10. Rook
I shouldn’t be watching this…but I’ve been dying to see it fo weeks.
The scent of them clings to the air, a potent mix of musk and desire that coils tight in my gut. I lean against the doorframe, pulse hammering beneath my skin, and watch Aisling’s pale throat arch into Oberon’s mouth. The way she’s pinned against the wall, her chest heaving, lips parted—it’s a vision ripped straight from the darkest corners of my fantasies.
Oberon is completely wrapped up in her, no idea I’m here, that I’m done with my shower…but Aisling’s eyes flutter open, locking onto mine with an intensity that sends a shockwave straight through me. She doesn’t look away, doesn’t even blink, and in that moment, I see it—her grey eyes glazed with the same hunger that’s gnawing at my insides.
I take a step toward her and her lips part, a moan purring through the air between us like a physical touch…
“Damn, you two—get a room,” I suddenly blurt out.
Aisling stiffens and Oberon holds her tighter, a growl low in his throat as he looks at me. The growl fades as he shoots back a retort, but I can’t even hear him…because I’m looking at the way his big hands hold her waist, her hip.
Fuck, I want to touch her so fucking bad.
“Just came to say the world’s still turning out here,” I murmur.
We pass each other as they go up the stairs, and I go down—them to the bedroom, me to my lab. I can still feel her gaze burning into me, a silent call that begs me to turn back. No, I’m not an alpha—I don’t feel that pull to her, like a physiological need.
But I’m falling her like an ordinary man.
And somehow, I think that’s worse.
Because I can’t just put my cock in some other girl…not anymore. I’m falling for Aisling Faye, the Stargazer—a beacon of omega strength in a world gone sideways. And here I am, caught in her gravitational pull, fighting the urge to crash headlong into her orbit.
“Focus, Rook,” I tell myself, the memory of her helpless moan echoing in my ears as I put distance between us. “You’ve got bigger fish to fry.”
The lab’s chill is a slap in the face, sobering. I need it—the cold, the quiet, the familiar scent of antiseptics mingling with machinery. With every step toward my workspace, I shed pieces of the encounter upstairs, but Aisling’s phantom touch clings like a second skin.
“Get to work, Rook,” I grunt, placing the samples I got from the morgue on the stainless-steel counter. Machines hum to life at my command, their screens a welcome distraction.
I place the samples into the analyzer, then I sit down in my rolling desk chair and wait for all my fancy tech to do its work—to give me an idea what chemicals were in the guy’s lungs, see if I can find out what they’re putting in this shit and how to track it down. The digital readout begins to populate with numbers and graphs; it’s all nucleotides and markers, no room for grey eyes or soft moans here.
“Come on, give me something good,” I mutter, watching peaks and valleys form on the screen.
But my mind’s playing tricks, turning strands of DNA into strands of her hair, chemical signatures into the scent of her desire. I shake my head, trying to dislodge the image of Aisling caught between me and a wall, not Oberon.
“Focus, damn it,” I snap at myself. “This isn’t about her.”
“Sorry, can you repeat that? I didn’t quite make it out,” the virtual assistant chimes in from my computer.
I roll my eyes.
For some reason, I don’t think my computer can help me with this particular problem.
Bloodwork’s done, secrets spilled on the screen, but my head’s a mess of distractions. I shove back from the analyzer, the chair wheels squealing like they’re tired of my shit too. My computer pings—a message blinking on the screen, pulling me out of the maelstrom in my head.
It’s Inari Toure, her words crisp on the display: “I can marshal forces for your eros lab hunt.”
“About damn time,” I mutter, clicking the video call button before I lose my nerve. Her face pops up on the screen, immaculately made up with glittering eyeshadow and plum purple lipstick. I can see the Oasis skyline behind her, hazy in the late summer heat.
“Rook,” she says, voice smooth as a blade sliding from its sheath. “Got my message, I see.”
“Hard to miss.” I lean forward, elbows on the desk. “Listen, I’ve got a lead, but it’s buried deep in the Mojave. It’s no playground—gonna need some serious muscle.”
Her eyes glint with interest, or maybe it’s calculation. “Good thing I got some men for you.”
“What kind, though?” I mutter. “The Mojave ain’t a damn casino; if you want this lab found as bad as I do, we’ll need manpower that doesn’t scare easy.”
“I’ll start assembling the team,” Inari confirms, a smirk tugging at the corner of her lips. “But…that’s not the only reason I called.”
“What’s up?” I say, straightening up.
“Last night, I had a little tete-a-tete with Nero Rossi.” She lets that hang in the air, knows she’s got my attention. “He’s offering up Eclipse defectors. Says they’re itching for a scrap.”
My brow shoots up. Nero Rossi, Caius’s shadow, now stepping into the light? Last I knew, he was working with Vance—but according to Aisling, he’s been hanging around with our missing friend Gunnar. “Defectors could be useful. Or they could slit our throats in our sleep. I don’t trust most Eclipse as far as I can throw them, not with a sadist like Caius in charge.”
“Risk comes with reward, Rook. You know that better than most.” Her image flickers but her confidence doesn’t waver.
