My jaw clenched. “Then it’s confirmed. That Fairchild person was working outside the Authority’s official channels.”
“They know what he’s up to,” a voice said from the kitchen door. I turned to find Ares Necroline. “But he’s definitely running his own operation.”
CHAPTER 19
ARES
The Maere’spenthouse apartment was beautiful—all heavy stone walls and arched windows with leaded glass. This part of the Carlyle was older than the wing our offices were in. The architecture was gothic, sweeping and mysterious in a way that lent an almost castle-like feel to each of the penthouse’s various rooms.
As we entered, Brontë and Verona turned, and it was clear I’d interrupted a moment between them, but Av was still in the cozy little parlor calling spirits, and she’d scolded Eryx and me for interrupting her. I’d just followed the voices into the kitchen, which was a haven of state-of-the-art appliances, a lot of white marble, and painted white cabinetry.
Rhiannon Brontë glanced behind me and her expression shifted, but I couldn’t tell why. I looked over my shoulder to find Eryx standing in the doorway, his mouth practically hanging open, staring at her. Her nostrils flared slightly, and I recognized it for what it was, frustration.
I smacked my brother’s burly chest, frowning at him in disapproval. We needed the Maere. He couldn’t be gawking at Rhiannon like she was some sort of goddess, just stepped out of the clouds.
His mouth closed as his brow furrowed. “Apologies,” he said, his usually deep voice a bit higher than I expected. He cleared his throat, his eyes on the floor. “Truly, Ms. Brontë. My apologies. It’s just that you were… amazing tonight.”
One of the assassin’s eyebrows lifted. “Are you complimenting myskills?”
Ember bit her bottom lip, her long, spindly fingers covering a smile. She averted her eyes from the awkward scene before us, pretending to examine some invisible speck of dust on some dimly glowing glass light fixtures. The room was bright by design, but the overhead lighting had been carefully chosen not to exacerbate the light sensitivity that most parapsychs experienced.
Eryx struggled behind me. “I… Yes.” He glanced at me, practically helpless. Usually, he was very good with women. Smooth, even. But Rhiannon Brontë had reduced him to a nervous wreck. “You are also very beautiful,” he blurted out. “But of course, you know that.”
It took everything I had not to groan aloud. I had never seen or heard my brother so awkward before. I joined Ember in her examination of the seeded glass globes that hung over the island.
“Yes,” Rhiannon agreed, taking up her mug of coffee. “Please excuse me. I need a bath.”
As she swept out of the room, Eryx’s cheeks flushed red, probably at the image conjured in his head of her in the bath. He hadn’t the nerve, apparently, to watch her leave, but his mouth pressed into a grim line. “Where is your office?” he asked Ember. “If you don’t mind, I’d like to get our tech set up before we determine what our next move should be.”
Ember nodded, her face completely serious, telling him where to find the office and the codes he needed to bypass her security. My brother’s shoulders squared off, and he seemed himself again as he left.
When his footsteps faded away, Ember dissolved into bubbly laughter. “Rhi’ll destroy him,” she whispered.
The words were harsh, but the delivery was not unkind. In fact, it was conspiratorial—like a secret between us. Nor was she wrong. I’d never seen someone so unaffected by my brother as Rhiannon Brontë. Typically, people fell at his feet, practically begging to be admired by him, though he rarely indulged in such attention. He might have finally met his match.
A low laugh rose from my belly, twining with the musical sound of her laughter. Ember’s eyes caught mine. “You have a nice smile.”
My heart fell victim to her soft expression and crinkled eyes. In my mind, I took three steps across the kitchen and pushed her onto the counter, kissing her so hard she couldn’t breathe. In my mind, her arms twined around my neck as her back arched, pushing those perfect breasts into me. In reality, I stood stock still, the smile falling from my face as I tried not to act on every instinct in me that told me to claim this woman as my own.
She frowned. “Did I say something wrong?”
I shook my head. “No. You’re perfect.” It wasn’t what I’d meant to say, but it was true. To me, for me, Ember Verona was perfect. I couldn’t keep denying it to myself, even if I could never have her the way I wanted to.
“Ares,” she breathed, setting her mug down. “You can’tsaythings like that to me.”
I nodded, solemn. I couldn’t.We couldn’t.She was right. I glanced at the clock that hung on the wall next to the refrigerator. “It’s late. Where do you want everyone to sleep?”
She took a deep breath, as though showing me to a bedroom would take immense effort. “So, we’re just going to talk about everything tomorrow, then?”
I nodded. “I think that’s best, don’t you?”
“Why not?” she replied, motioning for me to follow her.
An hour later, Av was done with the spirit-warding, and we were settled in our rooms. The penthouse was huge, with many more bedrooms than necessary, which wasn’t that surprising. The Consulate owed the Maere plenty, the least of which was lavish accommodations.
My bedroom was small, but handsomely appointed in midnight blue, with a giant bed that nearly took up the entire room. The worst thing about it was that it shared a wall with Ember. Imagining her, just feet away from me, tangled up in her bedsheets, was more than I could handle. I tossed and turned for an hour, trying not to think of her, my cock almost painfully hard.
I got up to go to the bathroom, thinking a dousing of cold water might help. Just as I was about to turn the shower on, I heard the sound of my bedroom door opening, and soft footsteps creeping across the room. My heart beat faster as I turned the shower on.
