Rogue's Passion (13 page)

Time to put an end to this. Glancing at the nameplate on her desk, he removed his handheld device and opened a note-taking app.
Brenda, receptionist at RMI
. When he had some free time, he’d be sure to pay her a little visit after she left work.

He leaned closer and pulled off his sunglasses, giving her a good long look at his ruined face and milky, unseeing eye. After glancing at him once, she squirmed in her desk chair and blinked uncomfortably, refusing to meet his stare.
 

“I don’t care how busy anyone is,” he seethed through his teeth. “This is an urgent matter. Did you even read those papers?”

She grabbed the document—probably as an excuse not to look at him—then swallowed nervously as she read it. He put his sunglasses back on. Without saying another word, she punched a few buttons on her phone.
 

The left side of the counter was desk height, so he moved over and rested a butt cheek on the edge while he waited. Two men with RMI badges were crossing the lobby. Although they glanced in his direction, they didn’t stop, just kept walking and talking. God, they looked young enough to still be in high school. Privileged prep school brats who probably had everything handed to them. Daddy paid for college and helped them get internships and now they’re working at an Internet company owned by Daddy’s frat brother.
 

That could’ve been his life, he thought with disgust. Everything handed to him, the world as his oyster—that kind of bullshit. He had been brilliant once, and creative, and he’d had the support of Mommy and Daddy, too. But the accident changed all that. No longer was he the perfect, pretty son that could be proudly paraded in front of their country club friends. They even shipped him off to a remote boarding school, saying he needed to “be with others just like you” to learn “life skills.” He’d developed skills, all right. Caught the attention of some very powerful people. Now, he quietly fixed problems the government couldn’t afford to fix on its own.
 

The receptionist cleared her throat as she stood, making a point of looking at his ass planted on her desk. “Ms. Hart will see you now. Right this way.”
 

Chapter Ten

After a quick check to see that no one was within earshot, Asher began, “I’m a member of an elite group of warriors who, for generations, have been tasked to protect our people from those who would harm them. We’ve been coming here for centuries for that very reason.”

“Harm? But who would—” Olivia’s confused expression quickly changed to a knowing one. “Our army, right?”

He nodded.

She let out a long breath. “I can’t say that I’m surprised. I’ve never quite believed the propaganda they spew about the quote unquote evil barbarians who come through the portals to rape women and blow up cities.”

“They are good at spreading false truths.”

“Since the army controls many of the information outlets,” she said, “they can say whatever they want.”

“And many of your people believe them. Righteousness, even when misguided, is a powerful motivator.”

“But you can’t deny that the explosion was very real. It wasn’t a made-up story or a minor incident fluffed up to look worse.”

He set down his cup. “One thing I want to make clear to you, Liv, is that an Iron Guild warrior would
never
do the things they claim that we do. Yes, we kill soldiers and destroy army property, but it’s only to keep them from finding the portals. We never kill innocent people.”
 

“Then who was it?”
 

He stared out the window as he recalled seeing the dark figure with the backpack right before the explosion. He shook his head. “I don’t know,” he said, although he had his theories.

“Well, I’ll tell you who I think it is,” she said, putting down her cup. “The army. They make it appear as if it’s the work of our enemy in order to further their own ends. It’s the ultimate justification to start or continue a war.”
 

“What kind of government would do that to its own people?”

She gave a harsh laugh. “The kind that kills a father in front of his family and kidnaps the son.”

He let out a low curse.
 

When he met up with Rickert, Toryn, and the other warriors at the next rendezvous, he’d tell them what he’d witnessed at the club and relay Olivia’s story about her father and brother. Maybe it was time for another raid on one of their military bases just for the hell of it.
 

“Why are you here now?” she asked. “Are you alone?”

He told her about the army finding the Crestenfahl portal and the death of his friend Fallon.
 

“Shit, Asher. That’s horrible. I’m so sorry.”

“I’m seeking out the one responsible.”

“What I wouldn’t do to seek out my own revenge.” She set down her cup. “You said our army harms your people. What…do they do exactly?”

The group near the fireplace stood, gathered their things, and headed toward the door. Asher waited until they passed. “Those in power here have always been jealous of what we have in Cascadia. Not our technology or our way of life, of course. Things over there are somewhat medieval. No electricity or running water. We use horses for transportation and live simply in villages and castles. What they’re looking for over there are those with
fata-blood.
”

She frowned. “
Fata-blood?
”

He rapped his knuckles on his chest. “The magical blood of the Fates. Those who have it flowing in their veins have special abilities that others don’t have.”

“You mean Talents?”

He nodded.

“I’ve never heard it described that way. Are people like me common where you’re from?”

“I would never describe you as common, Liv. But yes, there are more people over there who are Talents.”
 

Children in Cascadia were told these stories about their birthright from the time they were born, so he was surprised Olivia didn’t know this. The fact that he had no special abilities didn’t matter. These oral histories were passed down to all Cascadians, whether they developed Talents or not. It was part of their heritage.

“Descendants of the Fates sometimes develop special abilities. The Pacifican Army wants to use those with Talents in order to gain power. Not only over my world, but to grow their influence in yours. Imagine what an army of Talents could do.”
 

She nodded in agreement.

He told her about the Obsidian Wars and the story of the three brothers. “Two were born with powers and one without, and together they controlled the three kingdoms. But eventually, there was a power struggle that stemmed from jealousy and greed. The one brother wanted what the other two had and war broke out between them. It lasted for many years and many people died, until finally the Fates stepped in and created the separate worlds, joined only by a few secret portals.”

