“Sit,” he said, indicating a dark brown leather recliner with a tilt of his head. “Relax.”
I obeyed without hesitation, resting in the chair across from his desk. I breathed in the familiar scent of leather.
He padded to that desk, rested his cigar in an ashtray, and palmed a remote. He pressed a series of buttons, dimming the lights and causing a holoscreen to materialize over the far wall. A man’s image flashed into focus. Human, thirty-something. Pale hair, a long aristocratic nose. Thin lips, but a handsome visage nevertheless. Arrogant brown eyes regarded the world with a nothing-can-hurt-me gleam.
Even with the warnings about the sun’s dangerous rays, Jonny Boy obviously spent a lot of time outside. His skin was deeply tanned and lined more than it should have been. An aura of self-importance enveloped him.
I disliked him already.
“Does he like women or men?” I asked.
“He likes power.”
“Typical.”
“He’s been married three times. The first wife died in a car accident.” Michael pressed another button, and the image of a gorgeous young woman filled the screen. Black hair, green eyes. Flawless skin. “Her brand-new tires blew.”
“Convenient for him.”
“The second wife died in a car accident, as well.” Another young woman, this one with silvery white hair and big blue eyes, consumed the screen.
“Let me guess. Her brand-new tires blew?”
“No, her sensors gave out.”
“What tragic accident befell his third wife?” I asked.
“Amazingly enough, she’s still alive.”
She wouldn’t be for long, I thought. Not if Jonathan Parker had his way. I gazed up at the third wife’s picture. Glossy red hair, sparkling brown eyes. A sultry vibe radiated from her.
“Obviously Parker likes his women young and pretty. Too bad they don’t live long.” I tapped my knee with one finger, smashing the puffed, satin dress. “There wouldn’t happen to be a hit on him, would there?”
Michael’s entire expression lit with amusement, easing the age lines around his mouth. “At this time, no, there isn’t a hit on Parker.”
“Too bad.” I took another sip of my Scotch and savored the rich taste in my mouth for a long while. I wondered what type of persona Lucius—a.k.a. Hunter—had donned in order to immerse himself in Parker’s world. Lucius wouldn’t be tattooed. Nor would he be pierced. Most likely he’d have to wear a suit and tie, perhaps sport a pair of glasses. A sigh slipped from me as I set my glass on the small table beside me. No matter what persona he used, he’d be sexy as hell.
“Tell me about the man I’ll be interpreting for.”
“Her name is Claudia Chow, and she’s major player in the alien rights movement. Her dedication to other-worlder equality has made her the first human ambassador of alien goodwill.” He grinned a guess-what-I’ve-done-now grin. “As of now she’s on my payroll.”
“Ambassador of alien goodwill?” I snorted. “What did you tell her about me?”
“Only that my daughter desired a change of scenery and needed a new job. I almost couldn’t convince her to help me. However, the moment she learned her interpreter was a Raka, she relented. I think she sees you as a new prize pet she’ll get to parade around and show off.”
“I can hardly wait,” I said, my sarcasm heavy.
He pointed a finger at me. “Don’t you dare kill her.”
All innocence, I blinked over at him. “Give me some credit. I do know how to use restraint when the situation warrants it.”
A teasing light glowed in his eyes. “I thought so, too, until I saw you with Lucius. You’re…different around him. Why is that?”
“That man—” My hands clenched. Michael was right. I was different with Lucius. More emotional. Lustful. On edge. Why? I didn’t understand and couldn’t answer Michael’s question. “You trust him completely?”
“Of course.” Slowly he frowned. “I never would have paired you with him otherwise.” Michael lifted his cigar, rolling it between his fingers and causing smoke to waft around his hand. “This is a good plan the two of you have put together.”
“Him. Not me.” I crossed my arms. “I wish I could take credit.” As soon as I spoke, I realized how true those words were and how great my bitterness. I might desire Lucius, but I resented him, too. This assignment should have belonged to me, and me alone. Not Lucius. Yet so far he was moving the pieces of the game on his own.
Was it wrong of me to feel that way? Yes. Did that matter? No.
Michael shook his head. “Sweetie, you’ve been injured. Don’t be so hard on yourself. It’s not a competition between you and Lucius.”
Yes, it was. Sometimes I felt like I was in competition with the entire world. I wanted to be the best. Always. At everything.
“Go get some rest, Eden. We’ll talk more tomorrow.”
No point in arguing. I planned to go to bed as he’d suggested, I just didn’t plan on resting. There was something I needed to do first. I pushed to my feet, closed the distance between us, and kissed his stubbled cheek.
“Good night,” I told him.
He eyed me suspiciously, since he wasn’t used to me obeying his orders. “Love you.” I patted the cheek I’d kissed and strolled to the sanctity of my room. My feet sank into the rug as I skidded around a gold lamp and into my closet. I changed out of my dress and into a black shirt and a pair of black pants. I put on boots, not heels, and crawled atop the velvet green comforter.
Moonlight drizzled through the curtains, and the sounds of the night seeped from wall speakers, offering a lazy, almost sultry tune. Crickets hummed, and cars zoomed. I closed my eyes against the programmed noise.
I was going spirit-walking.
Chapter 8
Keeping my eyes closed, I internalized my focus to the deepest part of myself, gathering my energy there. Warmth soon churned inside my stomach, leaving the rest of my body cold. Determinedly I began to push that energy forward with mental hands, the weight of flesh separating from the etherealness of soul.
A cracking sound filled my ears. Slowly, so slowly, my spirit rose out of my body. Though the feat had become easier over the years, such a disconnection—for that was exactly what it was—required intense concentration and strength.
I’d wanted to visit Lucius so many times this past week, but had resisted. He’d called every night to give me a progress report, and every night I’d waited in anticipation of that call. Too much anticipation. By resisting seeing him, I had proved to myself that I didn’tneed to see him. He wasn’t a necessity. I had myself under control, and my defenses against him were well fortified. So what that I’d thought about him constantly today.
I took immense delight in the fact that he’d never know I had visited him.
We were located in different states, but that didn’t matter. I’d find him. Usually I had to be within a mile or so of my target because I had to walk the actual distance to reach him. That had never been the case with Michael, who I could reach anywhere, anytime. After my kiss with Lucius, I knew it would not be the case with him either.
With my spirit freed completely, I became suspended in a place between reality and death, experiencing only an ephemeral lightness. I stood at the edge of the bed and stared down at my physical body. Even though I’d done this countless times before, I always experienced shock when I saw myself lying on the bed—there, but not really there.
The first time my spirit exited my body had been an accident. I’d been a little girl, only four years old, and had just discovered my parents’ lifeless bodies sprawled in blood. In my bedroom. I’d run from them, run outside screaming for help. Michael had scooped me up and carried me back inside, to the nearest room. My parents’ room. He’d placed me in their bed, said, “Stay here. Don’t move. I’ll take care of them,” then raced away to do just that.