Page 4 of Above Cursed Winds

Moments later, Jeremiah solidified in the foyer of Nina’s Lexington mansion, fighting the dizziness that pinged within him. He’d readily chose flying under the power of his element any day over this. A wave of nausea settled in his gut, threatening to expel nonexistent food from a stomach twisted in knots.

Luxurious, modern, and entirely too ostentatious for Jeremiah’s taste, the foyer looked like it belonged in a magazine, complete with the grand marble staircase leading to what he knew was a well-outfitted second story.

Conversation had halted the moment they arrived. Glancing around, Jeremiah saw the tension on the faces of those assembled. Immortals from every race were gathered in Nina’s foyer, apparently waiting for his tardy appearance.

Three years ago, when Jeremiah, Rukia, and Gideon had attended the initial peace talks, the trio had stayed here on Nina’s goodwill. Their host, a neutral party for the initial Accords discussions and their moderator thereafter, was unique—an immortal of two breeds.

Both Raeth and vampire, Nina had sired the first vampiric fledglings and continued to reign over the largest clan of Raeths. No other immortal combined the gifts of two immortal species, and no one could match her innate strength.

Like Rukia, Nina had just given birth, in her case to twins. The younglings, now all just over six months, were a product of the Raeth mating period known as the Heat.

It was the main reason for the turmoil written across the faces of immortals from every breed. Children were precious, regardless of their mortality or immortality.

But the Citizens wouldn’t see it that way. To them, an immortal was an abomination; whether they had taken their first step or not was immaterial.

Rukia stalked forward to square off with him. “Where were you? You weren’t at home or in the office, and we couldn’t find you. We had no idea if you were okay or not.”

“I was in Iowa City.”

Her eye twitched as she reached up to yank the price tag off his hideous yellow shirt. “And you decided to do some shopping while we feared you were dead?”

“I wasn’t planning on company, nor on being rudely awoken from a rather peaceful nap.” The lie rolled easily off his tongue.

Aidan, an ancient werewolf alpha, gave him a glare from where he stood beside his powerful Elemental mate, Lucy. Having lived through twelve centuries, he rivaled Isaiah in strength, and the furious predator beneath his skin shone in Aidan’s tangerine-colored eyes.

Beside them stood Drake, the figurehead of the vampire nation. Toni, his wife, was the only fire Elemental in their nation. It’d been nearly four years since they’d met, and Paracel had been forced out of its self-imposed secrecy. They were the couple who’d started this—and the ones who continued to break down barriers toward lasting peace.

Isaiah had taken his place by Rukia, her Japanese features mirroring his own. Neither of them held Isaak, but Jeremiah wasn’t surprised. There were many people at their home in Utah that’d clamor for the chance to babysit the bubbly baby.

Jeremiah could feel the weight of Gideon’s ever-watchful gaze fixed on him, even as his monarch drew his wife closer to his side.

The last immortals in the room were Lucius and Circe. Nearly the tallest man there, the vampire’s kind smile offered him the only warm greeting. If anyone had borne the brunt of the Citizen’s malice, it was him. Lucius’ list of aggravations from the Citizens was undoubtedly the longest, ranging from the attack on his House that’d killed thirteen of his people, to his own physical and psychological torture at the hands of their most twisted leadership members.

Jeremiah wouldn’t have found reason to smile after everything Lucius had suffered. And that wasn’t the only thing that set the two men apart.

Lucius’ mate, Circe, stood steadfast by his side. The mysterious, red-haired Raeth clung to the vampire with a devotion Jeremiah couldn’t begin to fathom. She’d found her mate—and rescued him—when no one else could locate him.

Staring at their faces, Jeremiah suddenly had the urge to make himself invisible. He didn’t want to hide out of cowardice, but he’d give his left arm to avoid the confrontation and whatever plans they were about to make.

Rukia and Gideon had made it their personal responsibility to check in on him, repeatedly, over the last few months. If they weren’t in Paracel to ask him face to face, they would text him instead.

He never responded. He didn’t want to be anyone’s problem, and he certainly did not want their problems to be his responsibility.

Now, he’d be forced into a room with twenty other immortals to hash out the details of the latest disaster. There was simply too much on the line to let something of this magnitude slip, even when he’d said the exact opposite only minutes before.

Incompetence—his or anyone else’s—couldn’t be condoned.

Chapter Three

Zia’s fingertips drummed nervously on the cool marble. Her friends had gathered in her half-finished kitchen for support, but her heart still thumped in her chest while she waited for her sovereign.

In a few minutes, she’d have to go before the firing line and explain the nature of the breach. The heads of every immortal breed would learn that the Peace Accords’ documentation had been compromised. Addresses for most major vampire Houses, werewolf dens, the Elemental community in Paracel, and tens of Raeth clans were now in enemy hands.

Every failsafe measure she had created for keeping the information confidential and secure had failed. She couldn’t account for how the perpetrator had accessed the information, nor how they got onsite. Zia was about to face an immortal jury and tell them she had no answers or excuses.

It was her failure, and the guilt was eating her alive.

She had no idea what punishment the council of the Peace Accords would decide for her, but she had made arrangements in case they demanded her life. The scale of the breach was unprecedented, she would go to her death with no protest—but first, she’d beg to make it right. She would hunt down the perpetrator to the ends of the earth, even if it meant walking into the Citizens’ clutches.

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