by Juniper Hart
He shrugged.
“After high school is college, and then law school,” he told her mischievously. “I think you have a real knack for this law thing.”
“I think you’re just trying to devise a way to spend more time with me,” Lane joked. “I don’t think you see me enough between work and the Council and living here.”
“I could never get enough of being around you,” Henry agreed. “And I’m not promising you a partnership. I just think that you’re wasting your talents as receptionist.”
Lane studied him quietly, tracing a long finger over the rim of her wine glass. How much had changed in the last year? Who would have thought they would have reached such a place of peace between them?
It was hard to imagine that they had started out so difficult. Gone were the doubts that had plagued Lane in every regard. She was a firm member of the Council, despite her turning into a vampire. At first, there had been some tension about the future of the witches on the Council.
“We’re all immortal now,” Lane said firmly. “No more awkward changes every generation.”
In the end, they had opted to stay as they were, though she wondered if it wouldn’t come up again in the future. Still, even Laurel and Landon seemed to have relaxed around her. Lane, however, could tell that had more to do with Henry than it did her.
She had never been so sure about where she was going in her life or more confident in her relationship with Henry.
“I don’t know if I have it in me to go to law school for a thousand years,” she said, taking another sip of her wine. “But I’m not opposed to going back to college.”
“You have time,” Henry cracked. After her nod of agreement, he spoke again. “Do you know what today is?” he asked, leaning forward.
The smile on Lane’s face froze. “Tuesday?”
“It’s the one-year anniversary of the day you almost ran away from the Council,” Henry answered, chuckling. “And I have something for you.” He rose from the high-backed chair and disappeared into his study.
And I had no idea we were celebrating, Lane thought wryly.
Henry returned a minute later with a sealed envelope in his hand.
“This is from your predecessor,” he told her seriously. “Miriam didn’t want you to open it until the one-year anniversary of your vows.”
A deep melancholy touched Lane’s heart, and she reached for the envelope tentatively.
“Grandma must be spinning in her grave right now,” she murmured.
“If that’s what you believe, I don’t think you knew your grandmother that well,” Henry said softly. “Read the letter. I’ll leave you alone.”
“No, wait!” Lane cried. “I don’t want you to leave.”
“You sure?”
She nodded and opened the creamy white outer case to reveal a single page in Miriam’s exquisite calligraphy. Instantly, tears welled in her eyes, but Lane blinked them aside, determined not to let the saline fall onto the ink to blot.
She cleared her throat.
“Dearest Laney,” she began aloud. “I am writing this because I am dead.”
She snorted, her grandmother’s humor macabre but hilarious.
“She always did know how to state the obvious, didn’t she?” Henry tittered.
“I guess you already know that,” Lane continued reading, sighing. “But there is another reason for this. Primarily because it is tradition for the Aldwins to leave letters, forewarning their successors about the members of the Council. For example, Landon is a world class jackass when he’s in a mood, and Laurel can be a Grade A bitch when she and Jasmine are fighting.”
Lane snickered and looked at Henry.
“Oh, please tell me what she says about me,” he begged.
“But really, I’m writing to you for other reasons entirely,” Lane went on, her eyes fixed on the words. “I have the utmost faith in you, Lane, more than you realize. I know that your mother has kept you away from the world to the best of her ability, and that her reasons make sense to her. I tried to intervene, and that only got me alienated from both of your lives. I just want you to understand that I never stopped objecting to what Julia was doing, but there was little I could do to stop her. You were fed, educated and sheltered. As far as I knew, she hadn’t raised a hand to you, but her abuse materialized in other ways. Still, I never saw the fire leave your eyes. I knew you would persevere in the end, and I can only hope that is true today.
“There is one other matter I want to discuss, and that is the spell I cast over the unmatched members of the Council. You are the reason I cast that spell, Lane. Your mate is Henry, something I have always known. I know he will pursue you from the moment he sees you, but I worry that you will reject him because of your own insecurities. If you have not overcome those doubts, Lane, I urge you to do that now. You and Henry are a formidable team and will empower the Council more together than you ever could on your own.”
