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“Not if they could harm someone.” She stuttered on the last word, her eyes darting between Roman and the rest of the group.
“What’s the problem?” Darien asked Tanya, his jaw flexing. “I was in there with her before. Twice.”
Tanya spoke in a level voice. “The problem, sir—”
Jack snorted. “Sir.”
“—is the chamber can sometimes pick up on the other person’s energy and funnel it into the client. And not all energy is good energy.” The way she eyed him was suggestive—and her implication that he wasn’t good for Loren made his palms prickle.
“Tanya,” Roman said, that teasing smile still coating his voice. “If the man wants to go in the chamber, you’re going to let him go in.”
Her wary gaze bounced among the group. “Are you guys forgetting that I’m the one who works here? I’m in charge. If I wasn’t here, you wouldn’t even be able to get the chamber on.”
Kylar and Jack parted to reveal Tanner, who stood just behind them, gray eyes darting around in question.
Jack said, “Have you met Tanner Atlas?”
“Alright, that’s enough,” Darien said. “Let’s not be dicks—we’ve done enough of that.” He’d done enough of that, and he wasn’t about to get kicked out of here. He faced Tanya, and when he spoke again he managed to take the edge off his tone. “I know I’m asking you for a lot, and I appreciate that you’re helping me out. But she wants me in that room, and I’m not about to say no to her. It didn’t hurt her the first time, it didn’t hurt her the second time, and I doubt it’ll hurt her now.” If he had even the slightest doubt about that—if he thought he was bad for Loren—he wouldn’t set foot in there. Wouldn’t even breathe on the glass of the window, for gods’ sake. He took zero chances when it came to Loren’s safety, but this wasn’t a chance—he knew that.
Again, Tanya’s eyes flicked helplessly about the group. “It’s a matter of conscience.”
Jack said, “Take the dark road for once.” He laughed at his own joke.
Darien softened his tone. “You’re not the one making this decision, Tanya. Your conscience is clear.”
She stared at Darien, but he sensed that the fight in her was leaving, the silver rings around her pupils dimming. “If something bad happens, I will not be held accountable.” She squeezed between them, bumping her shoulder into Darien’s, and left the corridor. The tap of her stilettos faded with distance, and the door slammed shut with her departure.
Darien pushed his hair back. He faced Loren, whose heart skipped a full two beats the moment his attention settled on her. She was trembling, her nipples poking through the slippery material of her bathing suit. Usually, Darien would have drooled over the sight of those perky breasts like a horny idiot, but today, he was worried sick. It was way too warm in here—warm enough to make him sweat in his heavy black jacket—for her to be so cold.
She wrapped her arms around her middle, a visible chill spreading across her arms. “If she thinks it isn’t safe—”
“It’s whatever you want,” Darien said.
Now, it was her turn to look among the group. When she answered him, she shifted her focus to the chains around his neck—avoiding eye contact, just like she used to before they’d started dating. “I want you in there with me,” she said quietly. “Please.”
Darien heard the first three words more than he heard any of the others. And there was no way he was saying no to that—no way he was saying no to her.
He unzipped his jacket. “That settles that.”
Loren sat on the levitating tabletop inside the chamber as she waited for Darien to finish getting changed.
She gripped the smooth edge and swung her legs as she glanced about, watching as the pearlescent walls shifted with points of color. It reminded her of an opal—of the dress she’d worn in the spirit realm.
The memory brought a violent shiver to her body and made Singer whimper in her shadow.
A shrill whistle of approval sliced through the air.
Loren looked up to see Darien coming down the hall—wearing one of the white bathrobes provided by Caliginous on Silverway. His feet were bare, and he wore no jewelry. The Caliginous crest was embroidered on the left breast of the bathrobe, the silver thread catching the light.
Jack was the one who’d whistled. “Looking sharp, big boy.”
Darien punched him in the shoulder as he passed. “Shut the fuck up.”
The others were smiling.
Tanner said, “White’s not really your color.”
“He wears white shirts sometimes,” Ivy argued. “It looks good on him.”
