by Lexi C. Foss
Dinner was filled with laughter and carried a familial vibe. They ate at a large table on the patio. She sat between Luc and Issac, observing them and the others with wary interest. Everyone took turns introducing themselves and offered warm welcomes. Balthazar sat on the other side of Luc while a man with dark brown hair and kind eyes sat beside Issac. He introduced himself as Jayson, and he resembled the other males in attendance. Muscular, tall, and easy on the eyes.
The only female Hydraian at the table was a woman named Ash. Her white-blonde hair matched her name, and she appeared to have an affinity for fire. She introduced herself by giving Stas a little wave while playing a blue flame over her fingertips. Reminding her a bit of the sadistic bitch Lucinda, she scooted closer to Issac after that introduction.
There were a few others at the table, including Roger and his family. Everyone laughed and ribbed one another. Issac was the brunt of several jokes, the group teasing his playboy persona and Ichorian ways. He chuckled and shook his head.
“And to think I missed you all,” he said after Ash made a jibe at him. His arm was on the back of Stas’s chair, the tips of his fingers danced over her bare shoulder. He didn’t seem aware he was doing it, his body at ease and his expression pleased.
“This is what Amelia would have wanted,” Luc commented, his voice low.
“Yes. She lived for these dinner parties.” The somber note in Issac’s voice tugged at her heart. This was a man who truly loved his sister.
From what little she gathered in conversation, Amelia was a Hydraian. That was why she couldn’t go to the city. Her husband Eli was Hydraian too. An Elder, she heard one of them say. She wasn’t sure what that meant, but understood that Luc, Balthazar, and Jayson were also Elders. Given Balthazar’s comment about being several millennia older than Issac, she assumed it meant they were old. Maybe the oldest of their kind.
She tried to figure out how the sibling thing worked between Issac and Amelia. He was Ichorian and his sister was a Hydraian. So Amelia’s father was an Ichorian because fledglings turned into Hydraians. And Issac said Stas already had immortal blood in her and that was why he couldn’t turn her, whatever that meant, so by deduction she gathered Issac’s father couldn’t be an Ichorian. So did they share a mother? Luc said they were family because of Amelia. Was he also somehow related to them, or did he mean that figuratively?
Her head spun from all the speculation. Whatever their connection, it was clear Amelia and Issac’s familial bond was the foundation of his friendship with the Hydraians. His love for them was evident in the way he laughed and relaxed in their presence. From what she could tell, the feeling was mutual. The only one he seemed to have any issues with was Balthazar, but she suspected their friendship was as deep as the others, with a touch of healthy rivalry.
“So, Stas, tell me about your job at the CRF,” Luc said before taking a swig from his beer. The table fell silent at the request. She hadn’t said much since introductions and even then only hello. They probably wondered if she could talk.
“Uh, I work with the marketing team. I started as an intern last year, but they just offered me a full time position a few weeks ago.” Not all that interesting yet everyone was gaping at her.
“Hmm.” Luc nursed his beer, gaze pensive. “Issac mentioned you’re close with the CEO and his son. How did you meet?”
“Through my roommate. Her father works at the CRF too.” Where was he going with this?
“Ah, that’s right. You live with the young Watkins. Lizzie, right?”
“Yes,” she managed. Her throat tightened a little, making breathing more difficult than it should be. It seemed Issac told this man quite a bit about her. Why was he so interested? And why was everyone looking at her like she had two heads?
“Amazing. Tell me, do you happen to know Doctor Fitzgerald’s first name?” Luc wondered.
She wasn’t sure why he was asking. A simple internet search would give him the answer. “John.” Not that she ever called him that. For whatever reason, she kept their relationship professional despite how many times he told her to call him by his first name.
“Commonly short for Jonathan?” The innocence underlying Luc’s tone didn’t match the intelligence radiating from those sharp green eyes. She was about to snort at the inane question when she realized what he was saying. Her gaze shot to her demon. He was swirling a glass of red wine with his free hand while awaiting her reaction.
