Chapter 6

SIX

An hour later,I've got real clothes on and am sitting crisscross applesauce on a stool upstairs, staring at men's profiles scrolling across the tablet in my hand and trying not to look down at the map that reminds me of a giant playset for dolls.

But only points of light dance across the shimmering surface that projects the entirety of the Shadow Zone—the glacial valley that spans between the two caldera rims like a very wobbly donut.

I force myself to study each man's face as if this isn't worse than actually looking for a guy on a dating app.

"Recognize anyone yet?" D asks, stretching in my periphery.

I shake my head without looking up and then I stop, because I do recognize the man I've just flicked onto the screen.

Luthiel.

He wasn't one of the men waiting for me at my building. But he does make me think…

There's always a possibility this is about me.

Not D.

I don't even know how many times I've turned Luthiel down. I don't know how many men have been turned away without my even hearing about it.

But I'm just being silly and self centered.

Men here aren't like men on Earth… not like that. They can be possessive and jealous, but I've never heard of a single one hurting a woman just because he couldn't have her.

But maybe I'm wrong. Maybe Sian men aren't that different from human men after all.

I skim Luthiel's information. He works with the CSS, so he could have found a way to dig into my past and find out who I am and what I've done, but does he have the connections to get those men, or men like them, to come after me?

I shove that thought away. It's ridiculous.

Even if Luthiel, or someone like him, wanted D dead because he had me when they didn't, they wouldn't want to incriminate me in his death. They'd want to be the one waiting to be a shoulder to cry on.

His eyes are piercing in the photo as it stares up at me and I can't help but feel unsettled.

"What if it's me?" I ask, turning away from Luthiel's unseeing gaze.

D looks up at me, waiting.

"What if the reason someone wants you dead is because of me?"

D's brow crumples for half a heartbeat before it smooths again, and he nods.

"I thought you were going to tell me it was ridiculous."

Shrugging, he scowls at the keys in front of him. "If he was stupid enough to think killing me was a good option, I can think of a few reasons he'd want you to be the one who did it. Or at least the one they could blame."

I couldn't. "Like what?"

"If you were on the run, I would do everything to keep you safe. Like I am now… He could have planned to do the same. To sweep in, whisk you away somewhere where you wouldn't be caught and use your fugitive status as a way to keep you in line." He pitches his voice oddly. "You have to stay here, or they'll lock you away. You have to do exactly what I say, or I'll turn you in."

"That's a little far-fetched."

"Is it?" D lets out a long and low breath. "He might want to punish you for being taken, just as much as he would want to punish me for taking you."

"I was never his." Whoever this anonymous "he" is.

"I know. But human men aren't the only ones who can become… incorrectly possessive of women." He stretches his neck and the tense muscles of his shoulders shift. He comes to me and when he sees Luthiel's file, his posture changes. "I think… we should take a drive. Ask some questions."

"Do you think that's safe?" I don't like being afraid… I like being afraid for him even less.

"Luthiel won't try anything in his office."

"You know him?"

"Yes and no." He doesn't offer me any more clarity as he pulls up an address.

I nod. "Okay. We'll go."

He doesn't ask me to stay behind.

I don't want to let him out of my sight either.

I'm not used to being cooped up. Getting out of here for a few hours will be nice.

He sets an auto search function and then slips downstairs to get dressed. The bags from my car are next to the door, so I rummage through them until I find my heaviest coat and pull it on.

I almost argue with him when his car pops open as soon as we step out of the garage. Mine's nicer, but there was a heavy snowfall last night and I'd rather he's in something he is comfortable with.

D doesn't say a word when we get in the car, but it's an easy silence, and I don't have anything to say either. More snow falls in flurries and clusters as we drive the dark ribbon of road into the city, but we both curse when we get close enough.

Usually a bright beacon in the skyline, Margot's is dark.

I don't have to ask him to make a detour.

He turns off the route and his navigation chirps at him, trying to redirect. We both ignore it.

The parking lot at Margot's is empty. Not a single light washes the building's walls.

"What the hell?"

D holds my hand, locking me in place. "Margot's inside."

He doesn't let me go.

Not yet.

He scans the parking lot again, and his brows dip in confusion. "There's no one else here…"

And there should be.

