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My hand is tight in his, I follow Aydan to the end of the hall, then down a set of stairs. Our steps are hurried but quiet against the carpeted floor. As we descend, Aydan slows his pace and straightens.
He reluctantly lets go of my hand. “Look normal.”
I do my best not to peer around like a hunted mouse and, instead, focus on the directional signs overhead. Luggage Claim, left. Rental Cars, right.
“The front is better guarded,” he whispers as we walk down. “And alarms will sound if you use any emergency exits—not that you’d be able to outrun them, anyway. You need wheels.” He presses a set of keys into my hand. “You’ll have to use one of the walkways to the parking deck. You can use the fob to find my car in the lower level.”
I’m shaking my head as I listen to his rushed words, my brain unable to process them due to my growing denial. From the instant we ran out of that office, I had imagined us leaving this place together. It’s illogical, I know. He’s here for an important reason, a mission James must have assigned to him. He can’t abandon everything because I stumbled into this. He’s already risking too much by helping me.
“There are a couple of guards by the walkway, but I can take care of them.” His dark eyes flash back and forth as we arrive at the bottom of the stairs.
We see no one.
“Guards make rounds, so let’s move. Not too fast. We don’t want to appear suspicious.” He takes a left and begins a leisurely walk down a wide, dimly illuminated corridor.
My heart thumps four times per every step we take.
“What are you doing here?” I ask.
“Ah, she still remembers how to speak,” Aydan says. “I was starting to wonder if you’d gone full-fledged, and your agent was afraid its craziness would give it away.”
I think back and realize I haven’t spoken a word. Aydan has never had the pleasure of meeting Azrael, but I had explained how nuts my agent is and how its speech pattern is nothing like mine. I had to warn him about it in case I’m ever eclipsed again.
He looks over at me. “Or maybe it was my awesome rescue that left you speechless.”
“So far this doesn’t qualify as a rescue. I’ll hold my judgment.” I could tell him it was relief that stole my voice, but it would lead to questions and the need to admit that I was afraid.
“You’re welcome.” He gives me a sideways glance and a raised eyebrow. I match his smirk and, just like that, things fall into place.
“So, what are you doing here?” I ask again.
He shrugs. “You should know. You invented this.”
“What?”
“You know . . . the Symbiot spy thing.”
“Huh, that’s news to me.”
“Well, it seems to work pretty well.” He slows down suddenly and cocks his head to one side, peering toward an intersecting hall.
Steps.
He looks all around. There are no doors, no big pieces of furniture, nowhere to hide. The few planters and benches would conceal nothing bigger than a cat.
Aydan grabs me by the waist and pushes me to the wall until my back is flush against it. He presses his body to mine and leans his head down. My eyes go wide and stare into his. His lips part and, for a moment, I think he’s going to kiss me, but he only gets close enough to hide my face from whoever just turned the corner.
“Get a room,” someone calls as they pass by.
Aydan’s warm breath brushes my lips. My heart thuds with the fear of being discovered and the fear of something I can’t define. My eyes fall to his lips. They tremble. His chest moves up and down. His normally pale cheeks are pinker. He moves a millimeter closer. The reflex to wet my lips assaults me, but I manage to repress it.
The idea of kissing Aydan had never entered my mind, but it has now. This closeness, the intensity in his eyes, the quivering of his lower lip are all too suggestive, too . . . self-explanatory not to plant the seed. And somehow, those things also help me realize that he has thought of it.
Aydan wants to kiss me.
My chest tightens with the strange realization.
Aydan wants to kiss me?!
Suddenly, the thought seems ludicrous. Aydan hated me just a couple of months ago. As a matter of fact, he couldn’t stand me, couldn’t be bothered to help me or say a decent thing to me. When James asked him to teach me to meditate, he acted like he’d been asked to babysit a wild hyena. When he was expected to work with me hacking the security system to Elliot’s fertility clinic, he thought I would be a hindrance and behaved as if my hacking skills were on par with a script kiddie, even though he already had proof of my abilities. And during the mission itself, he cut Xave’s communications to keep him in the dark and to, ultimately, aggravate me.
My out-of-control tallying stops.
Shit!
My mouth goes dry.
Aydan likes me. He has always liked me.
No. That’s just crazy. It’s all because of this messed up situation, this unexpected need to act like we’re . . . making out when all we’re trying to do is find a way out of here, a way to stay alive and defeat this evil.
