ã€ŠKeeping Secret (Secret McQueen #4)ã€‹


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    Chapter One

    Vampires can¡¯t fly, but a grown man can if you throw him hard enough.

    That was the hard truth vampire hunter Shane Hewitt learned when I chucked him off the top of the bleachers of the empty high school gym we were in. He bounced when he landed and slid with a squeal. I couldn¡¯t tell if the sound was from him yowling in pain or from his face grinding on the polished hardwood.

    I winced. Not very fitting of a deadly former assassin, but I felt a little bad. Shane had put up a good fight, but he was outmatched. I should have gone easier on him, but the fact of the matter was I wasn¡¯t here to coddle him, I was here to help keep him alive. He clambered to his feet with all the grace of a geriatric elephant, moaning and groaning the whole time. When he was standing tallish again, I leapt from the top of the bleachers to the bottom row, landing steadily in my knee-high black-heeled boots.

    ¡°Do you know how I was able to do that?¡±

    Next to me on the bleachers my human ward, Nolan Tate, timidly raised his hand. Nolan was about six feet tall and built like a college linebacker. Seeing him ask for permission to speak as though I were really a teacher was so endearing my heart swelled. Too bad my question was meant for Shane. I touched Nolan¡¯s shoulder, and he put his hand down.

    ¡°Because you¡¯re a freak of nature?¡± Shane growled.

    I had to laugh because he was more spot-on than he realized. Shane thought I was a freak because it was unheard of for a Tribunal leader, one of the three most powerful members of the vampire council, to be personally helping a disrespected, no-rank, human bounty hunter. In reality, my freakishness ran much deeper. I was a vampire, sure, but that was only half the story. The other half was werewolf, making me one hell of an unnatural disaster.

    Seeing as a mere handful of people knew about what I was¡ªand Shane wasn¡¯t one of them¡ªI replied with, ¡°Close, but not the answer I was looking for.¡±

    Once upon a time I had been in Shane¡¯s place. Lowest on the totem pole, getting zero respect from the council while they expected me to kill their rogues and obey their every whim. Since then I had become one of them, and now my own whims were those to be obeyed. It was sort of surreal what could come from beheading one bitchy blonde vampire.

    Shane wiped a dribble of blood off his chin. If he wanted to live to see his thirty-third birthday, he was going to have to start listening to me more and sass-talking me less. I had a whole new appreciation of what a hardship it had been for my mentor, Francis Keats, to put up with me when I was a rash sixteen-year-old.

    When Shane didn¡¯t reply right away, Nolan shifted nervously beside me. He knew I had a notoriously short fuse and was even shorter on patience. Nolan seemed to appreciate my lessons, whereas Shane often acted as if he felt they were beneath him.

    I cleared my throat and kept my voice calm like I had to in Tribunal sessions. ¡°Shane. Tell me why I was able to throw you.¡±

    ¡°Because you¡¯re stronger than me,¡± he admitted, staring at his scuffed motorcycle boots.

    While it took cojones for him to say it, I had been hoping for a different response. ¡°No, that¡¯s not the reason. Why was I able to throw you?¡±

    Nolan went to raise his hand again but appeared to think better of it and scratched his head as a halfhearted cover-up. My less-obliging student tromped over and sat beside me on the bleachers, rubbing his tender jaw.

    ¡°I didn¡¯t see the second swing coming.¡±

    ¡°That¡¯s the first part of it, yes. What else?¡± I sat down between Shane and Nolan, waiting for the former¡¯s reply while the latter watched us in rapt silence. Nolan had been an incredible find in a bar full of would-be vampire hunters. He wasn¡¯t much with the killer edge, but he had a survival instinct that was more finely tuned than anyone I¡¯d ever met. I also loved him like a younger brother, and it made me especially protective of him.

    ¡°I don¡¯t know.¡±

    ¡°Then you¡¯re dead. Think, Shane. I¡¯m not doing this to be cruel, trust me. If I wanted to be cruel, you wouldn¡¯t have gotten up at all.¡±

    He stopped touching his face and took off his leather jacket. One of the studs had bitten into my hand when I punched him in the gut. I used to think the jacket was a prop to bolster his bad-boy image, but I was starting to see a defensive logic to it. Personally, I wore mine because it looked cool. Though recently it had taken an unfortunate swim with me, and the leather would never be the same.

    Shane sighed a little too dramatically and cracked his knuckles. The fighting man¡¯s thinking posture.

    ¡°Th¡ª¡±

    ¡°Just give me a minute,¡± he grumbled as I tried to goad him into answering. Then¡ªlike the proverbial light bulb going off¡ªhis eyes widened, and I knew he¡¯d figured it out. ¡°When I went to counter the blow, I leaned back. You took advantage of my shifted balance and used it to throw me.¡±

    I grinned at him. ¡°Bang.¡±

    ¡°But if he didn¡¯t see the second swing coming, how could he have prevented the counter?¡± Nolan asked.

    ¡°That¡¯s simple.¡± My smile was loose and easy as I got to my feet and stood facing them. My fist darted out, and I stopped it a hairsbreadth away from Nolan¡¯s nose. His eyes bugged, and I could feel his hot, quick breaths on my knuckles. ¡°You have to always expect the second swing.¡±

    When I pulled my hand away, he let out a small sigh. The squeaky-wheeled hum of the janitor¡¯s cleaning cart echoed down the hall outside. I offered one of my hands to each of the men, and they both accepted, allowing me to pull them to their feet. We used to panic when we heard the janitor¡¯s cart, until we realized he wore headphones and kept the volume on his Rod Stewart cassette cranked to insane levels. Since then we took our time leaving when we heard him approaching the gymnasium.

