by R. J. Blain
“She loves deer,” Richard informed me in a solemn tone. “She’s also angry at me we didn’t take down some rabbits for her enjoyment.”
“They looked positively delicious.”
“There were babies, and we don’t take the moms with babies,” Richard scolded. “We can get farmed rabbit for your enjoyment. If you’re lucky, your father got you some when he was shopping.”
“I really hope my father is smart and did the right thing.” Nicolina wrinkled her nose. “So. Amber.”
As the woman had her arms wrapped around me, I couldn’t escape the question, and I twisted to stare down at her. “What are you asking of me, Nicolina? To perform the ritual if needed, or something else?”
“Something else.”
“Okay. What do you want, Nicolina? I don’t want to play a guessing game today.”
“From what we know of you, you don’t drink, but the Russians said you could drink them under the table,” she said.
Wait. What? What did alcohol have to do with Amber? “If I have a choice in the matter, I don’t drink, because when I drink, I do stupid shit, including inviting rowdy Russians into my home. And they bribe their way into my home with vodka. It’s a problem. Fortunately, I don’t think I’ve done anything particularly stupid since coming here, but I’ve been on my guard even when drunk off my ass.”
“How much alcohol would I have to ply you with to get you to start hitting on Amber?”
Ah. “Considering I already asked her to marry me once because she beat up some SEALs, none. I’ve already done a good job of making an ass out of myself. Of course, if she takes Lane out like she’s after dinner while I’m watching, I’ll end up blurting the same damned thing again. Who wouldn’t?”
“Married men?” Nicolina asked in an uncertain tone. Her brows furrowed. “Possibly married women.”
“Possibly?”
Richard snickered. “She asked Amber why she hadn’t married her instead of me a few weeks ago. I’d gotten on her last nerve.”
“Is that why you don’t mind she’s hanging off me right now?”
“I don’t mind she’s hanging off you because it means she’s not hanging off me while I’m cooking for a change. She wants your brownies, but she’s afraid to ask because she doesn’t know if you have the ingredients to make brownies.”
I sighed, twisted around, and peeled Nicolina off. “Go to the freezer and retrieve one of the blocks of butter. Assuming Richard hasn’t completely cleaned me out of flour, I’ll make you brownies.”
“Brownies!” Nicolina dove for the outdoor chest freezer, hitting the door at full speed. I winced at the thump, and the breath whooshed out of the woman. After a valiant struggle, she managed to get outside.
Richard sighed and bowed his head. “I’m sorry. She’s been like this ever since her father mentioned having you potentially perform the ritual where she could hear. She wasn’t supposed to find out about that.”
“She loves Amber.”
“Dearly. And she’s playing pretend around her father, as she’s well aware of Amber’s health problems. Her one moonstone is damned good at healing, and there are limitations to what she can do as a wizard. Reversing the consequences of old age is one of those things.”
“Why won’t the Inquisition change the rules?”
“They’re working on it, but it’s a slow process, and fire witches like Amber tend to have dramatic rituals, which are hard to hide. Once they hammer out the details, it’ll change. Witches who undergo the ritual later maintain their ability to help other Fenerec, although they tend to need a witch of their own for a while. We’ve got enough witches with us that if you do perform the ritual on her, Amber will have the help she needs. I recommend you drag her at least fifty feet away from your cabin before doing the ritual, though.”
“That far?”
“She’s a pretty powerful fire witch, and she’ll lose control of her witchcraft immediately following the ritual,” Richard warned.
“But isn’t her witchcraft failing?”
“That doesn’t mean it can’t flare.”
I shrugged. “I’ll cross that bridge when I get to it. If Amber’s willing, I have no problems with doing it, and I don’t need to propose badly again to perform the ritual if that’s what she wants.”
“Ah, but your bad proposal amuses us all, Declan. Mostly because we can fully understand why you’d do it. Is there anything sexier than a woman taking out six SEALs?”
“There’s really not,” I replied.
