38. Nat

38

Nat

after the truth is out

Emil reminds me of a lab rat with glossy white fur and red eyes, lauded for cleverness in getting through the maze to the cheese.

Take it out of its gilded cage, and it’s just a rat. Content to live in sewers and eat garbage. Despised for its ability to survive in heinous conditions.

He’s built himself quite the cage.

We’re downtown and this building from the ground level to our spot on the fifteenth floor is pure opulence. At its most wasteful. It’s a former Fannie Mae or Chase or Fidelity, some other bank with too many rooms.

He’s redesigned it. The lobby is near grotesque. Ornate tapestries depicting the triumphs of Zeus, marble columns, twenty-foot ceilings.

Lesenia’s one dry comment as she led us and her two armed guards inside continues to jab at me. “Old money,” she had noted, tone brimming with disdain as we crossed the threshold.

She made other comments in the elevator, covering everything from Sin’s hair to my clothes, the lack of a greeting, even the ugly views of the parking garage next door until the soft ding announced our arrival.

I fixate on the phrase. Old money .

Immortals have a poor understanding of time. For her to mention it … Old money means blood money. Money from the Gods.

Introductions do not involve me, though Emil tries shaking my hand.

Sin cuts it off before I pulverize the male’s fingers.

His light eyes narrow, but he accepts the block jovially, movements jittery and anxious, wiping a palm over his breast pocket.

The apartment is a dizzying display of wealth—priceless art, plush furnishings, and gleaming stone accents. Beneath the veneer of luxury, there’s a palpable sense of desperation, of a male clinging to power with greedy, grasping fingers.

We settle in the sitting room, Emil nervously perched on the arm of a chair that probably cost more than my apartment. Sin folds himself onto a cream couch, Lesenia scrunching right beside him, skirts splayed down his leg, a manicured finger gliding over his knee.

“Since we’re all friends.” She draws a look to Emil, fingers poised on her raised hand. “You don’t mind, do you?”

Emil’s smile is there and gone. “By all means.”

“Gentlemen?”

One flighty gesture and Lesenia’s thugs seize my arms, a baton connecting harshly with the back of my legs and I collapse knees first into the stone floor.

For the first time today, Sin looks at me, a flare of concern in those purple, fathomless eyes before he schools his features into a mask of indifference.

He’s beautiful.

Clothes pressed clean, blue dress shirt and wide leg trousers, Chelsea boots. Ring adorned fingers relaxed over the couch’s back. Seemingly relaxed. But I spot the tension in his shoulders, the grind of his teeth.

Anger and humiliation burn through my veins as I compel myself to go limp in the guards’ grip, let their fingers dig into my flesh.

“Are the theatrics really necessary, dear?” Sin drawls, deceptively calm. “She’s not fighting.”

Lesenia’s laughter rings out, sharp and mocking. “Oh, I quite noticed how well you’ve worn her down. You have such a knack for that.”

I showcase a throat ripping smile, straining against the hands that hold me captive. The baton strikes again, pain exploding across my shoulders.

Through the haze, I see Emil shift uncomfortably, his gaze darting between Lesenia and Sin. His aura clings to him in shreds of black streaks smudged up and down his thin form. “Now, now, let’s not get carried away,” he simpers, his speech trembling ever so slightly. “We’re all civilized beings here, are we not?”

Lesenia’s eye twitches, but her voice stays saccharine sweet. “Who knows what she is.“ A small chuckle. “I’d feel safer if she were bound before business began.”

Sin’s gaze lies straight ahead as I’m forced into a lone folding chair, wrists pinned and cuffed behind my back.

Emil clears his throat, a nervous tick. “Shall I show you where your security can wait?” he asks Lesenia. “My business is quite private.”

Lesenia agrees, and hands twisting at his sides, Emil escorts the them all out, mumbling about bathrooms and comfort, leaving me and Sin alone.

The silence creeps into the room with us like a monster, prowling around, forcing our eyes anywhere but each other.