    ¡°Let¡¯s call it a night,¡± I suggested. Sometimes when we left the gym, we¡¯d go for practice hunts in the park, taking advantage of the warmer evenings associated with early spring. We were all glad to be rid of winter¡¯s icy shackles, but tonight I didn¡¯t feel like hunting with the boys. The other two members of the Tribunal were beginning to suspect something was amiss with my evening activities, and I didn¡¯t want to push my luck. I still had my freedom, and they hadn¡¯t put me back under the watchful eye of the council¡¯s lowly wardens. I wanted to keep it that way.

    You can only tempt fate so often before she turns around and bites you in the ass.

    Getting out of the gym was significantly easier than getting in. To enter, we had to scale a chain-link fence and I¡ªbeing the one with supernatural dexterity¡ªhad to shimmy up a drainpipe to a high window. Afterwards I could unlock the back door and let the boys in. It was a shame they kept locking it on us every time we came because it would save me a heck of a climb if they¡¯d leave it open.

    When we were back outside, Shane and Nolan made for the fence. They were quick and agile enough for humans, but they weren¡¯t fighting humans in the wild. They were fighting monsters like me. I waited until they were over then drove my point home by grabbing the chain link one-handed and swinging myself up to the top beam of the fence. Then, without pausing to balance, I kicked off from the metal bar and landed deftly between them.

    ¡°Show off,¡± Shane muttered.

    ¡°Awesome,¡± was Nolan¡¯s counter.

    I didn¡¯t get a chance to put in my two cents because my phone started to vibrate in my pocket, and a moment later Billy Idol¡¯s voice was snarling the lyrics to ¡°White Wedding¡±.

    ¡°Shit.¡± I bounced the phone from one palm to the other, trying to make the stupid touch screen do what I wanted. It was shiny and new and stupidly expensive, and it made me miss the hell out of my old, basic flip phone. ¡°I¡¯m late for my meeting with the fucking wedding planner.¡±

    Chapter Two

    I was in hell.

    In my twenty-three years, I had hunted vampires, chased errant fae and even decapitated a demon. But none of them could hold a candle to the horror I had to face tonight.

    Kimberly.

    Or Miss Kimberly Kaitlyn Carlyle, as she introduced herself to me the first time. Her wrist was jangly with gold Tiffany bangles, and her nails were fake gel talons that gave me a shudder when they brushed against my skin.

    ¡°I simply adore your sweater,¡± she drawled, putting too much emphasis on her vowels and too much friendliness in her voice. She was lying.

    I was wearing a sweater I¡¯d pulled out of the back of my closet that had once belonged to my ex-boyfriend Gabriel Holbrook. It had holes in the sleeves and the yarn was pulling loose across the chest, but I couldn¡¯t bring myself to throw it away. Three months earlier I¡¯d watched Gabriel die, and it made it difficult to discard the earthly remnants of him.

    But in this situation it helped me divine what kind of person Kimberly was, because the sweater was a piece of crap. Unless she thought I was wearing it in an ironically messy way, there was no way she would compliment for any reason other than sucking up.

    Which¡ªconsidering she was one of the highest paid wedding planners in New York¡ªwas exactly what she was trying to do. She wanted to please me because she wanted to make nice with the money. Not my money, since I didn¡¯t have any to speak of, but the money associated with the man I was engaged to marry.

    Lucas Rain. Billionaire, corporate head honcho, and the reason I had a massive, flawless diamond ring on my finger. A ring Kimberly kept sneaking glances at while she dangled her bracelets in my face.

    Kimberly was one of those New York City girls who talked a lot but never really said anything.

    ¡°Secret,¡± she said, leaning close to me. We were both seated on plush divans in her too-bright, too-big, too-airy office. Her breath smelled like cinnamon chewing gum, and her nearness made me nervous and defensive. Where the hell was Lucas? He was fifteen minutes late, and I was ready to throttle him for leaving me alone with this woman. She said my name again, making the first e sound like a mosquito¡¯s buzzing.

    She had my attention.

    ¡°What?¡±

    ¡°I said do you have a preference? Monique Lhuillier or Vera Wang?¡±

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    The only thing I knew about wedding dresses was that they were all white, tight and probably impossible to kill someone in.

    Unless that someone was Kimberly, in which case I¡¯d find a way.

    ¡°I don¡¯t know,¡± I admitted.

    ¡°Well, we¡¯ll schedule a trial at Kleinfeld. You might want something totally different.¡± She laughed as if this were the funniest idea in the world. ¡°And you¡¯ll want to have your mother there, I assume.¡±

    My ears felt hot, and I had my hand balled into a fist without meaning to. ¡°My mother¡­¡± I let my fist fall open and dazzled her with the gleaming rock. She was like a kitten looking at a laser pointer. ¡°My mother is dead.¡± This was a lie, but since she¡¯d pretended to like my hideous sweater I figured my lie made us even. The truth about my mother was too ugly for Kimberly and her taffeta-drenched world.

    It was too ugly for my world, and my full-time job was to police the goings-on of the entire vampire population of the East Coast. So¡­that was saying something.

    ¡°Oh¡­goodness.¡± Kimberly¡¯s hand flew to her mouth, then her other darted out and held mine, fingers fumbling against the ring. I fought to not wince. ¡°I¡¯m so sorry.¡±

    I started to say, I¡¯m not, but that was the moment Lucas chose to waltz through the office door in his perfect Armani suit trailing a cloud of apologies behind him. Lucas was the kind of man you wanted to forgive for anything the instant you laid eyes on him. Six foot two and well muscled, he had the blond hair and blue eyes of a corn-fed, all-American, football type. His smile showed off beautiful, even teeth and made a glimmer shine in his eyes brighter than the light off my diamond.

    My breath hitched.

    This was the man I was going to marry.

