After I Break Immortal Billionaires 2 1st

Edition Melissa Sercia

Visit to download the full and correct content document:
https://ebookmeta.com/product/after-i-break-immortal-billionaires-2-1st-edition-meliss
a-sercia/
More products digital (pdf, epub, mobi) instant
download maybe you interests ...

Immortal Billionaires 3 After I Run 1st Edition Melissa

Sercia

https://ebookmeta.com/product/immortal-billionaires-3-after-i-
run-1st-edition-melissa-sercia/

The Man I Once Hated Grumpy Billionaires 2 1st Edition

Lauren Wood

https://ebookmeta.com/product/the-man-i-once-hated-grumpy-
billionaires-2-1st-edition-lauren-wood/

The Merger Alpha Billionaires 2 1st Edition B.L.

Brooks

https://ebookmeta.com/product/the-merger-alpha-
billionaires-2-1st-edition-b-l-brooks/

After Yesterday The After 2 1st Edition Jacqueline

Hayley

https://ebookmeta.com/product/after-yesterday-the-after-2-1st-
edition-jacqueline-hayley/
I m the Great Immortal Hero s Love Interest 1 1st
Edition K Klein

https://ebookmeta.com/product/i-m-the-great-immortal-hero-s-love-
interest-1-1st-edition-k-klein/

The I Do Do Over After I Do 1st Edition Poppy Parkes

https://ebookmeta.com/product/the-i-do-do-over-after-i-do-1st-
edition-poppy-parkes/

Mediocre After I Do 1st Edition Bf Queen

https://ebookmeta.com/product/mediocre-after-i-do-1st-edition-bf-
queen/

The Broken Mirror A Never After Story Melissa De La

Cruz

https://ebookmeta.com/product/the-broken-mirror-a-never-after-
story-melissa-de-la-cruz/

First Blush After I Do 1st Edition Reina Torres

https://ebookmeta.com/product/first-blush-after-i-do-1st-edition-
reina-torres/
 This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are
products of the author’s imagination or used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual
events or locales, or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental and not
intended by the author.

AFTER I BREAK
Immortal Billionaires, Book 2

Melissa Sercia
www.melissasercia.com

All Rights reserved. Except as permitted under the U.S. Copyright Act of 1976, no
part of this publication may be reproduced, distributed, or transmitted in any form
or by any means, or stored in a database or retrieval system, without prior
consent and permission of the publisher.

Copyright © 2021 by Melissa Sercia

Cover Design by Sarah Paige. All stock photos licensed appropriately.

Edited by Katie Golding
Formatted by Champagne Book Design

For information on subsidiary rights, please contact the publisher at

melissaserciawrites@gmail.com
Digital Edition ISBN: 978-1-7358512-2-8
Printed in the United States of America
TABLE OF CONTENTS

Title Page
Copyright
Books by Melissa Sercia
Dedication
One
Two
Three
Four
Five
Six
Seven
Eight
Nine
Ten
Eleven
Twelve
Thirteen
Fourteen
Fifteen
Sixteen
Seventeen
Eighteen
Nineteen
Twenty
Twenty-One
 Twenty-Two
Twenty-Three
Twenty-Four
Twenty-Five
Acknowledgements
About the Author
 Urban Fantasy

Blood and Magic (Blood and Darkness Book 1)

Flesh and Bone (Blood and Darkness Book 2)
Gods and Demons (Blood and Darkness Book 3)

Smoke and Ritual (Beautiful Dark Beasts Book 1)

Spark and Ember ( Beautiful Dark Beasts Book 2)

Paranormal Romance

After I Fall (Immortal Billionaires Book 1)

