Chapter 9
Chapter
Nine
Caden
F inally, Sydney leaves the room and sashays down the hall. I hate losing the stunning view. The woman is pure sex tightly packed in petite curves. One glance at her, and she revs me into overdrive. But I need to shelve my rabid libido and search for clues that might help me find Anka.
As soon as Sydney shuts her bedroom door, I jolt to my feet. If she has an appointment to see her source this weekend, surely she wrote down a time, an address, a phone number—something that would lead me to their meeting and make this crazy scheme worthwhile.
With the clock ticking, I yank open a nearby antique secretary between Sydney’s living area and kitchen. The little red diary isn’t here. I scan bills, pictures, a list of things to do, a little calendar with various handwritten dates inside…like Aquarius’s holiday. Unfortunately, no mention of where Sydney’s assistant is heading.
I right everything, then race to the kitchen. There, I find a shopping list and a collection of flyers for restaurants that deliver takeaway. Nothing else. I don’t care that Sydney is out of milk or that her local pizzeria has a November special.
Heaving a sigh of frustration, I shove everything back in place.
A fresh tingle and a cold sweat suddenly envelop me. Refusing to consider what they might mean, I scan the open living area. Her handbag sits on a little table near the front door. I hesitate…but I can’t afford to be squeamish about invading her privacy.
I unzip the bag. No sign of her phone, but I push aside her coin purse, keys, and lipstick to discover an old-school notepad with an attached pen. My hands shake as I flip it open. It’s littered with notes. Some large, some sideways, some in an odd shorthand I can’t decipher. I lift one page, another, a third… At the seventh, I strike gold. A whole page dedicated to the magickind story Sydney is slowly, foolishly revealing.
Saturday @ 4, A’s place , one of her notes says. Today, then. Who is A? Aquarius? Or Anka? Is it possible my brother’s mate got her own place since Mathias poofed her away? Why didn’t she simply return to Lucan? Where is she now? Somewhere hurting? Nothing on the bloody scrap of paper answers any of my questions.
Just below that is a list of seemingly random thoughts under the heading Possibilities . She’s written yet another list, this one of horrific possible stories.
Decomposition of bodies
Magickind living amongst humans?
Magical war/other battles
And most alarming:
Origin of the magic diary.
Shit.
Granted, any of these stories seems like a natural follow-up after writing about the battle in the tunnel. But if she writes a single word about the Doomsday Diary in Out of this Realm , Mathias will hunt her down within hours. He devours sweet morsels like Sydney, and the thought of what he could do to her makes my blood freeze and my rage burn.
He will touch her over my dead body…and I don’t want to think about why I’m so protective of a woman who’s merely my colleague. I mean, I barely know her. But I know I’ll die before letting Mathias hurt her.
Why I feel that way is something I’ll handle later.
The fumbling of a doorknob from the back of the flat alerts me. Sydney is returning, damn it. I wasn’t done searching.
Cursing, I shove the little notepad back into place, zip up her purse, then creep back to the living room, planting myself on the sofa.
Sydney steps in, wearing a pair of long, flowing pants and a curve-hugging sweater. I preferred the lingerie, but this outfit emphasizes how petite she is. Fragile. If I were to lay her down and cover her body with mine, I would completely envelop her as I molded every one of her lush little curves against my body…
Reckless thought. I’m losing what little spare room I have in the front of my jeans, and Sydney’s quizzical expression tells me that she’s done some thinking while she was changing.
That’s never good.
“What’s so urgent that you couldn’t wait until Monday? That you felt compelled to hunt me down over the weekend?”
As always, she’s straight to the point. Women I’ve dated in the past typically drive me mad with endless chatter about nothing important. The one woman I wish would prattle is far too driven for that.
“Sit.” I pat the sofa cushion beside me.
She settles in, eyeing me as if she can read my thoughts. I repress my urge to squirm.
“The office is always hectic,” I comment.
“We’re in a deadline-driven business. Your point?”
“That doesn’t leave us much time to…get acquainted.”
“You think that will improve our working relationship?"
“Perhaps, but that’s not why I’m here, Sydney. I want to get to know you, as a person.” I purposely drop my voice an octave and lean closer. “As a woman.”
She cocks her head, the wheels in her mind obviously turning. “For what purpose?”
Bloody hell. “Are you always this direct?”