    He stooped low and planted a kiss on the crown of my head, making tingles radiate down my spine and setting off a chain reaction of tremors that ended low in my pelvis. Kimberly practically fell over me to offer him her hand. Politely, he dusted a kiss over her knuckles and gave her a puckish, panty-melting grin.

    ¡°So sorry I¡¯m late, ladies. Business.¡± He shrugged one shoulder then sat next to me on my divan.

    Lucas was larger than life. His personality overwhelmed everyone around him¡ªmyself included¡ªand suddenly the seat felt too small.

    This was what it was like to be dwarfed by the werewolf king of the East. Even humans like Kimberly who knew nothing about our world respected the authority he threw off in waves. She probably assumed it was the power of wealth that made him so indomitable. It wasn¡¯t. He was royalty.

    And soon I would be too.

    My mouth felt dry, like I¡¯d swallowed a shot of sand.

    Lucas sensed my unease and took one of my hands in his, squeezing gently. Once upon a time being this close to him would have filled my mouth with a burst of cinnamon. Now, with our mate bond sealed, the connection was deeper, but the comforting flavor was gone. The only cinnamon in the room was the strong waft of it coming from Kimberly¡¯s mouth as she caught Lucas up on what he¡¯d missed.

    ¡°Well, Miss McQueen,¡± she said, switching to an unnatural-sounding formal address, then she caught herself doing it and giggled. ¡°Oh goodness, I guess pretty soon you won¡¯t be hearing that anymore.¡±

    I wrinkled my nose and stared at her as though she were a duck who had learned to knit. ¡°Why the hell not?¡±

    Her attention darted back and forth between me and Lucas, and I knew she wasn¡¯t sure where she¡¯d made the mistake. ¡°I just meant¡­with you getting married¡­well, your name would be¡ª¡±

    I waved a hand at her, trying to erase the 1950s logic she was trying to weave into sensible reasoning. Sure, I¡¯d wear a white dress. I¡¯d force my scant collection of girlfriends to dress up in matching gowns and fawn over me while eyeing Lucas¡¯s groomsmen for prospects. But I would be damned if she thought I¡¯d be changing my last name.

    ¡°Kimberly,¡± I cut her off. ¡°I appreciate that Lucas¡¯s name has a lot of heft in the financial world and in¡­other arenas. However, my name is ridiculous enough as it is. If I changed it to Secret Rain, people would assume I was a stripper. Or a yacht.¡±

    I figured Lucas would chide me for my impropriety. He was a big fan of pointing out how I always chose the most inopportune times to be snarky. However, in this case, he attempted to fight off his laughter, and it ended up bubbling out as a loud snort.

    Kimberly looked appalled, but her veneer restored quickly, and she was back in ass-kissing mode in no time. A true professional. The first rule of being a New York City wedding planner¡ªdo everything your client wants, and never ask them why they want it. Never ask. Never correct. Especially if your client is worth over a billion dollars and has insisted you ¡°spare no expense¡± in planning his big day in less than a month.

    The average bride spends over a year planning her wedding.

    Well, let¡¯s be honest, the average woman starts planning her wedding the day she learns what one is. The actual bridal planning, however, cannot begin until the ring is firmly on finger and the husband-to-be has made the big commitment.

    I was not an average bride.

    Lucas¡¯s proposal, though it had been a grand and romantic public gesture, hadn¡¯t been made because he was crazy in love with me. He could profess his love all he wanted, but we both knew the truth. The werewolf king had proposed because having a queen would solidify his throne. Bonus points if his new queen happened to be from royal werewolf lineage.

    That¡¯s where I came in. Southern werewolf princess, bonded soul mate, and the on-paper perfect queen. On-paper being the operative term. Lucas had come to realize over the last year I wasn¡¯t at all the perfect-princess type, and it had started to wear on our relationship. It didn¡¯t help that I was also soul-bonded to another werewolf, Lucas¡¯s lieutenant Desmond Alvarez.

    And it certainly didn¡¯t help that I loved Desmond more than I loved Lucas.

    Yet here we were. There was a massive diamond on my finger and a wedding planner with dollar signs in her eyes waiting to yield to my every wedding whim.

    Lucas took my hand and kissed it, his lips lingering a few seconds too long as he looked up at me and winked, which sent another thrill down to my toes. Love was such a complicated bitch, more so when the supernatural got thrown into the mix. On a logical level, I knew Lucas was wrong for me. On a metaphysical level, though, a part of me needed him as much as I needed oxygen. Now that our mate bond was complete, we were connected on a level that defied explanation.

    I knew he needed this from me, and I couldn¡¯t deny him something as simple as a wedding.

    ¡°Let¡¯s talk about bridesmaid dresses,¡± I said, giving Kimberly my most saccharine smile.

    Chapter Three

    Two hours later Lucas and I had selected our wedding colors¡ªsunflower yellow and cobalt blue¡ªwe¡¯d named our attendants, picked an invitation and the venue was finalized. In three weeks we would become Mr. and Mrs. in the ballroom of Lucas¡¯s own Columbia hotel, with a dazzling reception to follow across the street in Bryant Park. Not since it had been the home of Fashion Week would the park see such a display.

    My stomach hurt from spending so much time debating the difference between ivory tablecloths and snowflake white. I was eternally grateful for Lucas¡¯s presence when the question of table runners and low versus high centerpieces came up. He¡¯d grown up in a family who had money to burn and had watched these types of events take place his entire life. He knew what our wealthy guests would expect better than I did.

    In the end there was only one point I stuck my ground on with Hurricane Kimberly. She was adamant about a white rose and lily bouquet being the way to go. I wanted yellow gerbera daisies. She claimed gerberas were out of the question. They were too pedestrian, too simple. I wouldn¡¯t yield. It was gerberas or it was a different wedding planner.

