Page 77 of To Catch A Rogue

"I don't know if it's entirely successful," Ava admitted. "But I have tested it on myself and it appears to assist in the recovery process and lessen the impact of the poison."

Kincaid's head snapped around sharply. "You poisoned yourself with Black Vein totest an antidote?"

Ava's lips pressed firmly together. "It might be a matter of life and death, and these are my friends. I can't just let them—or you—die when I know it won't killme. Of course, the problem is, now I don't know if it will stop a blue blood from dying, because I'm a poor test subject. I just know it works, to a degree."

"Sorry, Kincaid. The pair of you can discuss this later," Gemma interrupted pointedly. "In private."

Kincaid pushed out of his chair and strode to the window, scrubbing his mouth in fury. Charlie went after him, clapping a hand on his shoulder and murmuring in his ear, as Ava stared after her fiancé longingly.

"And we would prefer it if you didn't take such risks, Ava." Gemma knelt in front of her, clasping her hands. "You are our friend too, and while you survived one Black Vein attack, we don't know if the serum has other, further reaching consequences."

"I only did it once," Ava muttered.

"So no Black Vein," Byrnes said, "No decapitation. No removal of a heart. We could burn him alive."

"Fire is out of the question too," Gemma said, and Obsidian tried not to look at her.

Only she knew how closely he'd come to dying in the fire set by Silas to implicate her. He wasn't precisely afraid of it, but the sight of roaring flames made him extremely uncomfortable.

"We're not killing anyone. Yet," Gemma insisted. "We don't dare risk an international incident, not even for Malloryn's sake. We just need to string Balfour along and buy a little time."

The slap of a book closing drew Obsidian’s attention, and Lark glanced sideways at him. "Why you? Why does Balfour wantyouto do this deed? He's got at least twodhampirworking for him, and probably a handful of assassins up his sleeve. He didn't get where he is without shedding a little blood, and as much as you think he wants to frame you, it's dangerous to give his enemy a chance to haul him down with them."

"You don't trust me," Obsidian said.

"Don't take it personally," she replied, her eyes glittering in the afternoon sunlight. "I don't trust anyone I don't really know. And all my senses are telling me there's more to this than there seems."

Likewise.

"Show them," Gemma said.

Obsidian slowly began unbuttoning his shirt.

"Is he—? Are you trying to stealallthe ladies in this room?" Byrnes joked, but he leaned forward curiously. "Ingrid, avert your eyes."

"It's not the first half-naked man I've ever seen," his wife retorted. "Besides, I'm enjoying the show."

"Me too. I think I'm going to swoon," Byrnes replied.

Stripping his shirt down his arm, Obsidian showed them what only Gemma had seen.

The scrawl of tattoos up Obsidian's forearm and biceps drew an almost soundless gasp from Lark.

"Are you trying to tell me you were once a sailor?" Byrnes asked.

"Not a sailor. No."

"Well, it's not as though you'd know," Byrnes said.

"I get horrendously seasick on a ship. Trust me. I've never been a sailor."

A firebird rising from the flames curled over his biceps. An ornate golden Orthodox cross painted the outside of his upper arm, with thorns curling around it. He'd had them for years, though he couldn't recall getting them.

He'd never truly given them a thought until he'd seen the same damned image displayed on the coat of arms in the file with his name upon it.

The Grigoriev coat of arms.

But it was the girl he couldn't take his eyes off.