Deceived (Burned Book 2) Read online

  "He asked when we were going to get married and I lost it a little." I rushed out, unable to stand the heavy silence. "I apologize."

  Mollified he wrapped his arm around my waist, fingers smoothing the sting from the earlier bite of his nails. It was as close to an apology as I'd get.

  "Let them think what they want."

  "You're right. It just gets so frustrating."

  "You know you are more than arm-candy." His lips quirked as his stilted accent stumbled over the foreign term.

  I couldn't help the answering smile as we walked into the main room.

  Earlier tension disintegrated, we fell into a familiar pattern. We schmoozed with the important people: judges, police, attorneys, and legislators. Even the governor made an appearance with his wife. As a member of the North Florida House, which encompassed the panhandle to Jacksonville, he was allowed to move throughout districts as his position required. He was a devious fellow. Power-hungry and cruel, the almighty dollar was his God. His piercing glare dismissed me and zeroed in on Alejandro. His wife, pale and ghostly, was a gentle and intensely private woman. I ached to delve deeper, to find out how she dealt with life in the House. Her white-blonde hair was barely a shade darker than her flowing ivory dress. Beautiful but waifish, a strong breeze could have blown her over. Her blue eyes were dull with the countenance of someone who had seen too much. And had given up fighting it.

  A shiver racked my spine.

  Was I looking into my future?

  Our conversation was brief but pleasant, and as forgettable as all the others.

  After feigned promises to get together for a lunch that would never happen, we moved on to the next power-hungry politician.

  I used to love events like these. Loved showing off my expensive new dress and accessories, mingling with the well-to-dos and the so-called important people. It was a thrill.

  But that feeling was long-gone, replaced with a bitterness that grew with each one. Nurtured by the false smiles, fake boobs, and lies that were everywhere I turned. I could barely stand it. The dancing symbols shimmered everywhere, almost as blinding as the media frenzy outside.

  A familiar voice called my name. Relieved, a genuine smile burst forth. Finally, someone real.

  "Arabella, how lovely to see you again." Martha Sams wrapped her arms around me in a fierce embrace, squeezing the breath from my lungs as she kissed both cheeks.

  "You too, Martha." My eyes widened when I recognized the man that walked up next to the prosecutor.

  "Zak," I sputtered. Clearing my throat I added, "It's nice to see you."

  "I didn't know you two knew each other." A speculative gleam appeared in her eyes. Never one to hide her true feelings, it was well-known she despised Alejandro. It was her mission to convince me to leave him, personally and professionally.

  "Knock it off, Martha." My threat was kind. I knew she meant well.

  "You can't fault me for trying." She winked at me. "If I was a little younger I'd be after him myself." The prosecutor wagged her eyebrows like Groucho Marx. Cheeks lightly tinged pink, Zak ignored her but his laughing eyes never left mine.

  "Did you leave the snake at home?" All smiles, Martha's voice held a bite of venom. I nudged her, my laughter dissipated with the annoyance her comments sparked.

  "Alejandro," I emphasized his name, "is chatting with the Senator."

  "Snakes like them deserve each other."

  "You don't like them, Martha?" Zak shifted and zeroed his attention onto the older woman, fascinated by this unexpected fountain of information. I knew he'd be questioning her all night and she'd oblige.

  "Not a bit. Arabella could do so much better." She glanced behind me to where the Senator and Alejandro were talking halfway across the room. "He may look pretty, but he's still slimy underneath." Chilled at her accuracy, I glanced back at the two snakes in question.

  "I know you don't like him, but for my sake can you please be cordial? I have to deal with the aftermath," I pleaded.

  "No, you don't have to do anything. You choose to stay with him." She was ridiculously off the mark there.

  While I had made my choice years ago, leaving was no longer an option available to me. An unfamiliar desire to explain myself had me opening my mouth, but I snapped it shut. What could I say?

  Zak's eyes met mine. The understanding in their depths loosened the tight coil in my chest. My skin heated and prickled as if he'd physically touched me. I trembled with restraint, wanting to dive into the comfort of his arms.

