Chapter 42 - Above Cursed Winds

Eight days of clean-up efforts held Zia and Jeremiah back from venturing to Paracel. In addition to storm debris, broken glass and bullet holes spotted buildings. Fortunately, the clan had a matter welder, a Raeth capable of curing what’d been broken. Broken glass had reformed perfectly, and Zia had happily observed Jeremiah’s awestruck fixation with the talent.

It’d been the topic of conversation around the dinner table several times, about as much as Myko pondered the significance of Jeremiah’s altered eye color.

When he’d discovered the change to his eyes, her mate had stared mutely at the bathroom mirror for an hour, cocking his head to each side and blinking at himself. The Elemental had called Zia and Myko in to confirm the change, as if he couldn’t believe his own eyes—literally.

Then he’d called Gideon and they’d spent two hours on the phone talking about it. Zia, of course, had shamelessly eavesdropped, then finally joined their conversation when Jeremiah put the monarch on speakerphone.

They’d all agreed not to test the theory that Jeremiah was now mostly immune to death.

The breach that had brought them together had been solved. Once they had discovered that the Citizens Raeth was a technopath—and not a hacker—it had changed things. Remmus had used the same ability to re-engineer all of their technology to resist intrusion. Moreover, he’d gone through all of the devices the Accords-signing dignitaries possessed, pulling what scraps of information he'd found out of each before compiling the complete picture of how the hack had been possible.

Initially, there’d been a mention of the address list in a text conversation between Kane and Drake, with the latter responding that ‘Zia has it’. From there, Remmus was able to put together what little he’d found to bridge the gaps.

It was how the Citizens had known about the Search and Rescue operation that the Elementals ran. Why the Citizens had always been one step ahead of them.

That was about to change.

With the knowledge they now held, Remmus could trick the other technopath into believing they were speaking about anything—and thereby lay a trap in which they’d come out on top.

There were very few good things that’d come from the intrusion, but having a better understanding of their enemy was one silver lining.

What remained unsolved was the matter of the photographs. No one could remember being tailed when they had been taken. The apartment, too, had been a bust—the Raeth who owned it never returned, and the little they did have on him was a dead end. For the time being, they’d wait. The enemy would show themselves, and when they did, the immortals would be ready.

The day before, Zia had tested her wings. Luna had repaired the damage Sehrin had caused, but the residual ache of the bitter memory hadn’t left her.

After a brief flight to confirm she’d been left with no permanent damage, she returned home. For the first time in ages, she simply couldn’t stand being alone. It’d been her constant throughout the years: solitude. Myko’s arrival had changed the status quo, but the feeling had never left her.

Gideon and Rona, having been assured by Key that their part in the play was ‘over’, had returned to Paracel only a day after Jeremiah and Zia’s mating. While they hadn’t had a chance to celebrate, Zia had assured them there’d be time for that soon.

She couldn’t wait.

After so long without companionship, Zia’s soul had almost become a dried husk. Jeremiah, with his infectious positivity finally returning, had gone a long way to restoring balance.

The mating had had the same transformative effect on him. The change to his psychic signature was impossible to miss. Nero had confirmed it yesterday, just out of earshot of the Elemental: he’d nearly returned to his original signature, before Gideon’s near demise. While it wasn’t a carbon copy of the first, it was almost a mirror image. The snippets of hope she’d experienced since he’d arrived, the bubbly nature and sharp wit she’d sampled briefly, were returning in force.

And there had been more obvious changes, too. When she and Jeremiah had mated, the Osé clan mark had appeared on his right pectoral. Now, Jeremiah officially had two allegiances: to Paracel and the Elementals, and to Nero and the Osé.

Now, Zia would be going to Paracel, not as a representative of her clan, but as Jeremiah’s mate. Nervously pulling at the hem of her sweater, she felt Jeremiah’s fingers slip through hers.

“They’re going to love you, Z. Besides, you’ve already met them.”

“Yeah,” she replied, unconvinced. “And the last time I saw them, I’d just let locations for all their territories leak to a terrorist organization. Really great first impression.”

Jeremiah’s chuckle made her fist connect playfully with his shoulder, where he captured it and planted a kiss lovingly on each knuckle. “If they don’t like you, I’ll just steal breath from their lungs until they behave.”

“Lovely. Another thing they can blame me for.”

Laughing like the fool he was, Jeremiah suddenly picked her up. Instinctively, her legs wrapped around his waist and her fingers sunk into her scalp. His lustrous red strands came loose as she claimed his mouth, needing the warmth of his kiss.

Growling back at her, Jeremiah pinned her against the wall, letting the sculpted muscle of his torso push into the soft curves of hers. And then his mouth was roaming to her neck, the hard bite of his teeth skimming along the sensitized flesh. He kissed a trail up the slender column toward her chin, worshiping her like the prize he assured her she was.

