Chapter 9
GAMES
Cyrus was lying in bed, envisioning all the things he wanted to do to Vesperin tonight, when shouting echoed from the hall. He sat up so quickly his head spun. The cold air brushed over his bare chest as he walked to the door and threw it open, only to stop as he saw the sight beyond.
Lucien’s hand was outstretched, vines with long thorns caging Rhyden against the wall. Flames licked at the vines, turning them to ash.
Rhyden stepped away, embers popping off his skin. "I let you into my fucking home, and you have the nerve to attack me like this? You have another thing coming if you think I’ll roll over and take it."
"You can’t keep putting her in harm’s way." More vines curled around Lucien’s hands.
Cyrus stepped into the hall, but they didn’t even look at him—Vesperin did, though.
Her wide, grey eyes found his. Her jacket was unzipped, revealing the form-fitting top beneath it. He saw the outline of her nipples through the fabric. His cock twitched.
As his eyes dropped to her shoes and the double-knotted laces, he saw the flecks of blood splattered on the soles.
His sultry grin fell.
"What happened, doll?" Cyrus held out an arm, beckoning her.
She shook her head, forcing herself between the two raging assholes who ruined Cyrus’s daydreaming. But was it really a daydream if it was nighttime?
"Enough!" Vesperin snapped. "You guys have to stop fighting all the time. This is getting ridiculous!"
The wide, dark halls seemed to grow smaller from the tension between them.
Lucien stared at a sconce on the windowless walls, then passed a hand over his face. He was squinting without his glasses. "He took you to a goddamned illegal trade. You could have been killed!"
"I wasn’t. I can stand up for myself, Lucien.
Listen—I love you." Vesperin’s voice shook, cheeks going pink as the three of them stared at her, making Cyrus wonder where the pretty blonde Soul Searcher was—he always missed the fun.
She continued, "But you have to stop treating me like a child.
You may own my Soul, but you seem to forget"—her eyes met each of theirs—"I own yours, too. "
"I’m trying. For you, Vesperin, I’m trying. For so long, it’s just been me and—Kiton," Lucien said, bowing his head.
"Now it’s not, and we’re all learning." She reached for him, taking his hands.
Cyrus didn’t want to be ignored any longer. He walked forward and threw an arm around her shoulder, pulling her away from them. Her cheek bumped into his bare chest, and he bit back a moan. He was famished.
"What’s this all about anyway? It tastes like trouble out here. Woke me up."
"We went to get some fresh air," Rhyden said, making Lucien scoff. Vesperin narrowed her eyes at him. "And we ran into a little trouble."
"What kind of trouble?" Cyrus pressed his face into Vesperin’s hair, smelling thick city fog and smoke. "Did you walk into a burning building?"
"No, we walked out of one. Rhyden set the warehouse on fire—there were too many bodies," she muttered darkly.
Cyrus stiffened in shock. He’d only been teasing her, but he realized he scented more than just smoke. The iron tang of blood. Beneath it, her emotions were colored with sadness and anger.
A portal sparked open at the end of the hall, light twisting in shadows. The Soul Searcher stepped through. His face was shrouded in darkness beneath his hood.
"You always arrive at the perfect time," Cyrus quipped. "So tell me everything that happened. Why do you taste so sad, doll?" He wrapped his arms around her and rocked them side to side, hearing her make a faint gasp from how tightly he held her.
"Don’t crush her to death," Lucien said tiredly.
Cyrus loosened his hold. "I have no interest in crushing her. Her enemies, though…"
Auren’s steps were silent as he approached. He pushed his hood back with a blackened, stained glove. The ends of his blonde hair were slightly frizzy, like he’d been standing amid a lightning storm.
Vesperin settled into Cyrus’s arms as she said, "We have to go back to Solar City."
Rhyden scrolled through listings on his laptop.
Boring, dull, too big, too small, too flashy, too plain, too far.
"Fuck," he muttered.
He was tired of this shit. Why were houses so fucking expensive in Solar City? He wanted something close to the Hunter’s Guild Academy. Preferably tall. With lots of windows… facing the direction of the Academy dorms.
Maybe he was playing it too clean. Fuck, his Soulbond and the moral assholes she kept around were rubbing off on him. He closed the website, bringing up a map of apartments in the area.
He clicked his tongue, staring at one in his ideal location. "Wonder what rich fuckers live here."
He searched up the address, and news articles flooded his screen.
