Tyler’s wounds had closed completely during the night. At least I had one thing to be thankful for. Dimitri called to check on Tyler, which in my opinion was a nice gesture, considering that he was married to Anya, and I couldn’t imagine her compassion cup overflowed for either of us. Maybe I wasn’t giving her enough credit. Maybe I was giving her too much.
Though he’d healed superficially, Tyler was still pretty wiped out. Traces of iron had spread through his system, nothing that couldn’t be cured with a little R &R, according to him. So I left him to sleep the day away, unofficially borrowing his motorcycle-hey, he wasn’t going anywhere-and I doubted he’d even realize it was gone. I left my coat at Tyler’s because I didn’t need the long tails tangling in the wheels of the sleek Buell street bike, and sped off through town toward the freeway.
I ducked my head, listening to the wind as it whooshed over the motorcycle helmet. I didn’t needed it for protection, though I might have gotten a ticket if I hadn’t worn one. It kept my hair from whipping around, however, so it served a certain function. I could have traveled as my ethereal self, but even with my preternatural speed, it would have taken a while to make it to the PNT building-and I was in a hurry.
The place looked even more forbidding than the last time I’d visited. But since I didn’t scare easily, I pulled right up to the gate and pushed the call button nice and long, just to annoy whoever was on the receiving end of the noise.
“State your name and business,” a crisp, thoroughly pissed voice said.
“Darian Charles, here on official business for Alexander Peck to see Delilah, the Oracle.” Unless the guard called to check, he’d have no idea I was lying. And I hoped my authoritative tone and use of Xander’s given name wouldn’t give him reason to doubt my being there.
“One moment,” the voice said.
I waited a good three minutes before the gates swung open to allow me entrance. The bike purred as I put it in gear and drove past the guard station and up the steep driveway to the Pacific Northwest Territories nondescript stronghold. I expected Adare to meet me in front of the building as he had the first time I’d been here, but instead of the easygoing Fae, someone I’d hoped not to see waited to escort me inside.
When I’d first laid eyes on him, he’d set me on edge. Now I could say that seeing him for a second time was no less unsettling. I wasn’t afraid; on the contrary, I felt strangely drawn to him. As if I couldn’t get off the bike fast enough, I parked, pulled the helmet from my head, and hung it on the handlebar. I had to force myself to slow as I approached him, my legs rebelling against the pace and urging my steps to quicken. His gaze, lowered toward the ground, rose slowly to meet my eyes, and a lazy, confident smile graced his face. Holy hell, but he was something to look at.
Fallon wasn’t the sort of regal, rugged handsome of Xander, and he was far from the tousled, supermodel gorgeous of Tyler. Rather, he was striking in a way that demanded attention. His features were sharp, precise, and betrayed his lack of humanity. Dark brown hair woven with reddish gold, clipped short in a style that bespoke an active life or military background, framed his face. Eyes, gray like storm clouds, studied me as he folded his arms across a broad chest. His legs were braced apart, military stance, stock-still and straight. His full lips spread into a smirk, and the expression somehow suited him. My body hummed as his energy funneled into me, making me feel too nervous and jittery to stand still. I knocked one boot against the other as if clearing the soles of dirt, and ran my hand through the wind-knotted ends of my hair. I lowered my gaze as I drew closer, unable to meet his eyes, but I could feel him watching me.
I gave myself a mental shake. Jesus, what the hell was wrong with me? You’d think I’d never been in the presence of a looks-and-power combination. Let’s face it; the supernatural community had its share of lookers, as well as power players. Many of us were beautiful and chock-full of energy that spoke of strength; it just came with the genetics. Or the magic. Or both. The sound of seconds passing that I’d trained myself to push to the back of my mind pounded in my veins as I walked toward him. Time would not be ignored as it slogged along, each moment like the tolling of a bell, a warning I could not heed. It must have been the power of Fae magic that drew me to him, though I hadn’t felt this way in Adare’s presence. Maybe I shouldn’t have taken Raif’s admonition so lightly. Too late now.
Fallon’s tongue traced a line along his bottom lip as if he’d just tasted something delicious-or wanted to. “This is an unexpected visit,” he said. “What can the PNT do for you?”
I stared at him, wondering why his voice should sound familiar. “The PNT can’t do anything for me,” I said. “I’m here to question Delilah.”
Fallon opened the door. He swept his arm before him as he waited for me to enter. “You can question her all you like,” he laughed. “But I doubt you’ll get any answers.”
The illusion of uninteresting small business carried over from the parking lot to the interior of the PNT’s building. A reception desk crowded the front of the open first floor, and seated at that desk was a very perky, very human woman. She greeted me with her best customer-service smile and turned her attention back to her computer screen, fingers flying on the keyboard. A small waiting area, complete with couches, magazines, and one of those pump coffee carafes and cups, looked, for the most part, unused. Beyond the front entrance, a row of elevators lined a far wall, and behind the receptionist’s desk were several small offices with closed metal doors. All in all, it was not an overly friendly atmosphere.
I felt Fallon’s presence behind me, the power he exuded nearly stealing my breath. He passed the reception desk toward the elevators, and I followed. One set of metal doors slid open, and Fallon stepped inside. I paused, my eyes scanning the small box and its lack of actual space. Anxiety coursed through my blood, and he met my gaze, his gray eyes burning into mine. “Afraid?” he asked.
The look he gave was an open challenge, and I wasn’t one to back down. But damned if I wasn’t off my game; he unsettled me, and I felt the sudden urge to wish out loud for Adare to be standing here with me instead. I clamped my jaw tight, as if my mouth might betray me and actually make the wish. Shooting a quick glance over my shoulder to the receptionist, I stepped inside and watched as the first floor was closed from my view. “Have you worked for the PNT long?” I asked. Raif hadn’t known him, only heard of him, and I assumed Raif to be very connected. If he didn’t know Fallon personally, he couldn’t have been here long.
Fallon pushed the button marked B for the basement floor. “No,” he said, confirming my suspicion, “I’ve been here only a couple of months. Came over from the Northeast Division. Connecticut.”
I didn’t think any of this information would be good for anything, but the small talk helped to calm my skittering nerves. “Needed a change of scenery?”
“You could say that,” Fallon answered. “Seattle holds something dear to me.”
Can you say awkward? I stared at my feet as our conversation died a quick and painful death. A million times over, I silently wished I’d stayed in bed with Tyler and wasted the day away. Instead, I was going out of my fucking mind with this stranger standing too close beside me, his unusual energy pulling my nerves so taut, I thought they’d snap.
The elevator stopped and the doors slid open, much to my relief. I wouldn’t have lasted another thirty seconds in such close proximity to my escort without clawing my way out of the elevator. I allowed him to walk in front of me, giving him a healthy head start. His gait was calm, easy with the fluid motion of a stalking cat. We made our way down a long hallway illuminated by a single row of fluorescent lights. None of the doors had latches, I noticed, but beside each on the wall was an electronic keypad. Fallon stopped at the end of the hall, turned to his right, and punched a code into the corresponding keypad.