Lane’s voice caught, and she looked at Henry in disbelief.
“Did she tell you we were mates?” she demanded.
“Of course not! I would have used that as my pick-up line.”
Lane smirked and shook her head. “In short, have faith in yourself and in Henry, the same way I have. I know the Aldwin legacy will prevail as it always has. I love you, child. Grandma.”
She couldn’t stop the flood of tears now, and she put the page aside as she sobbed. Henry’s strong arms embraced her.
“She was a good one,” he murmured. “I told you she was proud of you.”
Lane nodded and dabbed at her eyes with a linen napkin, sniffling.
“She was good,” she mumbled, smiling up at her lover. “And so, so wise.”
Forbidden Wolf
Council of Seven
Prologue
Katia slapped his face with so much force, it took his breath away. Landon couldn’t help laughing, even though that was not the reaction she was expecting, but what else could he do? She wasn’t the first to smack him, and she likely wouldn’t be the last, either.
“You’re a pig, Landon Burke!” Katia howled. “How dare you string me along?”
He stared at her with wide, innocent eyes, even though his square jaw was still stinging from the slap. She’s tougher than she looks, he thought with bemusement. He was vaguely aware of the eyes of his companions on him, but it wasn’t anything they hadn’t witnessed before.
“String you along?” he asked in feigned shock. “I’ve barely said two words to you since we slept together!”
Beside him, Laurel and Miriam grunted in unison at his response. Landon paid them no mind as he kept his emerald gaze fixed on the incensed fairy before him.
“One day, Landon Burke, you’ll get what’s coming to you, and you’ll be so sorry for the way you’ve treated me and everyone else you’ve screwed over!”
“Katia, you should stick to sprinkling magic and leave the soothsaying to the witches,” he retorted dryly, finally casting his companions a sidelong look.
The fairy queen and witch looked into their drinks as though they were the most interesting concoctions either had ever seen. They were more embarrassed by the display than he was, apparently.
I guess I shouldn’t have expected the ladies to side with me on this matter, he thought.
“One day,” Katia hissed again, spinning away so that her white-blonde hair fanned around her shoulders dramatically. “You’ll see.”
“See you around!” Landon called, flopping back against the booth with relief as he saw she was finally done making her scene. Exhaling, he flashed his friends a cocky grin, brilliant eyeteeth almost blinding against the dimness of the bar.
“Sorry about that,” he chirped lightly. “Women.” There was an uncomfortable silence, and Landon felt himself growing defensive. “What? Like you’ve never had a one-night stand before?” he demanded. He instantly realized who his audience was and exhaled a whoosh of air.
Tough crowd, he mused silently.
&
nbsp; “Landon,” Laurel sighed. “One day, you’ll understand the importance of finding your mate, and—”
“Okay, okay,” Landon stopped her. “Let’s not do this, all right? We’re having a friendly drink.” He cast Miriam a wry smile and winked coyly. “Anyway, I have nothing to worry about. Miriam already cast the spell to ensure that happens, right?” The sarcasm in his voice was almost palpable, but neither woman smiled.
“Oh, come on,” he growled, his good mood dissipating entirely. “We’re supposed to be unwinding after that Council meeting. Can we not do this tonight?”
“As you wish,” the witch agreed, shooting Laurel a look which was clearly meant to silence her. “Not another word on the subject.”
On cue, Laurel’s partner, Jasmine, appeared at the table, rolling her blue eyes skyward.
“What is it with you and this bar?” Jasmine demanded in exasperation, falling into the booth beside her lover. She and Laurel exchanged a quick kiss before turning their attention back toward the others.
“What’s wrong with this place?” Landon asked, reaching for his beer. He was slightly annoyed at where Jasmine had chosen to sit, but he made no comment in the matter, casually moving his head to look around her blonde mane.
