This is from Caolan's point of view. Subject to change.

*

I count to ten, then mutter something that comes out in a garbled combination of two languages and slip away from the table. David’s hovering in the hallway, and he puts a finger to his lips, then grabs my hand and pulls me down the corridor and up the stairs. It’s not until we’re in the guest suite that he lets me go—and I instantly regret it. His hand in mine felt so right, warm and strong and slightly rough.

“We have to be quiet,” he says in a low voice, “or they’ll hear us.”

I nod, not sure I trust myself to speak. Is he going to declare his feelings?

“I want to talk to you about… us. This… situation between us.”

Yes. I nod again.

“You’ve, ah, you’ve made it quite clear that you’re, ah, attracted to me.”

That’s… an understated interpretation of my feelings for him. I smile. He’s so earnest and focused.

His pretty blue eyes narrow. “Are you laughing— You know what, never mind. I should get right to the point. I’m not the kind of person who can fall in love easily, but you’re very attractive, and I’m open to a sexual relationship with you.”

I blink. Disappointment settles over me. He just wants sex? He hasn’t realized he loves me too?

I suppose I’ll have to wait, after all. And in the meantime…

“Okay.”

It’s his turn to blink, and a cautious expression crosses his face. “Okay? You understand that I’m not committing to any kind of emotional connection—this will just be sex.”

“Yes. That’s fine. I like sex, and I love you, so why would I say no?”

He pinches the bridge of his nose and shakes his head, muttering something I don’t quite catch, then lowering his hand with a sigh. “I should have checked—are we even sexually compatible? As species, I mean. Do you know?”

“Oh yes,” I say happily, then lower my voice when he glances anxiously toward the door. I don’t want to do anything to add to my beloved David’s stress. “The living archive has many stories about sexual exploits between our species.” Just thinking about some of them makes me hard.

“Your archives sound much more fun than ours. Okay. Well… that’s good. But just to reiterate, this is just sex. Not a relationship.”

“Of course,” I assure him. “Just sex.” For now. This will make my wait much more enjoyable, not to mention, it’s much easier to make an emotional connection with someone you’re having regular sex with.

Momentarily pushing aside my anticipation, I ask, “Is this going to cause trouble with the lucifer? I can be discreet, but if I understand the shifter sense of smell correctly, he’ll be able to tell anyway.” I really want to be with David, but not even for him will I endanger the future of my people.

He flushes that pink color I like so much. “No. Uh, he’s okay with it. I mean, he said that given how well our diplomatic endeavors have gone, he’s willing to relax the, uh, fraternization rule.”

I might not be able to smell a lie the way shifters and vampires can, but even I can tell that David did a whole lot of prevaricating there. “I don’t mind if you talk to your friend about our sex life. That’s okay. Although if you’re not comfortable with it, I won’t talk to anyone.”

He closes his eyes briefly. “Let’s work that out later,” he suggests. “We can’t stay away too long, or they’ll know without us having to tell them anything.” He clears his throat, then adds, “So, maybe you could come to my house tonight? If that’s okay.”

If I hadn’t already been in love with him, I would be now. “That sounds wonderful,” I say gravely. “Just one thing.” I reach out, snag the front of his shirt, and pull him into my arms. He fits perfectly, and his mouth is almost level with mine. I only have to bend a few inches to kiss him.

Fireworks explode through me, and my eyes drift closed. His lips are soft and warm and part readily, and his mouth is hot, sending burning lust coursing through me. He wraps one arm around my torso and plunges the other hand into my hair, grasping the back of my skull and tilting my head to suit him better, and I love that take-charge part of him. I love it even more when he grinds against me, the hardness in his pants delightful evidence of how much he wants this… wants me.

In the back of my mind, I’m barely aware of the knock.

“Caolan, are you in— Ohhhhhhhhhh.”

David leaps out of my arms, opens his mouth, then closes it again. A flurry of emotions crosses his face—shock, horror, resignation.

I will make this better for him.

Turning to Alistair, I’m somewhat taken aback by the naked delight in his expression.

“I was going to ask if you knew where David went, but now I don’t have to.” He clasps his hands under his chin. “This is wonderful!”

“You can’t tell anyone,” I order. “This is private between me and David.”