“Speaking of risks,” I probe, “was Gunnar Finch cozying up with Nero when you two chatted?”
Inari’s expression shifts like quicksilver. “You want intel like that, Rook? It’s gonna cost you.”
“Cost me?” I let out a dry chuckle. “Let’s not dance around it, Inari. I’m already throwing myself into the lion’s den to dig out this lab. Doing us both a favor.”
“Ah, but you forget,” she purrs, the slightest hint of a scold in her tone, “you’re protecting your business as much as you’re playing the hero.”
“Fine,” I concede with a grunt. Business is business, after all.
“Smart man,” she says, and I can hear the smile in her voice. “In that case…Gunnar Finch is cooling his heels in Oasis. And yes, he was in our meeting last night.”
My heart slams against my ribs like it’s trying to bust out. This isn’t good; Vance won’t hesitate to go for the throat if Gunnar starts—no pun intended—gunning for him. “And?”
“And he’s offering me something tempting for control over your precious little playground. You know how persuasive he can be.”
“Jesus, Inari.” My voice comes out more growl than words. “You’re stirring up a hornet’s nest. Vance won’t take kindly to that kind of play.”
“Vance?” She laughs, cold as ice. “Sweetheart, when did you start caring about Vance’s feelings?”
“Cut the crap. This isn’t about feelings. It’s about not starting an all-out war.” The last thing I need is my operations caught in the crossfire between two alphas trying to mark their territory in blood.
“War is just business by other means,” she quips, unfazed. “Besides, who says Vance has to know?”
“Everyone will know if things go sideways. And they always do.” I’m pacing now, the cool tile of the lab floor doing nothing to chill the heat in my veins.
“Relax, Rook. Gunnar’s on a leash. My leash.” Her eyes glint with something dangerous. “For now.”
“Keep him there, then.” I don’t bother hiding the edge in my tone. “Because if Vance catches even a whiff of this, Oasis won’t be far enough away for Gunnar to hide.”
“Such faith you have in me.” She blows me a mocking kiss. “But don’t worry your pretty head. I’ve got everything under control.”
“Does Vance know he’s got a viper in his bed, or are you playing the secret keeper?” I bite out, my voice a low growl, almost drowned by the hum of the lab equipment.
Inari leans back in her chair, the picture of nonchalance on my computer screen. “You can tell him or not; Gunnar is safe in Oasis. And honestly? It’s been too long since Vance found it necessary to come and visit me.”
I chuckle, bitter and short. “You’re enjoying this, aren’t you? Don’t play coy, Inari. I see what you’re doing—angling to be the kingmaker.”
“Rook,” she starts, her smile tight, eyes sharp as shards of glass, “I don’t need to angle for anything. I’m already one of the most powerful women in the world.” Her tone is matter-of-fact, but it hums with unspoken threats, like a live wire.
“Sure you are,” I say, keeping my expression blank, but inside, unease coils tight around my gut. Inari Toure is no one to underestimate.
“Speaking of power,” she continues, shifting in her seat, “there’s another thing I want from you.” She waits a beat, ensuring she has my full attention. “Bring Aisling Faye to Oasis with you.”
The request slams into me, unexpected, like a sucker punch. “Aisling? Why?”
“Because if I’m providing troops, I set the terms. Plus, something tells me she’ll enjoy the change of scenery…and I want to meet her. I’ve heard things, and I’m in the business of networking with omegas who want the world.” Inari’s laugh is a silken caress over jagged intentions.
“Fine,” I concede, pushing away from the desk, my mind already racing with the complications her demand will bring. “But remember, Inari, I’m not your errand boy.”
“Of course not, Rook. You’re far too valuable for that.” The way she says it, like she’s measuring my worth in blood and bullets, sends a shiver down my spine.
“Wow, thanks,” I grumble. I’m still reeling from Inari’s last bombshell when I say, “Figured we’d mobilize out of Pacific City.”
“Rook,” she chides with a smirk that could cut glass, “if I’m supplying the muscle, we play by my rules. Everything starts in Oasis.”
“Because you want your turf as the backdrop for the show?” I can’t help but push back, even though I know it’s pointless.
“Let’s call it a tactical advantage.” Her eyes glint through the screen, and I know she’s holding all the cards.
“Fine,” I relent, and I mean it. When it comes to Inari, resistance is like pissing into the wind—messy and ultimately pointless. “We’ll start in Oasis.”
“Smart move,” she nods. Her smile is all business, but there’s something predatory lurking beneath it. “Oh, and Rook?”
“Yeah?” I answer, bracing for whatever twist she’s about to throw my way.
“Extend an invite to Vance before you go.” The way she drops that last part, casual as if she’s asking me to pass the salt, has my pulse quickening.
“Vance too, huh?” My voice is steady, but inside, I’m calculating the odds of this whole thing blowing up in our faces. “You planning a party or a funeral?”
“Let’s just say I’m a fan of options.” The line cuts dead, leaving me staring at a blank screen.
Options. Right. With Inari, options are just different ways to dance on a razor’s edge.