by Moira Rogers
Derek looked away before the temptation overtook him. “Yeah. I think so.”
“Good.” Andrew tossed the bucket on the ladder between them. “Can I ask you something?”
“Sure.”
“Do you have the urge to just kick my ass? Because I want to punch you, and I don’t get it.”
Derek bit off a laugh. “Welcome to my world. I was just thinking about taking a swing at you.”
Instead of looking relieved, Andrew flashed him a disgruntled look. “I understand why Alec would bug me, but you’re my best friend. I don’t want to fight with you…but I do.”
He tried to remember the way Alec had explained it to him. “Because we’re both tough assholes, and the wolves like to know for sure who’s tougher.”
Andrew looked surprised by his own nod of agreement. “That makes sense. In a completely nonsensical way.”
“It’s not going to be the same with the women, just so you know.” Derek took a deep breath and concentrated on smoothing the spackle knife over the wall. “I mean, sometimes it will. But you might be more interested in”—love—“fucking before fighting.”
“So I hear.” His ears turned pink. “So long as the urge to hump women’s legs doesn’t overwhelm me, I think I’ll make it.”
His sanity would be much preserved by not knowing what kind of urges Andrew might have now, especially where they related to Kat. “It’ll get better,” he said vaguely. “It did for me.”
“I remember,” Andrew said somberly.
The knife’s handle snapped in Derek’s hand as the thoughts he’d so carefully guarded circled around to Nick and the way he’d felt every time he’d seen her. Casual flirtation had turned into a deadly serious game overnight, until all he could see when he closed his eyes was the fantasy of her head thrown back and her lips forming his name…
He slapped his palm against the wall, and the magical wards zapped him so hard he jumped back with a muffled noise. “Fuck. Fuck, I’ve got to get out of here.”
Andrew didn’t say anything, just thumped the lid back on the bucket and hammered it into place with two careful blows of his fist.
Nick could see Michelle quaking from across their father’s office. “Are you cold?”
“No.” The denial came too fast, as if her sister hadn’t even heard her. Michelle sat with her ankles crossed and her hands resting primly in her lap, but her white-knuckled grip was as obvious as her trembling.
“All this waiting gives me ulcers.” Nick rose and paced behind the desk. “Stupid sexist bullshit.”
“Nick.” Michelle’s voice was nothing more than a whisper. “I—I have to say something. Before we go in there.”
Goose bumps broke out on her arms, and Nick had to catch herself before she started shaking her head. Instead, she walked over and knelt in front of Michelle. “What is it?”
Michelle’s eyes looked huge in her pale face, and so lost. She curled her hands around Nick’s fingers and took a slow, careful breath. “I don’t want you to do this. Whatever they’re going to ask…it’s not fair.”
“I don’t think they care about what’s fair.” She smoothed a stray lock of hair behind Michelle’s ear. “We all do what we have to do, sweetie. That’s all.”
Tears welled up, and her sister closed her eyes. “I feel so selfish. You’re in love with him, Nicky. I see it. I feel it. I’m letting you throw your life away because I can’t let them take my child.”
“Please stop.” Nick took a deep breath and hugged Michelle. “I love him, but I can’t let the Conclave take your child either. Derek understands that. Just…let me do this for you.”
Michelle’s tears fell fast and hot against her shoulder. “Does—does Derek know?”
She’d spoken to Mackenzie that morning, and she’d told her about the tense conversation where Jackson had told Derek the truth. “He knows.”
Michelle’s arms came around her. “I’m so, so sorry.”
If she started crying she wouldn’t stop, and Nick refused to let the Conclave see that. “We should be focused on you right now. You and Aaron and this kid.”
“Aaron doesn’t think he’s going to survive this. He spent all morning making me listen to him talk about what to do when he’s gone, but he got so upset when I tried to stop him.” Her voice broke. “He—he said goodbye when I left. Like he wasn’t going to see me again.”
“He tried that with me.” She would have said or done anything to rid her sister’s voice of that soft note of resignation. “But I refuse to accept that, because I fixed it. You’ll see.”
