The Aeon Chronicles: The Aeon Chronicles, #2

Tut, tut, child! said the Duchess. Everything’s got a moral, if only you can find it. 

—Chapter 9, The Mock Turtle’s Story

Alice’s Adventures in Wonderland

-Lewis Carroll

The gold-engraved pin barred a perplexing emblem. At first glance, it looked like an owl. The wings’ tips were down, and the crown was pointed, hovering over the ‘A.’ Sophie tilted her head, realizing it was her king’s emblem, upside down. This was a symbol of the rebellion, a symbol of treachery.

Aalok’s signet.

The Aeon Chronicles

BOOK I

1

ANGEL EYES

Death. It’s something you can’t outrun, but Claire sure as hell tried to. She focused on the remnants of the crumbled lighthouse ahead, the pounding of her feet on the wet sand, and her heavy breaths. A morning run on the beach was her reality. Not the dream from last night, not the images swirling around in her brain. No matter if she thought she had died, thought somehow she had been evaporated to dust by a bright light; she was alive.

Her racing heart and the sweat beading down her back proved her existence. Still, she couldn’t ignore how vivid and real the end of the dream had felt. Even when her eyes had flung open to the sound of her phone’s alarm, the frightening images still lingered.

Claire! her best friend’s voice called behind her—another confirmation she wasn’t dreaming.

Taking in labored breaths of the thick salty air, Claire slowed her stride. She glanced over her shoulder, one hand on her hip, another on her chest and spotted Laura.

Laura cursed faintly, flinging her flip-flops off her feet. She jogged toward Claire, dressed in her usual skintight yoga pants and an off the shoulder cropped sweatshirt.

Hey, Claire said.

Don’t hey me, Laura snapped. What the hell are you doing?

Running.

Running?

Walking swiftly?

You were in a full-blown sprint, Laura fussed, wiping the sweat from her brow. I beeped the horn, but you just kept going.

Where’s your car? Claire glanced over Laura’s shoulder, finding her freshly waxed cherry-red sedan. It was the latest model, equipped with the convenience of a self-driving option, which Laura often used to sleep on the way to work.

The street, dummy, and I’m illegally parked. If some stupid kid scratches the door with their hover scooter again, I’m gonna have a bitch fit.

Oh yeah. Filling your lungs with toxic chemicals will totally calm you down, Claire chided, watching Laura smack a pack on her palm. Eighty percent of smokers die from—

Gosh, mom, Laura mocked, putting a cigarette between her lips. I didn’t know it was Lecture Laura Thursday. She wrinkled her nose at the incoming tide. At least the strawberry scent will cover up the smell of fish piss.

Why do you live by the beach again?

To annoy you, Laura mumbled through the cigarette in her mouth. She lit it, taking a long drag as if it was her last before an execution. And I’m not ready for Daddy to cut the cord, so a salty toilet at a distance is manageable.

You know it does this after a storm. The smell will roll away in a few days. Claire reached down to catch the plastic wrapper that Laura had carelessly let dance away in the wind. And it wouldn’t be so dirty if people would stop throwing trash in it.

Don’t start with that hippie crap. You sound like those damn protestors. ‘Stop global warming! Save our oceans!’ Laura said, pounding the sky with her fist. It’s so annoying. I mean, not that I agree with the government taking away the right of people to swim in shit.

Claire glanced up at the sky to the hum of a drone flying above. It’s getting pretty bad. She ignored the fact that her face was on a screen in real time at a government facility. Think the state will issue a curfew like last time?

Pfft. If they do, they’ll have to lock me up in the patty wagon with the tree huggers. I have plans tonight.

With?

Depends on who’s at the bar. Laura grinned, taking another drag.

Claire shook her head at her friend’s promiscuity. Do you have to work today?

Duh.

So why are you here so early? Claire glanced at the digital screen on her sports watch.

Seven a.m.

You always sleep in until nine, Claire noted.

We need to talk about the flight, Laura said. I know I said we were going with Clint in the private jet, but he’s gotten super clingy. I need my space. Joey said he would and since I haven’t banged him yet, he offered to fly the Cessna. I know what you’re going to say, but there’s no reason to . . .

Laura’s words became distant until Claire could hear nothing but the lapping waves and a muffled voice echoing in her mind.

In the dream, the ocean reflected a crimson moon, making the sea appear as if filled with blood. The noise of the tidal wave was steady, like the static hum from the inside of an aircraft. It tried to drown out the words from her angel’s lips, but she heard them, held onto the hope in his words.

