Page 16 of Descent (Fractured Diamonds Saga #4)

CIRCE

Y our head might just float away looking at him like that.

Artemis’s appraising glance sweeps over Ero as he runs through another drill with Haru.

“I’m not some lovestruck girl.”

The wooden swords are so familiar, the lessons and the face of my old master too. I just can’t really pinpoint when I was here, how long ago, or what the context was. I think my father sent me…

Worse. You’re letting him in. I thought he was just a means to an end.

He was.

Until he wasn’t.

Ananke’s last conversation plays through my mind. She warned me against trusting him. She warned me to keep my feelings in check.

“He was your husband. He was the father of your children. Now, he is neither of those things. He is a shell. A tool. Can you honestly say that you would go back to that life now? After everything?”

“No. I don’t think I could. Those memories, the few that I have, hurt too much to face.”

“Then use them to keep him at arm’s length.”

“Yet I am supposed to sleep with him? Use him?”

“There’s nothing wrong with a little fun, Circe. Context. Compartmentalize. Remember that he was also once your enemy.”

A newer snippet of information that she let slip. What he was when I found him. An assassin for Adil Abas of the Mocro. The organization out of Morocco that helped wipe my family off the map.

But no matter how hard I try, the Ero I see before me, the Ero I share a bed with…

He’s not the villain she made him out to be. At least not now.

The two men exchange strikes, taunting and gibing.

“You have ape arms. Use them, Kyojin .” Haru swiftly parries, never wasting a movement. Economic. Tight.

Ero growls, a little frustration, a little anticipation. What passes for a smile on his face tugs at one corner of his mouth. “You punished me enough for overextending my reach already, Haru-san.”

“Ah, you do learn. But it is still ultimately an advantage over someone smaller like me.”

“Neither of us have found an advantage over you this entire week, Usagi !” I shout, chuckling at the squint Haru flicks my way. He always hated when I called him rabbit.

Our time near Kyoto is nearly done. Another mission awaits.

It’s gone by too quickly.

I could stay here in the hills forever. Live in the little cottage with Ero, eating off the land. Bathing in the river. Sparring and meditating and losing ourselves in one another every night…

“Yet you defeated me yesterday.”

“I cheated.” I shrug, stretching deeper into a split. Haru’s drills definitely made me stronger, faster, more flexible.

“No such thing,” Ero barks, using the brief reprieve to find an opening. Haru darts back on the defensive, right to the edge of the practice ring, under the boughs of a cherry blossom tree.

“I could not agree more—” Haru laughs, lunging from a backpedal into a fully extended thrust forward faster than I can process. There’s no way Ero dodges or blocks a move like that.

Except Ero isn’t there.

He’s a step to the left in the shadows of the tree. His sword taps Haru once.

“How the fuck…” I sit up, gathering my legs under me.

“Finally!” Ero shouts, tossing his head back. He composes himself immediately, bowing to Haru. “Sensei.”

“ Han Kage .” Half Shadow. The moniker Haru gives him clicks along with what Ero just did.

“He used the contrast of sun and shade…” I nod, joining them as they head toward the huts and a well-earned dinner.

“And his own shadow to mislead my eyes.” Haru wags his eyebrows.

“I’m going to call it what it was. Luck.” Ero flops down on his mat, sprawling.

“Not to be discounted, ever. At least according to my grandmother and her cat.”

“Speaking of luck…did you—?” I start the kettle for tea, raising my eyebrows expectantly.

“Yes. The agreement went through. My kumichō does not want to make an enemy of Ananke. He will comply.”

“I’m not even going to ask,” Ero grumbles, packing up some of his clothes.

“Smart man,” Haru quips, chopping vegetables. “What I will share is this: be assured that the intel you helped me gather will secure my clan’s holdings and secure a better, safer Japan.”

“So not an ally, but not an enemy either,” I summarize, watching his eyes for a clue.

