Last Chance Reform

by Alex Lidell

  Running a hand through his already mussed blond hair, Ellis moves his chair closer to me, the concern in his eyes making me think I’ve been in the infirmary longer than I thought. Certainly long enough for someone—or someones—to have stripped me naked.

  “You’ve been in and out of fever for two days,” Ellis says, answering my unspoken question.

  “Two days?” I echo. There’s no way I’ve been out for two days.

  “How are ye feeling?”

  “Like I just sparred with you. Well, not quite that bad.” I work my muscles, quickly realizing that my back hurts more than the rest of me. “My back feels like I have a bad sunburn.”

  “Good,” Reese says, grabbing a clipboard with more force than necessary and scribbling something. “If you’d gotten past all the pain while unconscious, you’d be back at stupidity before the day is done.”

  The bite in Reese’s voice stings. Wrapping the sheet around my chest, I push myself into a sitting position. Fuck it, I want clothes. It’s hard enough to be around the warriors when I have my leather jacket and attitude intact, much harder when I’m sitting buck naked on bed. “I want to go back to my room.”

  Reese doesn’t even look up from his notes. “Keep wanting.”

  Ellis sighs. “Don’t mind Reesand. He’s just upset you saved my life.”

  “I’m not sure I’m too keen on that either,” I mutter, the memories of the asshole Ellis has been for the past month returning to me with a vengeance. But then I did get him whipped, so maybe we’re even now. Either that or we have a pity-party kind of truth going on between us.

  Reese slams his clipboard down on the counter, his blue eyes flashing. “I’m upset because you toyed with magic you neither understand or control. You could have gotten yourself killed, Samantha. Could have collapsed the building down on your head. Could have done a million other things that you don’t even suspect, all because you’re running around with a gun off safety and your finger on the bloody trigger.”

  “And he wasn’t?” I point at Ellis, my blood rising along with Reese’s voice. “Either you were too fucking blind to see that he was on the verge of collapse, or else you didn’t give a damn. Which—”

  “It was neither,” Ellis cuts it. “Reesand knew the situation, but I made my own choices. Things didn’t turn out the way I intended, but the decision wasn’t the bloodsucker’s, it was mine.”

  That just makes everything a hundred times worse. “Oh, so it’s all right for him to make stupid choices,” I snap at Reese, “but the moment I do something as reckless as try to save a life, you act like I’m a child with an M16?”

  “Yes.” Placing both hands on the edge of the bed, Reese looms over me, every line of his chiseled face tight with intensity. He’s as furious as he’s fucking gorgeous, and my thighs ache with the memory of how damn good he felt inside me. He scowls. “Ellis knew the risks. You had no bloody idea. That’s the difference. And if you can’t understand that, you are more of a child than I thought.”

  “What would you have had me do, Reese? Step over Ellis’s corpse and go wash up?”

  “You were supposed to get me,” says Reese. “Do things in a controlled way.”

  “You mean your controlled way, don’t you?” I shoot back, and I wonder if he knows I’m not talking about magic anymore. “Though for all I know, you’d scurried off somewhere again. It’s not as if you bothered to give anyone a heads-up last time.”

  Reese’s lips pull back, but he says nothing, the pair of us staring at each other until he turns and walks away—which seems to be the damn vampire’s signature move. I stare at the door long after it closes. “If you have something to say about what I should or shouldn’t have done, Ellis, please keep it to yourself.”

  “You frightened him, Devinee,” Ellis says, the words rolling off him casually. “You frightened both of us. Not that I’m not grateful, mind ye. But I still have an itch to prod you with something just to make sure ye are really awake.”

  “Let me punch you in the nose, and you can have a full fucking reminder,” I say, my strength draining from me. Maybe I was overly optimistic about getting out of the infirmary right away. “Does this mean you don’t hate me anymore?” I ask Ellis as I settle back down on the bed.

  “Oh, I still despise you,” he assures me. “But it’s a friendly kind of despise.” Stepping closer to me, he adjusts my blankets, his fingers lingering on my hair. “We need to talk, Devinee. When you’re feeling better. We need to talk.”

