The Wicked (Elder Races #5.5)(8)

The Boeing could seat up to eighteen people, so their crew had plenty of room to spread out. There were two couches set on either side of the cabin. Wide, comfortable chairs, all covered in elegant pale leather, were positioned in sets of four around tables. At the back of the plane, a complete, high-end galley could produce gourmet meals on long trips.

As soon as they were airborne and the plane had leveled out, everyone would be served their choice of filet mignon or grilled Dover sole, a fresh salad of mixed melon balls, balsamic braised asparagus, French rolls, and either chocolate mousse or a cheese plate with coffee for dessert.

When Carling had suggested the menu as a gesture of appreciation for their send-off, Sebastian hadn’t objected. Soon enough the team would be eating rations that they carried in, fish that they caught and any vegetation they could harvest from the land.

The Djinn had chosen a seat at the back of the plane, and everyone else had given her as wide a berth as they could in such limited space.

As instructed, Olivia sat alone at the first table, opposite his laptop and files. He had studied her, at least as much as he was capable of, earlier in the conference room. Up close, he could take in all the details that he could no longer discern at a distance.

The sunshine slanting into the window brought out deep auburn glints in the chestnut-colored hair that lay in a sleek cap against her well-shaped head. While her blue T-shirt was plain, it fit snugly against her feminine figure, and the color was flattering to her pale, lightly freckled skin. She had intelligent gray eyes and a sensitive face, with shifts in expression that were subtle and nuanced. He could easily separate her feminine scent from the mélange of all the other scents in the cabin, and he found it delicious.

That reaction she’d had earlier—it had been an involuntary response. Her heart had pounded. He had seen the tiny flutter of pulse at her carotid artery. He was not sure what had prompted her reaction, and he found himself intrigued, even though she could have merely been surprised.

At the moment she looked calm, which he found irritating. She cradled a smartphone in small, capable-looking hands. At first he thought she was texting someone, but then he caught a glimpse of bright fruit exploding on the screen.

She played Fruit Ninja.

So much for his powers of intimidation. He refused to smile.

He had set his laptop and files in the seat that faced toward the back of the plane, so that he could assess various members of the group during the flight. Now he slid into his seat and buckled his seat belt.

She looked up quickly, switched off her phone and tucked it into a pocket, then buckled herself in too. Although her expression turned expectant, he didn’t speak right away. The plane taxied onto a runway and prepared to take off. Another headache flared at the back of his eyes. He closed them, enduring the high, escalating whine of the plane and the thrust from the engines that sent them hurtling down the runway and pushing into the sky.

When he opened his eyes again, Olivia had turned her attention to the passing scenery outside the plane window. A frown had etched itself onto the delicate skin between her sleek brows. Now, instead of looking calm and composed, she appeared unsettled. Perhaps his prolonged silence bothered her.

He said to her telepathically, I want some assurance that you and the Djinn are not going to cause me any problems on this trip. Convince me of that.

Chapter Three

Olivia’s attention snapped back to him, her eyes flaring with astonishment.

She said, Excuse me?

The headaches made him terse. He wanted to snap at everything and everyone in sight. Through an exercise in self-discipline, he managed to keep himself from biting her head off. I want some assurance that you and the Djinn are not going to cause me any problems on this trip. You need to convince me of that.

She raised her eyebrows, her expression turning cold. Or what?

He raised his eyebrows as well, mirroring her expression. Or I will get rid of both of you and tell Carling that I need replacements.

Her astonishment turned to anger. My resume and recommendations speak for themselves. And why on earth would you presume that I could possibly predict what Phaedra may or may not choose to do?

He crossed his arms and rested his aching head against the back of his seat. Clearly you two know each other.

Not that well, she said grimly.

I find that hard to believe, he said. You were certainly close enough for her to transport you to the meeting, and for you to call her a dimwit and tell her not to make an ass of herself.

Just like that, her quick anger faded to what seemed to be a mixture of embarrassment and exasperation. She heaved a sigh and pinched the bridge of her slender nose. She made me angry, and it just fell out of my mouth.

So the auburn glints in that sleek chestnut hair of hers indicated a temper. All right, perhaps now he was amused. Somewhat.

He said, his mental voice dry, Do you often get angry at Djinn and tell them off without fear of repercussion?

No, she told him emphatically. In fact, I met Phaedra for the first time this week. Her father is in a relationship with a good friend of mine. Because of that connection, I’ve become one of Phaedra’s associates by default. She wasn’t supposed to transport me. I was going to take a taxi to the meeting. She did it to be irritating. Her expression turned wry. I’m pretty sure she won’t zap me for calling her a dimwit. Grace would have something to say to Khalil about that. In spite of any possible evidence to the contrary, I think Phaedra cares what her father thinks.