15. Katalina
KATALINA
The moment Dorian looked at Gideon for too long, I knew this was going to become irritating. Very irritating.
Because Dorian never stared. He observed. Measured. Cataloged. Then filed people away into neat little boxes of value in that ancient brain of his.
But Gideon? Gideon wasn’t going into a box.
Dorian’s gray eyes moved over him once. Twice. Then narrowed almost imperceptibly.
Interesting. He seemed to say without saying a word.
Shit. I knew that look. I folded my arms. “No.”
Dorian blinked slowly. “No what?”
“You made your interesting face.” I made air quotes when I said the word “interesting.”
His mouth twitched slightly. “I’m sure I have no idea what you’re talking about.”
Liar. Absolute, utter liar.
Beside me, Gideon shifted slightly. His shoulder brushed mine. Subtle. Possessive.
Dorian noticed immediately. Of course he did. That bastard noticed everything. His eyes flicked between us before he slowly slid the book to the side, all but dismissed and forgotten in light of something more intriguing.
“Well,” he smoothly began, “to what do I owe this… unusual… visit?”
Debating how much to reveal, I stared flatly at him before I admitted, “I need information.”
“Ah.” He tilted his head slightly to the side. “There it is.”
My expression passive, I waited for him to continue before offering anything else.
Dorian moved around the counter with measured steps, hands tucked into his pockets, “What kind?”
“Disappearances,” I started with. “Experiments,” I continued.
His expression didn’t change. Didn’t twitch. Nothing. Which somehow made me more suspicious.
“Supernatural trafficking,” I added. Still nothing. Finally, I murmured, “Breeding.”
A pause. Tiny. Nearly invisible. But I saw it. Because I knew him. And because predators recognized predators.
“Oh,” Dorian quietly replied. “That.”
Gideon went still beside me. I sensed it instantly. Wolf. Alert. Watching.
“You know something,” Gideon observed. Not asked.
Dorian’s attention moved to him. Held again. Long enough to be out and out rude.
“Perhaps,” was Dorian’s vague response.
Gideon narrowed his eyes.
“I hate him already,” he muttered under his breath.
I almost smiled. Almost.
Dorian absolutely heard him. Because his mouth twitched.
Bastard.
“Information has value,” Dorian said calmly. “Therefore, a cost.”
Of course.
“There it is,” I sighed.
He had the nerve to look mildly offended. “I am deeply wounded.”
“You are many things,” I drolly replied. “Wounded isn’t one of them. What is your… price… for this information you purportedly have?”
His grin widened as his eyes shifted and landed on me. “I require a favor.”
Immediately, I stated, “No.”
Instead of upset, Dorian looked delighted. “Katalina, I haven’t even finished.”
“No,” I repeated.
“Still no?”
“Yes.”
He sighed dramatically. Then looked toward Gideon. “She’s become difficult.”
Gideon’s face remained blank. Completely devoid of any emotion. Which again, I’d learned was extremely dangerous.
“Get to the point,” Gideon snapped, and I wanted to throttle him. Showing that minuscule scrap of emotion was one of the things Dorian loved.
Dorian coolly studied him for a second. Then looked back to me.
“One future day.”
Silence.
“Um… Excuse me?” I asked with a single brow cocked.
“One day of your time,” Dorian clarified simply before waving a manicured hand dismissively. “Nothing romantic.”
Gideon made a low sound beside me. Dorian ignored him.
“Nothing cruel,” he went on, continuing to ignore Gideon. “Merely assistance with a future matter.”
Not trusting the demon behind the counter for a single second, I narrowed my eyes. “Forgive me for saying, that sounds more than a little suspicious.”
“It should,” he admitted with a wicked gleam in his pale eyes.
At least he was honest. I hated that I trusted him a bit more because of it. Because if there was one thing I could say with certainty, it was that Dorian never lied. Oh no. Instead, he omitted horrifying amounts of information.
Considering my options at the moment, I exhaled slowly. “Fine.”
Gideon turned immediately. “Katalina,” he barked.
“I said fine,” I repeated through gritted teeth as I refused to look Gideon in the eye. My spine burned where I now knew the marks were etched.
Dorian’s lips curved into a dark and twisted smile. Like a shark.
Ugh, I hated him.
Then he crossed toward a locked cabinet behind the counter and pulled an ancient silver key from his pocket. The lock opened with a well-oiled snick before he swung the door open and lifted out a large leather ledger and carried it to a desk in the corner.
Old. Handwritten. Magic clung to it like an oily aura. He opened it slowly, with an almost reverence. “I can tell you that someone has been purchasing unusual things.”
He motioned for us to sit in the two leather chairs facing the desk before he flipped several pages. “Silver-lined restraints.”
Page flip. “Magical suppression wards.”
Two more pages. Then his finger slid down the page as he scanned through the rows. “Supernatural sedatives.”
Another page turn. “Medical refrigeration equipment.”
We took a seat. Gideon’s expression darkened with every word.
Then—Dorian looked up. “They aren’t buying for harvesting.”
Silence. Long, calculating silence. Then—“They’re buying for reproduction.”
Gideon went perfectly still beside me. Not physically. Something deeper. Something animal.
Dorian dropped his gaze and flipped another page. “The purchases changed around six years ago.”
More pages. Then he stopped. His eyes slowly lifted. “One thing bothered me.”
Gideon folded his arms. “What?”
Dorian’s eyes locked onto his. “They initially ordered containment systems intended for wolves.”
Silence. Then, “A few years later…” Several page turns interrupted his speech. “…they began ordering smaller restraints.”
Silence. Smaller.
The room shifted like static on an old television before the picture restored itself. Gideon’s wolf rose violently beneath his skin. The wood of the arms beneath his hand cracked. Not much. Just enough.
Children.
Someone expected children.
Dorian looked down at the ledger again. “One name repeatedly appeared attached to the transactions.”
Not expecting him to actually tell me that, I frowned.
“Who?”
His eyes slowly lifted. “Rafael,” he murmured quietly before glancing around as if he expected Rafael to slide out of the woodwork.
Everything inside me stopped. No.
No.
No.
Because Rafael trained me. Taught me. Took a sixteen-year-old demon filled with grief and rage and turned her into a weapon—turned me into what I’d become.
He gave me skills, purpose, structure. And I had respected him because I believed he had nothing to gain except helping me become stronger to join in a cause near and dear to my heart.
The eradication of werewolves—the one creature that could induce a slow and painful death to a demon.
Then, suddenly I had one horrible thought. Maybe Gideon was never the target. Maybe I was always meant to walk into this.
And beside me—Gideon went terrifyingly motionless.