Chapter 16 - Above Cursed Winds

Jeremiah looked at his food with contempt, grinding his teeth. He sighed and thought about what he’d disclosed to Zia.

It was the truth: he hadn’t done anything. Jeremiah has watched as Gideon died, unable to save him. His friend wasn’t at fault; he’d merely been a victim, albeit not an unwilling one.

Gideon had stepped up to the plate and offered his life like it hadn’t mattered, remaining still as Torrin tormented him, even as the enemy raised the gun and aimed the fatal shot. Gideon’s obstinate need to protect the innocents had required him to continue ‘healing’ the dam until he died.

Jeremiah jolted when Zia’s hand gently traced a path along his spine. Though he stiffened, she didn’t drop her hand or cringe away. The Raeth continued her soothing ministration, as though she couldn’t help but console him. Each delicate touch along his spine had his heart kicking beneath his breastbone, a yearning beginning in his gut. He longed to lean into her caress, to take comfort in each deliberate stroke.

The sound of feet bouncing down the stairs gave him an excuse to shrug off the emotions currently hitting him hard in the face.

“Morning, little man.”

“Jeremiah, you’re still here!” Eyes dancing with happiness, Myko skidded around the corner. “And you made food!”

Chuckling, Jeremiah eased off the stool while Myko climbed up. “Buckle up, kiddo. You’re getting the King treatment today.”

* * *

Three hours later, Jeremiah’s fingers flew over the computer keyboard, tightening up security and upgrading every system associated with the clan’s network and the closed network that held the Accords information.

Zia had helped him log in but had begun running through the updated security protocols with the other clan’s lieutenants shortly after. It was just as well—he needed to research her digital footprint without her breathing down his neck.

With her blessing, he’d begun looking through her files for any sign of the culprit. What he hadn’t disclosed was that he was examining every piece of content on her computer for signs that she might be it. As much as the thought turned his stomach and his instincts screamed against it, he couldn’t afford to cross her name off the list yet.

From everything he’d seen so far, she was committed to her clan—not someone who’d willingly hand over confidential information to an enemy. Now that he had the name of Myko’s father, he scoured her files for references to the man. Very little returned on that front, so he searched for any sign of blackmail. Again, he came up empty, but his research had broadened his understanding of both Zia and her clan.

He reacted so viscerally to Zia’s touch this morning, and it had only left him wanting more. The woman was drop-dead gorgeous, so enticing he’d be snared hook, line, and sinker if he allowed himself to go there. Knowing that her heart was pure gold was a heady sensation.

After he’d upgraded their security, he reviewed recorded footage from the dome. It was his attempt to figure out why the cameras hadn’t tracked anyone arriving or leaving the night of the crime.

While dissecting the footage with a fine-tooth comb, Jeremiah spotted a barely perceptible blip, a pause in the footage. Just after the blip, the moonlight’s shadows had marginally migrated across the floor, indicating a small amount of time had been erased from the recording. Not ten minutes later, a similar blip was recorded again.

Teeth grating together, he locked the computer and went in search of the sovereign he’d recently decked.

“Jeremiah!”

Nero’s cheerful grin welcomed him into his office, no signs of offense or grudges present. Jeremiah collapsed into the same chair he’d taken on the earlier visit.

“No hard feelings, then?”

“If I held a grudge against everyone who’s ever punched me, I’d hate everyone.” Nero chuckled, leaning back in his chair. “Zia said you ruined a perfectly good condo.”

“I’m fairly sure an evil toilet spirit was the cause of that disaster.”

“Right,” Nero drawled. “The builders will have it fixed in a couple of days and then you can stop sleeping on my second’s couch.” He grew solemn. “I apologize for Key’s part in what happened that night at the Gala. Had I known the details, I never would’ve let it happen.”

Looking away, Jeremiah gave a tight nod, unwilling to discuss it further. “I appreciate the sentiment. But it was never your fault, Nero. You were just an easy target.”

“Happy to be your punching bag, Elemental.”

“Good. Glad that’s settled.”

Nero gave him a half smile. “Zia tells me you’re hard at work. What’ve you found?”

