• • •

That night, Keko paced along the outside perimeter of the cage of wind encircling the Senatus gathering. She could see into it—the three elemental Senatus delegates and Griffin sat on cheap lawn chairs around a bonfire—but heard nothing. The wind barrier erased their words.

Bane and Makaha took up positions at other points surrounding the gathering, though this deep in the pitch black mountains they were unlikely to be discovered. Aaron, the only air elemental in attendance other than the Senatus premier, leaned against a nearby tree, holding the soundproof wind cage in place.

As always, Aya, the self-proclaimed Daughter of Earth, was the only elemental of her mysterious race in attendance. The dainty Daughter perched gingerly on the edge of her chair, the fire that rose from the logs highlighting the unusually lovely golden tint to her skin and the pure white shock of her hair. The green of her eyes did not reflect the firelight at all. She said so little but she was always watching and listening, always alert, and her presence never failed to intrigue Keko.

The ali’i, shirtless and barefoot, lounged back in his chair. The Senatus premier wore a cowboy hat and a flannel coat lined with fleece, his deeply wrinkled eyes focused intently on Griffin, who had been speaking for a long while with stiff, controlled hand gestures. Puffs of cold, white air escaped from between his lips every time he opened them.

The Ofarian was incredibly easy to look at. Keko knew power and leadership when she saw it, and it turned her on more than it probably should have.

Their flirting—however subversive it had been—ceased that afternoon and evening as she’d performed her job and explained to Griffin how the Senatus worked. The order of speaking, the presentation of issues, how the premier was voted in on five-year intervals, among other things she found boring but which Griffin listened to with an attentive ear.

Now, inside the wind cage, an argument broke out. That much was plain by the tension in the four bodies and the vehement way Griffin was talking, his gestures getting bigger, his eyes blinking less.

The ali’i was the first to jump up and stomp through the wind barrier. Keko couldn’t look away from Griffin, who’d risen to his feet with a powerful grace. Right then and there she knew he was a fighter, some sort of soldier. A different kind of warrior than a Chimeran, but a warrior nonetheless.

As Chief grabbed Keko’s arm and spun her away, she saw the premier and Aya approaching Griffin in a calm manner.

“The Ofarians are making aggressive moves to integrate into the Primary human world.” The inner fire raked at Chief’s voice, making it gritty and rasping.

Keko blinked, not sure she understood his anger. “And?”

“He thinks we should do the same. Rather than hiding out in our own little worlds, he wants us to figure out ways to inch the Secondary world into the Primary. And if he gains a seat in the Senatus, that will be his main objective.”

A brief, alien cold swept through Keko. The various Chimeran clans spread all over the Hawaiian Islands had always been deliberately separate from the humans. The Queen had decreed that necessary over a thousand years ago when she split off from the other Polynesian immigrants. And now this Ofarian, this water elemental, wanted to shatter that by forcing all Secondaries to follow his people’s lead?

“Why?” she asked.

Chief wiped his mouth and let out a short, bitter laugh. “Because they have nothing. The magic they once peddled to the Primaries is gone now, along with all the money it used to bring in. They go to Primary schools and are taking jobs in Primary businesses because they have to. Griffin says it’s starting to work for them but I don’t know. It’s dangerous. So, so dangerous . . .”

Keko agreed.

Yet she’d always embraced danger.

Looking over Chief’s shoulder she saw that Griffin was alone now, gazing into the fire and dragging a slow hand between his ear and chin. She could hear the crackle and pop of the flame-consumed logs now, which meant Aaron had dropped the wind barrier.

“I want to know more about his motives,” Chief told her, his voice dropping. “I want to know everything. You know what to do.”

Just then Griffin looked up and caught her staring. She didn’t look away.

Oh, she knew exactly what to do. And only a small fraction of it involved listening.

She nodded. Pure business, all general. “Yes, sir.”

As the Chimerans and air elementals split off for their respective camps, and Aya did that silent thing where she melted back into the night shadows and disappeared without a trace, Keko pulled the car keys from her jeans pocket and jangled them.

“Let’s go,” she called to Griffin. He looked at her for a drawn-out moment before finally turning his back on the fire and following her.

Griffin was silent the whole ride back to the hotel. On the way to their rooms that were next to each other but not connected, the only sounds were his boots on the carpet and the rasp of fabric as he took off his jacket. She waited while he drew out his keycard and slipped it into the lock. When it blinked green, he pushed open the door, then froze. Turning his head he said to her, “Come in. I want to talk to you.”

The ali’i’s orders were but a niggle in the back of her mind, a mere fly compared to the volcanic rumble the sound of Griffin’s command strummed inside her. But she played it cool and sauntered past him. The door clicked shut behind her.

She’d barely made it into the little hall opposite the bathroom when Griffin grabbed her shoulder from behind, spun her around, and pinned her against the wall with a straight arm. Then his elbow bent and his body closed in.

Queen help her, she felt herself go wet, felt her whole body get switched on. Rough sex was how it was done in the Chimeran stronghold, and, as their general, it was the way she demanded it when she chose a partner.

“You’re not just my driver, not just my tourist guide,” he murmured, getting closer and closer until all she could see was his face. “You’re their spy.”

Keko arched her back, pushing her torso away from the wall and into his hand.

For a second his desire was betrayed in the flash of his brown eyes, but then his fingers dug deep and hard into her shoulder.

“You’re supposed to tell them everything I say and do,” he ground out. “Aren’t you?”

The pulse between her legs was crazy now. The fire inside her raged. She could barely control the pace of her breath or the sexual itch scratching its way through her body.

“Well, thank the Queen you know,” she said. “Now we can just get to the fucking.”

Beneath those thick eyebrows his eyes widened, glowing with lust. His desire had its own color, and there was nothing he could do to disguise it or paint over it.

The moment caused his grip to slacken and Keko took advantage of it. Lunging. A forearm across his chest, she shoved him against the opposite wall. That second of surprise on his face was wonderful and sexy and a powerful turn-on.

Then she smashed her mouth against his.

Resistance lasted barely a breath, then he groaned—a great release of sound and pent-up energy that made his whole body shudder—and he was kissing her back with such force she felt it in the jump and shiver of her inner fire.

A water elemental—kapu, forbidden—was making her feel this way, and that made the whole thing all the more taboo, all the more sweet. He had no fire magic, yet he was burning, his lips and tongue and pressure made of heat and power.

Suddenly the contact broke and she was left reeling, empty. Griffin had taken hold of both her shoulders and had pushed her away, off of him. Her eyelids fluttered open to find his expression a swirl of confusion and base lust. His chest pumped almost violently. He looked stripped out of his skin, a completely different man from the stiff, serious, focused Ofarian she’d gathered from the airport. And he had no idea what to do with that, how to react.