Page 3 of Dead Wrong

I tried to form words, but my mouth was so dry, and my tongue buffeted against my teeth like sandpaper. I managed to coax a string of broken noises, but none of them hardly resembled words. I reached for Bastien, pushing through the agony of my screaming muscles, longing for the warmth of his honeyed skin—but another flood of memories halted me in place:Bastien, standing in the doorway, jacket tossed over his shoulder as he turned away, delivering words that bit into my skin like shards of glass. Tears, hot and plentiful, streaming down my face as I watched Bastien walk away from me, taking with him all but the hollowed-out shell that remained. Emptiness. Then nothing at all.

I was wrong. This Bastien was not mine, after all. At least, not anymore. If only I could remember why.

“Keep breathing,” Bastien repeated, hands drifting from my face to my chest. His fingers sunk into the skin, leaving trails of burning heat. “He’ll need a few more minutes before we can move him, Lorelei. But he should be ready soon.”

The woman huffed, her heels scraping against the floor as she straightened. “Fine. I’ve got some calls to make anyway. Get him out front as soon as you can. We’re burning daylight.”

Her clattering steps faded as she exited. Bastien let out a sigh, his chest deflating and shoulders sinking inward like a sagging foundation. He looked exhausted; the usually smooth angles of his face pulled taut with a frown, and deep bruise-like patches bloomed under his eyes. His fingers moved along my chest once again, and I struggled to lift my head enough to catch the motion of his hands. Bastien moved slowly, deliberately, peeling away layers of a thin linen that covered every bit of my body that I could see. As he pulled a long strip away, I noticed the faint green aura coming from his hands.

Was that magic? It couldn’t be. Bastien was a mortal?—

“I know you have a lot of questions.” Bastien’s voice was low, and he looked away when he spoke, like he was afraid someone was watching him. “But I cannot answer them. Not yet. For now, know this: We’re searching for your sister. She’s not been seen since the day of your death.”

My death? What was he on about? I wasn’t dead….

Flashes of memory churned in my mind like roiling waves, but much like water, they slipped through my grasp. Grunts dug their way up my parched throat, formless words tumbling over my lips but finding no purchase. I needed him to explain. Explain what happened to me. Hell, explain justwhoI was. The turbulent nature of my mind shielded the knowledge from me. But I couldn’t manage any of those requests, aside from gibberish noises. So, instead, I was forced to watch the man remove strips of translucent material from my body.

“That woman—Lorelei—was hired by your mother to find your sister,” Bastien continued, still not meeting my gaze. “The Madame will not rest until Lenny is found.”

Lenny. Another name that summoned a fountain of memories. My head ached as the torrent of scenes broke free from the roiling sea of confusion, drowning me in melancholia so heavy I wasn’t sure I’d be able to escape. My life sliced into bite-sized pieces that ricocheted through my consciousness, exploding like fireworks at each collision:Lenny—Lynette—my sister, my twin, her face round with a youthful glow, staring at me across a table stacked high with scrolls of parchment. She mouthed words I couldn’t recall, her brilliant emerald eyes shining with dew. Then we were dancing, her hair down and the curve of her body fuller than before, her face obscured by a mask embellished with glittering sapphires in every shade of the rainbow. We glided along a polished marble floor, captivating all who would dare to steal a glance at the Greene twins. The ballroom shifted then, leaving us alone in an empty sitting room, watching the dwindling flames of a fire. I held her pale hand in mine as she wept, the source of sorrow lost among the endless waves that battered my mind.

“Lenny….”

Her name was fire in my throat, but I spoke it anyway.

Bastien paused, his dark eyes finding mine at last. “Are you with me now, Tobias?”

I managed a nod. But the light around him was dimming, the edges of my vision darkening until Bastien’s face was a halo against the encroaching shadows. Bastien leaned in closer, bringing with him a familiar scent of spice.

“Good. We’ve got work to do.” He looked back over his shoulder before his eyes returned to me. “And once Lenny is safe, I’m putting you right back in the ground where they found you.”

“Another cup?”

Bastien held up the half-empty coffee pot from across the kitchen, giving it a gentle shake. Sunlight streamed through the open, floor-to-ceiling windows, washing the cherrywood floors in patches of sepia and honey. The heat of summer had finally loosened its grip on the city, and the first cool breezes of autumn drifted in, caressing my exposed skin. Gooseflesh rose across my arms, so I pulled the sleeves of my robe down further.

“That’s okay, love. If I have any more, I’m afraid I’ll burst through my skin. And while it would be incredibly entertaining, Mother would not see the humor in my ruining her soiree.”

Bastien filled a mug for himself, returning the pot to the burner before sauntering back to where I waited in the breakfast nook. My spare silk robe hung from his body like a sheet of moonlight, concealing far too much of his warm umber skin. The urge to peel it off of him left me leering. I would do it slowly. Deliberately. I would feast on all the delicious places hidden underneath the fabric.

He planted a kiss on my forehead, dulling the ravenous thoughts left unchecked, then returned to his seat across the table, his hands cupped around the steaming mug. My mind must have been singularly focused because all I could imagine were those hands wrapped around other things. But the morning was already wearing thin, and I could not afford to be late.

Not when it came to Mother.

“Are you still hungry?” Bastien eyed me from over the rim of his cup, his deep golden eyes bright with amusement. He was always looking at me this way. Like he was in on a joke that I didn’t understand. Not cruel—never cruel—just amused.

“Hmm?” I looked down at the half-eaten breakfast on my plate.

Bastien’s grin was tantamount to an act of seduction. “You were staring at me like you wanted to gobble me up. Should I make you another egg?”

“Really?” I mused, trying to play coy even though my voice spiked an octave. I cleared my throat, then continued, “That can’t be true. I would never be so lewd at the breakfast table. I adhere to a strict moral code, you know.”

“Mhm.” Bastien cocked an eyebrow, which sent a biting heat prickling across the nape of my neck. Suddenly, the cool breeze didn’t feel quite as refreshing. “And where was this moral code when it came to last night’s activities?”

“Completely absent,” I admitted, the rush of blood to my face far more successful in rousing me than the coffee had been. “But I don’t remember hearing any complaints.”

“There was no chance to complain. You kept my mouth so busy.”

My face was no longer the destination of the blood pumping frantically through my veins. Bastien sipped his coffee, a smug smile curling his lips around the rim of the mug. He was especially wicked in the mornings, and it seemed today was no exception. Not that I minded, of course.

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