But no matter how much I deny it, the knowledge sticks and, suddenly, I’m seeing all of his actions, all of his behaviors toward me, under a different light.
He never hated me. He never thought I was stupid or a waste of time. He never thought I was weak even when he called it to my face after Xave died and all I wanted was mind-numbing sedatives. When he asked me to prove that I was strong, he knew I wouldn’t be able to resist, knew the challenge would bring me back to the world of the living.
I remember how, using his powers, he scattered beautiful fireworks over the surface of Lake Union, and the way his glow enveloped me when he hugged me, relieved that I had survived the battle at Whitehouse headquarters.
Emotions war against each other in the middle of my chest. Inexplicably, a tear slides down the corner of my eye. There’s too much inside me trying to push its way out, and there’s no way I can hold on and no way I can let go—not when there’s so much of Xave I need to keep close, not when I’m unable to decide if caring for others is a blessing or a curse.
Aydan stops the lone tear’s descent by pressing the back of his forefinger to my cheek. He never breaks eye contact, and I’m surprised to discover how expressive black eyes can be, how much can be said without words.
“I know,” he says in a low, resigned whisper, then pulls me close and presses a soft kiss to my forehead.
We stand there for a long moment. I relish the contact in an almost primal way. The touch nearly convinces me that I’m not alone and don’t have to be. There’s someone who cares about me, someone who can selflessly set his own feelings aside with two simple words.
I know says he understands what I’m going through, how I feel. I know tells me he doesn’t care I’m still hung up on the past, on a love that could never be. I know shows me his feelings are what they are, even if mine are inaccessible, behind thick layers of guilt, what-ifs, and broken dreams.
He pulls away reluctantly. “Let’s get you out of here.”
We walk to the end of the hall without a word and stop before turning the corner. He presses a finger to his lips and peeks around the edge of the wall. I peer around him and see two armed guards flanking the walkway entrance.
A low hum fills my ears. The hairs on the back of my neck stand on end. Suddenly, the air crackles and a delicate slice of near-invisible lightning flies out of Aydan’s fingers and shoots straight toward one of the guards. The precise volt hits the man right between the eyes. He hovers for a moment, then goes limp and collapses to the floor, face first.
The second guard gives a startled yelp, runs to his companion and kneels next to him. He calls his name and pokes him. After a dumbfounded moment, he goes for the radio at his hip, but never reaches it. Instead, he falls forward and topples over the other guard. Their fallen bodies form an “X” on the floor.
So this is how he immobilized the other two guards without leaving any outward signs of injury.
“Your skills have improved,” I say, a bit of envy coloring my voice. This is how far I could be with my own skills if I learned to handle meditation on my own.
“You’ll get there. I’ve told you that with each meditation you grow leaps and bounds. Leaps and bounds, Marci.” Aydan steps from behind the wall and walks to the fallen guards. He takes their guns from their holsters, hands one to me and heads into the walkway at a clipped pace.
Just as we make it across, an ear-splitting alarm begins blaring.
“Shit! Someone took notice. My car’s that way,” he points toward the section marked with a letter C. “Go. I’ll make sure no one comes this way. Just drive, don’t stop. And if you have to run someone over, do it!”
He takes a step backward.
I catch his wrist and hold him back. “Come with me.” The irony of the request doesn’t escape me. He asked me to leave Whitehouse several times, and I went back every single time.
“You, better than anyone, know that I can’t.” His gaze is full of sadness and deep understanding. He knows exactly how it feels to let someone go, to allow them to head straight back into the beast’s jowls.
I release my hold of his wrist one finger at a time.
“Be careful,” he says, then turns away and runs back the way we came.
For just a moment, I watch his retreating figure. Something seems to shiver inside of me as he moves away. I struggle with the sensation for a moment, trying to decipher what it means, then snap out of it and turn in the direction Aydan indicated.
Gun pointed at the ground, I run out onto the parking deck and weave through a few lines of cars. I press the fob once and hear a short double beep over the din of the blaring alarm. I cut slightly to the left and quickly spot Aydan’s VW Jetta.
I’m almost to the car when a guttural sort of purr stops me short. I hold the gun up in the direction of the sound, but all I see are cars. I whirl, the gun making a semi-circle around me. I peer behind every car, behind every concrete column.
Nothing.
In spite of that, I still know I’m screwed.