“Are you always this vague?”
My “seduction” is becoming a proper mess. How the fuck do I pretend mild interest for the woman who incites an unrelenting, clawing desire? I have to be flirtatious, but I don’t dare touch her. I’m well aware how magical men instinctively find their mates.
I fear one kiss would be my doom.
“I’m trying to say that you interest me without you filing a harassment complaint.”
That makes her laugh. “Interest you in what way? I’ll tell you if you cross the line.”
“In every way imaginable.” That, I don’t have to lie about. The lingerie she wore earlier tells me without a doubt that she has a gorgeous body I’d kill to touch. She fascinates me, from the wicked arch of her auburn brows to her small, pink-painted toes. The woman brims with intelligence. The way she asks questions, deduces the truth quickly, yet still carries herself with undeniable sensuality dazzles me. And her zest… Have I ever attacked each day with such passion? Certainly not since serving overseas and being one of the few survivors of my platoon. Perhaps not even since my younger brother’s tragic death.
“So…more than professionally?” she asks.
I shrug, hating the need to be coy. “We work together, so the situation requires caution. I hoped we could…get to know one another first, then see if we wanted to pursue more.”
Her eyes narrow. “This is the first I’ve heard or seen of any interest beyond the professional.”
“I’ve tried to keep unprofessional thoughts to myself at the office.” That’s the truth. Hopefully, it’s enough to satisfy her curiosity.
I should have known better.
“You’ve had them, have you?”
“You’re a beautiful woman.”
“Thank you.” My flattery only sharpens her gaze. “But your interest seems…sudden.”
“I could tell you my first thought after meeting you, but it’s definitely not fit for the office.”
Sydney faces me, tucking one leg under her and anchoring her arm across the back of the sofa, her fingers tantalizingly close to my shoulder. Just her nearness makes my cock swell and throb.
“Is that so? All right, I’ll play along,” she murmurs. “I’ve had similar thoughts.”
“I thought so yesterday. In your office. It was in your eyes.”
“So that’s why you decided to say something now?”
“Yes.” It sounds reasonable, despite the fact I sensed her interest almost from the moment we met.
“So what do you think we should do next?”
“Take it slow. Get to know each other, then decide if we want to proceed, so we don’t jeopardize our working relationship.”
“Hmm. Very mature and gentlemanly.”
I hope she believes me…but one look at her and I resist the urge to wince. Something is going on in that head of hers.
“But let me make certain I understand. I’m to believe that you’ve had lascivious thoughts since meeting me, but hid them until you…either broke into HR’s records to find my address or followed me home, either of which shows an amazing dedication to seducing me. Then, rather than asking me to lunch or coffee during the workday, you knocked on my door on a Saturday morning and looked me up and down as if you’d like to strip me bare in the foyer. And you did all this so that we can take our relationship slowly? Have I got that right?”
Bloody hell. I should have guessed she would see through my ruse. I clench my fists. My brain goes into overdrive. How do I repair the damage and salvage my mission?
I clear my throat. “What I’d like to do and what’s wise are two different things.”
“Often, yes. But let me tell you what I think is happening: You insulted Jamie because he’s a slacker, and you object to them as a rule. Very against your military background. You want to be a part of the magickind war story for some reason, and you’re fixated on my source of information. When I refused to let you tag along, you decided to resort to a halfhearted seduction in an attempt to hoodwink me into changing my mind. Is that closer to the truth?”
Fuck. I’ve been involved in undercover missions easier to pull off than this. She’s definitely too smart. I have to step up my game…or go down in flames.
“What’s happening is that I’m far more attracted to a colleague than I’m proud of, and the things I want to do to you would make every one of your pert little freckles blush. I tried to stay professional because I need this job, but when I realized the attraction was mutual, I couldn’t stay silent. I didn’t mention my feelings at the office because it’s inappropriate. Neither of us wants to start gossip, right? And as much as I’d love to strip you naked in the next three minutes, I don’t want to simply shag you. That wouldn’t help me to know you better. Yes, I’m interested in your source about the magical war story because I understand war, and let’s face it, a woman claiming such things is intriguing, if a bit mad. But I’m also not trying to rush you to bed because I don’t want to build artificial intimacy simply to get my way. I want you to choose to make me your partner at the office, regardless of our personal relationship.”