Alistair seems shocked and dismayed, but David smiles gratefully at me. I would do anything for that smile.

“Why?” Alistair whines. “Why would you hide the beautiful shining light of your love? Your relationship should be celebrated. By me.
Date d’envoi de votre message : Aujourd’hui, à 15 h 07
With karaoke.”

The translator spell struggles with that last word, but it doesn’t really matter right now. The important part is making Alistair understand.

“We’re not in a relationship. David and I are going to use each other for sex.”

Alistair’s jaw drops. David moans.

Did I say something wrong?

Based on the slow grin spreading across Alistair’s face, I think maybe I did.

“Ohhhhh,” he says. “Well, in that case, there’s no point trying to keep it a secret. Unless you take crazy precautions, half the team will be able to smell it on you, you dirty birdy.” That last is directed at David, who sucks in a deep breath.

“You should have been spanked more as a child,” he says, but it’s with that exasperated, hopeless fondness most people use when talking to Alistair. I’ve heard the same tone in my own voice when speaking with certain dragons.

Most dragons.

“People say that to me all the time.” Alistair shakes his head, mischief in his eye. “Aidan tried spanking me as an adult, but I liked it too much.”

Ry'Hann se jeta d’un bond derrière le petit lit, évitant de justesse la balle qui vint trouer le mur en bois. Elle porta une main à son oreille en secouant la tête, tentant de faire passer le bourdonnement.

— Eh… C’est de la triche…

Elle osa regarder par-dessus son abri de fortune. Eh bien ! La beauté angélique de la jeune femme la fit grogner d’agacement. Ses ailes éblouissantes étaient d’un blanc immaculé, magique, surtout dans cette mine puante où la crasse était maîtresse. De longs cheveux, tout aussi blancs, cascadaient sur le corps dont les formes étaient mises en valeur par la tenue de combat noire.

— Joli.

L’Ange ne répondit rien, se contentant de rengainer son arme à feu pour la mettre à l’épaisse ceinture qui lui barrait les hanches. D’un geste rapide, prouvant son aisance, elle se saisit de l’épée qui reposait sur son flanc. Ry'Hann la regarda faire, troublée. Elle se mordit la lèvre. Ils ne lui avaient pas envoyé leur plus moche soldat. La Vampire se redressa, amusée par la tactique flagrante de diversion. Elle était réputée pour son goût prononcé pour les plaisirs de la chair, mais de là à désirer un Ange… c’était blasphématoire et contre-nature. Cette approche dérisoire et vaine prouvait à quel point les Anges étaient désespérés.

Elle jeta un regard au décompte. 07 minutes 28 secondes. Ça allait être plus court que prévu. La Puritaine semblait vouloir se la jouer à la loyale.

— Tu sais, Beauté… Sans vouloir te vexer… je ferais pas ça si…

D’un mouvement souple, elle évita la pointe de la lame de l’Ange.

— Eh, t’énerve pas comme ça. J’essaye juste de te prévenir…

Extrait provenant du site web de l'auteure.

Twisting around on the sofa, Luke tucked his socked feet under him and grinned like a Cheshire cat. “I want that one.”

Cameron snorted as Luke practically salivated over the security guy who had just entered the den. Not that he blamed him. Dressed in a black suit that molded to every muscled inch of him, the bodyguard was strikingly handsome.

His dark hair was cut conservatively in a high fade that emphasized his square jaw and high cheekbones. Cameron couldn’t tell what color his eyes were from that distance, but there was an unmistakable intensity to them he could practically feel from across the room.

Craning his neck, Nico turned to follow Luke’s gaze. “Dude,” he said with a snort of laughter. “It’s not a takeout menu.”

Still sandwiched between them, Cameron sank back into the cushions with a stifled yawn. “And he’s straight.”
Of course, he had no way of knowing that. He just liked fucking with Luke.

“Don’t say that,” Nico mumbled, covering his mouth to hide his own yawn. “You’ll just encourage him.”

“Hey!” Luke huffed indignantly, paused, then lifted one shoulder in a half-hearted shrug. “Yeah, okay, that’s fair.”

Everyone laughed.

“What’s fair?” Long fingers threaded through Cameron’s hair from behind, gently urging his head back. “Hey,” Asher murmured as he leaned over the sofa to steal a kiss.

