Arkdone didn’t miss Meg’s observations.
“According to Mr. Niche’s report, you took some convincing before agreeing to this visit, but once your initial concerns were addressed, you came willingly.”
“That’s an interesting way of putting it.” Meg reached for her glass of orange juice and took a sip, inwardly cringing at the bitter combination of it and the toothpaste that still clung minty on her tongue.
Eloise took this interest at the items on the table as her cue to come start to serve food. Scrambled eggs, French toast, fruit-covered crepes, fat muffins, bacon and sausage quickly filled her plate and the smaller plates around her. Meg held her hand up and stopped the edible onslaught refusing Eloise’s advances with another serving dish.
As the maid served, Arkdone spoke. “You have to understand my curiosity. Why would you willingly come back to me?”
Meg’s eyes dropped as she picked up a fork, put a small bite of crepe on her tongue and chewed thoughtfully before she answered. “I don’t belong with the Winter family anymore.”
Her simple sentence seemed to surprise the Senator.
“What makes you say that?” He talked casually, as though a friend just showing concern for her problems over a cup of coffee.
Meg sighed deeply, pursing her lips together and gathering her words. “They fear me.”
“Afraid of you? But why?” The Senator’s handsome brows lifted in surprise.
“They think I’ve become too powerful,” Meg shrugged and lifted a forkful of eggs to her mouth, chewing quickly. The more food she put into her stomach, the hungrier she felt.
Watching her closely and taking a few bites of toast himself, the Senator allowed her words to linger in the air while she ate. When her fork slowed minutes later, Arkdone pressed on.
“Do you think you’re too powerful?” he asked.
“Not at all,” she answered without hesitation.
“Are they afraid you will hurt them?”
“I think they fear what they don’t understand.”
“Most people do. Do you understand the gift I gave you?”
“You erased my memory.”
“Yes?”
“Would you feel gifted if someone erased your memory?” Meg posed.
“Yes, in fact, I would.” The Senator sat back in his plush seat, coffee steaming in hand. “I was just telling Michelle the other day how much I would appreciate not having my memories hold me back.”
Meg watched the Senator’s eyes and tried to read his sincerity. “You’re serious.”
“Of course, I am. I don’t want to lie to you, Meg.”
“Will you let me read your intentions?”
“If you let me read yours.”
“You’re a psychic, too?”
“Not exactly like you, but I can hold my own.”
“What can you do?”
“Are we laying our cards out on the table?”
“Some of them,” Meg agreed.
“I can shield my thoughts from other psychics.”
“That must be convenient—especially around me.”
“I knew what I was getting into, befriending an empath.”
“Is that what we are? Friends?”
Arkdone shrugged and took a slow sip of his coffee. “You tell me.”
“Are you capable of reading my intentions if I let you?”
“Yes, but you have to open yourself to it.”
“How is this possible?” Meg asked, frowning deeply.
“What’s that?”
Meg narrowed her eyes. “Are you human?”
“You are as brilliant as you are gifted, my dear,” the Senator complimented.
“You’re not human,” Meg answered her own question, eyes wide with surprise at the conclusion she came to.
“Mr. Niche,” the senator called, “and Eloise, would you please excuse us?” The senator’s gaze left neither questioning what he wanted. Eloise curtsied and backed out of the room as though Arkdone were royalty. Gideon moved catlike toward the door but projected his thoughts directly to her.
I’m right outside these doors, if you need me.
Once the doors were closed, the Senator stood and walked toward the giant fireplace where he leaned back and crossed his arms casually. “I am a metahuman like you.”
“How?”
“Does it matter?”
“Yes. From what I learned from the Winter family, Alik, Evan and I were the first three survivors.”
“That’s true.”
“But how can you be a metahuman and be—however old you are?”
“Well, now that’s an interesting story.”
“I’d like to hear it,” Meg stood from her seat, walked toward an ornate settee and leaned against it, arms crossed. The sweater dress was soft against her skin, but in that moment, Meg would have done anything to be wearing a pair of jeans and boots.
The Senator narrowed his eyes at Meg for a moment. “I’ll tell you what. Let’s play a game. I’ll answer your question if you’ll answer mine. We’ll continue until we run out of questions,” he glanced at his wristwatch, “or time. Whichever comes first.”