Launching into the security adjustments he’d made, Jeremiah described their new network installation and how there had been little room for improvement. And then, ruefully, he informed Nero about the time blip that’d happened twice—less than a minute each time—on his recordings.

“That’s a problem.”

It was the understatement of the century. Jeremiah kicked a heel up on the opposite chair and nodded at Nero’s declaration.

“A technopath might be able to figure out how it was edited, but I lack the skill set to dive any deeper. My contact at the CIA is still attempting to locate the missing files.”

“Good.”

With the topic wrapped up, his mind shifted to other matters. Hesitating, Jeremiah cleared his throat, then voiced the question that’d been eating away at him.

“Does Sehrin ever come to see Myko?”

Surprise and displeasure colored Nero’s features. “Sehrin barely visits once a year. Why do you ask?”

Jeremiah shrugged, hoping for casual. “Myko mentioned him.”

“Myko idolizes his father, but the man is a menace. For a race that rarely has offspring, you’d think a father would be attentive to what could potentially be their only child. Sehrin is, regrettably, much the opposite.”

“Zia mentioned he’s clanless. How does that work?”

“He and I have an agreement: he can enter clan lands at any time he wishes, as long as he never harms one of my clansmen. If he does, his life is forfeit.”

“Damn, Nero, remind me never to get on your bad side,” he chuckled. “Wouldn’t want a stray punch to ruin our friendship.”

Bidding the sovereign goodbye, he mulled over the new information. A clanless Raeth, intimately connected with Zia, had standing access to clan lands. It meant he could come and go without triggering Nero’s systems—or throwing up any psychic alarms.

Suspecting Zia of double crossing her own clan was a serious allegation, and certainly not one he’d toss out before he’d gathered enough evidence. Though he’d come here with every intention of ferreting out the culprit, there was a part of Jeremiah that simply wanted to turn a blind eye.

Zia was his top suspect, but his gut said she was innocent. Whether that innocence was due to being blackmailed, threatened, or truly having nothing to do with it, he couldn’t determine, but everything he’d discovered about her seemed genuine. Her loyalty to Nero, proven only yesterday when she’d held a dagger to his neck, was commendable. She loved her son but seemed to have a unique relationship with Myko’s father.

Mired in his thoughts, Jeremiah returned to Zia’s home minutes later, surprised to find both of its inhabitants missing. As he went up the stairs, a chime pinged in his pocket. Gideon again. Once more, Jeremiah ignored him.

By the time he heard Zia’s voice downstairs, he was head and shoulders beneath Myko’s sink. He’d almost succeeded in fixing the plumbing and finally getting Myko’s bathroom finished. It was a point of pride for him: before he left, he wanted their home habitable. Considering their hospitality, it was the least he could do.

Besides, he liked seeing Zia’s flustered face and her coy embarrassment.

“Jeremiah?”

“In here!”

Still working beneath the sink, he was certain his call was muffled, but the Raeth could find him using other means.

Tightening the last bit of piping in place, Jeremiah shimmied out from the cabinet, finding Zia’s—surprise—flustered features hovering over him.

“Are you going to tinker with every room in my house?”

He offered her an admonishing look as he rose and turned on the sink. To his complete and utter relief, free-flowing water rushed through the spouting, draining properly below.

“You fixed it!”

Zia’s face lit up, the stunning expression brightening her sparkling violet eyes. Not for the first time, he caught himself staring at her lips.

What would it be like to kiss her? Based on their interactions so far, she’d probably resist, bat him away or stab him in the gut. But in his fantasy, those cherry-red lips returned the affection.

He had no idea whether she felt the same connection that’d been drumming against his heart. Increasingly, he felt as though he belonged here, in their lives. But he’d been burned by that feeling before, and now he had only loneliness to show for it.

“Fates, you’re absolutely amazing!” Her excited laugh was like the finest champagne, tickling his ears. “I could kiss you!”

He froze.

His hungry eyes strayed once again towards plump lips, skin flushing with a barely concealed desire. Heat. Want. Passion. Her breath gently brushed against his skin in the close confines of Myko’s bathroom.

And then she stepped forward to put her lips on his.