by Moira Rogers
“They just keep hovering. And…trying to hug me.” A tiny, almost hysterical-sounding giggle escaped her. “My God, Nicky. They’re trying to hug me.”
“Things are different here.” As explanations went, it was grossly inadequate. “Has Mama Holt offered to bake for you yet?”
Michelle wrinkled her nose. “She wants to teach us how to bake. Apparently it’s a serious crisis that we can’t make fudge. Mackenzie’s under strict orders to bring back a candy thermometer.”
Nick stifled a laugh. “This’ll be the most well-stocked safe house Alec has by the time you guys get to leave.”
The words brought the worry back to Michelle’s eyes. “Have you talked to anyone yet? Do you know what’s going on?”
Nick had to look away to answer. “Enrica sent Luciano to talk to me.”
“Oh.” Michelle’s voice sounded carefully neutral. “I always got the feeling he isn’t any more interested in pack politics than you are.”
“He isn’t, but he does what she tells him. Up to a point, anyway.”
“Enrica hasn’t been very subtle over the years. Everyone knows she wants Luciano to marry you.” Michelle’s gaze flickered to the door. “Luciano met Derek?”
“Mmm. It went well.” The potential for bloodshed was something Nick didn’t want to consider. “Luke’s going to help us stall Enrica and the Conclave for a few days. It’ll give us a chance to make plans.”
Michelle tightened her fingers around the bedspread. “What did Luciano say about Aaron? There must have been terms. There are always terms.”
Nick’s first instinct was to lie, but she quelled it. Her sister had been lied to enough. Besides, she had to already know. “The Conclave wants to execute him, Michelle.”
The mirror on the other side of the room shattered. Glass tinkled to the hardwood floor, the soft sound dwarfed by the low, inhuman snarl that rose in her sister’s throat.
Michelle’s normally brown eyes had bled to amber. Power gathered in the room, and Nick felt an echo of that magic inside of her, fighting to break free.
“I’ll kill them all,” Michelle whispered. “If they touch him, I will kill them all.”
“So will I.” Nick gripped Michelle’s hand and tried to center her. It had been so easy when they were younger, almost effortless, but they’d spent too much time apart. “If anyone comes after either of you, we’ll stop them. I swear.”
Magic flared again, and Michelle closed her eyes and took a deep breath. “No one heard. I…think I managed to shield the room before I lost it. I must have. Aaron would be in here already if I hadn’t.”
If they can find the door. Desperate to ease the fear permeating the room, Nick pressed Michelle’s hand to her heart. “Micky, they’re not going to get to you here. I’ll stop them. You have to believe that, or you’ll make yourself sick.” Or crazy.
“I’m not worried about me, Nick. I’m worried about him.”
She thought of Derek and nodded. “I meant both of you, sweetie. All of you.”
Michelle’s fingers trembled against her chest. “All right. Tell me what you’re going—what we’re going to do.”
“Give them something they want more than you and Aaron and your baby.”
“You are not going to marry Luciano Maglieri!”
“No,” Nick shot back, aghast. “Neither of us wants that, for Christ’s sake. I’m going to give up my succession. Let the rest of them fight it out. I never wanted to be Alpha anyway.”
Michelle hesitated. “That could work. For a while. But they won’t let me go, and they won’t just pardon Aaron.”
“It’ll buy us time to figure out what to do.”
“All right.” Michelle dropped her hands to her lap. “Will you stay for a bit? I’m so tired, but every time I start to fall asleep, the power slips. Maybe if you’re here to balance it…”
“Wild horses couldn’t drag me away, sweetie.” To illustrate her point, Nick kicked off her shoes and stretched out on the bed.
Michelle relaxed on the pillows, her eyes fixed on the ceiling and one hand resting on her stomach. “So much chaos because of a baby.”
Nick ignored the stab of pain that stole her breath and scooted closer to Michelle. “So much chaos because of some stupid, archaic customs.”
“Stupid, archaic superstitions. You know, I almost believed them. I almost thought—”
“I know.” What wouldn’t Michelle give to escape the magic she’d lived with since birth? It had denied her any sort of normal life, even the kind Nick herself had managed. “I’m sorry.”
