“Of course, but first we must address something before we continue. And then we can talk about anything you so desire.”
She raised a curious brow at him. “Alright. What is it?”
He sighed heavily and reached for her hand. She immediately moved her arm away, and her suspicion escalated. He quickly hid his annoyance before she could see it in his face and instead gave her a slightly exasperated look. There was a time when she had moaned at his touch, but now she cringed away from him. How quickly things had changed.
“Really, Moira? Is it so wrong for me to want to hold your hand?”
Her eyes clouded over with regret, but she placed her hand back on the sofa in the space between them. “I suppose not.”
He smiled, hoping his lips didn’t curve too much or her suspicion would grow. He grabbed her hand, sliding his fingers between hers, and was careful to keep his mind cleared of all intent. However, he allowed himself to indulge in one sentiment. He slowly caressed her hand with his thumb, enjoying the feel of her skin against his and remembering the times when she had moaned beneath him. If only he could go back to that time—back to his bed with her.
Moira was beautiful, and even more so with that mind of hers. She was strong, fiery, and bold—everything he desired in a woman. And she was like a favourite pet he wasn’t yet ready to put down, even if she did continue to bite him. If only she would forget about the detective and come back to him. Jonathan had warned him, insisting the concubine was not to be trusted. He had told Icarus her feelings for the detective were clouding her judgement and that she would never work with them. He had said she had chosen her side, aligning herself with Mr. Edwards and the police instead of her own kind. She was a traitor, a whore, and a useless bitch.
But Jonathan was wrong.
Icarus knew that. He knew Moira was intelligent and her hatred for the Elite ran deep in her bones like any empath—but more so because she was a concubine. She had killed once, and she wouldn’t hesitate to do it again. No, Moira would soon be his again.
His amber eyes looked up at her, and his voice was low and hypnotic. “Some people would say those who love are fools. They either believe there’s no such thing as love, or they think the fallen have doomed themselves to heartbreak. Do you think love is for fools, Moira?”
“I–I don’t know.”
She swallowed noticeably, and her mind filled with thoughts of the detective. Icarus’s jaw clenched, and he forced himself to breathe evenly. After everything, the concubine believed she was in love with Mr. Edwards. She had left him for the detective, and the realization caused him to seethe in silent rage. She was his, not Keenan’s. Yet he saw it in her mind she would do anything to protect the other man, even risk her own life. The Moira he knew would never sacrifice her life for another’s, especially for someone who wasn’t an empath. She was selfish and cruel, another reason he had been drawn to her. She would do anything to survive, just like him, and in that they were very much alike.
But Keenan Edwards was somehow persuading her he was on her side and that he would protect her if anything were to happen. All lies. The detective would throw her back in prison along with every other empath and let her rot beneath the police station.
“I don’t believe it,” he whispered beneath his breath, disgusted. “You think you’re in love with the detective.”
“What?” Her eyes widened, and she tried to free her hand.
He tightened his grip, squeezing her hand in his. “My God, you are a fool if you think you have a future with that man. What do you think is going to happen once the Phoenix is caught? He might keep you—you certainly are pretty enough—but you’ll be his mistress and he’ll be your master. Your body will be his, and he’ll fuck you until he grows tired of you.”
Her anger rushed into him, violent in its intensity, but he continued. “While you’re pining away after him, he’ll find some young, respectable woman of society to marry and they’ll have children. He might continue to use you whenever he desires, but the moment your beauty fades, it won’t be long before he grows bored of you. And then you’ll be nothing to him.”
“That’s none of your business,” she snarled. She tried to yank her hand out of his, but he knew the seed of doubt was already spreading in her mind. “Let go of me!”
His lips curved deviously, and he pulled hard on her arm. She cried out in anguish before her body crashed into his, and he wrapped his free arm possessively around her torso. She immediately struggled against his hold, but he was the physically stronger one of the two. Before she could enter his mind and use persuasion, Icarus shattered her barrier and dived into her mind. Her eyes widened in shock, and she quickly tried to disorient him by moving the staircases. But he knew exactly where to go, weaving through her elaborate landscape to the deeper depths of her mind. It wasn’t long before he found himself standing before a familiar door with his marking etched into the wood’s surface, and his lips curved into a victorious grin.
“I’m sorry I have to do this now, but I need my Moira back.”
A key materialized in his hand, and he inserted it into the lock. She continued to resist him and scrambled to enter his mind. But it was too late. He turned the knob and opened the door. She was his, and she would remember. The moment the door was opened, long-forgotten memories flooded out, and he heard Moira screaming in his ear as her body fell limp in his arms.
“You’re mine, Moira.” He caressed her face tenderly and lowered his voice to a whisper. “My little pawn.”
Acknowledgments
I would first like to thank my editor, Tova Diker, for her excellent suggestions. I’m also grateful to Penner Publishing for loving Mind of the Phoenix, and for picking up the second book in the Memory Collector series, Pawn of the Phoenix. I would also like to give a brief shout out to my fellow Penner authors (you know who you are). Without you, this whole process would have been a lonely one. Thanks for the tips and the many laughs. And lastly—but most importantly—I would like to thank my friends and family who have supported me and continue to do so. I love you all very much.
About the Author
Jamie McLachlan is a graduate from Grant MacEwan University with a major in English and a minor in Philosophy. She decided to put her day dreaming to good use by weaving tales of speculative fiction. Avid reader and lover of all things creative, she lives in Canada with her family.
To connect with Jamie:
@jamiemclachlan8
AuthorJamieMcLachlan
www.jamiemclachlan.com
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The Pawn of the Phoenix (The Memory Collector Series Book 2) Page 25