Three o'clock in the afternoon, any day of the week, Margot's should be packed.

"We need to go in and see what happened." I pop the roof of the car and get out before he can ask me to stay behind.

An empty parking lot isn't eerie by itself, it's the lack of lights.

Those are on all day, every day.

Without them…

It feels dead.

We go to the main entrance and D puts his hand to the lock, but it flashes red, so I try mine, and when it slides open, I don't hesitate to jump inside. The ride to the top is dark, none of the rooms are lit, and Margot waits for us at the top, arms crossed over her chest.

She looks so strange without her usual rainbow-bright makeup. And with her hair pulled up like it is, it almost looks completely black.

"Welcome back." She says, irritation—not meant for us—seeping through.

"What's going on? Where is everyone?" All the lights are on inside and I wince, wondering how bad it is for D.

"I'll tell you, if you promise not to apologize for something that was in no way your fault."

I cringe and she chuckles.

"Just tell us, Margot. Please."

"Fine. But if you say sorry, you're buying me a drink."

She looks up at D, eyes narrowed as if she might tell him to fuck off, and then she shrugs and leads the way.

"Guy came in yesterday, late night, one of the ones who's gotten attached to you through no fault of your own. Anyway, he wanted to see you dance, said something about an anniversary. He even brought you flowers. And when I told him you weren't working, he looked like he might cry." She nods her head toward the bar. "He had a drink to nurse his heartache and then he got into a bit of a disagreement with another patron. Words were said, a barstool was thrown and now… we're closed and he's never going to get to see you again."

"I'm sorry—" it slips out before I can stop it.

"Don't be, now you owe me a drink."

She points to a patched wall with neon green words spray-pointed over it that say "Don't damage this, Assholes," and then goes around behind the bar. "He couldn't have picked a better spot if he was trying to fuck me over. Killed our power for six hours. I decided to stay closed for the rest of the day. Partially as a collective punishment. Remind the boys who come in here that if they play shit games, everybody wins shit prizes. And, it's nice to have a break… I haven't been closed for… it feels like eons, but it's only been about a decade."

She looks sharply at D. "Since I have you here. You can help me with a little heavy lifting."

Margot points at a new PA near us. "Take that to the front of the stage, please."

D shoots her a long suffering glance, but does as he's asked while Margot pours me a drink.

"How's living in sin treating you?"

I don't ask her how she knows that we aren't bonded and that I'm not pregnant. The idea of an unbonded pair spending a night together and not winding up bonded wouldn't even occur to anyone else.

Margot has bio scanners embedded in the elevator that read the bonding chemical, how much stopper is in a man's blood, if a woman is pregnant… all the fun things.

"We both know things are complicated."

"Yes we do. I'm not judging."

No, Margot never judges. She nudges and she hints.

"You wanted him to get away from us for a reason… what was it?"

She tips back a shot of water—I know her secrets too, and that bottle is one of them.

"I watch men profess their love for the women who work here on a daily basis. I know when they're lying. I know when they think they're telling the truth, but aren't. And I know when a man has fallen for a woman and will do anything it takes to stay by her side… even if he doesn't think he's ever going to get between her legs." Margot looks past me and something soft passes across her face. "You two are fated, girl. Do you think I would have let just anyone alone in a room with you?"

"Of course not. Do you think I would have let just anyone put me alone in a room with someone?"

Margot smiles at me and purses her lips like she has something she shouldn't say.

And maybe she says it anyway.

"That man is in love with you. And you better figure out real fast whether or not you love him too. Because he'll take you either way. But I don't want to see you again until you know."

"Are you firing me?" Prickles of anxiety flutter over my skin.

Being here, working with the women who love their job just as much as I love mine… that saved me after Edan.

She knows it.

"It's for your own good." She squares her shoulders. "Figure out what's going on with the people who want him dead and then figure out if you're going to keep him. You can have your job back once you know. Either way."

D comes back and he looks between us, but he doesn't ask what we were talking about. "We stopped in to see if you were okay, but we really need to be going." He looks at me. "Luthiel's office closes in about twenty minutes."

"Luthiel?" Margot looks at me, disgusted. "Why do you need him?"

"Just checking off boxes," he says, and Margot casts a questioning glance at him.

