Chương 12: Chapter 11 - Not all threats are subtle

The antechamber had a carpet thick enough to lose a shoe in, granite walls, and paintings and statuary that looked like they'd been randomly thrown together by someone with a very unstable mood. Ophelia stood in the living room, by a floor-to-ceiling window. The whole apartment barely had walls, just glass, which made a point of exactly how high above the Manhattan skyline we were. Everything inside was leather or fur. She wore a dress the color of fresh blood, its back unzipped all the way down to her ass.

Her dark hair was pulled into an elegant twist, exposing the pale curve of her neck. She glanced at me over her shoulder, crimson eyes shining with inner light, framed in black and red makeup.

"You're right on time to zip me up." I smirked and walked over. I knew how this game was played. She'd been holding that pose for fifteen minutes minimum, waiting for me to show up. I caught the zipper and pulled it all the way up in one motion. The dress cinched tight around her, hugging every curve, leaving little to the imagination.

"One move," she said, smiling.

"Smooth." She turned, caught my head, and pressed herself against me. Her body passed straight through the fabric, hers and mine, skin meeting skin, and she kissed me. Her lips hit mine with sniper precision. There was nothing chaste about the kiss. It was aggressive, possessive, her tongue everywhere at once. She tasted like fresh blood. Someone didn't use a mouth wash after dinner, and it wasn't me. When she finally pulled back, she was grinning.

"Hello, boyfriend."

"Hi," I managed. She stayed leaned into me, close enough that I could feel the fast, irregular heartbeat of her six hearts through my chest.

"I've brought you something." I produced the velvet box. Her eyes lit up.

"Oooh. I love getting gifts." I opened it. She lifted the bracelet out and narrowed her eyes at the glow.

"Are those trapped souls in the crystal?"

"I thought it made it shine well."

"It certainly does." She giggled.

"It also elegantly sends the message of don't piss me off, or I'll seal your soul into a rock." Ehm. That wasn't how I meant it. She grinned.

"I love it! Put it on me." Ah, silly me for me to be worried about her having a sane reaction. I lifted the bracelet.

"Not like that." She turned, holding my head with one hand while she pulled her back flush against my chest, maximizing skin contact through the dress that didn't exist for her.

"Like this." She drew my head over her shoulder and offered her wrist. I took her hand and worked the bracelet around it. Locking the clasp took three tries, because every drop of blood in my body had relocated to my loins and my brain was running on fumes.

"Perfect." She raised her wrist, admiring the glow, then pulled my lips to hers and kissed me again. Slower this time. Damn, she was really into this. There was nothing pretend-girlfriend about it. This was hungry, intoxicating, more intense than any kiss I'd had with any actual girlfriend. The strangest sensation passed through me, a burning touch on my heart. As I broke off the kiss, I realized her hand had passed through my chest. She literally held my heart in her hand, not touching anything else.

A not so subtle warning of don't piss me off or I'll tear your heart out of your chest. I gulped dryly. I didn't have enough endurance to regenerate out of that, if it were even possible.

"You have a nice heart. I love it." She giggled, pulling her hand away, the wicked grin returning to her face.

"Now, before we go. We must practice how you hold me. This isn't prom, so you'll hold me by the hip. Like this." She grabbed my hand, pulled herself in, and planted my palm on her hip. It passed through the dress, so I caught her by bare skin.

"My dress is immaterial to both of us, and your clothes are immaterial to me. So whenever you take hold of me, do it as if I were naked, because effectively, I am to you." She jerked her hip and slipped free of my grip.

"And put more force into it. Hold me so I can't slip away even when I try. I've got vampiric regeneration and enough subdermal shielding to tank a Tomahawk missile. Hold me like you mean it." I caught her hip again and pulled her against me properly.

"Perfect. Now the other hand." We drilled the pose with the other hand too. Somewhere along the way, I stopped thinking of it as a drill.