“Parking. Parking is what’s wrong with this place,” Jasmine muttered. “There’s a parking lot that fits exactly six cars. What’s the point? Why is this always where we meet when we’re in Seattle?”
Miriam gave Landon an inquisitive look.
“That’s a good question,” she agreed. Landon ignored her, his eyes still moving around the bar. “It’s Landon’s choice, isn’t it?”
“We’ve been coming here for two years,” he reminded Miriam. “Who can remember why we started?”
Of course it was a lie. There was a reason he’d chosen to come back time and again, every time the Council met on his turf and otherwise. The rest of the Seven didn’t know that he frequented The Quarry on his own, as if it called to him subconsciously. He couldn’t say why he was drawn to the little hole-in-the-wall pub at the corner of Columbia and Boren. It didn’t attract the art crowd from the museum, nor did it really suit Landon’s taste for expensive scotch and elitist women. In fact, running into Katia there had been shocking, to say the least. She was more at home in a swanky martini bar near the pier than at The Quarry.
He shoved the reason out of his mind and focussed his attention back on the ladies in his company.
“I think there’s a reason you continue to drag us here,” Jasmine insisted, narrowing her cerulean eyes. “To torture me.”
“Will you just order a drink and stop your whining?” Landon teased her, signaling for a waitress. One appeared almost instantly, eyeing him with a look the Lycan knew well.
Or maybe I do know why I keep coming here, he thought with some smugness. The turnover is high. There’s a new server every time. The risk of being slapped in the face is minimal under normal circumstances. He smiled at the redheaded server warmly, leaning toward her conspiratorially.
“My friend is wound up tight,” he told her in a staged whisper. “What can you suggest that will settle her nerves?”
“Oh, I have a perfect solution for that,” the redhead purred at him, winking a slate grey eye, and the women at the table groaned in unison.
“Get me a vodka soda,” Jasmine quipped. “You two can get it on in an alleyway later.”
The waitress didn’t even look embarrassed, much to Landon’s amusement. She sashayed off, leaving him to watch her go, a soft sigh escaping his lips as he examined her perfectly shaped cheeks beneath the too-tight skirt.
Jasmine might be a sound prophet after all. The alleyway sounds appealing right about now.
“Landon,” Miriam purred quietly. “You can’t escape the spell forever.”
He reluctantly turned and looked at the older witch, his brows raising.
“You act as though I’m trying to escape,” he told her mockingly. “You cast it years ago, and not one of us has found our respective mates. Maybe you’re losing your touch, Miriam.”
The words were meant to sting, but Miriam held her quiet dignity and returned his jesting grin with a tight smile of her own.
“You’ll see, my boy,” she assured him. “You’ll see.”
He shrugged nonchalantly. “I suppose I will,” he retorted, growing annoyed with the conversation. “In the meantime, I wish you wouldn’t ruin my buzz with talk about nonsense.”
He waved his perfectly manicured hand dismissively, his good mood vanishing as Miriam’s words weighed heavily on his mind. A leopard never changes its spots, and a wolf never changes its howl. She can’t honestly believe that her spell has done a damned thing for any of us.
Landon knew that Miriam’s intentions had been pure when she set the spell, hoping that the Council members would end up as happy as she had, but the Lycan found happiness in other ways. In fact, he found happiness every night. He was just not a one-woman kind of man.
The redhead returned almost immediately, sliding the drink alluringly across the table so that her cleavage fell directly into Landon’s line of sight. He licked his lips and met her gaze.
“What time are you off?” he asked boldly, more because he was proving a point to Miriam than because he was genuinely interested in meeting the waitress that night.
“I have a feeling you can get me off any time,” she breathed, and Landon laughed.
“Challenge accepted,” he said, but he wasn’t speaking to her entirely. His words were directed at Miriam, who stared at him with wise sadness.
She doesn’t know what the hell she’s talking about, and I’ll prove it, Landon thought firmly.