There. That sounds logical. And even a bit closer to the truth.
Sydney sends me a considering stare. “What do you recommend next?”
“An early lunch?”
“Actually, I was about to toss together a sandwich. You’re welcome to join me.”
“I meant to take you out.”
“Wouldn’t staying in allow for more privacy? If we’re going to…get to know one another, that’s harder in public.”
And far too easy to succumb to the temptation to put my hands all over her. “If you like, but?—”
“Perfect.” She rises to her feet and heads for the kitchen.
I follow.
“Tell me about your parents.” She starts grabbing ingredients. “Are they still alive?”
Wait. I’m supposed to be getting to know her, finding ways to make her trust me, not the other way around. “They are, but I was a late-in-life baby. They’re quite elderly. Yours? I came to learn about you.”
“In a bit.” She waves off my question. “So you’re caring for your brother because your parents can’t?”
“Precisely.”
“No other siblings?”
Not anymore, and not for anything will I dredge up that terrible story. “No. You? Any siblings?”
“Only child. Stop changing the subject,” she admonishes, opening a jar. “Mustard?”
“Please. I really want?—”
“How much older is your brother?”
Three hundred sixty-seven years, but I doubt she’ll take that information well. “More than a decade.”
“Significant, then. Tell me more about his illness.”
“Lucan is unconscious. The doctors have little idea how to help him since the onset of this illness was so sudden. And when did ‘getting to know you’ become the Inquisition?”
“Since I decided to figure you out.”
As Sydney spreads mustard on brown bread, I ease up behind her, place my hands on her hips and whisper against her neck, “I’m here to get to know you.”
With a saucy tilt of her head, she shoots me a glance over her shoulder. “All right. As I’ve said, no siblings. My parents are both professors. My mother teaches history at Oxford. My father once taught, but now conducts very important research to help create a purely artificial fuel source.”
At my grimace, Sydney laughs. “You asked.”
“They sound very serious, indeed.”
“You have no idea. Even more so in person, I assure you.”
Something on her face gives me pause. “And are they supportive of your career?”
“I’m a bitter disappointment, and they remind me of that every time I see them.”
Though Sydney answers laughingly, the pain on her face is unmistakable. She’s hurt by their lack of support. Their lack of faith in her. It’s foolish and dangerous, but I ease my arms around her and bring her as close against me as I dare.
“I think you’re brilliant, and I have no doubt that someday you’ll be wildly famous for doing exactly what you love.”
“Flattery?” She doesn’t sound impressed.
“No,” I assure her. Sydney wowed me from her very first story. Though she knows nothing about magickind, she’s somehow caught onto its nuances, including what’s important to the warring factions. “Honesty.”
Resisting the impulse to kiss is killing me. It’s all I can do not to grab her, taste her plump, pink mouth, and ravish her… Yet I’m equally tempted to simply take her hand and tell her how bloody brilliant I think she is.
Damn my magical impulses for dangling this temptation in front of me and making her so forbidden. If she is, as I suspect, the mate magic intends for me?—
No, I can’t even consider that, or I’ll go mad.
The reality is, despite my best intentions and all my objections, I’ve been dragged deep into this magical war. Not only do I want to avoid Lucan’s fate, but I don’t want Sydney in danger. If I kiss her and succumb to the urge to Call to her… I can’t bear the thought that, instead of reporting about a woman who was terrorized by Mathias, she might actually become one.
“Are you going to stare at my mouth all day or kiss me?”
I back away. “We’re taking it slow, remember? Let me help with lunch.”
She sighs and turns back to making sandwiches. “There are clementines and crisps in the cupboard.”
After retrieving them, I turn to find Sydney setting up the little bistro-style table in her kitchen. She grabs two plates piled high with lettuce and fresh tomato. I hold out her chair. Sydney raises a brow at me but sits.
“So…” I slide into the opposite chair and take control of the conversation before she can start interrogating me again. “Your parents don’t love what you’ve chosen to do with your life. My guess is that you work very hard to be the best and hope they will someday recognize your genius.”
“Something like that. Though I know I can’t live to please them."
“But you hate to disappoint them, right?”
She swallows her bite of sandwich and peers across the table at me. “You came to get to know me, yet clearly you already do. Perhaps we skip the rest of this silly ‘getting to know you’ crap and go straight to bed?”