Michelle’s jaw tightened. “Well, I’m not. It’s too late for anyone to accept me, and they’ll never accept any children I have. So I damn well need this power to protect them. If that makes me a freak, so be it.”
“You’re not a freak.” It should have scared her to hear a Seer—any Seer—talking so brazenly about letting the magic inside her run free, unchecked. But Michelle had never been normal in that respect, and all Nick felt was pride. “I’ll help you.”
Her sister’s hand wrapped around hers, the grip so tight her nails dug against her palm. “I don’t know if it would work, but do you think Jackson knows any spells that might help me sleep?”
He did, but she didn’t know if he dared to use them on a pregnant Seer whose magic had gone haywire. “I can ask.”
Michelle licked her lips in a nervous gesture Nick hadn’t seen in a decade. “It’s okay if he doesn’t want to. But…I thought maybe with you here…”
“I’ll check. If he can’t, maybe Mrs. Holt knows something that will help you.”
“Thank you.” Her eyes drifted shut. “Could you ask Aaron to come in for a second? He’ll get snarly at everyone if I don’t let him check on me. He’s so worried.”
Maybe his presence would soothe her. If Aaron could help Michelle sleep, Nick would have time to talk to Jackson and to call Alec. Time to figure out what the hell they were all going to do. So she patted her sister’s leg and climbed off the bed. “He’ll be glad to get back in here, I bet.”
Nick hurried out and closed the door behind her. The front room was empty, and she leaned against the back of the threadbare sofa and covered her face with her hands.
The vague, roiling nausea in her belly sharpened, and she bolted for the nearest door. It turned out to be a small bathroom, and she barely made it to the toilet before her stomach emptied. Afterward, she knelt on the curling linoleum, tears seeping out between tightly shut lids.
I just have to help Michelle through this, she thought desperately. Whatever it takes.
Jackson put the last bag on the porch and leaned against a support post to stretch his leg. “Getting shot sucks. My leg’s killing me.”
“That’s what happens when you run off on your own to play hero,” Derek remarked, then winced when he heard his own challenging tone. “Sorry. I’m still…you know.”
The wizard just shrugged. “I get it. I did what I felt I had to. Maybe it saved lives, and maybe it didn’t. Either way, I’d do it again.”
Derek wasn’t sure if Jackson had missed the point or if he really didn’t understand. “No offense, Jackson, but it wasn’t your ass I was worried about. The woman I’m a little in love with ran off to storm a crazy magician’s lair and I didn’t know until my cousin called me. That chafes.”
“Yeah.” He lowered himself awkwardly to sit on the steps. “That part’s still my fault too, huh?”
Derek moved aside as he heard Aaron’s footsteps behind him. “No, it’s just—”
“Lay off him, Jackson.” Aaron leaned against the other railing and shot Derek a sympathetic look. “He can’t help it. You of all people should know that.”
“I’ve spent enough time keeping Mackenzie from freaking out when I get a hangnail,” Jackson agreed readily. “I’m not giving him a hard time.”
It was a possibility that hadn’t occurred to him—and made him feel the tiniest bit sexist. Nick certainly didn’t hesitate to ge
t insanely protective over her nearest and dearest. Which now includes me.
His thoughts must have shown on his face, because Aaron nodded. “It’s not about who’s big and burly,” the man said. “Dominance is about more than one kind of strength. Physical strength’s the least of it. Jackson’s little kitten’s got some mean teeth.”
Jackson grinned. “I think she might be worse than Nicky, actually.”
“Whereas I have a hard time not jumping when Nick tells me to.” Aaron rolled his eyes skyward. “Don’t think she didn’t take advantage of that when the two of them were teenage girls with a new, young bodyguard to torture.”
Derek felt the corner of his mouth twitch up. “I thought everyone jumped when Nick told them to.”
“You don’t,” Jackson pointed out lazily, “or you’d already be stashed someplace ’til all this was over. Tell me she didn’t try it. And Alec sure the hell doesn’t hop to when she says so.”
