“Great,” Hartmann said once he read back the address and I confirmed it. “I’ll send someone out straight away. We’re having a slow day, so I could get back to you in a few hours with the preliminary report.”
After we exchanged our goodbyes, I remembered one important fact.
Linus was probably at the club.
I quickly texted him with a heads-up to make himself scarce unless he harbored the desire for a reunion with ICRA, then trotted into the cafe at long last.
Not a bad outcome for less than twenty-four hours on the job.
True to his word, Hartman called me in well before noon. I gave myself a mental pat on the shoulder for managing to find his office without getting lost. ICRA HQ might have looked like a sleek, modern building from the outside, but that polished facade hid an entire labyrinth of corridors, as well as passages that connected the high-rise to the surrounding structures where more ICRA spaces lurked. Sly didn’t even begin to cover it.
The computer forensics and tech team had an entire floor to themselves, filled cubicles similar to my own—only with a whole lot of additional computers strewn about. Amusement swirled through me. You could practically scent the geek in the air—a sensation that infused me with an additional sense of easiness and reminded me a bit of my older brother Ludvig. While I’d never qualify for a geek membership, that didn’t mean I couldn’t appreciate the atmosphere.
Even the dress code was casual judging by the vast array of styles I spotted after a vamp in a statement tee checked my badge and let me onto the floor.
The faint scent of electronics followed me all the way to the corridor—twin to the one I’d seen Elena take on our floor. I hadn’t been wrong. Two glass-front offices greeted me as I approached, with a door marked ARCHIVES on the far left, perpendicular to the one labeled SUPPLIES.
My nostrils flared slightly as I sampled the currents, then traced the one unmistakenly belonging to a werewolf to Hartman’s office. The glass slid open before I could as much as knock. Sensors, I presumed.
The werewolf moved gently to the beat of old-school synth-pop music playing in the background, his tattooed fingers flying across the slim keyboard set up on the stand before him.
He flashed me a wide, brilliant grin when I crossed over the threshold, then stepped away from the station to offer me his hand. “Nice to put a face to the name. I’m Markus.”
“Lotte.” I smiled, appreciating the firm, but not imposing, handshake. “And right back at you.”
“Well, you might want to reconsider that once you hear my news,” he said apologetically and nearly upended the desk at the center of the space as he went to retrieve a—
Oh, shit.
That had to be the largest fucking stack of papers I’d ever seen.
And after all the years I’d worked at the Zentrum, that was saying a lot.
The distress must have shown on my face because Markus winced, a gesture that offset the multitude of steel adorning his lip and brow. He held the folder tower as if he weren’t entirely sure whether he should hand it over or not—which earned him massive bonus points in my book.
Schultz, my former bastard of a boss, would have more than gladly just shoved the monstrosity my way.
I loosened a breath and ended Markus’s dilemma by stretching out my arms.
“We found no mention of Niram anywhere in the system,” he explained as he carefully transferred over the stack—not a small feat since the folders reached a little past my chin. “But we pulled her contact lists and all her correspondences from the computers and cell phone alike. Emails, social media, even calendar entries. It’s all there. Including the general activity logs.”
That I didn’t doubt.
“I wish we could have done more…”
“No, no, that’s all right. I don’t mind combing through this manually,” I lied through gritted teeth, struggling to keep the papers from tumbling down.
Markus laughed. “Do you want me to help carry that pillar to your desk?”
“Thanks, but no. I wouldn’t want to keep you from your work. And I guess I could use the exercise.” I huffed. “To think I once believed acting as CEO was bad for my back…”
He rewarded my comment with another brilliant smile. Gods, ICRA really was intent on fucking with my head. First Elena, now Markus. Honestly, I had no idea why the Agency had chosen to put unlikable people to the forefront of public interaction when they had gems like these two hidden in their midst.
I kept mulling over that thought all the way back to the main building and its sub-level one. Another on-duty agent spotted my unintentional swagger out of the elevator and helped me maneuver the damn paper tower onto my desk before hurrying back to her station. As much as I wanted to just collapse in my chair, my work was far from done.
Glaring at the papers, I blew out a breath, then stalked back to the elevator. There was no way I could tackle this on a bloody empty stomach.
My phone beeped just as I exited the elevator and walked into the lobby. My stomach twisted into a knot. Greta.
Unfortunately, the content of her well-natured message made the discomfort that much worse. I swallowed and read the single question one more time.
How’s your freedom?
It wasn’t that I wanted to lie to my sister about where I’d ended up, but somehow admitting my involvement with ICRA to her… Shit, there wasn’t really any rational reason behind it, but I wanted to keep my job under wraps for just a while longer. Even if it did make me feel like the lousiest sister alive.
Doing my best not to grimace, I tapped back a quick, vague answer that teetered on the verge of truth, then pushed out into the street.
Only to get cut off by a wall of muscle.
Thirteen
Strong hands steadied me as I struggled to liberate my own from my pockets without sending the phone flying onto the concrete. It would be a damn shame to break my scratch-free streak now. Gods knew my cell boasted enough scars already…
When I finally disentangled myself without any tech casualties and looked up, a pair of familiar brown-green eyes stared back at me—eyes that took in the badge I’d forgotten to take off and my unbuttoned coat did nothing to hide. I swore.