"He wanted Kimba in an unhealthy way. So I have no doubt he would do something stupid if he thought it would get her. But from what she told me about the men who want you dead… Luthiel doesn't have the intelligence or the resources to make that happen."

"I'll keep your opinion in mind." Glancing at me, D turns for the exit.

I let him go, let him ensure that it's safe, because I know arguing isn't going to get me anywhere. But when I turn to follow after him, Margot catches me with a glare.

"Promise me one thing."

I raise a brow, not willing to commit to anything until I know what I'd be signing up for.

"Promise me you'll seriously consider giving that man what he wants. Because I think it's what you want too. It's a risk, I know. But you can't let fear keep you from something that could make you happy."

She's right.

I've been afraid for a very long time. But I'm not afraid anymore.

"I'll see you soon."

I lean over the counter and kiss her cheek before hurrying through the oddly empty club, back to D.

He holds out his hand, and I take it.

I don't dislike Margot, but I don't enjoy the way she always looks like she can see straight through me.

I don't like when people seem to know more about me than they should, and Margot knows more about anyone than a person should.

So I take a deep breath when we get back outside, and exhale all the anxiety that itches at my skin from her scrutiny.

We get to the car as another one pulls in, but it's just a trio of guys who pull right up to the front and each try their hand at the access pad. Red lights all around followed by grumbles as they slink back to their car. I wait until Kimba belts herself in and then turn the car back for the direct route to Luthiel's office. Except, Kimba gets a call and even though Margot's quiet on the other end, I can hear the conversation well enough to punch in the number.

Luthiel has already gone home for the day and Margot has his home address… something I wouldn't have been able to get.

Kimba thanks her and hangs up, pressing her lips together. I wish I knew what she was feeling. I wish I knew if it was simple worry or some deeper dread that made the corners of her mouth turn down like that.

"Since we're not on a time crunch anymore, can we make a small detour?" She looks up at the skyscrapers and takes a deep breath, "I'd prefer to do it in daylight."

"Sure, where are we going?"

She puts the address into the navigation as an initial stop and then drops back to the chair. "I want to see if they've trashed my place."

I know where she lives… I couldn't rest easily without knowing she was somewhere secure—though not secure enough, it would seem—but I've never been to the building. I've gone out of my way to stay away.

But I follow her directions and I park in her assigned spot in the garage. The light in front of the car flashes red until she hops out and slides her hand over the panel. And I feel a little more at ease when she slips her hand in mine before we head for the entrance to the building.

The garage is deserted… thank the saints. And she gives me a confused glance when I hit the button for the ground floor.

"I want to look at the security cameras first."

"Oh. We need to go to five."

She hits a few buttons, canceling my request and sending us straight to the fifth floor. "I didn't know they could do that."

"You're not supposed to know you can do that." She offers me a smile and when the door opens, she leads the way around to the far side and steps into a room that is floor to ceiling, wall to wall, security monitors.

"Hey Kimba," the guy behind the desk barely looks at her, his attention solely on me. "Get yourself a bodyguard?"

"Yep." She says it as if it's not a lie… and maybe it isn't. "He wants to see some of the feeds."

She looks up at me and waits.

"Can you cue up the camera that shows her door and go back to the last time she left?"

"Sure." He hesitates, looking me over again, not hiding his suspicion.

That's good. He should be suspicious if he's sitting in that chair.

"It was about eight o'clock," Kimba tells him.

He pulls up the right camera and the right time and I see Kimba walk out her door, loaded up with the bags she had in her car.

"Can you bring it down to one of these screens?"

Again, he looks suspicious and then moves out of the way as I take over the controls. My eyes sting as I take off my opaque glasses and when I focus them on the screen, I flip the speed to the fastest it will go, watching random residents pass by, the day change to night change to day again.

"How can he…?"

I ignore the man's unfinished question and don't look at him. I don't need to. I already know he's seen my eyes and that his have flown wide. I keep my focus fixed on the screen in front of me and a few moments of silence later, I nod and put my glasses back on. "No interruptions in the feed, no one messed with your door."

"Good."

The security guard watches me, still. But it's with a little bit of awe mixed into his suspicion.

"Fancy new SecSys tech?"

