Chapter 7
Walking along the pathway from DART’s Harrowgate, lit by holiday lanterns that made the walled courtyard festive, Stryke tried to quell his nerves. He was rarely nervous and couldn’t even remember the last time he’d so much as felt a stirring of anxiety. But right now, as he stood at DART’s private side entrance, his gut roiled and twisted, and sweat made his palms clammy.
Fuck this shit. He’d made dictators and demons alike shake in their boots. He could handle an hour of cake, champagne, and hostile stares.
Inhaling deeply, he shoved his unease aside and opened the door.
The cheerful sounds of music, clinking dishes, and laughter drifted down the narrow hallway from the building’s main-floor lobby. All office doors were closed, but ahead, a crowd gathered near a buffet table loaded with food and a punch bowl. More people stood at round tables, drinks in hand, smiling and chatting while classic 2030s music played in the background. In the center of the lobby, in front of the fountain, a five-tiered pink-and-silver cake decorated with Runa’s name waited to be cut.
As much as he despised parties, he was happy to see such extravagance in honor of his mother.
He stepped out of the hallway, and everyone went so instantly silent he thought a switch had been thrown.
He was used to being stared at. Females gazed at him with lust, and males watched him with envy. The rich and powerful observed him with calculating eyes. Intelligent people regarded him warily. Generally, he ignored it all.
But not this time. This time, he was acutely aware of every eye in the room tracking him. Their stares burned into his skin. Most of these people knew of him, but he doubted they understood his history with his family. Those people gawked.
But those who knew…
Shit.
He walked past Rade and Blade without sparing them a glance, but the heat of Blade’s dark eyes left scorch marks on the back of Stryke’s skull. It was different with Rade, though. His stare caused frostbite.
Stomach churning, Stryke swiped a glass of champagne off a server’s tray and downed it in a single gulp, washing away the taste of the current pop song. He freaking hated bell peppers. Why did music always taste like things he hated? Just once, couldn’t a song taste like a chocolate truffle? As he went to replace the empty flute with a fresh one, he froze.
Cyan .
She stood near the fountain, laughing with a male in well-worn jeans and a black sports coat.
Parker .
Her plum dress hugged her curves from mid-thigh to her full breasts, then wrapped around her shoulders and throat in delicate straps—straps Parker was probably fantasizing about biting through.
She looked incredible, her short, platinum hair styled in spikes that suited her personality and made her violet eyes seem even bigger. That female was a menace to all things male, and when Parker leaned in to whisper something in her ear, those gemstone eyes flashed with amusement. She’d liked whatever dumb thing he’d probably said.
Not that Stryke gave a flying fuck about the males she hung out with. But, man…she was so unbelievably gorgeous. Stryke slowed, curious about the state of Cyan and Parker’s relationship, even though he didn’t care. He really didn’t.
But then, a few feet away, he caught sight of his mom. He drew in a quick breath, his palms growing damp with nerves and anticipation. Runa was stunning in a black cocktail dress, her caramel hair twisted into a loose braid that hung over her shoulder and partially blocked the dermoire that identified her as Shade’s mate. She looked like a queen, standing there with his father by her side. Stryke hadn’t seen his mother in years, and he suddenly felt like a naughty schoolboy waiting at the headmaster’s office for a parent to pick him up.
He’d been there too many times to count. For some reason, his “ smart mouth and arrogance ” got him into a lot of trouble when he was a kid. People got so offended when you pointed out how stupid they were. Facts were pesky things.
Time seemed to stop as she hurried over, her eyes misty and a smile trembling on her lips. He wasn’t sure what to do, say, or feel after so much time apart, but his body knew. It craved a mother’s comfort, and he instinctively opened his arms to her.
“I can’t believe it.” She hugged him close, the way she used to do when he was little. “I’m so glad you’re here.”
His father came up behind her and mouthed, “ Thank you .”
Runa’s warmth flowed through him, and he forgot all the turmoil—both around him…and inside him. All at once, he was young again, but a youth whose mom was proud, and he surrendered to the solace only a mother’s embrace could deliver. For a precious moment, nothing but the familiar scent of her favorite Chanel perfume and the soft sound of her breathing existed. Peace filled his heart and head. Closing his eyes, he let himself sink into the first moment of serenity he’d known in years.
