10

~Avia 

I go where I know I can run into him naturally.

I’m not sure how long I stand in the kitchen, sipping from a glass of water, waiting for Isaiah to emerge from his underground room. Malin is right, this mission needs to move forward, and quickly. The longer it takes for me to get information from Isaiah, the longer I have to be here, which means at any moment, someone could realise I’m not the real Kenna. 

Finally, I hear soft footsteps from the adjacent hallway, so I turn to the tap on and refill my glass. All my senses are alert as I anticipate Isaiah’s entry. Speaking to him like this, in the middle of the night where he is not expecting to uphold the sensibilities of an Alpha, makes me feel painfully vulnerable. 

"Another late night, huh?" he murmurs from behind me. 

I don’t have to fake the flutter of fright that courses through me. Turning around, I smooth down the edge of my nightdress - another calculated move - with my free hand. It’s obvious he’s been training, a light sheen of sweat on his bare arms and forehead, the front of his black shirt damp. My mouth goes dry. 

"I'm homesick," I reply tightly, watching him over the rim of my glass as I take another sip. "Can't sleep."

"You can return at any moment you please," he reminds me, circling around the kitchen island and to the sink beside me, filling his own glass. I watch him silently, admiring his large hands, his perfect jawline from the side. I hate myself for it, but if it makes the performance more convincing... "Just say the word."

"I want to stay. I want to help you,” I assure him. I can’t be sent home, not yet. It’s been painful aiding Isaiah with his intentions to alter the fabric of this Pack in such a terrible way, but in order to have use here, I have no other choice. I just have to remind myself of what will come of my actions. An Alpha will no longer be a concern of mine. 

He steps back, resting against the counter opposite to where I stand, looking at me. I try not to fidget as his gaze glides down my person, before pausing on my bare legs. Mercifully, he looks away, clearing his throat uncomfortably, accompanying it with a long drink of water. 

"I get homesick too,” he mumbles, ruffling the few dark strands of hair plastered against his forehead. 

I frown. "What for? Don't you live here full time?"

"Not for a place exactly," he corrects, closing his eyes for a moment. "I get homesick for something else. Like I'm missing some place, someone I haven't even met yet."

When he opens his eyes, they are dark, pained. A traitorous part of me aches, knowing that feeling, of not belonging no matter where I am. Even in the rebellion, I have had doubts of if I should run it alongside Malin. She’s better at making decisions, telling people what to do. Too often I’ve had to remind myself of what this is for, what we plan to accomplish. I would dare tell Malin of my doubts, though, or even Kadrick. 

"You hate it here?" How could any not?

"It's hard to tell.” He shrugs, jaw settling into a firm line. 

Indecision. I should jump on it, perhaps work on turning him against the very position he possesses. In those meetings, he seemed as though he was tired of questioning things, focusing instead on justifying it. Maybe if I tugged on that melting resolve, there’s a chance I can get more out of this then just information…

"You could make it better by starting to not let those people walk all over you," I say slowly, calmly. I don’t want him to think I’m challenging him, that I’m calling him weak. "I know you have the power to make it stop."

My gaze flickers to his fists, the raw skin on his knuckles. He is far from weak. 

"It's easier to let people who know more tell me what is best,” he responds. My eyes narrow, already half-expecting a diplomatic answer. He thinks me, Kenna, wants him to say this, to conform. How can I both convince him, but also remain loyal to the position I am supposed to play? Any wrong move, and this will be over. 

"What if they don't know more? Or what is best." I ask, barely above a whisper. 

His dips down as he examines my expression carefully. It’s near infuriating how well he can contain his thoughts, his emotions. I can read nothing in those deep green eyes, in the way he looks at me. All I can see if the barest hint of interest, of curiosity. 

"What are you saying, Kenna?" he asks, tone low and firm, commanding an answer from me. I have to take risks, that is what it is all about...

