Revelations
She didn’t make the door!
“Miss Perez!” The clarion call of Beatrix Engel’s voice rang out from behind her, full of unmasked delight.
Marcie felt her skin, from the base of her skull down to her tailbone, blaze with fire under the woman’s attention. There was no escape for her now. Turning, she saw the crowd parting around the tall woman. She flowed toward Marcie with long, graceful steps. The woman’s powerful stature was made taller by her heels, stealing Marcie’s familiar advantage of height.
“I hope you’re not leaving already,” Beatrix said when she reached her side at the coat check, extending her hands toward Marcie, palms up in greeting. “Won’t you accept my invitation and stay the night?”
That was a first. Both the way she took Marcie’s hands and the invitation. These were formalities for family. The woman met her gaze down the sharp, hawkish nose with the familiar intensity she knew from their business meetings. The context felt completely wrong. She wasn’t asking for details about legal standings and status on projects. Her intense smile softened when Marcie hesitated, interest sharpening her ice-blue eyes. The contrast to the cold glare her sister had given her was staggering.
“Shocked, Miss Perez?” Her voice brightened, but she didn’t quite laugh. Long fingers squeezed over Marcie’s and she turned her hands over, looking at her palms. She glanced at the birthmark on Marcie’s skin, her smile widening.
Marcie found herself blushing at the intense regard and was glad when the woman curled her fingers closed to hide the mark. The hourglass stain, dark bronze against her pale palm, always made her think of a black widow spider. Not at all as pretty as the wine-colored feather on Mano’s palm. “We’ve worked together for years, Mrs. Engel, and it has been my understanding that only family stays for the evening.”
“Please, call me Beatrix. We’re not in the office. It has not gone unnoticed that my nephew has shown a particular interest in you.” She released Marcie’s hands after a maternal squeeze.
The woman’s eyes gleamed as she hit the nerve she’d been fishing for and Marcie silently cursed herself for not keeping her emotions in check. “I don’t think your sister shares your interest in letting me get closer to her son.”
“Oh really? Why is that? You are well educated, have shown yourself capable in your job and you’re faithful to the company. You’re a Perez, yes?” The question was strung tightly with approval. Beatrix Engel, with her hall of lineage going back through time, would find Marcie’s own old bloodlines intriguing.
It reminded her of her grandfather and his intense desire that she marry and breed fine, healthy heirs with the son of his best friend, Juan Carlos. It would have been a powerful alliance. So many years had passed since that summer in Spain. But not long enough to rid her of the crawling dread. Certainly the offered son, Ramirez, had been everything a girl could want but even a pretty cage was still a prison.
“I’m sorry, what are you suggesting?” Marcie asked, already seeing the ambitious maneuvering.
Her mother’s voice whispered to her younger self in memory, You have your father’s strength, but my heart. Follow it. Do not be swayed by baubles and gowns. Be your own woman, not the woman who belongs to anyone for their gain.
Watching her mother’s loveless marriage was more than enough warning for Marcie.
“I won’t dance around. You and Mano make a striking couple. Why block your way? He was so enraptured by you. He won the necklace for you after all.”
Another of those gut-kick sensations burned through her stomach. The subtle curl of Beatrix’s lips indicated that she’d noticed the hit. That she’d intended it, expected it. The woman was much better at this game than Marcie.
Beatrix pursed her lips in a sweet smile. “I’m sorry! I seem to have wrecked the surprise.”
Horribly, she realized it was all a setup for her. The unusual and sudden seduction. The intensity of her feelings. This bauble dangled like ripe fruit for her. Over the woman’s shoulder, she could see her friends watching them. Four sets of worried eyes focused on her. Love. She wished she could take back that horrible word. Mano said he was wearing his mask. He’d tried to warn her.
“Mrs. Engel, I’m not interested in any relationship right now. I’m married to my career.” Her anger at the setup helped dull the pain. “I feel horrible that my friendliness was misread as something more than a diversion. I would be glad to pay the price for the piece myself so your nephew doesn’t feel obligated or compelled to continue his attentions.”
That was not what Beatrix Engel had expected. Her flicker of shock showed in a tightening around the corners of her eyes and the smile wasn’t quite as warm and satisfied as before. “I see. Of course I understand. It is our gain that you are so dedicated in your work. On a personal note, I’m sorry you’re not interested. I think you deserve something more in your personal life.” She reached out and offered Marcie’s arm a squeeze. “Don’t worry about the piece. It will remain safe with us.”
Strange that her boss was more supportive of her finding someone in her personal life than the people she cared for most. It’s just part of her bait, Marcie! she warned herself as she covered Beatrix’s hand and squeezed. “All things in their proper time. Right?”