  26

  Sam

  “Please take a seat.” Victor smiles—an incredible rendition of kind, fatherly concern—and gestures to an armchair before his huge cherrywood desk. The entire office looks like something that was transposed from a different century. Heavy wood paneling. Leather chairs. Even the lamps have been shaped like old-fashioned candle lanterns while still getting the most out of electricity. Thick velvet curtains are pulled over the windows, blocking out the bright morning light.

  Victor leans forward, clasping his hands together on his desk so his sapphire cuff links clink the wood lightly. “I understand that you were recently released from the infirmary. How are you feeling, Samantha?”

  Like a magical washing machine ran me through its heavy soil cycle. “Quite well, thank you, sir,” I answer smoothly.

  I wonder just how much he knows. How much Reese told him. If Reese speaks to Victor as much as he’s spoken to me the past couple of days, probably very little. Since I first woke up two days ago, there’s been a quiet heaviness saturating the air between Ellis, Reese, and me, the knowledge of a conversation to come hanging over all of us. I know Cassis and Asher stopped in as well, but I was mostly asleep. Or faked being asleep.

  Yes, I can be a coward sometimes, but I’m not sure what to say to any of them. Not after what Sienna’s voice said in those final moments I was conscious. I’d thought the words a dream at first, but I’m more and more convinced they were real. That Ellis and Reese heard them as well.

  But before I can deal with Reese and Ellis, I have to deal with Victor.

  I sit in the chair opposite his desk, resisting the urge to straighten my uniform. My white blouse and blue plaid skirt already mark me as inferior to the grand count without me letting my body language bring attention to it. Or to the fact that Victor is making me nervous. Hell, if I don’t fool him, maybe I can at least fool myself. Faking it was one of the best skills I learned in the foster homes.

  The other thing I learned was to let the other guy speak first. Information is power.

  Silence trickles through the room for a moment before Victor flips open a file on his desk, though I’m willing to bet anything the reference is just for show.

  “I understand your recent illness came upon you after you healed Ellis, who’d been concealing a bout of iron poisoning?” Victor says. “Is that right?”

  “I’m not sure exactly what I did,” I answer. “I was more acting on instinct than anything. But I’m glad it all turned out for the best.”

  “I am not sure the plumbing would agree.” A small smile tugs the corner of Victor’s mouth.

  “No, probably not, sir.” I don’t add that Reese would not agree either.

  Victor sighs, leaning back in his chair and tenting his fingers. “I do regret that things turned out the way they did. Ellis is…prideful. He is here on orders from an overbearing father who thought making an ancient warrior into a first-year cadet was a good means of discipline. If I’d been here at the time, I’d never have allowed it. Such a childish move might appease King Bryant’s personal taste, but for the rest of the cadets—such as yourself—its effects have ranged from disruptive to downright dangerous.” Victor shakes his head ruefully. “There are a great many choices I would have made otherwise had I all the information at hand.”

  The last part of that is clearly a bait, though I can’t for the life of me figure out what he’s leading me toward. Still, I walk through the door that he’s opened. Information is inf
ormation, and I can’t afford to scoff at it just because it happens to come from Victor’s lips. I certainly don’t scoff at the runes he shows me.

  “What information would have led you to a different decision, sir?” I ask.

  “Well, knowing Ellis’s medical situation, for starters. The male didn’t just have a severe case of iron poisoning—he kept it from everyone.”

  Bullshit. Reese knew. Did he not tell Victor, or is Victor lying? Keeping the thoughts to myself, I nod along sympathetically, encouraging the male to continue.

  “If I’d been aware of the severity of the situation, I’d have insisted Ellis return to Talon to recuperate. The care he’d have received there, with fae healers, would have been more effective than anything we could do here. Well, nearly anything.” He gives me another wry smile. “Plus, fae have their full magic in Talon, which would certainly have helped Ellis battle the iron poisoning. Do you think…” Victor’s face changes, his sharp features tightening in concern, and he leans toward me. “I hate asking this question, but I feel it would be irresponsible not to. Samantha, do you think Ellis may have stayed here on purpose? As a test to see if your powers were capable of countering iron?”

