Chapter 5

SOREN

Agrowl rumbles from my beast at the thought of turning her over to her family. It's not happening on my watch. While we're the ones called beasts, mages are the ones who are often inhumane.

Mages treat beastlings no better than servants, but I would take that over the way they tear down their own kind and rebuild them into little zombies to do their bidding. Only those with power are allowed to keep it.

Any rebellions are stamped out before they can take root.

No one is allowed to challenge their rule.

Even though I'm no longer touching her, I can still feel the near mortal wounds to her soul. They tried to break her, and my beast releases a nasty snarl in my head that they would dare hurt her, the sound both mournful and so full of yearning that a shiver goes down my spine.

Thank fuck they didn't succeed.

I remain standing in the doorway, not daring to step farther into the room. My hellhound is so desperate to soothe her that I'm barely holding my human form. Flames lick over my fingers, and I quickly cross my arms to put out the fire before they frighten her off.

I'm not as good at flirting as the others. If I want something, I take it. Unfortunately, I suspect that approach won't work with her. She's too headstrong and slippery. One wrong move, and I fear she will vanish forever.

I can't allow that.

So I keep my distance, showing off my body and letting her know I'm interested. Though I can see hunger flare in her eyes, unlike most girls, she keeps her hands to herself, and my beast whimpers at the rejection.

It's only when we smell the sweet and spicy scent of her arousal that my beast perks back up, practically salivating with the need to taste her.

I shift and discreetly adjust my cock. When she follows the movement then licks her lips, my chest puffs up, and I pull my shoulders back, allowing her to look her fill. My voice is gravelly and harsh when I speak again. "No one is going to hand you over. If they want to take you, they'll have to go through me."

Instead of being pleased at the offer of protection, she looks sad, and my beast doesn't like it. We want to see that naughty gleam back in her eye when she was looking at us like a side of beef.

"Unfortunately, that's exactly what will happen, and the results will be the same. No sense in both of us dying." She pulls the sheet around her and stands. She should look like she's drowning in it, but with the regal lift of her chin and the defiance in her eyes, she looks like a queen. "If you give me a head start, I should be able to slip away. It would give me a fighting chance."

Cassius just shakes his head. "Your logic is flawed. They already caught you once. You would be safer here. MID can?—"

"Do nothing, and you know it." I click my tongue in derision and roll my eyes at his naivete. "MID is run by a bunch of mages. If one of the founding families makes a demand of them, they'd bend over backward to give them what they want just to curry favor."

Claws slice through the tips of my fingers at the thought of her leaving here without protection.

Without me to guard her back.

As much as I want to protect her, the second I abandon my post as an MID agent, a bounty will be pinned on my head. Once they sink their claws into you, there's no escape.

"She could stay," Darby offers, stepping around me to enter the room. Something about his stiff posture raises the ruff on the back of my hellhound's neck. Though the tech wizard's expression remains impassive, something almost hostile burns in his eyes.

While I would normally trust him with my life, I'm not so trusting with hers. "What do you mean?"

He doesn't remove his gaze from Anita, who is standing in the middle of the room. "In the mage world, you're not an adult until you turn twenty-five. Legally, we have to turn her over to her guardians. There is a small loophole. Sign up and become an MID agent, then you'll become a ward of the agency and protected from your family. Once you serve your term, you can resign and take your pension."

"No, absolutely fucking not," Cassius hisses, and the aggressive way he moves his shoulders tells me his basilisk is in charge. "They are more likely to kill her than her family. No one pressed into service ever gets out alive."

"That's the beauty of it," Darby argues. "She doesn't have a criminal record. Whoever removed her file deleted everything. All evidence she was ever at the scene of the crime is gone. She would be a full agent with all the protections that come with it. She's also a mage, which will automatically give her an extra layer of protection. It will also give her time to look into the bombing herself. She'll have plenty of time to figure out if someone was out to kill her or frame her for the crime."

"I agree with Cassius," I snarl, a rumble filling my chest at the thought of her leaving. "It's too dangerous. MID is almost as corrupt as the mage families. It's exchanging one tyrant for another. There is no guarantee that she'll be safe if she joins."

Darby turns toward me, and I can practically see the cogs turning in his head. "Are you saying she wouldn't be safer here with you to protect her than out there on her own?"

I'm not as smart as Darby, no one can compare to him in that department, but I know when he's trying to pull one over on me. I may be big, but that doesn't make me dumb. I just can't figure out his endgame.

What's worse is that he's right.

She would be safer with us to protect her.

I reluctantly take my eyes off him and glance at the girl who has become my new obsession over the last twenty-four hours.

I just can't let her go, not without a fight.

It's a dangerous game, a gamble that could cost Anita her life, but it might be the only chance she has to survive.

If Darby does anything to harm her, he'll quickly find his ass dragged to hell, because nothing burns hotter than a hellhound when he loses his temper.

ANITA

Iwatch in amusement as the guys argue about my future without once asking me what I want. I edge along the wall, thinking I might slip out while they are quarreling, but the instant I move, every hair on my body stands to attention when all three guys turn toward me, much like cats stalking a mouse. They fall silent and just watch me.

I raise a single eyebrow at the trio. "Do I even get a say?"

"Of course," Cassius replies immediately, studiously running a hand down his chest and fussing over the wrinkles in his shirt.

"No," Soren responds at the same time, not even batting an eyelash at his boldness.

I snort out a laugh, but my attention locks on Darby. He doesn't say anything, but he doesn't need to speak. A slight tightening to the crow's feet fanning out from the corners of his eyes gives him away.

I tilt my head, narrowing my eyes as a wave of familiarity rushes over me again. "Just ask me what you want to know."

He purses his lips, hesitating for a moment, then begins rolling up the sleeve of his shirt. From wrist to elbow rests an intricate tattoo of an electrical circuit and chip. The details are so fine that it practically pops off his arm. Fine black lines are etched into his skin with a soft glow around a few of them, as if electricity is coursing through them. Some of the blue and black ink gives off a metallic shimmer in the light.

It looks alive.

As I take in the full design, I get lightheaded so fast that I sway. I blindly take a step forward, reaching out to touch the tattoo, but I halt before my fingers can brush his skin.

I turn and sweep my hair to the side, then I pull down the shell of my ear, revealing the exact same tattoo, only mine is more delicate and not as detailed, the ink done by a fifteen-year-old girl. I glance at him over my shoulder, my eyes burning as I gaze up at him. "You're Corsair."

A heavy breath leaves him in a rush, his chest shuddering under the force, and he walks forward as if in a trance. Unlike me, he doesn't hesitate to trace his fingers along the lines of the tattoo.

I shiver under the heat of his caress, static tickling along my skin, and I feel his touch down to my soul. His breath fans over the nape of my neck, and I bow my head, clutching the sheet to my chest, barely resisting the urge to lean back against him.

From all the stories Charlotte told me of her older brother, I feel like I know him.

He grabs my shoulders and swings me around to face him. His hand settles around my throat, and I stumble back until my spine slams into the wall.

"Where's my sister?" A snarl curls his lips, and his grip tightens so much that I can't speak, even if I wanted to answer. "Where's Charlotte?"

My vision dims around the edges, but I don't fight him.

He has every right to hate me.

His sister helped me escape my family, and she died for it.