Michelle lifted her head and caught Nick’s hand. “Did anyone tell you? About the baby, I mean. The magical midwife examined me again. She told the Conclave I’m having a son.”
A boy. “Michelle, that’s—”
The office door swung open, and their father’s assistant stuck his head in. “They’re ready for you in the conference room.”
Nick shivered and rose, holding her hand out to Michelle. “Come on, sweetie. Let’s get this done so you can see Aaron again.”
Michelle wiped her cheeks and smoothed her hair into place needlessly, a ritual Nick recognized. She was donning her public persona, the one she struggled to keep in place for her own safety. Quiet, obedient, harmless. Michelle seemed to shrink into herself as she rose until she was little more than a shadow.
A shadow whose powerful magic vibrated in the air between them when she took Nick’s hand. “I’m ready.”
The walk down the cold, sterile hallway took too long. Nick’s mind began to race with possibilities, contingencies for which she hadn’t planned. What if they won’t let go of the child? Aaron? If the mess with Talbot scared them too badly to let Michelle—
Her mind mercifully blanked out before they reached the meeting, and she did nothing more than breathe and cling to Michelle’s hand as they walked inside.
The small, lacquered board table stretched out before them. The seat in the middle of the table was empty, and their father stood behind the table and off to one side. The rest of the Conclave members filled the other four seats.
Tense power made the air heavy. Whatever decision the Conclave had arrived at, it hadn’t been a choice made easily, and not everyone agreed. Veronica’s father Noah sat, tight-jawed and furious, on the right side of the table, his gaze fixed straight ahead and his shoulders stiff. Next to him, Jorge Ochoa seemed almost relaxed, though his sharp eyes assessed Nick in an uncomfortably proprietary fashion.
Enrica Maglieri watched her the same way, with a smug certainty that made Nick want to scream. Only Conrad Hoffman seemed capable of hiding his feelings. He nodded politely to them both before speaking to the man standing just inside the door. “Please, bring a chair for the Seer, and Miss Peyton, too, if she’d like one.”
Noah Coleman’s lips pressed into a tight line.
It was then that Nick realized she must have won some measure of leniency for Michelle. The rest of them would never have been so solicitous otherwise. “Thank you, Mr. Hoffman.”
He smiled as someone placed a chair behind Michelle, who sank into it as if her knees couldn’t quite hold her. “Of course. The Conclave has reached a decision and apprised your father of it. Hopefully you’ll find the compromise to your satisfaction.”
Nick remained standing, and she looked at each of the Conclave members in turn. Fear churned in her stomach, but she managed a smile. “I look forward to hearing what you’ve decided.”
When she returned her gaze to Hoffman, he nodded again, and this time it seemed almost respectful. “It is our decision that your sister be released to your custody today. She’ll be restricted to the city unless her travel plans are vetted and approved by the Conclave. When outside of New York, she’ll be accompanied by a Conclave-appointed bodyguard to ensure her safety and the safety of her child.”
Michelle had always had to follow those rules. Nick tensed even as relief began to unfurl inside her. “What about the child?”
&n
bsp; “The child will remain with the Seer. The midwife we consulted seems certain the baby has none of his mother’s magical aptitude, but I feel it’s only fair to stress that this compromise is contingent on that holding true. You’ll understand that different arrangements will be made if the child is born with magic.”
They didn’t need to spell it out. There was no way they’d let the magical child of a Seer live for very long. Nick felt numb as she asked, “What about Aaron?”
The tension in the room ratcheted up a notch, and Michelle shivered. “Aaron Spencer will be granted a stay of execution, but will remain in custody to ensure the Seer’s continued cooperation. On the day you marry a suitable candidate, Miss Peyton, Spencer will be released to your husband’s custody. The restrictions on his actions will be considerable, but fair. You may consider it a probation.”
Noah Coleman made a rude noise. “You may consider it a bribe.”
