“Yeah. But there’s only one way to find your mate.” Abbey grinned. “Physical contact.”
“That’s a myth. I’m not going to pop out in tribal tattoos the second I swap spit with a male lion.”
“Wanna bet?” Abbey shook her head. “I’ve seen it happen. A not-so-innocent romp in the woods, and boom. The marks appear and they’re stuck together forever.”
Jillian rolled her eyes. “A mate is supposed to be your soul mate. You don’t figure that out in the backseat of a car.”
“I can’t believe you’re still a romantic.” Abbey shrugged. “Welcome to reality. Jump a guy’s bones, end up mated for life.”
Jillian grabbed the flask and sucked down the remaining liquor. She was trying hard not to flip out, but it was impossible. No one had ever given her a satisfactory explanation for the mating marks. They weren’t caused by a hormonal reaction or through any means that could be explained. They were supposedly pure magic, the mark of the Fates upon their chosen. She’d always believed the mating marks were just a ploy used by the Pride to prevent promiscuity. If they weren’t, she needed to get a mirror and pray.
She had been in a daze after leaving Carrick. It had never occurred to her to check for a mark. The fearless part of her that had fallen hard for Carrick was almost giddy with anticipation. The sensible side was terrified. Unable to wait, she excused herself and raced to the bathroom, ignoring Abbey’s concerned stare. Jillian closed the door behind her, wanting nothing more than to strip off her clothes and examine every inch of her skin. If she knew Quinn, there were precautions she needed to take first.
She pulled a stepstool from beneath the sink and used it to climb on top of the granite counter. Sure enough, a camera had been secured inside the light fixture. She yanked it free and smashed it into the tile. Confident it was destroyed, she checked the ventilation system to be sure there wasn’t another. As a child, this house had been her prison. Thankfully, years of living under surveillance had left her two steps ahead.
Assured she had absolute privacy, she undressed before the row of mirrors. She examined her skin, inch by inch, beginning with the bottom of her feet. Her legs were fine; so were her stomach, her arms, her chest, her neck. As she turned in the mirror, she caught a glimpse of something high on the back of her hip. Suddenly faint, she gripped the side of the sink to keep from falling. Two interlocking half-circles, similar to bent birch branches, were splayed on the side of her hip.
What the hell was she going to do now?
Chapter Four
Gareth was waiting beside the fireplace when Jillian returned to the bedroom. She took one look at his face and stopped. “It can’t be that bad, can it?”
He shook his head and plastered on a fake smile. “It’s nothing. Don’t worry about it. Abbey had to leave, so I told her I’d take you to Quinn.”
She sighed and walked to the bed to grab her sweater. “You could have told me I was the named successor.”
Gareth shrugged. “You wouldn’t have come back.”
“I don’t want to rule the Pride. They’ll never accept me.”
He leaned down and kissed her forehead. “They fear you. You start there, and you build on it.”
“That’s easy for you to say. I’ve spent my life trying to get as far away from the Pride as possible. This place is my hell.”
“Thanks,” Gareth replied. “I thought there were at least a few things here you liked.”
Jillian cursed. As always, she’d put her foot in her mouth. “You know I didn’t mean it that way. I love you and Abbey. But I’m no Pride leader.”
“You’re the strongest.” Gareth motioned her forward. “The others aren’t so bad. A lot of the cats who messed with you are gone. They’ve either moved on, or were killed in a dominance fight. Give the rest of them a chance. They need you.”
Too lost in her thoughts, she didn’t respond. He made a compelling argument, but she wasn’t sure it was enough. Gareth led her down the winding staircase, through the foyer, finally pausing in front of a set of double doors. When she was a little kid, the house had been renovated to expand the formal parlor into a meeting room for the Pride. As they stood in the doorway, the uncertain feeling that had chased her all day erupted into full-fledged panic. She had to pull herself together. The last thing she wanted to do was show Quinn any sign of weakness.
The doors opened and she strode across the walnut floor, her head held high and her heart pounding. Quinn was alone. He stood beside the large bay windows in the far corner. The boogie man come to life. Nearly twice her size and broad as a linebacker, he had played a pivotal role in her nightmares growing up.