For I am yours . . . he had said, squeezing her arm gently.

Claire’s lips trembled as she squeezed the angel’s arm back, gazing into his bright blue eyes. They were a sea of turquoise, a sea of calm.

And you are mine, her dream-self answered.

Claire! Laura snapped her fingers, her irritated face coming into focus. Earth to Claire. Hello?

Claire sucked in a sharp breath. Yeah, right. Next Friday. I wrote it on the calendar.

Laura put her hands on her hips. Why the hell are you so spacey?

Claire hesitated to answer, digging her toes in the sand. Just a bad dream last night.

Laura’s voice softened. About your father?

No. It was about the wave and that angel guy.

Laura cocked a brow. Oh, the angel guy.

Don’t start.

The handsome hooded blonde again. Laura bit her lip, grinning.

Don’t look at me like that.

Laura threw up her hands. Hey girl, it’s you who’s dreaming him. Although, if he showed up in my dream, I would have made sure it had a happy ending.

That’s because your mind is perverted.

Says the nun who hasn’t dated anyone in three years.

Claire shrugged. I’m looking for something serious.

And how do you expect to find Mr. Right if you don’t date? I mean you won’t even give anyone a chance to get to know you.

Anytime I let someone close they only disappoint me.

You mean when you tell them you see stuff.

I don’t see stuff. Claire lowered her voice and glanced over her shoulder. She was thankful the beach was vacant but took notice of the red blinking light on the surveillance cameras posted along the street. She knew they could hear her, that the all-seeing eyes watched her every move.

Claire hated hiding the truth, especially from her best friend, but she didn’t want to be flagged again. Seeing stuff. Imagining things that weren’t there. That kind of talk put you on a list that required you to get help or be sent to a therapy facility. She couldn’t go back on the drugs; she couldn’t go through any more sessions, dredging up painful memories of her past. She would keep up the lie. She would pretend, like always, that everything was okay.

I just have no interest in dating, Claire said casually. It’s overrated.

Claire, if you’re still upset about, well you know, what happened that night, you can talk to me.

I don’t need your ‘first-time’ talk again, Claire grumbled. Or any mention of my birthday.

I’m just saying I’m totally on your side. Taylor was a prick. I mean, I would know. I slept with the guy.

You slept with him?

Yeah, a week after you did.

Claire crossed her arms. While I was in physical therapy?

What? I was curious after you told me he had a big—

Don’t say it.

"You totally exaggerated by the way. But you haven’t seen enough weenies to know the difference, so I forgive you. Let’s see. Who is someone I haven’t slept with? Oh! Mark."

Mark. The guy who works at the convenience store and gives you free cigarettes and booze if you flash him?

Yeah, he’s kinda cute and obviously generous.

I’m starting to question your morals—and taste in men.

Everyone has faults, Claire. We can’t all be perfect little angels like you.

At least I’m not a matchmaker from hell.

This is about you Claire, not me. Look, I get it. Really, I do.

Get what? That I don’t want to date someone that’s shallow?

No. Laura took Claire by the face and smushed her cheeks as if she was the cutest baby in the world. That no one can compare to your cutie, pootie, mubby, wubby.

Stop. Claire giggled, swatting Laura away. It was nothing like that.

Sure it wasn’t.

It was like—like he understood me, Claire continued. Like a soulmate. I can’t explain it.

Oh. So you were dreaming of your soulmate. The perfect guy saving you as the world comes to an end! Laura threw out her hands as if she was in a dramatic play, shouting to the sky. One last kiss so intense that now you must find your eternal love before it’s too late! She laughed and turned back to Claire. Sounds to me like the perfect end to an erotica novel.

How would you know? You don’t even read.

Claire you can’t ignore the reaction your body makes when you think of this hooded dream guy.

What reaction?

You’re blushing.

Claire shrugged. My face is hot.

Are other places? Laura shot a glance at Claire’s groin.

You and your one-track mind. Claire sighed as an alarm buzzed against her wrist. She tapped the screen on her watch and swiped to the calendar app. I have to get going. What time are we leaving next week? There are a few things I need to do for Mom before Vegas.

You didn’t hear me, did you? We leave tomorrow.

Claire’s gaze snapped to Laura’s. Wait—what?

I’m sorry, okay? I had to change the date because next week I have tickets to that concert and  . . .

Claire narrowed her eyes, daring Laura to finish her sentence. She was always changing plans, always making up excuses.

And next week was full.

