Page 34 of The Seeker
“Rhys, there’s no one here.”
He acted as if he didn’t hear her, poking his head in the bathroom before he walked through her bedroom, scanned it quickly, and went back to her office. It was the room that faced the street, the front of the shotgun house lovingly restored by her human landlord who lived next door.
Meera followed the intruder who was violating every inch of her private retreat. He stood before the shuttered front windows as a car drove by, the shadows cut by lines of yellow light.
She stared at him. “I told you. There’s no one here but me.”
“And me.”
Seeing him in her office, surrounded by her carefully collected books and art, turned sorrow and confusion into anger. He’d brought blood and violence to her door, killed a man who needed help. He’d been hounding her, asking intrusive questions, relentlessly searching to unveil her secrets.
Meera had had enough. “Get out of my house.”
“Did you hear me? That Grigori killed a man in front of me.”
“I heard you.” The thought of the dead human made her sick, just like all the violence that soaked their world, but Rhys’s actions had only caused more violence. He healed nothing. “Get out.”
He stepped away from the windows and his eyes drank her in. It was a shadow, just a glimpse, of the hunger she’d felt from the Grigori.
“Meera.” His voice was rough.
She’d been ready for a night in. She was wearing loose cotton pants and a tank top. Her hair was pulled into a bun, and she wore no makeup or jewelry. She felt exposed, stripped of the practiced frivolity she’d worn in his presence.
There was an open bottle of wine in the kitchen and étouffée cooking on the stove. While it was cooking, she’d been ravenous. Now the air smelled of spice and blood. She wasn’t hungry anymore. It would likely be days before she felt like eating again.
Rhys stepped closer. “I did what I was trained to do.”
“I know.”
“He was a murderer. He would have hurt you.”
“No.” She shook her head. “He wouldn’t have.”
“What do you mean, they find you, Meera? Does your father know about this? Your mother?”
“Get out.” She stepped away from the doorway and pointed to the kitchen. “I want you to leave. Now.”
“What is going on?”
He didn’t move, and he did not obey her. Meera Bai, the heir of Anamitra, had utter control in all things, but the arrogance of this scribe threatened to rouse her temper past restraint.
How dare you?she wanted to yell.Do you know who I am?
He did. That was the problem.
Meera raised her eyes and lifted her chin. “Shall I make you leave?” She whispered ancient words under her breath, letting the scribe feel a taste of her power. “You won’t like me if I do.”
His fair skin turned paler, and Meera knew he was feeling the effects of her power. Pain. Nausea. If he didn’t leave her presence, he’d soon be sick.
The arrogant expression fell away from his face. Rhys put a hand on the doorway to brace himself and bent toward her. “Nice trick.”
“Don’t ever underestimate me.”
“I’ve never done that,” he said through gritted teeth, “you infuriating woman.”
“I’m not the one intruding on your privacy. I’ve asked you to leave three times.”
“Do you want me to apologize for killing that man? I won’t do it.”