The surprise on Morozov’s face indicated he’d read my fresh ICRA status before I could do a damn thing to conceal the badge. Not that walking out of HQ wasn’t incriminating enough all on its own, but I could have maybe used a white lie or two to smooth over the truth.
Too late now.
“So you’ve accepted.”
I had a sneaking suspicion I must have looked like a deer caught in the headlights as shock rippled through me, because Morozov took a step back then clarified, “I was aware of Isa’s intention to approach you with the offer. She consulted me a few weeks ago after you passed all standard tests with flying colors. But I hadn’t known you took the job.”
Okay, that changed things. A little. My erratic pulse calmed, although I was feeling even lousier for misleading Greta less than a minute before. Fuck, her boss knew what was up. Had obviously supported it, judging by the approval in his tone.
Well, shit. I couldn’t keep my sister in the dark now.
Not for long, anyway.
“Circumstances shifted,” I admitted and scooted to the side as a warlock in an ICRA-approved black suit approached the entrance. After he offered us a cordial, curt nod—which we both returned—I focused on Morozov again. “I guess I realized I couldn’t sit on the sidelines.”
The werewolf shot me a look that hinted he wasn’t hearing anything new, although I was fairly certain this had nothing to do with Melina.
“Greta told me enough to understand this isn’t the path you wanted.” He jammed his hands in his pockets. “If the War hadn’t happened, you would have gladly led a semblance of a human life.”
“With a few were boons thrown in,” I pointed out and earned myself a sincere smile.
“But I saw that something in you, Lotte, when you took
it upon yourself to track down the laboratory and rescue your sister.” His gaze burrowed into my very soul, green filaments catching the pale sunlight. “You have the drive of a hunter. It might not have flared up until recently, but it’s not something a person can will into existence if it isn’t there in the first place. Just as it’s not something you can deny once it takes hold.”
I swallowed and wrung my coat tighter around my body. Damn him. Yes, I was protective of my pack, however unconventional, but what Morozov was saying…
That I wasn’t ready to admit just yet. If ever.
“I’m just a liaison,” I muttered, though the words lacked conviction.
A knowing, sympathetic smile touched Morozov’s lips. “For now.”
When I didn’t answer, he placed a hand on my shoulder. His grip was firm, reassuring, and for a moment there, I was actually at peace with the choices I’d made. Unfortunately, the bubble burst when I caught a hint of Greta’s scent on him.
Just an innocent, faint trace deposited there through their proximity, but it brought me back to reality nonetheless.
I backed from his touch and turned my gaze on the midday traffic. “Greta doesn’t know yet.”
“You’re afraid she won’t support you?”
“I’m afraid she’ll worry.”
The chuckle that rumbled from his chest caught me by surprise. The corners of his eyes crinkled, softening his hard features and revealing there was more to the head of the Violent Crimes division than his rough edges led on.
“You have to give Greta more credit than that.” He rubbed the back of his short cropped hair, and I could have sworn a blush tinted his cheeks. “Of course she’ll worry. She loves you. But do you honestly think this could be any worse than you getting into trouble without ICRA’s backing?”
I blinked, staring at him as if I were seeing him for the first time. Then burst out laughing.
“Fuck, I do have a bit of a shit record lately, don’t I?” I wiped away a tear and sucked in a deep breath that barely put an end to the resounding laughs so damn eager to escape. “Thanks for this. Really, I needed the reminder. I promise I’ll speak with Greta soon.”
“I don’t need your promise, Lotte.” Despite its natural roughness, Morozov’s voice came out soft. “Just make sure to keep the ones you make to yourself.”
With that, he strode into the building, leaving me speechless and oddly determined to tackle the case, not as a concerned friend, but someone who has the power—and duty—to bring the guilty party to justice.
Yeah, in the span of what must have been forty, maybe fifty, seconds, Morozov had given me the pep talk of my life.
I hoped Greta would confess her feelings and keep him around. That man was one gem of a werewolf.
When Afanasiy materialized inside my living room that evening, I felt as if I were looking in a mirror. Tired eyes, a few lines of displeasure around the mouth, and that air of really wanting nothing more than to be done with the world. At least for one night.
All of that, however, disappeared the instant he ambushed my curled-up form on the couch.
My back hit the soft pillow, Afanasiy’s hair a spill of pure black cordoning us off from the rest of reality as his face hovered mere inches away. The gleam in his violet eyes matched the spark I sensed flare-up in mine. His toned body caged me against the couch, and the way his knees pushed my thighs together only worsened the tight, heated fullness building in my core.
Somehow, my hands found their way to his shoulders.
“Good evening, beautiful,” he whispered, but didn’t give me a chance to reply.
He slanted his mouth over mine. We both groaned as our lips parted and his taste exploded on my tongue. I squirmed as heat pooled between my thighs, desperately edging for more contact to alleviate the pressure.
With a dark, delicious chuckle, Afanasiy ground his hips against me. Even fully clothed, there was no mistaking the hard press of his erection. I sank my nails into his shoulders, earning another one of those chuckles that sounded like pure sex.