Oh my gosh, Laura. You told me you had this booked six months ago.

Something else you and I are opposites about. You, Claire, are organized. I, on the other hand, am a procrastinating hot mess. I told you I planned to book it. I never said I did.

How many miles away are we from the city?

Well, because of my last-minute lateness, I got us an upgrade on the strip, Laura chirped. A hotel called and left a voicemail, so I called back.

A hotel called you? Like a real person? Not a bot?

Yep.

Great, so you’ve been scammed. Claire let out a frustrated breath. "When we get there we won’t even have a place to stay. Laura, you are the maid of honor and you were supposed to plan the bachelorette weekend. Not me. And yet here I am making sure that everything is ready for Jenna when we’re not really friends. She’s never liked me. She just needs an extra body in a dress for pictures because Wayne has five groomsmen."

Would you stop bitching and listen? So this guy I spoke to on the phone, Mal, holy hell, Claire. His voice was—Laura grunted and bit her lip—so sexy. I’m gonna ask for him when we get there. I think I can get us some VIP passes to Chippendales.

Which hotel?

It’s a surprise. Laura widened her eyes, flailing her fingers as if something magical was about to happen.

I hate surprises, Claire grumbled.

I know. Laura wiggled her brows and turned around. I’ll see you in the morning. I don’t have to say what time because you’re always like an hour early or something.

What’s wrong with being punctual?

What the heck does—you know what? Never mind. Joey said we’re taking off at seven.

Is your dad okay with your flyboy taking the Gulfstream?

Laura shrugged her shoulders. Dad won’t know.

Laura—

Chill out. He’s going out of town. We’ll be back before he will.

I really wish you wouldn’t do things behind his back like that.

Gosh, mom. I guess it really is Lecture Laura Thursday. Laura rolled her eyes, combing her fingers through the bleached highlights in her hair. Meet me for lunch. I’m craving nachos. No wait, a hot dog with chili and onions, oh and some cheese fries.

I’m surprised that’s the only weeny on your mind.

Claire. Laura laid a hand to her chest, pretending to be in shock. Did you just make a crude joke?

Don’t get used to it, Claire smirked. She bent over, stretching, readying herself for another sprint.

‘Bout time I started rubbing off on you. Laura shoved Claire’s shoulder playfully as she straightened.

You’re not. And about lunch, Mom wants you to come over and try her new crab cake recipe. She wants to get it right before the guests arrive.

You didn’t tell her?

It was only a warning email. Two months behind doesn’t mean foreclosure.

I told you Daddy would help. Let me ask him.

Claire shook her head. I can’t. And I can’t take any more of your allowance. I’m going to talk to the bank, see if I can work something out. Get a second job if I have to.

Yeah, as if you need another excuse to give me when I ask you to go out.

So, yes to lunch? Claire asked.

I do love some crab cakes. Real crab?

Yes—Claire laughed—real crab. Although, I don’t get how you hate the smell of the ocean but love seafood.

Crab smells like crab, not fish piss. I’ll be there. Although a hot dog did sound good.

Hot dogs are so bad. You do know what they’re made of don’t you?

But they taste so good. Laura licked her lips, acting as if talking about them was turning her on.

See ya later, deviant. Claire laughed, hugging Laura’s neck. She turned and jogged toward the lighthouse.

Like I know what that means, but I’ll take it as a compliment, Laura called. Just remember, weenies are good too! Weenies are good!

Claire couldn’t help but smile at Laura’s crudeness, but she didn’t look back. She increased her stride, thinking of the angel with the turquoise eyes that she couldn’t shake from her mind.

2

KITTEN CALL

Aven Crey lazily opened his eyes, hissing at the metal cuff biting into his sore wrist. He cursed under his breath, vaguely remembering the night before. Falling asleep after the act was never good. There would be no way to make a clean break now.

He glanced around his sleek and shiny modern bedroom, looking for his clothes. His pants were inside out on the hickory hardwood floor, his button-down shirt tossed over his black leather chaise lounge.

Shifting his naked body, he sat up, attempting to squeeze his hand free from the vice, but the cuff was locked tight. Hearing the whoosh of the toilet flush from his bathroom, his eyes widened. Snapping his head toward his nightstand, he set his gaze on his cell phone, laying under a pair of bright pink lacy underwear. He reached, sliding his fingers across the four empty liquor bottles and cringed as one of them slid to the edge.