“Hey,” Cameron echoed with a sappy grin. “Luke was just deciding which guy from Oz’s security team he wants to take home with him.”

The fingers in his hair tightened briefly before releasing him, but otherwise, Asher didn’t react to the news. No eye roll. Not a hint of a smirk. He didn’t even glance in Luke’s direction. Cameron’s smile instantly dissolved as he pushed upright and shifted around to look up at him directly.

“Is everything okay?”

Shoving his hands into the front pocket of his jeans, Asher took a couple of steps back and tilted his head to the side. “Let’s get out of here for a bit.”

Frowning, Cameron pushed himself up from the thick, leather cushions and took a few cautious steps. “Yeah, okay.” Asher definitely looked like he could use a breather. “Did something else happen?” As he rounded the sofa, he slowed, his footsteps heavy and measured. “What did Oz—?”

“Cameron.” Asher held his hand out and stared pointedly until Cameron took it. “Just come with me. Please.”

Cameron nodded.

Hands clasped, fingers linked, Asher led him through the den, past the kitchen, and down the short hallway to the base of the stairs in the foyer. As they climbed the staircase to the second-floor landing, the sounds of conversation faded away, leaving only their own muffled steps against the carpet to interrupt the quiet. It wasn’t until they were inside the master suite with the door closed firmly behind them that Asher finally turned to him with a tired, weary expression.

“Are you okay?” Asher asked. Worry and guilt bled into every syllable, and the muscles in his back and shoulders were so tense he hunched forward as he spoke.

It was on the tip of Cameron’s tongue to offer a dismissive, “I’m fine,” but he quelled the instinct and took a moment to really consider the question. He was nervous for Asher, angry on his behalf, and frustrated that he couldn’t do more to help. There was no crystal ball that would let him see into the future, but the way Luke had described it, the next few weeks were going to be a nightmare.

His routines would be disrupted. His life would be subjected to public scrutiny. Every detail of his relationship with Asher would be held under a microscope. So, was he okay? No, not really, but that wasn’t what Asher needed to hear.

“I don’t think everything has really set in yet,” he offered, carefully choosing each word. “I think once we meet with the PR rep and have a plan, it won’t feel so big and scary.”

The right corner of Asher’s mouth twitched, and some of the tightness around his eyes relaxed. “Is that your way of saying you’re freaking out?”
​
Dragging his fingers through his hair, he leaned against the end of the four-poster bed and sighed. “No. It’s my way of saying that I really do think we’ll both feel better once we have a plan.”

Extrait provenant du site web de l'auteure.

The off-limit places turned out to be a library, a large office, and the master suite, all on the upper level. Not being able to enter the library hadn’t stopped Cameron from pressing as close to the glass squares on the French doors as possible to see inside, though. The room was beautiful, a proper library straight from a fairytale with wall-to-wall bookshelves that stretched all the way to the ceiling.

“Would you like to go in?”

Cameron squeaked—actually fucking squeaked like a cartoon mouse—and spun around so quickly he lost his footing and stumbled backwards. The doors rattled in their frame, and he winced when one of the knobs dug into his hip. Heart pounding, throat tight, he lifted his head, his gaze locking with amber eyes so deep he felt as though the floor shifted beneath him.

Never had he experienced such a visceral reaction to mere eye contact, and it did nothing to ease the tightness in his throat or the thundering of his heart. Right then, those eyes sparkled with humor and a hint of mischief. Realizing he should say something instead of just staring like an idiot, he opened his mouth, but every thought he’d ever had abandoned him.

A war started between his body and his mind, and while his brain scrambled to catch up, his body took great pleasure in betraying him. His hands trembled, his legs shook, and a soft gasp escaped as his eyes drank in the sight of the man standing close enough to touch.

Thick, brown hair—wet and limp, likely from a recent shower—fell over a smooth brow. High, defined cheekbones created a perfect symmetry to his angular jaw and square chin, and the shadow of scruff, just a smidgen past five o’clock, added a ruggedness to the otherwise beautiful face.

