Fate's Consort Page 11

  “We’re transferring to a plane. It will be more comfortable for everyone.”

  Minutes later, Analise sat in a jet, thumbing through the latest entertainment magazine while the pilot went through a pre-flight check-up. She didn’t have to close her eyes for the memory of Lucifer’s kiss, his tongue devouring the inside of her mouth, to invade her mind. She wondered if she should be relieved or irritated he hadn’t stopped her from leaving.

  Irritated. Definitely irritated.

  Probably because his scent teased her memory, making her desire even more glaring, which meant she really needed to get her head together. She inhaled deeply and realized the smell wasn’t a memory. Analise mumbled a silent prayer before lifting her eyelids to see him strolling down the aisle. The man’s gait was liquid pleasure, his jeans clenching his thighs like they were made for each other.

  “Don’t you dare move,” she hissed at Mark sitting beside her.

  He grinned and unbuckled his seatbelt. “Nah, I’m going to let you handle this one, Empress.”

  “Traitor,” she muttered as he moved to one of the rear seats.

  Analise stared out the window. Lucifer slid onto the seat Mark had vacated.

  Analise Saria?

  She refused to acknowledge him. The hurt lingered.

  “We must talk, Analise Saria. It is imperative we are in accord.”

  “Imperative we are in accord?” She echoed. “Why? You decided and I’m to obey. End of story.”

  Turning so her back was to him, Analise gazed at the landscape as the jet took off. Acutely aware of the male seated beside her, she tried to focus on something mundane. She gave up, Lucifer was impossible to ignore. Her dreams hadn’t prepared her for the physical sensuality that nearly had her drooling. She took in the hard abs encased in a black silk T-shirt. Her gaze lowered to his muscular thighs, while not as thick as Winston’s Lucifer’s were definitely swoon-worthy.

  Who is Winston?

  There was an edge to his question that surprised her. Was the Seraphim jealous? She was tempted to answer then decided to enjoy the moment. When Lucifer shifted on the seat and extended his legs, she noticed he wore a pair of Levi 501s. Definitely a match made in heaven. Perfect jeans for a perfect body.

  She squealed at the sudden weight of a hand on her knee and turned to face Lucifer. Words shriveled in her throat, her anger melting like chocolate on a summery day. Her gaze refused to look away, desperate to inscribe in her memory a pair of breathtaking blue eyes. The longer she peered into Lucifer’s eyes, the more she realized she had mistaken his indifference. He was sincerely confused by her, had no idea how to engage her except as he would another angel. What Lucifer lacked was a sense of humanity.

  “Analise Saria.” She shook her head. “Consort, you must listen to me for your sake. You cannot treat my brother as if he were human. He is Seraphim. He betrayed his family, his kind, and the archangel he loved. It would be foolish to trust him.”

  “Why should trust I you?” she countered. “How can I be sure you’re telling the truth? How do I know this isn’t a game hatched by you and your brother to acquire AnthroGen? That you haven’t been playing me all these years?”

  “Playing you?” he asked. “You are not a toy. How do I play you?”

  Analise choked on a giggle. He really was ancient. “It’s slang for manipulating someone.”

  She looked down at her clenched fists. “I don’t know what to believe anymore. I’ve always known I was different, lived with the knowledge. To discover my existence is supposedly connected to a supernatural civil war is not how I expected to spend my day.”

  She fell silent. Seconds passed before she gazed at him. “I need to process this. To understand who and what I am, that I’m not losing my wits. I want to return to my apartment, to my city, to my cloistered life, and the people I care about. More than anything, I want you to stay away from me until I figure this out.”

  Analise felt the sudden stiffness in his touch before he lifted his hand from her knee. Lucifer undid his seatbelt and stood, staring down at her.

  “I comprehend your disbelief, Analise Saria. You have lived your life as human and therefore think like one. However, you are my Consort, and I will not allow you to forget the significance. I also will not allow you to endanger our prophecy, your life, and the existence of angel kind.”