Her friends had been right in trying to protect her. They’d tried to warn her away from someone completely unsuitable for her. Both her heart and stomach twisted within her.
“Of course. I will break the disappointing news to the boy gently. Have a most merry holiday, Marcie. We will see you the week after New Year’s to get back to work, hhmm?” Mrs. Engel, CEO of Adler Enterprises, let no emotion show through the professional smile. She turned and walked back to where her husband chatted with a group by the towering Christmas tree.
Marcie got her overcoat and hurried to the door.
Fate still wasn’t done with her though.
As she opened the door to run out into the night, she slammed into Mano coming in with his mother. It was a comedic full-body impact with the small man. He grinned up at her, keeping her from falling on her ass. Despite his size, he didn’t waver under the collision with her.
Juliette regarded her with a frosty gaze, but for some reason she held her tongue despite looking ready to unleash a load of insults.
Mano flashed a smug grin up at Marcie as he tried to slide his arms around her, but Marcie twisted away.
“Don’t fucking touch me.” She tried to capture his wrist to give him the same treatment Travis had received, but he was far too fast. He countered her grab with a stinging slap to the back of her hand.
He let her draw away, his mouth tightening into a steely line. Oh. That expression made the hairs on her arms prickle up with a spark of expected danger. “What happened, cherry pie?” Even his voice had a warning edge to it.
The pet name was so silly and unexpectedly endearing.
Love.
The lights in the room swam before her vision. “I’m not some fucking pawn!” she snarled.
“Fuck,” Juliette whispered under her breath. “Mano. Mano, please…let me talk to my—”
“I’m done,” Mano said as he turned to his mother. “I told you out there, if you were planning anything else, you or my auntie, I was out of here. How dare you. Did you learn absolutely nothing when Gun abandoned the family?”
He didn’t keep his voice down. In fact, he lifted it. Conversations in the room died as all eyes turned to witness this nugget of gossip and family drama.
Beatrix and her husband, the towering Maximilian, came to defuse the situation. The huge man still had a head of golden hair untouched by age. He was enormous. Close to seven feet if not over, with a thick neck and wide shoulders and chest. Despite his massive size, there was something jolly about his smile. As though he would enjoy a hearty brawl at his holiday party if it livened up the dull conversations his wife must be dragging him through.
Marcie had only seen him a few times. He rarely meddled in the company and let his wife handle the business while he did…well… Marcie wasn’t quite clear exactly what Maximilian did. Body building?
“What seems to be the problem?” His voice bore a thick German accent, and Marcie instantly remembered Ursa’s wide-eyed remark. Engel means angel in German.
“Excuse me, Mister Engel. I’m just leaving. Ran into your nephew and his mother on my way out,” Marcie said with a plastic smile. Whatever games were happening, she knew if she stayed, she would be right in the middle of their board. She was definitely skilled at power play, but she was not armed for this particular battle.
His brows drew together over sapphire eyes brighter than even Travis’s laser gaze. “Really? Did my wife not invite you to stay?”
“There was a misunderstanding about my intent,” Marcie forced herself to say. She took a step back, wanting badly to get out from under his gaze and into the cold night. She gripped her coat so tightly she thought she might rip it.
“Your intent?” Mano asked through his teeth, not quite opening his mouth as the words growled out. He was looking at his auntie though.
Beatrix stepped forward, her voice like silk. “Mano, I am sorry. I let it slip that you purchased the necklace for her. I think there was simply a misunderstand—”
“This is the thing you have not learned. You have no power over me. The only power you have is what I give you. I don’t need your inheritance.” He lifted his voice again and glared at his aunt.
Beatrix laughed softly. “Now, my sweet nephew, don’t I?” Looking amused, she cut that frozen gaze to Marcie as though reminding him that she held power over Marcie. She lowered her voice, pinning Mano with a look of unrestrained fury and growled, “I want to know where my son is. You are going to tell me, or I swear to god, I’m going to make things extremely difficult.”
Marcie’s career hung in the balance. But she’d been there before, a lifetime ago before she even knew the world or her own mettle. Her grandfather’s thorny hands on her arm, demanding she do his bidding and threatening that he would make her life unbearable. You have not known poverty. Do you really wish to risk that, girl?
Marcie felt her stomach falling now as she had then.
Mano didn’t let his mask slip. He didn’t flinch or turn away from his aunt as he held her gaze. “What makes you think it’s within my power to tell you where the golden boy is?”
“And what makes you think I’m going to stand for you ransoming me to hurt him?” Marcie asked. “You have a lot of nerve.” She stepped forward and reached for Mano’s hand.
