Sweet Peril (15 page)

“I think I know of him,” Kope said. “Was he the boy forced to entertain the Dukes with a fight?”

“Yep, that’s our guy. Here’s his story. The only time Flynn’s sin raises its head is when he does something competitive. His greed takes over, sort of like it’s
his
win and he has to have it. His father is a big boxing fan and wanted Flynn to try his hand at fighting when he was just fourteen. He learned quick, and Mammon bragged about him to all the Dukes. When Flynn was nineteen, Shax, Duke of Theft, bet Mammon that Flynn couldn’t beat his son, Erik. Erik was a twenty-one-year-old boxer in Atlantic City at the time.” He paused, sitting back and crossing his arms. I got a sick feeling in the pit of my stomach.

“It’d been a long time since anything brutal happened to a Neph at the hands of the Dukes. Stuff like that used to happen all the time before the number of kids went down so drastically.
Anyway. The annual summit was held in Australia that year, and they brought both boys to fight. Erik held his own for a long time, but once Flynn finally got the upper hand, he couldn’t stop himself.”

“He killed him,” I whispered. Dad raised his chin in confirmation.

“Last week was the anniversary of Erik’s death. I had a tail on Flynn, and he drove out to the rock quarry where they made him dump the body all those years ago.”

He pulled a second picture from the envelope.

Flynn sat near the edge of the quarry, seeming unconcerned by its steep, devastating drop of several hundred feet to the water below. His legs splayed open in front of him, and he cradled his face in his hands. The display of grief and remorse made me pull back from the picture, ill.

“He’s a little rough around the edges, Anna, but don’t be too scared of him. He should come around easier than the daughter of Sonellion.”

I sure hoped so.

“How is Z?” I asked. “Have any of your whisperers checked on her?”

“She’s hanging in there.”

Kope and I looked at each other. I wished all this planning didn’t have to take so long. Dad handed us tickets to Flynn’s fight, two backstage passes, our hotel information, and Flynn’s home address before kissing my forehead good-bye.

The last leg of the flight was uneventful except for one tiny skirmish. Kope and I were delirious with sleepiness. I tried to
get him to take a drink of my latte, wanting to see him bounce off the cabin walls from a dose of caffeine. He batted away my lame attempts to bring my cup to his mouth, laughing. Then he very uncharacteristically poked my waist and I squeaked. The older gentleman in the row next to us stared with disapproval, and I backed away.

“Let us compromise,” Kope said. “You take a drink of my green tea and I will have a drink of your . . . sugared mud.”

“Deal!”

We switched drinks and I almost gagged at the bitter natural flavor. His nose crinkled in return.

“There’s no sugar in this!” I declared, just as he said, “That is
too
sweet!”

After a bit more laughing I settled down and tried to focus on my homework. It took a while, but I finished it then slept until we began descending. I was glad to see the city of Melbourne through the window when I awoke: a cluster of high-rises along the iridescent ocean. The water sparkled and winked up at us as we came in for landing.

The Australian summer was a welcome change from the chilliness I’d left behind in Georgia. At our snazzy hotel, the people were friendly, refusing tips. I smiled like an idiot at their awesome accents, although I guess technically I was the one with the accent.

When I checked in at the front desk, I was handed a small sealed box.

“This was delivered for you, miss.”

I thanked the concierge and tucked it into my pocket.

Kope and I rode the mirrored elevator to the fifth floor. We gave our spare room keys to each other in case of an emergency.

After agreeing on a time to meet, we went our separate ways. The first thing I noticed inside my room were the chocolates on the pillows of the enormous king-size bed.

“Yes!”
I threw myself on top of the oversized downiness and ate the chocolates, one right after the other. Then I sat up, cross-legged, and opened the box that’d been left for me. Inside was a small black dagger and sheath. I grinned.
Thanks, Dad
.

I was tired, but full of adrenaline, so I decided to explore the room. I opened the giant wooden bureau and found a television. The next cabinet hid a minifridge. I squatted and opened it, expecting to find it empty. But it wasn’t.

It was full of alcohol.

My heart banged and my hands got clammy.

No harm in looking . . .