"Sorry kid," I slip my glasses back on. "You can't buy these eyes. You have to suffer for them."

"How badly?" He wants them… he doesn't know how wrong he is.

I ignore him and let Kimba take my hand again, leading the way to the lifts. She doesn't need to hear how many times the Maker made me want to die before he finished piecing me back together.

Kimba is silent until the elevator doors open on the seventy-third floor. And I let her lead the way down the hall, but I keep close behind her.

No one's waiting for us.

When she palms open the door, I wince, even with my glasses on.

"Sorry, I didn't think about it." She slips her neural link over her ear as I close the door behind us, and a moment later dark shades slide down over the windows.

Her home is easier to see without the daylight trying to destroy my lab-grown retinas, but I don't love what I find when that awful brightness disappears.

All of the base elements of this place are white and sterile. All of the things she's brought into it are deep blue and soft.

She's found a way to live in this space, but it doesn't seem worthy of her.

"Make yourself comfortable, I just want to grab something I forgot." She hurries up the stairs and I follow her with my eyes as she goes. The lower part of the apartment has a kitchen behind me and a large living space between me and the now shaded windows. But the thing that draws my attention, immediately, is the flat shelf set in the center of the wall to my left.

There are flower petals there and stubs of incense and signs of things that once lived there, but were hastily removed.

I know what hung from the peg above it.

This was her shrine to Edan's memory.

I put my hands in my pockets so I don't touch anything. She's lived here with his ghost for years. It feels like a tomb to me, and even though that isn't what it is to her, I won't desecrate this space.

But the hollowness I feel, as if I can find the grief in the space deep in my chest I've set aside for her, that aches deeply enough I can't be down here alone.

I climb the stairs to the loft-like space above the living area. There are no walls, only glass barriers of varying heights.

The view at night is, no doubt, amazing.

The disarray of her departure is more evident here. There are clothes hanging halfway out of drawers, the table beside her bed is a tangle of knocked over trinkets… but her bed is perfectly made, and beyond it…

"Hannah refers to it as a trophy shelf," she says when she comes out of the bathroom and finds me staring at the collection of brightly colored facsimile cocks.

"It's a conversation starter, at the very least," I say.

"No one comes up here… only a few of the girls from the club have even come over, and it's not like they'd be offended." She shrugs and stands next to me.

"You didn't want to take any of them with you?"

"One's missing," She catches her lip between her teeth, and then a little laugh escapes her. "I don't really use the others anymore…"

"Why not?"

"I found a favorite." Her gaze drops to my chest and, for the first time in all the time I've known her, she blushes with embarrassment. "One that reminds me of you."

My cock twitches painfully against my pants and my imagination tries to kill me with the idea of her, lying in that bed, fucking herself while she imagined me over her… riding it while thinking of me underneath her.

"You're not supposed to take your work home with you."

"And you've never been work." She pulls me down to her as she presses up onto her toes.

When she kisses me, it's like it's the first time all over again. Her mouth is tentative, her lips soft, and her fingers hook in my coat, drawing me closer and holding me at a distance all the same.

I don't move closer, even though I want to. There are so many reasons to set her away from me and walk back downstairs to wait for her, but I'm not as strong of a man as others think. I'm not even sure I'm as strong of one as I think.

The temptation of her will always drag me close to the edge.

And I think she knows it.

Muscles tensed, I let her control every part of this.

When she curses, it's only an echo of the words floating in my head.

We're tiptoeing on a very precarious ledge.

"I want to, but…"

I hush her. "I know. But I don't want to leave you needy."

Eyes wide, she watches as I step back from her and go to the shelf. I pull one of them from the line at random. It breaks free with a suction pop.

And when I look back at her, she licks her lips, but her gaze is locked on me… not the toy.

Because she wants me. Not the toy.

My cock strains against my pants, reminding me that I can give her what she wants.

It can wait.

She finally looks down at the cock in my hand. "If I didn't know you grabbed the first one you touched, I'd say it was a good choice."

When I'm close enough to her that she has to take a step back to look up at me, she says, "I'm not sure there would be a bad choice while you're the one wielding it."