In the background, people began talking again, and soft laughter floated in the air. There was so much joy here. So much love for the woman who had given him and his brothers life.
But reality came crashing back all too soon. His mom pulled away to look up at him with a tender smile. She rested her warm palm on his cheek, her eyes locked on his.
“I love you so much,” she said softly. “You don’t know how much this means to me. I’d have a birthday party every day if it meant I could see you more often.”
He didn’t know how to respond, so he just pulled a wrapped box from his jacket pocket and handed it to her. “I brought you a gift.”
“Weird.” Blade’s deep voice came from behind him. “I didn’t see a celebrity news story about you traipsing through Harrod’s or some ritzy shop in Paris.”
Stryke’s jaw went tight at Blade’s not-so-subtle implication that Stryke hadn’t picked out the gift himself. He had picked it out. He’d just sent Leilani Giada to get it. The daughter of the Horseman known as Famine, Leilani had charm and badass fighting skills, perfect for picking up merch from angels willing to bend the rules.
“Blade, why don’t you f—?” Stryke forced himself to shut up. If they’d been anywhere but their mother’s birthday party, Stryke would’ve happily finished that sentence. Sensing trouble, Shade stepped between them, his big body separating Stryke and Blade without a word.
Runa tugged at the ribbon and then carefully unwrapped the package. When she lifted the top of the little box, she gasped. “Stryke. Is this…is it what I think it is?”
“If you think it’s a golden pearl from the Heavenly Sea of Tranquility, then yes.” He plucked the ultrafine but unbreakable gold chain from its bed of spun silk and held the necklace up so he could fasten it around her neck.
Grinning, she lifted her braid and turned around. “It’s stunning.”
“It’ll protect you from psychic attacks and repel fallen angels.” He fastened the clasp, and she spun back to him, beaming.
“I love it.” Her fingers skimmed over the cool metal links and the gleaming surface of the pearl. “Should I even ask how you got it?”
Powerful beings owed him a lot of favors. “You probably shouldn’t.”
Behind him, he heard Blade’s quiet snort. Once again, Stryke held himself in check.
Still stroking the necklace, his mother smiled up at him. “I saw on the news that you donated a billion dollars’ worth of playground equipment to elementary schools around the world. That was very generous.”
“Kids need to play.” And they needed to be safe, so all the equipment was enchanted to repel evil. Unfortunately, many schools had refused his gift, afraid it was some sort of deception. Some went so far as to decline his monetary donations as well, citing fears of using funds from a demon.
A slew of newcomers made their way into the room, and gasps rose up as one of the world’s most famous pop stars, Grace Obert, crossed the floor, flanked by an entourage of at least a dozen.
Kynan sidled up to Runa. “Shade told me Grace was your favorite artist,” he said to her. “We handled a demon ex-boyfriend problem for her, and she wanted to pay me back. So, I called in a favor.”
“Lots of favors being called in, just for you,” Shade said to her, his gaze so full of affection that Stryke felt a pang of…something deep in his chest.
“I can’t believe it,” Runa breathed. “This is all so amazing.”
Stryke backed away, melting into the background as Grace approached. He’d met the human female at a couple of fund-raising and award galas and had turned down her advances more than once. He didn’t want to take any attention away from his mother.
So, as a crowd gathered around, he made his escape, glad to have any and all focus centered elsewhere. He beelined for the exit, but a voice stopped him in his tracks.
“Stryke?”
Stryke’s little brother, Crux, called out his name as he exited the restroom, his big eyes, the same pale champagne color as their mother’s, as round as saucers.
“You’re here!” Crux ran at him like a yearling colt—all long, gangly limbs—and engulfed him in a hug as tight as their mother’s had been. “You came!”
He pulled back, grinning from ear to ear. The kid was nearly as tall as Stryke, but hadn’t transitioned yet, so he was bony and thin. And as innocent as the day he and Chaos were born.
“Yeah, I came,” Stryke said on a ragged breath. “I’m surprised to see you here, though. I didn’t think most people at DART knew about you.”
“We’re telling everyone I’m Kynan’s nephew.”
