Her kiss was still on my lips.

I stared at the empty seat beside me. The many around me. Paragon spared no expense. The jet was due to refuel in 8 hours before taking me to Nigeria's capital. From there I didn't care. It was merely time spent away from her.

Flashes of the night before tore my mind apart in the best way. Separated my soul leaving half behind with her.

Her hands went through my dark hair drawing me inches from those lips. She did everything she wanted and I let her. So did the demon inside me—but it fought every second regardless.

Clouds formed a thick, pure blanket miles below.

Quinn's green irises watched me.

The wing of the jet cast a pencil white line behind as we cut through the sky.

Quinn breathed my name into my neck as she moved against my hips.

The ice in my glass sent a slow droplet of water down the side of the glass.

Her nails dragged hard against my cool skin and I took her off the ground entirely and forced her half way up the wall. That's when we both decided the future didn't matter too much. We kissed like we had first met and would last meet. We moved purposefully. Desire was finite and so was our time. Fire and ice. A pure collision of chaos and chance. Two impossible forces that would never reoccur as they had now in this moment.

She knew it and so did I.

I felt every inch of her burning skin on mine. Her hands ran through my hair and her teeth grazed the most dangerous lines of my neck—the growls weren't entirely predatory...

She only encouraged it, almost asked for that side of me to come to the surface.

I allowed it and more. I let my teeth sharpen more than hers ever would. I grinned in the darkness with my own before her. She grinned right back.

"Ms Fletcher?"

I flinched out of my world with Quinn—where it was still worthwhile.

"I do apologise—can I get you anything?" The sharply dressed steward asked.

I cleared my throat—despite it being a pointless action.

"Gin and tonic, please."

A distraction.

"Of course, Ms Fletcher."

Curious how these mortals used my latest immortal name. Perhaps I had Paragon's lackies to thank. Still... it felt too close to home. I didn't often share my chosen name with one offs.

He placed the drink before me carefully with a formal word. I nodded half there. I had never been so unfocused in all my centuries. So... not the sharp end of the spear Cordius had forged.

I snorted and drew the glass close to my lips inhaling the scent. Not so long ago Quinn tasted the same before every take off. Her legs sprawled over a chair arm while she interrogated my knowledge on law. Of course neither of us could yet find a gap in knowledge there... I would love to test other areas.

She was still very impressive for someone who had lived on this earth for such short time.

The phone vibrated inside my jacket.

The calm, fondness on my face vanished. All the warmth went with it and that burning, scarcely controlled rage simmered.

A set of coordinates lay on screen with nothing more. How predictable. They trust me with numbers and nothing more until the moment presents itself. I may well be walking into a live fire fight as I had in the Cold War—but that would be too easy.

The desperation in their actions spoke so much louder. Quinn was still alive so they needed me much more than they cared to share.

They negotiated.

Paragon were the house. When did the house ever lose? I had put some thought into it ever since that ludicrous flight with the elders sat so very close in that confined space.

Our numbers were not what they were. Perhaps they would not be again. My creator was gone—along with it, any hope of making more immortals of my own calibre. Though Cordius himself even admitted he broke the mould with me.

Immortals were scarce and talent was even scarcer.

Perhaps William would have told me as much if he hadn't been foolish enough to threaten Quinn's life.

I waved over a steward and had a laptop in front of me in less time than the drink.

The location was... interesting.

At face value it was starkly mountainous territory. At a glance it looked like Chappal Waddi, the tallest found in the country. But more to the point, what business did Paragon have there...

It was a curious country after all. An exploding population with a lot of potential. It will do one of two things... flourish with expanding infrastructure and economy or buckle under a rising unemployment and education rate. India seemed to fair well enough under those circumstances but it was a different set of variables. They are a target for many with hungry eyes for finite resources, for which they were rich.

I rapidly pulled tabs up absorbing information as I went. Hausa was similar to most of the spoken languages on the continent though it hasn't been the national tongue since I was last there half a century ago. Now it was English.

There was nothing of face value that would give me a taste of global consequence. But I'm sure Paragon had done the ground work for me pillaging every intelligence agency the mortals had.

My journey continued this way until that phone went off again. But before my rage could harden my soul more I realised it had come from the left side of my jacket—not so coincidentally over my heart.

"Quinn." I murmured to myself with a smirk.

"Still alive, detective?"

"We've only lost one engine. Fear not we have another."

The reply was as sarcastic as I had hoped for.

"Take out the other. At least give yourself a challenge..."

I grinned.

"Even in a death spiral I'd struggle to find the sport in it."

The response was slightly delayed.

"Do you know what I'm going to find sport in?"

I humoured her by waiting again.

