by Sierra Dean
“Rebecca was less than forthcoming with the details. She asked that I secure your assurances and—”
“Yes.” I could feel him building up to a big spiel, and I didn’t have the time for it.
He shot me a disappointed look, scolding me with his eyes for my impatience.
“What?” I replied to his unvoiced disapproval. “You came here to make a request on behalf of your maker. Request granted. Can you stop being such a grumpy bugger now?”
“Oh, Secret.” He hefted a sigh.
“Tell Rebecca I’ll help Genevieve, and I’ll do it without any demand of payment. If I can help her consort, we’re even. Understood?”
“I don’t speak for her, but I suspect that’s the arrangement she had in mind.”
I puffed up, grinning. Man, I was getting pretty good at this vampire political stuff. First, I’d cut our hunter down a few pegs, and now I was bartering over the redress cost of a vampire’s life. My grin faded, and the knot in my throat doubled in size.
God. Who was I becoming?
Holden seemed to notice the change in my demeanor because he forced a smile and put an arm around my shoulder, pulling me in for a hug that felt awkward, especially when he patted me on the back twice, two hard thumps.
“Don’t worry. It’s not like you’re selling your soul,” he crooned, as if he’d read my mind. “You’ll help the cat queen. It will be like one of your old cases.”
Yeah, Keaty was famous for being a fan of pro-bono cases that put us under the thumb of a vampire elder.
I sighed. What was done was done. I’d agreed to take on Genevieve’s case, and I would help her. The implications could be dealt with later. For now I would file the whole thing under helping a friend in need so I could think about it without getting dizzy.
This time it was my turn to say, “Let’s go.”
A wave of bodies surged forward through the main doors of Madison Square Garden, and I was caught up in the swell. I wasn’t a fan of crowds at the best of times, so Lucas had to know I was making an effort when I agreed to meet him here to see a Rangers game.
I’d grown up in Canada, so a love for hockey was as second nature as breathing, but I liked to watch it from the safety of my living room, or on the TV at a downtrodden sports bar. The only reason I’d agreed to come was that it was a late-night charity fundraiser game, and I hadn’t expected it to be busy. Turns out I know nothing about crowd mentality when it comes to hockey. This many people all crushed together, their adrenaline pumping, their pulses twitching with the vigor of their collective excitement…
My gums ached, and my breath hitched.
Stupid wolf king and his bright ideas. We’d be lucky if I got to the second period without singling out the old and the weak. I was already scanning the crowd for easy targets.
I didn’t feed on humans. It was one of those rules I had etched in stone, a line in the sand I would never step over. My blood came from donor bags and was stored safely in my fridge at home. But just because I didn’t allow myself to feed on people didn’t mean the urge wasn’t there. I was half-vampire, and the siren song of blood could sometimes crash into me with a demanding frenzy, like a heroin junkie aching for one more fix.
If I didn’t get hold of myself, I was going to be in trouble. I could feel my sharp canines throbbing against my gums, begging for release, and I had no doubt my pupils were swelling to take over my brown irises.
It wasn’t like I hadn’t thought ahead. I’d eaten before leaving the council headquarters, indulging in the small blood supply I’d insisted they keep there for me when I’d realized they expected me to feed on living donors like they did. But you wouldn’t know I’d taken proactive measures now. The din of Madison Square Garden was threatening to turn me into the monster I was capable of being.
A shudder rippled through me as the flavor of cinnamon filled my mouth. My lupine energy awoke like a sleeping dragon and expanded outward until my whole body vibrated with the blistering heat of it. It quieted the vampire urges.
I hadn’t realized how tense I was until my inner wolf curbed the out-of-control-vampire part of me. Usually it was the cool, collected vampire who kept my wolf on a leash, but this time my lycanthrope nature had been called out in the nick of time. And she hadn’t woken up because of me.
She was awake because of the heady taste in my mouth telling me the wolf king was nearby.
He might never know how close to the edge I’d been, but he’d pulled me back just in time. My heart leapt. I didn’t love Lucas the way I loved Desmond, but it didn’t mean I felt nothing for him.
I spun on my heels, scanning the crowd for Lucas. Under normal circumstances he wouldn’t be difficult to spot. Tall, blond and handsome, he drew attention wherever we went. But with this many people around, he’d be playing it cool, toning down his larger-than-life aura the best he could. Being a media-shy billionaire meant he had learned how to blend, even though he was born to stand out.
The Red Sox ball cap gave him away.
God love my werewolf boyfriends, but the one thing they couldn’t agree on was baseball. They had the same taste in movies, music, food and obviously women, but they turned into bitter rivals when the topic of the MLB came up. Desmond was New York proud to the core and swore he bled Yankee blue. Lucas was such a big Boston fan he’d actually purchased the franchise. They could share a girlfriend, but they would come to blows over the World Series. Go figure.
Lucas sidled up to me, and though my heels gave me a slight advantage, I still needed to look up to see his smile. Funny how his silly grin could light a spark inside me, even when I was worried I might start biting people any second. The reaction I had to Lucas was akin to ice cream melting on a piece of hot apple pie. Sticky-sweet and instantly comforting.