“I’ve learned there is: my wife in lingerie.”
I laughed. “Amber could have beaten the SEALs while in lingerie.”
Richard frowned. “I wonder if Amber could teach Nicolina to beat the snot out of SEALs while in a bikini. That’s publicly appropriate lingerie, right?”
Anthony cracked up laughing. “Would the SEALs even put up a fight at that point?”
“I wouldn’t,” I admitted.
“I wouldn’t, either,” my friend stated.
Richard took his time thinking about it, and Nicolina returned. He turned to his wife and said, “I’ll take you to the Porsche dealership and buy whatever you want if you have Amber teach you how to take out a SEAL team while you’re wearing a bikini. I want to watch.”
“I was only gone long enough to grab the butter. Why are you wanting me to wear a bikini while taking out some SEALs?”
“It would be supremely sexy,” Richard replied.
“Not just sexy, supremely sexy?” Nicolina rolled her eyes and brought the butter to me. “I don’t need another Porsche right now, but if I break the one I have, I’ll think about it. Lane is a good sport about getting his ass kicked, but we’d have to find some other SEALs. The ones Amber beat up are still heartbroken, and she doesn’t want to destroy their remaining pride quite yet. One of us kicking their asses while in a bikini would break them.”
“But it would be supremely sexy,” Richard replied. “It’s just a few SEALs. They’d get an honorable discharge, should they be crushed by you or Amber in bikinis. I’ll even pay for their therapy bills.”
“No.”
Richard sighed. “But it would be supremely sexy.”
“The answer is still no.”
“But—”
“No.”
I laughed and went to work gathering the ingredients needed to make brownies, grateful I’d spent a premium for good cocoa and chocolate every time I went to the city. While some staples were difficult to get, there was a healthy market for chocolate in Blagoveshchensk.
I debated adding vodka to my brownies but opted against it.
The last thing I needed was a bunch of drunks in my cabin.
“Come on, Nicolina. How about beating Lane in a bikini?”
“I like Lane, and I wouldn’t want to damage his pride,” Nicolina replied. “Maybe if one of the SEALs is a cretin to Amber, I will get into a bikini and teach him his manners.”
Richard narrowed his eyes. “While I watch?”
“Well, I wouldn’t be going through all of the effort of changing into a bikini without you watching. That’s just ridiculous.”
“I feel like I should warn the SEALs,” I confessed. “How about some Marines and other branches of special forces? Why just beat up on the poor SEALs?”
“We could start a training program for special ops who think they’re good,” Nicolina replied with a grin. “It could be fun.”
Richard considered, forcing his attention onto the pot of stew. “I feel like you should be defending your fellow Marines, Declan.”
“But why? If they’re not good enough to survive Amber or Nicolina, are they really worthy of calling themselves Marines?”
Nicolina giggled. “We better not tell Amber Declan said that, because she might start proposing to him.”
I frowned. “Why would you not tell her, then?”
“Probably because she’d beat you up to see what standard she should hold other Marines to,” the woman replied.
My wolf was ready to attend a beating if Amber was the one handling said beating. “It is a sacrifice I’m willing to make.”
Richard laughed. “I see it’s too late for you, Declan. If you offer Amber the first of the brownies, she might not beat you into next week.”
My wolf and I had no problems with Amber showing us her prowess. “Is there a problem with Amber beating me into next week? It sounds like I win. I get to see her in action, and I get to miss this issue with the werewolves here.”
“I can’t argue with you on that one.” Richard grabbed a clean spoon and taste tested the stew. “This is ready whenever anyone wants some. Desmond said I had to order you to eat no less than two bowls, and he’ll be happy if you eat three.”
I sniffed the steam coming off the pot. “That smells like a four bowl stew, Richard.”
“If you want to eat the entire pot, go for it. I can make more.”
“I’ll start the brownies, else they won’t get made.” I went to work, shaking my head at the insanity my life had become, and all I could do was hope I wouldn’t regret having called Dante about the problems in Blagoveshchensk.