They couldn’t hold Michelle without angering the Alpha, but they could dangle Aaron’s life in front of Nick like a carrot until she married one of their sons as planned. It wasn’t a bribe; it was extortion.
She met Coleman’s angry glare with a level look. “I consider it a blessing. I’m sure my future husband will be just as concerned with the well-being of my sister’s family as I am.” Just in case anyone sees this as a temporary solution.
Hoffman looked smug, probably because he knew Luciano wasn’t ruthless and Ochoa’s sons weren’t likable. He probably thought his own son was the strongest contender for her hand, putting him in line to gain considerable influence and control of Nick’s inheritance.
His easy smile reinforced the impression. “I’m sure whoever is lucky enough to marry you will do everything he can to care for your family. The midwife is on my payroll, but her services will be made available to the Seer at any time. Your father has asked that we allow you to take your sister home and make sure she’s settled before you return in a few days’ time to finalize your marriage choice.”
Nick sought Michelle’s hand and held it tightly. “Thank you all for your time, and for your careful deliberation.”
Michelle’s kept her gaze lowered in what seemed to be a careful show of submission, but Nick could feel the strength in her fingers as her hand squeezed hers. “Thank you. I’m—” The tiniest flare, enough for Nick to taste how much it hurt her sister to force out the words, but her voice was quiet and subdued. “I’m sorry I…betrayed the trust you’ve shown me.”
Nick needed to get her sister out of there before they both broke. “If we can be excused, I’ll get Michelle home.”
Coleman shoved his chair back from the table before anyone else could speak, dripping disdain as he rose. Power punched into Nick, pure, furious magic. “Congratulations on your participation in subverting our laws. I hope you’re proud of yourself.”
Anger swelled in her along with a magic to match his, surprising in its intensity and strength. “I’ve protected my family. I can’t think of anything I’d take more pride in, Mr. Coleman. Not a single thing.”
Looking away would be a sign of defeat. For a few uncomfortable moments, Nick thought he might try to stare her down. Instead he turned abruptly, giving her his back in a clear show of disrespect. “When the three of you stop drooling over Peyton’s money and bloodline, you’re going to regret this day. Or maybe when one of your precious grandchildren ends up like her.” He thrust out his hand, pointing unerringly at Michelle.
Nick trembled with rage, but Enrica’s firm voice cut through the tension. “That’s enough, Noah. Take your leave before you say something you’ll regret.”
Coleman laughed bitterly. “Yes, you would defend him. Do you think he gives a damn about you, Enrica? He shoved you down our throats as a test run for his spoiled little princess, and all you’ve done so far is show us why women can’t be trusted to handle decisions. Thanks to you, there’s another mutt in New Orleans playing footsie with Jacobson’s kid—”
“Enough!” Hoffman surged to his feet and leaned over the table, both fists braced against the polished wood. “Say one more word, and it had better be a challenge. The Conclave voted. You lost. Walk out the door now.”
Coleman muttered another disgusted curse and stormed past Nick, his shoulder bumping hers roughly. He was twice her size, but she managed to hold her ground.
She was glad she had when the door slammed and she chanced a look at her father. He was shaking, his hands clenched so tightly around the back of a chair that he’d already torn the supple leather. “It wouldn’t be worth it,” she whispered. Not if challenging Coleman put their newly struck deal with the rest of the Conclave at risk.
Ochoa spoke up for the first time, his low, easy drawl faintly reminiscent of Alec’s. “We don’t normally interfere with each other’s family affairs but, since we’re the cause of Noah’s fury, we might take responsibility for the likely targets. I can’t be the only one who’s seen and disapproved of the way he treats his wife and daughter.”
“I’ll call his wife myself,” Enrica said woodenly. “We’ll send guards to fetch her and Veronica, if need be.”
Nick’s father released the chair. “His wife is still recovering in Atlanta, but his daughter’s in town.” His gaze found hers, silently questioning.
She nodded. “Ronnie will call me if things get bad.”
“In that case,” he continued, his voice brooking no argument, “I’ll take my daughters home.”
