“Danny was always supportive. He put himself at risk just to be sure I—”
“I know. But after everything happened, he was under a lot of pressure. He was investigated, and then he had your sister to cope with and your mother’s funeral.” Alex sighed. The sister alone would turn anyone sour. He rubbed his mouth. “I’ve been working up in Council Central,” he said, referring to the upper floors where Council business was conducted in a warren of offices by cutthroat aides. “Danny was a rising star. His rise is on hold, and he’s pissed. He’s blaming you. I don’t know how much of that is trying to salvage his career or his life, but I can’t risk you seeing him. A betrayal now would be catastrophic on a number of levels.”
“He would never turn me in.” At Alex’s questioning look, she insisted, “He wouldn’t betray me!”
“I’m not so sure.”
Lena looked at the floor. She picked at one fingernail, shoving her thumbnail into the edge of it over and over until the tip tore away. She made a soft sound and brought the finger to her mouth, sucking the blood away. Her lowered lids and lashes hid her wounded eyes.
It was clear that she wanted to pretend the tears in them were from the nail she’d torn past the quick, but Alex wasn’t fooled. He took a minute to berate himself for feeling sick he’d been the one to hurt her. He couldn’t afford to care. But he did.
He slid his hand along the counter and stepped closer, taking her hand away from her mouth. He looked down at her finger. Blood welled up from the torn nail. He curled his hand around the finger and took a deep breath, focusing his intent.
Nothing happened. The Dust didn’t even swirl in acknowledgment. Alex huffed a nervous laugh and tried again.
“Dust. This should be easy, but I suck at healing. I’m sorry.”
At least he’d made her smile.
“It’s okay. I’ve got it.” The bleeding slowed, and her torn skin grew back together. “See? All better.”
“Not quite.” He drew her hand up to his own mouth and settled his lips on her fingertip, pressing a kiss onto the new skin. He held the kiss for a long moment. Her pupils dilated, and her lips parted, drawing him down deeper.
Let her hand go. Back away. Right now.
Behind him, Jackson exited the bathroom and entered the living space. Alex lifted his head, glancing back at Jackson standing awkwardly behind them, keeping his focus everywhere but on them. Alex returned her hand to her, but waited a long beat before he stepped back.
She sighed, glanced at Jackson, and then refocused on Alex. “So,” she said, her voice almost normal, “do you guys have time to practice dropping that shield you have before you leave? I want to know if I’m right about the Dust. Again.”
Chapter 27
“She wants to see Danny.” Alex scrubbed his hands over his face as he brought up the last issue he had to discuss with Thomas tonight before he could head back to Azcon on the train. Just thinking of her face, her vulnerability when she’d asked for her brother, made something inside him tighten. It had been eating at him since the night before.
That wasn’t true. The deception had been eating at him for months.
“She can’t. It’s too dangerous at this point. It’s not possible.”
“I know. That’s what I told her. But with everything she’s been through…He’s essentially the last of her family. I think she needs it.”
“And if he slips? If he tells her what’s really going on? You know how volatile she is. At best, she’d walk away. At worst? She guilts Danny into going with her, and everything we’ve built that hinges on him falls apart. She goes to Ace and shares with him then he somehow shows our hand to the wrong people—”
“I told you months ago we should groom him, bring him on board—”
“I won’t trust anyone associated with Dragonfly House. Ever.” Thomas reached up to run his index finger over the smooth, scarred skin under his eye where the slaver’s brand had burned Thomas’s face as a child.
It was an unconscious movement. Thomas had been doing it since they were boys, and always at the mention of anything to do with his childhood captivity. Alex should have called him on his dislike of Ace at the beginning. A current-day entry-level trade house dealer had nothing to do with the decisions and backroom deals of the trade house thirty-odd years ago. Ace shouldn’t pay for what had been done to Thomas before Lena’s friend was even born. And Lena shouldn’t pay by extension.
But the emotional investment in decades of hatred made Thomas intractable. Perhaps if Alex appealed to his friend’s emotions, he could win a small victory for Lena—a private meet-up with her brother?