He stooped and gave me a chaste kiss on the lips, placing both his big hands on the small of my back, sending a wave of warmth through my lower body. I grazed his chin with my nose, then kissed the bow in his lower lip as the last of my anxiety shivered out of me. It was no secret how ecstatic I’d been when he shaved off his beard a few months earlier. His stubbled chin was as much facial hair as I wanted to deal with when we got to smooching.
“Hi,” he whispered, tugging at my fancy hairdo. “You’re a little dressed up for hockey.”
I twisted my mouth into a sly smile. “Yeah, sorry. I’m meeting my billionaire boyfriend here. You’d better not let him see you flirting with me. He’s real mean.”
“Oh yeah? Big, brawny, jealous type?” He pulled me closer. The crowd had started to thin as people moved into the arena to find their seats.
“You know it.” I took one of his hands in mine and stepped out of his embrace. Without letting go of my grip, he spun me so his arm was looped around my shoulder and we were still holding hands.
“Let’s get upstairs.” His tone was more serious than before, but there was no edge of lust to the words. He wanted to talk business, not go at it in his private box. My assessment was confirmed when he added, “Something’s happened, and we need to talk about it before the whole pack finds out.”
Great. As far as date nights with Lucas went, we were right on schedule. A little sweet talk, followed with a heavy dose of serious business.
Chapter Three
In hindsight, wearing red to a Rangers game when they were playing the Jersey Devils was not my wisest fashion decision ever. The dirty looks I got on our way to the boxes, coupled with clever one-liners like, “Stupid she-Devil” made me wonder at the mob potential of a crowd of hockey fans. Thankfully we didn’t have to share the box with anyone.
We took our seats close to the front with all the pretense of actually watching the game. Now that we were away from all the people, part of me really wanted to relive the thrill of watching night pond hockey games in Elmwood like I’d been able to as a kid, but Lucas had other plans in mind. He stroked his chin, a habit he’d picked up when he’d had a beard that had stuck with him when the hair was gone.
“It must be bad if you’re stroking the invisible beard.”
“That sounds like a ninth-grade euphemism for masturbation.” He tried to smile, but it came out half-broken and grim.
“Out with it, then. Rip the Band-Aid off.”
“We’ve got trouble.”
“You say that like it’s something unusual. Hello, King of the Obvious, we always have trouble.” I tried to give my words a joking quality, but his frown told me I’d struck a nerve. I was incredibly skilled at that.
“One of the Alphas in the southwest corner of my territory is turning traitor. He’s being courted by another king and is going to try to take the region with him.”
“A hostile takeover?”
“More or less.”
“Do we know which king?” Please say west, please say west, please say west.
“No one is owning up to it yet, but I have my suspicions.”
“You think it’s my uncle, don’t you?”
The thin line of his mouth twitched, but Lucas said nothing and stared ahead at the hockey game. The players had barely been on the ice five minutes, but already someone was punching the hell out of a forward from the Devils.
Lucas neither confirmed nor denied, but asked, “What do you know about him?”
“I’ve never even met the man.”
Lucas gave me a serious look, the one that meant I wasn’t with my boyfriend anymore. Now I was Pack Protector and he was King. As he was fond of telling me, this wasn’t a time to be glib.
“Callum McQueen. Son of Elmore and Vivienne McQueen. Brother of Mercy and Savannah. Currently unmarried with no heir apparent. In his late thirties, now, I believe. From what Grandmere told me, he was fifteen when she left, so he’d be thirty-seven or thirty-eight.”
“What else?”
I felt like asking, Do you see a fucking dossier in front of me? But I managed to refrain.
“Elmore chose him as the successor for his throne instead of his two older sisters. I don’t know how Savannah felt about it, but I have a good idea about Mercy’s reaction.”
Lucas kept staring at me.
“What?” I asked finally. “Do you want me to call Grandmere and grill her for information on her youngest? As far as I know she hasn’t spoken to Callum in twenty years.”
“Do you think he’s bitter about that?”
“You mean do I think he blames me for her leaving. That’s what you’re thinking, so just say it.”
“Okay. Do you think Callum harbors a grudge against you?”
“Probably. It seems to be a popular hobby for the McQueens.”
“Secret…”
“I know. Glib. Gotcha.”
“Do you think his resentment is enough to motivate him to move on my territory?”
“I don’t know.”
My uncle was a relatively young king, as was Lucas. Both had inherited the heavy burden of the crown from their fathers before them, and all I saw were similarities. Maybe Lucas should be asking himself if he’d be willing to move on another king’s territory if the opportunity presented itself, rather than trying to view me as the weak link in his chain.
“Morgan thinks we should set up a meeting between you and Callum.”
“Oh she does, does she?”
Morgan Scott, Lucas’s new enforcer, had risen in the pack ranks after Desmond became the Queen’s Guard and moved in with me. Lucas needed someone to pick up the slack of Desmond’s former responsibilities, and Morgan was the next strongest wolf in his pack. Now she ranked just below Desmond and me, and she loved to remind me it was only a short climb to the top if I should fall out of favor.
Sometimes I think she was willing to give a little extra push.