I lean close, and instead of begging her to want me badly enough to tell me to put it away… "Do you want to come for me right now, Kimba?" I ask, breathing a kiss across her skin. "Do you want to show me how you want my cock to spread you wide?"

Her neural link flutters blue and the lights downstairs flick off, the ones up here dim even more than they already were, and soft music flutters through the speakers hidden in her ceiling. Then she slips it from her ear, looking up at me with eyes blown wide with desire.

Tucking it in her pocket, her eyes never leave mine as she shimmies her coat off her shoulders and slips her hand around mine… guiding my hand up until she's placed it over her heart.

I don't tell her I can see her heartbeat in the pulse at her neck.

"Sometimes, it scares me how much I want you," she says.

"Me too."

She nods, letting free a long breath and then she releases my hand. "I trust you."

With a nudge, she slips free of me and she walks slowly back toward her bathroom, stopping when she's halfway between it and her bed.

It's not until she turns back to me, one strap of her tank top sliding down her shoulder, that I realize she's not walking away, she's giving herself room.

I've never asked her to dance for me, but I've always hoped I was the one she was thinking of when she took to the stage at Margot's.

This isn't about anyone else.

There's no one between her and me, drooling at the sight of her.

It's just us.

I slip off my coat and sling it over the chair, but that's all I'm taking off here. And when I sit on her bed, she doesn't look the least bit surprised.

This isn't like the dances she does for other men to watch. It's softer… smaller. She moves her hands over her body and I know she's imagining they're mine.

When she slips her top over her head, she throws it to the same chair that holds my coat. She sways to the music, and my hands itch to reach for her, but I stay put.

Kimba doesn't. She toes off her boots and slinks toward me, "I've thought about what I'd do if you ever let me dance for you, downstairs at Margot's."

"And what did you come up with?"

She shakes her head, hair softly brushing against her jaw. "Nothing was ever right." She steps between my legs and turns before dipping down. "Because I don't want to dance for you. I want to dance with you."

She leans back against me, raising my hands to her breasts and tipping her head back so she can kiss me.

"Is this okay?" She asks, and I know why. Because it can't go where my straining cock wants it to.

"Yes." I squeezed her nipple before letting that hand coast lower. "I want to hear you come one more time before we go back to our problems."

Her stomach flickers when my palm coasts over it, and I'm the one who slides the zipper of her pants free.

She rocks against my hand, working it down her body with that rhythm and spreading her legs wider when my fingers reach the wet heat of her pussy.

Saints, she's the embodiment of perfection.

When she'll let me, I'll bring her back here and I'll sling her over my legs like this when we're both naked. It will be some dark night when we can leave all the lights off and raise all of the shades—to give the unwitting world a show—and I'll whisper in her ear that she's mine and remind her that thousands of men want to be where I am…

Thousands of men want to be where I am right now.

It would be so easy to shift her, just enough to slip her pants off, just enough to free my cock and slide her down onto me.

Too easy.

I lift her off me as I stand, turning and laying her on the bed. She's so gorgeous it hurts.

She smiles up at me like she could love me one day.

That thought punches me in the chest.

Some day.

She shimmies her pants down and catches her lower lip between her teeth as I pull them the rest of the way off.

This trust she's given me is something I'll never break. I'd rather walk out into the Zone and let the monsters or the cold take me first.

The toy has rolled to rest against her hip, and she picks it up, inspecting it for a moment before her eyes lock with mine again and she sucks at the tip.

I feel mine weep in response.

Dropping to my knees, I pull her to the edge of the bed and cover her wet pussy with my mouth.

The taste of her makes my eyes flutter closed.

The whimper my tongue draws from her makes my cock strain against my pants, and I grip her thighs more tightly.

Each lick and suck draws a new and beautiful sound from her lips, and then… it draws a strangled one.

I look up in time to see her pull the silicone cock from her mouth and draw a deep breath, and I know what I want to do.

Standing, I pull her flush to the edge of the bed. "Come here."

She props herself up on her elbows, watching me with heavy-lidded eyes.

Slipping it from her fingers, I ask, "Can I fuck you with this?"

Her throat moves as she swallows, and she nods, eyes following the movement of my hand.

But I don't draw it along her wet and waiting pussy. I open the fly of my pants and fit the flared base inside.

