “And you know in your heart you just need to embrace it.”
He tried to move around her, but she stepped with him.
“You came all the way here to spend Christmas Eve with us, just to give us some menial information about Lizzie and leave?” She wasn’t accepting that. “No, you want something else. What is it?”
He moved into her personal space, causing Issac to stand at her back. “You’re not ready to fight me yet, little darling. Or Osiris. Or anyone, really. Don’t make the mistake of thinking that your new power is enough, because it’s not. You’re only just beginning to grow into your potential. Don’t spoil it by listening to your emotions.”
His belittling speech lit her blood on fire. “You underestimate me.”
“Oh, no, sweetheart, I truly don’t. I know exactly what you’ll be capable of, just as I know you’re nowhere near that point yet.”
Her fists curled, irritated by his proclamation of knowing these things about her. Frustrated that he could be right. Angry that he wouldn’t tell her more. She tried to compel him with her mind, force him to give her details, but all that did was earn her a glower and a tsk.
“Don’t disappoint your parents by getting yourself killed too early, little angel. They sacrificed everything for you, as have several others. We’re relying on you in ways you’ll soon understand.” He cupped her cheek, his touch cool and unexpected. As were his words.
“Ezekiel,” Issac warned.
The assassin ignored him, his dark eyes glimmering with emotion. “Happy early birthday, little angel.” His lips brushed her forehead just as he started to disappear. “Look for the red feathers. He’ll have all the answers you seek.”
Her heart stopped beating.
Red feathers.
That was what she saw on the roof yesterday.
“Well, he didn’t stay long,” Luc said as he joined them in the living area.
“He wasn’t very useful, either,” Tristan remarked. “I’m going to watc
h the game now.”
Stas blinked, ignoring them all, her focus on Ezekiel’s words.
Little angel.
Her father used to call her that as a child. Did Ezekiel purposely use it to drive home his point? To prove that he knew her? He claimed her father to be his best friend. Claimed to know her true potential. Claimed that she still had a lot more growing to do.
And she felt it in every fiber of her being that he was right.
That persuasion was just the beginning.
She could feel something awakening deep inside of her. The truth. Strength. A new power.
Issac wrapped his arms around her from behind, his face in her hair. “Aya,” he breathed, calling her to the surface. Back to reality. Away from her inner musings.
Everyone had left them.
His warmth a comforting presence at her back.
“I… I believe him, Issac,” she admitted in a soft whisper. “What he said about my father, my powers.” She turned in his arms, his sapphire gaze burning into hers. “I saw red feathers yesterday on the roof before I passed out.”
“Why didn’t you say anything?”
“Because I thought my mind was playing tricks on me again, but something is happening to me.” She clutched his shoulders. “Maybe it’s related to my secondary power?” They had yet to discover what it was, but all Hydraians possessed two.
“Or something else entirely,” he murmured, his palm circling her neck. “When we return to Hydria, we’ll run some tests and talk about this more. All right?”
She swallowed, nodding. “Yes.” She went onto her toes to kiss him softly, craving his familiarity. This week was supposed to be about forgetting their problems and enjoying each other. Instead it had derailed into immortal madness with her seeing strange visions that shouldn’t exist. “I just want to forget for a little while.” Was that so much to ask?
He smiled against her mouth. “I can help with that, Miss Davenport.”
That was the answer she desired. “Promise?”
He nodded, lifting her into his arms. “Always.”
“Always,” she repeated. “Take me to bed.” She purposely wove persuasion through the words, knowing he would approve.