Page 56 of Heir of Ashes
“Excellent,” Logan said, rubbing his hands together. “I’ll call for something and hit the shower before filling you in.”
“Fill me in now, bro. Tell me what’s happening.”
“It’s a long story. I’ll be quick,” Logan replied curtly. Was it my imagination, or was he avoiding the question—not wanting to explain in front of me? What was he hiding?
That damned trust issue again. Not wanting to speculate about something I had no control over, I took the time to examine Rafael’s aura now that he wasn’t focused on me. He wasn’t a were—I could tell that even if his aura was green—and the gray specks suggested that whatever he was, he had died first to be made that way. Right? Wasn’t the scar running down his temple to his eyebrow proof enough? I’d never seen a preternatural with a scar unless they’d been human when they got it, but there were exceptions. I scarred sometimes for a while, sometimes for long stretches, sometimes briefly. It took time for an injury to heal, and his could be residual from a fight not long ago. I felt when his eyes snapped back on me, the anger and contempt hitting me full force.
“She doesn’t look dangerous to me,” he commented in a bored, dismissive tone.
My eyebrows rose, and I glanced sideways at Logan. Rafael did the same, and we both waited for the answer. Did Logan discuss his cases—or the ones he refused—with his friends?
“I thought you said she left,” Rafael added.
“She did.”
“Ah. Then this is an illusion?”
Logan’s warning growl reverberated through the room.
Rafael raised his hands in a placating gesture. “Chill, man. No need for hostility. I’m just trying to understand what’s going on. First, you tell me you found a guide. Then you say she’s not coming but will help from the sidelines, and you leave me these colorful chicken scratches with Douglas—who, by the way, is just as confused as I am—and tell me this is where we’re going.You tell me we’re on our own, and then you change the location where I should meet you three times and leave me to figure out where to find you in the end. And when I do, I find her still here. I’m just trying to understand what the fuck is up with this merry chase.”
The familiar freshness of Logan’s anger filled the air, mixing with Rafael’s. “Are you in or not?”
“Sure. We’re still rescuing Archer, I presume? Or has the mission changed as well? Because I can still call Doug and tell him there’s no need for the recon,” Rafael added sarcastically.
Logan’s fist clenched and unclenched. He glanced once at me before stomping to the phone to order drinks and snacks. Then without a word or a glance back at us, he grabbed some clothes and stomped to the bathroom, slamming the door behind him.
That was uncharacteristically childish of him, but it was also very effective—preventing the inevitable confrontation from breaking or answering questions he’d rather avoid.
We both watched the closed door for a moment. Eventually, Rafael’s gaze shifted to me, his outwardly relaxed stance underlying the angry waves battering at my senses, begging to be consumed. “You don’t look dangerous to me,” he repeated, his tone dripping with condescension.
I ignored his deliberate provocation. Would he consider me dangerous if I sucked the life out of him? Would I be able to do it again—fast enough to diffuse an attack? It would be interesting to know if I could drain the life of an enemy without him realizing it before it was too late.
Like his eyes, Rafael’s hair was also brown, his face lean with sharp edges, giving him a dangerous look I suspected even ordinary humans heeded—without knowing why.
“I guess the old saying is true: looks can be deceiving,” he mocked. “I mean, pretty, soft, dreamy look in the eyes, lookspampered and well-mannered. It surprises me that Logan fell for it.” His eyes roved over me, assessing and dismissive.
Why was he pushing for a fight? I wasn’t going to take the bait. Still, I had the urge to look behind me to see if there was anyone else in the room with us.Soft? Dreamy look in the eyes? Pampered? Well-mannered?His assessment waslaughable.He shifted, the gray flecks in his aura moved with the motion, making the green seem flexible, like water. What could have an aura like that of a were yet feel and look different? I racked my mind for what I’d read in Dr. Maxwell’s journal but kept coming up empty.
“So, what’s up with you and Logan?”
I smirked. “Aren’t you dying to know?” I mulled over the possibilities of some new species in my mind, something similar to a were. Maybe like Logan, he was a hybrid of sorts.
“Don’t be a smartass with me. I can tell you’re hiding something. And even if Logan can’t see past the pretty shell to your subtle scheme, rest assured you’re not fooling me. I’ve seen many like you before. Spill it.”
“Or what?”
“Don’t push me. I’ll get it out one way or another. There’s something off about you, and I have no idea why Logan hasn’t sensed it, but I have.”
I didn’t answer him. I didn’t know what to say to that.
“Start talking,” he hissed, obviously expecting me to feel intimidated.
I did. But thanks to all my years with the PSS, he would never know. That, and being a predator myself, I knew not to show weakness in a game of dominance. And that’s exactly what this was: a predator trying to assert his alpha status.
“I have nothing to tell you.”
“Let me explain something, sistah. I’ve known Logan for a long time. I’ve seen him around beautiful women before. I’vealso seen him in action and know for a fact he’d never stray from his objective, especially when that objective is Archer.”