Page 10

Alexiares

I took a deep breath before turning the knob of my home. Home . How fucking bizarre coming from my mouth. Over my nearly thirty years on this earth, there weren’t many places I’d refer to as ‘ home.’ Matter of fact, there was no place I considered home. No place but here. With her.

But instead of being happy about the change in my life, I found myself consumed by the sorrow of how we’d come to be here. Evander and Tiago’s belongings now lined the shelves next to Prescott’s clutter of trinkets and other shit he’d collected over the years.

“Drakos.” Bietoletti, one of Ronan’s ‘emissaries’, brushed past me with a stiff shoulder.

Stopping a step out of the door frame, I glanced over my shoulder, watching him take the two steps down and out into The Compound. I gathered myself, clenching my fingers to keep from drawing my knife and flinging it at him.

“Gonna tell me what that was about?”

“I threw a tantrum,” she said casually, tossing a hand in front of her face. “He didn’t understand that my request to meet with Ronan was nonnegotiable.”

The fireplace was on despite the heat of the day. Heat radiated off it, smoldering the room to a damn near suffocating temperature. It gave her comfort. I knew that. The familiarity of it all with her slice of berry pie and cup of coffee seated on the wooden coffee table. A mancala board sat at the center in between the brown leather couches. All of it untouched. As it had been every night since we moved in.

“So?” Amaia questioned from the corner of the room she used as a study.

I closed the door, locking it behind me. “What?”

“Are you going to tell me why Lola is here or should I beg?”

“Begging works.” I strode over to her, taking my time to observe her and pressed a gentle kiss to her forehead. The softness of Amaia’s skin under my lips and her offer to beg made me want more, but I pulled back. Spreading my legs, I leaned back into the chair across from her. There was a hunger in my gaze and from the flushing of her face and the nibble on her lip, she couldn’t hide her own. “I always enjoy seeing you beg.”

Amaia’s foot climbed up my leg from under the desk. My dick went hard at the sensation. Her heavy ass Doc Marten stopped directly over it, pushing slightly on my balls. It hurt like shit and not in the way that turned me on. “Talk, Bloodhound .”

“As you wish, Princess,” I said as I adjusted myself in my seat. “I don’t know.”

“You don’t know …” Amaia arched a brow of disbelief accompanied with a slow nod.

She was no fool. Maybe she overestimated the weight I held with Lola, with our relationship. Or she read it right. I could press the issue, though something told me I shouldn’t. At least not yet.

“Correct. Those were the words that came out of my mouth.”

“Alexiares,” she asserted, wiping the smirk right off my face.

“As much as I wish I had a better answer for you, I got nothing. She only asked what your plan was now that Ronan’s running shit.”

“He is not.” Amaia grumbled, turning her attention back to the paperwork at her desk. “And you told her what?”

“The conversation was mostly compliments on your adeptness, her refusal to believe you’d roll over and play nice, coupled with a not-so-subtle inference for an invitation. Other than that, I told her nothing.”

“You told her nothing?” Amaia’s head shot back up. She inhaled and held it in, eyes narrowing.

“There’s nothing to tell as far as I’m aware. You dropped a bomb a month ago about some plan to find Ronan’s most wanted and then continued on business as usual. I feel like I can’t take my eye off you for more than a few minutes without worrying if you’ve taken off. What happened? What made you change your mind?”

“Grief.” Her raspy voice was a muted whisper. “If you sit with it long enough, it makes you reflect on what’s important.”

“And what conclusion did you come to?”

“That keeping this place running the way Prescott and Jax envisioned it is going to take a lot more than anger. I need to bide my time, calculate my next move and that’s not going to happen overnight. I want revenge more than anything Alexiares.” Her soft, doe eyes lined with tears. Amaia shook her head, tucking a wild curl behind her ear. “The timing has to be right, and it’s not now.”

“Then cancel the meeting with Ronan.” There was no good that would come of it. I’d seen plenty of Ronan’s in my day. Playing nice, playing the part , was exactly what they wanted you to do. You needed to strike fast and hard. But it wasn’t my call to make. I respected Amaia, worshipped her as a goddess, and whatever she desired, I desired. But that didn’t mean I wouldn’t voice my opinion. I would never stop that.

“No.”

“Of course not,” I said, the words leaving my mouth before she’d finished speaking.

Amaia sat up straight, her head held high and the tears receding. “Waiting for the timing to be right doesn’t mean I want Ronan to think we are completely complacent.”

“Art of War.” I grinned, licking my lips in admiration.

“Timing, perception, and decisive action are fundamentals I expect each of my soldiers to understand.”

I arched a brow. “Is that what I am? Your soldier?”

Amaia studied me for a moment. My vicious little General of Monterey Compound stared back at me. “How much do you still trust her?”

I paused. Careful consideration of my words was important here. I trusted Lola to an extent. Amaia’s trust, similar to Lola’s, was hard-earned and easy to lose these days. “Fuck, I don’t know. As long as I’m around, nothing will happen to you. I know that much, she’d never risk the consequences of my wrath.”

“Great for me, bad for The Compound, is literally the only thing I gathered from that response. I’m putting Riley on it.”

Coming to Lola’s defense served me no purpose. I didn’t want to vouch for her, talk out my ass, only to be wrong. Better to lean on the side of caution, especially knowing the gift Riley possessed. It would be too easy for him. But if Lola ever found out …

“What bullshit are you working through now?” I asked, changing the subject.