I sat down, removing a minibottle of tequila and cradling it in my palm. It’s funny how the body reacts similarly to different types of longings, be it a craving for substances or a case of lust: blood and breath quickening, skin heating, palms dampening. With slow deliberation, I placed the golden liquor back in its spot, loving the sound of the bottles clinking together.

A soft knock sounded from the other side of the wall, and I jumped, slamming the fridge closed. I moved my hearing outward through the wall and whispered, “Kope?”

“Anna? Are you behaving?” His voice had a teasing tone. He’d heard the bottles.
Aagh!
Geez, did other Neph ever
take a break from listening?

“Um,” I stammered. “Just looking, Mr. Parole Officer.”

He chuckled.

I wouldn’t have drank anything, but I’d certainly been entertaining the daydream. “I’m gonna take a shower now.”

When I saw the giant sunken tub with fancy bottles of soaps, I decided on a bubble bath instead. While I lay in the foamy hot water, I found myself humming the chorus to Lascivious’s new song. That would not do. So I changed it to the next thing that came to mind: a poppy little tune that Jay always blasted for us girls in his car. Then a horrifying thought stopped me. Was Kope listening to me splash around in the bathtub, singing? He wouldn’t do that, would he? The very idea made me all tingly and paranoid. I slunk down a little farther into the bubbles and shut my mouth.

Once I was good and wrinkly I wrapped myself in the hotel’s plush robe. Dad had suggested we dress nicely for the arena. It was a Christmas Eve fight. I’d brought a flowing black, knee-length skirt made of stretchy material and a fitted maroon blouse. Bad outfit choice. Where was I supposed to put the hilt? The dagger was already strapped to my inner thigh. I couldn’t wear the hilt on my ankle, and it bulged under the fabric of the skirt when I tried to put it at my waist. Kope would have to hold it for me. I sent my hearing into his room.

“Hey, Kope?” No answer. My hearing nudged around his room until it found muffled music, like a radio that had been overturned. I homed my hearing on the music and could barely make out that it was classical, instrumental. My heart sped up as I called his name again. Still no answer. I couldn’t imagine
that he’d fallen asleep. He would have told me if he was going somewhere. I listened in his bathroom and also down the hall to the ice machine. Nothing. Picking up both our room keys, I hurried the short distance down the hall and knocked lightly on his door. Still nothing.

I gripped the hilt in its leather case in one hand, and with the other hand I swiped the room key and quietly pushed the door open. Taking a timid step inside the dim room, I propped the door open with my foot. What I saw on the floor in front of the bed made me flush with prickly heat.

Kope was fine. He was meditating. He wore earbuds blaring classical music. I should have left right then, but I was struck still by the sight of him in such a private moment. He was down on his knees, sitting back on his heels, head bowed in reverence. He wore navy running pants but no socks and no shirt. The triceps in his arms bulged and his rounded back was a brown mass of muscle.

The thing that made it hard for me to breathe was the way he completely submitted himself as a humble offering on the floor like that. To see a big, strong man down on his knees, devoid of selfish pride, meditating with his whole being was enough to make a woman weep with admiration.

I’d been staring far too long. When I took a step backward his head whipped up and our eyes collided. He tore the earbuds out with a startled expression in his light eyes.

I was so busted.

“S-sorry,” I said. I ducked away and shut the door, drawing jagged breaths. Behind me I heard Kope open his door and rush out. When I turned, my eyes must have bugged at
the sight of his body because he took one glance down at his bare chest and bolted into the room to put on a shirt. I waited, heart pounding with foolish embarrassment, until he returned to the hall.

“Is anything the matter?” he asked.

“No. I’m so sorry. I just, I thought something might’ve happened when you didn’t answer me.”

He relaxed. “I should have warned you. It’s the only time I block my hearing. I did not mean to frighten you.”

“It’s okay,” I whispered. “Do you, um, think you could come in for just a minute when you have time? I want to ask you something.” I held up the hilt to show him what it was about.

“I will join you now.” He followed me into my room.

We sat in two armchairs facing each other across a small desk. I took a deep breath and willed my heart rate to slow as visions of half-naked Kopano danced in my head. I didn’t like him like that, but it was hard not to be affected by such a sight.
Okay, he’s waiting for you to say something, Anna. Get it together
. I cleared my throat.

