He touched my hand and it felt like he had shocked me. I swallowed hard and managed to keep from jerking my hand away. “Lauren, may I ask you a personal question?”
“Okay,” I said. Withdrawing my hand from his shoulder, I folded my hands in my lap. The skin on the back of my hand still tingled, but I resisted rubbing it. I didn’t want Mathias to know his touch had any effect on me. “Ask.”
“Why do you refuse to go out with Beth and the others? They invite you without fail to join them for one thing or another, and you have never gone with them.” Mathias was completely focused on his tea, rotating the mug in his hands, as he continued, “You do not strike me as the type of person who naturally prefers isolation. So, why do you do it?”
I opened my mouth fully intent on offering a trite excuse or even a denial. “I have gone out with the girls. Just not this year.” I hesitated, the denial of my self-imposed isolation hovering on the tip of my tongue, but then I shook my head. Dropping my gaze to my hands, I rubbed them together as I quietly stated, “I stopped spending extra time with them when I realized I could easily make friends with them, especially Beth. It’s something I’ve learned over the years. Not letting people, not getting close to people, I mean. So it’s one of my rules. Don’t spend too much time with others.”
“Because you’re a Spotter?”
For a moment, I almost took the copout. But . . . the secret from my past weighed so heavily and I didn’t hear any judgment in Mathias’ question, just mild concern and even understanding. I couldn’t remember the last time anyone had been understanding of my decisions, my tactics for protecting myself. My eyes burned and I blinked away moisture. “Partially. But, it’s more than being born a Spotter. I was . . . I was, umm, abandoned when I was a child.” I couldn’t bring myself to risk looking at him as my voice dropped to a shaky whisper, “It is very difficult to not . . . to feel anything other than unwanted after that happens. So, I learned fast that I shouldn’t grow too close to anyone. Eventually they’ll get tired of me too, and they’ll leave just like everyone else.”
I sniffed and blinked back more tears. “Not to mention that danger of exposing myself as a Spotter. My parents’ first rule was not to talk about the numbers.”
I nearly jumped out of my skin when something warm covered my cold fingers. Mathias gave my hands a gentle squeeze. I looked up into his intense gaze. “I shouldn’t have told you that.”
“No, I’m honored you did.” His grip on my hands tightened slightly but it was comforting, not painful. “How old were you when they left?”
“I was three or four.” I shivered as old memories tried to rise to the surface. I sniffed again. “I guess I wasn’t able to follow the rules well enough.”
“Lauren.”
I flinched. Embarrassment and shame flooding me as I realized what I had let slip. I forced a laugh that sounded hollow to my own ears. “I’m sorry. I don’t know why I said that. That was a silly thing to say and I, umm, I shouldn’t have said it.”
I started to move, but stilled when Mathias’ grip on my hands tightened an infinitesimal amount. Then, he touched my chin forcing me to look up again. His eyes bore into me as he stated quietly but firmly, “You are not to blame. Anyone who would give you up was either making the ultimate sacrifice or they were utter fools.”
Normally, I would have argued or even offered a tiny nod just to make the conversation stop. Instead, I stared at him. He looked so sincere. “Do you truly believe that?”
“Of course, I do, Lauren.” Mathias grew silent for a moment and he leaned closer, almost within kissing distance.
The timer buzzed and we both leaned back. Feeling myself blushing, I couldn’t quite look him in the eyes anymore as I slipped off the couch and hurried into the kitchen. As I rescued the cookies, though, his words stayed with me. And, I found myself almost able to believe him. That I had value in his eyes at least.
* * *
Chapter Nine
Lauren
Mathias’ words were still ringing in my head at the end of work the next day. I gathered my coat and umbrella preparing to leave when Sharon called my name. I waited at the reception desk for her to join me. Sharon slipped her purse over her shoulder as she approached. “Good, I’m glad I was able to catch you, Miss Hope. I need to speak with you.”
“Have you found a new receptionist?”
Sharon shook her head sending her silver braids quivering. “None of the candidates have been a suitable fit for Halliman’s. And, that is why I wish to speak with you.”
