by Amy Cissell
I grunted, not wanting to agree that she was in any way justified in her attitudes and actions, but unable to disagree with Raj’s assessment. “When did you get to be so wise?”
“Fourteen thirty-seven. It was March fifth at approximately ten thirty in the morning. I threw a celebratory dinner party that evening.”
I rolled my eyes. “Smart ass.”
“Did you figure out how to raise your temperature without being goaded into anger?”
“No. I feel like it’s almost there, but I can’t quite grasp it.”
“Did you try giving your hypothalamus false sensory input?”
I laughed. “I have not tried that. I’m not entirely sure what the hypothalamus is, other than a…thing…that regulates body temperature. I’ve heard of it, but couldn’t tell you anything else, like its location, and what other kinds of things it does. I don’t want to be mucking about with my internal organs or glands or whatever it is unless I’m confident I know what I’m doing.”
“That sounds so sensible.”
“I’m a very sensible person,” I said. “And you know it must be true if I said it.”
“All I know at this point is that you believe it to be true. That doesn’t make it so.”
His massage had stopped, but he was still sitting behind me. I leaned back into him, but he moved before I could settle in. I turned my head to see what was going on and he wrapped a small wool blanket around my shoulders before pulling me back. “Just some extra protection against my cold. I can’t regulate my body temperature, either, and I don’t want to chill you any further.”
I relaxed into Raj, and he wrapped his arms around me. It felt good to be held but weird that it wasn’t Isaac. I knew that Isaac had some unreasonable—well, okay, maybe slightly reasonable—jealousy issues with Raj, but I also knew that he wouldn’t mind me taking comfort where it was offered. Hell, he’d practically gift-wrapped me and presented me to Raj. My irritation with that heavy-handed patriarchal move helped warm me a little more.
“I can give you more than comfort,” Raj said.
“I know. But I’m not ready for more than this.”
“It is inevitable.”
“Maybe. But it isn’t immediate.”
Raj turned my head and kissed me lightly on the lips. At that moment, I wanted more. I reached up, grabbed his head, and kissed him back. All my heartache, all my frustrations, all my anger—I poured it into that kiss. At some point, I’d twisted my body around and ended up straddling his lap, the wool blanket bunched up awkwardly between us.
I felt warmth pool between my legs and vaguely thought this was a much nicer way to warm up than fighting with Emma.
“Think of the devil,” Raj murmured against my lips before pulling slightly back and breaking contact. I had the barest moment to wonder what he meant when the door was flung open violently.
I slumped against Raj’s chest then turned myself back around to meet Emma’s accusing, yet oddly triumphant gaze.
Chapter Three
I DECIDED TO use my new Raj-inspired wisdom to be kind and give her the benefit of the doubt. “Is everything okay?” I asked, trying for a mild tone. “You seem upset.”
She sputtered a bit before managed to get the words out. “You…and him…I caught you!”
I wrapped the blanket around myself but did not move out of Raj’s lap. I didn’t want to give the impression that I felt ashamed or guilty. I could lie with my actions if not my words.
“I’m sorry,” Raj said. “I don’t want you to feel either of those things.”
I leaned back into him. “We’ll talk later.” To Emma, I said, “If by ‘I caught you,’ you mean you burst into my room without knocking and saw me kissing Raj, then yes, I guess you did.”
She stared at me, nonplussed by my reaction. “If we ever rescue Isaac, he’ll hear of this.”
I let my voice harden. “When I rescue Isaac, there will certainly be no reason to keep any information from him. He encouraged me to seek my comfort with Raj, in fact. He knew about the heat that burned between us.”
“I don’t believe you,” she spat, and then apparently remembered that I couldn’t lie. “But even if he did say that surely he didn’t mean this soon.”
“Well, since he’s not here to ask, having sacrificed himself to save your ass, I guess we won’t know if he had a specific waiting period in mind before I could kiss anyone else.”
Florence walked into the room, carry a couple grocery bags. “I traded some liquor for fresh meat and apples,” she said.