It wasn’t that Morgan hated me. I knew enough people who genuinely loathed me to be able to tell the difference. She was motivated, she lusted for power, and she saw me as an outside force blocking her path. I respected her drive, but I wasn’t about to give up Lucas so she could be queen instead.
“I think it’s a good idea,” Lucas said.
“And if Callum really does harbor a grudge, aren’t we giving him a golden opportunity to get rid of me?”
The crowd erupted into an ear-splitting cheer as the Rangers scored a goal.
“If he kills you at an official summit, it’s a capital offense. All the kingdoms would come down on him in force.”
“But I’d still be dead.”
“You’re pretty hard to kill,” he reminded me.
I sighed. “Where is the territory?”
“Nebraska.”
“Oh God. Let him have it.”
Lucas leaned back and stared at the ceiling, probably asking himself for the millionth time how he got stuck with me. “We need to send someone out there to try and stabilize the region. If that fails, we have to confirm who the Alpha is in cahoots with.” He ignored me when I snickered at the word cahoots, point one for Lucas. “Only if it turns out a McQueen agent is responsible for the unrest will I consider calling a summit. But, Secret, I need us to be a united front on this.”
“I’ve been nothing but supportive of the pack,” I said defensively.
“But you aren’t really a part of the pack.”
This had been a point of contention between us for months. I’d been actively involved in pack politics and stood by his side at all pack meetings. I knew every single member of the Manhattan region pack and could name every Alpha in Lucas’s territory. So I didn’t run with them under the full moon? Was that really the be-all end-all?
“I don’t know what more you want from me.”
He scrubbed his hands over his face, then cupped my knee under his palm. “Forget it. Forget I said anything.”
Since being naturally argumentative was one of my uglier character traits, a wash of bile-sharpened words stung the back of my throat, but I managed to swallow them down. Just this once I would let him get away with saying something stupid and hurtful. He’d saved me from myself earlier, and I’d let him have this one.
The Rangers trampled the Devils seven-to-two, and Lucas dropped me off at my apartment with a promise to make up for our disastrous date by cooking me dinner the next night. It would have to be a hell of a meal, considering I didn’t eat human food for the most part, and he’d managed to make me feel about as big as a wood tick.
Maybe he’d let me bite him. That might help me feel better.
Where the hell did that thought come from? I don’t want to bite my boyfriend.
But I did. I couldn’t explain it, but the second Lucas was out of sight I was fantasizing about sinking my fangs into the trembling pulse of his throat and ripping the hot artery open.
I shuddered, and it was only half from repulsion.
Chapter Four
The ceiling in Francis Keats’s office was fascinating.
The dark red paint looked like blood, and it was also a great place to look when I didn’t want to meet the eyes of the private detective of all things paranormal who was sitting across the desk from me.
“Answer the question, Secret.”
“Sorry, I forgot what it was.”
“No, you didn’t.”
I buried my bare toes in the new plush rug under my chair, and my hands tightened on the leather armrests. Keaty hated to repeat himself almost as much as he hated to make guesses.
“Okay, yes. I’m having some control issues.”
“Define some.”
“Um… I almost lost it at Madison Square Garden last night. Only Lucas showing up kept me from getting all fangy.” I held my index fingers up to my mouth to mimic fangs, but I probably looked more like a pathetic, demented walrus.
Keaty didn’t look amused.
“This is serious, Secret,” he told me, as if his face hadn’t said as much already.
“It’s not like I bit anyone.”
“But you wanted to.”
“Yeah, but I mean, I want to kill lots of people sometimes. It doesn’t mean I do it.”
&nb
sp; His frown deepened, which I hadn’t thought was possible. Keaty probably came out of the womb scowling. “There’s a big difference between wanting to hypothetically dismember a cabbie who almost runs you over, and trying to eat the still-beating hearts out of fifteen thousand hockey fans.”
I pshawed. “There’s no way I’d have gotten them all.”
“No, certainly someone would have killed you before then.”
Silence filled the space between us. He’d successfully made his point.
“You think it’s because of the Tribunal, don’t you?”
“Is that what you think?” he asked.
“Yes.”
He balled his fists together and leaned forward on his desk. “Have you discussed this with Sig?”
“Not yet.” I bit my lower lip. “I’m worried if I do, he’ll throw a ‘yay, you’re a vampire’ party for me. I’m not quite ready to accept that that’s what’s happening. In the meantime I want to talk to Calliope, see if she knows what it means. But I have an appointment with Genevieve Renard first.”
Keaty raised both brows. “What business do you have with Ms. Renard?”
“I don’t know. I’m doing it as a favor to Holden’s maker because of that nasty subway incident. I still don’t know what Genevieve wants.”
His jaw strained under the pressure of keeping his mouth shut.
“I know, Keaty. Never owe favors to vampires. Just like you never thank a fairy, and you always get cash upfront. Trust me, I remember the rules, but this is different.”
“How? How is it different?”
“I don’t know. It just is.”
There was a tentative knock at the door, and Nolan poked his head in. His chocolate-brown eyes were wide, and a flush brightened his cinnamon-colored cheeks. “There’s a Genevieve ’ere to see Secret?” He phrased it like a question.
