Chapter 28 - Above Cursed Winds

A cascade of silky hair caressed his skin when Jeremiah woke up. At some point during the night, Zia had left his side. He’d tossed and turned fitfully for several hours, and only found peace when she returned to bed.

Now, the Raeth lay curled over his chest, kitten-like, and dead asleep.

Jeremiah brushed his fingers through her thick ebony hair. Lavender, red, and blue highlights were woven deftly between layers, a riot of color. The tones were muted, the barest touch of pizzaz, not a loud or garish statement. But her intent shone brightly, just like her inner fire.

Risking a glance at his bare chest, he was relieved to see the abrasions and bruises had faded during the night. He probed his soul too, like someone who couldn’t resist poking their tongue at a painful tooth. His guilt over the three who hadn’t lived to see the moon rise had also dulled with Zia’s words, although it would never fully leave him.

As his memory of last night sharpened, he remembered all he’d revealed. He went completely still underneath the beauty resting on his chest. He’d vowed he’d never speak of it.

Zia now knew his innermost secret, the damning failure that’d left him as worthless as a dry well. Everything lay bare, the way he’d recklessly attempted to save Gideon and hadn’t succeeded, how he’d been willing to shirk his duty to the people downstream of the damaged dam, and been ready to sacrifice it all by attempting to intervene.

And she hadn’t judged him. At least not last night. Today was a different day, and Jeremiah could only hope that Zia would not dwell or bring it up again.

Carefully, he got out of bed and paused to look at her. Jeremiah tucked her hair behind her ear then pressed the lightest of lingering kisses against her high cheekbone, savoring the contact and breathing her in. Eventually, he forced himself to leave her room.

He was halfway down to the ground floor when he realized he wasn’t alone.

Every muscle tensed. His eyes connected with the male who stood smirking at the foot of the stairs. Jeremiah’s element whirled around him, a primal response to a very real threat.

Even without knowing who the man was, Jeremiah could tell he was powerful. Elementals were imbued with a supernatural ability to sense another’s immortality and what breed they were.

Currently, his senses were screaming danger. And the presence of a Raeth.

For a beat, Jeremiah simply took him in. The stranger rivaled him in height at six and a half feet tall, though the Raeth was more muscular. Brown eyes the color of coffee beans, with the slightest uptilt at the corner, watched him from a face with strong features, set in a dark-olive skin tone that hinted at a mixed heritage.

“You’re Jeremiah.” Cruel, the smile that greeted him revealed a savage nature beneath that civilized exterior. “I’m Myko’s father, Sehrin.”

He still wasn’t sure whether he should’ve felt relieved or not. Slowly, Jeremiah descended the stairs, almost pleased when the other man backed half a stride to allow him to step onto the landing.

“A pleasure.”

He extended his arm in a warrior’s greeting, battling back the instinctive flinch that warned against touching the Raeth.

The harsh smirk seemed to permanently hover on Sehrin’s features. Behind it, under the superficial callousness, something deeper roamed. Before Jeremiah could read too far into it, Myko’s excited shout echoed down the hallway.

“Father!”

Speeding up to him, Myko leapt into Sehrin’s open arms, all childish joy and enthusiasm. Jeremiah noted—happily—that the darkness across Sehrin’s features was swiftly replaced by tempered affection. The man couldn’t be all bad if he welcomed his son so openly, and Jeremiah wondered for a moment if he was letting his mood affect his first impressions. After all, this man was Myko’s father. Part of Zia’s family, one of the people who had truly won a place in her life.

Professionally, however, Jeremiah remained conflicted. Sehrin was clanless, had access to Nero’s clan lands, and had ties to Zia. If there was even the least possibility that he was involved in the breach, Jeremiah had to investigate that avenue. He wouldn’t let someone who had potentially blackmailed Zia go free out of a reluctance to intrude in family business.

“Son.” Sehrin allowed one more embrace before holding Myko at arm’s length. “How is your ability progressing?”

“Strong, sir.” A soldier reporting to his general, the boy’s back went ramrod stiff.

“Are you able to control it yet?”

Though it was posed as a polite inquiry, a hint of pressure lingered beneath the words, and hesitation grew on Myko’s innocent features. “I—I’m getting better.”

Something akin to contempt flashed across Sehrin’s eyes before it dissolved into a forced smile. “Where is your mother?”

Only seconds later, the prickling of electricity ran down Jeremiah’s spine. He heard a startled gasp from Zia’s room and then movement above their heads. A muscle jumped in his jaw. No one should call Zia like a dog.