  Alejandro slithered his arm around my waist, his hand resting on my hip in a possessive gesture. Zak stiffened. His gaze riveted to the man in question.

  "Ms. Sams, how lovely to see you again." The vampire's words dripped with false sincerity. I didn't bother to look, I knew lies would be dancing on his skin.

  "Alejandro," she grumbled in greeting. Her nose wrinkled as if she'd smelled something foul.

  He glanced at me, brow raised, and waited to be introduced to the only unfamiliar face in the group.

  "Alejandro, this is Dr. Zachary Brenninger." They shook hands briskly. Zak's eyes dissected him, looking for anything out of place, anything that appeared nonhuman. But he wouldn't find it, not here anyway. After over half a millennium, the vampire played human with ease.

  I never did explain my slip to him the other night. I'd refused to elaborate and feigned exhaustion until he drove me to my car at the club. I'd avoided him since, struggling to find the words that would appease his curiosity.

  I tensed with the sudden urge to escape. My heart raced with the desire. I wanted to drag Alejandro away from my friend. I swallowed and forced myself to relax lest the vampire suspect anything.

  "Where do you practice, Dr. Brenninger?" Alejandro asked. It seemed an innocent question, but I knew it was anything but.

  "I'm a psychiatrist." He risked a quick glance at me but snapped his eyes back to Alejandro. "I work with the courts providing competency evaluations for hearings, and various other things. I also have a private practice in town."

  Alejandro's focus sharpened; his gaze intensified on the younger man. The wheels were turning, some idea was forming in his dark mind. My heart slammed against my chest and I racked my brain for something—anything—to distract his calculating plans. Zak's gentle nature didn't belong anywhere near the House. I forced a calm I didn't feel while inside I was almost frantic.

  And for once fate smiled in my direction—or Zak's at least.

  "What was the commotion out front with that reporter?" Martha broke the speculative silence.

  Alejandro's face scrunched into an irritated frown at the reminder of my outburst. I'd rather face his ire than have Zak anywhere on his radar.

  "A reporter got a little too nosy and I lost my temper."

  "Good." Martha nodded. "Some of them are vicious little weasels." She enjoyed my sharp wit and retorts.

  "She knows better than to give them more to speculate about," Alejandro snapped.

  "She knows not to let them walk all over her," Martha snarled back, meeting the vampire's glare with one of her own.

  It was past time for us to move on. I leaned into Alejandro's body. My breast brushed his side as I slid close.

  "Isn't that Jonathan Browalski, the attorney general?" I whispered in his ear, pretending to be uncertain. "Didn't you say you needed to catch him before he escaped early?" My pointed gaze met his as I entwined our fingers and tugged gently.

  "Yes, of course." He accepted my graceful out, taking the hint. "Always keeping me focused and on task." His lips brushed mine in a gentle kiss, thumb grazing over my cheek as he cradled my face in his hand.

  Zak averted his gaze, but not before I caught the hurt that flashed. It tore at me. Ripped out a piece of my heart and spread it on the floor to be trampled. But I'd take his hurt feelings and the pain it caused me over another dead body any day.

  "Ms. Sams. Dr. Brenninger." He nodded politely to each. "It was a pleasure."

  Martha struggle
d to hold in her snort. Zak nodded in return, his eyes flat.

  I followed Alejandro through the crowded room but glanced back just in time to catch Martha pouncing on Zak. Her shrewd eyes hadn't missed a thing. I just hoped she was the only one.

  A gasp stuck in my throat. I stiffened and jerked my head forward. My heart pounded.

  Alejandro was focused on the next power play, uncaring about anything else at the moment. I continued to make the appropriate social gestures and noises, pretended to pay attention to their banter and calculated moves, while inside a whirlwind of emotions beat at me and tore at my heart.

  Did I see her?

  Was the flash of short dark hair and flaming eyes real? Or just a figment of my overstressed imagination.

  Was that really Kyra?

  Chapter Twenty-Two

  I searched for Kyra everywhere after spotting her at the charity gala. I'd catch a hint of short dark hair in the gallery at the courthouse and get derailed from my defense. My eyes would scan the crowds in front of the courthouse and at restaurants. People started to comment on how distracted I was becoming. She was wreaking havoc on my life.