She rubbed her forehead. “That story sounds vaguely familiar, but I’m not sure why. It makes sense, though. The army coerces those of us who develop Talents over here to work for them.”
 

“Yes.”

“Like my brother.”

“And you, too,” he said. “You’re wise to lie low and not draw unwanted attention to yourself. You don’t want to be drawn into this war.”

“There’s one thing I don’t understand. How did Vince and I grow up to have Talents? We’re Pacificans, not Cascadians.”
 

He gazed out the window, unsure of how much he should divulge. Some family secrets were best kept hidden. Especially tragic ones. And who was he to expose them? A stranger from another world. Although he had to admit, they weren’t exactly strangers, given how they’d spent the past twelve hours.
 

She must’ve sensed his reluctance, because her hand came down over his. “Tell me, Asher, I deserve to know why.”

“Yes, you do.” For thousands of years, people had been doing terrible things to each other, but it was often the children who suffered most. “It’s the army, Liv. They’ve been coming to our side for centuries. They come because…they steal our children.”
 

She gripped the edge of the table, her knuckles going albino white, horror and disbelief reflected in her eyes. “That’s impossible. I—we were born here. We’ve got baby pictures taken in the hospital. I’ve got our mother’s mismatched eyes. Vince has—had my father’s nose.”

He thought about that for a moment. “But what about your parents? Or their parents? Is it possible that one of them was born in Cascadia and stolen as a child? You could’ve inherited the
fata-blood
that way.”

Olivia’s hand flew to her mouth as the realization hit her. “Oh my God. My mother. She was adopted by my grandparents when she was two years old. She’d been told her birth mother didn’t want her anymore and had given her up for adoption. Her parents had been unable to have children of their own, but because they were older, they were not able to get an infant. My mom was already walking and talking when they got her.”

He exhaled slowly. “Of course, it’s possible that story is true, and your abilities came from an earlier relative, but if I were a betting man, I’d say they told your mother a lie.”

Olivia’s face fell. “A lie?”

It felt like he’d just thrown a brick through a window. He was shattering the beliefs she had about her heritage and family. You can’t undo a revelation like that.
 

“But my mother doesn’t have any special abilities. It’s just me and Vince.”

“Look at me,” he said, holding out his hands. “I don’t have any special abilities either, but it’s possible I could pass them along to my children someday. It’s very common for Talents to skip generations.” Neither of his parents had been Talents either, but his grandmother, with whom he’d lived for a short time after he’d left home, had been very gifted.
 

Olivia wiped a tear away with the heel of her hand. This was clearly very difficult for her to accept. How could it not be? Not only was it a lot to take in, he was probably botching the whole thing up. He was sure there were better, more sensitive ways to tell her what he just had.
Let me buy you a fancy coffee and tell you how your whole life is based on a lie.
He excelled more at action, not words.

“Hey,” he said quietly. When she didn’t look up, he moved his chair closer. Without saying another word, he pulled her onto him, so that she was straddling his lap. He needed to offer what comfort he could and this was the best way he knew how.
 

“Ash,” she whispered, glancing around. “We’re in public and this isn’t really…appropriate.” But her eyes lit up and a smile ghosted on her lips. That was enough to show him he was on the right track.

“It is where I come from.” She started to protest, but he held a finger to her lips. “I need you close to show you how much I care,” he said. “I’m not good with words. Sorry I’m the one to tell you about your family.”
 

Her eyes glistened brightly before she lowered her head until they were touching forehead to forehead. She cupped his face in her hands, and he breathed in her air. “I’m glad you told me. I wouldn’t have wanted to hear it from anyone else.” Then those luscious lips of hers came down over his mouth and her tongue found its way inside. She tasted like that coffee drink she’d ordered. Sweet and unpredictably complex.
 

He moved one hand to the back of her head and the other grabbed her ass to scoot her closer. Despite the fact that he’d gotten the best blow job of his life less than twelve hours ago, followed by two—no, three—more incredible orgasms, he was rock hard now and would be ready to do it all over again in a heartbeat.
 

The gray-haired woman seated on the other side of the door clucked her disapproval like a broody old hen. Two teenage girls coming in stopped and stared for a moment before giggling and heading to the front to order their drinks.
 

Olivia stiffened in his arms. “I don’t think we should be—”

“Do I need to remind you of Rules One and Two?”
 

“That applies in public?”

“Yes.”

That was all he needed to say and she was wrapping her arms around his neck again.
 

Whatever had possessed him to come up with this slave idea was beyond him. He’d always been dominant in and out of the bedroom, but he’d never done anything quite like this. But whatever it was, it was brilliant, because the rest of the week was going to be incredible.
 

* * *

Springing Conry from doggie jail was a simple process. After paying a fine for having an unlicensed, unneutered huge male dog running wild on the streets of New Seattle, the three of them climbed into the Mustang and were soon speeding down the road back to Reckless.
 

“Did you miss me, buddy?” Asher asked, reaching back to scratch him for the millionth time.

“Of course he did,” Olivia said. “If I were him, I’d never let you out of my sight. I wouldn’t be surprised if he shadows you everywhere for a while.”

Conry was panting with his eyes closed. Poor guy. He would probably sleep the rest of the day and night.