She appeared at the top of the stairs, still hastily braiding her hair, but her clothes looked as if she’d just stepped out of the pages of a high fashion magazine.

Had she gotten dressed up for Sehrin?

A pang of jealousy, cold and dark, seeped into his mind as Zia descended the stairs and Jeremiah let his eyes linger on her graceful approach.

You have no claim on her, the dark voice inside his mind whispered. You’re the unwelcome guest who overshares his personal life. Remember your place. It’s not with these happy people, who have each other. His inner monologue brought down his mood even further.

Myko, not one for reading the room, positively glowed.

“Father’s here, mom!”

Jeremiah realized the boy worshiped his father, and he could only hope the Raeth was worthy of the high praise.

“Sehrin.” One of Zia’s brows arched upward in question. “I wasn’t aware you were coming.”

“Must I inform you of my comings and goings?”

Jeremiah straightened, barely resisting the urge to growl at the male’s crass response. These were family matters, and he tried to reel back the temper that’d begun to flame.

“I’d appreciate a little warning, yes.”

Sehrin’s snide smirk was the only warning he gave before his hand fisted on the back of Zia’s braid and pulled downward. When her chin raised, Sehrin claimed her lips without apology, possessively stealing what was clearly a forced kiss.

Jeremiah bristled, but before he could reach and arm out and shove Sehrin away from her, the other man retreated of his own accord. Sehrin raised his haughty gaze to Jeremiah, the smug intent all too clear: Zia was his.

Her cheeks burned red, but not with pleasure. A splash of anger registered on her features, but before she could speak, Sehrin cut her off.

“And where are you staying, Jeremiah? Surely, they have such an honored guest somewhere nicer than this?”

“Nicer than this?” Jeremiah scoffed. “You mean your son’s home?”

Brushing off the contempt, Sehrin looped a possessive arm around Zia’s waist and jerked her into his side with all the territoriality of a snarling tiger. “Well, you can’t be staying here, now can you? Unfinished bedrooms, only one working bathroom.”

“Two,” the Elemental growled. “Zia and I finished it days ago.”

Sehrin’s condescending laugh conceded: “Two, then.”

“We have an extra condo on clan lands.” Zia didn’t meet Jeremiah’s eyes, and she didn’t shrug out of Sehrin’s possessive grip. “Jeremiah was staying there. And when Myko took a shine to Jeremiah, he offered to help get the house in better shape.”

The immediate denial of their relationship hit hard. Jeremiah couldn’t lie to himself any longer that what they’d shared had meant anything to her. A hollowing sensation expanded behind his breastbone, and he could only stare at Zia while the conversation progressed.

“Perhaps the time would’ve been better served getting Myko’s gifts in line.” Casting an admonishing look to his son—who cringed—Sehrin rolled his shoulders lazily. “Well, I’m starved. Zia, make that pork roast I like. And rice pilaf. You’re dismissed, Jeremiah.”

“Been a real pleasure meeting you, Sorren.”

An intentional snub, but one that the male Raeth didn’t respond to. Without another word, Sehrin strode from the foyer, grabbing Myko’s arm when his son hesitated and pulling him along after him.

Alone with Zia, he couldn’t find it in himself to be upset with her for minimizing what had taken place between them. Sehrin was her child’s father; she had every reason to protect her relationship with him. The fact that the clanless Raeth had manhandled her only made Jeremiah infuriated on her behalf, but he was, at best, an intruder in their dynamics and may not have the right picture.

“Enjoy the time with your family, Zia.” The words tasted chalky on his tongue, and he could barely resist spitting them out without disdain. “Myko clearly looks up to his dad.”

She cleared her throat. “Myko loves him. He idolizes him.” Zia’s fists absently banged against her sides in a nervous tick before she finally met his eyes. “I—I’ll see you in a bit, okay?”

Another dismissal, this one far sharper than the clanless bully giving him orders in a house that wasn’t even his.

Jeremiah left. Outside, the wind whistled sharply, cutting across his cheekbones and exposed skin. He didn’t do anything about it.

* * *

Three hours passed while he killed time. The dome where Zia and Nero’s offices were housed also held a game room and lounge area, complete with a coffee spot that had surprisingly good joe. After tinkering with Nero’s technology for an hour or so, he caught up on emails. When he finally couldn’t put it off any longer, he did what he’d promised.

The first call he made was to Isaiah. The Raeth answered on the first ring, his voice sounding smug. “I know someone’s who’s looking for you.”

“Golly gee, I wonder who,” Jeremiah bit back, then remembered his purpose. “I have a favor to ask of you.”

“You have a favor to ask of me? What could you possibly ask that I’d give you?”

