Page 57 of Seducing Hope (The Hope Legacy)

“We don’t have a cause of death, but I’ll inform you as soon as we do. I bet you can get the post mortem report anyway,” I point out.

Archan crosses one foot over his knee. “But I can’t get your conversations with the coroner and detective, which won’t be on the official reports.”

I keep my tone mild. “I’ll share all information, as per our agreement. I never break my promises. This isn’t going to work unless we trust each other.”

Look at me being the grown up. I feel like I’ve aged five years in five minutes.

Pulling out the crime scene photos, I spread them across the table and pick the one with the clear image of the symbols. Archan stiffens, and the flames around his aura flare. Awareness prickles along my skin, and a primal instinct tells me to run—the power and anger spilling from him are stifling.

“Do you know what they mean?” I ask, as if I haven’t almost suffocated.

“It’s a warning.” He points to the circle. Duncan looks smug.

“What does the rest of it mean?” I ask.

He drops the photo back onto the coffee table. “If I asked you to stop investigating, would you?”

I shake my head. “We’ve been through this.”

He thins his lips. “It’s a warning for you, Natia. To stop.”

My heart skips a few beats. “What have I got to do with this?” My voice sounds croaky; I down my entire glass of wine. Jed looks through the rest of the crime scene photos as I repeat my question. “What the fuck do I have to do with this?”

Archan studies me, like he’s searching for something. “What are you?”

Duncan rises and stands behind me. “Again with the ridiculous questions. Why am I being warned?”

He ignores me. I stand and start pacing in front of the fire, all eyes watching my movements. “Are you human?”

Halting, I stare at him. “You’ve asked me something like this twice. I have human parents, George and Harriet Waterford. I grew up in Seattle where I graduated school with a 4.5 grade point average. I studied contemporary dance and work for a security firm, where I’ve learned how to fight supernatural beings. I don’t turn into a banshee at night, grow horns when I’m angry, or feast on the souls of the damned.” Aaden and Zee look amused.

I point at the symbols. “Now, tell me precisely what that says.”

Silence follows my outburst, and Archan finally meets my gaze. “Death will follow the female warrior.”

My legs shake, forcing me to sit. “How do you know I’m ‘the female?’”

“Do you know of any other weapon-trained female involved in this?” I look over my shoulder at Duncan. He just rubs the base of my neck, staring off in silence. Turning back, I find Archan’s stare narrowed on Duncan.

There is a knock at the door. The men turn their heads in unison—it’s kind of creepy.

“Chill out, guys. I ordered Chinese, remember?”

Jed perks up and turns toward me in silent question. I pat his knee. “You can stay, Smoothie.” I glance at Archan. “You, too, I suppose.”

Zee collects the food and piles it on the dining table. Archan procures a seat next to me. The circular table, made to accommodate six normal-sized people, is surrounded by five tall men and me. Inevitably, his knee keeps brushing mine. I grit my teeth at the tingles.

Duncan shakes his empty beer bottle. “Anyone need another drink?”

They all have another beer. I request the bottle of wine and fill my glass to the top. I’m a lightweight, so I’m already on my way to being tipsy.

“What’s the plan tomorrow?” I enquire.

“Are you searching for the Jar?” Jed asks in between slurping noodles into his mouth.

“Yes, we’re going to North Sentinel Island.”

Archan stiffens next to me. “No, Natia. I forbid it—you’ll be killed. I can get you access to the Iron Mountain; you can help search there.”

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