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328 pages, ebook
First published August 5, 2021
All artifacts, old and new, started out as everyday items. The coin had started life as just another coin. But at some point, a psychic shockwave had blasted it, staining it, turning it from a coin into an artifact. The more psychic shock an item absorbed, the more powerful the artifact.
Latents didn’t go to court. They didn’t get to plead their case. Innocent until proven guilty was a fucking lie for us. We were unstable, and that was as far as it went.
In the military, I’d been a pawn in someone else’s game. Used. Sacrificed. It was always the way with latents, but I didn’t want that again. And I was good, or trying to be.
“At the dinner, you said something about money not making a man good. What was that all about?�
Kempthorne’s real smile melted all the leftover ice in his glare. “I simply meant you’re worth more than any man there and you needn’t have felt uncomfortable.�
Luckily, I hadn’t been born yesterday, and despite my libido finding Kage Mitchell to be the perfect antidote to my dry spell, the desire to jump into bed with him hadn’t overridden my common sense. Yet.
All of us bunking under the same roof meant secrets were hard to keep—unless your name was Kempthorne. He hoarded secrets like the rest of us hoarded the office pens.
“You used me as bait?�
He frowned. “I don’t know that I’d put it quite like that.�
I laughed, because what else was there to do? At least I knew where I stood. And really, was I even surprised?
Yeah—I should have hated him. For multiple reasons. One of those being he was as hot as sin and had shown no signs of being interested in men, or women. Anything with a heartbeat hardly registered on Kempthorne’s radar, but give him an artifact to riddle out and he was in love. He was so far out of my league, we were on different continents. But none of that mattered anyway because posh guys weren’t my type.
Well, this was fucking awkward.
Throw me into a warzone with psychic assassins, government-sponsored latent-sucking leeches, and I was in the zone, but stick me in a posh car with Kempthorne and I forgot how to brain.
“At the dinner, you said something about money not making a man good. What was that all about?�
Kempthorne’s real smile melted all the leftover ice in his glare. “I simply meant you’re worth more than any man there and you needn’t have felt uncomfortable.