Chapter Six
While Nicolina drooled like some starved beast who dined only on brownies, I refused to allow anyone to partake until I could offer Amber the first one. My edict drove Richard’s wife to the edge of her sanity, and the instant the crunch of gravel announced the arrival of several vehicles, she dove for the door, waged yet another ineffective war against it, and barreled out, howling the witch’s name.
Richard’s pained sigh made Anthony grin, and he said, “She’s something else.”
“I’m sorry. I swear, the flight here must have scrambled her brains. We didn’t even have much in the way of turbulence, and she fidgeted like we were going to crash the entire time. The instant her feet touched the ground, she became a hyperactive ball of impatience fueled with sugar.”
“She seemed rather energetic in London, too.” I joined Anthony in grinning. “Her appreciation of my brownies is nice, though.”
“Dante already made me buy a plot of land neighboring mine, get it zoned for a cabin, and start building it, by the way. He then made Desmond do the same neighboring his land. Otherwise, he thinks we’ll kidnap you so you make brownies for us every day.”
“Remind me to thank him for that later.” I cut a corner brownie out for Amber, set it on a plate, and waited for the mayhem in my cabin to resume as too many bodies crammed into the small space. Nicolina led the charge, dragging Amber in by her hand.
“What has gotten into you today?” the witch demanded.
“Brownies,” Richard’s wife replied, as though that somehow explained everything.
Amber groaned and bowed her head. “Seriously, Nicole? Seriously?”
“If she gets too rambunctious, I’ll take her outside, make her shift, and run her around until she’s a little more sane,” Richard muttered.
“Why didn’t you offer that an hour ago?” I asked, unable to keep the curiosity out of my tone.
“Honestly? I didn’t think of it until just now. She’s usually not this bad.”
“Richard!” Nicolina maintained her grip on Amber’s hand, dragging the witch to me.
As I suspected Richard’s patience flagged, I placed my hand on top of his wife’s head, turned her around, and directed her at her father, who came through the door. “Let Amber go and find out if your father bought you a rabbit. If he did, I will make it for you, but you need to sit down and be quiet. The amount of silence we get until your rabbit is ready determines how many brownies you get for dessert.”
To my amusement, the woman released the witch and dove for her father, who caught her, pulled her into a hug, and chuckled. “I did get enough rabbit for everybody, and I’ll keep her amused outside for a while. Richard, I’ll have her shift and keep an eye on her if you unload the vehicles.”
“There is a light at the end of the tunnel.” Richard abandoned the cabin, and I chuckled at their antics. Anthony got up, winked at me, and followed Richard out the door.
Once they were gone, I offered the plate to Amber. “That’s the best piece, so you should go sit down and enjoy it. The stew is done if you want some, but since you’ve been having to put up with that, the stew is dessert while the brownie is dinner.”
“You live to feed people, don’t you?” Amber replied, and she smiled, taking the plate. “Thank you. I could eat. It’s tiring work making sure nobody touches my charges.”
“Any problems?”
“The locals were perfectly civil, and a few of the braver Fenerec came to say hello or observe us. The Chinese were chatty, but we survived that, too. Richard’s going to be annoyed, but China is really pushing for a visit. We can handle that as soon as we’re done here. Expect two weeks in Beijing.”
“If you think I’m going to refuse two weeks in China, you’re mistaken,” I informed her. “There are recipes I don’t have yet, and if Richard has an official summons, I might be able to get some really good recipes.”
Amber grinned. “I think you’ll be the happiest one of us while we’re there. They’ll do just about anything to get on Richard’s good side, and they’ll try to impress Desmond, too. All they’ll have to do to get you treated like a prince is show you any favor at all. Nicolina will be treated like a princess the whole time, given attendants and everything, and if she’s not really careful, one or more of those attendants will end up coming home with us.”
“Why would they come home with you?”