“No.”
“Afraid so,” was all Issac said. So casual. So nonchalant. So uncaring.
She pushed back from the table, knocking his arm from her chair. “No.”
“He tried to ignite a world war.” Luc’s voice still held that note of innocence to it. She balled her hands into fists in an effort to refrain from the urge to punch him.
“I don’t believe you.”
“He tried to make it look like the Conclave, thinking it would incite my kind to finally seek revenge against our makers, the Ichorians. Eli being an Elder and Amelia being my half-sister, it almost worked. Issac was the one who realized what really happened. He saved a lot of lives in the process.”
Her head was shaking back and forth on its own accord. “You’re wrong.”
“I’m not.” Issac said, standing. She took several steps back, hitting the wall of the house. “The Sentinel program your precious Tom belongs to isn’t out performing humanitarian missions, not the ones they release to the media, anyway. They are out hunting rogue supernaturals, and killing them. And war is good for business. Jonathan knows that better than anyone. If conflict between our races were to ever spill over into the mortal realm, who will be there waiting with a solution? The CRF’s Sentinel program. Ingenious, right?”
“You’re lying.” She was trembling, but her words came out steady and with conviction. “You’re friends.” She saw him with Dr. Fitzgerald. They shared jokes and stories like old colleagues. Why was he accusing her mentor of this?
Because he’s right, her subconscious whispered. She shoved the voice to the back of her mind. Her mentor and friend would never do this to her. Except Tom sent you to an Ichorian club where you almost died? That voice wasn’t as far back as she thought. Damn it. Issac had no real reason to lie and she knew it, but a part of her hated him for making her see the truth and for not revealing it sooner.
“Remember what I told you just hours ago? The best revenge takes careful planning. He thinks I blame the Conclave and therefore trusts that our relationship is intact. He’s comfortable. Exactly where I want him to be.”
She shook her head, trying to clear it, but he kept plowing ahead.
“Think, Astasiya. What humanitarian organization subjects their civilian staff to full-blown security clearances? How about the Nizari poison that almost killed you? Do you think that’s standard for all employees, because I’m guessing not. I’m betting the good doctor requested his medical staff administer it after he saw us last weekend. Our little kiss did not go unnoticed, and neither did my perceived interest in you. Jonathan and I have known each other for centuries. I don’t date women. I fuck them. My interest in you only piqued his curiosity.”
An arrow through the heart would have hurt less. That explained all the attention, the black tie event, the kiss in the hallway at the restaurant. It was all for show. She knew that already, but his confirmation still burned a hole through her chest. His blatant lack of remorse turned her inside out. He just stared at her with an expectant look, waiting for her to understand the validity of his words.
The security clearance she understood. It was required by several government agencies. It was the questions she recalled from her polygraph that forced her to rethink her convictions. They asked about Ichorians and Hydraians, two terms she never heard until that day. One could be a coincidence, but two demonstrated a knowledge of his world most mortals didn’t possess.
She shook her head. Dr. Fitzgerald would never hurt her. He cared for her, was a mentor. He didn’t know about the vaccines, b
ut he was interested in how she felt afterwards. Because he cared, or was there more to it? What would he have done if she admitted to getting sick? Kill her? She shivered at the thought. For six years, she looked up to him. He wasn’t a cruel man. He couldn’t be building an army. And if he was, how was he getting away with it? Wouldn’t Osiris know and do something about it? The master Ichorian didn’t seem to handle rebellion well, as was evidenced by Sierra’s execution.
But the facts were damning. Everything she learned over the last week hinted at Dr. Fitzgerald being guiltier than not. Did he know she was a fledgling when they gave her the shot, or was it standard employee protocol? That was something only her mentor could answer. Maybe it was a test to see how she would react, but why would someone who cares about her subject her to potential death? And what was that bit about Issac knowing Jonathan for centuries? Was he an immortal too? What about his son?