  “I don’t see why he would care, sir,” I say. “Ellis was whipped for helping me, and he’s made no secret of wanting nothing to do with me since.” The last forty-eight hours notwithstanding.

  “Don’t be naïve, Samantha,” Victor says harshly. “It doesn’t become you. If Ellis truly wanted nothing to do with you, he’d have left. I’d have helped him negotiate with his father and the council. No, I think it is safe to say that Ellis remained here for a reason. A witch being able to mitigate the effects of iron in the mortal world—that’s a very powerful tool. Surely you see the value of that?”

  I don’t know what to say to that, except that I don’t think Ellis is manipulating me. Sienna is taking care of that part.

  Victor sighs. “I want you to be very careful, Samantha. It was Ellis and his father who led to your getting to Talonswood—right when Asher was de facto in charge. Neither Asher nor the rest of the fae seem to have an interest in you learning to control your powers, though if my theory is correct, they are curious to explore the extent to which those powers reach. I can’t tell you why or what this might mean, but I wanted you to be aware.”

  “Yes, sir,” I say uncomfortably. Though my neck prickles with unease, I can’t refute any separate part of what Victor said—but I guess that’s his superpower. He speaks in facts while somehow shedding doubt on the truth. “I’ll be aware.”

  “Very good. That is all I ask.” Victor’s face relaxes. “Now then, speaking of control, how are things going with the rune? Once you feel comfortable with the small locks, I’d like to introduce slightly larger objects.”

  27

  Reese

  Reese had been less nervous than this in Afghanistan, where Jack had sent him to retrieve a kid from a nest of asshole vamps who’d snatched the boy from his diplomat parents. Sitting with Ellis and Samantha in the main room of his and Asher’s suite, Reese could barely keep himself still. Finally giving up, he stood and walked over to the door, snapping the lock into place.

  They wouldn’t be interrupted now, at least. Whether that was good or bad, he wasn’t sure. He didn’t like the sensations Samantha’s mere presence sparked in his body, liked even less the ones she sent sweeping through his soul. And yet the week he’d been away had been one of the worst since Sienna. Thinking had been hard. Staying still near impossible. And with every passing day, he’d felt like he was getting physically ill. Fevers were not exactly a common occurrence for vampires, yet his temperature had risen. By the time he’d gotten the kid safe, he didn’t even stay long enough for Jack to make him another offer.

  He got on a plane and came to Talonswood. And then went in to see the witch in the middle of a bloody test, without even bothering to change first, and she’d been sitting there in that pert little skirt that made his cock twitch, and his head had finally stopped throbbing, and his lungs had opened fully, like breaking the surface of a deep, deep lake.

  There was nothing normal about that.

  And given what Sienna’s voice had said in the bathroom, it wasn’t normal.

  Which meant that Ellis was right. The three of them had to talk. Fuck it, the five of them had to talk, but bringing Cassis and Asher into this just now would be like throwing gasoline on a fire. Especially since Reese hadn’t wanted additional company when Samantha inevitably told him how little he mattered. That he was a good fuck and that was that.

  Not only was Reese connected with a witch, he was connected with a witch he didn’t trust. Not when it came to what she could do to him.

  “So, where do we start?” Samantha asked, pulling her leather jacket around her. She wore that jacket as a piece of armor, and Reese wondered whether she knew how the worn leather molded around her full breasts, how when he looked at her bare legs under her school skirt, he could think of nothing but wrapping them around his waist.

  Fuck.

  “With whiskey.” Getting up, Ellis walked over to the liquor shelf and helped himself to three glasses, filling them all with the amber liquid.

  Reese hesitated a moment before accepting his. Taking something from Ellis’s hand was too much of a truce flag—and after the prick had fled to Talon, right back to the king against whom they’d all fought, Reese wasn’t sure he wanted a truce. Finally taking the glass and a long swig of alcohol, Reese turned to Samantha—and cut right to the chase. “I want to know what the hell happened after we had sex.”