Twisting under and around his hanging arm, Aven carefully picked up his phone and texted 911. The water from the faucet was running, so he still had a few seconds. He slid his phone under the sheets and pretended to be groggy as a naked woman stood at the threshold of the bathroom door.

I wanted to let you get some rest so you could play, she said, tracing her body with slender fingers.

Aven shook his wrist, jingling the cuff against his poster bed. Good cop, bad cop?

Uh huh.

I’m guessing I’m the bad cop?

Oh yes. Very, very bad. The redhead sauntered to the end of the poster bed and slid her hand down the metal brace.

Then maybe you should punish me. Aven motioned her to come to him with his finger. He had no intention of sleeping with her again, but for his plan to work, he would have to play her game.

The redhead crawled onto the bed and sat, legs straddling him. As she leaned down, her fiery curls tickled his face. Ignoring the pain in his left wrist, he wrapped his right hand around the back of her thigh and squeezed, letting out a throaty growl.

The redhead moaned but flinched as the bedroom door flung open and slammed against the wall.

What the hell? a girl with blonde hair and fiery blue eyes screeched.

Katharine! Aven shoved the redhead off of him. It’s not what you think!

Who the hell are you? The redhead glared.

Who the hell am I? The blonde’s face twisted as she took a step forward. I’m his wife, you stupid bit—

Whoa, whoa, whoa! Honey, just—just calm down. Aven’s free hand was up in the air as if in surrender to her rage.

Calm down? Calm down? Screw you and your whore! The blonde stomped forward and seized a red stiletto on the floor. She reared back, flinging it over her head. Aven dodged the flailing object, and it smacked the black leather headboard an inch from his face.

You’re married? The redhead twisted to him. When did that happen?

Secretly. Can’t have it in the tabloids. Aven laughed nervously. But we separated.

Separated? You lying scum! The blonde picked up the other high heel and chucked it at Aven but missed him, knocking over the lamp on the nightstand.

Snatching up her skimpy grey leopard dress from the floor, the redhead slipped it on. She headed for the door as the blonde continued to scream, throwing Aven’s clothes.

A year of counseling! Just wait until he hears about this! You dirtbag! You low life piece of– She growled like a wild animal. What about the kids?

The redhead whipped around again. You have kids?

Aven simply shrugged his shoulders. Still waiting for the DNA test to get back.

The blonde lifted Aven’s dress shoe in the air, aiming for the redhead who held up her hands. Ma’am calm down. I’m not his mistress.

The blonde walked right up to the girl, white knuckling the shoe, coming inches from her face. She smiled as if daring the redhead to blink. I think you should go unless you want me to shove this where the sun don’t shine.

The redhead slipped out the door, and the blonde ranted on until the front door to Aven’s mansion slammed shut. As if a director had said cut, she tossed Aven’s shoe to the side and smoothed back her hair.

Geez, Kitten. Where did that come from?

Kitten combed through her ash blonde hair, twisting the wavy long strands up into a messy bun. You know, Aven, I think after all these years I’m finally realizing I’m too good at acting to be some playboy’s assistant.

Is that what you tell your friends? You’re a playboy’s slave?

Slave? Kitten let out a laugh. Don’t flatter yourself.

I didn’t, you did.

Why didn’t you take her to a hotel?

I thought she was a prostitute.

You went looking for someone on the Vegas strip? That’s stupid. You could catch something.

Haven’t yet. Courtesy of our brilliant scientists at InfiniCorp.

Solace is still going through clinical trials. They can’t be sure their miracle drug keeps you immune to diseases. When they say 99-percent chance that leaves a 1-percent chance. Kitten huffed. What were you thinking?

I was thinking of a good night’s rest, and it’s the one thing I haven’t tried.

So what? You cruised the strip and just picked the one that looked the least strung out?

I planned to eeny, meeny, miney, mo, but when I pulled up they were fighting like rats as if I was the last stale Cheeto on Earth. I think I’ll go there more often. It was way too easy.

Aven.

The redhead, Officer Reed, pulled out her badge halfway down the strip. I pulled over, turned on the lights. It didn’t take long for her to recognize me.

And you brought here because . . .

"She wanted to see my massive mansion."

Why didn’t you tell her no?

Because she-devil in the backseat insisted with icy fingers wrapped around my throat. Aven winced at the sting of his wrist and cursed under his breath. Help me out of these cuffs will ya?

Just because your demon expects you to sleep with a new girl every night doesn’t mean you have to.

