‘What a pity. Tamas is like my best buddy.’ Kira sighed. ‘I’d love to say hi.’
Rossiter ignored her, eyes fixed on the two people at the centre of the enormous cavern. Most of the Facility knew exactly what Kira thought of Tamas. That he was a dick. A dickless dick. Perry had said once that jealousy might be at the core of it. That Blake spent more time and shared more secrets with the insipid little shit than she did her own sister, and Kira didn’t like it. She’d rewarded Perry’s deduction by stealing his car and disappearing for twenty-four hours. He’d been well pissed. Obviously, he loved his Audi more than she’d realised.
‘Holy shit.’ Kira jumped at a thought. ‘Is Tamas a vampire too?’
But Rossiter had reached what she liked to refer to as his ‘K-threshold’. When he was done with her shit, he went silent. Didn’t bite when she tried to throw a line. No way in hell would she ever tell him, but Kira kind of liked the impenetrable wall of silence he put up. Her gaze moved back to her sister. Blake had escaped the curly-hair curse, and her perfectly straight shoulder-length black hair was in its usual ponytail. But usually it was pulled back so hard she wouldn’t need a facelift for years to come. Today it looked as though field mice had held an MMA match in the strands. And if Blake lost any more weight, there would be no skin to tuck back in a facelift. The long-sleeved pastel-green shirt and ill-fitting black pants seemed to be the only thing holding Blake’s skeleton together. Fuck, she was gaunt. Gaunt. Man, that word needed to be used more, Kira decided.
Finally, Tamas turned to leave. He had his arms wrapped round his belly, as though he felt like Kira did right now, not trusting her stomach contents to stay where they were. He was thirty-something, but he was moving as if he were ready for a Zimmer frame. Kira made a mental note to buy one and have it put in his room. Hilarious.
‘Right. You’re sorted then.’ Rossiter moved back over to the elevator. ‘I’ll leave you two to have your usual pleasant conversations.’
A moment later the twin silver doors of the elevator slid back. It wasn’t empty. The occupant stared directly at Kira. Her breath jammed into the back of her throat, just as it did every time she saw the guy. It had been a while.
Kira lifted her hand, flicked out a lazy wave. ‘Eron, hey, how’s the banishment going? They still got you in the naughty corner?’ Treat ’em mean, keep ’em keen had always worked well.
Eron’s expression didn’t shift from a sulky supermodel pout of disinterest as he stepped from the elevator.
‘I’m sure you are aware of the circumstances. I was not permitted to attend the First Meld last night,’ he said, his alien accent lacing his English with a vaguely Eastern European lilt.
‘Totes. Must have sucked, not . . . melding.’ Kira shrugged.
What in all hells was a First Meld? And who the fuck cared? Unless it was some ET orgy, in which case where the fuck had her invitation gone? Least they could do was reward her for keeping the BIG secret all these years. No easy task keeping quiet about the aliens in the basement when ethanol was pretty much your best friend.
Christ, he was beautiful. Lips too full, and curves tracing a salivating, and confusing, line between the hardness of a dude’s features and the fleshier, more tantalising delicacy of a woman’s. All the aliens had the androgynous thing going on, but none of them skirted the feminine line quite like Eron did. If her heart hadn’t been a chunk of machinery, and it could actually beat, it would have thumped like a friggin’ pole driver right then. Kira forced herself to take a breath. Get a grip. Control the little monster between her legs.
Eron nodded to Rossiter, who in turn nodded back, muttering something about them not wasting time in here and getting to Blake.
‘I’m heading back to surveillance. Keep an eye on things,’ Rossiter said, but no one paid him any mind.
The elevator doors closed and they were alone. Eron’s gaze rested on her. His face was framed by his long silver-white hair. From this distance his eyes were two orbs of complete white. But she knew that close up, very close up, there was the barest hint of blue beneath the snow. The hue always shone just a little brighter when her fingers found a particular spot, right up high on his inner thigh. Things got a little warmer in her panties and Kira turned away. So much for getting a grip. What in all the holy bejesuses was Blake up to?
The door separating them from the main chamber slid open. Blake stood there, all five foot three undernourished inches of her. A button was missing about halfway up her pastel-green shirt, hinting at a flesh-coloured bra beneath. Tweezers were desperately needed to launch a plucking attack on her dark eyebrows. Kira chewed at the dry skin on her bottom lip. She’d not seen Blake in a month. B had never been a clothes horse, never even worn mascara, but boy, she’d let things slide in a big way.
Blake glanced at Kira, her gaze darting up and down, but her expression gave nothing away. She turned to Eron.
‘We need to make this brief. Come with me.’
‘Hey, sis, missed you too. No hugs?’ Kira raised her arms and pursed her lips. ‘Maybe a smooch?’
‘I don’t have time for your childishness, Kira –’
‘Saying hello is childish now? Wow, things changed a lot while I was in Bali.’
‘Just hurry