Amaia slid over a canteen and the metal cup in front of her. She’d been using water to fight her demons. Going through the motions of drinking without giving in to her desires. I wasn’t sure if there was any real science to it but it seemed to do the job. She hadn’t had a drink since we’d gotten back.

I took a moment to appreciate that. Getting through Prescott’s death sober was no small feat. And though she would rather fucking die than confess the dirty truth, Seth’s death was taking a toll as well.

“Let’s play ‘would you rather’.”

A wry smile teased my lips as I poured myself a glass. “Okay then.”

“Would you rather go down to one meal a day or have one meal spread across three meal times?”

“Uh, neither.” I took a shot then fought off a gag. “That’s not water.”

“No, it’s kava. Lucky us, they were finally ready to harvest right as the food’s running out, huh?” Amaia’s gaze remained down at the paper in front of her face. She pursed her lips side to side, not paying me any mind.

“The fuck is?—”

She let out a heavy sigh as her eyes rolled up toward the wooden paneled ceiling. The movement was slow and exaggerated. Her patience nonexistent today more so than any other. “Plant native to the Pacific islands. It has medicinal purposes among other effects.”

“Effects such as feeling off your shit?” I rolled my tongue around in my mouth. The tingling sensation was rather unpleasant. Admittedly, the edges of my anxiety waned and euphoria took over.

“On this episode of ‘at least it’s not tequila’ …” Amaia grumbled and we met eyes. Humor glistened back, dancing wild and matching the reflection of the fire catching them at the right angle. It mimicked her power. Her beauty.

Stiffing a laugh I pushed the canteen back over to her. “Want to tell me why we’re reducing food intake? Are we working earth elementals in The Gardens for fun?”

“We aren’t working them, they’re doing their jobs, watch it. Since Ronan denied our most recent proposed trade agreement, we’re no longer receiving resources we relied on before.”

“If you’re going to push back on something, it should be this. The initial agreement was our sovereignty in the exchange of resources. Resources he explicitly stated were human to help with whatever shit he has going on behind his borders—minus the experimenting.”

“Yeah, unfortunately that wasn’t the same deal he struck with others. Their material resources are his material resources, which affects us too. Yet another way to weaken us all. Plus I’ve had to divert resources with rebuilding and operations, but I didn’t think …” Amaia gathered her composure and reached for the kava. She downed a mouthful, then two. “I didn’t think pulling fifty workers from The Gardens to work on natural security barriers around our borders would have such a big impact, especially with the five hundred refugees we accepted this week alone?—”

“And the thousand troops from Elko and Sacramento.”

She glared at me. “ And the thousand troops from Elko and Sacramento. How could I forget? Thanks. We’re also supporting the soldiers we have deployed for border patrol. That combined with everything else going on … we’re already reaching into our stored rations. The food situation is tense for now but not dire. I’m thinking of what will happen if we continue on this way before we’re able to recoup what was lost in the first place. The Garden workers may be back but there isn’t a great ratio of earth elementals among the refugees … yet another problem to exhaust myself trying to solve.”

Covert Province had damaged far more than we initially assessed. They’d been strategic in their pillaging. The Gardens had been burned, The Docks exploded, and The Stables slaughtered. At least the slaughtering of The Stables had been thwarted by the breeders and stable hands that had refused to leave on the off chance of the worst happening. The fuckers had thought of everything down to poisoning the soil. We hadn’t figured it out until too many important days of some shit had passed. Reina had explained it in great detail but all I’d gotten from the conversation was that we were fucked. I hadn’t realized how fucked we were until now.

Amaia nibbled on her bottom lip, her stare distant, no longer here. I knew where her mind was going. To Prescott. To Jax. How she needed them.

She may have wanted them but she didn’t need them. I only wished she could see that blatant fact. Everyone saw her as strong but that only mattered if she believed it herself.

Our minds had become one throughout our trials and tribulations. A fact proven once again as she read my thoughts. “Before you say I don’t need them to keep this place going, don’t. My entire life I’ve been a sheep and my entire life, people have followed me like a leader instead. Nothing I do is groundbreaking, I find someone that inspires me and aim to be like them, to do good the way they would. Now that’s all gone and I have no idea what that leaves me with.”

“It leaves you with you.” Amaia’s gaze snapped to mine at the words. Angry at first, then something of acceptance entered them.

Her gaze was fierce. It always was. But those rich brown eyes … They were the kind that weathered storms and still came out warm. Earthy. Mimicking the dirt I’d buried my hands in when the world fell apart. When I fell apart. Grounding. Real. Solid. I could get lost in them but always find my way back. And sometimes I swore there was a fire flickering beneath the surface, mirroring her magic. Eyes that had seen far too much but refused to surrender the soul behind them. Amaia’s eyes weren’t just brown—they were the color of home. And I’d defend that always, even if it meant saving her from herself.

I reached my hand across from the desk and she glanced down warily before taking it. “Come on. Let’s take a break. I’ve been dying to fuck with that machine since we got back.”

“Can we not say dying, please?” Amaia’s laugh was clipped and morbid.

She rose to her feet, and I gave my girl a pat on the ass on the way out the door. “Anything for you, Princess.”