I gasped. “You did what?”
She looked at me, the corners of her mouth tilted up in an almost-grin. “It was tequila.”
“Oh, that’s okay then. Meat, huh? Is it rat?”
Emma made a gagging sound, which I thought was interesting since as a wolf, she’d probably hunted and killed her share of rodents.
“Pork chops.”
“Hmmm, probably a fair trade for tequila. If you’d traded any of my gin, I would’ve expected a ribeye at the very least.”
“One problem remains,” Florence said. “How are we going to cook these?”
“Pan fried on the camp stove? Grilled pork chops and apples on the little grill?”
“Both decent ideas,” Florence said.
I sighed, “Isaac and Finn were both great cooks. I ate so many gourmet meals, even while camping, in the first few weeks of this journey. Too bad Finn turned out to be an asshat and Isaac decided to get all noble and shit.” I turned and looked at Emma. “Do you cook?”
She drew herself up to her full height—which was a good six inches taller than mine—and said, “Of course I cook. What kind of woman doesn’t?”
“Plenty,” I said. “I never needed to. I either had a man to cook for me or restaurants.”
She looked shocked. Holy crap, poor chick had missed women’s lib. I wondered if I should tell her about birth control and abortions and the failure of the equal pay amendment now, or save that for when I let her know that she could get her own credit card. Not that that mattered anymore. No credit cards needed.
“You know, the Alpha of the Great Plains Pack is a woman,” I said. “Women can do all sorts of things.”
“There’s a female Alpha?” she looked like she was going to faint. “Who is it?”
“Rebecca Nelson. I think she used to be in your pack?”
Emma wrinkled her nose in disgust. “Oh, her. She was so easy. She probably slept her way to the top and then poisoned her husband.”
I tilted my head quizzically, and then I remembered something. “Was Rebecca Isaac’s girlfriend right before he started dating you?”
“Yes, he dated her, if that’s what you want to call it, before me.”
“Honey, calling a woman a slut just because you don’t like what—or who—she’s done, is not okay. You need to cool it with the slut-shaming thing you’ve got going on. As long as everyone involved is a consenting adult and no promises are being broken, it’s none of your business who Isaac dated—or slept with—before or after you. And how did that dating thing work out for you guys in the early sixties, anyway? Did people talk?”
Emma stared at me, and I realized that it was going to take more than a couple days to get her on the feminist train with me.
“I don’t understand what you mean by people talking,” she said.
“I just wondered if it was difficult for you and Isaac to have a relationship then because of the interracial thing.”
“Oh,” she seemed surprised by the question. “There were certainly places we weren’t welcome together that I could’ve gone alone, or with a white man. The pack mostly didn’t care, and that’s where we spent most of our time. If we’d been human, it might have been harder. My father hated that I was dating a black man and refused to speak to me, but my mother rather liked Isaac.” Her face crumpled suddenly. “Oh my god, they must be dead. And they died thinking I was murdered!”
“Did they know you were a were
wolf?”
She shook her head, tears slowly streaming down her face.
“So, you would’ve had to fake your death eventually, right?”
She nodded.
“I know it wasn’t the time or the place of your choosing, so you feel like you lack closure, but for them, it played out the way it would’ve anyway. It’s hard to lose parents, no matter what the circumstances.”
“What would you know about it? Aren’t your parents sitting on thrones ruling the Fae?”
“Maybe my biological parents, but I didn’t know I was adopted until June. The parents who raised me, the ones who loved me and took care of me and did everything they could to make sure I was happy and healthy—they died in a car accident when I was twenty-two. It was years before I could even say their names without choking up. Their deaths devastated me.”
“Oh. I’m sorry.”
I smiled, hoping the sadness wasn’t shining through, and said, “Never apologize to a Fae. And never say thank you, either. It creates a debt, and the more unscrupulous of us won’t hesitate to take advantage of that, whether or not you know the rules.”
“You act nice, and then you’re cold again. I don’t understand you.”
I didn’t understand me, either, so I was no help. She was hurt and grieving, and I didn’t know how to comfort her—or even if I could.