Aven watched as Kitten shuffled to the nightstand and situated her tattered college sweatshirt hanging off her shoulder. It was from her own one-night stand years ago, one she had confessed to Aven. But unlike Aven’s nightly rendezvous with strangers, Kitten’s sexual encounters were few and far between.

Says someone who’s had ten hours of beauty rest without a single nightmare, Aven remarked.

Thanks to you it was only eight hours, Kitten grumbled. She bent over and picked up the lamp, sitting it back in place. Curling a lip, she slid the lacy underwear away with an empty liquor bottle. She looked around the nightstand and behind it, shoving the empty bottles left to right before kneeling on the floor, searching around the bed. When she rose from her scavenger hunt, she wasn’t holding a shiny key like Aven hoped.

This is the only part I like about acting like your crazy ex-wife. Kitten sighed, smiling at the cherry-red stilettos.

Ah, yes. As if you don’t have enough shoes in your closet from my little escapades. Aven grinned. He thought about all the times Kitten had come to his rescue. Five years they had been doing this. He would sleep with a stranger and message her if he had fallen asleep. This accidental doze off had been the fourth time now.

Just my size, Kitten cooed, smoothing her hand over them as if they were her precious pet.

Key, Kitten, Aven urged, jingling the chain.

Kitten put the shoes down. What would you ever do without me? 

Aven followed her gaze as it traveled to the sheet partially covering his bare hips and moved his hand out of reach. Kitten huffed, gripped his hand, and jerked it toward her. The lock clicked, setting him free from his steel bond.

Rubbing his raw wrist, Aven glanced up with a grin. The better question is, what would you ever do without me?

Get dressed. You’re late and Vincent’s already asking me where you are. Should I tell him it’s because of your drunken night with the newbie cop or because you had to get fitted for a new suit for the charity ball? She asked, holding up her phone.

New suit sounds good, Aven said, interlocking his fingers behind his head. Add a grand to your account. Get something nice for the gala.

Buying my forgiveness again?

One of the perks of the job isn’t it? Aven winked and stood, wrapping the sheet around his waist.

Kitten blocked his way to the bathroom, not budging an inch.

Aven sighed. This isn’t morning wood.

Aven, Kitten said in a motherly tone while putting her hands on the doorframe. I can’t come running to your rescue every time you text 911. It’s not fair that I have to wake up early just to run over here and act like some deranged mental patient off her meds you knocked up a year ago.

I thought you were my wife? Aven smirked, crossing his arms. His smile further spread as he flexed his muscles, finding Kitten staring at his bicep.

She averted her fixed stare. No, we’re separated.

Aven tilted his head, thinking, Maybe I’ve been a tad selfish.

Kitten had always been there for him. It didn’t matter what time of the night he called her, whether it was for a ride home or whenever he got into a situation with one of his encounters. Their deal had never included that she come to his rescue, only that she work for him as his personal assistant. It was only in the past few months that these rescues had become frequent.

You’re right. It’s not fair. How about we make a new code, an acronym for ‘help save me from this clingy one-night stand.’

The old one is fine. Just be more sparing with it, okay? I have a life too.

Is that so? I could have sworn your life revolved around mine.

Kitten slit her eyes. Conceited much?

So much. May I pass, oh dear wife of mine?

Kitten dropped her hands and stepped to the side.

Thank you, honey, Aven said, sweetly, kissing her quickly on the cheek. He halfway closed the bathroom door, making his way to the toilet and moaning in relief.

Kitten rolled her eyes before bringing them back to her phone to check her email. I’m picking up your new suit from the dry cleaners. I’ll text you your appointments for the day. And for once in your life, try to be one time.

Aven peeked his head out the door. Yes, sweetie.

Don’t sweetie me. I really don’t like you right now.

Don’t lie. You love me.

Oh yeah? See if I come running to your rescue next time you’re—

In a position?

Kitten gritted her teeth in frustration as Aven whistled a tune, turning on his double-head shower.

Your first appointment is at ten with Delgato. Then at twelve, Vincent wants you to come by after his kendo training and then at three-thirty . . . Aven! Are you even listening?

He wasn’t listening. He sang to himself, shutting the shower door.

You’re such an ass, she said to no one.

Typical Aven. Always shrugging off responsibilities.

She thought about walking right in and telling him she quit, but she knew if she did that it wouldn’t go well. She would stutter over her words, seeing the steam rising over his toned body. She shook her head.

Suffer through it, Katharine. Suck it up.

Holding up the red stilettos, she smiled. Hello, my beautiful darlings. She glanced back at the bathroom door, biting her lip. No. She would leave him