Page 22 of Blue Embers
Even in the short time she’d been helping I’d been able to focus more. Getting a human in the middle of something so serious wasn’t the best of plans, though.
“This group we’re dealing with has little regard for humans that interfere with their plans,” I told her.
“Yeah,” she nodded. “Falcons.”
“You know them?”
“I heard the name uttered once or twice back when I was a kid and once in a while on some news blogs I follow.” She paused for a moment, crossing one leg over the other to lean on her knee. “You know, when the news about the gala went public, it was the day Ben called me to tell me I got the job with the museum. I was skimming the names of the attendees and when I saw yours, I was pretty choked up.”
“Choked up? Why’s that, Ms. Grant?”
She shrugged. “I don’t know. I’d just gotten the job I really wanted only to hear that my future boss might have been killed in a terrorist attack? It was a little shocking.” She stopped and cleared her throat. “So they’re the ones causing all the grief?”
“That and the fact that a Zephyre is helping them. Puts a bit of stress on the shoulders of the Draak who said they’d keep the peace and protect the sectors. Despite how we came into power, this is our home. We won’t see it fall to pieces.”
Persephone’s face relaxed with a sense of tranquility when she looked at me, her lips slightly curving at the sides.
“What?” I asked, leaning back on a table.
“Nothing,” she shook her head. “I just don’t hear a lot of people talk like that. Protecting people? Being noble and honest? It’s a very old manner of speech.”
“I’m old, Ms. Grant.”
“How old?”
“Four hundred something,” I raised a shoulder. “But that’s an entirely different discussion for a different day.”
“Did I get close to that boundary you talked about?”
“Perhaps,” I played, walking close to her as I headed for the stairs to leave the lab. “Come. I’ll take you back to the museum.”
On the drive back into the city, Persephone didn’t ask once about the necklace or the rebels. Something else was on her mind and her silence proved it. She stared out the window, her body relaxed into her seat like she was about to go to sleep. I watched her in my peripheral, deep in thought myself as I tried to connect new dots that had been introduced to the board. When we came to the parking lot, I pulled up to the front and kept the engine running. Persephone noticed and looked at me as she unlatched her seatbelt.
“You going somewhere else?” she asked.
“I’ve used my brain too much today,” I said sarcastically. “Might as well end it by blowing off some steam somewhere where my brain isn’t involved.”
Looking at Persephone, I could see in her piercing gaze that she knew what that meant. We had a moment of understanding before she finally nodded and stepped out of the car.
“Care to join me?” I slipped, feeling a slight twinge of guilt come over me.
I’d practically admitted I was going out to find a woman to dip my cock into. Of course, if Persephone agreed to accompany me, I would ditch the idea of finding another woman and I would settle for drinks out of respect for her, but she shook her head in rejection. I was both relieved and disappointed.
“I think I’m just going to head home myself and sink into a warm bath with some wine,” she said.
Tossing me a forced smile, she closed the door and began walking toward the museum, a confident stride making her departure hard to look away from. A part of me burned to go after her and continue the night in a more intimate manner, but another part warned me from getting too close to her. She was special. When she disappeared into the building, I rolled my eyes at myself and drove off, putting some distance between her and I in an attempt to get away from the distraction. That particular sort of distraction, anyway.
When night fell, I found myself inside a loud, blinding, crowded club where music and alcohol dulled the senses of its patrons enough for one to lose themselves in the odd emptiness. I found it relaxing, in a sense. To be someplace where thoughts were unable to break through the chaotic sensory overload was meditative if experienced in moderation. That night, I had a few things I was eager to drown out for a while. One of them was Persephone. Worrying about rebels, terrorist attacks, and a Zephyre felt familiar. Worrying I might be more interested in a woman than I could afford at the moment was somewhat different.
Finding a space in a corner of the club, I sat down with a strong drink and watched the masses undulate under rippling, blue lights. People were dressed in slinky, cool toned clothing as if to match the club’s glowing floors and glass bar tops framed in LEDs. A euphoric, trance music set the tone and frosted glasses were in the hands of nearly every club-goer. I welcomed the emptiness the environment usually provided, but instead, I was stuck dwelling over an onslaught of thoughts that were proving too resilient. In the middle of trying to lose myself, I caught a beautiful, feminine figure nearby and something told me her sight was trained on me. I turned to look at her, pleased by what I saw.
A woman approached dressed in a shimmering, almost sheer, red dress. She had platinum hair that was short and curled in a classic look on her head. Had I not been in my current state of mind, I would have taken her without hesitation, but the fact that I hadn’t made a move yet made me wonder if sex was really what I needed. It often worked in the past to pull me out of my head for a few fleeting moments at a time, but that night I had much more on my mind. Still, the woman was a nice sight as she sachayed toward me, curvy hips swaying as she walked. She sat down beside me, crossing her legs in a slow manner to get my attention.
“Killian Valentyne, right?” she said, practically yelling over the music.
“The one and only, love,” I smiled, leaning forward, elbows on my knees.
The woman placed a hand on my shoulder and slid it slowly down my arm.