    I won that particular battle, and my pedestrian bouquet was granted.

    It wasn¡¯t until we reached the parking lot that I realized I was clutching a big Tiffany-blue binder with the words Bridal Bible embossed on the cover. Inside were swatches of fabrics, sketches of the way Kimberly envisioned the ceremony and reception sites, and brochures for photographers. I think she¡¯d given us homework, but for the life of me I couldn¡¯t remember anything she had said in the last twenty minutes.

    Placing the binder on the hood of my yellow BMW Z4, I dug through my pockets in search of my keys, trying my best to not face Lucas.

    ¡°Go ahead and say it,¡± he said.

    ¡°Say what?¡±

    ¡°Whatever it is that¡¯s making you so quiet. I know you¡¯ve got a whole speech stored up about Kimmy at the very least.¡±

    ¡°Kimmy?¡± I could no longer face away. I turned so he could get the full effect of my stunned expression. ¡°Since when are we on a nickname basis with Our Lady of Tulle and Buttercream?¡±

    He smirked. I had to give him credit for that. In the year we¡¯d known each other he had come a long way in accepting my little foibles. Specifically my penchant for sarcastic outbursts. He answered my question as if I¡¯d asked it in a completely rational manner. ¡°The Carlyle family are old friends of my parents. Kimmy¡­Kimberly used to babysit Kellen from time to time. She¡¯s a few years younger than Des and me. I hired her because I knew it¡¯s what my parents would have wanted.¡±

    I suppressed the urge to make a face. His logic was sound, and since his parents were both dead, it was difficult for me to question what they would or wouldn¡¯t have wanted.

    ¡°Fine.¡± I found my keys and unlocked the car, chucking the blue binder carelessly into the backseat. ¡°Why are we going through all this?¡±

    ¡°The big wedding, you mean?¡±

    ¡°Yeah. Wouldn¡¯t eloping be easier?¡±

    ¡°Most women can¡¯t wait to hear the words spare no expense when it comes to planning their wedding, Secret.¡±

    ¡°But I don¡¯t care. I don¡¯t care if we serve Mo?t or Cristal. I don¡¯t care if the girls have Romona Keveza dresses or if I have a frigging diamond tiara. None of this is me.¡±

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    He crossed the distance between us, and given his height advantage, I had to look up to see his eyes. With one hand on each of my shoulders, he bent down and gave me a gentle, sweet kiss on the lips. I licked the lower curve of his mouth, hoping for a lingering taste of cinnamon, but tasted nothing there other than the faint salt of his skin. I kissed him back anyway, wrapping my hands around his wrists and letting my tongue explore the bumpy ridges on the roof of his mouth before capturing his lip between my teeth and giving it a playful nip.

    ¡°I know you don¡¯t want the big show.¡± He kissed my nose, then my forehead, and last but not least, each of my closed eyelids. ¡°I know you¡¯re being incredibly patient about this. Or as patient as you can be.¡± I didn¡¯t miss his little jab. ¡°And if there was any other way to do this, I promise you we would be doing it, but there isn¡¯t any other way.¡±

    ¡°No courthouse steps? A quickie trip to Vegas?¡± I smiled hopefully.

    ¡°It needs to be big. Nothing can be overlooked. News of it has to spread to all the other kingdoms, and they need to see that we are really, truly united. Once that happens, I think we can finally be at peace.¡±

    He was dreaming. For the past several months some of the Alphas of the smaller packs in Lucas¡¯s territory were showing signs of unrest. There were rumors circulating of packs attempting to leave the protection of the East and seek the leadership of the South. My uncle, Callum McQueen, King of the Southern packs, swore he had no part in it, but it was hard to imagine small packs making such a bold move on their own.

    And if my uncle was cut from the same cloth as my mother, his sister, then he wouldn¡¯t rest until he had all of Lucas¡¯s territory. We¡¯d made slight headway when Lucas proposed, and I understood why he thought the big wedding would help more, but I didn¡¯t think it would be enough to shut Callum down.

    It might be enough to reaffirm our own pack¡¯s opinion of our leadership though. Making a pack protector the queen certainly gave the impression of a powerful team at the helm.

    A team that took two players working together to function properly.

    ¡°Okay,¡± I said, kissing his cheek and once again mourning the missing taste. ¡°We¡¯ll go big or go home.¡±

    ¡°Thank you.¡± Lucas¡¯s smile this time was hesitant.

    ¡°What? You¡¯ve got one of those looks you get when you know I¡¯m going to be mad about something.¡±

    ¡°I want you to remember what you just said,¡± he suggested, then handed me a stiff envelope. For a moment I trembled. When I was still an assassin for the council, I used to receive the names of my targets in envelopes identical to this one.

    My hands shook slightly as I opened the unsealed back flap and pulled out the card inside. Just like with my hits, the card had a name on it. Two names actually. One was mine and the other was Lucas¡¯s.

    ¡°What is¡­?¡± But I was already reading the rest of the text. This slip of paper was cordially inviting me to my own engagement party.

    Tomorrow.

    My gut reaction was to crumple the invitation and throw it at him. We¡¯d had more discussions than I cared to remember about him springing things on me or doing things that involved me without talking to me about them first. My cheeks felt warm, and I took a few short breaths to steady my temper.

    ¡°Surprise?¡± he offered, a boyish smile creeping over his mouth. ¡°Admit it. If I¡¯d asked ahead, you would have said no outright.¡±

    ¡°I¡ª¡±

    ¡°Admit it.¡±

    He was right. Never in a million years would I have agreed to an engagement party. I slid the invitation back into the envelope and threw them both inside the car beside the binder.