A thin, white V-neck did little to hide his broad shoulders or muscular chest. The sleeves strained around defined biceps encased in smooth, bronzed skin, and even the fingers wrapped around a black, porcelain coffee mug flexed with a strength that made Cameron’s knees weak. The loose ash-gray sweats hung low on his narrow hips, but the baggy cotton couldn’t completely conceal a pair of thick, toned thighs.

“Take your time,” the stranger teased, his voice a flawless combination of husky and smooth, like raw honey chased by a shot of aged whiskey.
Cameron shivered, even as the heat of embarrassment stung his cheeks. Coughing twice to clear his throat, he pushed away from the library doors. “Sorry, you startled me.” Yes, that sounded reasonable. He held out his right hand. “Cameron Stone.”

The man stared for longer than necessary, a smirk playing at the edges of his mouth. Then he shifted his coffee cup to his opposite hand and took Cameron’s in a lingering embrace that felt too intimate for strangers.

“Asher Dare.”

Cameron had guessed as much, but he figured it would be rude to say so, especially after he’d just been caught checking out the guy. Instead, he settled on saying, “Nice to meet you. Your home is really amazing.” Taking his hand back, he shoved it into the pocket of his dress slacks and curled his fingers into a tight fist. “Why are you selling?”

For a long time, Asher didn’t speak, and Cameron fought not to squirm under the guy’s casual scrutiny. His expression gave away nothing, his features carefully arranged into a mask of neutrality that made Cameron more nervous than outright hostility.

What the hell is he thinking?

“I’m not selling,” Asher finally answered.

“So…the estate sale?”

His T-shirt strained when he lifted his shoulders. “I was bored, and needed a change.” He took a sip of his coffee, then ran his tongue over his full, pink lips. “I needed to make room for something new. This seemed like the simplest way.”

While he tried to match the guy’s indifference, Cameron could feel his brow scrunch together between his eyes. The way he’d said it sounded as though he didn’t really care about the money from the sale. He simply wanted to get rid of a style he no longer found appealing to clear space for new, likely more expensive, things. He made it sound a lot like boxing up a closet full of winter clothes to make room for a summer wardrobe.

“Oh.” Not intelligent or articulate, but it was the best he could do.

“Would you like a tour?”

Cameron couldn’t be sure, but he thought the man might be teasing him. “Thanks, but I’ve already seen everything not restricted.”
​
“You sure?” Yes, there was definitely a teasing lilt to his voice. “We could start with the master suite.”

Extrait provenant du site web de l'auteure.

“No need to play hard to get. You know you want it, or you wouldn’t be dressed like that.”

While true Leelan had been hoping to attract someone to take back to his room for the evening, that didn’t mean he lacked standards or self-respect. “I really think you should leave.”

Too fast for his eyes to follow, the vampire reached across the table, grabbing Leelan’s wrist and squeezing it roughly. “I think you should be nicer—”

“Now, now,” a smooth accented voice interrupted. “Is that any way to behave?”

Leelan’s eyes rounded as the most gorgeous specimen of male he’d ever seen stepped up behind his date and wrapped a hand around the back of the vampire’s neck. Dressed impeccably in a tailored black suit that molded to his broad, muscular frame, the stranger looked like he could have stepped right off of a runway.

No visible tattoos marked his tawny skin. He had no piercings, wore no jewelry, not even a watch. His dark hair was cut short and styled in a conservative though stylish side part. While not really the type Leelan usually went for, he still somehow managed to embody every wet dream Leelan had ever had.

But that wasn’t why he couldn’t stop staring.

“Get your fucking hands off me,” the vampire growled as he struggled against the hold on his nape.
The new guy stroked the side of the male’s neck with his thumb. “Even a limited vocabulary doesn’t excuse poor manners.” As he spoke, his thumbnail grew, lengthening nearly two inches before ending in a sharp point. “Now, apologize.”

While he spoke calmly, danger practically radiated from his very being. The vampire must have felt it, too, because he subsided in his chair and lowered his head in obvious submission.

“I apologize,” he mumbled.

Leelan’s rescuer smiled then, revealing long, lethal-looking canines. “Not to me, fledgling.”

The guy seemed far less inclined to offer Leelan an apology, but he eventually lifted his head just enough to meet his gaze. “Sorry.” He winced when the sharp claw dug into his skin. “I’m sorry for being such a dick.”