“More or less. Now relax, drink, and eat. Your flight leaves early tomorrow.”

Our extended stay in Japan felt like a breath of fresh air.

Months of constant flying, driving, fighting, fucking, and partying all over Asia drained me. Seeing an old friend shook some things loose. Mostly good things, if a little confusing. It helped me remember a part of who I am, or was.

Focusing on that self-control and discipline did wonders for my wayward heart.

By the time we make it to the Malay Archipelago, Indonesia, Malaysia, the Philippines, months have passed since this all started. Ero and I have found our groove. Japan just upped the ante.

We’ve given ourselves over to the routine. It’s all too easy to fall back into after a break.

Travel. Set up shop. Scout. Infiltrate.

Then it’s nonstop running, battling, and the aftermath lost in each other’s arms.

Indonesia finds us scuba diving into the wreck of a sunken ship, locating remnants of a horde of forgotten gold. The exchange buys loyalty, silence, and favors from some of the most notorious preman gangs. All to be paid forward to another group in the future.

That’s Ananke’s sweet spot. Collecting debts and trading favors.

New Zealand leads us on a wild goose chase trying to hunt down a fleeing politician, guilty of massive embezzlements. Just another chess move for Ananke.

Skiing down slopes after an old bodyguard on the South Island gets us a lead on his location. We hack through a rainforest, Jeeping across rivers and up rocky terrain. Eventually we track him down. We record his confession. Then we let him go.

Orders. Never an explanation.

Simple enough when there’s no lives to take.

But it’s Buenos Aires that sees us returning to our roots. Cold-blooded killers.

Ero’s jet black hair shines in the torch light. Slicked back, he looks debonair, his tuxedo cutting lines across his body, complimenting every asset to perfection. Shoulders. A trim waist and an ass that begs me to spank it.

Just like my shimmering black dress showcases my curves and my back. We’re a match made in Hades.

I take his arm, swaying up the steps of the mansion.

Inside, we case the place, checking off guard positions against our intel. Escape routes. Important dignitaries and persons of interest. Confirming their presence is one of several side tasks Ananke added at the last minute.

“She never mentioned that she’d be here.” Ero hisses under his breath, slipping an arm around my waist. “Three o’clock.”

The maneuver looks natural, feels natural, even if it makes my temperature rise a few degrees to have him touch my lower back. He picks another explosive from the lining of my dress as he does, adhering it to the veranda window. Diversion set.

“Spying on us, or up to her own schemes?” I ponder, draping my arms over his neck, toying with his collar.

“I’m sure she was invited. There’s probably a whole mailing-list club for elite, mask-wearing organization events.”

“By our ex-Nazi host? That tracks.”

“Ex-Nazi’s grandson,” Ero clarifies, raising a finger.

“And a candidate for president…”

“None of our business though.”

“No, not really.” I toss my head to the side carelessly. “But how will we recognize him with these masks on?”

“We’ll have to get close. Care to dance?” He steps back a bit, offering me his hand.

“We’ve never?—”

“But you know how?” he adds, his expression condescending. Sometimes he’s still such an asshole.

My flat glare answers for me as I snatch his fingers and lead the way. The live orchestra leads out of a subdued overture and into a lively waltz. Ero tugs me back toward him, spinning me once before we fall into sync with the other dancers.

Right on time, our blond-haired, blue-eyed host steps onto the dance floor with his wife. Applause patters under the swell of strings.

“Well, she’s certainly watching us.”

“Hm. Subtle.” Ero turns us into the shifting movements of the dance, cycling through the spinning mass of other couples.

Without missing a beat, he cuts between the host and his bride, offering a curt, “ Permiso ?”

“Representative Frers, I presume?” I catch his eye before he can protest. His expression changes as he looks me over, smiling.

“ Si, senorita. Bienvenidos a mi casa. With whom do I have the pleasure of dancing?”

“Shh.” I purse my lips. “After.”

