by Moira Rogers
“Yes.”
She hesitated. “He loves you. If that helps.”
“I know.” Nick could barely choke out the words around the sobs that overtook her. She’d rather he hated her for what she’d put him through, for not keeping her distance in the first place. Knowing that he loved her—even though that love was impossible—didn’t help at all.
Chapter Seventeen
“I think we should make Penny full partner.”
Andrew looked up from the clinic blueprints he was studying. “You do?”
Derek turned his attention back to the wall. Whatever spells ran through the wiring made his skin prickle every time he touched it, but at least the low-level discomfort distracted him from his misery. That had been the general idea of doing pro bono work for Franklin’s clinic in the first place—tax their bodies so they didn’t have to sit around and think so damn hard.
Unfortunately, it wasn’t working. Not for him, anyway. Derek scraped the extra spackle into the plastic container in his hand and finished his pitch. “Yeah. I sucked at the office stuff to begin with, and you’re not going to feel like doing it for a while. We can’t do it on our own anymore.”
Andrew leaned on the worktable they’d set up in the middle of the room. “Are you thinking of leaving?”
“No. Absolutely not.” Because there’s nowhere to go.
“Okay.” Andrew spoke slowly, as if choosing his words carefully. “Then I think Penny would appreciate it. She works hard. She’s good, and she’s earned it.”
Derek slapped another gob of spackle on the wall and smoothed it over the joint, his movements automatic. “I tried too hard after the attack. Tried to go back to my normal fucking human life like nothing had changed. It’s starting to seem like that was a really dumb idea.”
Andrew came over and picked up another small bucket. He hissed when he touched the wall, a soft growl issuing from his throat. Then he laughed a little. “No. No, we’re not human anymore.”
There it was, the sum of a miserable night’s realization. We’re not human anymore. How much of the past two years’ misery could he have avoided if he’d stopped fighting his instincts? If he’d acknowledged that easygoing Derek was gone and let himself be…
Derek laughed. “How pathetic am I? Over thirty fucking years old, and I don’t have a goddamn clue who I am. At least you’re not going to waste two years pretending nothing’s changed.”
Andrew kept his gaze on the wall in front of them. “From the way Alec talks, I don’t have that option. I could hurt someone if I don’t face things.” His knuckles turned white, and the solid plastic handle of the spackling knife creaked.
Magic flared. This time, it was the power in Andrew instead of the wards in the walls. Derek recognized it easily, the twitchy, tense prickle of a wolf who wanted to break free. “Has Alec taken you running yet?”
“Every day.”
That made the primal energy roiling inside his friend even more alarming. “You going again tonight?”
“I’m picking up dinner when I’m done here and heading over.” He finally met Derek’s eyes. “You want to come with me?”
It would have been easy to force a challenge right then, and part of him wanted to. Part of him wanted to shed his human form and vent his rage and loss in a fight that would wear him out and establish which of them was the strongest.
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 sof
t 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?”
“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 ch
anced 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.