    ¡°Well,¡± I sighed. ¡°I guess I had better go buy a new dress.¡±

    Chapter Four

    Time is meaningless to vampires, which makes them a pain in the ass to carpool with.

    ¡°Brigit,¡± I bellowed, stomping around her sparsely decorated living room in my five-inch Christian Louboutin heels. The shoes were amethyst purple and looked extra gemlike when paired with my butter-yellow, long-sleeved, scoop-necked party dress. Normally the only fashion sense I have is picking out pretty shoes, but I thought the dress was sophisticated and downright regal.

    Not that anyone was going to get to see me in it at the rate my vampire ward was dragging her ass to get ready.

    The vampire in question popped her head out from her bedroom door, her blonde hair still pinned up in hot curlers. My eyes bugged when I saw how far removed from good-to-go she was. I swear I could feel an artery swell in my temple, throbbing loudly with the threat of bursting at any minute. Oh please, let me die of an aneurism. Then I wouldn¡¯t have to kill her.

    ¡°Seriously?¡± I croaked.

    ¡°No, no, no.¡± She waved her hand dismissively at me, batting away my irritation like a cat with a toy. Then she stepped out of her bedroom to show me she was fully dressed in a pretty cornflower-blue dress. She looked like every pretty, perky Midwestern girl-next-door clich¨¦ I could think of. But more than that, she was fresh-faced and beautiful. As she pulled the rollers out of her hair, I couldn¡¯t help but let out a laugh. ¡°What?¡± she asked, her gaze drifting down to her dress as though the outfit was the source of my mirth.

    ¡°Your hair.¡± I pointed to the thick, bouncy curls now forming where the rollers had once been.

    ¡°What about it?¡±

    I ran a hand through my own hair, stick straight from an earlier stop at the salon. My hair was naturally a mess of thick, loose curls, much like those Brigit had created for herself. Her typical style was straight and glossy. We looked like twins who had decided to swap roles for the night. Once she had taken out all the rollers, it was uncanny how similar she looked to me, even from my less-than-objective perspective on things.

    ¡°You want to pretend to be me for this stupid party?¡± I asked, only half kidding.

    ¡°Secret, I love you and all, but there isn¡¯t enough money in the world to make me want to be you.¡± Her long lashes fluttered innocently, but there was a flash of fang in her smile, giving her the appearance of something predatory.

    My baby vampire was really settling into her new life. It had only been a year since she¡¯d been forcibly turned into a blood-sucking fiend, but she was taking her new status in stride. Although she¡¯d once hated being an undead American, it seemed as though she was starting to relish it more and more with each passing month. I wish I could accept my vampiric heritage as well as she did.

    ¡°You ready?¡± She slung a purse over her shoulder and tapped an impatient toe as though I¡¯d been the one dragging ass this whole time. The great thing about Brigit was no matter how hard she tried to look serious or menacing, she could never fake it. In a moment she was grinning and giggling like a preteen.

    ¡°Let¡¯s get this show on the road.¡±

    Central Park West would never not remind me of the shitty prime-time soap opera that once bore the same name. My grandmere had loved the cheeky show so much she used to tape it weekly, which was how I¡¯d stumbled across it years after it aired and before I moved to the city itself. Parked outside the shiny monstrosity of an apartment block where my future sister-in-law lived, I couldn¡¯t help imagining people cheating on their spouses and sleeping off midday hangovers within the bowels of the complex. Rich people didn¡¯t tend to want for material things, so they spent most of their time wanting attention instead. When they didn¡¯t get that, well¡­shit met fan.

    The reputation of one Miss Kellen Rain was a prime example of attention whoring gone wrong. Although I now knew her personally, I still got a sick sort of voyeuristic pleasure from reading about her exploits in the weekly gossip columns. From burning down the bar of an Italian bistro in the West Village, to having sex in the turtle pond in Central Park, there was never a shortage of rumors. The turtle-pond rumor had been made even more humorous, given Kellen¡¯s reaction when I asked her about it.

    ¡°Please,¡± she¡¯d said with a dramatic eye roll. ¡°Do you have any idea what kind of bacteria is in that pond? Not to mention the turtles. Ugh. I have a shapeshifter predisposition. As if I¡¯d risk getting bitten by a turtle and becoming some bizarre Ninja Turtle freak.¡± At that point I had made a comment on the lady protesting too much. ¡°Well, I did have sex in the park¡­but in the castle, not the pond.¡±

    That was Kellen Rain in a nutshell. Unapologetic and somehow totally loveable.

    She had also missed the memo on bridesmaids not overshadowing the bride at wedding-related events. When she bounded past the building¡¯s doorman, even he did a double take, and I¡¯d never seen the man so much as blink before. In spite of the brisk mid-April weather, Kellen was wearing a slinky gold dress dripping with flouncy fringe. She looked like a Bond girl. Or a stripper from the ¡¯20s.

    Once she had clambered over Brigit into the tiny backseat of the BMW, which was barely a backseat at all, Kellen put an elbow next to each headrest and perched her smiling face on both hands. Only when the car door slammed did the doorman shut his mouth and come out of his stupor.

    ¡°Subtle ensemble, Kel.¡± I shook my head, unable to be genuinely irritated. Between Brigit and Kellen, I was in danger of losing my killer edge. They were making me soft, at least when the attacks involved charm.

    ¡°You look like a chandelier,¡± Brigit added, but the awe in her voice was all it took to know she wasn¡¯t being rude.

    Kellen, who had heard every possible derisive comment and cruel barb, seemed taken aback by the young vampire¡¯s compliment. She blushed. ¡°Thanks, Brigit. You look pretty too.¡±

    I revved the engine. ¡°All right, all right, enough. Have either of you two ever driven on the highway with a vampire in a sports car?¡± My two bridesmaids exchanged nervous glances in the rearview mirror and fastened their seat belts in a hurry. I flipped my straight hair over my shoulders and gave a wicked chuckle. ¡°Smart girls.¡±

    And with that, I peeled out of the parking spot with enough burning rubber to make Steve McQueen proud to share a name with me.