  Ellis leaned back in his seat, grinning like an idiot. “Well, if I knew this was going to be the topic of conversation, I’d have pressed for us to chat earlier. Can you back up? I want details, Devinee. How much better am I than the bloodsucker?”

  The witch’s face turned pink, and Reese swore he scented her arousal, a mere brush of what had flooded out of her when he’d taken charge of her in bed—or what passed for one.

  Ellis’s nostrils flared, taking in the same scent Reese just did, but coming to an additional conclusion. “The witch is embarrassed.”

  Sam wheeled on Ellis, her fists tightening. “If you’re so eager to talk, you want to tell me why you’ve been an asshole to me ever since…” She cuts off. “Never mind. I don’t need an explanation. I got you whipped. You hated me. I healed you. Now you have some sort of pity friendship going. And I’m tired of it. Pick a mood and stick to it.”

  Reese raised a brow and swallowed a comment about pots and kettles.

  Ellis’s hand froze with the whiskey glass halfway to his lips. “Bloody hell, Dev, you being responsible for my whipping is the stupidest thing I’ve ever heard. It’s that—that had nothing to do with anything.”

  “Then what sparked the hate, exactly?” Samantha demanded.

  “Nothing.” Ellis rubbed his face. “I didn’t like pushing you away, Devinee. I—”

  “If the next words out of your mouth are even related to ‘it’s not you, it’s me,’ or ‘I just don’t think I’m in a position to provide you with what you deserve,’ please do us both a favor and shove them up your ass,” Sam said. Her body had tightened in on itself as if bracing for a blow, and she was swallowing rapidly. “I’ve been tossed away enough to know how the story goes. I heard enough of that bullshit by age six to stop believing it.”

  Bloody hell. Reese had understood Ellis’s reasons for keeping Samantha in the dark, but when she put it that way…

  Before he could finish the thought, Ellis jumped out of his chair and prowled over to Samantha, covering her mouth with his. The girl gasped lightly as the wolf fae parted her lips predatorily before angling her head and sweeping his tongue into her mouth in a way that made Reese’s rare heartbeat pound against his chest.

  Hades take him, but the witch’s body yielded to Ellis’s demand with such succulent intensity that Reese knew she was already wet. She clung to Ellis’s neck, tiny whimpers caught in her throa
t, and Reese could imagine what he’d feel if he slid his hand between her thighs at just this moment. His cock could imagine it too, waking and pressing against his pants.

  Sam panted as Ellis pulled away, her full lower lip wet and tempting. Taking the witch’s face in his hands, Ellis captured her gaze with his, his own pants bulging as prominently as Reese’s.

  “That was not a thank-you kiss.” Ellis sounded raspy. “In case you were wondering.”

  “What was it?” Sam whispered.

  “The truth,” Reese said quietly, and Ellis didn’t even glare.

  Sam’s face flushed pink again, and Reese wondered whether she’d forgotten he was there altogether until he’d spoken.

  “I want you, Devinee,” Ellis told Sam, his hands flattening on her cheeks. Reese took this as his cue to leave the room as quickly as his feet would carry him, lest he became unable to resist claiming a piece of the witch himself.

  “Don’t think you’re leaving, bloodsucker.” Ellis’s voice hit Reese in the back just as he was a step away from the door.

  “I didn’t know you required direction on what to do next,” Reese said.

  “Don’t you want to join in?” Ellis asked, the bastard clearly enjoying the one-upsmanship. Reese would kill him. Slowly. But not now.

  “You aren’t my type, Ellis,” Reese said.

  “No, but Devinee wants you too.”

  Funny. Reese reached for the door.

  “Wait.” This time, it was Samantha’s voice, her footsteps coming up to him. Her fingers brushing his shoulder in a way that made his whole world narrow down to that soft touch. Her breath hitched, her sweet citrusy smell halting Reese in place no matter how much his brain screamed at him to keep walking. To run. She cleared her throat. “I owe you an explanation too.”