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When he reached over and tentatively tucked the loose tendril behind her ear, she recoiled with such intensity that her chair screeched against the floor. Surprised, she couldn’t hide the shudder of utter panic that trembled through her.
An apology appeared behind Riaz’s eyes, regret darkening his flawless features. “Cortana, I’m sor—”
“Just don’t, okay?” The ice in her voice made him flinch. “Don’t touch my hair.”
It took everything in her to control the quiver in her voice. The only reason she stayed seated upon her chair was four centuries of practice and poise. She wished she could take back the reaction, make the pity and regret in Riaz’s eyes disappear, wipe away his knowledge of any vulnerability. She didn’t like to expose her soft underbelly to the predators.
***
By the time they’d gotten back to the den, the tension between them had soured any further conversation, much less any attempt at flirtation. Riaz parted from her almost immediately, muttering something about pups in need of discipline.
Watching his retreating form down the long hallway, a spike of guilt lanced her chest. Though her reaction was and would always remain similar, she could’ve explained her dramatic mood shift. She doubted he’d ever truly understand the darkness the stained her soul.
She didn’t see Riaz the rest of the night, and she had a sneaking suspicion that it was purposeful. The next evening when she woke, Cortana sifted her fingers through her long brunette waves, nimbly pulling them into the tight braid that’d become as much a part of her as her personality.
Tying off the long rope of her hair, she threw it over her shoulder, the heavy weight of it settling between her shoulder blades. Her daggers went into the sheaths at her hips, rounding out her ensemble.
She typed a quick text to Drake, updating him on their startlingly slow progress and promising another report before the end of tomorrow. As always, his reply was near instantaneous, followed quickly by a gushing text from Toni, his wife.
The young Elemental was as fiery as the strawberry blonde color of her hair, her innate positivity and bubbly personality drawing Drake to her like a vampire to type AB negative blood. In the three years it’d been since she had taken his life by storm, Cortana and Toni had become good friends.
Though she’d initially been against Toni’s involvement in Drake’s life, she’d changed her tune once she realized the depth of her sire’s affection for the other woman—and the lengths to which he’d go to have her by his side.
Now, she was thrilled with her sire’s wife.
But when Toni had moved in, Cortana had unintentionally been pushed out. Rather than the confidant she’d always been, she became Drake’s pencil pusher, his personal assistant. She’d been relegated to a second thought rather than someone he looked to for the balance he’d always needed. Being a glorified secretary left her feeling underutilized.
Everything in her life was strictly controlled. Whether it was her hair or her schedule, Cortana was devoted to routine and ritual. By doubling down on the things she could control, she ensured that the wilder, more dangerous side of her nature never reared its ugly head.
Toni’s influence had opened Drake up to spontaneity, altering his style and making him a happier, more balanced person. In Cortana’s eyes, that shift equated to something that’d left her free-falling when she needed to be grounded. What had once been a shelter had become something radically different.
Cortana had never blamed Toni for it. In fact, she loved Toni—and she would protect Drake’s wife with her life. But that life had altered irrevocably, and Cortana had somehow remained in neutral, stuck in the mud of a previous life. It wasn’t a good look on her.
Starting her own House was out of the question, and she no longer felt content in her sire’s. When Drake had offered her this mission, she’d taken it. It was a last-ditch effort to refocus and reprioritize, and she was taking one day at a time.
As she walked, the telltale sounds of battle rang in her ears, the swish of swords flying through the air and the dulled thump of fists meeting flesh. Heart kicking in anticipation, her feet sailed across the wood flooring, bringing her to the largest indoor gymnasium she’d ever beheld. Along the innermost wall, a five-story climbing wall posed a daunting challenge—especially for those climbers who risked it without ropes. Sparring mats took up the broadest portion of the room, spanning wall to wall anywhere exercise equipment didn’t cover.
Werewolves in workout attire were in every major area of the room and occupied nearly as many bleachers. While Cortana had no need to exercise to maintain her form, courtesy of her vampiric nature, skills could get rusty with disuse, and it’d been far too long since she’d tested her mettle.
Opting for a casual walk, Cortana took to the edges of the gym. No one glanced at her twice, though several gave her wide smiles.
Her heart stalled in the next moment.
A flash of rich brown skin. The grunt of a takedown. The howl of an alpha wolf celebrating his win. Riaz.
The wolf offered a hand to the man lying on the ground, hoisting up his beefy opponent with a masculine growl. “Watch that flank, Talon. Leaving it open will only get you flat on your back.”
“Says the alpha who hasn’t been bested in a hundred years.” Though the words were bitter, the smile was anything but.
Riaz toweled off his face after the opponent took his leave, and settled into a solitary routine on the mats. The flowing movements, reminiscent of Krav Maga, were as graceful as they were liquid. Shirtless, there was no denying the long, muscular lines of his form, nor his raw magnetism.
Each movement illustrated the grace and power that lived contained within him.
Cortana was happy that he hadn’t noticed her. It was as if he’d taken to his own world, his practice filling out the boundaries of his mind while his body performed the routine.
Cortana’s own mind plunged her into last night, when she’d wrapped her body around his on the motorcycle, having the privilege to affirm that what was on show was the real deal. She had held those precisely defined muscles and the memory of their heat was forever embedded in her fingertips.
A deep, feminine chuckle pulled her from her thoughts. Cortana’s eyes snapped to her right, where she found Ava’s mouth twisted in a wry grin.
