02-16-2019, 10:08 PM
“Not really,” she agreed lightly. She found his coffee a perch on a cabinet while he pulled his clothes on, unabashed in the way she watched the sink of his hips into the band of his jeans, or the ripple of flesh as he lifted the tshirt over his head. Her blood flared hot. She made no attempts to dampen the tease of her smile, nor the heat of a gaze that might have beckoned another man into the arms of the sea, a lifetime ago. “I didn’t take you for shy.”
When he turned he loomed tall, arms folded, like sheer force of will could bend the steel of her spine where others tried and failed. Amusement flickered, warmed by something that might have edged on fondness for the naivete of that earnest attempt. Perhaps surprisingly, she didn’t argue. It wasn’t like he presented her with anything unreasonable. Instead she transferred the funds and retreated to the head of the guest bed, to at least weather the lecture in comfort. She tucked her legs up, pulled a pillow into her lap, and cradled the coffee in her palms while he spoke. He’d be wrong to mistake her silence as compliance, of course, but she did at least listen.
Natalie understood the trust he placed in wanting to leave something so precious as his baby sister in her care, just as she understood the safe line he urged her to stand behind while he plunged his hand into the night. But it was only his own conscience he eased by insisting on burdening the risk alone, and it appealed to a sense of altruism she had never claimed to possess.
This house had a professional security detail. It had Jensen James, whose gifts far outstripped Natalie’s own.
Jay knew that.
“I very much doubt the bounty on your head is less than five grand.” Dryness cracked the words; she only pointed out the obvious. Any informant had far more to gain by setting a trap than in honouring hollow promises greased by cash, even if the meeting had been arranged by someone trusted. She didn’t probe the bindings of the brotherhood that offered up such a chance, though the questions skated across her own mind. Ghosts hardened Jay’s expression, but she knew something of bloody bonds formed in the dark. Well-placed trust or blind hope, her support was steadfast either way, and not because she thought this was going to go well.
Jay had spoken of it as an opportunity for information, but that wasn’t what Natalie saw. The cynicism in her heart rooted far deeper than even the most desperate hope allowed. Either the informant would try to exhort more money, or they would attempt to collect the bounty. Thus the opportunity she saw was a grimmer thing, like blood in the back of the throat, though the clarity in her pale gaze did not flinch away from recognition. She wondered if it was an intention Jay toyed with in the back of his mind, like a tug on that leashed monster within, or if she was cut more from the cloth of her father’s callousness than she realised, to even think it.
Because Jay was a channeler now; one trained by Brandon’s own hand into the cruel arm of a soldier. Tonight he could choose to make an example of any who crossed him; to make collection of that bounty pale beneath the terror of the attempt, until none dare try.
To be the bigger monster.
She didn’t suggest it, of course, even if he might read something in her sudden quietness. It was a facet of his nature she had never shied from; a darkness accepted as readily as the light, even when she felt the strength of its teeth. The fierceness of such protectiveness unsettled her despite the weight of acceptance. Because if it was what he chose, she knew she would be there afterwards: to drag him out of the abyss. “Since Amengual was at the gala, it’s unlikely he’d want to risk war with the Custody. It’s about the only leverage you have,” she said instead.
Jay played at ruthlessness sometimes, and roused himself to the capability when the need spiralled. She was not sure upon which side that coin would land once it finally dropped, because she did not mean the fresh obligations of a crisp grey uniform, but the blood in her veins. It was the way her father might have seen things; to break them into their component parts, carve out the emotion. She did not offer such a shield out as a bloody sacrifice, wrought with blinded feeling. It was something else. Something surer. “You’re not going alone.”
A faint smile tugged, despite the firmness with which she had spoken; maybe summoned by the ghost of his own grin. She was stubborn, and armed to defend, but she wasn’t looking for an argument either. Something devilish gleamed in response to his tease, shivering playful beneath the suggestion of his gaze. She let it fire her pulse, uncoiling her legs slowly to stretch them out along his bed. In the Kremlin’s corridors only urgency stayed the hands that might have tugged him somewhere private. By the lakeside interruption cooled the heat. She’d never been coy about desire.