Florence finished setting up the tiny grill just outside the room and getting it lit. She came back in and put a comforting arm around Emma. “We’ve all experienced loss, but it hurts most when it’s fresh. Cry it out if you will—either here or in your room—and you’ll feel a bit better when you’re done.”
Emma sniffled and allowed Florence to lead her to the other room.
“That was remarkably sensitive of you,” Raj said. Now that I didn’t have to lie about my regret with my actions, I moved away from him and wrapped the blanket tightly around myself.
“I am trying for a kinder, gentler Eleanor Morgan. Also, you were right about the things you said earlier. The things about Emma,” I added hastily before he got any ideas.
“Oh, I always have ideas,” he said. “But I also know when to take a step back. I’m sorry you feel bad about what happened.”
“Me, too,” I said. “I probably shouldn’t have followed up my ‘I’m not ready’ statement with jumping into your arms like that. It’s just, for a moment, all I could think about was finding out if it would be as bone-searingly awesome to kiss you as my brain has been trying to convince me since we met in Rebecca’s backyard.”
Raj brushed my cheek with his knuckles, and I shivered. “Was it?”
“You know what I’m thinking, do you have to ask?”
“Yes.”
“It was,” I admitted.
“I told you the second time we met we were inevitable.”
“What do I do, Raj? With this, with us? What do I do after I rescue Isaac?”
“We have some time, do we not, to figure that out? Do you need an action plan before we go any further?”
“Ellie always needs an action plan,” a voice said from the open doorway. “She once wanted to write a handbook for our sex life.” I was still trying to untangle myself from the blankets and draw my sword by the time Raj was in the doorway with his sword at Finn’s throat.
“Explain your presence here,” he said, “before I cut your throat.”
“As far as threats go, that has a lot to be desired. Why on earth would I explain myself if it’s just going to hasten an inevitable throat cutting?”
“How about you explain your presence here or get your throat cut?” I noticed with some satisfaction that one ear was still not very pointy and that two fingers were shortened by a knuckle—a product of the last time he’d fucked with me up close. “Are you here to get a little off the top of your other ear?”
A dull flush rose from his throat, and he fingered his docked ear. I used his distraction to put the magical air bindings in place around him that would hold him still until I released him. Or at least I tried. He laughed when he saw my expression as my magic failed.
“I’m protected now, Ellie,” he said. “Your magic won’t work on me.”
“Protected by whom?” I asked. Finn smirked.
“It doesn’t matter if he’s protected against Fae magic. Iron still works,” Raj said, and he cut a thin line across Finn’s neck; deep enough to draw blood, but too shallow to do any lasting damage.
Finn gasped and slapped his hand to his throat. “Fuck!” he grated.
“How about you just explain why you’re here, and then we can talk about removing the link you’ve formed with Emma’s mind,” I said.
“You’re quick,” Finn said, his hand still on his throat. “That surprises me. I always thought you were pretty but dim. I’m glad you’ve been exercising more than your libido. Although I’m disappointed that you seek comfort with the dead. You have terrible taste in men.”
I stared at him, nose wrinkled up in confused amusement. A quick wit was not among his gifts. “I slept with you, Finn.”
He flushed again.
“What do you want?” I demanded.
“Just came to check on you. See if you needed a shoulder to cry on, now that your wolf is dead.”
My face must have betrayed something because Finn laughed. “Oh, didn’t you know? Michelle got carried away with her welcome party and used a bit too much silver. Last time I saw him, he was gasping his last breath.”
“Should I kill him?” Raj asked.
“No,” Florence said. “We still need him.” She’d come up behind Finn, surprising everyone including Finn. Before he had a chance to recover, she stabbed him through the midsection with her sword. I hadn’t seen her use it since we’d sparred at her house in Rapid City.
Finn looked down at the sword blade protruding from his abdomen. “I thought you weren’t going to kill me?”
“You’re not dead. As long as I pull this out soon, you’ll survive.”
Sometimes Florence frightened me.