Her eyes widen and she wiggles her hips, inching closer. The "fuck yes," she whispers under her breath nudges my cock against it, making it bob.

She watches me ease her open, and when the tip of the toy presses into her, she exhales in a single, heavy whoosh.

I still have to hold it, but entering her this way, even when it's not my cock, sends the best kind of shiver up my spine.

Rocking into her, I watch her consume the silicone cock, and when I'm halfway inside of her, I finally raise my eyes from where I've entered her.

She is beautiful with her face crumpled in need.

One last gentle thrust of my hips, and it's buried inside her.

Her gasp makes my chest ache and when I trail my gaze down her body, it looks like she's mine.

But she's not. Which means I don't know how she feels about any of this. And I can't guess.

Swallowing back the selfish need that tangles in my throat, I ask, "Do you want me to keep going?"

She takes a deep breath, meeting my eyes. "Yes."

"Are you sure?" Saints, I wish I could feel her answer before she had to give it.

"Yes." She smooths her hands up my arms and says, "I've wanted to come with you over top of me for too long, D. I've dreamed about you in this bed… It can't be what I want, but we can get close."

There's something in the tilt of her eyebrows and the way she chews on her lower lip. A question… a fear.

I kiss her and pray that's enough to drive whatever that look is away, and then I move back. I reposition myself so that I can get a better grip on the base, and so that I can hold her in place and use my thumb to tease her clit.

"Saints." The word is a whisper and I wish I could feel the way I've just seen her tighten on the cock.

Knees bent, back arched, fingers twisting in her sheets… Kimba looks like a goddess pulled from my deepest fantasy.

I just want to hear her cry out in ecstasy.

I want her to come apart with bliss and to forget—even if it's just for a moment—anything that doesn't make her deliriously happy.

Dipping down, I flick my tongue over the peaked buds of her nipples and smile against the soft flesh as she lifts closer to me, pressing her breast to my mouth.

I want to hear her make these sounds every day for the rest of my life.

When I rise back up, she wraps her arms around my neck, coming with me. And when she's half upright, she rides the dildo, rocking it against my cock until she comes and I… don't. Thank the saints.

I'm painfully hard and she's eerily still.

Both of us breathing in the silence of her home.

"Fuck." She whispers the word against my skin. "I wish condoms worked with you."

There's a tremor of fear in her voice and I pull back from her and take her face in my hands, making her look me in the eye. "I'm never going to do anything to hurt you. No matter how much we both want something."

She licks her lips, biting the lower one before she nods.

Easing back, I pull the wet dildo from her body first and then work it free of my pants next. It and my hand are both soaked and the scent of it… the scent of her makes my nostrils flare.

I lick the thing like a lollipop and she makes a strangled sound.

"Fuck that's hot."

She shimmies down, going to her knees on the floor and all but tears my pants open, stroking me just long enough to guide me into her mouth.

It's on the tip of my tongue to tell her she doesn't have to do this—again—and then she looks up at me with the most amazing smile I've ever seen, and I don't have the chance to warn her.

Her eyes widen, and she laughs a moment before I come, and that laugh turns into a gurgle. When her eyes close, she drinks me down like I'm the most delicious thing she's ever tasted.

I watch her in awe as my abdomen convulses and I pour into her mouth.

She doesn't pull off me until I'm done and when she looks up at me, her eyes sparkling, my cum dripping down her chin and onto her breasts and tightly clenched thighs…

I could never have asked the saints for this. I could never have imagined such a gift.

It was probably a mistake to come here, but I can't bring myself to regret it as I stand in my shower with warm water cascading down my back and D standing in front of me. His hands massage circles along my spine.

"Careful. I'm going to fall asleep if you keep that up," I say.

"You can sleep when we're home."

I nod, agreeing with him before my mind catches up… before I realize that I am well and truly screwed.

I shouldn't think of his outpost as home. I shouldn't already feel like I'm his.

But continuing to fight against those feelings is foolish.

I've kept the lights off, but D sets me away from him and when he steps out, drying himself and slipping out to put his clothes back on, he flips the hand switch.

The light, somehow, makes me colder. It feels wrong, now. Like dimness is a default and anything brighter is wrong.