Wicked man.
Natalie made a show of consideration, but it was little more than a languorous dare to cross that ocean. Restraint tempered every half grasped opportunity, but it was quiet now. Despite that, in a game of bluff and tease, she didn’t doubt who would win.
When he turned he loomed tall, arms folded, like sheer force of will could bend the steel of her spine where others tried and failed. Amusement flickered, warmed by something that might have edged on fondness for the naivete of that earnest attempt. Perhaps surprisingly, she didn’t argue. It wasn’t like he presented her with anything unreasonable. Instead she transferred the funds and retreated to the head of the guest bed, to at least weather the lecture in comfort. She tucked her legs up, pulled a pillow into her lap, and cradled the coffee in her palms while he spoke. He’d be wrong to mistake her silence as compliance, of course, but she did at least listen.
Natalie understood the trust he placed in wanting to leave something so precious as his baby sister in her care, just as she understood the safe line he urged her to stand behind while he plunged his hand into the night. But it was only his own conscience he eased by insisting on burdening the risk alone, and it appealed to a sense of altruism she had never claimed to possess.
This house had a professional security detail. It had Jensen James, whose gifts far outstripped Natalie’s own.
Jay knew that.
“I very much doubt the bounty on your head is less than five grand.” Dryness cracked the words; she only pointed out the obvious. Any informant had far more to gain by setting a trap than in honouring hollow promises greased by cash, even if the meeting had been arranged by someone trusted. She didn’t probe the bindings of the brotherhood that offered up such a chance, though the questions skated across her own mind. Ghosts hardened Jay’s expression, but she knew something of bloody bonds formed in the dark. Well-placed trust or blind hope, her support was steadfast either way, and not because she thought this was going to go well.
Jay had spoken of it as an opportunity for information, but that wasn’t what Natalie saw. The cynicism in her heart rooted far deeper than even the most desperate hope allowed. Either the informant would try to exhort more money, or they would attempt to collect the bounty. Thus the opportunity she saw was a grimmer thing, like blood in the back of the throat, though the clarity in her pale gaze did not flinch away from recognition. She wondered if it was an intention Jay toyed with in the back of his mind, like a tug on that leashed monster within, or if she was cut more from the cloth of her father’s callousness than she realised, to even think it.
Because Jay was a channeler now; one trained by Brandon’s own hand into the cruel arm of a soldier. Tonight he could choose to make an example of any who crossed him; to make collection of that bounty pale beneath the terror of the attempt, until none dare try.
To be the bigger monster.
She didn’t suggest it, of course, even if he might read something in her sudden quietness. It was a facet of his nature she had never shied from; a darkness accepted as readily as the light, even when she felt the strength of its teeth. The fierceness of such protectiveness unsettled her despite the weight of acceptance. Because if it was what he chose, she knew she would be there afterwards: to drag him out of the abyss. “Since Amengual was at the gala, it’s unlikely he’d want to risk war with the Custody. It’s about the only leverage you have,” she said instead.
Jay played at ruthlessness sometimes, and roused himself to the capability when the need spiralled. She was not sure upon which side that coin would land once it finally dropped, because she did not mean the fresh obligations of a crisp grey uniform, but the blood in her veins. It was the way her father might have seen things; to break them into their component parts, carve out the emotion. She did not offer such a shield out as a bloody sacrifice, wrought with blinded feeling. It was something else. Something surer. “You’re not going alone.”
A faint smile tugged, despite the firmness with which she had spoken; maybe summoned by the ghost of his own grin. She was stubborn, and armed to defend, but she wasn’t looking for an argument either. Something devilish gleamed in response to his tease, shivering playful beneath the suggestion of his gaze. She let it fire her pulse, uncoiling her legs slowly to stretch them out along his bed. In the Kremlin’s corridors only urgency stayed the hands that might have tugged him somewhere private. By the lakeside interruption cooled the heat. She’d never been coy about desire.
Wicked man.
Natalie made a show of consideration, but it was little more than a languorous dare to cross that ocean. Restraint tempered every half grasped opportunity, but it was quiet now. Despite that, in a game of bluff and tease, she didn’t doubt who would win.