But it had been so long.
I ran a finger up my center, and my back arched in response. My toes curled. Without warning, an image of Ren appeared in vivid detail, bright green eyes and a full, sinful mouth. I didn't want to think of him and I attempted to wash his image from my thoughts, but it lingered in the background, and my hips were moving against my hand. The fire inside me was flaming and I was burning hotter and hotter. I tried to keep his image at bay, desperate to not think of him as the ache built and the pressure coiled inside me. My hips rocked, and I pushed my head back against the pillow, losing control of my thoughts. In my fantasy, my hand wasn't my own. My thighs weren't tightening around my hand—but his. They weren't my fingers. The tension broke; like a cord pulled too tight, it snapped, the release whipping out through me. I barely swallowed the cry as my body and thoughts shattered into blissful little pieces.
I collapsed back on the bed, my thighs relaxing and my heart rate slowing from its frantic pace. I was staring at the ceiling again, but this time I was wondering why I hadn't done this in three years.
If I woke up every morning like this I'd probably be a better person.
Breaths shallow, I closed my eyes and let the peace drift through my muscles as I told myself I hadn't been thinking of Ren on purpose while I did that. It was purely accidental it was him that appeared in my thoughts. After all, it made sense since he was the last dude I'd seen, not counting Tink. Seeing him in my mind while I . . . while I did that didn't mean anything.
Not a damn thing.
~
I texted Val in the morning, knowing we needed to talk, and I met her at Lafayette Cemetery at noon. The location was her choice. She claimed the peace of the tombs helped her think. She was weird like that, but I loved her enough to make the twenty-minute walk to the oldest of the cities of the dead that existed in New Orleans.
Most people knew not to venture into the cemeteries once night came, but it was usually fine to roam about during the day, especially since they were typically staffed at that time and there were tours in and out.
Plus, she wanted to go to the bookstore around the corner, and I was so down for that. I needed to get another Marked Men novel.
Val was waiting outside, near the archway that led into the cemetery. Today she was wearing a black skirt and a teal green off the shoulder peasant shirt with more ruffles than a wedding gown. Only she could look that good.
She pushed off the wall, coming forward and wrapping her arms around me. "Chéri, you're here!"
Pulling back, I laughed at the French term she only broke out once in a while. "You're calling me darling. What do you want?"
"Nothing." She threaded her arm through mine. "I'm just glad we're finally getting to chat about what the hell is going on." Then in uncharacteristic seriousness she added, "You have me worried, Ivy. Some of the members are talking and . . ."
"And they're not saying great things?" I surmised as we stepped under the iron archway.
She patted my arm. "Well, depends on how you look at it."
I gave her a wry grin. "They're saying I'm crazy, thanks to Trent."
We passed tombs on either side of the pathway. The walkways formed a cross. I wasn't sure if that was on purpose, but I assumed it was. "Trent said you told Harris the night you were shot that it was . . . an ancient that did it," she explained softly as she guided me to the left, and I knew where she was leading us. "And he said you confirmed it Thursday night."
Thursday night seemed forever ago. Straightening my sunglasses with my other hand, I gave myself a moment to change my mind. I hadn't planned on telling Val anything until I talked to Merle, but I needed to talk to someone.
We passed under a large tree with gold and red leaves. The smell of autumn was heavy here. "I did see an ancient, Val."
She didn't respond immediately. "How can you be sure?"
I told her what happened with the ancient. "As you can see, that's not something that would happen with a normal fae." I paused as we passed a group crowding a tomb. "I stabbed him. He pulled the stake out like it was nothing. And I told David, but I . . . I don't think he really believes me. I know he doesn't. He thinks I missed or something."
"God," she said, slipping her arm free from mine.
My stomach dropped and I stopped walking. "I'm not making this up."
Her tight curls bounced as she shook her head. "I know you're not, but . . ."
"But it's hard to believe?" I asked as I stared at her straight back. "I know it is, but he was an ancient, Val. And he's not the only one I've seen. I saw another Friday night in the warehouse district. His name is Marlon St. Cyers, or that's what he's calling himself. He's a freaking huge developer. I'm sure you've heard his name. Fae don't make themselves public like that, but this one—there's no way he cares about someone snapping a picture of him and it resurfacing twenty years from now, proving that he's not doing the whole aging thing."
A moment passed and Val faced me. She was so vibrant amongst all the decaying, gray tombs, but her skin was paler than normal as she stared back at me. "You really did see them."
I nodded, drawing in another shallow breath. "I did."
She walked back to where I stood. "Why do you think they're here?"
"I don't know if they ever left the city or what, but I think . . . I think it has to do with the gates." I glanced as two people strolled passed us and stopped a few tombs down, snapping pictures. I kept my voice low. "I think they might be planning something with the gates."
Her eyes widened, and when she spoke her voice was tense. "Ivy."
"I don't know what, but I'm not . . ." Words left me. Could I tell her about Ren—about the Elite? It wasn't that I didn't trust her, but it seemed wrong to betray his trust.
Val toyed with the bangles along her wrist. "What?"
I'd known Val longer than I'd known Ren, and I trusted her. "What I'm about to tell you cannot go any further, okay?"
"Honey, I'm a vault of secrets." She waved her hands around her midsection. "I could blister your ears with the things I know about some of the members, but I keep them to myself."
I kind of wondered what she knew. Walking past her, I made my way to where we always ended up when we came to the cemetery. The tomb of the first Order member to be killed by a fae in New Orleans was marked by a praying angel that somehow was still a pearly white and almost luminous. The symbol of the Order, the three interlocking spirals, was carved into the center of the tomb. Reaching out, I ran my fingers over it.
"Ren knows about the ancients," I said as Val stopped beside me. I looked at her and forged on. "He's a part of the Elite."
She blinked once and then twice. "What in the fuckity fuck is the Elite?"
A brief smile crossed my lips. I told her what Ren had explained about the Elite and why he was here. She had a suitable expression of puzzlement on her face, and I was sure that was how I looked when Ren told me everything.
Val needed a few moments to soak all that in. She passed in front of the tomb of the fallen member. I stared at the once pristine tombs that had faded to a dull gray, my gaze tracking over them, stopping on one with the entire top exposed down to the worn bricks. The place really was beautiful in an eerie and sad way, but my heart pounded unsteadily in my chest as I waited for her to process everything.
Had I made the right decision?
Unease blossomed deep in my belly as I shifted from one foot to the next. Maybe I shouldn't have told her about Ren and the Elite.
Finally, she stopped and planted her hands on her hips. "You believe him?"
"Yes."
"Okay," she said, exhaling roughly as she scrunched up her nose. "If you believe him, then I believe him. I'm probably more certifiable when it comes to craziness than you could ever hope to be."