    Chapter Five

 Page 4

    Under normal circumstances, the trip to Lucas¡¯s mansion in Upstate New York should have taken over an hour. Google Maps would tell you so, anyway. The narrow two-lane highway wound like an asphalt snake through a towering hall of pine and bare-branched oak. Every time you passed another car you took your life into your own hands, risking oncoming traffic around the next tight curve in the road.

    Whenever I drove from the city to Lucas¡¯s sprawling country estate, the looming darkness of the trees made me nervous. The dark can hide so many evils, I was hesitant to let my eyes linger on the tree line because my overactive imagination could formulate any number of potential attacks from within.

    I never expected the road itself would be the thing I should fear.

    The first blow was so sudden I thought I¡¯d run something over. But as my gaze darted to the rearview mirror to see what poor fox or badger I might have killed, the previously unseen car behind me turned on its brights. The glare of the lights flashed in my eyes, rendering me momentarily blind. As the fist-sized spots of light swam in my vision, the car struck us again. This time the BMW bucked and I lost control of the wheel, swerving into the oncoming lane, which remained empty by some miracle.

    Kellen let out a startled shriek and held on to my headrest. I got myself together, blinking away the blind spots, and swung the car into the proper lane, overshooting by a hair and sending a wave of gravel arcing backwards when I hit the shoulder.

    I jerked the wheel back from the edge of the road and jammed my foot down on the brake, forcing the car into a sudden spin and making my tires scream as they burned a trail of hot rubber across the cool spring blacktop. When the car came to a halt, steam was rising off the cement and my BMW was headlight to headlight with a black Corolla. Possibly the least distinctive car imaginable.

    Kellen squeezed my shoulder, reminding me I was not alone in this hellish game of bumper cars.

    When I looked to my right at Brigit¡ªjust a quick shift of my gaze since I didn¡¯t want to take my eyes off the car in front of me¡ªthe young vampire was wide-eyed but wore a vaguely excited expression. Kellen, on the other hand, was threatening to break my collarbone with her death grip.

    ¡°What do they want?¡± she asked, her voice high and trembling. ¡°What do they want, Secret?¡±

    I shrugged off her hand, trying not to be cruel about it. My future sister-in-law was terrified, and my being flippant wasn¡¯t going to help anyone.

    ¡°I don¡¯t know,¡± I replied honestly. ¡°Do you want me to get out and ask?¡±

    Okay, so maybe it wasn¡¯t a nice response, but in perilous situations I have a bad habit of overindulging in sass, so all things considered it was politer than I would have been normally.

    Kellen didn¡¯t seem to be fazed¡ªshe was too busy being scared out of her mind. ¡°No,¡± she said. ¡°No, please don¡¯t.¡±

    The Corolla revved its engine. My stupid brain was reminded of the scene in Footloose where the two boys decide to play chicken using tractors. It was all I could picture as the black car edged forward.

    ¡°Ladies,¡± I whispered, shifting the car into reverse and letting up on the brake a fraction of an inch. ¡°Hold the fuck on.¡±

    I did my best to press the gas pedal right into the floor, and the car responded by growling and shooting backwards at a breakneck speed. The Corolla was left in our dust as I sped around a curve, but our reprieve was short-lived when the familiar lights slid past the bend like a luminous worm.

    There was a secondary flash, quick and bright as lightning, and then my windshield gave a wheeze and a bullet tore through the interior, past all three of us, and out the rear window. I expected the safety glass to crack and shatter into a million tiny squares, but instead it seemed to move out of the way of the projectile, leaving a puckered hole in both windows and trailing spider-web cracks around the entry and exit points.

    Kellen screamed loud and long. Brigit, who no longer needed breath to live, let out a gasp and braced her hand against the dash.

    I rolled down my window, and a howl of cool April air blasted the interior of the car as we continued our frenzied pace along the highway with only the dim red lights of rear bulbs to guide us. I could see in the dark, but with headlights shining in my eyes and a car going backwards at almost sixty miles an hour, I was tempting fate on a scary level.

    ¡°Bri, my gun.¡±

    ¡°Where?¡±

    ¡°There¡¯s one in the glove box.¡±

    She didn¡¯t need to be told twice. The glove box was open and the gun loaded and in my waiting palm before I had a chance to say please.

    ¡°I need your foot.¡± This time I had to take my gaze off the road to look at her because I wasn¡¯t sure she¡¯d understand what I was asking for. She was shaking her head emphatically even as she shifted in her seat, moving her legs from under the dash.

    ¡°You can¡¯t.¡±

    ¡°What are you talking about?¡± Kellen piped in, her voice barely above a whisper.

    ¡°Don¡¯t worry,¡± I told them both. ¡°I know what I¡¯m doing.¡±

    It never ceased to amaze me, but whenever I used those words, people were stupid enough to believe me. And I think every time I said it, I hadn¡¯t the faintest idea in hell what was going to happen next.

    Brigit stopped shaking her head and Kellen sat back in her seat, muttering what sounded like the Lord¡¯s Prayer. Good. If God was listening, we could use a little divine intervention for what I was about to do.

    ¡°On the count of three,¡± I instructed Brigit. She nodded her mute acceptance.

    The window was rolled all the way down, and my hair whipped across my face. The whole left side of my body was alive with goose bumps, but my rage was so focused I couldn¡¯t feel the cold.