Solidarity.
He didn’t turn his head but his fingers twined with hers, his expression unchanging. She could feel a radiant joy through the touch. No way would she leave him to these vultures.
“Beatrix, love, what are you doing?” Even Maximilian looked startled. “Our son made his choice long ago. If he wishes to crawl along the bottom, it’s his decision to make.”
“No!” Beatrix growled. “No! No! No! He is my son. He is an Adler, and so are you, Mano. Remember your duty to family.”
Mano took in a long, slow breath and then laughed heartily. “I haven’t been an Adler since Gun left. I am Ka’aukai. I am my father’s son. I know my duty to family. Do you?” He released Marcie’s hand and deftly unfastened the bowtie. With a smirk, he pulled open his shirt to display the tribal tattoos covering his hard body. Rather than the sort of ordinary flashy tattoos, these were intricate Polynesian designs. Even with the quick glance, Marcie knew there was meaning behind every drop of ink curving along his tight abs and broad chest.
Dear god! She wanted to lick pathways over each intricate curl and line.
“Mano!” Juliette warned in a hiss.
Mano ignored the gasps and titters in the room and glanced at Marcie, eyebrows arched up in question. You ready for this? He shrugged out of his jacket as his aunt and mother continued to warn him against the public display.
Absolutely! Marcie inclined her head just a little and smiled in answer to his wicked grin.
“Marcie. Be sensible. Think what you are giving up,” Beatrix warned, her voice vibrating with anger.
Those had been her grandfather’s words too. That was training for tonight. Mano pulled off his shirt, revealing all those fantastic tattoos spinning and coiling around his handsome, lithe body. Marcie whispered out in awe with the rest of the room witnessing his display. And then a pair of glorious wings fanned open from his shoulders, golden feathers throwing off diamond-like sparks of light as he shook them out.
Behind her, she heard Ursa’s startled squeak.
“No mask now, cherry pie.” He grinned at her and pulled her hand to his lips, standing before her bare chested and utterly gorgeous. A flicker of concern danced in his silvery eyes as he waited to see her response and reaction to his revelation.
“They are very nice tattoos,” she said, not quite believing she was seeing the eagle-like stretch of wings fanned out on either side of him. “You shouldn’t have to hide them.”
“Mano! How dare you turn this party into a carnival!” Beatrix’s voice sharpened. “Put your shirt back on this instant. Are you divorced of your senses and any thread of decorum?” She flashed a look at her sister. “What sort of animal did you raise?”
Mano ignored them all, grinning at Marcie. “Yes, because the tattoos are the problem.” He smirked at her. “Ah, I almost forgot.” He patted the jacket and fished something out from an inside pocket. It was a flat leather case he presented to her before opening the lid. Inside the black velvet, deep indigo shimmered like the sea trapped in the shadows. The necklace seemed to come to life as he lifted and held it toward her. “May I?”
“You can’t buy me,” she warned. The voices in the room died. At least, she no longer noticed them.
“You are not for sale,” he assured her. “Neither am I.”
She nodded, feeling her heart race when he fastened the necklace at the nape of her neck. His lips brushed her skin just under her ear. The necklace felt warm and oddly heavy on her bare shoulders. He spoke in a language she didn’t understand. She didn’t need a translation to understand the reverence and respect behind the words. When he drew back from her, he pressed his fist to his chest, his eyes bright with tears.
He held out his hand to her, palm up, showing off the birthmark curved into his skin like a red feather. As his other hand tossed the jacket and shirt over his winged shoulder he jerked his head toward the door. “You ready to go, pretty lady?”
Nodding, she looked around the crowd but the only person who seemed to notice the wings was Ursa. How could they not see? She slipped her hand into his, enjoying the thrill of his strength when he squeezed her fingers and pulled her in against him.
They stepped out into the night and when the cold curled around her, she began to question just what she was doing. What the hell was she thinking? They walked down the curving stairs and he slid his arm around her, his body tense and his wing curling around her.
“Are you going to fly me off to your nest?” she asked. Her voice quavered and she realized the shock was making her shiver more than the cold.
“It’s a little far. And too cold for you,” he whispered and slid his jacket over her shoulders. “Are you okay? I am so sorry about this. I really fucked this up.”
She wasn’t sure if she was all right or not, so she didn’t say anything. She motioned down the narrow street where her car was parked. “I’m in the Corvette there.”
“Nice car. A classic for a classy lady.” He squeezed her shoulders and looked up at her. “Come home with me?” He felt so warm against her, his bare chest almost thrumming with residual anger. “I can make this right.”