Sighing softly, Zia dropped her chin to breathe in the scent of sunshine that clung to his skin. It never failed to ignite a fire in her, and it succeeded in completely stoking the flames that already licked over her skin.

But they had someplace to be. If they continued down this path, she’d drag him back to their bed for another three hours. Groaning, Zia’s fingers tightened in that lustrous red mane.

“We have to go, Jeremiah.”

“Kill sport,” he muttered against her neck, gently scrapping his teeth along her skin once more before pulling back. “However will they know you’re mine if I don’t leave a mark?”

Zia’s eyes widened. “Don’t you dare!”

Letting out a mock scream when his teeth sunk in along her neck, she dissolved into a fit of giggles as he finished his primitive mark. Pressing a kiss into the same spot, he tossed her a ravishing grin.

“There. I’m ready to go now.”

Zia playfully swatted his chest. “You’re a caveman.”

Five minutes later, they’d collected Myko, and the boy was positively bouncing on his toes. He’d been chattering nonstop about the Elemental town, spouting off facts Gideon had clued him into while they’d been here.

Listening to him with undivided attention, Jeremiah grinned as Myko began a philosophical conversation about how Raeths and Elementals had to have had a common ancestor.

Nero’s telepathic knock sounded on her psychic door, and her reply was instantaneous. We’re ready when you are, sovereign.

I’ll follow in a few. Wrapping up some things with Nolan and our resident futurist.

Even though Zia frowned, she responded, Of course. Thank you, Nero.

Weightless for all of two seconds, Zia blinked to clear her vision. All three of them had landed within the magnificent dome in Paracel. Copious amounts of ivy sprawled up the walls and large wooden beams spanned overhead.

Though she’d been there several times before, she had never quite gotten over her awe. Jeremiah didn’t need to recover from any wayward wonderment. Instead, he was greeted by a contrite Rukia who shoved him as soon as he’d solidified.

“What the heck, Jeremiah?”

Scrunching up his nose, the wind Elemental’s expression twisted. “What now?”

Another shove. “You dissolved into your element? What kind of stupid code ran in your head to justify that ridiculous move?”

“I—”

“No!” Straight white teeth gleamed at him, and Rukia drew water from the air and suddenly drenched him, head to toe. “Only Gideon is stupid enough to do that trick. What if you couldn’t reform? What if you’d been left floating aimlessly above our heads forever? Like Casper?!”

Soaked, Jeremiah wiped water from his face while Zia suppressed a giggle and Myko laughed, utterly delighted with the antics. He shot his family a chagrined glare before returning his focus to Rukia.

“I’m fine. All back in one piece.”

But Rukia wasn’t appeased. “Damn it, Jeremiah—you could’ve died!” Another water spray hit him squarely in the face.

And then suddenly, the anger that’d amassed within the water Elemental dissolved, and she was clutching him in a fierce hug. As Jeremiah gently folded her against him, Zia could only marvel. Rukia’s mate, Isaiah, slowly walked over to them.

“She’s been upset, Jeremiah,” the Raeth sovereign said. “Don’t risk your life again. I’d never hear the end of it.”

“Anything to appease you, Raeth.” But her mate was smiling, still combing his fingers through Rukia’s hair. “I promise, Ruk. No more death-defying stunts, no more coercion, no more dissolving into nothing.”

“And no more mating without my permission.”

Gripping Rukia’s arms, Jeremiah straight armed her out in front of him. “No more mating, huh? Pretty sure it’s one and done, squirt.”

“I hate that nickname!”

Jeremiah and Rukia dissolved into a wrestling match, with the water Elemental using her abilities to spray him in the face multiple times. Pretty soon, the play-fighting had turned into a Raeth clan-tattoo comparison contest between the two friends. Zia laughed at their antics, petting Myko’s hair while he gripped her hand tightly, and tried not to feel too self-conscious when the Raeth sovereign Isaiah came to stand by her side.

“Children, both of them,” came his deep voiced comment.

While she would’ve tensed at the words, the playful note beneath his tone had her shoulders loosening. Myko’s curiosity got the better of him, and he blinked up at the massive Raeth male.

“Who are you?”

A genuine smile tugged at the man’s lips. “Isaiah, sovereign of the Sylth. And you’re Myko, aren’t you?”

The sovereign held out a hand in greeting, but Myko winced. “I—my power isn’t nice. I don’t think I should shake your hand.”

“If you always fear it, you’ll never control it,” came Isaiah’s reply, “but if you’d prefer not to, I can respect that.”

And still, the man’s hand hovered before Myko. When the boy drew in a deep breath and his tiny hand slid into Isaiah’s, Zia watched the Raeth sovereign carefully.

As soon as their skin made contact, Isaiah stilled. His eyes widened almost imperceptibly; his breath stuttered for half a moment. And then those eyes were catching Myko’s, not in fear, but in awe.

“You’ve a gift, Myko. I’m impressed, truth be told, and that’s not easy to do. If you’ll have me, I can help teach you to control it.”