  She turned to stare out the plane’s window until his soft tread faded as he walked to the rear of the jet. She resisted the urge to go after him, to make him understand. She was scared. If half of what Lilith revealed about angelic prophecy, there would be no real winner among angel kind. What terrified her more was the possibility that the human population would be decimated.

  Leaning back against the plush leather seat, Analise performed a rhythmic breathing exercise to combat her anxiety. Was there any way she might broker peace between the siblings, or at least convince them to take human beings out of the equation? The more she thought about it, the more Analise realized that she at least had to try. As Martine used to tell her, “No problem is insurmountable, Lise. All it takes is a little math and tequila.”

  Okay, she’d have trouble with the math, but Analise figured she sure as hell could work with tequila.

  Chapter 11

  The scent of her orgasm work Analise. Her fingers brushed the inside of her thigh and came away slick with wetness.

  Grabbing her phone, she tapped it. “Four-thirty?” she muttered before returning the phone to the nightstand.

  Since her return from Chaco, she was in a perpetual state of arousal. The instigator was none other than Lucifer, Seraphim and her nemesis. With sleep no longer an option, Analise got out of bed and headed to her closet. She grabbed underwear and strolled into the bathroom.

  Stripping off her sleep clothes and tossing them into the hamper, she stepped into the shower. The frigid shock to her body made her squeal before a burst of heat exploded over her skin. Gently pulsating water provided a welcome diversion from the thought of plucking Lucifer’s feathers out, one by bloody one. As her thoughts descended into blackness, she frowned. Not a very pleasant way to begin her morning.

  Analise quickly washed and rinsed. Once she was dry, she moisturized her skin, wrapped the towel around her, and reentered her bedroom. Her eyes avoided the disaster that was her bed until she dressed. Then, she stripped and remade the bed before she picked her iPad and pressed a button. “Start the coffee, Siri.”

  The slow drip of water followed her as she plopped on her sofa and picked up a remote. Within seconds the crisp intonation of a news anchor filled the room. The anchor’s voice faded as Siri’s voice poured from the television screen. “Your coffee is ready, Ms. Drake.”

  Strolling into the kitchen, Analise grabbed her mug and resettled on the sofa to check the European stock market. She’d become quite good at investing. It was also made it easy to turn down venture capitalists. When she and Martine started AnthroGen, they had been the only investors in the company. Analise was determined to keep it that way. Her coffee cup empty, she logged out of her investment account and tapped the email icon. Although Mark grabbed the majority of her emails, a few got through.

  Analise groaned as she read and deleted. Seventy-eight more to go. A text notification popped up.

  Peter: Are you back in San Francisco? Sorry to hear about your employee. I’m leaving for New York Thursday morning and I’d like to see you before I go. Coffee and dessert if you have the time.

  The icon notification flickered and she stared at the message. Was Lucifer telling the truth about Peter? Was he actually Satan? And if he was the Prince of Darkness, where were his legendary powers of seduction, where was the snake who seduced Eve? The space between her eyebrows crinkled. Nothing made sense. There was a piece of the puzzle missing, and she didn’t know where to look for it. Closing her eyes, she considered her options: blind faith in Lucifer. Give Peter the benefit of the doubt. Or, trust her instincts and the fierce Black woman magic that kept her ancestre
sses alive. Setting her coffee mug on the counter, she chose option three and sent a reply.

  I’m driving to Santa Cruz today. There’s a great place for dinner and dessert if you’d like to meet. Gerrard’s. Around 6?

  A few seconds passed before “see you at six” flashed on her television screen.

  Analise finished reading her emails and set the iPad on the table. Fortunately, Mark had scheduled overlapping meetings for the next day. Meeting Peter in Santa Cruz would let her multitask two issues—refuse Peter’s attempt to buy into AnthroGen and solve her stand-off with Dream Candy.

  There is the matter of your stubbornness. You hate being told what to do and Lucifer pissed you off.

  Analise didn’t bother to deny the accusation she had just lobbed. Her anger at Lucifer was justified, especially his thick-headed assumption she’d fall face down at his feet. Turning off the TV screen, she drained the rest of her coffee, sent a text to Mark, and shoved her iPad into her tote. As she started for the door, her ever-present companion paranoia kicked in. She roamed her apartment, checking locks and windows before she set the alarm and left.