The other vampire—Leelan was pretty sure the newcomer was a vampire as well—turned his dark, penetrating stare on him. “Well, it wasn’t very eloquent, but will that suffice?”

Leelan nodded numbly.

“Very well.” Releasing the younger male’s neck, he grabbed the collar of his tank top instead and dragged him to his feet. “Off you go.”

The guy wasted no time getting the hell out of there, and honestly, Leelan really couldn’t blame him. That had been simultaneously the sexiest and most terrifying thing he’d ever witnessed.

“Thank you,” he blurted. “For, well—” He waved his hand vaguely toward the exit. “—you know.”

“Of course.” Lowering himself into the now vacated seat, he reached across the table with another of those oddly chilling smiles. “Sebastian Delgado.”

Leelan took the proffered hand and shivered as a jolt of electricity raced up his arm from the contact. Distracted by the sensation, as well as the misty haze of pure golden light that surrounded the vampire, he lost all train of thought.

He knew he should say something, but by the fae, he couldn’t even remember his own name. Everything in his brain had been shunted to the side, allowing just one word to repeat on an endless loop.
​
Mine.

Extrait provenant du site web de l'auteure.

“Are you sure you’re okay?”

Kol backpedaled when Remington took a step toward him. “Yes, of course,” he said, inching around the other side of the sofa as he did up the buttons on his shirt. He frowned when the shifter followed. “What are you doing?”

He wasn’t afraid, and he had no reason to think the guy would hurt him. That didn’t stop his pulse from racing or his hands from shaking, though. Damn it, nobody had any right to look that good, especially when Kol was dripping wet and about nine shades of embarrassed.

“I just wanted to make sure that you—”

“I said I’m fine,” Kol snapped, then instantly regretted it. Taking a deep breath, he held it for a count of three before releasing it slowly. “Thank you for your concern, but I assure you, I’m not hurt. I should be getting back to my duties. If there is anything else you need to make your stay more enjoyable, just ring the front desk and ask for Kol.”

“Kol.” Remington bobbed his head as he said it, his smooth, deep voice wrapping around it like a caress. “It suits you.”

Since Kol had no idea what to say to that, he just dipped his head and moved closer to the exit.

“Actually,” Remington said, stopping him before he could make his exit, “could you do something about the candles and roses?”

Pausing with his hand on the frame of the open door, Kol glanced around the room, his brow furrowed, and his lips tugging down at the corners. “Would you prefer something different?”

“I’d prefer it if they were gone.” The shifter tucked two knuckles under his nose and sniffed. “It’s a little overwhelming.”

Wet, cold, and confused, Kol’s patience had reached its limit. “Then why did you request them?”

Remington arched an eyebrow at him. “I didn’t.”

“Yes, you did.” Great, now he sounded like a fucking toddler. He cleared his throat and tried to explain in a politer, more mature tone. “I was informed that the guests for the Orion Suite had several requests, including a precise number of vanilla-scented candles and exactly sixty-three white roses.”

Remington’s eyebrow quirked even higher, disappearing into his side-swept fringe. “I don’t know who told you that, but I assure you I didn’t request any of this.”

Great. Just freaking great. He’d nearly set himself—along with the entire room—on fire for nothing. “I apologize for the mix-up, and I’ll see that they’re removed right away.” He tried to rein in his temper and smile, but really, it felt more like a baring of teeth than anything remotely friendly.
“Will there be anything else?”

“Dinner?”

Breathing a sigh of relief, Kol nodded once. “The hotel has several excellent restaurants. Do you have a preference?”

“Nope.” Shoving his hands deep into the pockets of his faded, ripped jeans, Remington shrugged. “Whatever you think I’ll like best.”

He would want somewhere private, probably with low lighting so he wouldn’t be recognized. Cheetah shifter, so probably not a vegan, but fastidious about cleanliness and order.

“Will seven o’clock at Matchstick work?” He smiled a little more naturally when Remington indicated that it would. “Someone will call to confirm your reservation. I’m assuming a table for two?”

The guest list indicated the suite held a double occupancy for the duration of the stay. Kol didn’t know Ruger Raines, but if he went by context clues, he had to guess the man was related to Remington in some way. Maybe a brother. Possibly a cousin.

