Page 166 of Remnants: Disruption
She’s looking at me like I’m the savior of her people and the end to her enemies.
No.
The savior ofourpeople and the end toourenemies.
This is my home now, too.
“I no longer wish to accept those who seek to destroy us and our people. Though I do not need the councilors’ approval, I ask that they support me in honoring Hiraeth as councilor.”
She’s met with an immediate, and unanimous chorus of “aye’s.”
A warmth blossoms in my chest. At the acceptance by people who, honestly, shouldn’t yet trust me.
But I suppose I paid for it with blood. Just as Cass had.
“We will begin our offensive strategy momentarily, but I want to clear up another mistake that was made by the late Gareth von Kemp.”
She appears beside me. No fun hand movements. No visible rift. Just there.
“Kiss me,” she breathes and I stand quickly and pull her into me.
Her teeth click against mine like the kiss itself may solve all of our problems.
And it certainly might with the way my legs wobble.
There’s a whisper of remarks I can’t quite hear over the sound of my own libido screaming to tear her clothes off.
But I do hear a smattering of cheers with some applause. A wolf whistle, too.
“Now,” Cass says, pulling back, her smile momentarily hers before it turns back to Bloody Mary’s, “Hiraeth and I are going to pay a visit to DAEMON.”
Chapter 58
Poignant
November 16th, 1030 A.D., Morning
Pay attention to the names, child. Names mean everything.
Unknown
Cass’ heels click along linoleum flooring as we step through the gaudy entrance of DAEMON New Chicago. It looks like an obsidian obelisk hate fucked a granite counter.
Soulless is another word, if I were being nicer.
I glance down at my own civilian attire and wonder, faintly, how we got to this position. How I went from the brunt of NCPD’s Homicide department to Hiraeth.
It feels odd to be wearing my snug boots and joggers again. To wear this peacoat like nothing happened.
Cass pauses at the reception desk and patiently waits for the harried-looking young woman to look up.
Like most people do, she seems a little thunderstruck by Cass. I have no idea if it’s a product of her power or her beauty. Probably both.
“Ophelia Barretti and associates here for Dr. Roberts,” she says, her accent almost nonexistent as she rattles off her fake name.
The woman swallows and I can see her throat bob a little before she nods quickly and pushes at a few buttons on her keyboard.
“You’re early,” she says, almost to herself. “Early is good. Yes, good.”
