Page 65 of The Aether

Ronan and Alex were already a sure thing, but they verbally pledged their allegiance.

“Okay. That leaves Creed, Masters, Brothers, and Blane,” Damian said with a satisfied smile.

“I’m in,” Trevor said, entering the room. With a thumb gesture to the hall, he shrugged. “I heard the bulk of it as I was arriving. You know Simon would also be on board, Dethridge. My family owes you a debt.”

“I’m not calling in debts, Blane. Anyone on this team should be here because they want to be. Not because they have to.”

“Fair enough. But I feel confident in saying that you’ve earned the respect of everyone present. My brother and I included. We’d be honored to stand by you.”

“Thank you.”

A knock at the terrace doors caught their attention, and Damian went to welcome the last of his invitees.

The only person Vivian recognized was Draven Masters, the reluctant Guardian who had gone AWOL for a good number of years. His magic was likely the only one there that might rival Damian’s, and it pulsed off him like an angry beacon.

With his rugged, unshaven jaw and sharp features, he appeared more world-weary than most people of her acquaintance. His whiskey-colored eyes were flat, too, as if he’d seen too much of life and it had left him cold. The deep laugh lines engraved in his skin suggested that, for a time, he’d been happy. Although attractive, he didn’t use a glamour to hide his age or boost his looks the way a standard witch or warlock might. Here was a man who didn’t give two shits what anyone thought of him.

After shaking her husband’s hand, Draven produced a poker chip and traveled it across his knuckles, causing it to disappear at his pinky, then reappear at his thumb to start the motion all over again. The gesture seemed more absent-minded and habitual than deliberate.

As if he sensed Vivian’s regard, his eyes found hers, and he nodded politely.

She returned the gesture before shifting her attention to the man on his left.

Fit was the only way to describe him. Not bulky in stature, but muscled nonetheless, he didn’t appear to possess a spare ounce of fat. That lack lent his face a chiseled quality, as if he were made of stone. Like Draven, his eyes held no joy, and he looked around him with disinterest—untilhis gaze landed on Narissa.

The man’s expression sharpened, and anger was obvious in the tightening of his mouth, as if he struggled not to swear up a storm. There was history between the two. Vivian would stake her life on it.

Running a shaking hand through his chestnut hair, he returned his attention to Damian. “Why am I here, Dethridge?”

“Creed. Please, come in and have a seat. We’ve much to discuss.”

With a glance around and a purposeful avoidance of Narissa this time, Creed shook his head. “It appears you’ve gathered the Authority’s mindless minions. I’m not one of them.”

“You do my friends a disservice, Caldwell. They are all free thinkers here by choice.” Damian’s tone had cooled considerably, but he made his next offer, nonetheless. “I can have you reinstated or leave you to your fate. The choice is yours. However, I hope you’ll consider joining my team after what you learn.”

With a reluctant nod, Creed entered farther into the room. “Where’s the booze?”

Vivian pointed. “Sideboard. Help yourself,” she said with a smirk, knowing full well he intended to.

Draven followed him, which left only one newcomer Vivian didn’t know.

“Jordan, thank you for answering the call.” Damian gestured to the room. “Please, have a seat.”

Jordan Brothers appeared fresher and less disillusioned than his two companions. Similarly built to Draven, he was lanky, with a youthful face and kind eyes that searched out and cataloged information in the environment surrounding him. Vivian noticed he missed nothing as he took in the room as a whole, and his attention was eventually caught by the wall of books behind Ronan.

Rather than sitting, he went to explore.

Damian’s lips twisted in an amused smile as he shut and locked the doors.

Within five minutes, the three men were caught up to speed, and Vivian was absolutely positive Narissa and Creed had been lovers at one point in time. The air around them sparked with unspoken emotion and an attraction he didn’t want to acknowledge. Though she tried to hide it, Narissa seemed hurt by his coldness.

“Don’t try to figure it out,cher. Not unless you like soap operas, that is.” The gruff Cajun voice startled her. Vivian hadn’t been aware of Draven moving next to her.

“Perhaps it’s the mystery behind the emotion that I find interesting,” she replied in a low tone.

His chuckle was deep and sexy as hell, drawing the attention of the other women and a narrow-eyed look from Damian.

“No need to be jealous, darling,”she telepathically relayed to him.

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