After I Break (Immortal Billionaires Book 2)
After I Run (Immortal Billionaires Book 3)
 For my editor, Katie Golding
This book literally wouldn’t have been possible without you.
Thank you
The jet lights reflected off the rain-soaked tarmac, blinding me.
Through the fog, his muscular figure was barely visible. A silhouette
next to the black stretch limousine. The click of my heels on the
pavement echoed my heartbeat—quick and heavy. As I got closer,
glimpsing his face, I shuddered. With tattoos climbing all the way up
his neck, and thick brown hair slicked off his forehead, he glared
back at me with eyes the color of steel.
Neither one of us wanted to be there.
“Well, if it isn’t Lux Roman in the flesh. I’m surprised the rain
hasn’t turned you to stone yet,” I said.
He flexed his jaw. “Piper Rose. Charming as usual.”
To everyone else, I was a ray of sunshine. “Let’s just get this
over with.”
“After you.” He stretched out his hand toward the private jet,
revealing more tattoos peeking out of the cuff of his white buttoned
up shirt.
I shimmied up the steps in a gray pencil skirt, pink cashmere
sweater, and black stiletto pumps. The wind picked up toward the
top of the airstair, blowing my icy blond strands into my face along
with Lux’s scent—a blend of spice, leather, and vanilla. I inhaled a
sharp breath and tried not to think about how seductive it was.
After kindly accepting a flute of champagne from the pretty flight
attendant, I sank into the farthest seat I could find. I’d been
dreading this trip for weeks. Now here I was, about to be stuck on a
four-hour flight from New York to Cuba with one of the richest and
most obnoxious men I’d ever met.
Lux Roman was one of the best artifact hunters in the world and
he knew it. He was also an incubus—a demon who fed off sexual
energy. As long as I kept telling myself he repulsed me, I couldn’t be
manipulated by his charms. I couldn’t stand being in the same room
with him, let alone on the same private jet. Demon or not, he was
just like all the rest—arrogant, self-righteous, and full of shit.
Don’t get me wrong, he was sexy as hell. Most women would sell
their souls to be in my shoes right now. But that was the problem.
He could actually take it. I doubted Lux even had a soul. My days of
falling prey to gorgeous men who made promises they couldn’t keep
were over.
The only silver lining was this job. If I hadn’t had my heart
shattered into pieces all those years ago, I might not have found my
way to Sticks and Stones. I loved this job and I was good at it. So as
much as I could barely stomach everything that Lux represented, my
company insisted we needed him to find this artifact. I was still
trying to prove myself so I had no choice but to agree.
Lux followed suit and kept his distance, choosing a seat closer to
the front of the jet. Unfortunately, it was still facing me. I averted
my gaze to the window.
“Are you going to avoid looking at me the whole trip, Piper?”
I drew in a sharp breath. “Only if I can help it.”
He chuckled, his voice raspy and melodic at the same time. “I
don’t like working with a partner either, especially one as
inexperienced as yourself, but your company hired me. Just keep up,
don’t question me, and we’ll get along fine.”
I almost choked on my champagne. “Excuse me? I don’t know
what types of women you’re used to working with, but I’m not one
to let a man boss me around. I don’t work for you and I’m the best
artifact hunter Sticks and Stones has so maybe you should try to
keep up.” Asshole.
Lux’s smile faded and he glared at me with those steel-gray eyes.
“Don’t piss me off, Piper. I’m not one of your human boy toys that
you can walk all over. You know what I am.”
A tiny shiver crept up my back. I had to remind myself that I was
trapped on a plane with a demon. No matter how much he looked
like a human man, he wasn’t. I didn’t think he would hurt me, but
that feral look in his eyes made me want to bite my tongue. Lux was
wound so tight, he could suck all of the oxygen out of this cabin if
he wanted to.
I tilted my head back and rested my eyes closed, wishing I were
anywhere but here. I let my mind wander back to a time when I was
truly happy—that first day I stepped foot in New York City with a
thousand dreams and an open heart. When the world was full of
wonder and possibility. When love was something I thought I could
actually have.
“You do know what I am, don’t you?” Lux asked, breaking me
out of my reverie and reminding me how nothing good lasts forever.
I met his gaze. “Unfortunately. One of the downfalls of the job,” I
retorted.
“Knowing my world exists is a privilege, one that most humans
aren’t privy to.” He pulled a small glass vial from his breast pocket
and took a swig of the clear liquid it held.
“It’s a burden.” I sighed and wondered what he was drinking.
Though I wouldn’t give him the satisfaction of asking, lest he think I
was actually interested in anything about him.
Lux released a deep breath as he drank, his lips quivering. “You
have no idea what a true burden is, princess.”
While I’m sure immortality came with its drawbacks, he wasn’t
going to convince me that his troubles were greater than mine.
Humans were fragile, unprotected. We could break at any time. Lux,
on the other hand, was invincible. Powerful.
“You wouldn’t happen to have another vial of something that
makes you stop talking, would you?”
 He licked his lips, curling them into a smirk, and nestled back
against his seat. “You know what would make me stop talking? Your
mouth—”
“Don’t…finish that sentence. This is a business trip.” If he was
trying to get a rise out of me, it was working.
Lux’s face hardened. “Relax. I don’t want to be here anymore
than you do.”
That was the Lux I remembered. Cold, vile, and insulting. Sex
was his lifeblood, the thing that gave him power—and incubi never
discriminated against who they got that from—but the first time I
met him, he couldn’t have been more repulsed by me. At the time, I
was insulted, but now I was grateful that his sights weren’t set on
me. I’d had enough manipulation for three lifetimes. All I wanted to
do now was get this trip over with, retrieve the artifact and get a fat
pay raise. Those were my priorities. I couldn’t take getting passed
over for a promotion again.
The life of an artifact hunter was a lonely one but it came with a
long list of sources that would envy the likes of any spy movie. Part
of being good at it was knowing who you could trust and contact for
information. Sticks and Stones had led me to Harley Ryan. She was
the best computer hacker in the country and was my primary source
for tracking magical artifacts. Her latest tip involving a shipwreck
was what led us to Cuba. Lux had his own computer genius, a
werewolf named Cassius. Between the two of them, this should be
the easiest find of my career. But that was betting on the fact that
Lux was actually sharing everything he knew with me.
Lux drummed his fingers against the armrest. His knee bobbed
up and down. I was no expert on demons but he seemed to look
unhinged. Like he needed to feed. “When was the last time you had
sex?” I asked.
“You offering?” He narrowed his eyes at me.
I snorted. “Don’t flatter yourself. I just need to know if you are
going to lose your shit before we even land. I don’t know how any of
this works.”
“It’s really none of your business, Piper. But don’t worry, I’m a
sex demon, not a sex monster. I have methods to keep myself
fulfilled.” The bitterness in his voice was hard to miss.
I was starting to guess it had something to do with that vial.
Maybe it was some kind of demon drug? “What kind of methods?” I
shouldn’t have been prying but my curiosity was getting the better
of me.
Lux sat forward, fixating his gaze on me with laser focus. “Let’s
get something straight. We aren’t friends. This trip isn’t going to
bond us together and end with us sipping wine by the fire while we
confide our deepest darkest secrets to each other. So cut the bullshit
questions. We have a job to do. I will tell you what you need to
know, nothing more.”
My stomach knotted. He was truly an asshole. “Fine by me. I
don’t really care anyway.”
Lux snickered and shook his head. “Keep telling yourself that,
princess.”
My cheeks burned. “What is your problem with me?”
“I don’t have one. That would require me actually giving a shit
one way or another. And I don’t.” He took another shaky sip of his
mystery liquid and pinched his eyes shut. A gesture that seemed to
say that he was done talking about it.
So I dropped it. Besides, I was tired of being the target of his
insults.
I pulled the blanket up to my neck and peered out the window.
The sky was dark and full of stars. Up here, you could see
everything clearly. The city lights were always a distraction from
what nature provided. But tonight, the sky reminded me of my
hometown of Maplewood—still, clear, and bright.
I shivered. The cabin was as cold as Lux’s eyes. Soulless and
empty. As if reading my mind, he strolled over and plopped himself
in the seat closest to me.
“We need to discuss some ground rules. I have important
contacts that I don’t want you embarrassing me in front of. So I will
do the talking and you will observe. You might learn a thing or two.”
He swirled a freshly poured glass of whiskey, smirking as he was
clearly satisfied with himself.
 “Is it possible for you to not be condescending for one minute?
I’m on this jet for a reason and can handle myself just fine without
your help. If anything, I’m more pleasant to be around than you are.
Maybe your contacts would prefer to deal with me.” Lux was riding
my last nerve.
“I see your ego is almost as big as mine so I’ll give you the
benefit of the doubt, but you screw up even one time and I’ll tape
your mouth shut for the rest of the trip. Got it?”
Fucking asshole. I wanted to slap him in the face. “I’ll do my best
not to chew through it.”
Something playful flickered in his eyes. A hint of mischief mixed
with the stirrings of desire but it was gone as quickly as it came.
“Oh, and another thing, we’re checking into the hotel as a married
couple. So one room. But don’t worry, I’ll make it comfortable for
you on the floor.”
One room? This had to be a joke. “You can’t be serious. We don’t
need to pretend we are married. Friends travel together all the time
and get separate rooms. Give me one believable reason why I can’t
have my own room?” I was fuming.
“I’ll give you two. I have a lot of enemies who are expecting me
to surface. We’ll blend in better as a couple. And second, we aren’t
the only ones after the artifact. I can’t be worrying about you being
all by yourself. It’s a distraction.”
As much as I hated it, he was right. Although, I couldn’t help but
be offended that my safety was only important to him because it
could jeopardize his focus. “Fine. But you are sleeping on the floor.
Not me.”
Lux shrugged. “We’ll see about that.”
I shook my head, cursing under my breath. I better get a huge
pay increase for this shit.
He was quiet for a long time while he stared at me. Like he was
dissecting every inch of my face. I held my breath, unsure of what
would fly out of his mouth next. Another insult probably.
After what seemed like forever, he chuckled.
“What’s so funny?” I snapped, suddenly self-conscious.
 “Look at us. Do you honestly think anyone would believe we’re
traveling friends? Two attractive people who argue like an old
married couple. Hmm?”
So he did find me attractive. I looked him up and down, letting
my gaze linger over every inch of his body. Every thread in his
expensive suit. Followed every inch of ink that poked out of his collar
and cuffs, ink that swirled over his skin like a masterpiece of art. I
noticed the muscle lines enhanced by his shirt, the dominant vein in
his neck that throbbed every time he clenched his jaw. He was
gorgeous. And I hated him more because of it.
“You’re right, Lux. No one would ever believe we are friends
because we aren’t. And we never will be.” Did someone turn on the
heat? The back of my neck was damp with sweat and my cheeks felt
flushed and tingly.
Lux slid the tip of his tongue across his thick lower lip. It was
sexy as fuck. “I completely agree.”
“Good.” I turned my body toward the window. I could remember
a simpler time. Before I knew these immortals existed. Back when I
was a young girl from Maplewood, trying to make a name for myself
in the big city. All I wanted to do was be the world’s best historian,
fall in love, and travel the world. As I glanced out the window of this
million-dollar jet, I knew I’d gotten one of those things right. But
love and history were better off staying where they were meant to
be…in the past.
Thankfully, the rest of the trip was quiet until the pilot’s voice
came through the overhead speaker telling us to put on our
seatbelts and prepare for landing. I peered out again and sucked in
a breath. The glimpse of flickering city lights was mesmerizing.
I’d been all over the United States and most of Europe, but never
to Cuba. As the jet descended, the full landscape edged into view
and a tingling excitement rippled through me. The sparkling lights,
the colorful buildings…it was magical.
Lux watched me. “First time here, I take it?”
I nodded, not wanting to make pleasantries with him.
“Get ready to be seduced, princess,” Lux snickered.
“Excuse me?” His arrogance was nauseating.
 He stood and leaned over me, hovering his lips above my ear. His
breath was hot on my neck. “Seduced by a city that will make its
way into your bones and never let go. Its pulse will rush through
your blood and steal a tiny piece of your soul.”
My heart fluttered as the jet wheels touched down on the
tarmac. Lux gripped the front of my chair to steady himself, towering
over me as he did so. Not that he needed much to keep him upright.
Another perk of being immortal and supernatural.
I could still feel the warmth from his breath on my neck. Still
hear the hunger and rasp in his voice as he spoke of this enchanting
city. I looked up to see him grinning back at me as if he knew
exactly what I was thinking.
I looked away as we barreled down the runway like a speeding
train before coming to a lurching stop. I jerked forward in my seat
and our faces almost collided. I caught another whiff of his scent—
smoke and musk and vanilla. The scent of an incubus. Everything
about him was designed to intoxicate his prey. To lure in the object
of his desire with the promise of insane pleasure and ecstasy. That
was what an incubus did.
I swallowed hard, trying not to get swept up in it. “You can let go
of my seat now.”
Lux hesitated for a moment but then inched back, his gray eyes
hardening.
The pilot’s voice blared through the speakers like a knife cutting
the tension. “Welcome to Havana.”
The look on Piper’s face as we hovered over Havana was priceless.
It reminded me of the first time I’d laid eyes on it. The air was warm
and fragrant with a magical element that I hadn’t felt anywhere else.
She strutted ahead of me toward the white town car that was
waiting to take us to the hotel. As I slid in next to her, our knees
accidentally brushed. Piper’s breath quickened. She jerked away and
crammed herself against the car door. The cracks in her façade were
starting to show.
I watched her for a moment. She was stunning. Beautiful. Her
creamy white skin was flawless, her lips thick and luscious. I could
imagine for a second what they might look like wrapped around my
cock, chuckling to myself as I thought about how satisfying it would
be to toy with her. To tease her with pleasure unlike any she’s ever
known, only to snatch it away from her. To punish her by not letting
her climax. The exquisite torture would be worth sacrificing the feed.
I had the power to make women cum as quickly or as long as I
wanted them to. I could control how long the orgasm lasted and I
relished that. I bet Piper liked to be in control. She’s probably never
had a man make her moan the way I could.
It was almost comical. Ironic actually. On the outside, we were
two people most likely to sleep together, and yet, we couldn’t be
farther apart. The difference between me and Piper was that I
needed sex to feed. To literally function. Piper bounced from man to
man simply because she couldn’t be bothered with real feelings and
intimacy.
I didn’t know her well but we did run in the same social circles. I
remember watching her work the room at the Antiquities Gala a few
weeks ago. She flirted, batted her eyelashes, and let men buy her
drinks. Yet she never allowed anyone to get too close. When she set
her sights on me, her charm faded and she dropped the act. I think
she knew I could see right through her.
Besides, her reputation was widely known—beautiful, incredibly
smart, and a heartbreaker. Some people called her the ice princess.
Not that there was anything wrong with a woman who sought out
carnal pleasure. Men had been doing it since the beginning of time.
But the way she went about it bothered me. Like she was entitled to
it and had no regard for who she might hurt in the process. I knew
someone else like her once. And I vowed to never get mixed up with
that type of woman again.
My phone buzzed and lit up. I had four missed calls from Cassius.
It wasn’t like him to blow my phone up. Cassius was my business
partner and one of my best friends. He was also a werewolf who
carried the weight of everyone’s problems on his shoulders. He,
myself, and Ozi—a vampire—were the Sons of the Fallen, an
organization we created to trade and deal in black market goods.
Particularly the dangerous and magical kind. We were as thick as
thieves, the three of us. They were the only two immortals that I
was loyal to. The only ones I trusted. But Cassius would have to wait
until I had a bit more privacy.
I ignored my phone and Piper for the rest of the drive. Twenty
minutes later, we pulled up to the front of the hotel and the tension
could not have been higher. Taking in the tropical décor and balmy
breezes, I wondered what it might be like to be here with someone
whose company I actually enjoyed. But I didn’t come here for that. I
had to protect the artifact. It held secrets that could destroy us all if
it fell into the wrong hands. Ozi and Cassius were counting on me to
keep it safe and so I would not let this sexy and infuriating woman
distract me from that.
Piper bounced out of the car and sprinted toward the lobby,
leaving me on the curb with her luggage. So pretentious. I hope she
didn’t think I was going to be her personal butler for the next few
weeks. I’d be a gentleman, but I wasn’t going to be her bitch.
I caught up with her at the front desk just as she was trying to
explain to the clerk why we needed separate rooms.
“What do you mean you don’t have any other options? Can’t you
just click a few buttons and make it happen? Money is no object.
He’s loaded.” Piper waved a hand in my direction.
“Sorry, but the best I can do is the adjoining suite,” the clerk
replied. “We are almost fully booked this weekend.”
Piper huffed but I interjected so the clerk didn’t reach across the
desk and strangle her. “That will be fine. Thank you.” I tugged
Piper’s arm as I whispered in her ear, “Remember what I said about
pissing me off? Don’t do it.”
She lurched back, pursing her lips. “Don’t touch me.”
I grabbed the room keys and charged toward the elevators.
“Let’s go, princess.”
Piper followed, stomping her heels so that the entire lobby could
hear her click across the marble floors. Fuck, she was so dramatic.
The second the elevator doors closed, she spun on me. “Are you
always such a controlling dick, or just when you’re around a woman
you feel threatened by?”
Oh, she was something else. “I’m an immortal demon. I don’t
feel threatened by anyone.”
The vein in her neck throbbed all the way down to the tiny black
heart tattooed on her collarbone. If that wasn’t apropos for her
personality, I didn’t know what was.
“Don’t belittle me in public like that ever again.” She shifted her
gaze upward, fixating on the blinking lights that highlighted the floor
numbers.
 “Only in private from now on then,” I teased, unable to stop the
smug smirk from pulling at my lips.
Her cheeks reddened. “Fuck you, Lux.”
I shoved my hands into my pockets to keep from bending her
over and spanking her. “You’re not my type.” Truth was, she was
exactly my type. Even more reason for me to keep this relationship
as professional as possible.
The doors slid open with a ding and she barreled out, paused,
spun around to rip her key out of my hand, and stalked to her room.
I entered my room just in time to hear her slam the connecting
door and twist the deadbolt. “Be ready for dinner in two hours,
sunshine,” I called out, chuckling to myself. Getting under her skin
was so easy and a lot of fun.
I pulled out my phone to read the messages from Cassius.
Something about our joint account getting hacked and Ozi fucking
some chick who happens to be Piper’s new roommate. I shot a quick
text back.
Keep me posted. And put surveillance on Piper’s apartment. It might all be
connected.
What were the odds that Ozi and I would be mixed up with
women who knew each other? The account thing was alarming but I
trusted Cassius to handle it. I had only one concern right now—to
find out who else was after the Codex. I had a lot of enemies but
there were only a few possibilities that crossed my mind. And I had
to know for sure. I couldn’t defend against shadows.
I poured myself a snifter of rum from the wet bar and sank into a
chair facing the window. Gazing out at the clear blue sky and
emerald green ocean, I let my mind wander. I had come so far.
Battled my way out of hell—literally—built an empire and managed
to avoid human emotion for centuries. It wasn’t as hard as it
seemed. I wasn’t one of them and never had been. Ozi and Cassius
were mortals once but I was born this way. Born from her.
I shuddered at the memory of her glowing eyes. Flinched as I
recalled her dragging her claws down my back, the excruciating pain
as the fiery chains tightened around my wrists… I gulped down the
rest of my drink in one swig and shut it out. It was a long time ago.
There was no point in getting lost in those thoughts anymore.
I glanced around at my lavish suite and smiled. This made up for
all of it—the luxury that I could afford ten times over. I could buy
anything I wanted. Anything. That made me powerful. My
immortality made me deadly and untouchable. There was nothing
else that mattered… Except for the artifact, the Codex. I couldn’t
ever let it fall into the wrong hands. My existence, Ozi and Cassius’s
existence, depended on it.
Piper was only going to complicate things. There were things she
didn’t understand. Couldn’t understand. She was human. Smart,
cunning, capable, but still human. The Codex was so much more
than she could ever comprehend. It attracted enemies. Brought
death and destruction. It belonged to me and my brothers—the Sons
of the Fallen. I had no choice but to keep her in the dark. I would
not allow her employer to have the Codex. No one even knew who
her employer really was. Not even Piper.
I was looking forward to a couple hours of peace and quiet when
the pipes groaned, followed by the sound of rushing water. Lavender
steam trickled through the crack under our adjoining door. I closed
my eyes and tried to think of something else. To think of anything
other than her creamy white thighs spreading apart as she lowered
herself into the foamy bathwater. Tried not to imagine her taut
nipples swaying through the bubbles as she rubbed them clean.
Fuck. Too late. My dick was as hard as the door separating our
rooms.
I went into my bathroom, turned on the shower, and stripped off
my clothes. She was just on the other side of the wall. I leaned
against its cool tiles, hoping to expunge the heat from my skin.
Begging myself to stop imagining the soft folds of her wet pussy
opening up like a flower around my fingers. I clasped my dick and
stroked up and down. I needed to feed.
“Fuck.” I staggered back as the blood rushed to the tip of my
cock. The sweet sound of her humming echoed through the door.
The water lapped around her, splashing against her skin. I could
hear it as clear as if I were standing over her. Damn supernatural
hearing. I rubbed harder, biting my lip to stifle a moan. You don’t
want her, Lux. You don’t want her. You’re just hungry.
I swung around and grabbed the wall to steady myself. My
essence rose, rushing, tingling every nerve all the way down to my
toes. I rested my sweltering forehead against the tile. The water
shot down my back, tickling and teasing my every desire as I
imagined thrusting into her. Filling her, consuming her…breaking her
inhibitions. I pinched the tip between my thumb and forefinger,
smacking my free hand against the shower wall as my cum
squeezed out in hot ropes. “Yes…fuck yes,” I murmured.
My chest heaved. I panted, still holding my dick in my hands.
Why did I crave her body so much? Was it the fact that she couldn’t
stand me? That my charms didn’t work on her? I rummaged through
my bag and found what I was looking for. The elixir. I popped the
cap off and drank it down till every drop was gone, releasing a deep
breath as I hunched over. When I couldn’t fuck, this liquid was the
only thing that kept me from slipping into a supernatural coma. Bless
that witch for making it for me.
I threw my clothes on and scrambled to get out. I needed to go
for a walk to clear my head and let the elixir work its magic. I
paused at the door before leaving, breathing in another gulp of
Piper’s lavender-scented bath steam and my lips trembled. My fists
clenched. Lux, stop. Get a hold of yourself. I shook my head and
left. The farther away I got from our rooms, the farther Piper would
be from my mind.