“With me,” I echoed. My heart started beating faster and it was a struggle to keep my breathing from increasing. Oh no. Please don’t let her say what I think she’s about to say. Please!
A quick nod and then Sharon gestured for me to precede her out the doors. Knowing I had no choice, I followed her into the elevator. The doors slid closed behind me and it took everything in me not to dissolve into a full panic attack. She couldn’t be about to say what I was dreading. It wouldn’t make any sense.
“Miss Hope, you have proven yourself adaptable, clever, efficient, and completely reliable under pressure.”
She paused, and I knew she was waiting for me to respond. I didn’t have anything to say. I blinked and then murmured a soft, “Thank you.”
Fortunately, that seemed to satisfy the older woman as she offered a curt nod. Setting the tip of her umbrella against the ground, she looked rather like a queen holding court as she continued, “I’ve been watching you for some time now, Miss Hope. When you didn’t go after the last few opportunities to rise in this company, I wondered if it was because you knew your coworkers who took the promotions needed it more or if you quite simply lacked ambition. Yet, you have always been an efficient worker. A little quiet compared to some of the girls, but very efficient. I am a great admirer of efficiency, especially among the secretaries and receptionists. Which is why I have spoken with Mr. Halliman, and he has agreed that you should have the choice of becoming the new exec receptionist.”
I stared at her. My tongue seemed to have glued itself to the roof of my mouth. My capabilities to form coherent thoughts also seemed to have abandoned me. “I . . . I am shocked, umm, no. No, I mean, surprised. I didn’t think that would be a . . . feasible move for me.”
Sharon pursed her lips, her eyes weighing me, as her fingernails tapped against the handle of her umbrella. Could this elevator take any longer to descend? I resisted the urge to squirm under her gimlet gaze. But when Sharon spoke, it wasn’t to retract the offer as I had almost dared to hope. “You are correct, Miss Hope, that becoming a receptionist might be considered by some as a demotion from your current position. However, because you would be working on the executive level, it becomes more of a lateral move. In addition, your path to continued progression within the firm would change and even shorten. A receptionist for the executive level will often work closely with the personal assistants for the executives and,” she paused to give me a long look, “a particularly exceptional receptionist may find herself paired with a junior executive and rise to the tier of personal assistant.”
A shaky breath escaped me and it was all I could do not to crumple in horror. Being paired with a junior executive. Becoming a personal assistant on the executive level. All of that meant high profile, all eyes on me, noticing me. I would have to go to the firm’s functions, be available for negotiations and relocation meetings with high numbers.
“Miss Hope?”
I swallowed hard as I met Sharon’s steady gaze. Her eyes sharpened as they swept over my face. I could only pray that I didn’t look as shaken as I truly felt. “Sharon, I am . . . this was completely unexpected. I just . . . I don’t know what to say. May I, umm, may I have a few weeks to think about it?”
“Weeks?” she repeated in a tone that left no room to imagine that she wasn’t particularly pleased with my answer.
A nod was all I could manage as my mind whirled searching for words. I took a deep breath and then s
aid softly, “I don’t like to make rash decisions, ma’am. And given the fact that accepting this job would mean a drastic change to my career path, I feel it would be best if I took as much time as possible to weigh my options and determine whether this would be the best move for me personally.”
The tightness in Sharon’s jaw eased and a new gleam entered her dark eyes. She looked me over once more and then nodded. “Very well, Miss Hope. You may take time to consider. Just be careful that you don’t take too much time.”
“Yes, ma’am. Thank you, ma’am.”
The elevator stopped on the fourth floor and Sharon nodded to me. “I’m going to collect information on the expected duties from HR and send them to your work email. So you may make a fully informed decision.”
“Yes. Thank you, ma’am.”
I watched Sharon march across the fourth floor lobby and vanish through the doors. Thank God no one else tried to share the elevator before the doors finally closed, and I numbly pressed the button for parking. Then, I leaned back against the wall and buried my head in my hands as I groaned. How could this be happening?