That made sense. Plus, Crux’s long sleeves and turtleneck kept most of his dermoire hidden so no one would know he was a pre-transition Seminus demon. His birth during a time when no demons were being born would cause too much attention and suspicion.
“So,” Crux said, “does this mean you’re back? We’ll see you more? You should come to the house! We can have dinner. Rade is a really good cook. He took lessons from Suzanne! You know, the star of An Angel in the Kitchen ? Have you had his chili? He says it’ll make you piss fire and like it.” He shrugged as if confused. “I’m not sure about the fire part, but I do like it.”
Fuck. This was what he’d been afraid of. “Crux, I’m just here to see Mom. This doesn’t change anything.”
But wait, Rade had taken cooking lessons? From one of the Grim Reaper’s daughters?
“Yes, it does,” Crux insisted. “You’ll see. If we all just try to get along—”
“No,” Stryke said roughly, his voice so clogged with emotion he barely got the word out. Seeing Crux, knowing that Chaos would have looked the same…pain shredded his insides and turned the glass of champagne into acid that threatened to come back up. “No.” He tempered his voice. “Not right now. I have a lot of work to do. I’m very busy at StryTech—”
“That’s always your excuse,” Crux blurted, a rare show of anger that put red blotches on his pale cheeks. “And it’s bullshit.”
Yeah, it was. But the truth wasn’t an option. How was he supposed to tell Crux—or anyone—that he couldn’t face the damage he’d caused? That the best way to make up for the past was through his company. He’d built StryTech to right his wrongs and help prevent other families from going through what his had.
Oh, and also to assuage his guilt.
Not that it worked. But at least it kept his mind busy instead of it spinning out of control.
“Crux, I’m sorry.” I’m so sorry I’ve been a shitty brother . “How about I send you one of our brand-new drones?”
Crux’s thin shoulders rolled in a half-hearted shrug. “Sure. That’d be okay, I guess.”
“Great.” He gestured down the hall, eager to see his brother perk up. “You should check out who just got here. I think you’re all about to get a private concert.”
“Really?” Crux craned his neck to peek behind Stryke. “Who is it?”
“Grace Obert.”
“No way!” Crux practically bounced on his toes. “I gotta go see. You’ll be here later?”
Stryke gave a noncommittal smile. “If you hurry, you can get Grace’s autograph before she starts.”
“That would be awesome!”
Crux took off like a puppy whose owner had just come home. Stryke’s knees nearly gave out. He had to get some air. Needed to get away from all the…emotion.
He started down the hallway he’d used to come in and, wouldn’t you know it, he nearly crashed into Logan, who was exiting the break room with a bowl of chips.
“Oh, hey, Stryke.” Logan gestured toward the party. “Glad you made it.”
“Sure, you are.”
Logan punched him in the shoulder hard enough to hurt. “Don’t be a dick. I just started liking you again. Well, liking you for the first time.”
“I don’t need you to like me.”
Logan cursed under his breath and inhaled deeply as if trying to keep his temper in check. “I never got a chance to properly thank you for everything you did for Cujo and Eva.” His voice was gruff with the effort it took to be nice. He reminded Stryke of a kid forced to apologize to another after a fight.
The air between them crackled as they stood there. After so many years of an antagonistic relationship with Logan, Stryke wasn’t sure how to process anything else. Especially when he was out of his element and so off balance after seeing his parents and Crux.
Finally, he managed a shallow nod. “Happy to help. Now, if you’ll excuse me, I have to go.”
He practically ran to the exit and plowed through the door.
The air was cool and fresh, and he gulped in frantic lungfuls as he stumbled outside and braced himself on the railing that separated the patio area from the Harrowgate built into the tall stone wall.
Shit, he needed to go. He couldn’t deal with this. He could leave and then send a message that he’d had to attend to some kind of emergency. Everyone would believe that.
Yeah, that sounded like a plan.
He eyed the shimmering curtain that defined the arched entrance to the Harrowgate. It was only a few yards away. He just needed a minute for his heart to stop convulsing and his stomach to stop heaving as if he’d been running from a demon.
Which struck him as absurdly funny because he was running from a demon.
He was running from himself.
Cyan loved a good party, and this one beat them all as far as birthday bashes went. Grace Obert? Wow. The global superstar had won every major music award multiple times and had branched out to acting as well. And here she was performing a private concert.