Lion shifters were aggressive and hard to control. Their justice system didn’t allow for trials or due process. If the Regulator in charge of your area said you were guilty, you were punished. Quinn held the power of life and death in his huge hands.
“Quinn,” she said as she moved toward him. “It’s good to see you.”
His chocolate eyes widened as he turned. “Don’t lie. You don’t want me here, and I don’t want to be here,” he said as he walked toward her. “You’ll hate me by the time I’m finished.”
“Okay. That doesn’t sound promising.”
“It’s not.” He motioned to the couch at his left. “Sit.”
Gareth stepped back into the hall, closing the door and trapping her inside. She had no choice but to do as Quinn asked. After a few moments, he joined her. They sat silently, staring straight ahead, neither one moving. When several minutes had passed, Jillian’s patience began to wear thin. She shifted to face him. “Is there a purpose to this meeting, or did you just call me here to keep you company?”
Quinn chuckled. He turned to face her, his thick blond hair brushing his shoulders. “You’ve grown claws. I like that. I was afraid your father had ripped them out.”
“Sounds like you put my father in his place.” She glanced at the door. She wouldn’t be surprised if the old man’s ear was pressed against it. “I hear I’m supposed to take over the Pride. It would have been nice if you had discussed it with me first.”
“Damn, you do get right to the point, don’t you?” This time he gave her a genuine smile. “I like you. You’ve got balls. This plan might actually work.”
She tensed. “Would that be the one where I find a mate, take over the Pride, form an alliance with the devil, then live happily ever after?”
“That would be the one.” He cocked his head, his gaze intent. “You got a problem with it?”
She wanted so badly to stand and walk away. “There has to be another solution. I can’t work miracles.”
“But I can.” Quinn leaned against the back of the sofa. “I’ve found you a mate. You can run the Pride with him, the right way.”
Jillian fought through the swell of panic. “What if I already have a mate?”
He drew an exaggerated breath, his anger tangible. “Then I’d have to kill him. There’s only one way this is going to play out. My way.”
“You’ve got to be joking.” Her heart was pounding so hard she knew he could hear it. “That would break every one of our laws.”
“The Conclave makes the laws, and we can break them.” He leaned toward her, his dark eyes filled with intent. “You having a mate is a problem I can easily fix.”
“You bastard,” she hissed. Her beast was going wild, and she was half-tempted to let it free. Blinded with rage, she raised her hand to strike him. He caught her wrist, squeezing until she cried out.
“The Conclave is out of patience. You have two choices. You take the mate I’ve chosen and take your place as Alpha, or we wipe out every half-blood member of your Pride.”
“You can’t wipe us out like vermin. We have rights.”
“Your father forfeited the rights of his Pride when he attacked another Pride leader. Under Conclave law, your Pride is under a death sentence.” Quinn stood. “Believe it or not, I’m trying to help you.”
“Forgive me if I fin
d that hard to believe.” She gripped at the sofa, trying to still her shaking hands. “I’m not an idiot. You’ve got an ulterior motive.”
“Bravo.” He clapped his hands in a quick cadence. “The pretty one is not just powerful; she’s got a brain.”
As if on cue, footsteps sounded outside the door.
He stood and glanced at his watch. “Good. They’re right on time.”
Jillian thought she might be hyperventilating. When the room stopped spinning, she’d be sure. She was marked. Under their law, she was permanently off-limits to anyone but Carrick. But telling Quinn would be a death sentence for them both. There was no way she could reason with him.
She stood as the door slid open, the dominant inside her refusing to maintain a submissive posture. Sweat beaded on her forehead as she fought for control of her beast. She almost had it when a familiar blanket of power swept across her skin. Her beast went wild, and for a moment she thought it might rip free.
“Jillian?” Carrick’s voice penetrated her shock. “What the hell are you doing here?”