The walk and the fresh air did wonders but it was the elixir that kept
me from losing control. By the time I got back, I was more focused
and alert. My senses sharper. And as I entered my suite, I could no
longer smell the lavender, or feel the need to envision Piper’s naked
body. The craving had passed. As it always did. But that was a little
too close for comfort this time. I’d have to be more careful in the
future.
I checked my watch and saw that it was almost time to meet my
contact. Hopefully, he’d stick to the plan and not over embellish.
Piper was not an idiot. I needed him to make it believable. I sent
him a quick text just to make sure.
You remember everything I told you to say? Don’t disclose what the Codex
really is.
I was lying to him too, of course. I went to great lengths to
organize that shipwreck. To plant the rumor about an ancient book
being on board. A couple of minutes went by before he finally
responded.
You have my word. I’m at your service, always.
Good. Now I just had to figure out how much longer I could keep
lying to Piper as well. I didn’t owe her anything but she was sharp
and it was only a matter of time before she’d get suspicious. And
she was too smart to be charmed by an incubus. Not when she used
sex as a weapon herself. As soon as I found out who else was after
the Codex, then I could be rid of her and the lies wouldn’t matter.
If I were a man, Lux would never have talked to me the way he did
when we were checking in to the rooms. Treating me like I was the
one with an attitude? I just wanted my personal space and sharing a
door with that asshole was not helping. Ugh, he was infuriating.
Saying it was for my own safety was bullshit. All billionaires had
enemies but who in their right mind would actually come after an
immortal incubus? He was just being controlling for the sake of it.
Because he knew I couldn’t stand him.
If my job weren’t on the line, I would have booked a flight home
in a heartbeat, but I needed this win. I’d spent the last five years
picking up scraps for Sticks and Stones. Yes, they paid me extremely
well, but I wanted more than just money. I wanted respect,
accolades, and to show them that I was the best artifact hunter in
the world.
Over the years, it was my cunning and quick thinking that led to
countless discoveries. It was the connections I’d built that enabled
my employers to get their hands on some of the most sought-after
treasures. I didn’t understand why they insisted on me working with
Lux. He had money and connections, but so did I. I don’t need him.
It was time to freshen up. We were meeting one of Lux’s
contacts, which I’m sure he couldn’t wait to rub in my face, and I
needed to look my best. I applied a fresh coat of red lipstick,
changed from my pencil skirt to a tight black lace dress, and tucked
a dagger into my garter belt. If this life had taught me anything, it
was to always be prepared.
I was a year into my employment when I learned that the
immortal world existed. I was shocked at first, but I’d gotten used to
it. I’ve had drinks with vampires, negotiated with werewolves, and
played poker with demons. But it was always for the job. I knew
better than to ever get mixed up intimately with their kind. I couldn’t
let my guard down. Despite my combat training, I was still human
and sex exposed too many vulnerabilities. Besides, there were plenty
of mortal men to have that kind of fun with. They were easier to
ghost when I was over it. If a vampire decided he wanted to keep
you, then you were screwed. And I preferred to be alone.
I gave myself one final glance in the mirror. I looked nothing like
I used to—no longer the farm girl with braces and hand-me-downs.
Yet there were still some things that money just couldn’t satisfy. I
took a deep breath and rattled off a quick message to Raven—my
new roommate and fellow Maplewood. When I’d heard someone
from my hometown was moving to the city and that she needed a
place to stay, I was hesitant at first. No one knew what I did for a
living. Not technically. My friends and family thought I was a
historian, which I kind of was, but they didn’t know I was traipsing
all over the globe tracking black market artifacts.
But Raven was a sweet girl who kept to herself, didn’t ask any
questions, and had her own shit to deal with. Aside from the fact
that it was nice to have someone looking out for my place, I also
wanted to give her the help that I never got when I first moved to
New York City. It almost swallowed me whole into its dark abyss.
There wasn’t a single trace of my real life in that apartment so it
wasn’t like she could even fathom who I really was. It was all for
show. The fancy art and expensive furniture helped paint the façade
I’d worked so hard to create all these years. I’d been lying for so
long, I couldn’t remember what it meant to tell the truth. The lies
dripped out of my mouth like honey and no one was ever the wiser.
“You almost ready, princess?” Lux’s condescending voice called
out through the door.
I pinched my eyes shut and took a deep breath. “Coming,” I
called back.
The door opened and I almost smacked right into him. Our eyes
locked in defiance.
“You’re lurking now? Great. That’s not creepy at all.”
He looked me up and down, his gaze traveling over every one of
my curves. “You’re late. I said two hours. It’s fifteen minutes past.”
If this was how the whole trip was going to be, I might end up
strangling him. Not that it would actually do him any harm, but it
would make me feel better. “I had to text my roommate. Don’t want
her thinking I disappeared and start to ask questions, you know?”
Lux curled his lips, inching closer. “You need to learn to do what
you’re told.”
I wanted to slap him and smash my lips against his at the same
time. My heart raced. The way he looked at me, feral, like we were
animals doing a mating dance. It was all I could do to dislodge the
lump in my throat. He licked his lips. I couldn’t tear myself away. I
couldn’t move. A tiny voice called out in my head. Remember, Piper.
I counted back from ten, imagining a white light between us, and
exhaled slowly. And within seconds, the feeling of being locked in
place dissipated. “I don’t take orders from you. I never will.”
His expression hardened, a look of suspicion flickering through.
“Enough. In the future, be on time. It’s a simple professional
courtesy.”
There was nothing professional about his demeanor. His playful
charm was gone and he was back to despising me. Good. His tricks
were hard to resist but this wasn’t my first time fending off mind
games from an incubus. Lux, however, was more powerful than the
rest so I needed to stay on guard.
We walked in step to the elevator, the tension mounting with
every click of my heels on the hotel’s marbled hallway floors. I
hoped his contact was solid. The sooner we found the artifact, the
sooner I could rid myself of Lux and his arrogance.
The doors opened and a light breeze blew against my cheeks.
The perfumed night air danced around the open lobby, tickling my
skin like a feather. It carried scents of sugarcane, baked honey, and
freshly brewed espresso. The mixture pulled at my senses, seductive
and enticing, tempting me to drown in it. To fall into its embrace. I
drank in the night, the lights, the French vanilla-soaked tobacco
smoke. My eyes danced around beautiful people, golden skin, the
curve of breasts and hips swaying to the sound of Spanish guitars. It
was intoxicating. It was Havana.
Lux laced his fingers through mine and my breath caught in my
throat. I tried to jerk my hand away but he pulled it back, flashing a
smile at the pretty brunette waitress as he did. “We have a part to
play, Piper,” he whispered. “Otherwise, we just look like cops.”
“But we’re not cops,” I whisper-yelled back.
“No, but we look like we are. It won’t kill you to hold my hand for
one night.”
It might.
I didn’t like the fact that his hand was strong and smooth and
felt good in mine. I hadn’t had sex in about a month so even a light
breeze could arouse me these days. At least that’s what I told
myself. It had nothing to do with him. He was an asshole who just
happened to have good hands.
A distinguished-looking man in a white linen suit signaled for us
to join him. He had dark hair, tanned skin, dark eyes, and a tiny scar
over his right eyebrow. As we approached his table, he stood and
pulled out my chair.
“Cristobal, hope we didn’t keep you waiting too long,” Lux said,
his gaze landing on me as if to imply it was my fault. It was but he
didn’t need to point it out.
The man’s eyes sparkled, unfazed. “Not a problem. I took the
liberty to order us a round of mojitos. You simply cannot come to
Havana without having one.”
I offered him my hand. “Pleasure to meet you.”
 Cristobal brought my hand to his lips and gave it a light peck.
“You must be the infamous Piper Rose. I have heard a lot about you.
Your reputation is well known.”
“All good things, I hope.” I smirked as I stole a glance at Lux.
Someone paying me a compliment, especially his contact, was sure
to annoy him. His smile remained intact and he gave no indication
that he was bothered by the praise. Yet as he motioned for us to sit,
I spotted a slight twitch in his upper lip. I guess he was as good at
telling lies as I was.
The table was set back away from the crowded patio, a private
table of sorts. The way Cristobal spoke casually with the staff, sitting
relaxed in his chair, it was clear that he was a regular and they bent
over backward to ensure our privacy.
After the server brought our mojitos—a cocktail of rum, sugar,
lime juice, and muddled mint leaves—Lux didn’t waste any time
jumping in. “What do you have for me, Cris?” Lux leaned in and
looked around, confirming that no one was watching or attempting
to eavesdrop on us.
Cristobal nodded. “A shipwreck was indeed discovered by some
local fishermen. Many artifacts were discovered to be on board.
Including a rumor of an old book. I’m not sure if this is the Codex
you are seeking but it fits the description. However, when the load
was transferred to the Historical Society, there was no book to be
found.”
A twinge of dread shot through me. “Are you sure there wasn’t a
book there? Could someone else have taken it?”
Cristobal and Lux exchanged a look. He shrugged and took a
slow calculated sip of his drink. “I’m certain. I trust my sources.”
Lux sighed. “I told you, Piper, we aren’t the only ones after the
Codex. We need to get ahead of this. Find out who exactly is
following our trail.”
I nodded, agreeing with Lux for the first time ever. “Cristobal,
any chance the Historical Society would talk to us? Maybe they can
tell us if anyone was sniffing around the excavation site.”
“Of course. I’ll phone my contact and let her know you are
coming by tomorrow.” He rested his elbows on the table and I
couldn’t help but notice a subtle tremor in his hands.
There was something off about him. He was charming,
handsome, and perfectly polite, but he was hiding something. I
could feel it in my bones.
Lux took a cigar out of his breast pocket and leaned over the
table as Cristobal lit it for him. “Well done, Cris. You’ll be thoroughly
compensated per usual.”
Cristobal grinned wide, like a child who had just earned a gold
star. “Always a pleasure doing business with you. Piper, I hope we
meet again. But something tells me that Lux may want to keep you
all to himself.” He winked.
My cheeks flushed, warm and tingly. “Oh, no, it’s not like that.
This is just a business thing.”
Lux sucked a long drag from his cigar, blowing out smoke rings,
seemingly oblivious to the insinuation. If he was bothered or turned
on or angry, it was hard to tell. That demon had one of the best
poker faces I’d ever seen. He was impossible to read.
Cristobal chuckled. “Business and pleasure are hard to discern
sometimes. Especially with someone as beautiful as yourself. Well, I
must be going. Until we meet again.” Cristobal scurried off,
disappearing into the sea of bodies that covered the dancefloor.
I downed the rest of my drink, licking the sugar cane off my lips.
“He was nice. Although he was completely off base about you and
me—”
“He wanted to drink your blood.” Lux cut me off curtly.
I nearly choked on the rum still swirling around my mouth.
“Excuse me?”
“Don’t be fooled by his charm. Cristobal is a vampire. He’d slash
your throat and drink from it in a second if it suited him. Another
reason why we have to keep up this ruse. He wouldn’t dare touch
something that belonged to me.”
So I was a piece of property now? The thought of belonging to
Lux or anyone like him made my blood curdle. “You’re pretty
impressed with yourself, aren’t you? Acting like you’re some kind of
protector or savior. I can handle myself, thanks.”
 Lux reached over and brushed a fallen strand out of my eyes.
“You’re just pissed off that you didn’t know. Don’t be so hard on
yourself. Cristobal has been blending in as a human for centuries. He
has all kinds of tricks up his sleeve.”
I shuddered. “So do you, it seems.”
Lux explored my eyes, hungrily. “Did you know what I was the
first time you saw me?” he asked, his voice low and raspy.
I shifted in my chair, suddenly aware of how close we were
sitting. “Not exactly… I knew you were immortal, but it took me a
few hours to figure out which kind.”
“What gave me away?” he drawled, dragging an ice cube across
his lips before popping it into his mouth. He sucked on it, flipping it
around his tongue.
I fidgeted with my napkin, avoiding eye contact. “It was the
women… the way they practically ate out of the palm of your hand,
hanging off your every word. Vampires can have that effect too, but
this was different. I could see them almost writhing in your
presence. Like they were in heat or under some sort of spell.”
Lux draped an arm across the back of my chair. His scent
surrounded me, sweet and smoky. It was all I could do to resist it.
“Very good, Piper. You’re a clever woman. Did you enjoy watching
me?”
I was burning up. He grazed my spine with the tip of his finger,
tracing small circles between my shoulder blades. I swallowed hard.
“I wasn’t watching you. I was observing. I like to know exactly who
I’m getting into business with.”
His fingers inched farther up, landing on the back of my neck.
“And what about who you get into bed with? Do you make it a point
to know about them too?”
The tiny space between us was charged with electricity. A
chemical reaction to the pheromones we exuded. The rest of the
people on the patio seemed to be far away, a blur. He was doing it
again. Pulling me in. I took a deep breath and rubbed my eyes.
“Just stop, Lux. You’re going to have to find someone else to fuck
tonight. I’m not falling for your tricks.”
 He wouldn’t let up. “Who said anything about fucking? I’m just
curious as to how long you’ve been admiring me.”
The arrogance that oozed out of his every pore was astounding.
Yes, he was hot. He was downright beautiful with his chiseled jaw
and steel-gray eyes framed by long dark lashes. His lips were full
and begging to be sucked on, but he was also an asshole with an
ego the size of Manhattan. There was no way I would sleep with
him. “Don’t flatter yourself. I was doing my research on you. Nothing
more.”
Lux smiled but it didn’t reach his eyes, that feral hunger
returning. He watched me as if he were an addict and I was
suddenly his drug of choice. But I could have been anyone. He was
starving for sex and I was right there in front of him, dripping wet.
While my mind and my tongue defied him, my body betrayed
me. He could smell the desire on me. This I knew from my
experience with his kind.
“Dance with me.” He jumped to his feet, pulling me up with him.
I couldn’t take my eyes off him. I tried, but I couldn’t. “Lux…
what are you doing? We have more important things to do.”
He wound his arms around my waist and brought me closer to
him. “Tomorrow we have things to do. Tonight…well, we need to
keep up the ruse. We don’t know who might be watching.”
Did he have a point? Yes. Was I buying any of his bullshit? No.
But I’d do anything to break this trance. “If I dance with you, will
you stop treating me like prey?”
A flicker of mischief flashed through his gray eyes. “All right, I
promise. I’ll even let you lead. I know how much you like control.”
I rolled my eyes and yanked his hand toward the dance floor. I
could hear him chuckling over the music, satisfied with himself. Our
bodies curved into each other like two puzzle pieces. He guided my
arms up and around his neck, dragging his fingers down to rest on
my hips.
It had been years since I danced with anyone. But this was
different. The music was sexy—Latin music always was. There was
no air between us, no space between our bodies as we swayed. He
inserted his leg between mine as I shimmied around him. I was
getting swept away in the moment. The music. The humidity leaving
my skin damp and glistening.
“You’re good at this,” Lux whispered in my ear right before he
twirled me out and back to his chest.
I fell into step, remembering the salsa lessons I had taken when
I’d first moved to the city. I was in one of those try anything phases
at that time. I took dance lessons, fell in love with Thai food, and
went skydiving among other things.
“Thanks,” I mumbled. “You’ve got some rhythm, I guess.” Um,
yeah he had more than rhythm. He was like a walking sex-machine.
I forced myself to not imagine how else his body could move.
“Oh, you have no idea, princess.” Lux swung me around again so
that he was behind me. He slipped his arm around my waist and
held me tight to his chest. We grinded against each other. I could
feel his cock through his pants, stiffening against my ass. I tilted my
head back, resting it on his shoulder as he leaned in. His breath was
hot and erratic on my neck. I almost came right there.
We needed to stop. I was horny as fuck but I had to remind
myself that Lux was just toying with me. This is what he did. He
fucked with people so he could fuck them. A witch told me once that
an incubus could steal a tiny part of your soul. It was probably
bullshit but I wasn’t willing to find out.
I flipped around just as the song ended and the opening notes of
a new one began. I nudged him back. “We should head back to our
rooms.”
Lux feigned surprise. “Piper Rose, are you propositioning me?”
I groaned. “You know that’s not what I meant. I’m tired and we
have to get up early to meet the contact at the Historical Society.” I
was wide awake but if I let him rub up against me any longer, I was
going to rip his clothes off on this dance floor.
Lux stiffened, his smile fading. “Fine with me.”
We headed back up in silence. It was unnerving. He had this
switch where he could shut off emotion without warning. I never
knew when it was going to happen. It was like taking a cold shower,
which to be honest, I probably needed one.
 He paused at his door. “Goodnight, Piper. Sweet dreams.” Lux’s
gaze took hold of mine again and I could feel his essence trying to
pull at the edges of my sanity.
“See you in the morning,” I squeaked out.
After double-checking that the adjoining door to our rooms was
locked and bolted, I collapsed on the bed. I wouldn’t put it past him
to barge in unannounced. There was something clawing at the back
of my mind. Something he wasn’t telling me. Like his attempt at
seducing me was just a distraction. But from what? Less than twelve
hours ago, he couldn’t stand me. Now he was all over me.
Something wasn’t right.
And that’s when it hit me. Lux was dangerous. Sexy as hell, but
not to be trusted. So how was I supposed to get any sleep when my
mind was playing ping pong back and forth between tearing his
clothes off and calling him out on his games?
The scent of her wet pussy clung to me. What the fuck was wrong
with me? There was nothing I wanted from her. I was just hungry. I
hadn’t gotten laid since we left New York and I didn’t intend to
indulge anytime soon. Piper was an unwelcome distraction. Another
pretty face with amazing tits and an ass that I would break with my
bare hands. But beyond the fact that she was also incredibly smart, I
loathed what she stood for and wanted nothing to do with her
intimately.
The way she thought she was better than me, it made me sick.
She was the first woman I’d ever met who acted as if being an
immortal billionaire was worse than a serial killer. She knew she
couldn’t control me and it drove her crazy. So why was I so drawn to
her? Why did I give a shit? I guess I was still a glutton for
punishment. It wouldn’t be the first time I let a woman get under
my skin.
I popped off the cap and drank the entire vial of my special
liquid. Otherwise, I’d have a hard-on all night. Just knowing there
was only one thin wall separating us was burden enough. I craved
sex like a vampire craved blood. And like a vampire, when I got a
whiff of something I wanted to taste, it was next to impossible to
turn it off. No matter how toxic the object was. I was a hunter.
I sank down in a chair and let the elixir work its magic. Within
minutes, the cravings began to subside. I sent a quick text to
Cristobal, thanking him again for playing along. For the most part I
didn’t lie to Piper. There really was a shipwreck and Cristobal really
was a vampire who would drink her blood in a heartbeat if I weren’t
standing in his way. But what I couldn’t tell Piper was I knew for a
fact that the real Codex was never on that boat. She’d ask too many
questions. And I wasn’t ready to answer them. What I was more
concerned with was if anyone else took the bait. I had to know who
we were up against. It was the only way I could protect the Codex.
I couldn’t help but stare at the connecting door. With just one
twist of my arm, I could pull it clear off the hinges. I could march in
there and call her out on her shit. Piper was playing a game too. If
the centuries had taught me anything, it was how to read women.
The hunger in her eyes when she looked at me was obvious. The
way her body shivered, giving her goose pimples on her flesh
whenever we stood close… Despite our disdain for each other, there
was something between us. Something chemical. She had no idea
how powerful I was. But I knew it was better not to explore that.
Lust fades and when it did, we’d be back to being two people who
couldn’t stand each other.
Pacing around the room was doing nothing for me. The sky was
beginning to change color from black to light blue to pink and gold. I
had been up all night and was more agitated than ever. A hot
shower and a clean suit were what I needed.
The scalding hot water soothed my skin. I tried not to remember
what it felt like to touch myself with the scent of Piper’s lavender
bathwater wafting into my room. The pleasure it brought me was so
intense, I had almost punched through the tile. I pinched my eyes
shut and tried to think of something else. Anything else. The way
the shower reminded me of the sound of rain. Focus, Lux. Get your
shit together.
 My custom three-piece Italian suit fit me like a second skin and
the color matched my eyes, gray and stormy. I fastened the
diamond cuff links and gave myself another once over in the mirror.
A swirl of tattoos peeked out of my collar. Where most women saw
them and thought they were sexy, all I saw were hidden scars.
Marks of Lilith that no matter how hard I tried to cover up, I knew
would always be there.
The ink made me look like less of a monster and more like a bad
boy. I guess in the rest of the world’s eyes, I was. The only
difference between me and every other douchebag out there was
that I didn’t have a choice. But just because it was all I knew, it
didn’t mean that I didn’t sometimes wish I could be something else.
Someone else.
Fuck. Stop wallowing, it’s pathetic.
I paused at the door to listen for Piper. To see if she had stirred.
But her room was quiet, which meant she was sound asleep. I
needed to go to the Historical Society alone. If I hurried, I could get
there and back before Piper even woke up. Knowing her, she’ll be
pissed at me either way.

