DAGE'S POV
"Working." I glanced around the rock wall surrounding the quiet cavern—only Charles worked busily on his computer, his blonde hair tied at the nape and out of the way.
"This is almost an empty room," she said, grinning at Charles. She gave him a tiny finger wave that pretty much ensured an excellent Christmas present from the computer expert. He gave her a half smile and mock salute before turning back to the console. Did Charles just smile? I did not know the guy had teeth.
I tweaked Jane's pert nose. "Yeah. We just use this room for teleconferences." Maybe the chamber was too stark for a little girl. I do not want anything to scare her. Ever.
"What's a telie, a teliconf …" She pursed her tiny mouth in question.
I grinned. "It's like a telephone but with a screen." I explained.
"Like TV?" she asked as a pair of curious eyes focused on me.
"Yeah." Except the monsters on television were not real. I fought the frown that wanted loose. Jane needed to believe in the security and safety of her world.
"Are you worried about the war?" she asked, her small hands clasping together.
The frown won. "The war? It's over, sweetheart." I said, trying to smile amist the frown.
"No." She shook her head, patting her prized picture. "Not that one. The one thatbis coming."
Awareness and something close to dread slid through my body. My muscles tensed. "You know about that one?" I asked as my eyes widened in surprise.
"Yeah." She frowned, her pretty blue eyes darkening as she met my gaze.
Regret filled me now. "I'm trying to keep it from happening." I assured her.
A wise smile much too old for her young face slid across it. "I know. But, it's gonna happen and we need to fight." She said.
I shook my head. "I'll fight, sweetheart. You won't need to."
She put both of her warm hands against my face, effectively immobilizing the me. "I will need to. You know that, Uncle Dage. You do." She said in a serious tone not expected from a four year old.
God. Not while I drew breath. Fate was in for a beat-down in this case, and I needed to get back to work. Punching a code on my earpiece, I waited. "Jake? Meet me in the rec room, we need to plan." Who would've thought my youngest, wildest brother would become the most dependable—at the moment at least. What the hell was his world coming to?
LOGAN'S POV
After ending the call, I nodded to a subordinate to flip off the screen. Long nails clicked against the keyboard until only overhead fluorescents lit the underground control room. A black screen covered the rock on one entire wall with two consoles on either side—sterile and giving no clue as to his whereabouts. The thick Minnesota mountains provided safety from interlopers, enemies, and the sun.
I turned toward the door and swept into a long hallway furnished with priceless Picassos the world didn't know about. Fucking Kayes. The bastard was only fifty years older than I am.
The plush white carpet muffled my heavy footsteps, and I inhaled the pure lilac scent I had infused into the air each morning. Almost as good as being aboveground or even outside. Almost.
Kayes had no right for such superiority—most of the nonhuman creatures alive today were about the same age. Our ancestors had procreated quickly during the war, knowing that death was likely and a possible treaty prohibiting contact with humans on the horizon. Prohibiting contact with potential mates. Human ones, anyway.
I grinned as I opened the door to my private office. Not that I had adhered to the treaty. Proof of my defiance lounged in a thick leather chair watching an ultimate fighting championship.
My son flipped off the television and turned to face me, deep purple eyes anything but interested. "You wanted to see me?" He said, boredom and just a hint of insolence coated the words.
I straightened my spine, shutting the door. I walked around my massive onyx desk, putting myself in the position of power with my chair raised. "Yes." The bubbling of my six-foot long tropical fish tank failed to provide its usual distraction from its place against the side wall. "I understand you nearly killed Justin during training yesterday."
He shrugged a large shoulder. "So?" He rested one broad hand on the arm of the leather chair, relaxed.
The casualness sent a shaft of irritation through me. Damn kid could at least pretend to be in fear of his father. His ruler. I studied my young son, noticing the way the black jeans and white shirt gave him an older, more dangerous aura than a fifteen-year-old should have. He'd tied his thick black-red hair off his neck, throwing the sharp white planes of his face into prominence. His coloring was muted, more subtle than most. I tried to hide all emotion from the boy, knowing any weakness would be instantly exploited.
He rolled his eyes. "He's weak." He said in a casual tone.
I fought a chill at the nearly blank look in those unusual purple eyes. Most of my people had purple eyes, but Collins' were a purple almost mixed with green. Unnerving. Eyes should be purple, red, or black. Not the color of the hottest of fires, the green at the bottom of a polluted lake. "True. But, you're going to lead him someday." I said.
"Then he should learn to fear me now." Not by one decibel did the inflection change.
I cleared his throat. "Also true." I reached forward and shuffled some papers on the desk. "I also wanted to discuss the fact that another woman has gone missing from St. Paul." I informed him.
"Really?" Black eyebrows lifted. "St. Paul's a big city, father." He said.
Damn if pride didn't infuse him with his siring of the little sociopath. "Yes. But we need to keep a low profile for a while. Not that I'm accusing you, son. But—"
"Accusing me of what, father?"