Owned by Hallina Marxus. Age fifty-two. Waterborn.
No next of kin. Filthy rich socialite. And currently on trial for supposedly killing her fifth husband with a tube of toothpaste contaminated with an illegal, fast-acting poison smuggled in from Tarz.
The trial was in two days. How convenient for him.
Rhyden pulled out his phone, dialing someone who owed him quite a few favors in Solar City.
The owner of Briar Law Firm answered on the first ring. "Yes?"
"Kester Briar," Rhyden purred, "how have you been?"
The man stuttered, "Rhyden Valkar. If you’re calling about the payment, I’ve already sent it to your associates. Two months’ worth."
"That’s not why I’m calling, Briar."
"Then, to what do I owe this pleasure?"
"So formal. Especially considering the last time we had a little chat, you begged me on your hands and knees to get the Rogue poachers you pissed off in Lunar City off your back."
Briar drew in a sharp breath. "I’ve already paid your fees for protection and—"
Rhyden cut him off. "Like I said, this isn’t about that. I’m calling about a case your team took on. Marxus."
"The poisoner. What about her?"
"Oh, you think she did it, then?" Rhyden prodded, running the tip of his tongue over his fang.
"Of course she did. No one innocent ever comes to Briar Law Firm for defense."
Rhyden smiled. "Good. Make sure she loses and goes to prison."
"You want us to sabotage the case? Our reputation would be ruined!" Briar objected.
"I can always tip off the poachers and give them your address. And the address of your wife’s little shifter fucktoy.
She should be there right now, shouldn’t she?
She always tells you she’s going to exercise, but when she comes home all sweaty, it’s not from a run.
It’s with shifter come dripping down her thighs.
" Rhyden was bluffing. He wouldn’t drag Briar’s wife—or her two decades younger wolf shifter fling—into it. But the man didn’t have to know that.
"Fine," Briar hissed finally. "We’ll throw the case. It won’t be hard. She’s guilty as sin. Marxus will go to prison for a long time for premeditated murder—on five counts."
"Make sure of it. I’ll be watching." Rhyden hung up and threw his phone on the desk.
He kicked his boots up and crossed his arms, staring at the gorgeous penthouse suite on the screen of his laptop—right outside the Academy’s gates, with a window looking straight down into his wife’s dorm.
Soon, it’d be his.
Lucien pushed open the door. The air was cold and still in the darkness. The lights were off.
He felt like a changed man. No longer did his apartment feel like his home. He felt haunted, just standing here, staring at the bare kitchen island and empty fruit basket. Moonlight swept in through the large windows, making everything feel heavier.
He was alone.
Vesperin was with the others. It had killed something inside him to let her go. To willingly hand her off to that damned vampire and incubus. Auren, Lucien had respect for at least. He hoped the Soul Searcher would keep her safe.
They had appearances to maintain.
It was a delicate line they all walked. A game, Cyrus had dubbed it, as they’d passed through Solar City limits only hours earlier.
Lucien set his bag down and leaned his elbows on the kitchen island. Everything was just as he had left it. So why did this place feel so changed?
It was he who was different, Lucien realized as he pulled his phone out of his pocket and dialed the number of Solar City General’s Chief of Staff, letting her know that his… extenuating circumstances had changed, and he could now take patients again.
Rarely using his paid time off meant he had months’ worth—combined with his clean track record and proficiency in the field, his superiors hadn’t even blinked an eye at him taking almost three months of work off. It could not last forever, though.
It was time to play deadly games.
Sabine Blackfall stood in the security room.
The ends of her lab coat tickled her calves, perfectly manicured nails tapping along her forearm as she arched a brow at the head of the surveillance team.
This should have been her husband’s domain, but Talor was dealing with the fallout from… their failed Phoenix.
Something had to be done about that.
"Yes?" Sabine forced out. She had too much to do and so little time to do it. Curing mortality was a time-consuming process; however, the end result meant she would have all the time in the world—Earth and beyond.
The security guard turned from the monitors. "Ma’am, motion sensors at Quenlan’s apartment have been triggered." He clicked a screen and brought the greyscale image into focus, revealing Lucien Quenlan as he sat with his head in his hands. "He’s back."
"Alone?" she asked, her voice a purr of delight.
"No other motion has been detected. The doctor is alone."
She hummed. "How is the surveillance at his office at the hospital? Has it been fixed yet?"
The man began to perspire. "No—not yet, Ma’am."