The Historical Society was a short ride from the hotel. The curator,
Gabriella, greeted me at the door. “I’ve been expecting you, Mr.
Roman. Cristobal phoned me last night.”
“Please, call me Lux.” I kissed the top of her hand and she drew
in a sharp breath. I knew the effect my lips had on women, and
damn straight I was going to use them to get what I wanted.
“Of course,” she cooed. “How can I be of help to you today?” Her
brown eyes glazed as if she were drunk. I was used to women
looking at me that way. As if they were in some sort of trance.
“I was wondering if you could tell me if there was anyone
inquiring about an old book? There was a rumor that a sacred text
might have been on board the shipwreck.” A rumor I started. The list
of my enemies was long so maybe she could help me narrow it
down.
Gabriella smiled. “Funny you should ask. There was one man
inquiring. He was tall with dark hair and brown eyes. There was
something about him that made me feel uneasy. The way he looked
at me…like I was a meal.”
Vampire. “Go on. Did he give you his name or mention where he
was staying?”
She shook her head. “I’m afraid not. He said it was urgent he
find this book, but he wouldn’t tell me what it was or why. After
about thirty minutes of me insisting that I had no idea what he was
talking about, he finally left. There was a darkness surrounding him.
He was so angry.”
I gently squeezed her shoulder. “I’m sorry you had to deal with
that. But you’re safe now. I guarantee you he will not return.”
“What is so special about this book, Mr. Lux?”
Her formality was endearing. She was too polished and good at
her job to refer to me in a casual way. “It’s just very expensive.
That’s all. You know how these greedy jerks are. It’s always about
money.”
I flashed her a grin and winked. The less people who knew about
what the Codex could do, the better. It wasn’t like humans would
believe it anyway. Only the immortals and those few humans who
were aware of our existence would take any interest in this artifact.
It wouldn’t mean anything to anyone else. Not to mention that they
wouldn’t even be able to read it. The Codex was written entirely in
Akkadian, a dead language that dated back to ancient Mesopotamia.
I crawled out of hell shortly after that time period and knew enough
to translate, but even I still had issues deciphering it. To a human, it
would just look like gibberish.
Gabriella smiled and nodded, her brown curls bouncing as she
did. In her line of work, secrecy came with the territory. While she
may not have believed me, she knew better than to ask too many
questions. Contacts like her were a rare breed. I knew I could count
on Cristobal to come through with a good one.
 “Shall I give you a tour while you’re here? A man such as
yourself must appreciate history.” Gabriella batted her eyelashes.
I glanced at my watch. Piper would soon discover I was gone,
but what was the harm in indulging this attractive woman for a few
more minutes? It was the least I could do. She clearly wanted to
continue ogling me. “Just a quick one. I must get going soon.”
She clapped in delight and then took my arm. The physical
contact should have sent my pulse racing. It should have triggered
my hunter’s instinct. But it didn’t. I guess the elixir was still lingering
in my system.
Gabriella guided me through the museum, giving me a brief
description of each find. Then to the bookstore, a peek into the café,
and finally back to the reception area where we started. Feeling
generous, I pulled out my checkbook and scribbled out a bunch of
zeros without even really paying attention.
Her eyes widened and she beamed. “Thank you, Mr. Lux. This is
so kind of you.”
“It’s nothing really. I appreciate your help today.” Money flowed
in and out of my bank accounts like water. With all the different pots
we had our hands in, I couldn’t go broke if I tried. Information was
the most valuable commodity in the world. A currency in itself. And I
would gladly pay any price for it.
But what I really just bought from Gabriella was her silence. “You
will keep this between us, yes?”
She nodded. “Most certainly.”
I smiled and patted her hand. “Good. Because in about twenty
minutes or so, a very irate woman is going to storm in here and
demand to know what we discussed. For her own safety, I prefer we
don’t tell her everything.”
Gabriella blushed, seemingly excited that she now shared a
secret with me. “My lips are sealed, Mr. Lux.”
There was no way I was going to make it back to the hotel in
time before Piper woke up. She was no doubt already moving
around and cursing my name. And I couldn’t risk missing her on the
way and thereby giving her an opportunity to interrogate Gabriella
without me here.
 So I settled in and braced myself for the shitstorm that was
about to blow my way.
Piper