"Wonderful." One more kiss, and she finally headed for the door. Holding her by the hip meant she brushed against me with pretty much every step. The elevator ride down doubled as another kissing session. To my surprise, she led the way straight to my car. I braced for commentary about the old Hyundai. Instead she waited for me to open her door, then folded herself in, gathering the dress—which undoubtedly cost more than the car when it was new—so it wouldn't catch. I got behind the wheel and pulled into traffic.

As soon as we were moving, Ophelia lazily dropped her hand into my crotch. It passed through my pants, naturally, and she took a firm hold of my jewels.

"Now. Regarding appropriate distance. As a rule of thumb, if I can't grab your balls, I'm too far away and you should pull me closer. That applies to both standing and sitting." Unauthorized usage: this narrative is on Amazon without the author's consent. Report any sightings. I rolled my eyes.

"You seem awfully into this."

"Well, you said you needed a girlfriend for an evening, so you're getting one. And I'm going to milk it to the last drop." She giggled.

"Also, I love kissing. If you haven't kissed me in over ten minutes, pre-empt. As the good girlfriend I am, I will not-so-gently remind you whenever you take your boyfriend duties too loosely." I had walked into the spider's web, and now she was going to have a ton of fun with me. The strange part was that I couldn't figure out whether I minded. Nobody really wanted to interact with me all that much. Never had. My whole life ran on that setting, and I'd gotten used to it the way you get used to weather.

And now Ophelia was all over me, having, by every appearance, the time of her life. Maybe it was acted. Maybe it was just for the evening. But fuck, it was something completely different. They held the ceremony at a downtown hotel, one of those grand old buildings with marble floors and crystal chandeliers. The parking garages held easily over a hundred cars. This wasn't a ceremony for our squad. It looked like every recruit from the past half year, maybe the whole year.

Ophelia clung to my arm from the moment I helped her out of the car, her hand tracing patterns on my bicep, pressed close enough that she was practically leaning on me, every point of contact skin on skin, because clothes meant nothing to her. We headed in and grabbed drinks, and I couldn't help noticing every set of eyes that tracked us.

"Everyone's staring at us," I murmured.

"That's the point." She smiled up at me, batting her lashes with theatrical innocence.

"I'm the hottest chunk of meat at this party, and everyone can tell. So they stare at me with lust, and at you with envy." She pulled herself closer. I took the hint and kissed her, ignoring the audience. As if I had any shame left to lose. The main ballroom had white tablecloths, silver centerpieces, men in suits and women in gowns. The KSF had spared no expense, or they owned the place. Most likely the latter. Manuel spotted us first. His jaw genuinely dropped.

"Holy shit," he said as we approached.

"O'Connor, you're kidding, right?" Ophelia laughed, musical and charming.

"You're sweet." She extended a hand.

"Ophelia. Peter's told me so much about you."

"Has he?" Manuel shook it, looking dazed.

"He hadn't mentioned you at all until yesterday."

"Of course he hadn't. I was being polite." She chuckled and squeezed my arm.

"These are your squadmates, I take it?"

"Yes." I nodded toward the cluster of them. They'd all gathered, plus-ones in tow. Manuel's girlfriend, fresh off her flight and wide-eyed at the chandeliers. Torres's wife, already assessing the buffet. Kara's brother, looking like he'd rather be anywhere else, which made two of us. Nadia was supposed to be here with her mother. Instead, a tall young man held her close. A boyfriend. Not Josh, though. A different one. She clearly had spares. I ran the introductions. Ophelia was perfect.

Warm, engaging, remembering names, asking questions, all of it with just enough of an edge to stay interesting. Meanwhile her hand never stopped moving. My arm, my back, my shoulder, always in contact somewhere.

"She's intense," Kara muttered to me while Ophelia intercepted a drink from a passing waiter and Nadia's boyfriend stepped off toward the food.

"Yeah."