“Yeah, I guess he doesn’t.” Alec was the one who could help her. He understood the rules of the vast political game they were tangled up in. He knew what to do, how to help. He was useful. Even now the man was off trailing Luke, doing some sort of private-investigator surveillance to ensure everyone’s safety.
So far I’ve fucked her on her kitchen floor—while forgetting to use a condom—and offered to fix the loveseat I broke to begin with.
In the grand scheme of things, he seemed to be making Nick’s life worse.
He looked up and found Jackson watching him with a serious expression. “She needs someone like you, Derek. Somebody she doesn’t have to fight all the time. Someone who can share responsibility with her instead of always trying to take it all.”
It took effort not to scowl. “Am I that transparent, or are you two fucking psychic?”
“Neither.” Aaron’s smile looked tired. “You’re just not as special as you think. For anyone who’s a shapeshifter or anyone who lives with them…” He nodded to Jackson. “Dealing with the power games is a fact of life.”
“Hell, yeah, it is,” Jackson said immediately as he shifted position with a wince. “But you two have instincts about each other, and I don’t know how that goes.” He paused. “But I do know Nicky.”
Derek braced himself. “And?”
“And you’re what she wants.” The sandy-haired man stretched his legs out in front of him. “She’s crazy about you. Has been forever.”
Which would have been enough a few days ago. Now… He looked from Jackson to Aaron. “You know how this political shit works. What’s going to happen to her if she tries to get involved with someone like me? Someone who wasn’t born like you?”
He realized his mistake when Aaron stiffened. “You mean, are you going to be on the run next when the Conclave decides you’re not good enough?”
“No. No, I just mean—”
“I don’t care what you mean.” Aaron’s tone was implacable. “Either she’s worth putting up with anything they throw at you, or she’s not. If she’s not, walk the fuck away. Now.”
“Aaron, what was all that bullshit you were handing me about going easy on him?” Jackson rose and took a wobbly step away from the porch. “My guess is Derek’s a little more concerned about making Nick’s life hell, not his own. Am I wrong?”
“No, you pretty much nailed it.” Derek glanced at Aaron. “I’ve been told enough times I’m nothing but a mutt.”
Aaron unbent enough to nod. “Some people might view it that way. But a lot of them might be glad if Nick hooked up with a guy like you. It’d make her ineligible to take over. Ugly, but true.”
A cold knot settled in the pit of Derek’s stomach. “Guess that answers that question.”
Jackson swore under his breath, but the word lacked heat. “I’m sure Nicky’s already told you she doesn’t care. If she wanted to take over, she wouldn’t be tending bar in Louisiana.”
“Right.” He tried to sound convincing, but the affirmation seemed hollow to his own ears. Nick’s birthright involved the sort of power and prestige he could barely wrap his head around. He was chatting with a man who had once served as her bodyguard, proof enough of that fact.
Then Jackson wrinkled his nose and laughed. “You’re a crappy liar, Gabriel. I don’t blame you for not knowing which way’s up. Yet. You’d better figure it out quick, though, because Nicky needs you.”
Derek managed a wan smile. “I’ll figure it out, if you call Kat for me. She’s going to rebel just to spite me if I tell her to lay low, but she listens to you.”
“So you call Andrew and get him to run interference. Kat’s too smart to cut off her nose to spite her face. If it means hanging out with Andrew, she’ll suck it up and deal.”
He was marginally sure Jackson wouldn’t find the idea as entertaining if he’d watched Kat grow up. “Sorry, I’m still trying to recover from the fact that Andrew told me Kat tried to climb into his pants last night. The mental image is a bit much.”
Jackson chortled and headed for the porch steps. “Sucks to be you.”
That pretty much summed up the whole fucking day. “At least no one’s shot me yet, smartass.”
“Not yet,” he grunted as he clomped up the steps. “But break my best friend’s heart, and I might remedy that myself.”
“I might let you.” It was the cocky response expected of him and seemed better than admitting the truth.
If anyone’s coming out of this with a broken heart, it’s me.