He’s more than happy to comply. We spin, taking center stage. From my periphery, I make out Ero in our orbit, distracting the politician’s wife with inaudible conversation, right in her ear. She’s enraptured, blushing to his whispered words, pressed so close to the body of a much younger man.

When the fuck did he get charming?

The music builds, guiding us into position. At the crescendo, Frers twirls me out to his right. Ero shifts alongside him, twirling the man’s wife away into the crowd.

I reach the end of the spin, rebounding back in. Instead of letting him catch me, I keep spinning. Dragging the surprised man toward my original dance partner. We part, Frers’s momentum carrying between us.

Right into the razor-thin wire stretched between our hands.

With a sickening gurgle and a thud, his head hits the middle of the dance floor. Scarlet mist adorns the other guests.

The music stops.

One woman screams.

And Ero detonates the tiny bombs we set all over the house. The same bombs that destroy any hint of the microcameras we used to upload images of the prominent guests and their entourages. We’re out the window before the first guard can arrive, repelling down the cliffside and to our hidden ride.

“Hope Ananke had a way out!”

“I’m sure she’ll call when she needs us next.”

Brazil. Rio.

After our first real dance, we can’t get enough. The tropic heat has us barely dressed, gyrating to Samba and Frevo. Days bleed together, time loses meaning.

Our journey takes us through Ecuador, Columbia, Panama. A ship carries us to the Caribbean. More dancing. More drinking.

Night after night of mind-melting orgasms. Ero’s creativity in bed knows no equal.

I’m upside down, my arms and head resting on the bed as he devours my pussy, his arms circling my tummy and holding me up.

He’s hanging from the underside of the dock, keeping us from drifting away in the current, my legs wrapped around his middle as the surf guides our rhythm.

I’m stretched out, suspended between him and the railing of our hotel room balcony, gripping the bar with all my strength as he spears into me.

We’re recovering from one such bout, sharing a bottle of tequila in a hammock when a messenger comes trotting up the beach to our solitary bungalow.

“Haw do ?” I offer, dropping my feet to the sand. No response.

He’s wide-eyed, tight-lipped. Probably just some kid from the town nearby. He sets down a burner phone on the table and bolts.

And of course, it immediately rings.

Ero groans, swinging back as I answer. He’s only wearing a robe, his muscular chest exposed and looking oh so scrumptious.

“Where the hell have you two been?!” Ananke’s voice crackles through the speaker.

I stifle a laugh at Ero’s waving middle finger. “We needed…supplies.”

Ero catches my eye, parting his robe, a single bead of sweat running down his stomach to?—

“—supposed to be on your way back to Europe last week! I have a mountain of requests for your services—” She rambles on as I hold the phone away from my ear.

Eventually she dials it down, sighing.

“We just needed a few days to recover. I left a message at the bank in Panama, like we’re supposed to.”

“The only message I got was a statement of your expense account .” From the way she says it, I take it we’ve overstepped.

But I’m drunk as a skunk and feeling sassy. “Oh no! Did we use up all our allowance? Sorry Mom.”

Silence follows and I suddenly feel very, very nervous.

Ero’s right there, working the phone out of my fingers. “Look, we followed protocol. We checked to see if you had another assignment. Nothing was listed so we cut loose.”

“Cutting loose is how you both wound up in your respective situations. How you both wound up in a ditch. Cutting loose is how you were betrayed and lost one another to begin with. You mock my concern. But who else was there to pick you up and fix you?”

Neither of us have a response, something sour and heavy hanging in the air between us. It’s fear. Fear that she’ll do something, punish us somehow.

Somehow, even on the other side of the world, I know she could.

Ero opens his mouth to speak. He freezes.

I didn’t hear her speak, but I know she must have whispered something. His eyes glaze over, his pupils dilating. Seeing it happen right before my eyes after so long sends a fissure right through my chest, a pang of anguish through my heart.

Ero recovers, his expression pained, stern.

“Where do you need us next?”