  I'd finally convinced myself she was either a figment of my imagination, or someone who just happened to look a hell of a lot like her.

  When I stopped looking, stopped searching for her in every crowd, that's when I saw her again.

  I sat alone at my favorite cafe across from the courthouse grabbing a quick lunch, when she slipped in the seat across from mine. I choked on the sip of tea I'd just taken and almost spat it in her face.

  After I finished coughing down the hot drink, we sat in silence and glared at each other across the table. For a woman on the run she looked good. Her dark hair was a mess of gelled spikes, mused but stylish, like she'd been running her fingers through it. Brown eyes, clear and focused, drilled into mine, radiating with anger.

  "Can I get you anything?" my server asked, unaware of the brewing tension.

  "Coffee please." Kyra smiled at the woman. Her eyes never left mine.

  "I'm good, thanks," I ground out, unable to move as I watched her. My hands strangled my mug.

  My mind spun. It was her at the gala. How had she been right under Alejandro's nose and he never felt her?

  "How?" I sputtered, shock robbing me of any gracefulness.

  "Fey magic, stupid." She smirked, her eyes danced with triumph.

  "How did you talk a fey into going against Alejandro and spellbinding him?" My eyes widened. Were there more traitors in the House?

  She rolled her eyes, a scowl settling on her face. "How can you be in the House so long, and be so utterly clueless?"

  A flush warmed my cheeks. Shame followed closely on its heels.

  "Yes, when Alejandro feeds he can feel where his chattel is. In the cases of some preternaturals," she gestured to herself, "the sensation can be mutual. The more frequent the exchange, the easier it is to find each other."

  My eyes widened. I didn't know it could be a two-way street.

  "I found a fey who can block whatever it is that I put out that allows him to sense me."

  "You found a fey to work with you?" She wasn't exactly diplomatic. The fey were sensitive and easily offended. They thrived on ritual and tradition. That was one reason they fit in so well within the House, and were employed in so many positions.

  Her laugh was loud and unexpected in the silence of the almost empty cafe. Alarmed, I glanced up, my eyes darting around the cafe. While everyone had turned, drawn by her sultry laugh, I didn't recognize anyone from the House.

  "Don't worry, I checked the place out before I joined you. I wouldn't want anything to happen to you and your precious position." Her glare, dark and dangerous, caused a rippling of unease. Kyra could kill me where I sat with little more than a thought. I tensed, my heart pounding in my chest.

  The tension rose as the server returned with Kyra's coffee. It stretched in a thin taught line as Kyra added cream and sugar to her dark brew. The spoon clinked as it beat against the sides of her cup, the annoying sound made me want to throw something at her.

  "I won't kill you." She crossed her arms in front of her and leaned back in her seat. The steam from the coffee rose between us. "No matter how much I want to." A darkness moved behind her eyes, the thing that screamed other.

  Hairs lifted on the back of my neck as dread settled in my belly. "Why are you here?" I pushed my salad away, my appetite gone.

  Her brow furrowed. "I don't know exactly." Her skin stayed smooth, nothing danced beneath the surface.

  "You killed Daniel." She blew on her coffee, cradling it between her cupped hands.

  Her declaration ripped off the sensitive scabs that covered the wound on my heart. I swallowed the tears that threatened, steeling my spine with resolve. "You're just as much at fault as I am." I tossed back at her, enjoying the pain that my words inflicted.

  "I know." The words were heavy, choked through a throat tightened with sorrow.

  Any feelings of triumph fled. We both loved him and we both failed him. Miserably.

  "I still feel him sometimes," she admitted, her voice barely above a whisper. She never removed her gaze from her coffee cup.

  I was afraid of what I'd see if she did.

  "I feel him in the room with me, like if I turn fast enough I might catch a glimpse of him." Her pain was raw. Terrible and all encompassing. It ate away at my defenses. My heart thundered with the effort to hold itself together.