The shifter arched an eyebrow and gave him a disarming smile. “I guess that depends.”

“On?” He clenched the doorframe more tightly and tried to ignore the way that lopsided grin made his stomach do cartwheels.
​
Remington took another step toward him, his lips parting wider to reveal dazzling white teeth with extended canines. “What time do you get off work?”

The tension was broken only when Zach entered the kitchen, looking sweaty and flushed. He must have been on his morning run.
“Morning, sleepy heads,” he said, ducking in to give Tristan a quick kiss before getting orange juice from the fridge and drinking it.
Tyler watched Tristan as the latter hungrily watched his husband’s throat while Zach gulped down the drink.
“Gross,” Tyler murmured to Nick, who just snorted, clearly used to it.
“Someone must have drunk the smoothie you made for me,” Tristan said, not even trying to look upset about it.
Zach smirked at him and pulled out a kale smoothie from the smaller fridge under the counter. “Here it is, honey.”
Tristan looked crestfallen.

[...]
« Qu'est ce que tu veux dire ? », demanda Alan.
Sa posture se détendit, son expression passant de la suspicion à la curiosité.
« Tu, eh bien, sourit Liam, se rappelant un peu, d'abord, tu es tombé sur moi en titubant et tu as essayé de m'embrasser. »
Les yeux d'Alan s'agrandirent.
« Je suis tellement désolé », dit-il, horrifié.
Liam rit à l'expression d'Alan.
« Ce n'est pas grave, dit-il. Tu as ensuite passé les deux heures suivantes à m'expliquer les différentes techniques de peinture que tu utilise - apparemment, tu es plutôt fier de tes aquarelles. »
Alan le regarda, sa fierté se retirant progressivement. C'était exactement pour cela qu'il ne devait plus jamais boire.

Cinq trucs pour manquer son cours d'éducation physique:
1. Oublier ses vêtements de sport à la maison.
(Ou les laisser dans sa case et faire semblant de les avoir oubliés - personne ira vérifier!)

2. Se casser une jambe.
C'est une solution assez drastique, mais ce sera difficile de contester votre absence au gymnase.
3. Obtenir un papier du médecin qui prouve que vous faites de l'asthme.
Si vous n'en faites pas, commencez à fumer, ça va finir par arriver. *
4. La veille, mangez un plat qui a traîné un peu trop longtemps au frigo ou allez dans un buffet louche.
Vous serez probablement occupé à la toilette pendant tout le cours et personne ne voudra connaître les détails de votre détour au petit coin. Too much information.
5. Ne pas aller en cours, tout simplement.
Personne sauf moi ne vous le dira, mais il est impossible de ne pas obtenir son diplôme d'études secondaires parce qu'on a échoué en éducation physique.

*C'est une blague ! Ne faites pas ça!!

- Tu as besoin que je sois là ? demanda Vasic en refermant la main sur la hanche de sa compagne. Samuel m'a demandé de venir pour un scan des tissus profonds.
- Va faire le scan, dit-elle. Je pense que ça passera mieux s'il n'y a que moi.
Quand Vasic acquiesça, elle leva la tête vers lui et appuya la paume d'une main sur sa joue.
- Merci de m'avoir déposée.
Elle avait bien conscience du privilège qu'elle avait de pouvoir aller n'importe où elle voulait dans le monde.
À peine plus de trois semaines plus tôt, quand elle avait mentionné qu'elle avait envie de goûter une pâtisserie dont elle avait entendue parler et qui s'appelait « mille-feuille », Vasic l'avait emmené dans une boulangerie parisienne.
- Je t'aime.
L'expression du visage de Vasic ne changea pas, mais il tourna la tête pour déposer un baiser au creux de la paume d'Ivy, tandis qu'au fond de lui leur lien vibrait sous l'effet de ses propres émotions intenses.
- Ça, je n'en doute jamais.
Il lui adressa un léger sourire qui donna envie à Ivy de l'embrasser. Elle le fit donc.
- Ivy, je vais nous téléporter au lit si tu n'es pas prudente.
Elle rit à cet avertissement détaché qui tranchait avec la façon scandaleuse dont il lui rendit son baiser tandis qu'il caressait sa hanche des doigts, puis elle le goûta une dernière fois avant de le repousser.
- Cesse de me déconcentrer.
La promesse d'une vengeance brilla dans les yeux de Vasic.
- Je te dis à bientôt, madame Zen.
- Tu peux compter là-dessus, monsieur Zen.
Un sourire au coin des lèvres Vasic inclina la tête vers Lapin.