The last thing I needed was to be promoted, especially to a high profile position within the firm. It was too high profile. Everyone on the executive level was part of the public face of Halliman’s. It would only grow worse if I were truly moved from receptionist to personal assistant to a junior executive. Mr. Halliman’s rules for the company meant he took a personal interest in his employees. He also invested even more time and effort into those being groomed to interact with the most powerful clients and entities among the paranormal community. Especially at Christmas when the traditions of Yule and the Winter Solstice brought together the high courts of the Seelie and the Unseelie bound by ancient rules. Everyone who was anyone among the paranormal community attended not only the grand event at Yellowstone, but also the smaller scale celebrations held on the East and West Coasts. Halliman’s was always involved in those gatherings. The entire executive team would attend the grand gathering at Yellowstone. It was something I had intended to avoid by being back in my proper place on the fourth floor. But now . . .
I couldn’t think of a more disastrous scenario for me keeping my nature secret. It was still early in October, but the risk of being told to accompany the execs to Yellowstone already loomed over my head like Damocles’ sword. I let out a shuddering breath as I rubbed my forehead, feeling a headache coming on, and for some reason wished I could talk to Mathias about things. Not that talking to him would make any difference. I already knew what I had to do for both my sake and the firm’s.
Now I just had to figure out how to do so without losing my job entirely. The fact that both Sharon and Mr. Halliman had been involved in discussing whether to offer me the position was terrifying. The last couple times I passed up a promotion it was a simple thing of not applying for the new position, while encouraging one of the other secretaries to go for it. I had never been personally approached about taking a new position. And, Sharon was a formidable woman in her own right. Somehow the idea of her reaction to my refusal of the position after she personally nominated me didn’t strike me as one filled with warm fuzzies. Not to mention the fact that Sharon was part banshee and offending a banshee, even one whose blood had been mingled with less powerful Fae, was always a horrible idea.
By the time the elevator doors opened and I walked into the parking garage, I was no closer to coming up with a wise way to turn down the position without offending Sharon. I had to think of something, though. I pulled my car keys out as I walked deeper into the garage. I had been a little late this morning and had been forced to park deeper in as well as down a level from normal. But, it gave me more time to wrestle with my current problem.
I couldn’t turn down the job until after Sharon sent the information. That much was plain. One thing I was starting to pray for was that there would be something in the details that I could reasonably object to aside from the heightened visibility. Because if I mentioned that as my reason, I would have to explain that it was due to my species. Being a Spotter was dangerous enough without placing myself in a high profile position where my chances of encountering high numbers were exponentially increased. There were times I had difficulty not exposing myself in my current position and the matter with Mathias quite probably meant I hadn’t done as good a job as I needed to, so going higher in the firm was foolish at best and suicidal at worst.
I had almost reached my car when I heard a noise behind me. I tensed then almost immediately relaxed. It was probably Mathias. I started to turn, a greeting on the tip of my tongue, when I felt a hand grasping the back of my jacket. A yelp escaped me as I was yanked backward and then shoved forward hard enough that I stumbled before falling to my hands and knees.
Drawing breath to scream for help, I caught a glimpse of movement out of the corner of my eye as a shadowy figure darted forward. Hands locked around my throat, jerking me to my feet. I kicked but I couldn’t reach anything. The pressure on my throat tightened. I brought my keys down on the fleshy web between thumb and forefinger earning a muffled curse and a slight loosening of the pressure.
Taking advantage of his loosened grasp, I slung my purse at the man’s head and kicked him in the shins before yanking free of his wavering hold. I tried to scream, but still couldn’t draw enough breath past my aching throat. Instead, I ran. Keeping a tight grip on my keys, I raced for my car. It was closer than trying to get back to the elevator.
The sound of running steps echoed behind me, and I let out a strangled whisper of a shout when the man grabbed me again. I kicked out, but he didn’t let go this time. One hand was around my throat and the other buried in my hair as he yanked my head back. I saw the flickering lights hanging from the ceiling and then I looked into the face of my attacker. Bronze skin, strong hooked nose, and an expression of sheer glee. Glee that changed to anger when I tried to gouge his eyes with my keys. He swore, calling on the vengeance of Eris, and then he threw me.