Jillian’s nails bit into the palms of her hands. Either the Fates were finally turning in her favor, or they were cruel beyond reason. She prayed it was the former. A smile plastered across her face, she turned to face Carrick. He stood at the far end of the room, Lucas at his side. Together, they were striking. The harsh cut of their shorn blond hair accented the chiseled lines of their faces. Bronzed and muscular almost to a fault, they moved across the room with a lithe grace. A three-piece suit draped Carrick’s body, emphasizing his broad shoulders and tapered waist.
“Carrick,” she acknowledged, hating the telling tremor in her voice. “This is my home. Where else would I be?” She ignored Lucas, turning instead to Quinn. Her heart pounded in her chest, her breathing shortened. “This is going to give my father apoplexy.”
Quinn turned to her. “Your father’s opinion doesn’t matter. He’s dead to the Conclave. His days are numbered.”
Jillian bit back a sharp remark. Her father was one of the most powerful pure-bloods alive. If the Conclave believed they could silence him by making him a rogue, they were deluding themselves.
Carrick ignored Quinn, pushing past him to Jillian. “I looked everywhere for you. Why did you run?”
“I didn’t know you were looking. I told you I’d been called home.”
The sound that came from Carrick’s throat was anything but human and his eyes flashed with anger. “I came after you, and you were gone.” Rage swirled around him, thickening the air. “Did you know? Did you see it before you left?”
Quinn shifted his glance between them. “You know each other?”
Jillian had no idea how to respond. She couldn’t tear her eyes from Carrick. Power darted around him like lightning bugs. He grabbed her by the waist and pulled her against him.
She tried to catch her breath, but the warmth of his body was overwhelming. He was shaking with emotion, causing her beast to riot beneath the surface. It was like being tossed about by a tornado. She pushed at his chest, desperate for distance. “I didn’t know. I thought it was a myth.”
“One of you tell me what the hell is going on.” Quinn shoved them apart. “Now.”
“She’s mine.” Carrick pushed Quinn aside. “She wears my mark.”
Lucas grabbed Carrick’s arm. “Do you know who she is? That’s Reginald’s daughter.”
Carrick froze, and Jillian’s heart broke. His reaction brought her dream world splintering down around her. This was why she had left.
Quinn walked to the window, looking out onto the field. “Are you going to create a complication?”
Carrick stepped forward. “She wears my mark. She belongs with me. It’s Pride law.”
Quinn sighed. “The Conclave believes the Pride laws are antiquated and no longer apply.”
“The Pride laws define us.” Carrick stalked forward. “No one can deny me my claim, even the Conclave.”
“They can, and they will,” Quinn said. “The Conclave has plans for Jillian.” He turned to face Carrick. “And those plans don’t include you. There’s too much at stake to let you interfere.”
“How dare you—” Carrick lunged at Quinn, but Lucas intervened, holding him back.
Quinn’s words rang with truth. A truth Jillian had figured out years ago. She may be mated to Carrick, but she wouldn’t get her happy ending. They were all pawns in the Conclave’s elaborate chess game.
“So, you’ll just ignore the Pride laws. I never pegged you for a hypocrite,” Carrick said.
“I’m not.” Quinn sighed. “I’m trying to stop the hypocrisy. There has been infighting in the Conclave since the majority voted to give the half-bloods rights. The faction fighting against rights for the half-bloods sees this feud of yours as a prime example of why it’s impossible to peacefully co-exist. They’re using it to turn the tide in their favor. My handler sent me here to change that.” He blew out a long breath. “We’re going to combine the Prides and show those bastards that half-bloods can live inside the confines of a civilized Pride, even among pure-bloods who despise them.”
Jillian sank onto the sofa. Quinn had lost his mind. There was no way in hell the Prides could combine. It would be unadulterated chaos. Especially now, after Anthony’s murder. They’d kill each other.
Lucas shook his head. “It’ll never work.”
Quinn narrowed his eyes. “Those are my orders. It’s not up for discussion.” He turned to Jillian. “I told you your options. It’s your choice.”
“Some choice.” She glanced at Carrick, who was pacing the length of the room. “Either I do what you want or you kill me and half my Pride. Even if I do agree, the Pride won’t accept me as Alpha. The dominants will be challenging me before you build my throne.”
