Page 63 of Veiled Yearning

So this time we’re sitting side-by-side on the couch; with just Frederick in the room along with us. My arm is wrapped around Chiara, hugging her to me protectively. Her face is pale and strained; I know she’s putting pressure on herself already, taking on all the responsibility of this going right.

“Gorgeous,” I murmur, keeping my voice low enough that Frederick can’t hear us. “Whatever happens, it’s fine. If it doesn’t work, we’ll figure something else out. Okay?”

She stares at me for a second before exhaling a shaky sigh. “Okay.” A pause, and then, “I’m sorry, Gav. I know I’m making this more difficult for you. For everyone. I don’t mean to.”

“You’re not. I promise.”

Frederick echoes my statement, giving Chiara a kind smile before saying, “It’s fine, Chiara. Whatever happens, it happens. No pressure.”

A tiny snort slips out, and she makes a face at Frederick before saying dryly. “Sure. No pressure.” Then she sets her shoulders and faces me. Her hand slips into mine. “Let’s try this.”

And this time, it works. Our hands entwined, gazes locked together, unspoken emotions exchanged. All the love I feel for her overflowing. My body, my energy, the very essence of me reaching for her.

The fire builds, crescendoing.

It’s this incredible, momentous feeling. Like when I’m linked with Chiara, we could do anything.

When the energy becomes too much for both of us to hold, that’s when we redirect it.

It’s an indescribable sensation; this powerful, concentrated energy coming back into me. Searing. Turning my body electric.

As it happens, I focus on a Custodian—one I know to be a close ally of Nicolas.

Even while I hope it works, I also hope it doesn’t. I don’t want this special connection with Chiara to be tainted by anything to do with Nicolas.

For a second, there’s nothing. Just me casting out into the ether, searching for one man’s face. A second when I think it won’t work, and I’m not really upset about it.

But then it does. The living room disappears. And I’m thrust into another vision.

It’s the man I was looking for. Linus. Blonde. Tall. A rat-like face with beady eyes and a permanently sneering mouth.

He’s in a study, the walls lined with bookshelves that stretch to the ceiling. Old books fill the shelves, all of them faded and dusty. Heavy curtains cover the windows, casting the room in darkness, save for a sliver of light filtering between them.

Linus stands before an imposing desk, his gaze fixed on the man in front of him.

Nicolas.

The one behind all the deaths and horrific acts. The one who ordered Chiara’s torture.

Rage surges forward, threatening to rip me out of the vision.

But I need this. We need this. I haven’t seen Nicolas in months, and this could be the key that we need.

“They’re not running,” Linus says with a frown. “We thought after capturing one of theirs, the Sentinels would retreat.”

Leaning forward, Nicolas pins Linus with a dark stare. “They might have. If we hadn’t lost him. How did the Sentinels know where we were holding him?”

“I don’t know. As far as I knew, the Custodians were holding him in the basement of an old farmhouse. The Watcher shouldn’t have been able to determine the location.”

“I don’t like it.” Nicolas thumps his hand on the desk, scowling. “The Sentinels have something we don’t know about.” Suspicion tightens his features, and his voice sharpens. “Is there something you’re keeping from me?”

Linus hurries to respond. “No. Nothing. I’ve had Marcellus searching for the Sentinels, but they’re all hidden.” A pause. “It’s that woman. I know it is. She’s behind it somehow.”

“Not the woman. Chiara. And I wouldn’t doubt it. I have a feeling she’s even more powerful than I thought.” His eyes narrow speculatively. “That’s why we need her. And I’m getting tired of waiting.”

“We’ll find her. I swear it.”

Nicolas’s tone dips dangerously. “As my second in command, I thought I could count on you. Was I wrong?”

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