    ¡°One.¡±

    I undid my seat belt and let it wind itself up with a loud whir. ¡°What are you doing?¡± Kellen asked. When I didn¡¯t answer, she turned to Brigit. ¡°What is she doing?¡±

    ¡°You really don¡¯t want to know. Like really, really.¡±

    I ignored them both. ¡°Two.¡±

    Letting up on the gas, I slowed the car just enough I figured we might not die in a horrible fiery wreck in the next second. Then I met Brigit¡¯s gaze and smiled with forced hopefulness. She looked as grim as I felt.

    ¡°Three.¡±

    Chapter Six

    With the gun still in my hand, I shifted the stick back into drive. Using my left hand, I spun the wheel a full rotation before dragging myself out the open window. Brigit, true to her word, had managed to place her foot on the gas pedal, and we started to gain speed the second I was in my new position.

    I hooked one heel on the upper curve of the steering wheel and wedged the arch of my foot on the lower portion, giving me an anchor within the car and also the ability to keep steering. Brigit could keep the gas going, but she couldn¡¯t read my mind.

    Now that the car was facing forwards again, I had to turn backwards to see our would-be assailants, and I had no intention of letting them follow through with whatever they had planned. Another burst of light and a loud crack preceded the arrival of the next bullet, but I kicked my foot slightly and the car veered to the right. A lock of my hair, newly severed, flew off and into the dark. I righted the car and then returned fire.

    The first bullet was a direct hit, and the other car had a properly designed windshield because it shattered the instant the bullet struck, raining small pellets of glass all over the interior of the cab. The shards glistened in the light of the moon and my taillights, making them look like polished bits of bloody ice.

    The car swerved, but I must not have hit the driver because soon enough they were back in the right lane and two more bullets zinged past me.

    ¡°Son of a¡ª¡± Another bullet was fired, only this one didn¡¯t miss.

    Pain seared through my shoulder, and I lost control of the car when my legs twitched in response to the itchy burn between my collarbone and neck. Now I was really mad. I lifted the gun, but my arm responded by going limp and crumpling under the minor weight of the weapon. I was so startled by the uselessness of my own limb I almost dropped my gun.

    Only one thing would turn my entire arm to dead weight so quickly.

    Silver.

    Whoever was driving the Corolla was using silver bullets, which sent a cool fear slithering down my back. I¡¯d been through more than my fair share of kidnapping attempts and, stupidly, that¡¯s what I¡¯d believed this was. Or an incredibly motivated carjacker who really, really wanted a yellow BMW.

    The silver bullets meant something more sinister. It meant this person was, without a doubt, here to kill me.

    It¡¯s not like people wanting to kill me was something new to me. I mean, I¡¯d spent my formative years hunting down and assassinating rogue vampires. It isn¡¯t the kind of job with a long-term life expectancy prospect attached to it. I¡¯d been shot before. I¡¯d been stabbed and bitten and a whole assortment of other bone-crushing, lung-rupturing, life-flashing-before-my-eyes type experiences. You¡¯d think finding out someone was out to get me would be old hat by now.

    But it never stopped sucking.

    Especially because enough people hated me and wanted me dead I didn¡¯t even have a short list for who might be behind the wheel of the car trailing us. The bullets meant they knew I was supernatural and not human, but it didn¡¯t narrow the field much. Silver was used against both vampires and werewolves, and since I was both, I didn¡¯t know which of my monsters they thought they were poisoning with the bullets.

    I braced my feet against the wheel, making sure the BMW wasn¡¯t weaving all over the highway, then transferred my gun to the left hand. It wasn¡¯t my dominant weapon hand, but I could kill with it just as effectively.

    My wounded arm drooped, swinging like a rag doll¡¯s in the wind. The edge of the window dug into my ribs as I steadied myself for the next shot. I was lucky the bullet had torn right through me. The silver poisoning acted fast, but since the bullet wasn¡¯t lodged in my shoulder, I would also heal faster. It would be more than a week before I was up to full health, but if I¡¯d had to wait for the bullet to be removed, I might be waiting a month or more before I healed. Happy wedding day, Secret. Here¡¯s a bullet hole to show off in your white dress.

 Page 5

    I fired again, and this time I wasn¡¯t aiming for the driver, in spite of the new open-air concept of their windshield. My target now was one of function over fatality. The Corolla¡¯s front wheel popped with the gusto of a giant party balloon, and the car jerked wildly.

    Instead of braking, though, the driver sped up. Brigit must have been watching the action because she had started to let up on the gas when I hit the black car¡¯s tire. Between his increase in speed and our sudden drop, the physics of what happened next was inevitable.

    Which didn¡¯t stop me from being surprised when the Corolla smashed into our bumper for the second time that night.

    My foot skidded, the wheel jerking to the right, sending our car into a spin. I sat upright, trying to get my beautiful purple shoes unstuck from the steering wheel, but I was caught, and getting out without looking was a hopeless puzzle. I kicked forward, and the car continued to spin in a full 360-degree turn.

    With my elbows braced on the soft top of the BMW, I emptied the remainder of my clip into the open windshield of the black car. From inside my backseat there was a faint, continuous wail. At first I thought something had been hit and the sound was my engine failing. Then I realized it was Kellen.

    We kept up our dizzying rotation, propelled on our circular course by my own stupid feet. The only way I was getting unstuck was to pull.

    ¡°Brigit,¡± I shouted into the wind. ¡°I need you to grab the wheel.¡±

    Cool hands brushed against my ankles, and I knew she had heard my request.

    Okay, I thought, what¡¯s the worst that could happen?

    With the gun now empty and the driver of the other car no longer returning fire, the weapon was hampering me. I dropped it through the open car window and used my good arm to hold myself steady, then yanked my feet back, freeing them from the trap of the steering wheel.

    Which was the precise moment the Corolla chose to strike again.