I slammed into hard unmoving metal. The world went dark for just a moment and then the hot fires of pain pulled me back to consciousness. I was lying next to a wheel, my keys and purse on the ground next to me. I could feel cold rough cement beneath my cheek. One of my shoes was missing. I could feel the cement beneath my leg and bare foot.
Every breath was agony and my back burned. He might have broken a few things. I coughed, dragging in desperate breaths, as I tried to move in spite of the pain. My keys. I needed my keys. I reached for them ignoring the pain the movement produced in my arm, shoulder, and back.
A shoe landed on my wrist pressing down with cruel intent. A weak cry escaped me as my attacker ground my wrist into the cement. I couldn’t pull free. A low sob escaped me as I struggled to get away, but he only put more weight on my wrist.
He laughed as I shoved at his shoe trying to force him to get off. To no avail. I looked up at my attacker and this time I noticed his number. A 7 blazed with golden flames.
“Get off me,” I hissed.
He suddenly lifted his foot and then he drew it back. I realized his intent and scrambled to shield my face. His shoe connected with my ribs and knocked me back. Then, he grabbed me by the same wrist he had been standing on and dragged me to my feet.
Ignoring the pain, I swung my free hand at him and scored his cheek with my nails. I struck again reaching up to get at his eyes. He cursed again and then muttered under his breath in Greek. He slapped me across the face, knocking my head to the side and making my ears ring, then he wrenched my hand behind me and slammed me facedown against the trunk of the car, my car. My lungs constricted and black spots filled my vision, but I finally managed to get a scream out.
My scream was cut short when he yanked me up and then slammed me down again knocking the breath out of my lungs. The pressure against my wrist and shoulder brought tears to my eyes, but I still squirmed. I kicked at him connecting with his pant leg with my bare foot. He put more pressure on my wrist, twisting to the point that
I couldn’t breathe from the pain.
He was so close that I could feel him patting at his pockets. The thought of being assaulted mere yards from work made me kick back again. But, he still didn’t let go. He yanked at my coat, and then I heard fabric ripping and felt the brush of steel against my neck. My coat gave as he cut, and I thrashed harder. I lifted my foot still in a heel and drove it point first into his calf. He cursed again and for a moment his weight eased enough that I was able to get my free arm up. I elbowed him, but couldn’t get free of his grip.
He slammed me down on the trunk again. I felt him pulling the remains of my coat down exposing my left shoulder and most of that arm. When I struggled, he pressed the side of my face against the trunk. I could see he gripped a syringe in his teeth as he used his weight to pin me down. He jerked the cap from the needle with his teeth and lowered the needle to my shoulder.
Just as the needle brushed my skin, the man was jerked away. I gasped in air as the pressure was removed and slid to the ground. Pain still hazed my vision, but it didn’t stop me from seeing Mathias as he struck my attacker in the jaw and then the gut with lightning fast reflexes. The 7 cursed Mathias and growled, “Get out of my way.”
My blood turned cold as Mathias replied in a voice so devoid of warmth that it froze me in place, “Touch her again and you will die.”
It wasn’t a threat. It was a statement. And, I believed him. The attacker, on the other hand, didn’t seem convinced. He lunged forward, and I screamed as he knocked Mathias off his feet. Mathias landed next to me and dropped into a crouch. He reached back to grasp my hand, his grip firm yet gentle. “Hide.”
A single word and then he leapt forward knocking into the attacker. The man staggered back wiping away blood from a cut above his eye. But, he still didn’t stop. Instead, he drew a knife. He swiped at Mathias only for his arm to be caught in Mathias’ grip. They grappled, turning in a circle, and I could see Mathias’ face. It was eerily calm with a cold light shining in his eyes. He punched the man in the face, and I heard the crunch of bone as his nose broke. Then Mathias broke his arm, forcing the knife to fall to the cement, before he struck him once more. The man collapsed like someone had cut the strings on a marionette.
Rogue Spotter Collection Page 9