“Do you mind holding the hilt for me today? I won’t be able to in this outfit.”

He answered without hesitation. “I would be honored to carry it.”

“Thanks. And there’s something else I was wondering . . . it’s kind of strange. Would you mind taking out the hilt and holding it?”

I handed him the hilt in its case. He glanced at me with curiosity but trusted me without question, opening the pouch
and taking out the hilt. He held it in his gentle hands, lifting to inspect it with awe.

“Do you feel anything?” I asked.

His expression was quizzical when he asked, “In what way?”

“Physically. Does it kind of zap your skin?”

His brow furrowed. “No.”

“Oh.” I sagged a little. “I thought you might be able to wield it, too.”

“Anna . . .” He eased the hilt back into its carrier. “I had many years of indulgence before my life was changed.”

It was hard to imagine Kope as anything less than completely controlled.

“I guess I knew that,” I said, “but I thought since you’d been, you know, redeemed and all . . .”

He gave me a small smile and stood, sliding the hilt into his pocket. “Perhaps the Sword of Righteousness is not as forgiving as its Creator.”

I followed him to the door, until he turned abruptly and I halted just before crashing into him.

“Anna . . .” His eyes looked a little wild. I took a small step back.

“Yeah?” I asked.

He never took his eyes from me. “Do you still speak with Kaidan?”

I dropped my eyes and shook my head, frazzled by the question. “He won’t talk to me.”

“But you still love him.”

I swallowed hard and nodded, meeting his solemn eyes again.

He was quiet for a long pause before he said, “I am going to take a walk, but I have my phone. I will see you at twelve thirty.”

He closed the door behind him, and I leaned my forehead against it for a while, wondering why things had to be so complicated.

A check of the clock showed I still had half an hour. I walked to the window and opened the curtains. Melbourne was beautiful. It was strange to see Christmas decorations lining the streets on a sunny summer day. After a few minutes my eyes landed on a familiar face among the people walking.

Kope. Sweet Kope. I wanted him to be happy.

He pulled out his cell phone, and unease curled inside me. I wondered who he was calling. He glanced up toward my window and I quickly backed away to stay hidden. Then, in a moment of nosiness and paranoia, I pushed my hearing and sight through the glass, down to where Kope had stopped in a small pavilion.

I could make out the crackle and ring through the receiver and Kopano’s features—the worried pinch of his full lips. And then a male voice with an English accent answered, and I froze.

Why was he calling Kaidan?

“Brother Kaidan,” Kope greeted.

“Kope.” He sounded slightly edgy, worried. “Is everyone all right?”

“Yes. Everyone is fine.”

“Then to what do I owe this pleasure?” Kai’s tone changed to something firmer, rougher, lined with sarcasm.

Kopano was quiet and his eyebrows went together as if
he was regretting his decision to call. I had no idea what was going on, but I didn’t like it.

“Anna says you will not speak with her.”

I stopped breathing.

“What is your point?” Kai asked.

“My point . . .” Kope paced a few steps and then stopped, putting his palm to his forehead. “She still cares for you. I wish to know how you feel for her.”

“That’s none of your concern.”

I took a jaggedy breath in. This could not be happening.

“I am concerned because she hurts. If you care, you should let her know. And if you do not care you should release her.”

“So you can have a go at her?”

“I will not pursue her if you do not wish me to. But you must tell me.”

“It’s not my permission you need, Kope. Talk to her father.”

“Please, Kaidan. I do not wish to quarrel.”

“Of course you don’t. Tell me: Does she know about you yet?”

Know
what
about him?

Kope went very still. “No,” he whispered in a low rumble.

“Be careful,” Kaidan warned, no hint of humor.

“I am ever aware, brother. And now I need your honesty. What are your feelings for her?”

My body was motionless but for the bulging heartbeat in my throat. Tell him I’m not available. Tell him you still care—that I’m yours.

Kaidan’s angry chuckle, a breathy, cold sound, gave me goose bumps. And then he finally answered. “I’ve made it clear
to her there’s no future for us, mate. So have at it. Best of luck to you.”