The bond answered with a deep, bright pull through the center of me, and for a second I was nothing but contact. Dominic behind me, solid and warm. Rhain in front of me, his hand at my jaw, his breath in my mouth. My skin too awake. My pulse too loud. The morning no longer empty, but full.
Then the part of my brain responsible for survival, scheduling, and a healthy respect for Yuki Mendel-Ashenmere came back online.
“Rhain,” I gasped against his mouth, and then Dominic’s teeth grazed the back of my neck again. “Dominic.”
“Yes,” Rhain said, his voice gone rough, which was unfair under the circumstances.
Dominic’s arm tightened at my waist, and his mouth stayed warm against my skin.
“Yuki’s note. Six-thirty.”
Rhain went still. Dominic stopped behind me at the same time, his mouth hovering against my neck, his breath warm enough to make good judgment feel personally insulting. His fingers tightened at my waist, then loosened with visible effort.
Rhain rested his forehead against mine and for one more second, no one moved.
Then he let loose a beautifully tragic sigh. Full of unjustly interrupted intentions. I laughed softly, and his mouth touched mine once more, not quite a kiss and not quite a surrender.
Rhain’s eyes opened all the way and sharpened. He folded the sleepy warmth away. I did not have to elaborate. He had read the note over my shoulder when it arrived last night.
Diplomatic visitor inbound. Council session called for oh-eight-hundred. Formal dress. Be visible.
Rhain sat up. Dominic was already moving.
His arm slid from under my head, slow and exact, his palm brieflycupping the back of my skull before he eased away. By the time Rhain had pushed a hand through his hair, Dominic was sitting at the edge of the bed, feet on the floor, shoulders squared, attention already on the door, the windows, the hour, the problem.
Not rushed. Just awake in the way Dominic woke: completely, and with consequences.
* * *
The diplomat was Ambassador Constance Harrow.
I knew her by reputation. Three terms in the Senate, one in the State Department, currently special envoy forcomplex bilateral matters, the title the U.S. used when it had decided that a situation required someone too senior to be ignored and not senior enough to require Congressional notification.
Yuki gave us the briefing in her office. Dominic at her right and Rhain at her left.
“She is here on Davis’s recommendation,” Yuki said.
“Davis isn’t coming.”
“Davis isn’t coming.” Yuki’s voice held the same temperature it had held in the corridor last afternoon. “He has elected to remain in Langley and let the State Department carry the negotiation. He’ll be in an adjoining room at the embassy in Seattle. He’ll hear the proceedings live.”
“He wants to watch.”
“He wants deniability.”
Rhain stirred at Yuki’s left. “What’s the formal ask?”
“The repatriation of US citizen Catalina Cordero, citing diplomatic protection of an American national in protective confinement on foreign clan-territory.”
I let my eyes drop, then lifted them. “They’re going to claim I’m being held. In front of an Ashenmere council session.”
Yuki didn’t move. “The fiction will not survive examination. It is not designed to. It’s designed to give Davis cover when he files theafter-action report that says he tried diplomatic channels before the bond became a hostage situation.”
“The bond isn’t a hostage situation.”
“No.”
“Then we tell them that.”