- Vasic vient de me demander si j'ai le temps de me joindre à lui pour une session d'entraînement. (une requête d'ami plutôt que de Flèche.) Je l'ai invité à nous rejoindre à la place.
-Carrément ! dit Rémi. Je veux le voir escalader.
Après être d'abord repassé chez lui pour mettre des vêtements et des bottes adaptés à l'escalade, Vasic se téléporta au pied de la paroi rocheuse dix minutes plus tard.
Au lieu de lui parler par télépathie - ce qui aurait exclu Rémi de la conversation -, Aden lui annonça à voix haute le temps que Rémi et lui avaient mis à grimper.
-Essaie donc de battre ça !
Les yeux gris comme l'hiver de Vasic brillaient au soleil du soir qui tombait quand il les regarda et leva ostensiblement son bras unique. Aden haussa les épaules, tandis qu'à côté de lui Rémi lança :
- Tu n'as le droit d'utiliser que le strict minimum de télékinésie. Juste assez pour compenser ton bras manquant !
Vasic étrécit les yeux. Il s'écarta de la paroi rocheuse pour l'examiner soigneusement pendant un petit moment, puis il vint agripper sa première prise. Il suffit à Aden de quelques minutes pour constater que Vasic se servait d'une quantité bien moindre de télékinésie que ce que Rémi aurait autorisé.
- Il ne se sert que de ses muscles et de son intelligence.
Rémi siffla.
-Je te l'avais bien dit. Ce mec se déplace comme un félin.
Tandis qu'il observait son ami, Aden songea aux sessions d'entraînement sans fin auxquelles ils s'étaient livrés dans le verger, et aux efforts que Vasic avait déployés pour retrouver son équilibre et sa fluidité de mouvement. La perte d'un bras changeait tout dans la façon de se mouvoir, mais Vasic ne s'était jamais plaint. Il avait tout simplement appris à s'adapter.
Car l'homme qui ne songeait autrefois qu'à mourir avait trouvé de multiples raisons de vivre.
- Tu devient lent avec l'âge, Zen !
À l'apostrophe de Rémi, Vasic jeta un coup d’œil vers eux, et Aden vit l'ombre qui passa sur son visage à la mention de l'homme dont il portait le nom... Un nom qu'il avait choisi de porter. Juste après, il prit un air déterminé.
- Tu veux parier ?
Rémi ricana.
- Est-ce que j'ai l'air d'un attardé ? Il faudrait être idiot pour parier contre un Tk, qu'il soit manchot ou non.
Une lueur amusée s'alluma dans les yeux de Vasic, puis il reprit son ascension prudente et pourtant étrangement fluide. Alors qu'Aden était assis sous les rayons de soleil qui déclinait et regardait son camarade relever un défi qui aurait dû lui être impossible, avec un nouvel ami assis à côté de lui tandis que sa compagne discutait avec les siens propres, il fut envahi d'un espoir étourdissant et du sentiment que s'ouvrait le champs des possibles.

Un homme qui avait gagné l'admiration et le respect d'une femme SnowDancer ne pouvait que recevoir l'approbation de Cooper.
- Judd, dit-il, repérant l'autre homme qui sortait de la tanière.
L'ex-Flèche portait ce qui ressemblait à une tenue de sport. Entièrement noire, bien sûr. Une Flèche ne tournait jamais la page là-dessus, semblait-il.
- Tu as une minute ? demanda Cooper.
- Plusieurs, si besoin. (Judd soutint le regard de Cooper de ses yeux marron pailletés d'or.) Je comptais juste tester le nouveau parcours d'obstacles que tes formateurs ont installé. Il paraît qu'il est bien.
- « Infernal » serait une description plus juste. (Cooper grimaça.) Ou encore « diabolique ».
-Excellent.
Cooper sortit avec l'autre lieutenant et le mena en direction du parcours.