  Tampa’s death had rattled since she was the first person to die who wasn’t directly related to AnthroGen or her. She wasn’t sure how Jess managed to keep the way Tampa died a mystery. The poor woman’s obit made no mention of demons, shifters, or queens, leaving her just another body bag trailing in the wake of Analise the death magnet.

  Traffic on the 280 Freeway was light for seven a.m. With luck, Analise figured she’d be in Santa Cruz by eight. She had no idea how she slipped away her guardians but she was going to enjoy the freedom. She’d sent Richard a text she was driving down. Tess must have been looking over his shoulder since the reply was to meet at the SeaCraft Cafe.

  Analise wondered what Tess would think of Lucifer. Tess had eased the heartache when Martine died. She listened without judgment, gave sparing advice, and kept Richard Houston in check when he decided to play God in Analise’s personal life. No way there’d be a conversation with Tess about Lucifer with curious Richard in the mix. An invitation to lunch in the city would give Analise the privacy she need—once she sorted out her mind about the Seraphim.

  She turned onto Seabright Avenue and pulled into the SeaCraft Cafe parking lot. Opening the door, Analise felt the early morning chill. Grabbing her jacket, she slipped it before getting out the car. Her stomach grumbled when she stepped through the door. The cafe offered some of the best blueberry muffins in town. She laughed when a dark brown-skinned woman squeezed past a customer.

  “Lise. I’m so glad to see you.”

  “Good morning, Tess,” Analise said, returning the woman’s hug.

  “Come on, we’ve got a booth in the back,” Tess said. “I’m so sorry about Mei Li. Richard and I are heartbroken. How are you doing?”

  A cup of steaming coffee and a muffin in front of her, Analise gave the server her order before she replied to Tess’ question. “I’m okay. I guess. I’m still processing everything. Jess and Mark are being super-protective.”

  Analise closed her eyes, her jaw clenched against the hurt. “The police still have no idea where Iris is, or if she’s still. . .”

  Richard grabbed her hand. Tess placed hers on top of his. Analise opened her eyes and saw the pain and worry in the couple’s eyes.

  “We were worried when we couldn’t reach you once we heard the news,” Richard said. “Where were you, Lise?”

  “New Mexico.”

  The appearance of their server gave Analise a tiny bit of breathing room. She knew Richard was going to go at her disappearance like a puppy with a chew toy. Once the server walked away, he fulfilled her prophecy.

  “What was in New Mexico, Lise?”

  “Mark and I went to see Sani Hayoi. There was something that might be of use to our research.” She averted her gaze for a second before she changed the topic. “I’m worried we may never find who did this.”

  “Do you think what happened is connected to our research, to AnthroGen?”

  Analise took a forkful of her omelet and slid it into her mouth. She chewed slowly, wanting time to formulate an answer. Guilt kicked in. She was certain what happened to Mei Li and Iris was a continuation of a serial killing pattern linked to her.

  “Richard, let Analise eat her breakfast,” Tess fussed. “There’s plenty of time for your questions later. Besides, this is no place for this discussion.”

  Richard nodded. “You’re right, sweetheart.”

  Analise gave Tess a grateful look and turned her attention to her food.

  “You look like one of Mario’s chew toys,” Richard said as he and Analise strolled into AnthroGen’s lab after leaving the cafe. She bit her lip to stop the expletive about to explode. She had to admire Richard’s restraint during the drive over. He’d held his questions for nearly twenty minutes. She did glower at him as she followed him into his office.

  “Thanks. You really are spot on with the insight. I don’t know how Tess puts up with you.”

  “I’m puzzled myself,” he replied thoughtfully. “I can say my mom is forever grateful to Tess for taking me off her hands.”

  Analise laughed, the first time in days. She hadn’t realized how tense things had become. “Well, Tess has nearly gotten you housebroken.”

  “Funny, Dr. Drake.” Richard waved toward the large chair in his office. Once she was seated, he leaned against his desk. “Speak. I need to know you’re okay.”