Finally, Sin says, “I laid a dress out.”

“Then what? You fell into those pants?”

“A dress for you .”

I snap free of the cuffs.

The sound of the jangling cheap metal prompts Sin to flinch. He turns to me, eyes weary. “Get it out now, darling. Stab where it isn’t obvious. Nothing on the face.”

I rise from the chair, rubbing my wrists. Last night I would’ve been ecstatic for the opportunity to hurt him the way he hurt me.

The urge has passed.

Mostly .

We split apart in silence to pillage the penthouse, searching for information, scanning his computer.

“He keeps his Diakonos here,” Sin says, pushing through papers on a desk. “I felt them when we walked in. A surge of different emotions. Fear, resentment, loneliness.”

My stomach tightens with worry instead of anticipation. “Every door has a keypad. And he has security on each floor.” I try to recall other things from our walk in. The metal bars on the windows, typical of a bank.

“They must be the vaults,” Sin says. “It’d be the only thing that could contain a Phoenix. Break proof, fireproof. Means additional security.” He braces hands on his hips. “Shit.”

“We stick to the plan, then,” I remind him, cutting through the living room and finding nothing. “Flash the cash. Say you won’t pay until you have eyes on her. Convince Lesenia to join you, she’ll drag me along and we’ll overpower them when we have Theia in hand.”

As if he can’t bear to pass time with me, Sin checks his watch, plastic blue band, shiny high tech screen. Ridiculous. “Lesenia’s a wild card. We should leave her.”

“We’re a package deal now. Only way I go is with her. Can you handle that?”

“I could rent you back from her for the afternoon.”

“I’m not her money maker. I’m her toy.”

Sin’s gaze bores into mine, fierce and unyielding. “You’re not. You’re not anyone’s property. Not hers. Not mine.”

Something tightens inside me at the raw command.

I want to cling to the conviction in his voice, but doubt coils in my gut.

“Pretty words,” I mutter, looking away. “But that’s all they are.”

Do not trust the guard.

Let go.

He’ll betray you.

Sin inches forward, presence enveloping me, clove and heat. “Nat,” he says softly.

I hate it. “What happened last night?”

He halts. Looks away from me. “We fucked. It was nice.”

“Nice,” I echo, nodding, hating, bitter as wormwood. “I suppose I liked the part where you begged me to have you. The sociopathic rambling I could’ve lived without.”

“That’s not all you have.”

The gentle murmur licks my ear.

“What?”

He’s found his feet again, looming over me, black aura undulating over his skin. “What else wasn’t up to your standard?”

“You mean like the fact that you came before you even got your shoes off?”

“Yes.”

“And you sweat all over me.”

“Keep going.”

“And you left marks of your hands on my hips.”

His throat bobs. “What else?”

“Your stupid fucking hair. I can’t pull it at all. And it makes you look …”

“Don’t cut me slack now.”

“Like a child playing dress-up,” I spit out, voice soaked with venom. “Trying so hard to be the hero you’re not. But underneath it all, you’re just a damaged little boy desperate for love and validation.”

Sin’s irises darken, the purple swirling with barely contained rage. He leans in close, his breath hot against my cheek. “ More .”

I shove him away. “I …” The bridge of my nose burns. I look at the wall. Lose my fight. “I liked you. I wanted you. Last night, I felt—”

He catches my wrist, his hold like iron. “I’m not interested in your emotions.”

I lift my gaze to his, heart collapsing. “Then what are you interested in, Blackguard?”

Sin’s palm shoots out to grab my throat, his thumb pressing against my pulse. “The only reason I held a passing interest for you was because you weren’t supposed to feel. The one redeeming Fury quality, but you botched that too, didn’t you? A traitor to your own kind.”

The words sound like they’re tortured from him, breaking and dripping from his lips.

Rage like I’ve never known surges through me, claggy and spiked. I could break his hold with a thought. Shatter every bone in his body. But I don’t.

Because he’s right.