"You signing that paper will do bad things.” My voice shakes, I can’t help it. I care about this, the people who will lose their jobs, who will lose their homes. Those people in that meeting couldn’t care less about those people, about what they are about to go through now that this has been announced. "I know I made that speech...but..."

"Hey...Kenna," he murmurs softly, cutting me off. "I know."

And he does no. I can see it. The doubt is haunting him, but it’s there, and it’s dug its claws in deep, I can see it. Now it’s time to back off, to approach the subject later. 

"I don't want to criticise you," I retract, resting my empty glass down on the counter beside me, doing anything to avoid the intensity of his gaze right now. Maybe wearing only this night dress wasn’t the best idea I’ve had. "I want to understand you."

"Why?" he questions. 

 My mouth opens to respond, but all words are lost in my throat as he pushes up off the counter and takes a few steps toward me, everything about the movement graceful yet calculated. My entire body is taut with anticipation as he comes to stand close, leaning down to brace his arms on either side of me. I can smell the mix of cloves and pine on him, feel the warmth of his breath against my face.

It's like he knows what he does to me. Whether I want it or not, my body is suddenly flushed with heat, my limbs losing all sense of control as I clutch desperately to the edge of the counter behind me, so close to his hands, they are almost touching. 

Avia. Snap out of it, and get to work. 

"I'm so attracted to you,” I blurt out. 

The edge of Isaiah’s lips turn up, which I find myself staring at. It’s obvious what I have to do, what I’ve Malin and Kadrick have both encouraged. To seduce him, there is one very necessary step to take, that will solidify my position to him. I need to kiss him. And all it takes is for me to lean up and capture his lips with mine, yet I hesitate. 

"You're not going to kiss me,” he whispers, as if he can see what’s swirling around my mind. 

I can’t seem to get rid of the heavy lump in my throat. "Why not?"

"Because you're afraid of me,” he responds quietly, a hint of amusement lingering at the edge of his voice. He’s so close now, our bodies are nearly pressed together, the tension between us beckoning me to prove him wrong, to kiss him. But he is right, he does scare me. One moment I feel as though I know him, that I can predict him, and yet here I am, proven wrong….

I would never have imagined, upon meeting him, that he would have me pinned against this counter with the dark of night around us. I’m at his mercy now, which is exactly where I shouldn’t be...And yet, my mind scrambles for a way out, and cannot find any. 

I straighten. "I won't be scared if you kiss me."

"I'm not going to do that,” he shakes his head, yet his dark tone is so seductive, those eyes so painfully alluring. He wouldn’t object if I leant forward and kissed him, but he is not going to give me the satisfaction of doing it himself. Not when he is clearly enjoying playing with me so much. 

I’ll give him what he wants. Please..."

He looks at my mouth, chewing on his bottom lip. He’s considering it. 

"Tempting,” he murmurs. 

"Isaiah..." I breathe. He's so close, I can feel his hot breath mingling with mine. 

"What do you want, Kenna?" he murmurs, dark eyes flickering, his hands clenching tightly on the bench behind me. "For me to bend you over this counter and wake all my poor staff up?"

Suddenly this is painfully real. I could so much as nod, and there is a chance he would come through on his sinful promise. 

My mind doesn’t have the strength to form a response, so I just gape at him. This is the last thing I expected to transpire between us. He has just invited me to have sex with him...Perhaps he is doing so because he knows I would never agree to that, and wants to examine my reaction, or maybe...just maybe he means it. 

"Not ready, hmm?" He’s not taunting me, all amusement and joking having vanished, leaving this painful, unanswered tension between us. 

Mercifully, he steps back, a rush of cool air billowing over me. All I can do is silently hold his gaze, before he turns and walks from the room, as if he hadn’t just said all that to me...

My legs give out from under me, my body collapsing onto the floor, my knees hiking up to my chest. For a long moment, I just sit, staring into the darkness. He didn’t even touch me once, and yet I feel as though my entire being has been wrought of every amount of energy I have out of me. 

Suddenly, this mission has become a whole lot harder.