My room was unusually quiet. I was surprised Lux wasn’t banging

down my door yet. I’d heard him pacing around late last night.
Maybe he was still sleeping? The clock next to my bed displayed 8
AM. Early for me, but not for a demon who made a habit of staying
ahead of everyone. He should be up by now.
“Lux,” I called out through our adjoining door. “You alive in
there?” I snorted at my own joke. No response.
That’s strange.
I hesitated for a moment, my hand hovering over the doorknob.
Against my better judgment, I turned the knob and it opened.
His room was spotless. No clothes were strewn about like I had
all over mine. There was nothing on the nightstand except a bottle
of whiskey and an empty glass. And no sign of Lux.
“Shit.” Maybe he went downstairs to get some coffee or
breakfast? While incubi didn’t need food or drink to survive, I knew
they still partook from time to time for the taste. They did it to look
normal as well. Other than him being a womanizing immortal and
the best artifact hunter in the world, I knew little about him. Nothing
about his habits or patterns.
 I tried his cell but it went straight to voicemail. “Dammit, Lux.
Where are you?”
If this asshole had left without me, I was going to lose it.
The front desk clerk picked up after three rings. “Miss Rose, how
can I assist you today?”
I twirled the phone cord around my fingers, imagining what it
would feel like to strangle Lux with it. “Do I have any messages?”
“Let me check…no, I’m not seeing anything for you, Miss Rose.”
I unwrapped the cord from around my knuckles and hung up the
receiver without another word. That piece of shit. He left without
me. This was exactly why I didn’t want to work with him to begin
with.
Well, if he thought I was going to sit by the pool and sip mojitos,
he was about to be sorely mistaken. I took a deep breath and dialed
the front desk again. “Please have a taxi out front for me in twenty
minutes. I need to get to the Historical Society.”
After the quickest shower I’ve ever taken in my life, I spritzed on
some perfume, and tucked a dagger into the back pocket of my gray
slacks. I double-checked the taser was still in my purse and bolted
for the door.
As I stomped toward the elevator full of rage, imagining all the
mean things I was going to say to Lux, I couldn’t help but notice two
men lingering at the end of the hall. My stomach flipped. They
moved in my direction, watching me intently.
Afraid they would pick up their pace if I acted alarmed, I inched
forward until I reached the elevator. Heart pounding, I hit the lobby
button repeatedly until the doors closed and I started descending
down. I leaned back against the elevator and willed my breath to
steady. It was probably nothing but my gut told me something was
off about those men.
I transferred the knife from my pocket to the inside of my bra,
tied my hair back into a low ponytail, and waited. As soon as the
doors opened, I bounced out and hit the lobby floor with my chin up
and my eyes peeled. Without even turning my head, I noticed two
more men near the front desk, their gazes fixated on me. Shit. The
most important lesson I’d learned from my combat trainer was to
always be aware of my surroundings. Currently, I was very aware
that I was being stalked. This artifact was important, but if we were
being followed over it… Something told me that Lux was leaving out
some pertinent shit.
I sprinted to my taxi, confirmed the address, and glanced back
through the rear window. Sure enough, the two men from the lobby
were jumping into a car as well. I handed the driver a hundred-
dollar bill. “Step on it. Please.”

