Chapter 34 Nova
NOVA
Looking at the clock, my pulse kicked hard. One beat, then another, then the oh-shit frantic rhythm that meant Ezra was going to skin me alive.
I swept the hair out of my face and flung the covers off, but before I could escape, an arm tightened around my waist and reeled me back to a cool chest that smelled of warm spices and grapefruit.
“Where you going?” Conrad mumbled, his voice thick and raspy, the kind that almost made me melt straight back into bed with him.
“I have to go,” I whispered, already sliding my leg out of Deslen’s loose hold and easing it up and over Nick’s stomach. Four bodies in one bed was comfortable last night, but it made for a hazardous morning.
Conrad let out a soft, needy whine. “Come back. Work will still be there later.”
His fingers curled around my torso, but I peeled them off one by one, pressing a kiss to each of his knuckles. His sleepy smile loosened, head dropping back to the pillow. Good. Perfect. Now I just needed to—
I attempted one heroic leap over Nick, but one foot got snagged by the sheet. My arms windmilled. Disaster loomed with me crashing down on a pile of supernaturals, or worse, kicking Nick into oblivion.
A familiar tattooed arm shot out and caught me, setting me upright with surprising gentleness. A coffee cup appeared in my hand like a peace offering, and I stared into a set of green-blue eyes I'd lost myself in a time or two.
Zeth.
My thumb brushed against the ink on his forearm—the Syndicate mark. A memory of the day he’d gotten it tugged at me, the way he’d gritted his teeth and sworn it didn’t hurt. Swore his loyalty to my family… and me.
“She has a meeting,” he murmured for the benefit of those groaning in bed.
I caught the smirk on his face before he dipped his nose into the crook of my neck and inhaled deep, his hands already flirting with the waistband of my shorts.
The tobacco and cherry scent of him slid right under my skin, and I leaned into it without thinking.
Wanting more of him, all of him, now that he was mine.
Before I could put the mug down and jump his bones, he smacked my ass sharply enough to jolt my brain back online.
“Ezra hates it when anyone is late,” he reminded me. “Remember when Aniyah was two minutes behind because her dancer went missing?”
I winced. Ezra’s lecture had lasted longer than the dancer’s entire contract. Unity. Control. Punctuality. Respect. I didn't want to hear that again, let alone have it directed at me. I launched myself out of the room and toward my office.
“Nova!” Zeth called from my bedroom door.
I turned just in time for a shirt to hit my face. “Probably don’t wanna show up like that.”
I looked down at a set of bare tits.
…Right. No shirt. Oops.
Trying to keep my coffee steady, I yanked the shirt on with one hand before sprinting down the hallway. An urge hit me, sharp and impossible to ignore, as I saw him leaning against the doorway, smiling at me.
I didn’t have time. I shouldn’t. But…
He’s my mate. I get to want him. For once in your life… live a little, Nova.
Setting the coffee down, I crossed the hallway in three quick bounds, hooked one arm around his neck, and gave him the kiss I’d been wanting to for over six years.
He responded immediately. Groaning into my mouth, his hands explored my body, touching as much as he could as he slid them beneath the shirt. I hitched a leg around him, and his hand cupped my breast, playing with my nipple in a way that made my breath stumble.
The sudden pinch of his fingers made me gasp, then melt. His eyes drank me in. Every flinch, every breath, guided me without a word, pulling me along for the head-spinning ride.
When his other hand went into my shorts, his thumb circling my clit, the world snapped white. I bit off a cry that still escaped as a shaky, breathless prayer of his name.
I sagged into him, my forehead on his, a plea just a breath away. Zeth lifted his fingers to his mouth and tasted me with slow, deliberate swipes of his tongue. I watched helplessly, entranced and greedy enough to consider risking Ezra’s wrath.
“You’re already gonna be late,” he teased against my lips, his voice edged with a real warning.
He was right. Damn him for being good at his job.
I tore myself away before my self-control combusted, sprinted to my office, dropped into my chair, and flicked on the receiver.
My siblings’ faces blinked into focus.
“Ooooh, Nova is…” Aniyah checked her watch with theatrical horror. “Three minutes late! Shame corner! Shame corner!” She pointed somewhere off screen like a game-show host.
“Aniyah.” Ezra’s voice sliced cleanly through her laughter.
“I’m sure Nova has a perfectly good reason for being late to a meeting that has been the same time for five years.
The meeting in which we discuss the Syndicate’s stability.
Where we meet as equals with respect and loyalty.
The meeting that strengthens our unified front. Correct, Nova?”