1
Christiana glowered from her spot behind the bar, her long fingers poised frozen over the cash register.
“What’s wrong?” Wren demanded, looking up from her order as she caught Christiana’s expression out of the corner of her chocolate brown eyes. The evening crowd was filling up faster than she could keep up, and the last thing she needed was Christiana losing her groove. Wren knew better than anyone that once they lost the crowd, regaining control would be nearly impossible.
“It’s him,” Christiana grumbled, nodding her chin toward the entranceway. Wren looked toward where she had gestured, but it was difficult to know who she meant when the nightclub was already crammed with bodies, half of whom were male.
“Him who?” Wren asked, trying to keep the irritation from her voice. She could guess what her co-worker was getting uptight about: a failed hook-up or an ex-boyfriend.
“Preston Sylvan,” Christiana muttered. “And his stupid entourage.”
Wren tensed slightly, realizing who Christiana was referring to. She also paused, brushing a strand of dark hair away from her face, and peered at the newcomer.
Not today, she thought. Not in the mood for this today.
There was never a good day to entertain a man like Preston Sylvan or his hideous twin, Pearson, but inevitably, their paths would cross, and Wren would be faced with her past, despite her inherent desire to escape it.
There is no escape while I remain in Seattle. I need to get out of here if I want any semblance of peace.
Of course, that was much easier said than done. How could one simply up and move cities without the means to do it? Wren darted her eyes away before the group could see her.
“Just ignore them,” she said quickly. “We’ve got more orders than we can handle as it is. We’re not going to engage in their bullshit tonight.”
“Too late,” Christiana mumbled, and Wren gritted her teeth.
“Well, well, well,” Pearson drawled, nudging his twin as they approached the bar. “Look who it is.”
“There’s a line,” Wren told them flatly without meeting Pearson’s beady eyes. “Get in it.” She purposely turned her classic profile aside and pretended to dismiss them, though she knew they wouldn’t go so easily.
“Oh?” Preston jeered. “You can’t squeeze in a coupl
e drinks for old friends?”
“You’re not my friends,” Wren hissed. “Get in line or screw off. I’m not going to tell you again.”
The twins howled with laughter, baring their canines maliciously, but Wren was hardly intimidated by them. She’d known them almost since birth, and what scared others about them only served to infuriate her.
“Oh, Wren,” Pearson chuckled. “Lighten up. Why do you always have such a stick up your ass?”
Wren slid the drink across the bar toward the waiting patron and forced a smile as the woman reached for it. You won’t shift. You will not go for his jugular, no matter how much you want to.
“Oh, look!” Preston called. “It’s Christiana! Hi, sweetie!”
“Are you two high or deaf?” Wren barked at them. “Get lost before I call security!”
The twins snickered and turned back to look at their friends, who seemed just as amused by Wren’s threats.
“Hey,” Preston said loudly, leaning across the bar. “There’s a call out for your brother. Have you seen him around lately? It’s important.”
Wren’s breaths were escaping in short rasps as she realized she was about to lose her temper entirely, but before she could fully explode, Christiana stepped in.
“I’ll get your stupid drinks,” she snapped, perhaps sensing Wren’s discontent. “Hurry up and order.”
“Hey!” There was a swell of protests from the bar, and Wren scowled at Christiana.
“No,” Wren insisted. “They can wait just like everyone else.” She yanked Christiana by the arm and pulled her aside, their eyes clashing. “If you keep giving into them, they’ll keep acting like this,” Wren hissed. “Screw them. Come on.”
She pulled Christiana toward the waiting customers and began to focus on their drinks, blatantly disregarding the twins’ rising voices in her ears.
“If they keep this up, call Saul over to get rid of them,” Wren instructed, glancing up, hoping to catch the head of security’s attention herself. It was going to take more than the usual bouncers to get those idiots out if they didn’t leave peacefully, and Wren had no doubt that they were out to make trouble. It was in their nature—theirs and the rest of the pack’s.
