Page 69 of Elicit (Decadence After Dark)

“Could the tattoo have been a dragon eye?”

London shrugs. “Maybe. Possibly. I only saw it once or twice. He didn’t like me to look directly at him. He punished me if I did.” She starts to shake in my arms.

“Shhhh.” I pull her close and soothe her. “I’m sorry. I don’t mean to upset you.” I kiss her head and hold her securely. “But I need to know, if you saw it again would you recognize it?”

“I don’t know. Maybe? Are you going to drag home every man you find with a dragon eye tattoo?”

“Not every. Maybe just one.” My stomach flips at the mere thought. “Get up. Get dressed,” I urge her off me.

“What? Why?” She pouts, confused.

“Because we have to go see a man with a tattoo immediately.” I press my lips to hers assuringly. I want to scream from the rooftops how much I love her. If this conversation went in a different direction, I might be making love to her right now, professing my feelings like a damn fool. But those words won’t spill until I know she’s ready to hear them. Which she never will be if I’m right.

Jesus, please don’t let me be right.

You’re always right.

I ignore my trifling subconscious as I hand London her clothes and climb back into mine.

The whole way back to the house, my intuition sweats. It’s midday, so the sun is warm and directly overhead. Once back inside, and with a steel grip on London’s hand, I tear around the house.

“Jett, you’re going to rip my arm out at this rate.” She tugs, dressed in one of my navy blue T-shirts and lounge shorts.

“I’m sorry. But I need to know.”

“Know what?” She’s flabbergasted.

I finally track him down in the game room, playing pool with Amber. They look cozy, flirting and kissing like oblivious teenagers against the edge of the green felt table.

As if compelled by black magic, I rush Alistair, grabbing the back of his linen shirt and lifting it up.

“Is this the tattoo?” I snap at London.

“What the fuck?” Alistair reacts, slapping my hand away and bounding across the room before London can answer.

Her bewildered expression tells me everything I need to know.

I knew it the moment she told me the time period and that he wore his dark hair in a bun. That was Alistair’s trademark hairstyle for years.

“You knew,” I accuse lethally, stalking toward him. “You knew who she was the second you saw her.” I recall our fight in my dojo. I noticed the new addition. Redhead. Very nice.

Alistair doesn’t confirm nor deny anything. His silence proves him guilty in my eyes. I don’t recognize the man standing in front of me. A man capable of such revolting things. He’s not the man who raised me. The man who taught me to respect humanity. To respect women. To appreciate everything about them.

“Explain,” I demand, slamming my fist on the pool table. “Explain how you are capable—responsible—for such heinous things!”

Alistair steps backward cautiously, his cloudy hazel eyes calculating my every move. He should be wary, because right now I want to kill him. If he were anyone else, he’d already be dead. “I’m fucking waiting!”

“Don’t you dare yell at me. I’m still your elder. And I don’t have to explain anything to you.”

“You are a fucking snake slithering on the ground right now! And yes, you do. This is my house, London is my girl, and I demand an explanation.”

Alistair’s lips curl up cruelly.

“What’s that fucking look about?”

“You will never understand, so no matter what I say, no matter how I explain, my answers won’t make a difference.” His accent peeks through and London gasps. For years, he’s worked to get rid of it. Always claiming he didn’t want to be discriminated against for being foreign. He wanted to fit in. I never questioned it. Why would I? It was his prerogative, but now, today, I realize it had nothing to do with that. He wasn’t worried about being discriminated against; he was worried about being recognizable.

I glance at London for a split second and see the grief pouring out of her eyes.

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