Her words were a sugar-coated blade, and the hit made me flinch. I’d seen it coming. Still hurt.
“I’m sorry,” I said, my breath still uneven. “Last night wrecked me. But I’m ready. I’ll walk you through everything.”
Ezra didn’t speak. She didn’t have to. Her glare was a scalpel, and I was the flesh waiting to be carved into, but she gave one sharp nod. My chest rose and fell with relief that she wasn’t grilling me now… but that didn't mean I was safe from later.
I proceeded to lay out the night piece by piece: the bank, the cultish fairy girl with pupils too wide to be sane, the demon carving air with fae-forged blades, the underground lab that smelled like fear and chemicals.
The doctor. His words, his experiments, the way he’d broken when I finally ended him.
With every detail, a shadow crawled deeper across my siblings’ faces. Their projections flickered in the air, but the static heat rising off them felt real, like the first exhale before a wildfire.
“Supe eyes on a human.” Aniyah’s upper lip curled. “Wannabe trash.”
Calix leaned forward, brain already in gear.
“Interesting,” he muttered, rubbing his chin.
“The one at Aniyah’s place was like a sleeper agent—mixed bloodline, probably meant to pass unnoticed.
But the one Nova fought?” He tapped a pen hard against the desk.
“Almost like a soldier class. Powered up by that substance. Created to hit hard but not sustain over time.”
His gaze snapped downward, and he started scribbling like a man possessed.
Ezra’s smirk was small, eyes glinting in thought. “Revolution, hmm?” She reclined in her chair, unbothered in the way only someone who thrived on war could be. The others looked ready to hunt someone down; she looked ready to play chess with their bones.
Riot tilted her head. “You said the doctor mentioned something—Morte?”
I nodded. “He said, ‘Morte doesn’t let us go… not until everything burns, and we begin again.’”
Aniyah’s eyes narrowed, fox-sharp. “Leader? Group? Anyone heard the name?”
We shook our heads in a silent, unified admission. We were staring at a ghost of a person with a grudge.
“One thing’s clear,” I said. “We’re the finale. Whoever they are, they want everyone else handled before they come for us. I just don't know who everyone else is.”
“Then we have time,” Ezra cut in, eyes bright with something almost predatory. “Calix. Weapons. New ones. Ones no one’s ever seen.”
Calix pointed at his temple, grinning wild. “Already got blueprints screaming in here.”
“Good.” Ezra’s tone became iron. “Stay alert. Someone around us is feeding them information. Inside eyes are always the first move in war. Keep everything quiet. People know we’re strong, but I won’t have them knowing how strong.”
The humor slipped away. Her gaze swept across all of us, and, for a moment, the room felt smaller than the threat.
“We are going to war,” she said, her voice cold enough to sharpen steel. “Not if—when. Fortify your territories. Train your people. Build your strike teams. It will get bloody before it gets clean.”
A smile tugged at my mouth. There she was. The monster we needed. The one who didn’t believe in losing, not because she was arrogant, but because she’d never even entertain the idea. We were Syndicate, and we’d never back down to an enemy.
“Whatever you say, E. We’ve got you,” Calix said without looking up, his pen still dancing over his page.
Riot nodded once. Silent, deadly, absolute.
Aniyah’s grin was practically feral. “Let’s paint the streets with their blood.”
“My people are yours,” I said, and I meant it.
My thoughts drifted to those men still in my bed, my mates, and my chest ached.
They’d never let me walk into fire alone.
I couldn't help wanting this war to leave them untouched, but it also didn’t matter what I wanted.
If they were Syndicate, they would be in the fight, just like me, and they were my mates, which meant they were undeniably Syndicate.
Ezra’s attention shifted. “Calix. Progress on the fae blade?”
Calix dragged a hand through his hair, the universal sign of nearing burnout.
“Yes and no. The blade’s powerful. Testing confirms it.
But the power source? How the enchantment binds?
Not sure yet. Similar to rune work… but not exactly.
” He sighed. “Avery had no idea, but that was also him trying to examine it over the phone. Papu Syris is coming to see it in person.”
“Good,” Ezra said. “We need that edge. It’s their trump card. If they pair it with something worse, we’re facing a disaster before the first wave even hits.”
“I’ll crack it,” Calix said, and he meant it. The fire in his eyes could melt metal.
Ezra nodded once. “With the antidote Calix made and Nova’s person as proof of its effectiveness, we now have a counter-agent for their other advantage. Even if the doctor managed to send the formula to someone else, we have a way to neutralize it. Thank you both.”