I threw the driver another hundred and made a dash to the

Historical Society’s entrance. I flung the door open and spun around
to peek out the window. My heart sank. I was definitely followed.
The two men from the hotel were parked across the street in a black
sedan.
I was going to wring Lux’s neck. Not only had he left me behind
to gather intel without me, but he’d also left me vulnerable to
whoever else was trying to get their hands on the artifact. I scanned
the room and spotted him standing mere inches away from a pretty
brunette clad in a tight skirt and ruffled blouse. I stormed over.
“Enjoying yourself? I can’t believe you—”
“Piper”—Lux cut me off—“so glad you could make it. This is the
museum curator, Gabriella.”
My hands trembled as I contemplated slapping him.
“Your girlfriend?” Gabriella asked, her eyebrows raised.
“No,” Lux and I blurted out in unison.
I stepped in between them. “We need to have a little chat. Now.”
Lux and I locked eyes and the tension mounted. The energy
between us was palpable, mixed with contempt and something like
fire. While I was sweating like a racehorse at the Kentucky Derby,
Lux seemed as cool and collected as he’d ever been. Like he was out
having brunch with an old friend.
 “Excuse us a moment, Gabriella.” He flashed her a nauseating
grin and ushered me over to the corner. “What’s so urgent, Piper?”
“You’ve got to be kidding. Is this a game to you? We’re supposed
to be working together. Supposed to come here together. Instead,
you completely disregard me and have shown me zero respect by
leaving me behind.”
Lux sighed and pinched the bridge of his nose. “Don’t you think
you’re being a bit over dramatic?”
Was he for real? “Over dramatic would have been assuming I
was being followed until I realized I actually was. I could probably
handle two men, but it would have been nice to have back up and
—”
“Wait. What? Who followed you?” His eyes darted toward the
window. He gripped my elbow and pulled me in close.
I caught a whiff of his scent and lost my train of thought for a
second. “Um, I don’t know. Two guys in a black sedan. They are
parked outside right now.”
“Shit,” Lux muttered.
I snapped out of my daze and yanked my arm away from him.
“Don’t worry, I’m fine. Not that you care.”
Lux towered over me, lowering his head so our noses were
almost touching. “Piper…I won’t let anything happen to you. You are
mine—my partner I mean. You know what I mean. I shouldn’t have
left without you. I didn’t think.”
My breath lodged in my throat. Butterflies swarmed my belly.
“Lux, this is my job. I can’t do it if you keep shutting me out. My
career is on the line.”
His breath was warm but unsteady on my face. “I understand. It
won’t happen again.”
Pretty sure that was the closest I was going to get to an apology
from him. And the way he was looking at me was confusing. One
minute he couldn’t stand me and the next he was acting possessive
and protective.
“Did you find out anything or were you too busy flirting with
Gabriella?” I straightened my back and broke eye contact.
 Lux chuckled. “Flirting is how I find things out, princess. It’s part
of my charm. But I’m flattered by your jealousy.”
My cheeks burned as I glared at him. “I am not jealous. And stop
calling me princess. It’s not what I am and it’s unprofessional.” Hold
it together, Piper.
“Whatever you say…Miss Rose.” He laughed to himself as he
rejoined Gabriella.
There was an ease between them that I envied. He was just
using her for information and even though it was a façade, it was a
side to him that he did possess. A kinder more gentlemanly side. I
guess that was only reserved for other people.
“You didn’t answer my question. What do we know about the
artifact? Was it on board? Was anyone else asking about it?” I wasn’t
letting him off the hook.
Lux shrugged while Gabriella stared at me blankly. “Not much to
tell. The shipwreck’s a dead end.”
A sharp pain stabbed at my head and I could feel a stress
headache coming on. “Great,” I muttered. “Why are we even in
Havana?” I had come all the way to Cuba on a false tip for a coveted
artifact I knew nothing about. I was really on a roll this time. This
hunt was different from the rest. And I had a feeling Lux had
everything to do with it.
Lux thanked Gabriella, ignoring my question, and nudged me
toward the door. “We are here because my sources suggested that
the Codex might be here. They were either wrong or it was stolen.”
“I thought you were the best. You’re telling me Lux Roman got a
bad lead? Wow.” I snickered and spun on my heel toward the door.
Lux caught my arm and pulled me back to face him. “I could say
the same thing about you, princess. Your source confirmed the
shipwreck as well so don’t act like this is all my fault.”
My heart was beating so fast I could feel it in my throat. “Touché.
Now will you kindly let go of my arm.” My skin tingled from his
touch. It did something to my body that I didn’t like. Well, I didn’t
like that I liked it.
Lux opened the door for me then quickly moved in front of me to
shield me from any potential assault. My nerves were shot as we
stepped outside. I searched the street for my stalkers. Nothing.
“They’re gone.”
“Fuck. They might be trying to get the jump on us. Or they saw
that we don’t have the artifact.”
I didn’t understand anything that was going on. Why was this
artifact so important? “What now?” I asked.
Lux guided me toward his rented town car. The driver leaped out
and hurried to open the door for us. “We go back to the hotel and
wait.”
“Wait for what?”
His gaze hardened. “To see if those men return. And if they do, I
promise you, there won’t be much left of them when I’m through.”
By the time we got back to the hotel, there was no sign of the men
that followed Piper. Either my presence scared them off, or they
realized the Codex was not in Havana. I was hoping that whoever
had questioned Gabriella would have surfaced but he was a no show
too. It was time to stir things up a bit.
But I needed to be more careful. Whoever was after the Codex
was more dangerous than I thought. I almost lost Piper today.
Almost. She could have been kidnapped or worse and it would have
been my fault. No matter how much she frustrated me, I couldn’t
allow anything to happen to her. And the protectiveness I felt for her
in that moment…it came without warning. Like she really did belong
to me. It was the closeness. The proximity. It was getting to me.
Just like Lilith said it someday would.
Fucking Lilith. I could still feel her cold hands around my neck,
squeezing until I could barely breathe. Still felt the sharp edges of
the chains around my wrists and ankles. Hear the sound of her
laughter as they cut into me. And the feeling I had when she’d let
me loose. The love and devotion I had for that monster. All the
Another random document with
no related content on Scribd:
quite as easily. His whole bearing betrayed, not so much an
abandonment of creeds he had lived by, as a doubt of their total
sufficiency and the unsettledness which comes to one beginning to
grasp something new.
“You’ve changed a good deal,” Ruth offered audibly.
“I was thinking that about you,” Gerry said.
“I guess—I guess we’ve changed some—together.”
“I guess so.”
She sat without response. Someone neared the door and Ruth
roused and, forgetting Gerry for an instant, she listened in covert
alarm in a manner which had become so habitual to her these last
days that she was not aware of it until he noticed it. The step passed
the door; and Ruth settled back.
“Well, Cynthia,” Gerry asked her directly then, “what have you
been up to?”
“What do you mean?”
“I was going to come to Paris to see you next week,” Gerry said.
“But something particular came up yesterday to make me manage
this today. I shouldn’t tell you, I suppose; in fact I know I shouldn’t.
The intelligence people have been poking about inquiring about
you.”
Ruth felt herself growing pale but she asked steadily enough,
“Where?”
“Where I was for one place.”
“They asked you about me?”
He nodded. “They asked Agnes Ertyle, too.”
“Why?”
“That’s what I came here to find out. What’re you up to now?”
He knew nothing, Ruth was sure, about George Byrne. Whatever
knowledge was in the hands of those who questioned him, he knew
nothing more than the fact of the inquiry.
“It’s because I’ve applied for permission to go to Switzerland, I
suppose,” Ruth said.
“To go where?” he questioned.
She repeated it.
 He bent closer quickly.
“Why in the world are you going there?”
“To rest up.”
“You? That’s what you told the Embassy people, I suppose.”
“Yes.”
“Well, did they believe it?”
“I don’t know.”
“I hope you didn’t expect me to. Look at me, Cynthia Gail. Why
are you traveling to Switzerland; you have to tell me the truth of what
you intend to do!”
 Chapter XV
GERRY’S PROBLEM
Ruth had told that truth, perforce, to George Byrne with the result
that he had condemned her; and, when meeting this condemnation,
she had said that Gerry must know that she was loyal. But did she
know that now?
Questions crowded upon her which, she knew, must come to him.
She had betrayed De Trevenac; but it was a known principle of the
German spy organization that, at certain times and under certain
circumstances, one agent would betray another. The Germans
punished some of their spies in this way; in other cases, when a man
was to be discarded who had ceased to be useful, another spy had
been appointed to betray him for the advantage that the betrayal
would bring to the informer.
Immediately after that betrayal, Ruth had gone to the precise
districts concerning which the Germans had desired information
preceding and during their attack and where results proved that
spies must have been numerous and unsuspected. Gerry had
commented upon this to Ruth during their retreat from Mirevaux; and
when she replied, he had realized again that she was not in France
doing “just relief work.” He had asked what else she was doing; she
had evaded answer. Would he believe her answer now or only that
part of it which George Byrne had believed?
She arose and went to the door and saw that it was firmly closed.
“Do you remember, Gerry,” she asked when she returned “that
first time we talked together in Mrs. Corliss’ conservatory, that I said I
woke up that morning trying to imagine myself knowing you—without
the slightest hope that I ever could?”
“I remember you said something like that, Cynthia.”
“Did you ever wonder how that might be? I mean that I should
have been invited to Mrs. Corliss’ and that same morning not
imagine that I could meet you?”
 “I suppose I thought Mrs. Corliss hadn’t called you till late,” Gerry
said.
“She never called me, myself, at all. A girl—a strange girl, whom I
had never seen—a girl named Cynthia Gail had been asked. But she
had died before that day; so I came in her place.”
Gerry drew a little nearer intently. “Because your names were the
same; you were related to her?”
“No; I wasn’t related to her at all; and our names were entirely
different.”
“But you——”
“Took her name, yes, I did.”
“And her passport?” He was thinking now, Ruth knew, of her
ruined passport and how he had advised her about having a new
picture put on it and how it had been, not by her own credentials but
by his requesting Agnes Ertyle to vouch for her, that she had been
accepted in France.
“Yes; I took her passport and her identity—everything she had and
was, Gerry. I became on noon of that day Cynthia Gail. That
forenoon, I was Ruth Alden working for a real estate firm named
Hilton Brothers in Chicago for twenty-five dollars a week. I wanted to
tell you that—oh I wanted so much to tell you all about myself that
afternoon when you asked how I happened to be at Mrs. Corliss’ and
could think and say such different things from the other people
there.”
“Why didn’t you?”
She confused him, at first, as she had George Byrne; and she
made Gerry suspicious, too, but with an impersonal challenge and
distrust quite distinct from what Byrne’s had been. The real Cynthia
Gail, of course, had meant nothing to Gerry; he had known her only
as Ruth had come to him. What he was concerned for was the cause
for which and in which he had lived for four years—the cause which
was protected and secured by passports and credentials and
authentic identities and which was threatened by those who forged
passports and appeared in the allied lines under names other than
their own.
“I dared trust no one then—you almost last of all.”
 “With what?”
“The great plan which I dreamed I might carry out alone—a plan
of going into Germany, Gerry, as a spy for America!”
“Ah! So that’s the idea in Switzerland!”
“Yes. The chance came to me that morning within a few minutes
after I spoke to you in the motor car on the street. You remember
that?”
“Of course.”
“I was almost crazy to get into the war; and I couldn’t find any
way; then....”
She told him, much as she had told Byrne, about the German who
had played the beggar and who had stopped her; of the disclosures
in her room; of her going to the hotel and finding Hubert waiting; and
then, after she had gone to Mrs. Corliss’ and met Gerry, how the
German woman had ordered her to take the Ribot.
“The rest about me, I guess you know now, Gerry.”
He made no answer as he had made no challenge except a
question or two to bring out some point more clearly. For a while, as
she made her confession, he had remained seated opposite her and
gazing at her with increasing confusion and distress; then, unable to
remain quiet, he had leaped to his feet.
“Go on,” he had bid when she halted. “I’m listening.” And she
knew that he was not only listening but feeling too as he paced to
and fro before her on the other side of the lamp staring down at the
floor for long seconds, glancing at her, then staring away again.
“Hush!” he had warned her once when someone passed the door;
she had waited and he had stood listening for the step to die away.
“All right now,” he had told her.
That was all that he had said; but his tone had told of fear of
anyone else hearing what she was confessing to him; and then there
beat back upon him realization that the chief threat to her must be
from himself.
“I knew you were up to something, Ruth,” he murmured under his
breath. “Ruth,” he repeated her name, “Ruth Alden! That fits you
better somehow; and what you’ve been doing fits you better, too. But
—” he realized suddenly that this was acknowledging belief in her—
belief beyond his right to have faith in this girl who once on the boat
had tried to save his life and who, upon the battle field, had saved
him and at frightful risk to herself. But he was not thinking chiefly of
that; he was thinking of their intimacies from the first and particularly
of that day when, after she had saved him from the wreck of his
machine, they had driven away from the battle together.
“Only two things have happened to me since I went on board the
Ribot which you don’t know all about,” she was adding, “and which
had any connection with the secret I was keeping from you. One was
my meeting with De Trevenac. He stopped me on the street,
supposing I was a German agent. He gave me the orders which I
told you he gave to someone else.”
“I was supposing,” Gerry replied, “that the entire truth about De
