I turned around and hooked my fingers under the hemline of my tank top.
Hart's lips popped open. “What are you doing?”
He made a move to stop me, but I quickly whipped off my tank and crossed my arms over my chest to cover my breasts. Right on the bottom of Frankie's spine, between the two dimples above her buttocks, was a Tinkerbell. Shoddily drawn and lucidly colored. A trashy tattoo for a very untrashy woman.
Hart's eyes fixed on the splodge of ink, a cascade of emotions played over his face. Shame. Lust. Anger. Denial. Acceptance.
He stepped forward, the heat of his body rested against my bareback. I shivered. His calloused hands wrapped around my biceps. He was so tall that he could have rested his head on my crown with no effort. His large frame cocooned my own, and Frankie was by no means diminutive.
“I’ve seen that tattoo before.” He said softly. Hart's voice was muffled by my hair.
“Yes.” My answer gave him no leeway. I tried to hold onto anger, but I couldn’t. Some deep part of me was happy that he saw through my guise. That he could differentiate between my host and me.
On the other hand, what if Hart was the one that had summoned the Ifrit to kill Team C?
I couldn’t imagine it. I had watched the bulky bear of a Hunter, with his long mountain-man hair tied back in a bun, I had seen the way he loved every dog in the canine unit. Especially Dixie, the blonde Labrador that kept demanding extra food and trying to push her soggy plushie against his leg when he hadn’t paid her enough attention.
He kissed like a coiled maelstrom. Like a gentleman that would turn into a deviant if you managed to break through his hard shell. I wanted that so badly.
I wanted to tell him. To spread the truth free like open wings and scream about my true nature from the rooftops.
If I did that, he'd kill me.
For the first time in my life, I felt something like a squirming worm inside the core of my being. Guilt. Uncertainty. I hated that I had grown close to Hart, Hugo, Remi, even Davenport, and Dr. Lee, and none of them would ever know the true me. They would never know my true nature.
Part of me wanted to let my mask slip, just a little, to see what they would do.
But not yet.
Hart's body was warm. I tilted my chin back until my head rested between his pecs. I buried myself in his embrace and closed my eyes.
I hadn’t felt safe in so long.
I didn’t think I had ever been held like that before.
Sharp pain sliced through my forehead and down my brain until it rested at the base on my skull. Images flashed past my closed eyelids. Frankie's memories, through her own eyes.
Callum Hart covered in blood, staunching the bleeding from Frankie's middle. Daniel, her brother, rocking back and forth in the corner. The headless body of a Blood Sidhe ripped clean in two, laid prone next to my hand.
Callum was pale white, panicking.
“For fuck sake, Hart.” Frankie's bitter voice was cold. “Don’t touch me.”
“I’m so sorry, Gardiner.” He whispered, placing gauze on the healing wound.
“Get off me, you dolt!” Frankie waved him away.
“I didn’t mean to—”
Frankie pushed him away and stood on shaky feet. She marched over to her adopted brother and gripped his arm, pulling him up to her side. She called Daniel's name a few times, he continued to shake, and his gaze was fixed on the dismembered Fae corpse.
Frankie slapped him. Her hand a whip. Daniel's head jarred to the side.
“We don't have time for this.” Frankie eyed her brother, meaningfully. She limped away from the scene.
Callum Hart lowered his head. His fingers glistened with blood, both Frankie’s and Blood Sidhe. His eyes glowed as he looked down at the floor.
I slammed back into my body quickly. It felt uncomfortable, like a poorly tailored suit. Frankie had shown me something. I did not know why or what it meant.
Callum had taken her brusque manner as a rejection. A scolding.
But Frankie's wounds had healed incredibly fast. Too fast for a human. Was that the reason she had pushed Hart away?
I stepped out of Hart's embrace and ducked down to snag my top again, pulling it over my head with a swift movement. I looked down at my pebbled nipples and thought about possibly wearing a bra.