Very cool.
A server passed with a loaded tray of frothy, sparkly pink drinks piled high with whipped cream—apparently, one of Runa’s favorite frou-frou cocktails. Cyan waved him off, preferring less sweet, Barbie-puked-in-a-glass types of beverages. She liked her alcohol the way she liked her men.
Strong, hard, and no-nonsense.
Males like Rade and Kynan.
And Stryke .
Ugh, no. He might be her type in theory, but she didn’t like him.
A vampire who had hit on her earlier scowled as he walked past, and no, she didn’t like him, either. They’d been having a nice time, chatting about his job as a phlebotomist at Underworld General, and then he’d had to go and ruin it by asking if she wanted to experience his blood-letting skills. With his teeth. In her femoral artery. As if she’d allow a complete stranger to pierce a vital artery with anything, let alone fangs.
Idiot. She’d been so glad when Parker saved her from further conversation with the jackass.
She watched the vamp disappear around the corner with a human DART agent who worked in finance, so it looked like he was going to get a little suck and fuck after all.
As for Stryke…she had no idea where he’d gone. She’d noticed his arrival, how devastatingly hot he was in a fitted black suit, black shirt, and a blood-red tie. Every female who recognized him had probably creamed themselves as he strode toward his parents, his long, smooth strides effortlessly eating up the floor.
He’d been as hard to read as his brother Rade. Blade, on the other hand, reminded her of a simmering pot of hot water.
“Cyan.”
She turned to her boss, looking as handsome as ever in a pair of slacks and an untucked blue dress shirt that matched his eyes. “Kynan.”
“I’m glad you came.” He gestured to the waiting area, a small alcove just off the lobby. “Got a minute? We haven’t had a chance to talk about how things are going at StryTech.”
She nodded as they stepped a little outside the clamor of voices and music. “Stryke is an ass, but his team is competent. We’ve already designed a microchip we think can hold the type of guidance weave I would need to inject into it.”
“Excellent,” Kynan said, his raspy, battle-damaged voice sounding impressed. “Good work. That’ll speed up the expected timeline.”
“ If it actually works,” she said. Nothing ever came together effortlessly, which was why, when she prepared time estimates for any project, she added a twenty-percent cushion. “We still have a long way to go. Right now, we don’t know if we can design a weapon that’ll hold multiple projectiles. If we can figure it out, we’re still probably looking at several years of research and development.”
Years of working at StryTech.
Kynan clapped her on the shoulder. “If anyone can do it, it’s you.”
She appreciated the vote of confidence, but until the Reaper was thoroughly tested, she wouldn’t get too excited about it.
“We’ll see.”
“Always the cynical one.” Dropping his hand back to his side, he nodded at Blade as the demon walked past, headed toward the Harrowgate yard exit like he was on a mission.
“Keep me up to date,” Kynan said. “And let me know if we can help from this end.”
“I will.”
Kynan took off in the direction of his wife, Gem, who was laughing at a table with her sister, Tayla, and the newest addition to DART, Logan’s fiancée, Eva. It had taken Cyan time to warm up to the ex-Aegi, but the human had grown on her. Cyan liked her straightforward personality and reserved but friendly nature.
Cyan contemplated getting a drink and joining them, but her species had naturally hyper-sensitive hearing, and the noise was getting to her. In truth, she longed for the quiet solitude of her workspace.
She supposed she should visit the lab…to make sure everything was in order, of course.
Glad for a made-up excuse to escape the party for a while, she started for the comfort of her lab. Oh, how she’d missed it—
What the—?
She halted in front of a window, stopped in her tracks by the sight of Stryke—head bowed, chest heaving, his big body casting a tall shadow on the courtyard flagstones next to the Harrowgate.
Gods, she despised him. And yet, as he stood there alone, fists clenched, there was a vulnerability about him that was completely unexpected. He seemed…sad. No, it was more than that. Something else. But she couldn’t put her finger on it.
Not that it mattered. She didn’t care.
But she did feel like a bit of a creeper, standing there staring at him while he clearly wanted to be alone.
Then, the door to the courtyard burst open, and he was no longer alone.
But by the expression on Blade’s face, that definitely wasn’t a good thing.