Myanin narrowed her eyes on the fae. “Do you have another ability? Are you able to read people or pick up a small amount of what they’re feeling?”
Tenia’s lips turned up in a small smile. “It doesn’t take a supernatural gift to read your face. You don’t show much emotion … until you do. And when that happens, it’s pretty clear.” She quickly followed with, “Don’t worry, you haven’t revealed anything to Alston, Ludcarab, or Cain. Your badass djinn persona is completely in place when you’re at the compound. But the more we’ve talked, the more your eyes and expressions have changed.”
Myanin examined her thoughts and even her heart. Once again she remembered the Great Luna showing up in the Order’s meeting and the words the goddess had spoken into her mind. Was there still hope for her? If so, did she really want it? It would mean letting go of her mission. Before she’d lost her standing with her people, her purpose had been to be a warrior. Now, it was vengeance. What was her purpose if she abandoned the course she was on? The questions left her feeling shaken. She hadn’t realized until Tenia asked that her once-solid resolve had already begun to have slivers in it. The thick wall she had erected around herself was being worn down by the constant bombardment of her victim, her Creator, and her own guilt.
“I can’t tell you how to feel,” Tenia said when Myanin didn’t answer her question. Tenia set her spoon down and took a drink before she continued. “But I can tell you that if you hold onto that hate and rage, it will eat you from the inside out. I know because I see it in Alston, Ludcarab, and others in the Order. Their hate toward the humans have warped them into monsters who don’t care who they destroy to get what they want. They have hardened their hearts beyond repair. They will never be able to feel even an ounce of remorse for what they’ve done or what they are going to do.”
Myanin heard the words, but she wasn’t ready to examine them. She’d reached her limit of self-reflection for the moment. And she’d said more than enough already on the subject, and the djinn was beginning to feel restless.
“Speaking of the innocent,” she referenced back to Tenia’s words about the healer, efficiently changing the subject, “where are we going to get these humans we’re supposed to deliver to Cain?”
Tenia’s face changed immediately. The concerned look was gone and in its place was rage.
A lightbulb flicked in Myanin’s head. “That’s why Alston sent you.” Alston hadn’t only sent Tenia with Myanin so they could flash. It was because Tenia could make the human’s want to go with them. Her ability could keep the humans from fighting or become mindless drones. They wouldn’t draw any attention at all.
Tenia nodded. “And he knows I will do it, too. I will sacrifice others’ lives to keep my child safe. I’ll worry about what that means for my conscience later.”
“Children are precious,” Myanin said. “Every supernatural race knows that. The fact that Ludcarab and Alston are willing to exploit them is disgusting.”
“I agree,” Tenia said. “But unless you’re prepared to use your power and destroy hundreds of thousands of innocents, and I’m not willing to piss off Alston and have him send a draheim to eat me, we’re kind of stuck. I assume you will keep your power contained, no matter what?”
Myanin nodded. “Boundaries and all that,” she muttered.
“Then we have to play their game. For now.” Tenia took another drink. “I’ve been thinking about the humans and where we could get them. Supernaturals don’t keep large quantities of prisoners, but humans do.”
Myanin’s brow rose. Tenia was right about supernatural beings rarely keeping prisoners. Why would they? Usually, if a supernatural did something wrong, it was too dangerous to keep them around. Their power had to be controlled. Their kind couldn’t tolerate loose cannons running around risking exposure to the human population. The fae—the supernatural police, so to speak—were usually the ones to take care of the issue, unless the leader of the race involved wanted to deal with it, in which case a high fae had to be present to make sure the sentencing was carried out.
“The people in the human prisons are bad … mostly. We could use them.”
“So, you want us to take mostly evil humans and make them more evil, then put them in the hands of even more evil supernaturals?” Myanin asked.
Tenia frowned. “When you put it like that it sounds like a terrible plan.”
Chapter 5
“Can a person be so broken, so shattered, that their pieces cannot be put back together again? What if the emotional pain is too great for their mind to handle? What about the rest of us? Those forced to watch it happen? What are we supposed to do?” ~Jacque
It was difficult, but Jacque refrained from throwing her cell phone across the room. She’d called her mom no less than a hundred times over the past few weeks. Lilly hadn’t answered. Not one … single … time. Jacque understood that her mother was hurting. She shook her head. No, she didn’t understand, not really. And it wasn’t fair of her to even say she did. Jacque still had her mate, and if she lost him, then she went with him. Such was the law of the Canis lupus. There would be no separation from Fane, ever. Her mom wasn’t so lucky. She had lost two men she loved. Jacque couldn’t even begin to imagine the heartbreak.
“I just wish she’d talk to me!” Jacque yelled at the empty room. “I need to hear her voice.”
The door to the suite suddenly flew open, bounced off the wall, and closed itself again. A second later, it was pushed open slowly by a huge arm. Jen stumbled in past the arm, which was attached to her mate, who was glaring
