Vow of the Predator

2

Sera unlocked the door to her old bedroom at the end of the hall. The key turned with a stiff, metal scrape. Inside, dust motes floated in the stagnant air, but the dark wood furniture and floor-to-ceiling bookshelves remained exactly where she had left them five years ago.

Heavy, deliberate footsteps sounded in the corridor.

Sera turned just as Kael stopped in the doorway. He carried her heavy leather trunk in one arm against his chest as if it weighed nothing, holding her duffel bag in his other hand. He stood at the threshold, his broad frame almost completely blocking the ambient light from the hall.

"Where?" he asked.

"By the wardrobe," Sera said.

He stepped inside, his boots silent on the thick Persian rug. The fabric of his dress shirt stretched tight across his back as he bent down, placing the heavy trunk on the floor without making a single sound. When he stood back up, he rolled his sleeves up past his forearms, revealing thick, dark tattoos crawling up his wrists and the flex of corded muscle beneath scarred skin.

"Julian didn't assign you to me, did he?" Sera leaned against the corner of the desk, crossing her arms.

Kael pulled his hands back to his sides, his posture instantly rigid. "Your father gave the order. Not your brother."

"And what were Father's exact words?"

"Keep you alive."

"Nothing else?"

Kael’s jaw twitched. His dark eyes flicked down to her boots, lingering for a fraction of a second before dragging back up to meet her gaze. "He said you were difficult."

Sera let out a short, quiet breath. "Is that all?"

"He said anyone who tries to pull you off the board dies." Kael didn't blink. The flat, detached cadence of his voice made the statement sound like an absolute law of physics.

"Does that include Julian?"

Silence settled over the room. Kael didn't move an inch, but Sera saw the subtle flare of his nostrils as his breathing deepened.

"My orders are to protect you from all threats," he said softly. "Internal or external."

"Stop calling me 'ma'am,' by the way," Sera said, taking a step toward him. "It sounds ridiculous."

Kael’s throat worked as he swallowed. "It’s proper."

"It's fake." She stopped two feet in front of him. Up close, she could smell cedarwood, cold rain, and the faint, bitter scent of gun oil. "Sera is fine."

He stared down at her, the dark intensity in his eyes almost suffocating. He parted his lips, but no sound came out on the first attempt. He cleared his throat lightly. "Sera."

The way he said her name—rough, hesitant, as if it were a fragile object he was afraid of breaking—made a faint shiver run down her spine.

"Better," she said. She gestured toward the ceiling corners. "Is the room clean?"

Kael reached into his inner suit jacket, his fingers brushing against the leather shoulder holster under his arm. He pulled out a sleek, rectangular device and clicked a switch. A tiny green light pulsed on the side.

"I swept the third floor twenty minutes before your car pulled into the gates," he said, placing the scanner on her desk. "No bugs. No cameras."

Sera glanced at the device, then back at him. "You knew which room was mine before I told you?"

Kael immediately lowered his chin, avoiding her eyes again. "I know the layout of the house."

"That wasn't my question." Sera took another half-step closer, forcing him to tilt his head down if he wanted to look away. "Have you been coming in here while I was gone?"

Kael’s hands tightened into fists at his sides, the knuckles turning stark white. A dull, dark flush began to creep up the back of his neck, disappearing under his collar. He didn't answer, but the sharp, ragged intake of his breath echoed loudly in the quiet room.