  “I don’t know.” She stared down at her clenched fingers. “So much has happened.”

  “What can you tell me about the source DNA we’re playing with, Dr. Drake? I suspect it belongs to Iris.”

  Startled by his question and assumption, Analise peered at Richard. This was the first time he’d asked about the source DNA. When she handed it to him, she told him it was from a full-blooded shifter but didn’t provide details. He treated the anonymity of the “donor” confidentially to protect her and AnthroGen.

  “No, it doesn’t belong to Iris.” Lifting her eyes to his face, she asked, “Did Martine tell you anything about the origins of her research?”

  “No, I joined the lab when she needed funding and I had tons. I was familiar with her patents and the genetic research she was doing. To be honest, I was excited to work with her, so joining AnthroGen was a win-win situation for me.”

  Analise stood and walked over to Richard’s wall-to-ceiling bookshelf. She picked up a glass rendering of the Renaissance theory of the Great Chain of Being. The sculpture was beautifully executed and, for a brief time, she lost herself in its fragility.

  “So beautiful,” she observed before turning to face Richard. “Do you believe in angels? The mythos of Satan, fallen angels, and demons? The war in heaven?”

  “Interesting question to ask a scientist,” he said with a shrug. “The documented existence of shifters and telepaths has changed my perspective. I accept the possibility of other supernaturals. As to the mythology around Satan and his fallen angels, I’m inclined to say, as a species, we humans dislike our complicated psyche so much we’ve given life to Satan to justify our destructive behavior.”

  “You investigate the genetic origins of shifters, although you’ve claimed to not encountered a full shifter. Why not believe in Satan and fallen angels?”

  “Touché,” Richard said before moving to the couch and draping himself along its length. Analise smiled. It was, as he called it, his fav thinking pose.

  “Shifters are different. I’ve read the studies and government reports, seen the ‘documented’ videos of shifters mid-shift, and I employed two postdocs with recessive shifter genes. There is empirical ‘evidence’ for the existence of shifters as a genetic anomaly within the human species. All of this allows me to embrace Martine’s research to prove her hypotheses. What I need is an actual shifter.”

  He pushed off his desk and started pacing, his tan fingers moving in and out of his hair. “I’d love to have a full-blooded shifter on call. Howeve
r, I do understand their paranoia. I’d have a major attitude if I faced being microchipped, caged, bled, and executed all in the name of science. When it comes to angels, fallen or otherwise, I would need the evidence to believe in their existence.”

  “Half of your wish has been granted.” Analise returned the sculpture to the shelf. She reached into her bag and pulled out a small vial. “This DNA belongs to a full-blooded female shifter.”

  Richard abruptly halted and stared at the small tube on her palm. “Where did you get the sample? Wait, don’t say another word. I don’t want to know anything until I examine it.”

  She grinned. “A scientist who embraces ignorance?” Her expression became grave. “By taking this, you may put your life in danger.”

  “If that were true, I’d already been dead, Lise. Remember, I work for you. Okay, that was a bad joke,” he said sheepishly. “Sorry.”

  A worried look creased his forehead. “Gender seems to be the determinant in who dies. What puzzles me is why the killer hasn’t come after you.”

  “Probably because I’m better protected than the fucking president of this country,” Analise offered. “You’ve seen the drivers Mark employs.”

  “They are some scary motherfuckers, especially Roger. He and I may both be Black but I wouldn’t date you for a zillion dollars.”

  Analise’s laughter exploded. She wiped the tears from her eyes. “Thanks for that vote of confidence, and glad to know there’s someone you fear besides Tess and your mom.”

  “Yeah, Roger is that someone. Anyway, if this sample sheds light on Martine and Mei Li’s deaths and why Iris is missing, for now ignorance is bliss.”

  He crossed the room and took Analise’s hand. “Whatever you must tell me can wait.”

  She searched his face. He wanted the truth. As always, he protected her and her privacy as fiercely as his own. Her cell phone beeped, giving her a welcome interruption. She glanced down at the screen before pushing a button. “Hey.”