Page 48 of Soulmates
Trajan shakes his head like he can’t even believe he’s hearing the guy’s voice. Sheena breathes. I slurp.
“Okay.” The phouka—because of course the Elite would recruit a phouka—pinches the bridge of his nose between his thumb and forefinger.
When Connor says the words “I am with the Elite,” Trajan goes completely stiff, as if he’s using every ounce of self-control not to attack.
Sheena’s protective arm becomes more of a restraint.
Trajan’s voice comes from somewhere deep. “We were together five years and you never bothered to tell me?”
“I couldn’t.” Now Connor’s talking to the floor.
“So what? I was just a convenient cover?”
Sheena flinches, and even I pause in licking my fingers. With one question, Trajan has made this very, very personal, and I glance at the Amazon, raising my eyebrows to ask whether we should leave. She ignores me, and until I’m sure Trajan’s not going to lose it again, I stay put.
“No.” Connor glances up from under his brow. His eyes are copper against his pale skin and bloodstains show as dark patches on his black hoodie. He clears his throat like it hurts. “No, what we had was separate, and very important to me.”
“You let me think you were dead.” The words crash out in a chasm of grief.
Connor flings himself up from the chair. “I had no choice.” He stands, facing the fireplace, his back to the room. “I swear to you,mo shiorghrá.A job went sideways, and I had to disappear. It was the only way I could keep you alive.”
Silence deadens the air, interrupted by the soft ticking of an old clock. Because every Craftsman house must have an old clock somewhere. I finish off the last bit of beef, still exhausted but functioning. Trajan sits with his arms crossed, his scowl fierce. Connor rests his hands on the mantel, frozen, waiting for the judge and jury.
Finally, Trajan speaks. “I don’t know if I can believe that.”
Connor’s shoulders sink. “I swear.” His voice trails off to nothing. “I swear.”
“What does any of this have to do with someone jumping me outside the club last night? Or with the shit that’s gone down with David?” Sheena’s question acts like a blast of cold air in a dark room. “Because getting the jump on an Amazon takes a lot of planning, so this”—she points at her face—“was no accident.”
“True.” Trajan straightens, making a visible effort to pull back from whatever ledge he’d found himself on.
“Tell us what happened.” I find I can speak now that the atmosphere isn’t so tense.
“I went by the pub, and then I was supposed to meet you.” She pointed at Connor. He raises his eyebrows, but doesn’t confirm or deny her claim.
“We said we were going to meet over in La Brea, by the tar pits, but when I got there, two guys came out of nowhere and beat the shit out of me.” She shifted like her body hurt. “Some people found me…I don’t know, club kids or whatever…and they got me to an ER.”
“Human?” I ask.
She curls her lip, then winces. “Yeah. Armed with baseball bats or something.”
We still haven’t dealt with my shit, but that’s okay. We’re talking, and no one’s dead. This is good. I’m fading a little, but it’s not even midnight. Connor looks so tired, he could fall on his face. Sheena’s not much better.
Trajan, though. Trajan’s up and pacing. “I want to check out La Brea, see if I can pick anything up. Come with me?”
He raises his chin at me. I blink, inhale deeply, and nod. Yes, I’ll go with him, but the whole time, I’ll be hoping like hell Connor’s still here when we get back.
OXO
Hours later, Trajan and I roll back into Sheena’s house. We cruised La Brea, and while we found the place where she’d been hit, we didn’t see anything labeled “clue.” Connor’s sleeping on the couch. Sheena’s bedroom door is closed, so she’s likely asleep, too.
“Come here.” Trajan draws me into the second bedroom. This one has blackout curtains and a big dead bolt on the door. All through our travels this evening, he’s been distant, cold, so even this little gesture reassures me. Though it’s mildly irritating that I need reassurance.
There’s just enough room to walk all the way around the queen-size bed. Trajan pulls me closer. “There’s really no other place to sleep.” His cool fingertips trace the mesh patterns in my shirt. “Unless you want a blanket on the floor.”
I lean into him, inhaling the dusty, electric scent of vampire. I’ll sleep with him, but I don’t want to talk. We’ve spent the last few hours in the kind of silence that forms when there’re too many things to say. Touching is easier, anyway.
I catch hold of his shirt and rise on tiptoe, brushing his lips with the lightest kiss. He catches my ass with both hands and lifts, so I swing my legs up and wrap them around his waist.