  "But I'm never fast enough." Her eyes met mine and I drowned in the sorrow I found there. A tear escaped despite my best efforts.

  "I feel nothing but emptiness," I admitted, revealing my aching insides to my almost friend. She was the catalyst for my downward spiral, my sworn enemy, and I hated her. But I couldn't stop the words. She was the only person that might understand. "Everywhere I turn there is just an empty hole where he should be."

  I had to look away before the tears won and broke free as my reluctant admission had. Instead I watched the people that crossed in front of the windows as they went about their day, clueless as to what was really going on around them.

  "I want to hate you." Her pause was thick. I returned my gaze to hers. "But I can't."

  Tension left my shoulders. I felt the same way. "Aren't we a pair?"

  She scoffed and brought her mug back to her lips.

  "Where do we go from here?" I asked, hoping she had some answers. I was lost in a sea of confusion, nauseous from the effort of trying to stay afloat. "You know he has orders to bring you in. He wants to kill you himself."

  Laughter lightened the tightness around her eyes. "Like anyone would survive catching me."

  True.

  But by not picking up my cell and reporting her whereabouts I was sticking myself in his cross hairs.

  "What's your plan?" Her question caught me off guard.

  "Survive." And that was it. I had nothing else. Despair weighed heavily and my shoulders sank.

  "How long do you think that will last?"

  "As long as it does, I suppose." Not long enough.

  "That's not living." Her eyes softened. The constant harsh glare was absent. She felt sorry for me.

  I tried to drudge up the indignation I should feel, but there was nothing. "No. It's not."

  "There's a whole movement out there, out in the real world." Her words were almost cryptic.

  "I live in the real world."

  She snorted and leaned forward, her hands flat on the table.

  "You live in a made up fairy tale that is crumbling around you." Her shrewd eyes narrowed, the vitriol tightened the band around my heart. "Only you don't have enough sense to get out."

  Anger pinched my lips, my chin lifted in defiance of her words. "I know—"

  "You think you're so high and mighty. Queen of the domain." Her booted foot landed with a heavy thud on the chair beside mine. It squeaked in protest, the shrill sound pulling back the skin around my mouth.

  "I don't—"
/>   "You do. Don't deny it. Your first instinct is to think about you. Protect you. I could understand if it was your life you were really worried about. But it's not, is it? It's your lifestyle." She spat the last word.

  "Maybe at first." I admitted through clenched teeth, my jaw popping with the frustration to hold back the scathing words that wanted to spill forth. How dare she? She wasn't any different than me. She made the same types of mistakes.

  My chest heaved as my breath fought to escape. "But the moment Daniel died everything changed." My green eyes met hers, their hazel depths shifting with color like the tiger's eye stone I shoplifted when I was ten. The unusual gem was too tempting to resist, but there was no room for luxuries like stones when it was a struggle to keep nine kids fed.

  Kyra crossed her arms, the muscles flexing and bunching with the movement. A shot of adrenaline had my head spinning. She could break me in half with little effort.

  My fear-saturated mind caught and held onto something she'd said. I rolled it over in my mind. "What do you mean a movement?"

  She shook her head again, my naïveté no longer amusing to her.

  "Don't you know anything?" A deep sigh exploded from her lungs. She deflated under the effort. "I'd think you were playing me but you really could be that clueless. Sad really." She clicked her tongue against the roof of her mouth.

  Shame heated my cheeks. "He keeps me in the dark on a lot of matters."

  "More like in an abyss." Unable to stay still, her booted foot wiggled. I wanted to smack her foot off the chair, but held onto my annoyance instead.

  "There are factions, opposing factions, in the underground." Her glare sharpened. "There's a war coming. It's approaching fast and it's going to leave a swath of destruction in its wake."

  "A war?" A laugh escaped. There were always cryptic discussions about Revelation—the planned reveal of the existence of the preternatual community. I even knew about the factions against others. But a war? "You're being overly dramatic."

  "Am I?" Her dark eyebrow kicked up. "Think about it." Her gaze never wavered; the intense stare ate away at my confidence. "What he had us do. What he still has you doing, am I right? The torture. The questions. The raids."