I don't linger in the shower. I finish cleaning off, and when I step out of the bathroom again, D is waiting, staring at the windows as if he can see through the shades.

Maybe he can.

"You okay?" I ask.

"Just letting my imagination run wild." He holds my shirt out to me and I pull it on, watching him, but not asking any of the hundreds of questions in my head. Because I can imagine him… at night, with the stars and the city behind him… loving me.

I swallow back those thoughts and hurry to put my shoes on.

We've already spent too much time distracted.

We spend the elevator ride in silence and I drop my head to his shoulder as he drives us through the garage and out into the darkness of dusk.

It's not a long drive to Luthiel's home.

The upscale neighborhood he lives in reminds me of the place Edan and I used to live in Gongii province.

Luthiel always made a point of boasting about his money—or so the other women at Margot's told me—and his house is exactly what I would expect from someone who wants everyone to know he's rich.

The second I had put through the visitation request at the front gate, the metal had swung wide. And now, as we pull up to the front of his house and D kills the engine, a flutter of anxiety starts in my stomach.

I don't know what Luthiel expects, but I doubt the man stalking up the steps behind me is on the list.

I feel the slightest depression as I place my foot on the third step and know that it's triggered a bell somewhere deep in the house. He should have been expecting me, so I'm not surprised when he opens the door before I've made it to the top.

The massive wooden door swings the rest of the way open as his smile fades and his gaze slides to D at my back.

"I had thought this was a surprise house call." He grimaces, and I ignore it as I stop in front of him. "But I don't think you'd bring that kind of muscle if it was."

"A house call for what?"

He mutters something under his breath and then steps aside, "Well, since you're here, you might as well come in."

I glance back at D. This could probably all be done on the stoop, but he nods and so, I step inside.

The house is even bigger than it looks on the outside. And we're not even inside when Luthiel closes the door. The courtyard is open to the night air overhead, and I tip my head back to look up at the stars.

"To what do I owe this pleasure?" He says the last word with the appropriate amount of disbelief and stuffs his hands in his pockets.

Luthiel looks like he hasn't slept in days. His usually impeccable shirt is rumpled, his hair is a mess, and his eyes are bleary.

"You look rough, issues at work?" D asks, and Luthiel's lips purse in a sharp line.

"I could answer that question if she wasn't here. But she doesn't have your clearances, even if she is your mate."

We smell like each other. Luthiel's nostrils flare, and I let him believe it.

"You know who I am?" D asks.

"Of course. What I don't know is why you're here."

He walks past me, leaving us to follow him and I do, after a quick glance at D to make sure we're still good.

The stone path from one front door to the next curves around an enormous and tasteless fountain, and the interior of his home isn't much better.

Luthiel may have money, but I wouldn't be surprised if it was all tied up in the furnishings in his home.

Honestly, nothing about Luthiel screams murderer. He's the kind of guy who's too absorbed in himself and his image.

He might be our first option, but it's a long shot. One I don't know how to account for.

If he was any weaker of a suspect, he'd be a plastic bag.

I stop in the middle of his living room—one designed with no attempt to accommodate a future human mate—and I don't bother going to the sofa.

"Drink?" Luthiel asks, holding up a bottle from a set up that reminds me of a sliver of Margot's bar and looking at D.

"No thanks."

He shrugs, pours himself a full glass and tips it back like a shot.

"I'm glad you're alright, Kimba." He pounds the cap back onto the bottle. "After what happened at Margot's… she wouldn't tell me anything about how you were, or where you were."

"That's policy."

"I know." He sounds bitter when he says it, but he takes a deep breath, turning to us, leaning back on the counter and crossing his arms over his chest. "Showing up at my house randomly isn't policy."

His mouth twists in a frown, and his eyes dart between us once again. "What do you want?"

I'm trying to decide how much I want to give away, and how soon.

D takes my pause as an opening. "Are you trying to kill me?"

Okay… all of it. And now.

I look back at D, not really certain how to let him know I hadn't meant to give Luthiel that easy of an out, that quickly.

Better to let him stew.

But D isn't looking at me. He's staring at Luthiel in that way that feels like he can see straight into someone's soul. Someone's mind.

It's something I don't ever want turned on me.