Gods, my desire for him went beyond anything I could have ever imagined.
As I battled the nearly overwhelming need to claim the demon as mine, Afanasiy explored my mouth. Lazily. Thoroughly. All the while his fingers teased and taunted.
My every nerve came alive under his touch. He commanded me; held my body, soul, and heart. A delicious predicament to be in, though I cursed my inability to wrap my legs around him as the ache between my legs grew and spread through my very essence. As my awareness of him rose to a higher plane.
Shit, I needed Afanasiy to crush me under all that delicious muscle. Needed to feel him inside.
His own hunger swirled around us—a promise that I was on the right verge of getting what I wished. But just as I shifted beneath him in a silent plea to hurry, my stomach rumbled. Violently.
Afanasiy’s laugh trickled into our kiss.
He braced himself on his hands and stared down at me. “We need to head over to your parents’ house and get some food into you, kāros. It wouldn’t do either of us any favors if your body gave way before the night was over.”
Despite the teasing tone, a hint of a growl underlined his words—which only made it that much worse to disentangle myself from him.
But he had a point.
As much as I wanted to lose myself in him right this moment, the silken caress of the promise of what was to come overpowered everything else.
“About that…” I outlined the contours of his face with a finger. “Would you mind if we stayed in tonight? I’m not exactly in a conversational mood”—except when it came to him, of course—“and my parents still don’t know I gave up working at the Zentrum.”
Liesl and Paul, being their loving, observant selves, would definitely know something was up. And while I had every intention of looping them in, I’d much rather do so when I wasn’t quite as worn out.
Afanasiy touched his forehead to mine, then straightened. “As long as I get to spend time with you, I don’t care what we do.”
The blunt, simple confession brought tears to my eyes. I quickly blinked them away and smiled. “I’ve missed you.”
“As did I.” He gracefully jumped off the couch, flipped his unbound hair over one shoulder, and offered me his hand. “Now come. I would love to hear about your day before my name becomes the only word you’re still capable of saying.”
I allowed him to lift me up, but the instant he let go, I landed a light punch on his shoulder. “Asshole.”
Afanasiy chuckled and drew me in for a quick kiss, then he guided me by the hand into the kitchen. “You talk, I’ll cook.”
Secreting away a smile, I sent an apologetic text to my mom, then perched my butt on the counter—close to Afanasiy, but just far enough not to get in his way. The talking part, however, had to wait until I was finished gawking.
In the past months, Afanasiy and I had had a lot of sex, some play-fights, as well as a diverse range of conversations. But this—this was different. Regardless of what we’d shared, everything before struck me more as actions of and between lovers.
Seeing him move around my kitchen, whipping up dinner while we—if I hadn’t been so struck by the flood of emotions—talked about our respective days… It was more.
And it made resisting the tug of our bond that much harder.
Since that was an area I really didn’t want to dip my toes into with everything else I had on my plate, I started to sum up what had happened during the day. My meeting with Bathilda, Aaron, the run-in with Morozov, then, finally, the absolute lack of any mention of Melina’s father in the nauseating stack of printouts Markus had handed over.
Annoyance stirred at the thought of an entire afternoon spent combing through messages and social media, but Afanasiy swooped in before it got too bad. Sadly, his news wasn’t all that better than mine.
“I wish I could explain in detail”—he sighed and ran a hand through his long hair as he waited for the gn
occhi to float to the surface—“but you know how it is with Shadow World issues and outsiders.”
“I know.”
I’d learned early on how excruciatingly tight-lipped they were when it came to sharing information. Their rule was simple. If you weren’t part of the Shadow World, you weren’t privy to the events going on there. Although in my case, that was something I could rectify by taking the step I, unfortunately, wasn’t quite ready to just yet…
“There’s some budding unrest among the demons.” He chose his words with care, tone clipped. “And not just ours.”
I snatched a mozzarella slice off a nearby plate and popped it into my mouth. “Is it bad?”
“It has the potential to be.”
“Fuck,” I said softly. I thought of Lena, wondering if she had been called in to perform her daughter-of-a-liege duties, as well.
Lena.
Every muscle in my body went perfectly still. “That’s it.”
Fourteen
After a concerned glance at my frozen form that must have reassured him all was well in Lotte-land, Afanasiy fished the gnocchi out of the water, distributed them evenly on our plates, then cocked his head to the side.
“What’s it, kāros?”
“Lena. She mentioned she had a sister…” I furrowed my brow, trying to remember the name. “Liva. Yeah, Liva. She’s married—mated?—to a Fae. Maybe he could help me track down Niram.” Excitement stirring, I jumped off the counter. “I’ve got to call her.”
“No, no, no.” Afanasiy caught me with a hand around my waist just as I wanted to bolt out the door. “It can wait until tomorrow. Nothing good will come out of you wearing yourself out.” His voice dropped, caressing the suddenly very sensitive skin of my neck. “I have centuries of experience to back up the statement.”
I sucked in a breath and turned to him, unable to hide just what those other areas of experience did to me.
A smile played in the corner of his lips. The hand he kept on my back slipped under the waist of my pants. Then lower.
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