Page 528 of Fated to be Enemies

“Deal,” I growl before taking her mouth in a fierce kiss.

“Anything else?” she asks when we break for a breath.

“How do you want to play this?” I ask, moving to the next facet of my anxiety. “You escaped, yes, but we didn’t win. Now you’re down a power, and we don’t know when or if it’s coming back. If she’s coming back. We need to decide where we’re going.”

She considers this for about half a second.

“I want to go home,” Aurelia admits, her pale gaze no longer meeting mine. “I want to sleep in my own bed. Evan, John, and their entire crew can come with us if they want to. I have the room. My place is secluded, secure, and has my studio. I need to shake this off and think of a new plan to get that bitch.” She places her hands against my chest and pushes away. “There were prisoners there, Rhys. Who knows how many there are? We have to stop Iva. And we have to save those people.”

Holing up in her house? It’s not a bad plan. “I think we can do that. I know the wraiths will help. And you’re right—we can’t let her take more lives. I’ll talk to the others, see if they’re onboard.”

She nods and moves me aside to grab the dryer, getting to work on her heavy fall of hair as I pull my clothes back on. Then I leave the warmth of the bathroom to collect a fresh set of clothes for her and whatever else Evan has scrounged up in the last hour. Opening the door, I find the manic pixie holding three bulging shopping bags.

“Go talk to the boys,” she says, shoving past me into our room. “She wants to go home, right?”

“How’d you know?” I ask over the roar of the hair dryer.

“She hasn’t painted in two weeks. That’s like cutting off a limb for her,” she answers like I’m an idiot, dumping the fresh clothes out of the bags and removing the tags. “Her house is secure—maybe more than Dad’s—and she has more weapons.”

That has me taking a step back. “How could she possibly have more weapons?”

A frown mars my friend’s face as she stares at me like I’m a special kind of stupid. “She’s been dreaming of war and death for almost two centuries, Rhys. That makes a girl mighty paranoid.”

She’s got me there.

Leaving her to it, I close the door behind me to go talk to the rest of the men. Aidan answers when I knock on their door, barring my way, likely still mad at me for telling him to stay with his brother.

Dumbass.

“Get over it, dude,” I grumble, shouldering past him.

West looks up from his perusal of his phone. “She wants to go home?”

How he knows this already, I have no clue, but I nod anyway. “Yep. After what she’s been through, I’ll give her whatever she wants, so…”

“It’s not a bad plan,” Ian agrees. “I’m told it’s secure and stocked better than an armory. Thoughts?”

“Why not?” Aidan grouses. “No one else has come up with anything. With Javier’s betrayal, so many of our safe houses are gone. We have no idea how many locations have been compromised. Her house?” He lifts a shoulder in indifference. “It might be the only place for us.”

Then I guess we have a plan.

While Aurelia’s house is modest compared to John’s, the five-bedroom, five-bath home is nothing if not comfortable. Wide picture windows display the mountains beyond, the smooth plastered walls painted a soothing green that reminds me of Aurelia’s eyes. The wide French doors lead to a wraparound deck, but it’s the vaulted ceilings that are the real showpiece. Peaked at an incredible slope, they’re gently broken up by giant wooden beams that constantly pull my gaze upward.

And the pillows.

Dainty lace ones, medium solid ones, and large printed ones reside on every squashy armchair, couch, and side chair. Aurelia’s house was made for loafing—each piece selected for maximum comfort.

Lounging on the chocolate-brown leather sectional, to the untrained eye I appear at ease. My head practically drowning in pillows, I watch her work at her easel. I may seem relaxed, but I’m stressed the fuck out on the inside, thinking about all that Evan has told me.

The both of us—hell, even John searched—but we can’t find a single person that can help us bring her Aegis power back. The same power that saved her from the insanity of vision after vision, death after death. We thought she was safe.

Oh, how wrong we were.

No matter who we talk to, they don’t seem to have enough juice to help, or they refuse to go against Iva. Our Primary’s reign of terror has filtered through every species of the Ethereal.

And it shows. Clawing fingers of dread pull at me as I look at her work.

Aurelia sits perched on a bar stool, her withered frame hunched as she feverishly slaps paint on the canvas. I brought it down from the kitchen island two days ago when her legs refused to hold her up.

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