“I don’t know, Mano.” She reached up and uncertainly touched a feather of his wing. She expected it would melt from her touch and certify that she had gone crazy. The golden plumage felt real enough, speckled with brilliant white at the tips. “What are you? An angel?”
He cupped her face in his hands. “Of course I’m not an angel! It’s difficult to explain. I’m Kyrie, on my mother’s side.” His wing curved along her side as though he couldn’t believe she could feel it either.
“Valkyrie, you mean?” She watched his expression, enjoying how he smiled up at her in the moonlight.
“Well, no. Valkyrie are only women. Females alone have the ability, privilege and honor of guiding warriors to the afterlife. Men have no place in the hierarchy. ‘Wings on a man are like tits on a bull,’ my grandmother was fond of saying.”
“No way.” Marcie blinked. “My grandfather had sayings like that about women. ‘A woman’s only good to provide a healthy male heir for the line’.”
He lifted both eyebrows. “You witnessed what my family wants.”
“But your aunt wants her son,” Marcie said, frowning.
“So he can father a child off someone of her choice to have a female heir to take up the crown.”
She shivered as she stared at him in disbelief. “You’re serious about this whole guiding-warriors-to-the-afterlife thing?” she demanded. “You just flashed your wings to everyone in that room? Aren’t they going to say something?”
“No,” he said and smiled. “I can’t just show someone the wings. They have to be seen. Very, very few people see them unless they are touched by death or with the sight, or the bond.” He smirked at her and her look of hesitation. “It’s a lot to take in. And you’re just seeing the tip of the iceberg.”
“Ursa is going to lose her mind when I tell her. She has been so fixated on angels lately. I have no idea why, but she’s been throwing herself into all this research. I can tell her, right?”
“I suspect the little messenger saw them, and a lot more than you did.” He leaned in and kissed her softly. “There are so many secrets.”
“I’m good at keeping secrets, Mano,” Marcie assured and pressed in tightly against him. “I host parties every month where I keep the identities of my guests secret. I have for years.”
“These are more important confidences than who likes anal sex, Marcie,” he said, his voice deadly serious. “There are things you won’t be able to tell your friends. Not even the adorable messenger.”
“More than the fact that there are really beings that spirit the dead to the afterlife?” she asked with eyebrows lifting.
He nodded, silent for a moment, his dire expression making her shiver under the warmth of his jacket. “People have died for these secrets. People I love and care for.” Letting out his breath, he closed his eyes, tipping his head back. “I didn’t spend my life as a celibate to risk it all now.”
“You can trust Ursa and Leo. Travis and Vans too.”
He shook his head and jerked his thumb back toward the house. “Leo and Travis work for them. Never, ever forget that. What you tell Ursa, she will tell Leo. I’m sorry, Marcie, but that is just the facts.”
“You are saying I must choose between my friends or you?” she asked, feeling her lips turn down at the corners.
“No, cherry! I’m saying you don’t share what you see while you’re with me. So long as they are ensnared in Adler and its influence, they cannot be trusted.”
“I need to think about this.” Her head spun. It was so much to take in. “I have to think what I’m going to do moving forward. I just destroyed my career.” She stepped away from him. “What happened to your cousin, Mano?” she asked.
His expression didn’t flicker. It gave away none of his emotions. He shrugged. “He followed his heart,” he said flatly.
When she stepped away, he pulled his shirt on, tucking those impressive gold wings away under the thin fabric. It was as if they were an illusion all along. A dream she touched for only a heartbeat.
“The sun doesn’t rise and set on the Adler empire,” he said. “There are other opportunities out there. Better ones. My cousin taught me that.”
She didn’t want to leave him. She wanted to drag him into her car and kiss him until all her doubts splintered, but reality was that the Adler job had been her first and only. So many years she’d been under the indoctrination of those steel-and-iron values. Year after year she’d guzzled the company Kool-Aid and danced to its tune. “What are you going to do?” she asked.
He winked at her and tapped the corner of his eye. “What I’ve been doing my whole life. Watch. Wait.” He didn’t hold on to her or try to restrain her, but she could see the same longing she felt echoed in his gaze. “Take all the time you need. I didn’t mean to cause this trouble, but I must say I’m pleased you’re out from under her control.”
Marcie nodded and resisted the urge to leap back into his arms. She closed her eyes and turned to her sleek red Stingray and slipped into the cold seats, shivery, her spine itching. In the rearview mirror she saw him sauntering into the night, glancing back over his shoulder, waiting for her to drive away.
“Come on, Marcie. Time to go, woman.” Closing her eyes, she started the car and forced herself to drive away before either of their resolves broke.