Tom. He was a Sentinel, and Dr. Fitzgerald’s son. That meant he knew about the supernatural as well and sent her to the Arcadia for the worst reasons. A naive part of her hoped he sent her there to find Issac cheating, not feeding. It seemed the whole point was to show her he was a demon, but why send her to the Conclave? That couldn’t have been on purpose. Just because he was mad at her didn’t mean he wanted to kill her. Or did he?
She stumbled to the side. The idea that Tom might have sent her to be slaughtered on purpose was too much. She needed a break. Her mind was overloaded with scenarios she didn’t want to consider anymore.
When Issac moved to help her, she held up a hand. “Don’t fucking touch me.” He lost that privilege when he admitted to her purpose in his life.
He dropped his hand. She wasn’t sure how long the command would last, but she hoped forever. The look in his eyes told her to run. He wasn’t the kind of man who appreciated having power wielded over him and the second it wore off, his hands would be on her, and not in a pleasant way.
She ran into the house and back down the hall to where she last saw her purse. Finding it and her sandals gone, she turned around to face a muscular male chest. She took a step back, glowering up at the irate Ichorian.
“Where’s my purse?”
He folded his arms over his grey shirt and raised two perfect eyebrows. “Going somewhere?”
“Not yet.” She walked around him, conscious that he still couldn’t touch her.
“And where will you go? To Jonathan? Tell him you’re a fledgling and hope he uses you for research instead of killing you outright?”
She stopped at the back staircase, refused to turn around. “That would just suck for you, wouldn’t it? All that work you put into your pawn, just to lose it to the man who supposedly murdered your sister.” Tears pricked her eyes. She would not cry in front of him. Not again. “Well, I’m sorry you wasted your precious fucking time. Now, where’s my purse?”
“In the pool house with your suitcase,” he said, somehow driving the knife further into her gut. He couldn’t even offer her a room in his home. They were no doubt reserved for the women he fucked. Not her. It was all a game between them. A means to an end. She couldn’t believe she ever thought it could be something else. Foolish notions for a foolish woman.
She went through the patio doors towards the rear of the house, ignoring all the people seated at the table, and headed towards the swimming pool. It was at least twenty-five meters long and ten meters wide. She went around it, walking through the open patio doors. A full kitchen sat just inside with a breakfast nook tucked off to one side. Beyond it was a set of double doors that opened into a massive bedroom.
Her purse and suitcase were in the corner, just beyond the four-poster bed. At least it was a nice guest room. She was pulling her phone from her purse when the bedroom doors closed. Issac was leaning against them, his arms crossed again and one eyebrow raised.
What more was there for him to say? She knew now why he was using her. Not how he planned to execute his plan, but she wouldn’t be sticking around long enough to hear about it. There was only so much damage her heart could take in one day. Stupid mercurial organ, falling for a man she had no business falling for. He was a demon, for crying out loud. The waterworks threatened again. What the hell was wrong with her?
Refocusing on her phone, she noticed several missed calls from Tom and a text from Lizzie telling her dinner went okay. She hadn’t realized how late it was until she read the time. It would be well after midnight by the time she got back to the city. Then what would she do? Confront Dr. Fitzgerald? Talk to Tom? A hysterical laugh threatened to bubble out of her.
The phone trembled in her hand. She didn’t know who to call. No way was she bringing Lizzie into this mess. Owen was dead. She couldn’t trust Tom. Her parents were too far away, not that she would allow them anywhere near this world. A cab would do, but she wasn’t sure where to go. What little money she had wouldn’t last long. She texted her roommate back with a quick, I won’t be home tonight. Don’t worry about me. She didn’t give a location because she didn’t know where to go.
Her throat was thick with emotion. Dropping her phone in her purse, she let the bag fall to the floor. There was no one for her to call. Even if they were wrong about the CRF, she couldn’t risk it. They weren’t wrong about her being gifted. All it took was the wrong Ichorian getting his hands on her and she would die.