“Why are you here, other than to bring the news of Eleanor’s mate’s death?” I felt that shock rock through my body again and was a little light headed.
Finn looked like he was sharing in the light-headedness if nothing else.
“Calm yourself, Eleanor,” Raj said. “You are connected. You would’ve felt his death.”
“Calm myself? He can’t lie! And our connection has been fading.”
“Just wait. Breathe.”
“Do you work for the Dark Queen?” I asked.
He smirked. “I work for myself.”
“You may think you’re a free agent, Finnegan Byrne,” Florence said, “But someone finances your idiocy. Is it the Dark Queen?”
“She’s not the one who hands me gold.”
“Like anyone believes she’d personally pay you anyway. She probably has an AP person. Are you on the payroll of the Dark Queen?” I prodded.
“Yes.”
“Is that the only person from whom you accept payment?” Raj asked.
Finn smirked again. Florence twisted her rapier again. “No,” Finn gasped, color draining from his already pale face.
“Can you remove the bonds you placed in Emma’s mind without coming face to face with her?” I asked.
“No.”
“Is your protection against my magic a talisman or something placed within your body?” I asked.
He didn’t answer.
“Time is running out if we don’t want him to die,” Florence said.
“And we still want that?” I asked.
She sighed. “Yes. Reluctantly.”
“You are such a popular guy around here, Finn,” I said. “One last time. Why are you here?”
He slumped a bit, and Florence pulled out her sword. He straightened, grinned impudently at us, turning around to include Florence in that grin, and then poofed out.
“Dammit,” she yelled. “He tricked me!”
The walls took on a decidedly frost
y appearance. “Florence, stop! I’m cold enough already.”
She took a deep breath and then looked at me. “Are you okay?”
“Yes. Isaac isn’t dead.”
“Oh, honey. I know it’s hard, but Finn can’t lie. You know that.”
“He can’t lie, but he can believe something that isn’t true. I can still feel Isaac through our mate bond. He’s alive. He’s hurt, but not dead. Finn said he saw Isaac drawing his last breath, but didn’t say he saw him die. Just believed that it was his last breath and that it would lead to death. Isaac is not dead.”
The look on Florence’s face betrayed that she thought I was in a little bit of denial.
“Just, don’t tell Emma, okay? I think she’s fragile enough already without finding out that Finn forged a mental bond with her and can find us anytime. And the part where Finn thinks Isaac is dead.”
“Consideration for Emma?” Florence looked incredulous.
“She’s a whiney, obnoxious werewolf Barbie who wants to find fault with everything about me, but she’s had a rough last six or fifty years and the last week has probably been the hardest. I’m not a monster, Florence. I mean, I don’t like her, but I don’t want to hurt her deliberately.”
“Werewolf Barbie?” Emma asked. Dammit! Why were so many people able to sneak up on me today?
In the end, we had to tell Emma about Finn. She’d heard too much to be put off. I let Florence tell her. She was better at breaking news gently than I was, even if it had been someone I liked. Emma took the news about as well as I expected. She flatly refused to let Finn come anywhere near her to remove the bond, and although I was frustrated, I understood. I’d had a bond removed myself, and I knew how scary it could be. Plus, I didn’t have whatever history Emma had with Finn that made Florence and Raj feel all homicidal. I hoped that at some point, she’d change her mind, but decided that today wasn’t the time to push it. I really was growing as a person.
Emma wasn’t, though. Once she’d digested the initial shock of finding out that Finn had done…something to her that allowed him to track her and read her thoughts from afar, she decided the best way to alleviate her horror over those issues was to harp on my terrible taste in men, obviously including Raj in that based on the pointed looks she kept giving him, and wondering—loudly and repeatedly—how I’d managed to trick Isaac into bonding with me. It did have the benefit of keeping me warm, and when I thanked her for that—interrupting a long-winded diatribe on my total unsuitability as a mate for the bestest and noblest and most gifted of all werewolves in the history of the supernatural world—she didn’t even have the grace to say, “You’re welcome.”