Even being this close to it is unnerving. I want to step away, move myself so I'm behind D, instead of beside him. But that's not the image I'm trying to project.

Luthiel snorts and grabs that bottle again. "Don't flatter yourself." He then looks at me, "I knew you had a bondmate and yeah, I wanted to fuck you, but I'm not delusional enough to think that killing your bondmate would be my in."

D lets out a little huff of a breath and I wonder if Luthiel knows he's laughing. But D says, "He's not lying."

"Why would I lie about something like that?"

Taking a deep breath, I look up at D for a moment before I turn all my attention to him. "We have a problem."

"What kind of problem?" Luthiel's attention is now firmly fixed on D.

D might be the looming danger, but I'm the one who's going to get the answers we need from him.

"Someone threatened me and tried to kill him."

Eyes wide, his focus snaps back to me. "Who?"

I shrug. "If I knew that, we wouldn't be here."

"You think—" His face transforms from shock to anger to something that stabs at my gut. "I would never hurt you or any one of the women who work at Margot's."

"Would you hurt me?" D asks. "I'm standing in your way. In the way of more than just her."

Luthiel starts to argue and then his shoulders drop. His eyes narrow. "We can't talk about that with her here."

"Read your rule book again. Anything we know, our bondmates know."

I clench my teeth because I can't argue with him and still get what we want.

"Fine," Luthiel does sit this time. He looks like he's eaten something disgusting as he goes to the sofa and then drops his elbows to his knees. "I vote the way I do on that asinine measure, because I know it isn't going to make it past the five of you."

"But your name is still on the pro column."

"And if I thought for even one moment that Roiban would win his extermination bid, it wouldn't be. But I need him on my side for other issues. The CSS's problems are vast. What happens in the caldera is something you freaks should be left to deal with on your own."

Luthiel looks from me to D again. "I may have more reasons to dislike you now, but I have never hated you, and I certainly don't plan on being the vote that actually results in a bomb being dropped."

My whole body chills. I have no idea what they're talking about, but it isn't good.

"I guess I'll find out if you really mean that at the next vote, won't I?"

"You should look into Roiban. If you die, the brotherhood falls into the hands of an unknown. It would make his position stronger."

"I'll keep that in mind." D's hand tightens on my hip. "And we'll leave you to the rest of your evening."

D leads the way out and Luthiel doesn't stand to follow us.

But I don't ask my question until we're in the car.

"What has he voted for?"

D grits his teeth and pulls away before he tells me. "There are certain members of the CSS that want to remove the brotherhood from the caldera. They want to drop a bomb on the cavrinskh population and be done with it."

I stare at the opening gates, confused. "Dropping a bomb into a dormant volcano sounds like a bad idea… even if you ignore all of the other problems."

"There are precautions in place to keep it from erupting. But I don't know how they would hold up against a bomb."

"What kind of precautions?" I grew up close to a dormant volcano on Earth… there were no "precautions" taught in my science classes.

"Timed pressure valves to cycle magma through chambers and let it off-gas to the surface. Trench would be able to explain it better. His mother designed and implemented the system decades before she died." He shrugs. "Most people have forgotten that the Zone sits over a volcano at all. They don't read the information we give them. They just want an immediate answer to a problem that's too complicated for a simple fix."

"And that's why you think they want you dead? Because you're stopping them from doing it?"

"It's a possibility." He turns the car for the mountains and says, "I think we can safely cross him off the list. He didn't know you were unbonded."

"True. But it's possible that he hired someone to kill you and they figured me out and approached me without giving him the details."

"He doesn't like hiring people to do things for him. If he did, he'd have a maid."

I look at him askance, and he holds up his hand. "He was cleaning when we got there. He still had a soap patch on his left hand."

"I didn't even notice."

"Few would have."

"I spend too much time looking at you to notice things like that."

He smiles. It's different from the ones I've seen before, and a little piece of my heart melts.

It's the kind that comes from soft memories… We don't have many of those yet. But we might.

And we might not.

A cold slice of dread solidifies the part of me that had softened. He puts himself in very real danger, danger he might not ever come back from.

If not for someone trying to contract me to kill him, I might never have known. One day, he might simply have disappeared.

Swallowing, I have to look away. I didn't realize the thought would sting.