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“Isn’t it obvious?” I ask, taking a sip of wine before continuing. “Arden knew we’d seek revenge for our father’s death eventually. He knew we couldn’t touch Grim or Beast without a blood bath, and that we would seek out someone close to them to exact our revenge. He made preparations to intervene. What better way to do that than to manipulate Thirteen into planting those seeds? Remember they deal in debts. No doubt Thirteen’s grandmother owed them one. What’s a little white lie from a dying woman to her granddaughter? Thirteen’s the perfect Trojan Horse.”
“You don’t trust her?”
“Even if she’s unaware of the web she’s been caught in, she cares for Nothing. She will do what she can to protect her now. That has become abundantly clear and presents us with a huge problem.”
“And Grim, do you think she knows that Zero’s related to Arden?”
“Doubtful. Charles is our best hacker and even he couldn’t turn up that information. Then again, it could all be lies to confuse and baffle. Perhaps Nothing isn’t a Dálaigh after all.”
“Yet our father travelled across the country personally…” Konrad’s voice trails off as we come to the same conclusion.
“Indeed.”
“Which makes me question his motives given the legend. Could he have believed it was true?”
“No. Our father didn’t believe in fairytales anymore than I do. He wanted them dead because they’re Dálaighs, not because of some bullshit legend.
“So you do believe she’s a Dálaigh then?” Konrad asks.
I sigh. “Yes. Yes I do. It makes sense.”
“But the legend?” he persists, his mouth pursing.
“Even if it were true, why her? There’s nothing to suggest she was the one who’d somehow save us. Those cunts, The Deana-dhe, have weaved this whole fucking tale, garnering information then twisting it to suit their needs. That’s all this is, manipulation at its finest. Though I must admit, writing a letter and using Thirteen to deliver it is genius in its simplicity.”
Taking another sip of his wine, Konrad nods. “Then we have a war coming, brother.”
“We had one coming anyway. It’s just got more players than we initially anticipated.”
* * *
One leans in close,lowering her voice so that none of the other Numbers around the table hear what she has to say. “Should I expect to see you again?”
“Perhaps,” I reply noncommittally.
“I wasn’t to your satisfaction?” she asks, her gaze dropping to my hand. The blood has seeped through the linen, splotches of red stark against the crisp white, like droplets of blood on freshly fallen snow.
“You were exactly what I required,” I lie, needing her off my back.
“Good. You know that for you I’m available any time day or night.”
“I’m well aware, but you have a show to prepare for. The ball is coming up. Right nowthat’sour priority.”
“Even so…” she allows her voice to trail off, her offer thickening the air between us as she flicks her long black hair over her shoulder. She has beautiful hair, and once upon a time I had spent many nights with it wrapped around my fist as I fucked her mouth. Other men delight in such an experience, and pay thousands upon thousands to experience their cock deep-throating her pretty mouth. I abhorred it, only orgasming because I forced myself to imagine anyone else but her to get it over with.
Nothing was the first woman to ever make me come so hard I barely had the wherewithal to form a cohesive sentence, let alone stand upright. The way she’d sucked me off in my room of curiosities was unlike anything I’d experienced before.
She hadn’t fought, she’d taken control.
She pleasured me like I meant something to her, and had touched herself whilst doing it. I’d intended to take, and whilst I did exactly that, she took, too. Her ability to mentally and emotionally guard herself is beyond anything I’ve ever witnessed before. Even though I was the one with my dick in her mouth, she was the one with all the power. She had me by the balls, literally, and the fact that I’m thinking about her now tells me that shestilldoes.
God-fucking-damn it.
Fisting my hand, I press my fingers into the wound on my palm, chasing that memory away and any lingering thoughts of the woman who has no place living rent-free in my fucking head.
“Even so,” I reply firmly, “I wish for you to do your job. The ball is of the utmost importance to me.”
“I understand,” she replies, nodding sharply. “The Numbers are ready to perform and have been for weeks. We are all very experienced at this, though I fear not everyone will be up to speed.”