“Of course,” Hoffman said. “Nicole, we look forward to seeing you again in a few days. If you require anything, you need only call.”
It was an invitation any one of them besides Coleman would have issued in a heartbeat, and it reminded her that, for them, the truly important decision had yet to be made. “Thank you. I appreciate that.”
They’d only made it a few steps down the hallway before a wave of nausea hit Nick. Michelle stumbled, her fingers digging painfully into Nick’s arm. “I think I’m going to be sick.”
“Come on.”
The nearest ladies washroom was an executive suite that had only seen secretaries and the occasional visitor before Enrica had taken her place on the Conclave. Nick stared at a flower on the expensive wallpaper while she held Michelle’s head, smoothing her hair back.
Her sister shuddered, and her hand flew out to clutch the edge of the counter. For one terrifying second magic flared and Nick felt the echo, strong enough to raise the hair on the back of her neck.
The light above them flickered, but Nick didn’t take her eyes off that tiny flower.
“It’s okay. You’re okay.” She’d help Michelle, and then she needed to get back to her room at the penthouse. Her numbness would fade soon, and reality would take its place. She’d have to face the fact that she’d traded away her freedom, and it didn’t matter how many times she reminded herself it was for the best.
She’d still break down.
Chapter 18
Basement cage accommodations were the second most useful feature Alec’s house had to offer for newly made wolves. Far superior was the land that had come with his house, just enough acres of wooded solitude to give them a place to run. The property itself was the only evidence Derek had ever seen of the wealth Alec’s family reportedly possessed, though he supposed it was ample evidence all on its own.
Derek parked his truck next to Alec’s and nodded to the takeout bags sitting next to Andrew. “You got that?”
“Sure.” Andrew climbed out, looking jittery after another long day. He almost dropped one of the sodas, but managed to right it. “Got it, yeah.”
They’d run every night since the day they’d decided to make Penny a full partner. Six times, and the soothing predictability of it got them both through the turbulent week. For Andrew it was a chance to burn off energy that seemed to build with alarming speed, but for Derek it was…
Pack.
He might be lonely, but he didn’t have to be alone.
Alec met them on the front porch and held o
ut a hand. “Give me some of that before you drop it.”
Instead of unloading a bag or a few of the drinks, Andrew lifted his chin in a stubborn gesture. “I can handle it.”
A touchy challenge, and a reminder of how prickly Derek’s own pride had been in the months after his change. Alec dealt with Andrew the same way he’d managed Derek two years ago—rolled eyes and a complete refusal to acknowledge the subtle prod. He jerked his head to the side in an invitation that wasn’t quite a command. “We can eat on the porch.”
Dinner was burgers and fries eaten in silence. Derek had given up on conversation by the third evening, when Alec proved as uninterested in small talk as usual and Andrew seemed determined to give him a run for who could deliver the most monosyllabic replies.
It didn’t matter. No one was there to talk.
The sun dropped behind the trees as they finished their meals. Derek gathered up his trash and tucked it into the takeout bag before rising. “Well?”
Alec nodded and took the bag. “You two change. I’ll be along.”
He may as well have released Andrew from invisible bonds. He tugged at his shirt as he jumped the porch steps and landed on the grass. Derek followed him at a more sedate pace.
The change always brought a rush of adrenaline, an amplification of baser instincts. Around Nick it had translated to sex—a hot, joyful lust that licked at his skin and made him anticipate a chase.
Now it was violence. He had to concentrate on the little things, the buttons on his shirt, the buckle on his belt, the mud-encrusted laces on his boots. It would be easy to let the rising power drive him to force a challenge, a fight that would be too vicious without Alec there to intercede.
Andrew ground his teeth. Derek realized the energy roiling inside him was clear and unmistakable when his friend spoke. “I don’t want to fight. I want to run.”
The knot on his left boot was tangled, covered with dirt and a leaf he’d probably picked up at the last construction site he’d visited. The wolf inside him snarled, and the lace snapped under his fingers. “Don’t worry, I’m sure Alec will kick my ass a few times.”