“It isn’t for me. It’s—it’s for a kid.”

Silence lingered between them over the static for half a minute before Isaiah cleared his throat. “What kid?”

“One who is struggling with an ability similar to yours, and going through a very isolating time. He’s eight, and I hate seeing the boy so sad and alone,” Jeremiah sputtered, grasping at straws. “Please.”

“One of Nero’s?”

“Yeah.”

Isaiah sighed. “I’ll work with him. I’ll reach out to Nero to ask after him. What’s his name?”

“Myko.”

“Consider it done.” A pause. “Rukia worries about you. I’ve no idea why, considering you’re a waste of space, but you will ease my mate’s heart, or I’ll do you a couple more ‘favors’ you won’t like as much.”

“She’ll be fine.” Shrugging it off, and wanting to hasten the conclusion of their conversation, Jeremiah said, “Thank you, Isaiah.”

“I haven’t done anything yet, Elemental, but since I will be—”

“What?”

“—You’ll do a favor for me.”

Here we go. Jeremiah cleared his throat. “What do you want?”

“Answer when the mother of my child calls.” It was a terrifying tone if Jeremiah had ever heard one. “If you keep on putting her off and worrying her, letting her think you’ve died or been eaten by Hawaiian sharks, I’ll ensure you never feel the wind on your skin again.”

The Raeth sovereign hung up without another word. Grumbling at his own foolish expense, Jeremiah flipped through emails and texts. His thumb hovered over the string of unanswered texts from Rukia.

Soon, he thought.

Reclining in a leather chair while he shot off a few work-related emails, Jeremiah didn’t notice Zia until she was ten feet in front of him, a covered basket in her hands.

“I’m surprised you aren’t beating up some poor defenseless human.”

Chuffing a good-natured laugh, Jeremiah locked his phone. “Decided to take the day off. Too much of a good thing and the humans are liable to start protesting.”

Zia’s tone sobered. “I’m sorry about what happened when Sehrin arrived. He … surprised me. It’s intentional on his part, to catch me unaware. I used to get visibly angry, but that just gives him what he wants. And I didn’t want to speak to him about what’s happened between you and I until I could figure out how to tell him without him twisting things to Myko.”

Jeremiah rose from where he’d been lounging. “And what is happening between you and me? I want to hear your version of it. Was my kiss not transparent?”

“I’m not ashamed of it, Jeremiah, if that’s what you’re asking.”

When his fingers gently brushed her cheek, she shivered and leaned into the touch.

“Just embarrassed?”

Violet eyes snapped open. “Why would I be embarrassed?”

“Because I’m an Elemental. Because I failed at Kane’s and the word got around,” he offered, surprisingly unaffected by her fury. “Because I’m younger than you? I don’t know, take your pick.”

“You’re infuriating sometimes, that’s what you are.”

“Just sometimes?” he echoed, laughing.

Jeremiah laughed gamely as Zia stalked forward and playfully shoved him. He stumbled a step backward. When his back collided with a wall, he clicked his tongue. “Making me cower now? Closing off my escape route?”

“Resistance is futile.”

And then her lips were on his. Her body pushed against his, the soft against the hard, and it was all Jeremiah could do to restrain the ferocity that coursed through his veins. Politeness forgotten, Zia claimed him, linking her arms around his neck and demanding he met her in the middle.

All of his troubles, anger, and guilt constricted, until his entire world was limited to just Zia. The only thing he remained conscious of was the way her lips burned into his.

Grasping her hips, he hauled her even closer, then flipped them so that she was the one pressed against the wall. A startled sound left her lips, but it only beckoned him onward, growling with need.

She didn’t move as his teeth bit into the sensitive area between her neck and her shoulder, claiming her as though he had a right to. Heat poured into the space between them, igniting a wave of lust he had no hope of quelling.

But she did.

Her giggle made him pause, the girlish sound making his lips curl. When she spoke, her voice was full of amusement. “I spilled the jelly.”

Blinking confused at her for a minute, he watched as she rolled her eyes before pointing over his shoulder. He followed her finger to find an open jar of jam on the ground, spilled out of the basket she’d brought with her.

“And why does the lady have jelly?”

“Because I brought you a picnic.”

Zia traipsed over to jar. Carefully, she picked it up, ensuring none of the strawberry jam had gotten onto the carpeting.

“We’re going to the lighthouse.”

“Are we?”

“Yes,” she snapped back, gathering up the basket and his phone in one fell swoop. “So, let’s go before I get sucked into another episode of ‘finding my tongue inside Jeremiah’s mouth.’”