Destined (War of the Covens 2)

Caia looked nervously at her hands. Coming to the Center was a mistake. Marion may have some kind of mother-figure faith in her, but Marita was going to expose her for the fraud she was afraid she was. Feeling traces of good Midnights? Was she crazy?

“Hey, you’re gonna blow her away,” he reassured gently, his voice sending a soothing hand down her back. “You’re more than a match for her.”

She smiled, hoping her feelings weren’t so obvious in her eyes. “Thank you. But believe it or not, I didn’t interrupt your rest for a confidence boost. I’m not quite that selfish … yet.” She chuckled nervously, sucking in some dust and then spluttering and coughing.

Oh goddess, she was the queen of un-cool.

“Caia.” Lucien sounded like he was choking on laughter as he moved beside her, patting her on the back more roughly than necessary.

“I’m okay.” She held up a hand, eyes watering more from his help than the coughing.

“Can I get you some water?”

“No,” she croaked. Then she looked up at him and realized how close he was, the heat from his body stroking her skin, his silver eyes curious and concerned, inches away from her. “I came to apologize.”

A wrinkle appeared between his brows. “Apologize?”

She took in a shuddering breath, her eyes falling to her hands again. “I never apologized for what … for what my mother did to you … to your father … to your family …”

“Cy—”

“No, let me say this. She did all those horrible things, and when I found out the truth, the first thing you said was that you were sorry. You didn’t have to do that. She deserved what she got. But I never apologized properly. More than that, I never thanked you for supporting me without question. I am part Midnight and you refused to judge me for that. Thank you.”

“Caia!” Lucien grabbed her chin, jerking her eyes up to meet his own. He looked angry and sad … and frustrated. “You have nothing to apologize for. You. Are. Not. Your mother.”

A tear slid down her cheek, and he caught it with his thumb, rubbing the salty liquid into her skin.

“Do you really believe that?”

His eyes widened in disbelief. “Of course. Caia …”

“I’m scared, Lucien,” she whispered.

He gruffly pulled her into his arms and she sighed, inhaling him, clinging to him like a liferaft.

“You’re not her. They will see that. You have to know that.”

Thoughts of those Midnight traces she’d been feeling trickled toward her tongue. She needed to tell someone. Maybe Lucien would understand. Maybe it was a mistake. Maybe …

“There’s something I—”

Tap tap tap.

Lucien groaned. “Sorry, that’ll be room service.”

Caia pulled back, grinning tremulously. “You ordered food already?”

He grinned wolfishly back. “Of course. We haven’t eaten in—”

“Three hours.”

He laughed and got up to open the door. “Bring it on in, thank you.” He stood aside as a guy in a waiter’s uniform pushed a trolley of food into the room. The guy nodded and left quickly.

“You’re unbelievable.” Caia chuckled, watching him lift dish after dish to inhale the aromas. Her own stomach ached in protest.

“Hey.” He grinned again, almost licking his lips. “Thought I’d cash in on your powerful pull with these people and get me a proper meal before prep work tomorrow. I’ll need all the sustenance I can get if we’re gonna kick some evil Midnight ass.”

Caia’s face fell. Well, there went that window.

“You wanna join?”

“Uh, no.” She shook her head and made for the door. “I’m tired.”

“Okay. Hey.” He frowned. “Didn’t you have something to tell me?”

She locked on to his concerned gaze and wished she’d told him. But her previous instinct had been right. Hating Midnights was too ingrained in a Daylight to make what she had to say understandable.

And Marita was right. She needed all the allies she could get.

“No, not really. Night.”

“Night.”

“You’re late,” he reproached, watching beneath his lidded eyes as the large man walked sedately into the room.

“I had a few issues to deal with before coming here,” the distinguished magik said in his heavy accent before brushing off a chair and easing into it. He straightened the lapels on his long wool coat before crossing one leg over the other in a gesture that was at once elegant and masculine.

“I have people to get back to. I don’t have the luxury of your abilities, remember.”

“Be quick with your news, then, by all means.”

“My contact tells me you have a problem, Nikolai.”

Nikolai chuckled, lifting his hands in a gesture of disbelief. “I would really like to know how you … have contacts within my coven.”

“I’m very old, Nikolai. I have had many years to garner enough knowledge with which to blackmail people.”

“Of course.”

“My contact told me your problem goes by the name Pierre du Bois.”

Nikolai stiffened. “What is du Bois up to now?”

“You know him?”