Adrian Phoenix - In the Blood

“So are llygad s only nightkind or can they be mortal? Fallen?”

“ Llygaid, doll. The plural is llygaid . And only nightkind need apply.” Von’s gaze shifted to the sofa. “Someone’s awake now and pretending to be sleeping.”

Lyons slivered open one eye, then the other at Von’s comment. He scooted upright and rubbed his face. “Was there a shift in my breathing pattern that gave me away? Something different in my scent?” A smile curved his lips, warm and friendly and open.

Probably works like magic for him, Heather mused. Bet that smile gets perps and fellow agents alike to drop their guards .

“Ain’t telling.” Cold and sharp, Von’s voice was an icicle. He rose to his feet.

“I did a little research while you were snoozing,” Heather said. “I found your home address in Damascus and learned the property title belongs to Gloria Lyons.” Lyons’s smile dimmed. “Your mother.”

Lyons nodded, his intense sea-green eyes locked on her face.

“But I couldn’t find a thing about your father,” Heather continued, shifting her weight onto one hip. “Which is curious. But the thing that really fascinated me is your twin sister’s name—Athena Wells . Care to explain?”

“It’s complicated,” Lyons said.

“What’s complicated?” Dante said from behind Heather, his voice low and husky.

ALEX’S MOUTH DRIED. THE nomad’s hand clamped onto his shoulder.

Dante Baptiste stood in the archway leading into the hall, dog-collared, shirtless, and barefoot, his white fingers buckling his belt, his eyes gleaming in the twilight-darkened room. He shook his sleek black hair back from his pale face.

An orange cat wound between his legs. Dante dropped to one knee and stroked his hand along the purring cat’s back.

Alex’s heart hammered against his ribs as he struggled to resist the True Blood’s beauty-lust-nightwebbed spell.

As Heather swiveled to face Dante, he looked up at her and smiled—a tilted, intimate smile—and released Alex.

Given the look that Dante and Heather had just exchanged, Alex had no doubt they were lovers. He tried to focus on that, tried to figure how to use it against Dante. Hurt him with it. Hurt him deep. Alex drew in a long, deliberate breath, then another, as he willed his racing pulse to downshift a few gears.

Trigger him. Break him. Control him. Use him .

“ Another duct-taped Inferno fan?” Dante asked, nodding at Alex.

Heather blinked. “Another…?” The orange cat bunted its head against her leg, then wandered toward the kitchen.

“A story for another night,” Dante murmured. “So who are you?”

Alex met Dante’s dark eyes. He curved his lips into a smile. “Alexander Lyons,” he said. “But feel free to call me Alex.”

“He’s the agent who went with me to my mother’s murder site,” Heather said.

Dante stood and joined her in two graceful strides. His gaze turned inward for a second, then he refocused on Alex. “Von says Heather caught you spying outside. Says you know something about Bad Seed.”

Lovely thing, telepathy. Think I’ll keep mine secret for the time being . “True enough,” Alex said, resting his bound hands against his knees. “I have info for you, but I’d like to speak to you alone.”

“Nope. Anything you gotta say, you can say in front of Heather and Von.”

“Okay, then. Like I said, it’s complicated,” Alex said. “It involves my father.”

A wary expression crossed Dante’s face. “Who’s your dad?”

Comprehension sparked in Heather’s eyes, quickly followed by alarm. She grabbed Dante’s arm and stepped in front of him as if she could shield him from words. As if she could protect him from the truth—a truth he needed.

“Dr. Robert Wells,” Alex said.

Dante’s face blanked, then pain flickered in his eyes. “Give me that name again. Say it slow.”

“Robert—”

“No!” Heather interrupted. “Shut up, Lyons.” She turned to face Dante, her hand still on his arm, her voice urgent. “Look at me, Baptiste.”

It’d bothered Alex that she’d switched from calling him Alex to Lyons . Hell, he thought he’d even prefer sir to the cold and distant way she now used his last name.

And yet the way she said Baptiste was warm and intimate, a special naming.

Dante shifted his gaze to her. “Just like before, huh? The name I can’t hold.”

Can’t hold? A stark, cold realization burned holes through Alex’s assumptions like dry ice. His father had added a personal safeguard into Dante’s programming to prevent the True Blood from being used against him.

Heather nodded. “The very same.” She squeezed Dante’s arm, then her fingers slid away from him. She swiveled around and faced Alex again, her face cold. “Don’t say that name again.”

Alex nodded. “I didn’t know,” he said.

“What’s this all about?” Dante asked him.

“I have something you need.”

“Like I ain’t heard that before,” Dante snorted. “So what’s this thing I need?”

Alex looked at the iPod resting on the cushion at the other end of the sofa. Not the right time to trigger the young True Blood, too many people around to see, too many chances for interference. He’d prefer a more intimate gathering to test his father’s work, just him, Dante and Heather.

Glancing up at the nomad, Alex said, “Could you hand him the flash drive from my stuff there?”

The nomad— Von? —looked at Dante, and Dante nodded. Von picked up the small, plastic-encased flash drive and tossed it to him.

Dante caught it and turned it over in his hand. “What’s on it?”

“Your past,” Alex said. “Your mother. Your birth. All of your documented experiences with Bad Seed including your encounters with my father and Dr. Moore. Everything is on there.”

Heather drew in a sharp breath.

Dante stared at the drive. His body tensed, his muscles coiling beneath his white skin as if expecting a blow or getting ready to deliver one—maybe both. Emotions chased across his face too quickly for Alex to name.

But one thing he could name, one fascinating thing: pain stark upon that damned and beautiful face. Dante was hurting. As much as that realization buoyed him, Alex wondered why he was hurting—Dante shouldn’t feel or remember anything.

“Baptiste.” Heather’s voice was clear and strong. “Dante, I’m here.”

Dante drew in a shuddering breath, pulled his gaze away from the drive and looked up. Heather’s hand closed over his, her fingers interlacing through his, both sets of fingers folding the flash drive against his palm.

“J’su ici,” he said.

“Do you want to see what’s on there?”

“ Oui . I do, yeah. But not now.”

“I’ve seen what’s on there and you shouldn’t watch it alone,” Heather said. “I’ll be with you, if you want.”

Dante pressed the flash drive into her hand. “I want. You hold it for me then, chérie . When the time comes we’ll watch it together.”

“Together.” Heather stretched up and kissed his lips.

For a moment, Alex felt a twinge of regret. Wished he could keep Heather out of what was to come. Wished she’d been strong enough to resist Dante in the first place.