Spark Rising (32 page)

She nodded, obviously not surprised. She flipped the pages of the book, but seemed distracted.

Alex waited.

She opened her mouth to speak, and then closed it.

“What? Lena, speak up. I need to be confident we have everything dealt with before I leave you alone.”

“I would like to see Danny, if it’s possible?”

Her brother. Alex’s heart fell. He’d been afraid she’d ask for him. “It’s not,” he told her. “In fact, it would be a very bad idea.”

She looked up at him, eyes enormous and ridiculously green, and she shook her head imploringly.

He made himself go on. “He’s not interested in seeing you.” He wanted to be as gentle as possible, but he needed to be thorough.

“Danny was always supportive. He put himself at risk just to be sure I—”

“I know. But after everything happened, he was under a lot of pressure. He was investigated, and then he had your sister to cope with and your mother’s funeral.” Alex sighed. The sister alone would turn anyone sour. He rubbed his mouth. “I’ve been working up in Council Central,” he said, referring to the upper floors where Council business was conducted in a warren of offices by cutthroat aides. “Danny was a rising star. His rise is on hold, and he’s pissed. He’s blaming you. I don’t know how much of that is trying to salvage his career or his life, but I can’t risk you seeing him. A betrayal now would be catastrophic on a number of levels.”

“He would never turn me in.” At Alex’s questioning look, she insisted, “He wouldn’t betray me!”

“I’m not so sure.”

Lena looked at the floor. She picked at one fingernail, shoving her thumbnail into the edge of it over and over until the tip tore away. She made a soft sound and brought the finger to her mouth, sucking the blood away. Her lowered lids and lashes hid her wounded eyes.

It was clear that she wanted to pretend the tears in them were from the nail she’d torn past the quick, but Alex wasn’t fooled. He took a minute to berate himself for feeling sick he’d been the one to hurt her. He couldn’t afford to care. But he did.

He slid his hand along the counter and stepped closer, taking her hand away from her mouth. He looked down at her finger. Blood welled up from the torn nail. He curled his hand around the finger and took a deep breath, focusing his intent.

Nothing happened. The Dust didn’t even swirl in acknowledgment. Alex huffed a nervous laugh and tried again.

“Dust. This should be easy, but I suck at healing. I’m sorry.”

At least he’d made her smile.

“It’s okay. I’ve got it.” The bleeding slowed, and her torn skin grew back together. “See? All better.”

“Not quite.” He drew her hand up to his own mouth and settled his lips on her fingertip, pressing a kiss onto the new skin. He held the kiss for a long moment. Her pupils dilated, and her lips parted, drawing him down deeper.

Let her hand go. Back away. Right now.

Behind him, Jackson exited the bathroom and entered the living space. Alex lifted his head, glancing back at Jackson standing awkwardly behind them, keeping his focus everywhere but on them. Alex returned her hand to her, but waited a long beat before he stepped back.

She sighed, glanced at Jackson, and then refocused on Alex. “So,” she said, her voice almost normal, “do you guys have time to practice dropping that shield you have before you leave? I want to know if I’m right about the Dust. Again.”

Chapter 27

“She wants to see Danny.” Alex scrubbed his hands over his face as he brought up the last issue he had to discuss with Thomas tonight before he could head back to Azcon on the train. Just thinking of her face, her vulnerability when she’d asked for her brother, made something inside him tighten. It had been eating at him since the night before.

That wasn’t true. The deception had been eating at him for months.

“She can’t. It’s too dangerous at this point. It’s not possible.”

“I know. That’s what I told her. But with everything she’s been through… He’s essentially the last of her family. I think she needs it.”

“And if he slips? If he tells her what’s really going on? You know how volatile she is. At best, she’d walk away. At worst? She guilts Danny into going with her, and everything we’ve built that hinges on him falls apart. She goes to Ace and shares with him then
he
somehow shows our hand to the wrong people—”

“I told you months ago we should groom him, bring him on board—”

“I won’t trust anyone associated with Dragonfly House. Ever.” Thomas reached up to run his index finger over the smooth, scarred skin under his eye where the slaver’s brand had burned Thomas’s face as a child.

It was an unconscious movement. Thomas had been doing it since they were boys, and always at the mention of anything to do with his childhood captivity. Alex should have called him on his dislike of Ace at the beginning. A current-day entry-level trade house dealer had nothing to do with the decisions and backroom deals of the trade house thirty-odd years ago. Ace shouldn’t pay for what had been done to Thomas before Lena’s friend was even born. And Lena shouldn’t pay by extension.

But the emotional investment in decades of hatred made Thomas intractable. Perhaps if Alex appealed to his friend’s emotions, he could win a small victory for Lena—a private meet-up with her brother?

“You haven’t spent as much time with her as I have.” Alex had to tread carefully. Thomas hated it when he thought Alex was trying to finesse him. “She’s hurting. This would help.”

