Chapter 26

26

M ikhail knocked on his own door, feeling nervous. What if Jinx didn’t want to accompany him? She’d been polite since the kiss, but the ease they had established previously had vanished.

Most of that was on him, he acknowledged. Because all he could think about was tossing her to the ground and burying himself in her body. “Get a grip,” he told himself as the door swung open.

Instead of greeting her, he stood staring as the air between them crackled with energy. Sexual energy, his mind obnoxiously supplied. He could feel the heat radiating from her body, even though they weren't touching. Their eyes met and locked, Jinx’s pupils dilating. Mikhail’s heart raced, his breath coming quicker. He moistened his lips unconsciously, noticing how Jinx’s gaze shifted to follow the movement. An ache of longing and lust bloomed low in his belly. His fingers itched with the urge to reach out and touch, to trail along the curve of her jaw and tangle in her soft hair.

There was no denying his feelings for Jinx were growing stronger with each passing day, and he wondered how much longer he was going to be able to hold back. It had been so long since he’d felt this level of desire for someone. And he could quite honestly say that he’d never felt this level of like for someone before. He’d had his fair share of lovers in the past but was always careful to keep his emotions in check. It had been a simple task before Jinx.

“Mikhail,” Jinx broke the awkward silence. “Am I about to be inundated by the crew?” She peered around the doorframe, waving to Marius and Shiloh on guard duty. “You can assure them I’m still breathing.”

“Ha. Funny,” was his lame reply. Marius coughed, and Shiloh snickered. Mikhail shot them a dirty look before refocusing on Jinx. “The horde isn’t descending. They’ve split up for a job. I was hoping you might be willing to help me with my part of it?”

Jinx looked surprised before relief chased the expression away. “Really? Oh, thank goodness. After last night, I was worried you’d sideline me.”

Mikhail frowned. “It’s not my place to tell you what you can and can’t do. Besides, why would I sideline one of our greatest assets?”

Jinx shook her head, mumbling, “Damnit, Mikhail. I’m going to need you to stop being so wonderful.”

He felt like he’d just been crowned King all over again. Standing tall, he said, “You think I’m wonderful?”

Jinx met his eyes steadily. “Yeah. I do.” She cleared her throat before he could comment further and asked briskly, “What do you need help with?”

“Going through Zagan’s quarters. Sabre thought he might have hidden information there.” He matched her tone, not wanting to appear emotional over the mission.

Jinx touched his forearm briefly. “Of course. Do you want to go now?”

He nodded, stepping back when Jinx immediately crossed the threshold and closed the door. “Which way?”

“This way,” he said gratefully.

Marius and Shiloh trailed behind them at a distance as they made their way down two corridors. Z’s rooms weren’t far from his own. Mikhail used a key to unlock the door and hoped Jinx didn’t see the way his hand trembled when he released the knob.

When he didn’t move or speak, Jinx cleared her throat. “Should we split up and search this place from top to bottom?” she offered quietly. “We’ll be quicker that way.”

Mikhail looked down at Jinx, blinking twice before he nodded. “Yes. Of course. That makes the most sense.” Then he strode through the door.

Dust motes danced in the pale sunlight filtering through the windows as he looked around Z's abandoned living space. Dark marble floors gleamed beneath rugs worth more than most cars. A massive, black, L-shaped leather sectional, its soft surface well-worn, faced a wall dominated by a massive flatscreen. It was flanked by built-in shelves showcasing first-edition novels, sculptures, and weapons.

Crystal decanters filled with amber liquors adorned the bar area next to the gas fireplace, which had an intricately carved mantle. Above it hung an original artwork of their mother’s, its vibrant chaos a stark contrast to the room's otherwise meticulous order. Painting had been their mother’s only hobby. Although she wasn’t the best artist in the realm, her paintings still sold for thousands of dollars because she had been Queen. Mikhail still had many of her works in his private quarters and wondered if he was going to have to set them on fire now, given what he was discovering about her.