I shrugged when I decided against it. It made me too happy to make people uncomfortable. The outline of a nipple through a cotton t-shirt was a good way to fuck with people with minimal effort, even if it impossible to run anywhere without getting slapped in the face.
“I'm hungry,” I said brightly, to change the subject.
Hart cleared his throat and scooped up the guns. Dumping them in the same box as the bullets. I caught a glimpse of his hardness, pressing against his distorted zipper.
I squirmed with happiness.
I wasn't allowed to indulge in any sexcapades with the Hunter’s. Giving Hart blue-balls was as far as I could go.
The soldier at the desk had abandoned his post, reminding me that the Hunter's compound was pseudo-military at best.
Hart reached into his pocket and produced a keycard. He led me through the gate to the side, and we walked into the armory.
Every type of weapon imaginable greeted us. Walls of swords, from samurai and rapier. Tasers and some sort of whip. It reminded me of the weapon's masters of the City of Dis, touting their wares.
I whistled in appreciation as Hart led us down the correct aisle to deposit the guns and the bullets. Halfway down, my neck prickled, and I stopped walking.
Hart turned; his brow was quirked. “What is it?” He asked.
I pointed to a box on the side. Something about it made my skin crawl. “What’s that?”
Hart gave me a funny look. “They’re the new bullets. The ones that dissolve on contact. Devil's Silver. For Demons.”
My eyes widened. Devil's Silver was enchanted metal that could scar a Demon. If the bullets melted, then it could very well kill one too.
I swallowed the lump in my throat.
“How did you get a hold of Devil's Silver?” My voice was tight with fear.
“We don’t have a lot.” Hart frowned at the box. “Still in testing.”
I nodded and gave him a relaxed smile. Inside, I wanted to burst from my skin and flee.
I tried to see Hugo Sinclair that afternoon. Affecting an air of nonchalance as I walked past the officer's quarters, my face was hidden by the hood over my head as I sat on the wet grass outside the dull grey building, weaving the thin green blades into a braid. I could feel the Cambion, like a second heartbeat in my chest. The closer I got to the building, the stronger that heartbeat was.
Muddy combat boots stepped into my vision. I glanced up at Davenport. His arms were crossed over his chest, his inky eyes studied me from behind his thick brow.
“What are you doing?” He asked. His entire presence made the question a command that I wanted to answer like an eager dog.
I held up my small grassy braid. “It’s a tiny noose,” I informed Warren with enough glee to rival a small child.
Davenport pinched the bridge of his nose. “Sinclair is resting. He has asked me to deter any visitors.”
I tried not to let my disappointment show on my face. “I’m just making daisy chains, Daddy Davenport.”
Davenport grunted; he eyed the ground with distaste and to my surprise, eased himself onto the soggy grass.
“It has come to my attention that you are spending a lot of time with Weber, Sinclair, and Hart.” Davenport's gaze zeroed in on mine and pinned me to the spot. “I feel I have to remind you to act with the conduct of a Hunter while you are in the compound and to not do anything that Corporal Gardiner would not do.
“Relax.” I breathed a laugh. “I’m not about to proposition anyone for sex.”
I had standards—standards that didn’t include people whose job it was to kill my kind. No matter how at home I felt with them. Or how attractive I found them.
“I’m gone in a few weeks anyway.” I reminded him.
“You’ve gotten close to some of my Hunters,” Davenport said gravely. “I don’t want to see them led astray.”
My eyes widened. “By one of the tricky, slippery, Fair Folk?” I said, playing along with my mask as a Mimic Sidhe.
“Exactly.” Davenport's eyes narrowed.
“You're not just saying that because you’re tempted, commander?” I asked with a hint of a condescending smirk.
“You’d know if I was tempted, Girl.” Davenport’s voice rumbled. The sound traveled straight to my female parts. Delicious.
“Jealous?” I suggested with a purr.
His eyes hooded, but he stood up abruptly and straightened his spine. “Maybe another time.” He suggested. I protested when he turned to leave but Davenport smiled softly. “Show me your real face, and I’ll show you mine.”
I wondered what he meant by that.