Trevenac was something like that.”
“You know the entire truth about him now,” Ruth said. “What I told
you before I specifically said was not the entire truth.”
Gerry winced a little as he turned toward her. “Don’t think I’m
holding that against you—if you’re Ruth Alden, as you say. Only if
you’re German——”
“German!” Ruth refused the word with a gasp. “Gerry, you can’t
believe that.”
“What was the other episode?” he asked quickly; and now she
told him about George Byrne; of her attempt to continue to deceive
him; of his mistaking her for his love; then his discovery of the truth
and their talk in the ruined house; of Byrne’s accusation and arrest of
her; of the irruption of the German and his attack; his repetition of the
order to her to go to Switzerland; and of her waiting since.
“I told him when he accused me and I could not make him believe,
that you would know about me, Gerry!” she cried. “I thought
everything would be all right if only I could get you! And oh—oh I’ve
wanted you to come ever since!”
She did not mean to say that, he saw; it was not possible that this
cry was planned and practiced for effect. It burst so unbidden, so
unguarded from her breast; and seized upon him like her hand—her
small, soft, strong little hand—closing upon his heart. It told to him a
thousand times better than all the words she had just said, of her
loneliness and fears and dreads fought out all by herself in her wild,
solitary, desperate adventure. And Gerry, gazing down at her, did not
ask himself again whether he believed. Instead he saw her once
more as first he had seen her at Mrs. Corliss’, and his heart
compressed as never it had before as he thought of her, a little office
girl making twenty-five dollars a week, coming to that big, rich house
not knowing who or what she would meet there and standing up so
singly and alone for her country and her faith; he saw her again as
she was on the Ribot, surrounded by new terrors and with perils to
her increasing day by day and playing her part so well; and now
passions and sensations which he had fought and had tried to put
off, overwhelmed him again. He felt her, wet and small with all her
clothing clinging to her as he had taken her from a sailor’s arms and
she, looking up at him, had tried so bravely and defiantly to deny
what her cries had just confessed to all the ship—that she was his;
she had gone into the sea for him. He saw and heard and felt her
hands upon him again as he lay helpless under the wreck of his
airplane and she worked beside him, coolly and well, though
machine-gun bullets were striking all about her; and she had freed
him. The sensation of their ride together returned while he had been
almost helpless in the seat of the truck watching her drive and
listening while she talked to him of another man whom she had liked
—the English officer, who had been killed, “1583.”
As Gerry had envied that other man his comradeship with this girl,
now jealousy rose for the man who, for the wanton moments of his
tragic mistake, had possessed himself of her. She had not wished it;
she had submitted to his arms, to his kisses only perforce. She had
said, indeed, that she had not quite succeeded in submitting; and
Gerry found himself rejoicing in that. But another man had held her;
another had kissed her in full passion; and Gerry was dazed to find
now how he felt at that.
He had known that she had been his almost from the first; but he
had not known that he had wanted her his until he had had to think
of her as having been someone else’s.
He gazed down at her now, little, sweet, more beautiful than she
had ever seemed to him before, and alone in danger; and his arms
hungered to hold her; his face burned with blood running hot to press
warm lips against hers. He wanted to feel with her all that any other
man had felt; and she—she would not put him off. But instead, he
had to judge her. So he stood away, his hands behind his back, one
hand locked tight on the other wrist.
“Well,” he said, “I’m here; what do you want me to do?”
“You’ll do it for me, Gerry?”
“What?”
“Help me to Switzerland.”
“Still as Cynthia Gail, of course.”
“Yes.”
“Then you turn into—whom?”
“The German girl whom they will take into Germany.”
“I suppose so. But who is she? Where does she come from? What
is her name?”
“I don’t know.”
“What?”
“She came from Chicago, I suppose.”
“You suppose; and you don’t know even her name and intend to
try to be her!”
“It’s possible, Gerry; oh it’s possible, truly. You see I don’t believe
the Germans here in Paris, or those who’ll meet me in Switzerland,
know who I’m supposed to be.”
“What do you think they’ll know?”
“That the girl who’s here going under the name of Cynthia Gail,
and doing the work I’m doing, is really one of themselves and that
she’ll appear in Lucerne. Those are the essentials; and so far as I’ve
been able to observe the German-spy system—and you see I’ve
been a part of it for a while——”
“Yes; I see.”
“—it seems pretty well reduced to communicating just essentials.
Of course I’ve prepared a German-American name and identity for
myself. If they really know anything in Germany about the girl whom
their Chicago people sent here, they’ll have me; but if they don’t, I’ll
get on. That’s the part I’ve really been preparing myself for all these
months, Gerry; just being Cynthia Gail here was—nothing.”
 He felt himself jerk and recoil at that. Had she been playing a part
with him all this time as well as to others; had this being his been
only a rôle which she had acted?
“I see,” he said to her curtly.
“Oh, not nothing to me, Gerry, in the things I’ve had to do when I
wrote Cynthia’s mother and father and when I had to write George
Byrne and when I’ve been seeing her brother. I meant that deceiving
Hubert and his aunt and her friends here and the rest and you,
Gerry, was—” she did not finish.
“Quite simple,” he completed for her with relief. So the deception
with him had not been hard because, in what would have been hard,
she had not deceived him. “Where’s Hubert?” Gerry questioned now.
“I don’t know. I don’t think he’s in Paris, now.”
“You haven’t heard from him recently?”
“He sent me several postals when I was at Mirevaux; I’ve not
heard from him since.”
“Then he knows nothing whatever about this?”
“He doesn’t know that George Byrne found me, Gerry; but he
knows I’m not Cynthia Gail.”
“Ah! So you told him some time ago, did you?” Jealousy of Hubert
now leaped in him; Hubert had known of her what he could not know.
“I didn’t tell him; or I didn’t mean to, Gerry,” Ruth explained. “He
knew about me—that is, about Cynthia Gail, of course—and he
asked me questions on the train coming here from Bordeaux which I
had to answer and answered wrongly.”
“Oh; he caught you, then; he told you so!”
“He caught me, Gerry; but he didn’t tell me so,” Ruth corrected. “I
didn’t know at all that I’d given him answers which he knew were
false until I found out some family facts from Charles Gail here the
other day. Hubert must have known I wasn’t Cynthia, but——”
“What?”
“I guess he trusted to me, myself, that I could not be against our
cause.”
She had not attempted to make a rebuke of that reply; but Gerry
felt it.
 “Hub hadn’t been put in my position, Ruth,” he defended himself.
“He hadn’t been made responsible for you—in France.”
“I think that he felt himself wholly responsible for me, Gerry,” Ruth
replied, coloring warmly as she thought of the complete loyalty of her
strange friend. “Only he felt willing to accept the responsibility.”
“But he did not know what you were doing!” Gerry protested. “He
did not know that you were accused as a spy!”
“No,” Ruth said; then, “So I am accused, Gerry?”
“Byrne accused you, you said. Inquiries certainly have been
made; that puts another problem up to a man.”
“Yes,” she said. But he knew, as he gazed down at her, that she
was thinking that Hubert would have trusted her just the same.
Was she manipulating him now, Gerry wondered? Was it possible
that this girl had been playing with and utilizing him in what had just
passed? Had George Byrne come and had all happened which she
had told him or was it conceivable that she had contrived the whole
story, or distorted it for effect upon him to anticipate accusation
against her from other quarters? Had Hubert really found out about
her; or was that too invented for the sake of flicking him into blind
espousal of her plans? Flashes of such sort fought with every natural
reaction to remembrance of his own close comradeship with her.
Impossible; impossible! his impulses iterated to him. But his four
years in France had taught him that the impossible in relations, in
understandings, in faiths and associations between man and man
and man and woman had ceased to exist. In this realization, at least,
his situation was truly distinct from Hubert’s. He believed in her; at
least, he wished to tear his hands apart from their clench together
behind him; he longed to extend them to her; he burned at thought of
lifting her again and feeling her weight in his arms; and when he
looked at her lips, it fired flame to his; yet——
“I don’t flatter myself that I can control the report which is being
compiled about you, Ruth Alden,” he said. “What I have said, and
may say, will only be a part of the data which will determine what’s to
be done with you. For you realize, now, that one thing or the other’s
to be done.”
“I realize that, Gerry,” she said.
 “You know that in one case they must arrest you and try you—by
court-martial.”
“Yes.”
“I may—I don’t know! God help you and me, Ruth Alden, I don’t
know yet—I may have to give part of the evidence which will accuse
you! But though I do—and after I’ve done it—you must know that I’ll
be fighting for you, believing in spite of facts which I may be bound to
witness, that you somehow are all right. I’ll be trying to save you. I
suppose that sounds mad to you; but it’s true.”
“It doesn’t sound mad to me.”
“In the other case,” he went on, “in case I can decide honestly with
myself that you cannot possibly be doing anything one jot to threaten
our cause, and in case Byrne has died or does not speak, then
probably you will be passed on to Switzerland and you’ll try to go into
Germany.”
Ruth waited without reply.
“Do you see what you’re putting up to me? You’re making me
either accuse you to the French and cause you to be imprisoned and
tried; or, if I believe and let them believe that you’re American, I must
know that I’m sending you on into Germany to face a German firing
squad. For they’ll shoot you down, as they did Edith Cavell, when
they catch you; and they’ll catch you! You haven’t a chance and you
know it! So give it up—give it up, I say! Go tomorrow and cancel your
request; go home or stay here and work only as you have been
doing.”
“And when I’m taking my train of refugees out of the villages in the
next zone where they strike, know again that I might have done
some bit to prevent it and—I was afraid? What can you think of me?
Do you think I could have done all that I’ve told you I have just for the
sake of working here in Paris? Do you think I could see death come
to so many and care how it comes to me?”
“It’s not just death,” Gerry said, quivering as he gazed down at
her. “If I could be sure they’d just kill you, it might be easier to leave
your affairs to you. Who owns the right to refuse another his way to
die? But you’re a girl. At first when they may think you one of
themselves, you may be safe; but then they’ll discover you. A man—
or what passes in Germany for a man—probably will find you out. He
——”
Gerry could say no more; for a moment his resistance to himself
broke and his hands seized her. “They shan’t!” he denied to her
fiercely. “They shan’t!”
Gently she raised a hand and, as she had upon that occasion
before, she loosened the grasp of his fingers.
“You’re not to think about what could happen to me; you must
think only of what I may do, Gerry,” she said.
He released her, as he had before; but this time he caught the
fingers which opposed his; he bent quickly and, carrying her hand to
his lips, he kissed it.
He drew back from her then; and she closed her other hand over
the fingers which he had kissed and, so holding, she stood gazing up
at him under lashes wet with tears.
“I’m going now,” he said abruptly. “What I’ll have to do about you—
I don’t know. I suppose you realize that since you’ve applied for
permission for Switzerland, and since I’ve been questioned about
you, probably you are under special observation. So whatever you
think I may be doing about you, you’d better not attempt to move for
the present.”
“I don’t expect to make any move at all—unless I receive my
permission for Switzerland,” Ruth said.
“All right.” He turned away and looked for his cap in the corner
where he had left it; then he came back and briefly said good night.
Out upon the street with the darkness enveloping him, misgivings
tormented him again. The little, dim Rue des Saints Pères was quiet
and almost deserted; all Paris seemed hushed. The spring warmth of
the evening which, in another year, would have brought stir and
gladness which would have thronged the avenues with folk upon
idle, joyous errands tonight brought only oppression. Paris, Gerry
knew, denied danger; yet Paris and, with Paris, all of France; and,
with France, all Europe; and, with Europe, America and the rest of
the world lay menaced that April night as they had not been since
the September of the Marne.
 For in the great bulge in the battle line which the enemy had thrust
between Amiens and Paris, the Germans had established firmly their
positions and there they rested, while to the north beyond Arras they
were striking their second tremendous blow and had overrun
Armentières and were rushing on toward Calais and the Channel.
Gerry strode on with consciousness of these events almost
physically pressing upon him. In their presence, what was he with his
prejudices and passions, what was that girl who had seared his lips
when he pressed them against her fingers so that still for many
moments afterwards his lips burned and tingled? If she was a
German spy who had been deluding and playing with him, to permit
her to proceed now might work further catastrophe incalculable;
whereas were she what he believed—yes; he believed—she could
do no good but must merely destroy herself if allowed to go on. Had
he any choice but to take the only action which could prevent her?
Ruth had waited alone in the little parlor after he had gone, with
her left hand clasped protectingly over the fingers which he had
kissed; protectingly she kept that clasp while, standing at the
window, she had watched his figure disappear in the darkness of the
street of the Holy Fathers. Her fingers were hot like his lips; and
while that heat still was strong, she brought her hand to her cheek
and pressed it there.
That night nothing else occurred; nor upon the next day and night,
nor during the following week did Ruth hear from Gerry as to what he
had done about her; and she encountered nothing to indicate his
decision until, calling again about her request for travel in
Switzerland, suddenly she found permission granted, whereupon
