Page 18 of First (After the End #1)
THE SCENT
Gabriel
Leaving her is about as easy as ripping out my own arm.
However, years of discipline count for something, and I make myself do it anyway. Still, when I join Martia in the elevators to go meet with the lieutenant generals, I’m in a shittier mood than usual. “Any news on last night’s explosion?” I ask.
“We’re still working on that,” she explains, “but there doesn’t seem to be much evidence tying it to House Larsen.”
“What about the rest?”
“They’re being very messy. Our informants have reported that Lord Laren reached out to the heads of the other Houses and tried to rope them into joining forces to overthrow you.”
I snort. “He’s so fucking predictable.”
“Yup. He got shut down, of course. Late last night he dragged Lennart and Gunner to speak to the council. Who reminded them of the concept of law.”
“Fantastic.” I nod. “That leaves them two options: take it on the chin, or launch another strike.”
“And we all know Lord Larsen would never choose the former.” She grins. “You gotta give it to Ivar—claiming the Right is having the effect we hoped on House Larsen. They seem to be getting sloppy and a little desperate, just like he predicted.”
“Ivar predicted Lennart would object to the Right and give me a chance to kill him on the spot.”
“Okay, he may have been overly optimistic on the timing, but we’re getting there. Plus…”
I glance at her. “What?”
“It doesn’t seem like you mind.” At my lifted eyebrow, she elaborates, “Having the girl around, I mean.”
The elevator changes direction and begins to move vertically. I turn to Martia, my arms folded on my chest, and wait for her to continue. She has never been one to mince words.
“I have eyes, Gabe. And I’ve known you for fifteen years.”
I suck the inside of my cheek. “Both facts.”
“None of this is normal.”
“And by ‘this,’ you mean…?”
She gestures in my direction, entertained. “The way you’re letting some Omega you met less than twenty-four hours ago get under your skin while you’re at war with your political rival.”
“Lord Larsen is no rival, just a fossil rotting in entitlement, and his days are numbered. As for the Omega, I first met her long before yesterday.”
She frowns. “Did you?”
I don’t bother to reply, but my hand lifts to my arm, and I nearly groan in frustration when it encounters Kevlar instead of warm skin.
For the first time in my life, I resent my armor.
I want to trace the scar she left on my arm.
The place where she marked me long before I knew who she was or what she would grow to become. Kuznetzov’s daughter, too.
Fuck. She was there all along, wasn’t she?
“It’s unexpected,” I admit.
“What is?”
“Her.” I take a deep breath. Look straight ahead. “I’m going to speak to the generals, and then I’ll make sure everything is in place and that there’s nothing Lord Larsen can do without me finding out. I have a different job for you.”
“Which would be?”
“I need you to make sure Lennart is kept busy elsewhere for the rest of the day. I don’t care what you have to do. Cut his Achilles tendons if you need to.”
“With pleasure. And after that?”
I feel myself smile. “I’m not giving her back, if that’s what you’re asking.”
“For how long?”
Forever. That’s the only possible answer. But I can’t tell that to Martia, because even I know how deranged it sounds. “For however fucking long I want her.”
“Gabe, it’s… You might not have a choice.”
“I always have a choice.”
Martia sighs. But then she asks, “Her scent changed. You noticed it, too, right?”
After a beat, I nod.
“It’s so much stronger than even last night. I’ve never seen anything like it. There is something very wrong here.” Her throat works. “Think Lennart Larsen is cut from the same cloth as his father?”
I consider the matter. A wave of anger courses through me, but I stave it off. I can be patient, at least for short periods. By the end of the week at the latest, I’m going to give Lord Larsen and his son exactly what they deserve.
“For Lennart’s own sake,” I say, “I really hope he isn’t.”