“No, they won’t,” Quinn replied. “You tore your father’s first enforcer into pieces. Lions have a long memory. And you’ll have Lucas at your side. He’s the golden boy of the Pride.”
“No. Damn it.” Carrick lunged at Quinn, but Lucas held him back. “She’s my mate. You can’t give her to Lucas.”
Quinn shook his head. “It’s done. You know why it can’t be you.”
Carrick’s eyes narrowed. “How do you—”
“No one keeps secrets from the Conclave. Not even Anthony. I need to talk to Lucas and Jillian in private. You’re dismissed.”
“Damn you, Quinn. Don’t push me.” Carrick pulled free of Lucas’s grasp. “You’re not going to like what happens.”
Quinn stalked toward Carrick. “We’ve known each other a long time, Carrick. But if you stand in my way, I will kill you. This could turn the tide, and I’m not going to let you ruin it.”
“Why do you care so much about the Conclave? You’ve said it yourself. They’re power hungry, out of control.” Carrick grabbed Quinn’s arm. “These are our lives you’re playing with. Mine and Jillian’s, Quinn. What the hell’s the matter with you?”
“Say another word and I’ll label you an usurper.” Quinn ripped his arm from Carrick’s grasp. “And you know what happens to traitors.”
Carrick growled, but he stepped back. “This isn’t over.” He stormed out of the room, the door slamming behind him.
Stunned and nauseous, Jillian tried to wrap her brain around what had happened. She had to give up Carrick for Lucas? The thought of Lucas touching her, of touching him after being with Carrick, made her physically ill. But her beast was strangely silent. Almost as if she had recognized the futility of the situation and given up.
Lucas stepped forward, and, for the first time, Jillian turned her attention to him. Although she’d only seen him in photographs, he was as handsome in person, every inch his father’s son. But, from what she’d heard, Lucas wasn’t his father. Anthony had been a spoiled, self-righteous bigot. Rumor had it a good man lay beneath Lucas’s beautiful exterior.
“The Conclave can go to hell.” Lucas glared at Quinn. “He’s my brother. I won’t steal his mate.”
&
nbsp; “Fine,” Quinn growled. “Then I’ll have the three of you executed along with the half-bloods, and start over. Your Prides are so obsessed with fighting one another you’ve gotten sloppy. Regulators have been called out over twenty times to clean up your messes and protect you from human discovery. The Conclave is done playing games. This ends now.”
Jillian closed her eyes and counted to ten. This had to be a nightmare. It couldn’t be happening.
“You’re going underground with the others for the Claiming,” Quinn continued. At the end of the three days, you’ll both wear the same mark. Tattoo them on. I want those marks permanent. Don’t let anyone look too closely and no one will know they’re not real. The two of you pretending to be true mates is the best way to combine the Prides. The others will see it as an act of the Fates. It will give them a reason to accept it. Come out without them and you know the consequences.”
Jillian stood. “To get those marks, we’d have to be intimate. The others will never believe it. They know we’re enemies.”
“Make them believe it. The dominants will single you out from the beginning. They’ll see you as an opportunity to take the throne. Use their aggression to your advantage,” Quinn said. “Kick their asses, let them see how strong you are before you choose Lucas. Everyone likes an unlikely love story. But don’t kill any of the other dominants. We need them.”
“Not your call,” she reminded Quinn. “Once we’re down there, there is no law. Anything goes.” Not that she wanted to kill, but establishing dominance was a requirement to leadership in the Pride. If Quinn had called in all the dominants in the area, there were going to be some loose cannons. She would exercise discretion, but there were boundaries.
“Since there are no acting Alphas, I’m running the Claiming.” Quinn smiled. “Laws or no laws, I’ll be there to keep you in line.” Lucas started to speak, but Quinn held up a hand, cutting him off. “I’ll be lenient,” he continued, turning to Jillian. “But if I see you alone with Carrick, there will be consequences.” He turned on his heel and walked out of the room, leaving them alone.
Dance with the Devil Page 5
