Chapter 173: The Bodyguard

Kiyan glanced at the rearview mirror to watch Blanche's reaction. She, however, was lost in thought. She had used her power on Dean, turning him into a soulless servant. And yet, she couldn't sense his aura. Was that one of the consequences of her gift?

"Yes," Dean suddenly said.

Blanche looked up.

"Yes, what?" Kiyan growled.

"Yes, that's the answer to the question she was asking herself. I was supposed to say it a few seconds later. And no, I can't read your thoughts. I'm simply your servant. Oh, and for your information, I'm half-merman. Which also makes me a vampire who isn't subject to Sebastian's mind control."

Kiyan stared at him as though he'd just discovered a rat in his kitchen.

"Are you kidding me?" he growled, shooting Blanche an outraged look. "A merman?! Seriously? What kind of idea is that?"

Technically, if she really did inherit Lilith's power, she'd end up with a fish tail too. Blanche therefore saw no problem with it.

"Leave him alone," Dean growled, revealing his true face for the first time. "I tried to kill her. So it's only logical that she defended herself. We are, shall we say... natural enemies. Your special species and ours."

Blanche finally understood Kiyan's sudden behavior. He was usually so completely in control of himself—at least in this world. The line between Aaron and Kiyan was becoming increasingly blurred, especially when his fingers tightened around the steering wheel, his murderous aura poised to explode.

"In any case," Dean continued, "I'm very happy with my fate. I love my life now."

"Good for you," the warrior replied curtly.

His eyes reflected an intense fury, mixed with a perfectly justified concern.

"If I'm here," Dean continued, "it's solely because you asked me to be, Mistress. You specifically said I would be allowed to speak freely, even in the presence of the Djinn King."

Blanche raised an eyebrow. He had tried to kill her; her guilt eased slightly. Still, she hated this situation. His mere presence made her uncomfortable. He turned toward her.

"Don't worry about me. I wasn't exactly a choirboy. I deserved what happened to me. And honestly, I'm doing pretty well. I even have the feeling that my destiny was to become your servant."

Not entirely convinced, Blanche blinked before nodding. What was done was done. And she knew she would do it again if necessary.

What has been done cannot be undone.

Fenrir's voice echoed through her mind, clear as day. She swallowed a sigh.

"When you pass through the Gate of Time, go to 3605 Demoire Avenue. I'll be waiting for you there," Dean concluded.

If Dean was showing up now, and not before...

"All right," Blanche replied, suddenly fully alert.

"Good. Do you need me for anything else?" he asked, glancing at his watch with a hint of sadness, as though he would have preferred to stay.

"A phone number?"

He smiled and gave it to her. She thanked him, thereby letting him know he was free to leave. He then turned toward Kiyan, who was struggling to hide his aversion.

"Drop me off wherever you want."

The request did not fall on deaf ears. At the very first intersection, Kiyan pulled over in the middle of the road. Dean got out without another word.

"A merman vampire..." Kiyan muttered as Blanche moved into the front seat. "I really thought I'd heard everything."

The rest of the journey passed in silence, Erik's song playing on repeat. Both of them had plenty to think about.

Unfortunately, when they reached the house, a bodyguard was waiting for them, a suitcase at his feet.

Blanche grimaced. She had almost forgotten what awaited her that evening.

Almost.

Jax—that was his name—handed her the suitcase containing her dress and Eva's as soon as they crossed the threshold.

Blanche carefully took the precious cargo, shooting an amused glance at the two men remaining in the entrance hall. She had no intention of leaving the clothes crumpled any longer than necessary. So she disappeared down the hallway toward the bedrooms, leaving the two men alone behind her.

She went to Eva's room.

She quickly took the dress out of its garment bag and hung it up carefully, keeping it safely away from wrinkles, before retrieving Eva's.

On the bed, as every Saturday morning, the clean laundry was waiting for them.

Everything was neatly folded and pressed, arranged in small, immaculate piles: clothes, pajamas, underwear, towels... The routine had become almost comforting. Blanche set about putting everything away, opening drawers and cupboards with the efficiency of someone who had done the task often enough that she no longer had to think about it.

Then something caught her attention.

Among the freshly folded laundry lay her new swimsuit.

Blanche froze.

She picked it up between her fingers, studying the fabric absently before an idea crossed her mind.

The pool.

Her eyes immediately lifted.

After the past few days—the storm, the traveling, and all the events that had followed one another without giving her a moment's respite—the idea of swimming a few laps suddenly seemed wonderfully tempting.

She could simply put on her swimsuit, tie up her hair, and enjoy the water.

No quest.

No lessons.

No problem to solve.

Just swimming.

A smile appeared on her lips.

The urge to take a dip had officially gone from a pleasant little idea to an absolute necessity.

In the end, she chose the old one.

Black, understated, and perfectly suited to swimming: a high-waisted swim short that hugged her figure without restricting her movements, paired with a matching sports bra. Nothing spectacular. Nothing that could be interpreted as provocative.

With Jax around, she really wasn't in the mood for teasing.

And besides, she figured she'd already annoyed Kiyan enough for one week. She had more than taken advantage of his patience, his reactions, and that deliciously controlled way he had of pretending nothing ever affected him.

Sometimes, you had to know when to stop.

Sometimes.

She adjusted the straps of her sports bra one last time, checked that her long red braid was securely tied, then left the room.

When she came downstairs, Kiyan immediately looked up.

His gaze quickly swept over her outfit before returning to her face.

A simple approving nod confirmed his choice.

Blanche suppressed a smile.

No comment necessary.

She had apparently chosen the perfect regulation-approved outfit.

Jax, however, hadn't moved.

He stood in the darkest corner of the room, far enough from the light that his silhouette barely stood out against the wall. Motionless and silent, he watched everything.

The room.

The exits.

The movements.

The people present.

And Blanche.

His eyes never left her.