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Michio prowled to the water’s edge, a powerful mass of shirtless brawn. The gleam of Roark’s light followed Michio’s upper body, which stretched wider, tauter than normal, his posture radiating barely-leashed animosity. Maybe he looked more murderous because of the kill he’d just made with his bare hands. Or maybe it was a result of his changing DNA.
Regardless, he was still Michio, the territorial man I adored, and when his eyes imprisoned mine, the intense devotion reflecting there burned as bright as ever.
I returned my knife to its sheath, holding his gaze. “I had a run-in with Aiman Jabara.”
Michio’s fists locked at his sides, and sinews corded in his neck.
Roark shifted beside me. “The fuck face is dead.” He leaned around me, eyes on Jesse. “Tell me I’m right.”
Jesse kept his attention—and his arrow—aimed on Michio. “Can’t do that, Priest.”
Given the rigidness in Jesse’s posture, it was on the tip of my tongue to demand he point the weapon somewhere else. But could I guarantee Michio wouldn’t hurt them?
When it came to their safety, failure could not be accommodated or bargained with.
“As I live and breathe.” Roark dropped his head back and glared at the black arch of sky. “This day just keeps getting better and better.” Then he narrowed tired eyes at me. “Wha’ happened?”
Standing at the edge of the moat, three of us on one side, Michio on the other, I tried to ignore the fifteen-foot divide between us. A divide that felt increasingly like an enemy line.
I gave Roark a shaky smile, met Michio’s eyes, and told them about my encounter with Aiman.
Aiman and Michio had grown up together in Okinawa, their fathers stationed there in the U.S. Air Force. I could only imagine how hard this was for Michio. A childhood friend had turned into a genocidal monster, died at my hands, or fucking hell, maybe he didn’t, which meant we’d have to hunt him down and kill him again.
As I talked through the confrontation, the muscles in Michio’s face tightened in the glow of the flashlight, his chest twitching and stretching, the gunshot wound no longer visible. I lowered my eyes to his feet, which were planted shoulder-width apart, as if ready to fight.
I detailed the Drone’s fangs, the wings, and the words exchanged, my voice floating over the moat as I moved my gaze back up Michio’s body. Black pants hung loosely over long legs, the waistband dipping beneath the indented V of his hips. Carved abs rippled into defined pecs, the thick column of his neck powerfully still as he listened.
I dared to return to his eyes, which didn’t blink or waver from mine. “He came to me in dreams when he was alive. Maybe he can do the same in death?”
A hand gripped my arm, and Roark turned me to face him. “Hold on, love, for fuck's sake. You’re saying he had a face like a melted wheelie bin? And he couldn’t touch the water?” He removed his hand and swiped it roughly over his mouth. “Sounds like the knob licker survived.”
I pointed to the bump on my face. “Kinda felt that way.”
The stillness around us grew darker, deeper, and I wanted to leave all discussions of the Drone with the creepy shadows and whatever lurked within them.
I nodded at the dead bug behind Michio. “Your eyesight is evolving? You see their glow, don’t you?”
“Yes.” Michio crouched at the edge of the moat and splashed water over his forearms.
I flexed my fingers, unable to release the tension. “The water doesn’t hurt you?”
His head whipped to the side, as if to hide the snarl hissing past his clamped teeth. Then he nailed me with a furious look. “I’m not a mutant, Evie.”
With a long forced blink, I broke the intensity of his gaze. “You’re evolving.”
“We’re both evolving. I’m offended you think my changes are more repulsive than yours.”
Ouch. I gritted my teeth. “You’ve been infected by the Drone, Michio.”
“I’m not him!” he shouted, eyes blazing. Then he rose slowly, jaw set, his fingers scraping over his cropped hair. “I’m the same man you made love to four nights ago.”
Jesse flinched beside me, his raised arrow following Michio’s head. I glanced at Roark and found him watching me with a squinty glare, the point of his sword digging against the concrete decking.
Why did I suddenly feel like I needed to defend myself? Michio and I had sneaked in a private moment on our last night in the mountains. They had to know, right? Michio was my lover. Didn’t mean he sucked my blood and turned me into…whatever he was.
Releasing a tight breath, I returned my attention to Michio’s disarming gaze. “What happens if you bite someone? Is the infection transferred through saliva? That’s how the Drone gave it to you, right?”
“It’s multifaceted.” His eyes hardened into brassy shards, swirling with too much goddamned intelligence. “I need time to validate my conclusions.”
