At nineteen, not long after the Containment Zone’s First Breach, she’d first heard about the dramatic drop in real estate prices there. No one wanted to live where zombies might once again slaughter everyone in horrific fashion, and all the poor murdered Zone residents had left behind a glut of empty homes and apartments.
That cursed bull’s-eye of bloodshed in northern Virginia was maybe the one place in America with such low rental costs near such an enormous population center. If she couldn’t find clients within the Zone, she could always venture into the DC area, and surely at least a few of the strangers there might findsomeworth in what little she could offer them?
“I moved to Zone C about nineteen years ago, and I’ve lived there ever since.” When she lifted a shoulder, it trapped his hand against her jaw. Like an unconventional hug. “Just like when I was at Delphi Academy, living so far away makes staying in close contact with my family difficult. So no, other than reassuring them as to my safety”—since news of the second breach was surely spreading across the nation even now—“I don’t intend to tell them anything, and they certainly won’t ask.”
Once a year, a birthday card arrived in the mail from her mom, and her parents and siblings called her on Christmas and New Year’s. Otherwise, her contact with them was limited to infrequent texts and social media posts, and she’d stopped hoping for more long ago.
“I’m sorry.” He dropped his right arm and clasped both her hands in his, his grip sure and hot and protective, and she held on tight. “Familial relationships can be difficult, I know.”
Her lips quirked. “Well, even if we were closer, it’s not as if I would just hop on a call and tell them all about a conspiracy-in-progress, then detail our secret plans to derail that conspiracy.”
The lines at the corners of his eyes deepened with his amused expression. “Fair point.”
His thumb idly traced the curving lines on her palm and brushed against the pulse in her wrist, and if she didn’t distract herself with logistics and plotting, she was going to tackle him on that bougie sofa and defile it permanently.
“Speaking of our secret plans…” Oh, gods, what were those plans again? She could barely manage to think over the lust-drunk buzz in her brain. “Who, if anyone, can you consult about the conspiracy? We don’t know who can be trusted within the human government. Even in SERC circles, almost anyone you talk to might be tied to the fae in some unknown way.”
The haziness of his gaze sharpened at that. “Good question.”
She couldn’t help it. She wiggled the tiniest bit in delight at the praise, and he actually grinned as he raised her hand to his lips for a quick kiss.
Her heart turned over at the gesture—and even more so at thesightof him.
While frowning, he possessed a cool sort of angular elegance. But when he smiled like that? Dear heavens. His pale moon abruptly transformed into the midday sun, blazing with warmth and light.
“I don’t know how it’s possible,” he murmured, face still creased in an affectionate smile, “but you’re even more adorable now than you were at eighteen.”
Hugh Blacke didn’t need demonic power to turn her inside out and set her aflame. A simple smile and a single complimenthad done the trick, no molecular manipulation necessary. She swayed toward him, unable to resist his draw any longer.
Sudden sultry heat blasted from his lean body as he slowly lowered his head, his intent gaze lingering on her mouth.
Her lips parted as his head tipped to just the right angle. Their noses softly brushed.
And when his apartment’s doorbell rang, the two of them nearly knocked foreheads.
“Who…” Breathless, witless, she drew back and stared toward the entry in confusion. “Who could that be?”
Hugh stood with clear reluctance. “The answer to your earlier question.”
“Huh?” She blinked at him. “What earlier question?”
She’d been speaking? Why, when she could have been kissing Hugh instead?
“Our investigation is a need-to-know operation, obviously.” He headed for the door. “The fewer participants the better. With one exception: Thora Creekwood. I asked her to visit here this afternoon.”
Who the hells was Thora Creekwood? And why had she arrived right when Gwen was finally about to make out with Hugh for real?
With a sigh, Gwen rose from the couch too.
“Gods, I need cheese,” she muttered, and followed Hugh to greet the smooch-blocker.
13
Thora Creekwood, as it turned out, was a gorgeous half-fae, half-human Hugh employed as an informant. A stunningly statuesque SERC spy whose crucial work helped the entire world.
From what Max had told Gwen and their zombie-battling neighbors earlier that week, many fae disliked cooperating with humans and other Supernaturals. As did many vampires and a not-insignificant proportion of all other species. It wasn’t an unusual sentiment. But among a small, secretive faction of powerful fae, that resentment had hardened into resolve. Determined to wield the power they considered rightfully theirs, they wanted out from under SERC’s thumb by any means necessary. Including—maybe even especially—violence.
Because SERC didn’t want to fracture their uneasy peace with common humans, those problematic fae circles weren’t common knowledge, even among other Supernaturals. The Councilmight silently dispatch assassins to track down and eliminate any fae credibly accused of crimes against humans, but publicly, they made no mention of the insurrectionist ferment. Especially since the head of the Council, Tanielle Beech, could apparently get touchy about any accusations against members of her species that weren’t accompanied by large amounts of unimpeachable proof. None of her fellow councilors wanted to make enemies of the cunning, powerful fae elites either, unless there was absolutely no other choice.