"Finding out how much it will take to max out a Paragon credit card."

I froze. Going for the wallet the other side of the phone and of course. Of course. Finding that matte black card empty. My shock turned to amusement. I shut my eyes and shook my head before responding to her. I knew she already wore that trademark smirk. Why not piss them off even more?

"You are so lucky I can get my way without funds..."

"With a face like that im not even sure you need the immortal persuasion ;)"

"You're impossible, Adams."

"You love it."

I let the warmth of those words hold me as she would. How her eyes would soften when she said them as she had last night. It wasn't something that even needed to be said with weight and a meaningful stare... it was as natural as her breathing when she said it.

"I do."

* * * * *

When I touched down the heat was a different kind to the South American type. It was a kind of dry that took the liquid out your mouth.

I stood on the threshold of the jet stairs and looked out at Lagos airport. A black car with tinted windows and a built driver stood watching me expectantly. No... not quite expectant but more smug.

Interesting for a mortal.

I descended with only one throw bag over my shoulder and politely refused the help, thanking the flight crew as I approached the silent driver.

Silver aviators hid his eyes and contrasted starkly against his dark skin.

He cracked a sudden grin and a set of canines glinted wickedly.

I hid my shock and raised an eyebrow.

"Fletcher." He drawled, like a long lost friend.

"Well, I'm on the back foot in more than one way..." I murmured, stepping past him and opening the trunk myself—he didn't seem the type to offer.

The charcoal suit was cut tightly against his muscles which he crossed over his chest before him, watching me intently. A three piece suit no less. A very well cut one by the look—Saville row wouldn't even get close.

"You're new." I guessed.

He shook his head slowly, drawing—was that a pipe? What century did he dwell in... Not to mention the bloody temperature was nearing 40 degrees.

"Merely happy to be here." He said, taking a slow draw and letting the smoke blow the way a mortal would when he's long past cynical about his work, he humours it. Perhaps even further gone than that. Perhaps he found the jest in all its futility and was waiting for the next roll of the dice just to witness the art of the game.

I decided this was the first immortal I liked in a long time.

I snapped the boot closed and checked him up and down despite noticing every detail after two steps down the jet stairs.

"Shall we?" I asked, more curious to his lack of haste than anything else. Of course he was well aware of Paragon's distain for time wasting—

"We are in no rush, immortal. Come. Take in the scenes with me..." He smirked, gesturing with a large hand out to the runway that rippled with heat.

He was either a mad man or long past caring for much in particular. An immortal with no fear of Paragon. There truly was a novelty.

I shrugged in no mood to join the circus sooner and leant against the Mercedes with him, offering out my hand. He placed the pipe in it and I took a slow drag. It was more pleasant than expected. Subtle tastes of chestnut and old pine mixed almost with... vanilla.

Yes. This man had the faint smell of vanilla on his skin... thats's where it came from.

"Will you tell me your name, or am I to do that?"

I blew out a cloud into those silver aviators and the grin returned in full demonic force.

"Oh, I'd like one if you please." He stated, removing the pipe from my hand and taking in another deep drag. Our cool skin let us handle this scolding heat on the tarmac but to mortals we must have looked positively insane.

"Vanilla."

He barked out a laugh while tasting the very thing. Then he nodded puffing out a final cloud before emptying the contents on the runway with one flick of the finger.

"They're not wrong about you." He quipped, turning on his heel and stepping into the vehicle in a fluid move much faster than I anticipated for his size.

There may be much about him kept beneath the surface... Best to keep this one in sight.

I slipped into the passenger side wanting to be aware of his hand movements. He didn't fail to notice and smirked wider tilting his sunglasses down so that I could witness eyes I had never seen the like of in any immortal.

He winked. Sliding them quickly back into place.

Hells burn me alive.

Another loud laugh filled the dark interior.

Did I say that out loud? I may well have given the shock painted all over me.

"Yes. Not so... new, immortal." He said as simply as one would note the clouds ahead. He drove smoothly. He had likely been doing it since vehicles were created and somehow—some way found the joy in it.

He must have found a way to find the joy in everything experienced again and again because—

He was a god damn elder. But not any I had seen the like of. Cordius' irises were half a ring of gold, he was an elite unquestionably. The proportion of gold to colour gave you a good indication to the strength and age of the immortal in front of you. None crossed my maker as he had almost half his eye dominated by the gold of immortality. Centuries of experience and combat. Hundreds of victories shown by the fact he was still on the earth—was.

This immortal sat here with a careless smirk and his entire damn irises made up of gold. There was nothing mortal in those eyes—not even his own birth given colour.

He was no elder or elite.

What sat before me in this vehicle was a founder.