she took the first train for the east of France and the next morning
passed the border into Switzerland. Accordingly it was in the shadow
of Mount Pilatus that she read in a Bern newspaper that three days
previously the American ace, Gerry Hull, had been shot down while
flying over the German lines; but that his companions in the flight,
who had returned, reported that, though falling in enemy territory, he
seemed to have succeeded in making some sort of a landing; so it
was possible that he was not killed but might be a prisoner in the
hands of the Germans.
 CHAPTER XVI
INTO GERMANY
The little Republic of Switzerland, always one of the most
interesting spots in the world, became during this war a most
amazing and anomalous country. Completely surrounded by four
great powers at war—and itself peopled by citizens each speaking
the tongue of one or another of its neighbors and each allied by
blood with one or with two or with three, or, perhaps, with all—the
Swiss Confederation suffered a complex of passions, sympathies,
and prejudices quite beyond possible parallel elsewhere. And, as
everyone knows, the Swiss Republic during the four years of the
war, successfully persisted in peace.
Peace! What a strange condition in which to live, Ruth wondered
with herself as she encountered the astonishments on every hand
when she had crossed the border. She had been in a country at war
for not quite three months—unless you nominated America from
April, 1917, to January, 1918, a nation at war. Ruth did not. As she
thought of her life before she took ship for France, the date of
America’s declaration of a state of war with the Imperial German
government was not fixed in the fiber of her feelings as were many
other days before the date of that declaration—the September 6 of
the Marne, the May 7 of the Lusitania, the glorious weeks of the
defense of Verdun. The war declaration of April 6, 1917, seemed
now to Ruth but a sort of official notification of the intentions of the
American people which since then had only continued to develop.
That home country which she had left in the last days of January
was not nearly so different from its peace-time self as war-time
France had proved distinct from war-time America.
Certainly Ruth’s life had run on almost unchanged by the
American declaration of war, save for the strengthening of her futile,
stifled passions. But that day in January, which had embarked her for
France, had ushered her into a realm which demanded dealings in
realities which swiftly had made all before seem illusory and
phantasmagorical.
The feeling of dreamland incredulity that she, Ruth Alden, could
actually be experiencing those gloriously exciting days upon the
Ribot and following her arrival in France had been supplanted by
sensations which made it seem that these last weeks had been the
only real ones in her life. When she thought of her old self—of that
strange, shadowy, almost substanceless girl who used to work in a
Madison Street real estate office for Sam Hilton—it was her life in
Chicago which had become incredible. She did not, therefore, forget
her own home; on the contrary, her work which had been largely the
gathering together of scattered family groups and the attempt to
reestablish homes, had made her dwell with particular poignancy
upon memories of the little house in Onarga where her mother and
her sisters dwelt. Regularly Ruth had addressed a letter to her
mother and dropped it in a post-box; she had dared tell nothing of
herself or of her work or give any address by which anyone could
trace her. She simply endeavored to send to her mother assurance
that she was well and in France. Obviously she could not receive
reply from her mother; indeed, Ruth could have no knowledge that
any of her letters ever reached home. She experienced the dreads
which every loving person feels when no news can come; such
experience was only part of the common lot there in France; but it
helped to remove her life at home further into the past.
Switzerland, strangely and without warning, had undone much
that France and the battle zone had worked within Ruth; the
inevitable relaxing of the strain of work in a country at war had
returned Ruth to earlier emotions. What was she, Ruth Alden, doing
here alone in the Alps? She was standing, as one in a dream, upon
the quay before the splendid hotels of Lucerne and gazing over the
blue, wonderful, mountain-mirroring waters of the Lac des Quatre
Cantons. Off to the southwest, grand and rugged against the azure
sky, rose the snow-capped peaks of Pilatus; to the east, glistening
and more smiling under the spring sun, lay the Rigi. The beauty and
wonder of it was beyond anything which Ruth Alden could have
known. Who was she that she was there?
 Then a boy came by with newspapers and she bought a German
newspaper and one printed in French at Bern. It was this one which
informed her, when she glanced down its columns, that Gerry Hull
had been shot down, and, strangely—and mercifully, perhaps—this
knowledge came not to the girl who, during the past months had
been his friend, his close comrade during days most recent; it
seemed to come, somehow, only to a girl who lay awake early in the
morning in a shabby room at an Ontario Street boarding house, a girl
who day-dreamed about impossible happenings such as knowing
Gerry Hull, but who soon must stir to go down to breakfast at the
disorderly table in the ill-lit room below and then catch a crowded car
for Sam Hilton’s office.
Such was the work of peace and Pilatus and the Rigi and the
images upon the lake. War—war which had become the only reality,
the sole basis of being—miraculously had vanished. She passed
through throngs speaking German and by other groups conversing in
French; these stood side by side, neither one prisoner to the other;
they had no apparent hostility or animosity. These people, in part at
least, were German and French; but there beyond the border—Ruth
gazed in the direction of Alsace—men of such sorts sprang at one
another with bayonets; and Gerry Hull had been shot down.
Ruth searched the German newspaper for further word of him;
she looked up a news-stand and bought several papers, both French
and German. In some she discovered the same brief announcement
of the fate of the American pilot; but no further information. But it was
certain that he was dead or a prisoner—wounded, probably, or at
least injured by the crash of his airplane in the “some sort of a
landing” which he had succeeded in making. It had been “some sort
of a landing” which he had made that time he was shot down when
she had gone to him and helped him free. Tales of German
treatment of their prisoners—tales which she could not doubt, having
been told her by men who themselves had suffered—recurred to her
and brought her out of this pleasant, peaceful Lethe from realities in
which Lucerne, for a few hours, had let her live. Tension returned;
and, with the tension, grief but not tears; instead, that determination
imbued her which she had witnessed often enough in others, when
loss of their own was made known to them. Gerry Hull, she thus
knew, was her own; and as she had seen men and women in France
giving themselves for the general cause, and for one particular,
personal vengeance, too, so Ruth thought of her errand into
Germany no longer as solely to gather information for the army but
to find and free Gerry Hull, if he was a prisoner; and if he was killed,
then to take some special, personal vengeance for him.
She had come to Lucerne—ostensibly—to rest and to recuperate;
and Mrs. Mayhew had given her letters to friends who were staying
at one of the large hotels. Ruth had registered at the same hotel and
a Mrs. Folwell, an American, had taken Ruth under her
chaperonage. Ruth’s name, upon the hotel register, of course stood
as Cynthia Gail; and as Miss Gail, she met other guests in the hotel,
which was one of those known as an “allied hotel” in the row of
splendid buildings upon the water front devoted to the great Swiss
peace and war industrie des étrangers. The majority of its guests,
that is, designated themselves as English or French, Italian or
American—whatever in fact they might be. The minority laid claim to
neutral status—Norwegian, Danish, Hollandish, Swedish, Spanish.
But everyone recognized that in this hotel, as in all the others, the
Germans and Austrians possessed representatives among the
guests as well as among the servants.
“It is the best procedure,” Mrs. Folwell said half seriously to Ruth
upon her arrival, “to lay out all your correspondence upon your table
when you leave the room so that it may be examined, in your
absence, with the least possible disturbance. They will see it
anyway.”
Ruth was quite willing. Indeed, she was desirous of advertising, as
quickly as possible, the presence of “Cynthia Gail.” She had taken
the trouble to learn a simple device, employing ordinary toilet powder
and pin perforations through sheets of paper, which would disclose
whether the pages of a letter had been disturbed. Accordingly she
prepared her letters, and, merely locking them in her bureau drawer,
she left them in her room. Returning some hours later, and unlocking
the drawer, she found all her letters apparently undisturbed; but the
powder and the perforation proved competent to evidence that
secret examination had been made.
 Of course examination might have been at the hands of allied
agents; for Ruth did not imagine that the Germans and Austrians
alone concerned themselves with war-time visitors to Switzerland;
but she felt sure that the Germans had made their search also.
After breakfast the next morning Ruth met a man of twenty-eight
or thirty—tall, reddish-haired, and with small gray eyes by name
Christian Wessels, known as a Norwegian gentleman who had made
himself agreeable to the Americans at the hotel. He was an ardent
admirer of American policies and could repeat verbatim the
statement of American war aims given by President Wilson to
Congress three months before. He was a young man of culture,
having graduated from the Swedish University of Upsala and was
now corresponding with the University of Copenhagen. He proved to
be a man of cosmopolitan acquaintance who had visited London,
New York, San Francisco. He spoke English perfectly; and he nursed
profound, personal antipathy to Germany as his family fortunes had
suffered enormously through the torpedoing of Norwegian ships;
moreover, he himself had been traveling from England to Bergen
when his ship was destroyed and he had been exposed to winter
weather in an open boat for five days before being picked up. He
was only now recuperating from the effects of that exposure,
meanwhile carrying on certain economic studies to guide trade
relations after the war.
His method of recuperation, Ruth observed, was to eat as heavily
and as often as occasions permitted; he was a sleek, sensuous
young man, ease-loving and, by his own account, a connoisseur of
the arts. He talked informatively about painting, as about politics.
Ruth did not like him; but when she encountered him as she was
wandering about alone gazing at the quaint houses in the interior of
the old town, she could not be too rude to him when he offered
himself as a guide.
“You have seen the Kapellbrücke, Miss Gail?”
“Yes; of course,” Ruth said.
“And the historical paintings? You understand them?”
“Yes,” Ruth asserted again.
“To what do they refer?”
 “I don’t know,” Ruth admitted, and accompanied him, in no wise
offended, back to the old bridge over the Reuss; then to the
Mühlenbrücke with its Dance of Death; next he took her away to the
Glacier Garden.
While they had been in the town with many people close by, his
manner to Ruth had not been unusually offensive; but when they
were away alone, he became more familiar and he took to uncovert
appraisal of her face and figure.
“You are younger than I had expected,” he commented to her,
apropos of nothing which had gone before but his too steady scrutiny
of her face and her figure.
“I did not know that you expected anything in regard to me,” Ruth
said. “Mrs. Folwell did not know I was coming until I arrived.”
“Ah! But your orders were given you—the thirtieth of last month,
were they not?”
Ruth stiffened. The thirtieth of last month was the day upon which
she had arrived in Paris from Compiègne, the day upon which she
had visited Charles Gail and, upon her return to the Rue des Saints
Pères, had met George Byrne. Only one order had been given her
that day; and that order had been given by the German who struck
down Byrne. No one else had known about that order but herself and
the German; she had told Gerry and he might have told it to the
French authorities. But she could not associate this sleek,
sensuously unpleasant person, going by the name of Wessels, with
anyone whom Gerry could have informed. She readily could connect
him with the German who had for her attempted to strike Byrne
dead; and she had been awaiting—impatiently awaiting—the
German agent here at Lucerne who must accost her.
“Yes; the thirtieth,” Ruth said.
“Then why did you not come sooner?”
“I applied at once for permission,” Ruth defended herself. “It was
delayed.”
“Ah! Then you had much difficulty?”
“Delay,” Ruth repeated. “That was all; though I may have been
investigated.”
“You used Hull again to help you, I suppose.”
 “Yes, I used Hull,” Ruth said.
Her heart was palpitating feverishly and the compression in her
throat almost choked her while she fought for outward calm. She
was a German girl, she must remember; she had come from her
great peril; she had passed it; this was relief and refuge with one of
her own before whom, at last, she could freely speak; for—though
she dared not yet fully act upon the conviction—she no longer
doubted at all that this Wessels was the enemy agent who was to
control her henceforth. How much did he know about her, or about
the girl she was supposed to be? He knew that she had been
ordered here on the thirtieth of last month; he knew that she had at
times “used” Gerry Hull.
“We have him now, you know,” Wessels said, watching her with
his disagreeable, close scrutiny.
“He’s captured?” Ruth said. She had remembered that she must
have no real concern for the fate of an enemy pilot whom she had
“used.”
“Dead or captured; anyway, we have him,” Wessels assured. He
had continued to speak to her in English, though no one was near
them; and if anyone did overhear, the German tongue certainly
would arouse no comment in Lucerne. “Mecklen seems to have only
half-done your other flame.”
In his conversation at the hotel he had affected the use of slang to
display his complete familiarity with English, Ruth had noticed; and
she caught his meaning instantly. Her other flame was George
Byrne, of course; Mecklen, who had “only half-done” him, must be
the German of the ruined house.
“Byrne did not die?” Ruth asked.
“Who’s Byrne?” Wessels returned. “The American infantry
lieutenant?”
“Yes.”
“No; he did not die. Mecklen shut his mouth; but any day now it
may open. When you did not come, I thought it had.”
“His mouth opened?”
“Yes; we had better walk, perhaps. There are many more places
of great interest. I shall show them to you.”