"You okay with that?" Ophelia already pushed herself back against me. Of course she'd heard. I pulled her in for a kiss obscene enough that everyone around us discovered urgent business elsewhere. That gave me an opening to slip away with her. We didn't make it far. Staff Sergeant Miriam Cross was already marching toward us, dressed like a proper lady, husband on her arm, leading a couple behind her. A man in a stylish suit, and— Fuck. My heart dropped. Why was Francesca here?

Last time I had seen her, I had blocked away her memories, put her soul into a new body, and left her to live a new, better life. The time before that, she got cut in half by Kallisto in a timeline that didn't exist anymore. She was supposed to be living a new life in Italy, far away from kaiju and secret societies and everything else that could kill her. But it was her. Same blonde hair, arranged for the occasion.

Same friendly face she'd always had, just not malnourished, and with eyes not clouded by alcohol overuse. She wore a suit, and low heels. Ophelia leaned up to my ear.

"You look like you're seeing a ghost."

"That's because I am." I forced my face back into order. I'd sealed Francesca's memories of me. She wasn't going to remember me, which was a big part of the whole point of getting her a new life.

"O'Connor," Cross said, sparing Ophelia a short glance.

"Let me introduce your remaining two squad members. Luca Bianchi and Francesca Amoretti. They're transfers from the Italian branch."

"It's a pleasure," I said.

"I'm Peter O'Connor, and this is my girlfriend, Ophelia." Luca shook my hand. Firm grip, easy smile. I activated the levelscanner. Nothing on Luca or Cross. Francesca produced a pop-up: Name: Francesca Amoretti Age: 26 Level: 43 As I looked at her, her eyes flashed with inner light. She was scanning me right back. I released Luca's hand. Francesca offered hers.

"Have we met?" Her voice wavered, just slightly.

"I believe not," I replied with absolute conviction, and shook her hand gently.

"Strange," she whispered.

"I'm having the weirdest déjà vu. Like we've met before... multiple times. I have this image of us riding a bike together."

"That's impossible." I kept my voice calm, even, convincing. One of the few things I was good at was lying. I had put in the hours.

"This is the first time we've met. You're a mage too, right?"

"Something like that." She flashed a smile.

"I heard we'll be two mages in the squad. That's pretty rare."

"Indeed," Cross cut in.

"Your squad deploys shortly, but that's tomorrow's news. For now, get acquainted and enjoy the evening." Francesca's eyes slid to Ophelia.

"Is she part of the squad too?"

"No." Ophelia chuckled.

"I'm a beast of pleasure. I only attend parties and other carnal events." Yeah, Francesca had scanned her too. Age five hundred and something at level ninety-two marked Ophelia as a mortal threat to any mage who peeked. And it was an understatement, because levels didn't say the whole story at ninety-plus, as people at these levels had massive power differences, depending on their builds and out of system powers.

With Ophelia having the high vampire power package off the shelf, and the whole System on top of that, she wasn't a fightable opponent even for an equal level mage.

"It'll be fun having two mages," Luca said with a bright grin.

"Francesca's impossible to keep up with. She's an absolute unit in a fight." Francesca blushed, twirling a strand of hair around her finger.

"Luca's overselling it. I'm not that good." They laughed. Ophelia laughed with them. I couldn't. I'd had no right to touch her memories. Sure, I'd wanted to give her a fresh start, and I had. I'd also never asked her. It was one of the things that I did because I could and because I decided it was right. I slid away, pulling Ophelia along. Ophelia used the retreat as an opportunity to snake up my body and kiss me, which conveniently scattered anyone thinking of following.

When she finished, she stayed up on her toes, face an inch from mine.

"So what's your story with Francesca? Is she your ex-girlfriend?"

"No. Let's just say she doesn't remember me because I sealed away her memories of me."

"Oooh, now that's an exciting story." She studied my face for a moment, then decided not to dig.

"We'll re-examine this topic after significantly more champagne. For now, we've got another incoming problem." She tilted her head to the side. Bearing down on us in a long green dress, ginger hair wrestled into a complex bun, came Katherine O'Connor. My mother. Ah, fuck.