Forgetting his task for a moment, he moved as if in a trance, fingers trailing over familiar objects—a worn leather baseball mitt, a collection of rare coins, a battered copy of ‘ The Illustrated Atlas of Mythical Beasts’. The book had been Z's favourite as a boy. Now it sat wedged between ominous grimoires with titles like ‘Necromancy for the Modern Age’ and ‘101 Uses for Dragon's Blood’.

His chest tightened as memories flooded back—teaching his little brother to whistle, hunting for treasure in the forbidden forest, and reading adventure stories by flashlight long past bedtime. The memories were real and filled with warmth. Yet, here he was, searching for the list of people Z wanted dead.

“Make it make sense,” he pleaded hollowly.

“What’s that?” Jinx responded, looking over from where she was going through the kitchen cabinets.

“Nothing,” Mikhail muttered, glancing away. He didn't want her to see the conflict in his eyes, the guilt gnawing at his conscience like a relentless parasite.

Jinx paused, a can of soup in one hand, and studied him with a piercing gaze. “You can talk to me about anything,” she said, her tone softening in a way that made his heart ache.

“I appreciate that.” He made an effort to pick things up and move them around, opening drawers before moving into the bedroom. After thirty minutes, he concluded there was nothing to find. “No luck?” he asked Jinx, re-entering the living room.

“Nothing,” Jinx confirmed, looking around. “He’s a real neat freak, huh?”

Mikhail snorted. “Always was. He likes order.”

“Control,” Jinx corrected firmly. “Zagan likes control.”

Mikhail nodded slowly. “Yes. You’re right. And now he has it. Thanks to our mother.”

Jinx joined him in the centre of the room, studying him closely. “How are you handling that revelation?”

“I don’t think I am,” he answered truthfully. “She was always a bit cold. She made no secret of the fact that Zagan was her favourite. But she must have hated Father—hated us —for her to put these ideas in Zagan’s head.”

“She sounds like she was mentally unwell, Mikhail,” Jinx offered, radiating compassion. “And Z clearly is, too.”

“Oh, I don’t doubt that. I just wish I would have known. Discovering all this feels like another betrayal. First Z and now my mother.” He paused, realisation smacking him in the chest. “And Brax had to deal with my betrayal, too. I let him think I was dead. Who does that?” He laughed harshly. “Perhaps I’m crazy, too.”

Jinx stepped closer, placing her palm over his furiously thundering heart. “You did that because you’re the King and have hundreds of thousands of souls to protect. You did that because you believed it was the best option to keep Purgatory safe—and to keep your family safe. You did it for Brax. Not to Brax.”

Mikhail closed his eyes, lowering his head so he could rest it against Jinx’s. He stayed like that for a moment, simply breathing her in. She was a miracle. Everything she said or did was like a warm embrace. An embrace he craved with every breath he took. And why shouldn’t I have it? the selfish part of him questioned. Maybe there’s a way, his mind proposed. Maybe we can work through our issues and find a way to be together.

Before he could talk himself out of it, he grasped her chin, tilting her face up. “When all this crap is settled, we’re going to have another conversation about this thing between us.” When she didn’t say anything, he angled her head more. “Jinx, tell me you understand what I’m saying.”

Her lips parted, and she whispered shakily, “I understand.”

Mikhail breathed a sigh of relief, the tightness in his shoulders loosening. As far as steps went, it was tiny. But it was a start, as well as a mutual acknowledgement. “Good.” Then, before he could stop himself, he leaned down and pressed his lips to hers. The kiss was tentative at first, testing the new, fragile bond they had just forged, then growing more urgent and desperate. When Jinx brushed against the hardness in his slacks, he sucked in a harsh breath and pulled back. He hadn’t meant for his lust to run away from him. “Sorry.”

Jinx smiled, her eyes twinkling. “Don’t be.”

Mikhail grinned at her, suddenly feeling damn good. She wasn’t retreating. Glancing around, he remembered what they were supposed to be doing. “I think we’re done here. Maybe Brax and Sabre had more luck.”