“They would be young Fenerec, and Richard will have to do some fancy verbal dancing to avoid it. Nicolina is becoming more and more social every year, and the Chinese Fenerec take debts seriously. They owe Richard a debt, so I expect the packs there have been training younger women to become the equivalent of Nicolina’s handmaidens. It’s an honor for them, and they would have volunteered. Richard’s been dodging it because he is not good at sharing his wife with others, and he’d have to expand the house again, as we don’t have two suites for a pair of Fenerec women determined to be a mix of Nicolina’s confidants, bodyguards, and anything she needs. I think it’s a good idea.”
I read between the lines: Amber understood she wouldn’t be around forever. “I think it’s a good idea, but I think it’s a good idea probably for an entirely different reason than you do.”
That earned me an arched brow, and Amber sat in my rocking chair, nibbling on her brownie. “All right, Declan. I’ll bite. Why do you think it’s a good idea?”
Once upon a time, before I’d let the stress of being on the run get to me, I’d shown more of my playful side to Anthony. I’d shown some of it through my use of odd profanities. I resurrected one facet of my humor to test the waters. “I can’t try to run off with you if she has you under her thumb.”
She choked. “What?”
“I figure I’ll get my ass kicked, as you have a hobby of beating on SEALs for fun, but if Nicolina is clinging to you all of the time, I can’t even try to run off with you. I mean, that’s the ultimate victory, right? If I’m able to drag you off, I’ve bested you in close combat, I’ve gotten you past your merry gang of people who adore you, and I’ll have proven I’m the top wolf. That’s how that works, right?”
She coughed and took another bite of her brownie. Then she grinned. “You just want me to kick your ass like I kick the ass of other SEALs.”
“I hope I put up a good fight before you take me out like Nicolina is going to take out the rabbit I cook for her later.” I chuckled and dug out one of the bowls, filled it with stew, and brought it to her. “Let’s just clear the air. I’m neck deep in special ops, and while I’ll do all the covert jobs as needed, and I can keep secrets as needed, I’m not going to play that game with you. Desmond taught me the ritual so I can use it on you if your health sours. Apparently, if I snap and perform the ritual, it’s legal, where the others don’t have the convenient loophole of having been born a rogue. Since I don’t want t
o play that game with you, I want to know what you want. Not what Nicolina wants, not what Richard or Desmond hope for, but what you want.”
I’d misjudged Amber’s hunger, as she inhaled her brownie and grabbed the stew bowl like it might escape her. I sat near my fireplace and enjoyed the warmth on my back while watching her eat. After a few minutes, she emptied her bowl. I got up and took it from her. “More?”
“Please. I’m trying to hide the extra calories, but I need them.”
“Losing weight despite eating like a horse?” I guessed.
“Yeah. It’s the cancer.” Amber shrugged. “I knew it before anyone else did. I am a fire witch, after all. I was aware within days of it starting to develop. It’s in a bad place, and while chemo might work in a Normal, it probably won’t work for me, and even if it worked for me, it would cure the cancer but kill me in the process.”
I got her some more stew, and I brought it to her. Her concern the cancer treatments would kill her made sense. They killed Normals often enough, and if they interrupted her witchcraft, it wouldn’t surprise me if her age caught up with her. “Are you aware they’re dodging the subject with you?”
“They’re idiots.”
I returned to my spot near the fireplace, and Petra huffed, got up, and flopped beside me, resting her head on my knee. If the wolf didn’t want attention from me, she’d rebuke me with her teeth, but she accepted my tentative scratching behind her ears with grace. “They’re not idiots for loving you.”
“They’re idiots for not talking to me about this.”
I considered Dante, Desmond, and Richard, and then I considered what I knew about Amber. I could see all three men being afraid of offending the woman for various reasons. Dante would want to dodge a beating. Desmond and Richard would egg the woman on to see how they handled her beating on them but would view her as fragile—something the ‘fragile’ Amber would take serious offense to. “They are, but I believe they wouldn’t want you attempting to kill them for offending you or implying you might be fragile.”
“Well, I am. Fragile that is. I’m old.”