Chapter Seven
Nick reread the same paragraph for the fifth time and tossed her paperback on the coffee table with a groan. “I can’t concentrate, and I’m terrible company. I should just go to work.”
“And leave me all alone?” Derek peered at her over the screen of his laptop. “I’m almost done answering email.”
“I’m losing my mind.” She needed to be doing something useful. She needed to be at the safe house with Michelle.
But Jackson and Alec had warned them that the last thing they should do was traipse back and forth constantly, potentially leading people from the city to the remote location where Michelle and Aaron were staying.
“It’s for the best, Nicky,” Jackson had told her. “Just for a few days.”
A few days. It had been less than one, and she was already going crazy.
Nick sat up on the sofa and took a deep breath, then released it in one long, slow exhalation. “How are you at poker? I’ve seen you play at the bar a few times, but I don’t know if you’re any good.”
“Not bad.” His gaze dropped to his computer again as he typed something. “I quit playing with Kat though. Between the statistical analysis and the fact that you can’t bluff her, it’s completely pointless.”
“You should have known better than that anyway.” She studied Derek’s bent head and relished the tingle of attraction that bloomed inside her. “Have you noticed it’s not so bad anymore? The attraction?” It came out wrong, so she tried again. “It’s not so primal, I mean. Mindless.”
“Oh, I don’t know about that.” But his grin was teasing. “The mindless part seems to come and go, but it hasn’t been uncontrollable at least.”
She wished she could give him a lighthearted reassurance, but she couldn’t hide her solemnity. “Because we stopped fighting it. We made our claims on each other.”
“Ah.” After a few more clacking keystrokes, he closed his laptop and set it aside. “As enjoyable as frantic sex on the kitchen floor was, I’m glad.”
“Me too.” She’d meant to tell him it was all right for those claims to be short term, that it wouldn’t hurt her feelings if they didn’t last. The words wouldn’t come. “I’m glad too.”
He reached out and smoothed a finger down her forehead and along the bridge of her nose. “You’re frowning and getting cute little wrinkles.”
It would have been easy to relax into his touch and encourage more. To forget words. “Do you know me, Derek? Who I really am, not what most people see?”
�
��Hell, Nicky. I’ve spent so much of the last two years trying not to look at you that I don’t even know what most people see.” His finger followed the same path again. “Alec says the mating urge is like a blind date with better sex. You have to do the getting-to-know-you part after you remember where you left your clothes.”
“Alec is a little bit of a pig, but he’s not wrong.”
“So?” He tapped her in the middle of the forehead. “Poker. Strip poker. Strip poker with revealing personal questions?”
Not quite what she’d had in mind, but appealing all the same. “You’re not wearing enough layers to make that fair, baby.”
“I’m not planning on losing.”
“That’s what they all say.”
Five minutes and a winning hand later, Nick slapped her hand on the coffee table. “Give me a shoe and tell me what you wanted to be when you grew up.”
He leaned down and tugged at the laces on his left boot. “I wanted to own a restaurant. Be one of those crotchety but brilliant chefs.”
“Brilliant, yes. Eccentric, maybe.” She grinned at him. “But you’re not crotchety.”
“Oh, I could have been.” He got the boot off and dropped it to the floor. “However, when I was sixteen I had teenage rebellion and decided it was unmanly to follow in my mother’s footsteps.”
“Hence the hard hat and construction boots. I see.”
His eyes twinkled. “It’s very manly.”
“Indeed.” She pushed the cards across the table so he could deal the next hand. “I wanted to be a princess, until I realized that I sort of already was. Then I wanted to be anything else in the world.”
“Like a bar owner in New Orleans?” He shuffled with quick, efficient movements, his gaze on her face instead of the cards. “How’d you end up with the bar, anyway? I mean, you bought it from Mahalia, obviously, but what made you do it?”
Nick shrugged. “May was looking to retire, and it seemed like a solid investment.” More than that, she’d been fascinated by the mix of patrons—witches and wizards, psychics and shifters. Everyone mingling, no one making judgments. “I liked how everyone could go there. It didn’t matter who they were. I hadn’t seen a lot of that before I came here.”