“I hope so.” Her gaze moved behind him, and she noted, “That’s an interesting painting.”

Mikhail glanced above the fireplace at the large canvas hanging there. “My mother’s doing.”

“I heard she was an artist,” Jinx murmured, moving so she was lined up with the painting.

“She liked to think so,” he acknowledged. “What do you think of it?”

Jinx looked quizzical, her brows dipping as she studied the artwork. Her head tilted to the side, and Mikhail smiled, thinking she looked damned beautiful with her black and white hair and different-coloured irises. She took a few steps closer, bringing her body in line with the window and the delicate sunlight streaming through it. Her breasts became a perfect silhouette, high and round on her chest. He felt his cock harden in his slacks again and his mouth water. He wanted to taste those mounds more than he wanted air to breathe.

Thankfully, Jinx was too busy studying the nuances of art to notice him being a complete creep. Those titties are not for you. At least, not yet. The mental scolding was enough to get him to avert his eyes. But not enough to deflate his dick. The stupid thing was still standing to attention.

“It’s a person, right?” Jinx said, suddenly facing him.

He quickly side-stepped behind the only armchair in the room, breathing a silent sigh of relief that it was tall enough to hide his predicament. “Huh?” he responded like a moron, thanks to the huge amount of blood currently pooled in his dick and balls.

Jinx’s lips quirked. “The painting. It’s a person—two people, actually.”

He nodded. “Very good. Most people think it’s just abstract. But there are two people in it.”

Jinx studied it once more. “Zagan and your mother?” she guessed.

Mikhail smiled. Jinx was damn astute. “You got it.”

At first glance, the painting appeared to be a chaotic jumble of shapes and hues, but as the viewer's eyes adjusted, the figures of a mother and son emerged from the canvas. The mother's form was rendered in sweeping curves of deep crimson and burnt orange, her body a warm, protective embrace around the smaller figure of the child. Her face was constructed by a few deft brushstrokes, yet somehow conveyed a sense of love.

The son was depicted in cooler tones—blues and greens that seemed to shimmer and shift as if alive. His form was more angular, all sharp edges and restless energy barely contained within the bounds of the painting. Where his body met his mother's, the colours blended and danced together in a joyous riot of purple.

“She really loved him,” Jinx noted. “You can see the love in every brushstroke.”

“Yes,” Mikhail agreed. “You can.” How did such a love get so twisted? he wondered.

“You know, if I was a brilliant, murderous arsehole with a serious case of mummy worship, I would keep anything important to me with her,” Jinx lifted her chin at the pointing, “with my mummy.”

Mikhail’s mouth opened and closed silently, no words forming. He walked to Jinx, embracing her before lowering her into an old-school dip. “You are truly brilliant, you know that?” He pressed his lips against hers in a hard kiss before righting her and striding over to the fireplace.

“You’re welcome,” Jinx offered breathlessly from behind him.

His hands were steady as he grasped the canvas. With a deep breath, he gently eased the massive painting away from the wall, revealing a small alcove carved into the plaster behind it. There, yellowed with age but unmistakable, lay a stack of papers.

“Do you think …? The missing pages …?" Jinx whispered from beside him, her voice barely audible.

Mikhail’s heart raced as he gingerly extracted the papers. His eyes widened as he scanned what was a list of names. Demons, dragons, fae, shifters, angels, vampires, and humans—hundreds of lives marked for elimination.

Jinx placed her hand on Mikhail’s arm, offering support. “There’s more than I thought there would be.”

Far more , Mikhail thought, his mind racing as he wondered how many of his people had already lost their lives. The sheer scope of the list was overwhelming, a crushing weight on his conscience. When Jinx jerked, he looked at her in concern. “What is it?”

“It’s nothing,” Jinx replied, not looking away from the pedigrees. Her mouth moved silently as she read over the names on the page. Giving her head a small shake, she finally looked up. “What now?”

He focused on her for a moment longer, making sure she was okay before stating with a determined edge, “Now we save as many as we can.”