Page 104 of Dukes Are Forever
He just had to master the tremors that lit through him whenever he heard her name.
They fought on, and Malloryn lost himself in the rush of blood and the slam of knuckles to ribs. This time, Obsidian showed no mercy. Malloryn hit the mats once. Then again. No matter how hard he pushed himself, his thighs were soon quivering, and while he saw the next feint coming, he couldn't move in time to avoid it.
Malloryn crashed onto his back, the breath slamming out of him.
"Enough," Obsidian said, leaning down to offer a hand to haul him to his feet.
"Not yet."
"You're exhausted. If you'd been taking better care of yourself, then I would not call this, but I am. You are done for the night."
"I am—"
"If Balfour attacked right now, he would defeat you," Obsidian said. "You never know when the next attack will occur. Don't let your pride push you too far."
Malloryn gritted his teeth as he shook himself off. "Sometimes I regret allowing you into COR."
Obsidian smiled faintly, pouring them both a glass of blood. "I'm sure you do."
Rolling his shoulders, Malloryn accepted the glass.
"Your mind was elsewhere tonight," Obsidian pointed out.
It left him an opening. If he wanted to talk he could choose to accept it, or not. Sometimes he appreciated the fact the assassin didn't pry.
Malloryn drained the glass, ignoring the faint prowling stir of the predator within him. It wanted more blood. "I thought I was prepared for Balfour's games. But he had Jelena kill another girl today." He could see the poor thing draped across Catherine's grave, both a desecration of human flesh and mortal memory. "I don't know what sort of message he's trying to send, beyond a taunt. I thought it meant the female Rogues were at risk—particularly as both girls he's killed look like Gemma—but he's not made a move against them."
"Don't worry about Gemma. She's dangerous enough to protect herself, and he knows he will have to go through me too." Obsidian leaned against the wall. "And maybe there is no message. Maybe he just wants you distracted."
Malloryn dragged a towel over the back of his neck and clung to each end. "That did cross my mind. Which means he's up to something. The dead bodies. The letter on my desk. He wants me to look close to home, rather than watch out for what he's doing."
"Which means you've uncovered something he doesn't want you to know."
"Sir George." He scrubbed at his mouth. "The explosives. The Prometheus Project. I just wish I knew which one."
"Be patient. Now we have a lead, we can explore them. This is what we do."
"I know." But he hesitated. God, it ached to admit it, but Obsidian had been right about pride and its cost. "I am not... at my best, right now."
"You need sleep."
How easy it sounded. He gave a faint, humorless laugh. "I know." The laughter faded as he looked the assassin in the eye. "I can't afford to make a mistake." The cost would be the lives of one of the Rogues, and the thought hamstrung him a little. "If you think I'm about to make a misstep, then tell me. You know him as well as I do. I won't like it, but I can't.... I can't wear the weight of it all alone."
It was the closest he could come to a confession.
Obsidian slowly nodded. "As you wish."
"And I would appreciate it if you wouldn't tell Gemma about this conversation."
"She worries."
Malloryn scrubbed his face with the towel, then cast it aside. "I've noticed. Maybe you can distract her."
It was a clear dismissal. Obsidian grabbed his clothes and headed for the door, but he paused there, one hand on the knob.
"You are not at your best," the assassin said. "I understand. But there is one thing you should know: This doesn't rest solely upon your shoulders. I know you fear for their safety, but you need to trust your Rogues. They are good at what they do, and they know the risks. They've accepted them, because the consequence is a world where Balfour once again pulls puppet strings.
"I never understood why Gemma's loyalty was bound so inexplicably to you. This. This is why. Because Balfour does not give a damn about those who work for him, and you do. You see it as a weakness—that you care for those around you, and he does not. He can be ruthless with his pawns and the cost of their lives is merely an irritation to him. He has more. He can throw dozens of lives at you without a care, until he overwhelms you. It makes him dangerous. But it is also a weakness.