I am a traitor.

And it makes sense, doesn’t it?

The male terrified of love stringing along a Fury because she’s incapable of such a feeling.

Guilt nestles into my bones, shame and self-loathing carving spots for themselves.

Tears brim. The whisper escapes without warning, startling us both. “You’re right.”

He can’t release me fast enough. Retreating with a ragged exhale, beautiful features fracturing with … disgust, pity?

I can’t look.

The door opens. Sin curses, filthy and quick, pushing me into my chair, and slamming down into his own as Lesenia saunters back in, Emil trailing behind her like a lost puppy.

I force my wrists together behind me. Keep my head down.

“Manhattan?” Emil asks, sensing nothing amiss as he scurries from Lesenia’s side to the wet bar.

“Two,” Lesenia answers for both her and Sin. She strokes a hand over Sin’s short hair. “Emil’s bartending is legendary,” she tells him, tapping under his chin until purple eyes lock onto hers.

I feel sick.

“You can visit her, if you’d like,” Lesenia whispers. “We could use her together. It could be fun.”

“Two,” Emil recites, setting pretty drinks in their hands and taking his seat. “I guess we should discuss business, then?”

“Business.” Lesenia’s gaze glitters with malice as she settles into the seat beside Sin, hand lingering possessively on his thigh. “And then pleasure, as they say.”

Sin’s jaw clenches at her touch, but he maintains his composure, offering her a tight smile. “I’ve brought bearer bonds, but I’m happy to deal in drachma or a wire transfer.”

“Any will work.” Emil hurries, his own drink shaking in his grip, ice knocking. “Enough orange?” he asks. “I never know.”

Lesenia takes a purposeful drink, and coos, “Perfect, Emil.”

I snort.

It’s so … fake. It’s revolting. Everything in this room. Gilded for three black souls.

Lesenia must be part Boread because I feel a rush of air before she’s in front of me, hand cracking across my cheek. The blunt sting of her ring split skin. Sweet thick ichor floods my mouth.

“Lesenia.” Sin’s voice is low, chastising.

“She’s mine now, dear,” she reminds him. “You think you could move on? Could dangle her within my reach without repercussions? Cheating on me. Again.” She sinks nails into my jaw. “He loves me,” she hisses. “He asked me to marry him. He gave me everything. You’re just a whore. He used you to get us back together.”

“ Lesenia .” It is not Sin’s honey smooth voice. It’s Emil’s. Suddenly even. Nearly stern. “I do not condone creature violence.”

Sin is silent. Utterly still. His expression is blank. I’m not his problem anymore. He doesn’t need to defend me.

Lesenia rips a hand through my hair. “She’s hardly a creature. Look at her.” She glances over her shoulder at Sin with a mocking gleam. “We had bets on if you actually touched her. If you could stomach it.”

She sniffs at me and scrunches her nose at the damning evidence. “Look how far you’ve fallen without my guidance.”

I grunt as she pulls at my roots, potent fury boiling inside me.

Sin’s eyes jump to mine for the briefest moment, something akin to regret shadowing his features before the mask slides back into place.

Gritting my teeth, I battle to remain still, enduring her cruelty with gritted teeth and a spine of steel. I will not give her the satisfaction of seeing me crumble.

Not now, not ever.

“Lesenia,” comes Emil’s voice again. “Please. Really, have a drink and calm—”

She interrupts him with a cough, spittle flying into my face. Her eyeballs bulge. She staggers backward, heaving, holding her throat.

Choking.

Dark veins bleed over her face like black, poisonous lightning.

Alarmed, Sin lurches to his feet, just as Lesenia collapses, gasping out for air.

Emil is frozen, his drink tumbling from numb fingers. It shatters on the floor.

It takes less than a minute. The poison takes her swiftly.

I glance at Sin and his knees lock. His body hits the floor, face first.

My heart stops.

“Well,” Emil says in the silence, a smile spreading on thin lips. “They were extremely rude.”