Thomas shook his head and tapped a finger on the desk in front of him. “There’s more at stake here than her pain and you know it. So you’re going to have to put your dalliance behind you—”

Alex narrowed his eyes and met Thomas’s hard gaze with one of his own.

“—until it’s time for us to use it, and
focus
.”

“There’s nothing wrong with my focus. And we’re not using what happened between me and Lena. Period.”

Thomas arched a brow and smiled, though the expression seemed on the sad side to Alex. Perhaps his friend wasn’t as comfortable with his own decisions as he seemed.

“Unless she turns up pregnant.”

Alex shook his head. “That’s not a possibility.”

“Alex. It’s always a—”

“Not with Lena. She’s got her reproductive system on lockdown.” At Thomas’s expression, Alex laughed. “I don’t know why either of us would be remotely surprised. She’s not one to be pushed around by fate or circumstances. Of course she’s using her abilities to maintain her own health, with everything that implies.”

“Well, that’s damned inconvenient.”

“Inconvenient? It’s her life.”

“It’s our future. I was never going to force anyone on her, Alex, but we need this. We need the children she could produce. We need her—”

“Happy. We need her happy, Thom. And she’s damn well earned it.”

Thomas leaned forward and steepled his hands in front of him. He met Alex’s gaze and took a careful breath. “She is happy. Happier than she has been. You could convince her—”

“No. That’s not going to happen. Leave it be.”

Thomas shook his head. “This isn’t about feelings.”

“I said leave it. It’s not negotiable. I’ll deal with Danny, and all the repercussions that will bring when she finds out. I’ll take all of that. But you will let this go, Thom.” Alex willed his friend to feel how deadly serious he was about this. He wouldn’t have her, have any of them, used like that. Not ever. “Not just for Lena. For all of them. Whatever will happen with the future, with children…leave it be. Let it happen naturally. Or we’re no better than the Council, and we have no right to keep going.”

Thomas tilted his head back and looked up at the ceiling. When he turned back to Alex, it was clear he’d made a decision. “Fine. But she stays in the dark. And so does Danny. Until it’s a done deal, mission accomplished, risk averted, and you’re all heading home, neither of them will know the other’s role.”

Alex nodded. It wasn’t the answer he’d hoped for. It wasn’t what she needed. But it bought her a larger freedom. He hoped it would be enough.

# # #

Alex’s hand paused above the lock plate. He shouldn’t be here. He didn’t know why he’d told Jackson that morning that he would conduct Lena’s daily check-in himself. Yes, he had to share the chef’s critique of her progress with her, but he’d already written his comments and planned to hand them off to Jackson to take to her.

He had no reason to be hovering outside the safe house door, except for the itch that had been keeping him up, distracting him every day, pricking at his awareness. He’d planned to stay away. It wasn’t only logistically smart, but it was emotionally best, too, especially after his deal with Thomas. He didn’t want to deal with the soft, wounded sound of her voice if she asked for her brother again.

He’d managed to hold out four days before he mentally slapped himself for being so obtuse. You didn’t get rid of an itch by ignoring it. There was only one way to settle it down.

You scratched it, good and hard.

He keyed the lock and went in. Even here in the foyer, the layered spicy and savory aromas of what was cooking made his mouth water. And the chef claimed she couldn’t cook?

When he turned around, Lena was framed in the light from the sunny living room, eyes wide.

“Alex? What are you doing here? Is everything okay?”

Her feet were bare, and she had on a summer dress for relief against the heat in the little house. The dress billowed light as a breeze around her small body, two thin straps all that held it on her shoulders. A riot of blues and greens swirled together across it. Flour dusted her chin and nose, and coated both hands, and her face was puzzled.

The night he’d left her here, he’d told her she wouldn’t see him again until they were on the caravan and it was her time to take out the Councilor.

He came down the hall. The pressure inside eased at the sight of her, even as his heart rate increased. This was a bad idea. He smiled anyway. “Chef Domenico had some issues with his latest evaluation of your skills. I thought I should come over and talk them out with you.”

Her eyes narrowed. “Chef Domenico is a pompous ass.” She turned and went back into the kitchen.

Alex laughed as he followed her in. “He is. But he’s also your cover, so we need to work smart. We need to keep him happy.”

“Uh huh,” she responded. “Work smart. Got it. I guess you came to tell me how to do that?” She leaned against the kitchen counter between them, waiting for him to answer her.

“Where did you get that dress?” he asked instead. The colors did amazing things to her eyes.

Where’d you get that dress?
His inner voice howled with laughter.

He cleared his throat, a stern warning as he settled into one of the kitchen chairs across the counter from her, and added, “You didn’t leave the house, did you?”

“Of course I didn’t.” She paused and tilted her head. “Jackson brought it for me.”