“Talk to me.” The three words were spoken directly behind her. He still wasn’t touching her, but he was only a few inches away. If she turned now, he would see the wet shine in her eyes.
“Why?”
“Because I need to know you’re okay.”
She took a deep, fortifying breath. It was that or turn around and punch him in the face. Of course she wasn’t okay. “I’m fine.”
“Your little show of persuasion out there says otherwise.” His warmth was right at her back, his step forward silent on the plush carpet. He still wasn’t touching her. It was the only thing keeping her from breaking down. She couldn’t handle it if her body caved to him. Not after everything he revealed. He toyed with her emotions just to pique the interest of Dr. Fitzgerald. I don’t date women. I fuck them.
She turned around, meeting his gaze despite the emotions she knew were evident in her eyes. They wouldn’t matter to him anyway.
“I know you don’t really care.” The defeated note in her voice couldn’t be helped. All she wanted was to be alone, and he wouldn’t even grant her that. “So why even bother? Just go back to your dinner party. It’s not like I’m going anywhere. You can even take my phone if it makes you feel better. I’ll be fine.”
The latter was a lie. She would never be fine, at least not inside. Outside she could pretend. Swallowing her emotions was a fine art she mastered years ago. That was how she survived the years following her parents’ deaths. She picked up her purse and handed it to him. He took it and set it on the bed beside them.
“I know you’re not going to run, Astasiya. That’s not why I’m standing here.”
Wrapping her arms around herself, she sighed. “Then what do you want from me?” What would it take to get him to leave her alone?
He started to lift his hand, but dropped it. Those beautiful eyes almost looked troubled. An act, no doubt. She wasn’t sure why he was still trying. Maybe it was difficult to drop the facade after playing it for so long.
“You never handle anything the way I expect you to. It’s amazing.”
Some of her earlier fire reignited, strengthening her voice. “Happy to amuse you. Can you kindly fuck off now?” It was worded as a question, not a command, so he didn’t leave. If he didn’t walk away soon, she would persuade him to.
His eyes widened. “You’re furious with me.” Now he was stating the obvious. “Because I told you the truth about Jonathan?”
She just stared at him. He couldn’t be serious. “Why are you still pretending to care? Do you get some sort of sick pleasure from it? Trying to see how long you can toy with your little pawn before it finally breaks?”
> “Astasiya —”
“No. This charade thing is done. You made yourself very clear. Your feigned interest piqued John’s curiosity. Given that he nearly killed me with that Nizari crap, I’d say you did a fine job. What I don’t understand is why you’re still standing in front of me, acting like you care when we both know you don’t.”
Silence.
A fire lit his blue irises, making her stomach flip. She wasn’t sure if he wanted to kiss her or kill her. The intensity pushed her back a step. The back of her knees hit the nightstand.
“While true that my interest in you also intrigued Jonathan, there is nothing feigned about it. If I could touch you right now, I would demonstrate thoroughly.” Each word was spoken in a slow and careful manner. There was no mistaking the heat in his eyes.
She swayed, her legs going weak. Her will caved the moment he looked at her like that. The demand from earlier no longer held any power over him. He could touch her anytime he wanted to.
“Do you understand why Lucian is here?” She wasn’t given a chance to reply. “The danger you were in last night … Let’s just say, I haven’t felt that way in a very long time. That’s why I called Lucian. He’s here to help you become a Hydraian, and to help keep you alive.”
She bit the inside of her cheek. That’s what he meant about packing for her, but he phrased it as a choice. Like she might decide to leave. “But what about your revenge?” That was the whole point of their association.
He palmed the back of his neck. “It seems my desire for you to live trumps my need to avenge my sister’s murder.” She thought he might continue, but he opened the drawer of the dresser beside them and pulled out swim trunks instead. She frowned at it. Storing swimwear in the pool house made sense, but there were other clothes in that drawer.
He took several steps towards the door before pausing, not meeting her gaze. “I’m going for a swim. Let me know if I need to find somewhere else to sleep tonight. I’ll understand if you need space.”