Chapter 24 Octavian
OCTAVIAN
We walk out of the gym in silence, my hand resting at the small of her back, guiding her up the basement stairs. The scent of sweat and sex clings to both of us.
Keira's hair is messy in the best possible way, and her breathing has finally evened out, but her shoulders are tense. I can feel it in the way she moves, quick, jerky steps instead of her usual confident stride. She's nervous. I don't blame her.
We just fucked. Crossed about every line there is and then some.
The gym mat's still imprinted on my knees. My lips slightly numb from how hard I kissed her. I can still feel her nails digging into my shoulders, the way her body clenched around me when she came, twice. The sounds she made.
Fuck.
I close my eyes for half a second, forcing the images out of my head. Not helpful right now.
She stops at the top of the stairs, her hand gripping the doorframe. "I'm going to take a quick shower," she says without looking at me. Her voice is soft and unsure. Uncertainty, maybe, or regret. Damn. I hope not.
I open my mouth, and I almost say, I'm coming with you. Almost. My body still aches for her. My mouth still tastes her. Her heat is still soaked into my skin. But I bite it back.
"Alright," I say instead, giving her a nod. "I'll be here."
Her green eyes search my face for something, maybe trying to decide what this was. What we are now.
Hell if I know, but giving her space to process this is probably a good idea. Shit, I need to process this too.
She turns and disappears down the hallway.
I stand there for a long moment, staring at the empty space she left behind, my mind spiraling.
I shake my head and make my way to the kitchen, heading straight for the sink. My mouth is dry as hell, and even after chugging a full glass of water, I still taste her on my tongue. Her sweat. Her kiss. Her moans echoing in my head like a song you can't stop singing.
I glance around the kitchen, at everything perfectly in place, totally opposite of the chaos I just unleashed downstairs.
Fuck.
I set the glass down and grip the edges of the counter.
Focus, Octavian, I tell myself. I can't allow any emotion to cloud my judgment.
I can't. For me, for her, for my brother's memory. Shit, for everything.
And I can't seem to suppress my uncle's voice either let it happen.
My stomach twists.
I can't be weak for her. Not when the world she's tangled in is unraveling around her. Not when my job, my duty, is to protect her.
And yet, my cock twitches at the memory of her naked beneath me. Of her green eyes lost in pleasure.
I close my eyes. Breathe in deep. Breathe out slow.
She's just... she's the most infuriating, desirable woman I've ever met. She's—
"Octavian!"
Her voice yanks me out of my thoughts. I spin around as she runs into the kitchen barefoot, phone clutched in her hand, and a towel knotted around her chest.
She looks panicked.
"Look, I—" I start, stepping toward her, ready to address the massive line we just crossed.
"No, not that," she cuts in and holds up her phone, her hand trembling slightly. "It's him. Martin. The mole I wanted to go after. He's calling me."
My focus narrows on her phone, and I close the distance between us, stopping right next to her. "Is that normal? Does he call you?"
"I mean, he's worked for us for a long time, so yeah. Sometimes? Maybe?" Her voice is higher than usual, uncertain. "I don't know."
"Well, his name's in your phone, so?" I ask.
"Yeah, but my assistant puts everyone who works at the Trust in here so I know who's calling," she says, looking down at the screen, thumb hovering. "Should I answer it?"
"Yeah," I say, "and put it on speaker."
"Okay, okay." She swipes to accept the call, hits the speaker button, and places it down on the counter.
"Hey, how's it going?" she says, forcing lightness into her voice. But her eyes are locked on mine, wide and wary.
There's a pause on the other end, just long enough to make the silence uncomfortable. Then a man's voice, breathy and rough, comes through.
"I take it you know."
Keira stiffens and her jaw tightens. "Know what, Martin?"
"Callum came to the office looking for me, so I thought you figured it out."
"Damn," she whispers, then mutes the call, her eyes flashing with anger. "They didn't wait for me. I told Declan. God..."
"Hey," I say, rubbing her shoulder. "It's okay. Stay calm. Keep him talking. This is what you do."
She forces a smile, nods, and unmutes the phone.
"You were always kind to me, Miss Killaney," Martin says, his voice softer now. Almost sad.
"Oh, thanks, you were always a good employee," she says, looking at me and shrugging, unsure of what to say.
Martin doesn't respond at first, just breathes heavily. "But your family burned mine to ash," he says, his tone shifting darker.
The man starts making a sound, crying or laughing, I can't tell. It's a wet, choking noise that sounds dangerous.
Keira's face goes pale.
"The Phantom King is coming," Martin says, his voice rising. "Soon. And feathers will find you."
Keira looks up at me and then back down at the phone.
"Martin," she says.
Nothing.
And then a loud bang. It's sharp and unmistakable.
A gunshot.
Keira flinches, her breath catching. "Martin? MARTIN!" Her voice cracks as she says his name again, louder, desperate. "Martin, answer me!"
He doesn't respond. Just silence.
"What the hell just happened?!" She stares at the screen, her hands shaking.
I reach out and end the call.
Her eyes are wide, locked on the now-dark screen. She's breathing too fast, shallow breaths that tell me she's spiraling.
"Who the fuck is the Phantom King?" I ask, my voice low. I know about the Morrígan. And the feathers. I know more than she thinks. But that name is new. No one's told me about him.
Her gaze slowly shifts to look up at me. "He's the reason you're here."
"Here," I say, pulling out a chair. "Sit down."
She sits and rubs her face with both her hands.
"Martin said my family burned his to ash. That's what this fucking Morrígan Order believes. Apparently, it's made up of people my family wronged or destroyed. I don't know."
"And what do you know about this Phantom King?" I ask, keeping my expression neutral, but my mind is already cataloging every detail.
"Their leader, but no one knows who he is. Not even Callum." She swallows hard, her throat working against the motion. "But the feathers, those are real. The Morrígan Order uses them as warnings. Threats. Promises."
I step closer, my hand lifting to cup her jaw, tilting her face up toward mine. Her skin is warm and soft under my fingers. "Look at me."
She does, her green eyes glassy with unshed tears.
“No one is going to hurt you. I won't let them.”
“What about the Phantom King?”
I forcibly breathe air out of my nose and lean in closer to her. "No one is touching you. Do you understand me?"
She searches my face, her lips parting like she wants to argue, but the words don't come.
"Yes," she breathes.
She studies me for a long moment, her gaze flickering between my eyes like she's trying to read something I'm not saying.
"Do you ever get scared?" she asks.
"Scared? No," I tell her, my voice low. "But pissed, focused, serious, yes."
She rolls her eyes. "You're always like that."
"Not always."
She tilts her head back to look at me. "When aren't you?"
The answer comes too easily: When I'm with you.
But I don't say it.
Instead, I brush a strand of hair away from her face, my thumb lingering at her temple. "When I need to be calm."
It's not a lie. Not entirely.
She smiles.
"I need to call Declan," she says quietly, changing the subject. "He'll know more than Callum will tell me."
"Go ahead."
She picks up her phone from the counter, her fingers trembling as she scrolls through her contacts. She presses the call button and waits, chewing on her bottom lip.
As it rings, I lean against the counter when suddenly there's a bang on the door.
Keira jumps. "Jesus, who the fuck is that?"
I look down at her. "Stay here."