“Did he?” Alex worked hard for that neutral tone.

She shrugged, looking down now to fiddle with dough in a bowl to the side of her. “I think it was kind of an apology. I’d been complaining how hot it was in here with the oven going all day—it is summer. He said it looked cool.” She twisted a smile and peeked up at Alex through her lashes. “He said the color reminded him of my eyes, if you must know.”

Alex gritted his teeth.
Oh, hello, Jealousy, you bastard. Get the hell out of my head.
She was manipulating him. He knew it. It didn’t mean it wasn’t effective.

He leaned back in the chair, crossing his arms.

She seemed put out when she didn’t get any other reaction from him. She raised her brows. “Were you going to impart any ‘work smarter’ wisdom? Or was the stare supposed to cow me into behaving?”

“Pay attention. Don’t be careless. If chef says presentation matters…then
present
the food on the plate. C’mon, you know this makes a difference.”

She lowered her gaze again, and nodded. “Got it. Guess I can get back to work then.” When Alex didn’t move she looked back at him. This time, she only raised one brow. “Was there something else I screwed up? Or did you want a sample of my shitty cooking? Because the chicken won’t be done baking for another fifteen minutes.”

She turned away, dismissing him and busying herself at the side counter, fingers pulling off bits of dough, rolling them into small logs between her palms, and then shaping them into crescents on the wide, flat pan in front of her. Her posture told him that not only had she been bored, but now she was pissed, too.

Fifteen minutes, huh?

It was probably best that her back was turned so she didn’t see the wide, predatory grin he felt spreading across his face.

He rose and padded into the kitchen to ease up to her. Her body stiffened when she felt him close in behind her. He pressed his palms to the counter on either side of her working space and lowered his mouth to her ear.

“Fifteen minutes sounds perfect,” he growled into her ear. “I think that’s what you asked for when you were stressed out and in need of distraction, wasn’t it? Fifteen minutes? Well, now it’s my turn.”

He closed his mouth around her earlobe, his lips gentle while the tip of his tongue ran along the soft curve of flesh, leaving a trail of popping sparks behind.

She shivered but pulled her head away and turned her face to him, angled down so she didn’t have to meet his eyes.

“You’re the one who said I had to work smarter to make the chef happy. Well, I’m working…” As if to prove her point, she showed him the curved crescent in her hand before settling it onto the pan.

The sugary, nutty scent of the dough rose up and swirled in his nostrils, mixing with the heady, heated fragrance of Lena herself. The scent cued the memory of her taste, and his blood pounded lower.

Dust, I need this.

He dipped his head down to press his lips to the curve where her neck joined her shoulder. When he ran his teeth along her skin, she shuddered in response.

“Stop it.” Her voice was husky in his ears. “You’re distracting me. This is hard.”

A low chuckle bubbled up and hummed against his lips on her skin. “That’s not the only thing that’s hard.” He pressed closer, rubbing himself against her back. “And I promise, I’ve been far more distracted by you than you know.”

She leaned away. He could hear her swallow and then suck in a breath. She shook her head. “You said this was a bad idea. You said you didn’t want—”

“I know what I said, dammit. But I can’t stop thinking about you.” He moved his arms in, wrapping them around her and tucking her in against his body. Her small back curved against his front, and the Dust started swirling, moving in where they were in contact. His voice dropped to a hoarse whisper.

“I can’t stop thinking about you,” he repeated, and kissed the spot low on her neck that had made her shudder for him, his tongue flicking out to taste her skin.

“About kissing you.” He feathered light kisses across her shoulder and the back of her neck.

“Holding you,” he murmured against the curve of her neck on the other side. His left hand slid up and across her to tug the thin strap of material off her shoulder. He moved his face down to the edge of her shoulder and licked little sparking explosions back up toward her neck again. He finished at her right ear.

“I can’t stop thinking about how amazing it was,” he whispered in her ear, “to slide inside you. Do you remember?”

She had the tightest, sweetest little—

Her head tipped back, opening her neck to give him access to the sensitive skin.

He pounced, licking and kissing, drawing up the Dust then releasing it. Her breath came in little pants now, and the sound of it made him crazy. He pulled her tighter against him, lifting her onto her toes so that he could feel the curve of her round ass.

She gulped air. “Fifteen minutes, huh?”

He reached one arm up, supporting her weight easily with the other as he tilted her face toward him. “Fifteen,” he answered, voice just as breathless. “Say ‘yes.’”

“Yes.”

He captured her mouth with his, not gentle and not caring. She matched him heat for heat, pressure for pressure, electric and hard. His hand slid down, drawing down the other strap until both breasts were bare. He palmed one, using his thumb to play with her nipple until it pebbled before moving to the other. He toyed with them, loving how her body responded to his touch, before dipping his hand lower.