    Brigit released the gas and hit the brake, stopping the car with a hard lurch, and I slid from the window, falling fast towards the pavement. First my knees caught the edge of the window, then Brigit wrapped her hand around my ankle, keeping me from falling farther. I took a short breath and felt the blacktop under the crown of my head, so close it was a hair shy from cracking my skull.

    We had stopped, but the Corolla was still veering out of control, and when it hit the front end of the BMW, it sent off an explosion of sparks and kept moving ever closer to where I was dangling. I winced, turning my face away from the burning points of light. My own car lurched, wheels spinning, and we were reversing again.

    The smooth, cold driver¡¯s side door of the Corolla skimmed by me near enough I could have tasted the metal if I stuck my tongue out. In the next moment it tipped onto two wheels and flipped onto its side before tumbling into the ditch with a scream of metal against concrete.

    Brigit stopped the car, and it rolled slightly as she shifted into park. When she released my ankle, I slipped and had the foresight to brace myself for impact before I could smack my head on the road. My knees went over my head, and I did a sloppy somersault before coming to a rest next to the car.

    Brigit¡¯s head appeared through the window, excitement replaced with terror in her wide eyes.

    ¡°Are you okay?¡± she asked.

    Kellen¡¯s white face wedged between the driver¡¯s headrest and the window, staring down at me in wonder. ¡°I was sure your head was going to be smushed.¡±

    I ran a hand through my hair, the straight strands now a tangled mess with a new chunk missing where the bullet had grazed me. The severity of what had just happened began to sink in, and I plopped onto the ground, staring at the two girls as if I¡¯d never seen them before.

    ¡°Can someone call Lucas?¡± I asked, an unfamiliar tremor in my words.

    Kellen nodded with too much enthusiasm and whipped out her cell phone.

    If someone wanted me dead, I might not be their only target.

    Dominick Alvarez wasn¡¯t a very imposing figure. He was slight of build and barely taller than me. With his mussed blond hair and twinkling blue eyes, he usually looked more like a rebel angel than a werewolf king¡¯s bodyguard. But watching him now, as he prowled the area around the crash site with an almost scary focus, I saw a whole new side of him.

    The predatory side.

    He had gone up one side of the road and down the other, sniffing the air and periodically bounding into the ditch, only to return a moment later empty-handed. I think he wanted to be the hero, coming back with a bloodied villain to lay at the feet of Lucas and myself. He looked more and more disappointed every time he came back with nothing to show for his efforts.

    Lucas sat next to me on the dented, battered hood of my BMW. The yellow paint had been scraped away, the front bumper hung loose, and the whole front end up to the driver¡¯s door was scarred and almost shredded.

    That should have been my face.

    Although I wasn¡¯t cold, Lucas had insisted on draping a blanket around me, along with one of his strong arms. I¡¯d found a comfortable spot nestled into the crook of his shoulder, and I was calming myself by breathing in his familiar musky fragrance, a smell unique to him that made me feel safe.

    ¡°Did you notice them following you past the city limits, or did they pick up your trail outside New York?¡± he asked. There was a fine, simmering rage in his voice he was obviously trying to keep buried but couldn¡¯t manage to hide from me.

    ¡°I don¡¯t know.¡±

    ¡°You didn¡¯t see them?¡±

    ¡°No, I wasn¡¯t looking for a tail. We were having a nice drive until the guy rear-ended us. He didn¡¯t even have his lights on until then.¡±

    ¡°Secret, you have to be more¡ª¡±

    ¡°More what?¡± I sat upright and met his soft blue eyes. His expression was etched with anger and worry, and I knew he only wanted to keep me safe, but sometimes he treated me more like a possession than a partner. ¡°There was no way for me to see this guy coming, and I can¡¯t spend my whole life living like a paranoid recluse. I can¡¯t. It¡¯s bad enough the Tribunal won¡¯t let me hunt anymore, but I can¡¯t live in fear that every shadow is hiding a potential killer.¡±

    ¡°Just promise me you¡¯ll be careful.¡±

    ¡°I¡¯m always careful.¡±

    He smiled weakly and brushed a loose strand of hair behind my ear, pushing the whole curtain of blonde over my wounded shoulder. I flinched.

    ¡°I need you to be more careful. Please.¡±

    I pulled the blanket tighter around myself, wincing as the rough wool grazed the bullet hole.

    ¡°I will make a focused effort to be less of a moving target.¡±

    He smiled openly, laughing for the first time since he¡¯d arrived at the messy scene on the highway. ¡°Try not to be a sitting target, either.¡±

    Jackson¡ªa young werewolf in Lucas¡¯s pack¡ªwas pacing the width of the road with an arm around Kellen¡¯s shoulders, whispering something to her I couldn¡¯t quite make out. The newest member of the pack was nice enough, but he made me uneasy. I¡¯d first met him when he was acting as a guard for one of Lucas¡¯s enemies, and after that he¡¯d switched teams, so to speak, and ended up being a welcome member of Lucas¡¯s crew.

    So welcome, Lucas had once sent him to kidnap me.

    I¡¯d broken Jackson¡¯s nose with a tire iron, and ever since then things had been a little, shall we say, tense between us. But he seemed to be taking good care of Kellen, and Lucas trusted him, otherwise he wouldn¡¯t be here with us right now.

    Morgan Scott, the third highest-ranking wolf in Lucas¡¯s pack and the highest-ranking bitch I¡¯d ever met, was standing next to Brigit on the shoulder of the road. I gathered Morgan was supposed to be making sure Brigit was okay, but the two women were giving each other hard looks and keeping a good three-foot distance from each other. Just as well.

    We¡¯d moved the BMW onto the shoulder in case traffic needed to pass through, but it was twenty minutes after the accident before we saw our first car. The Tacoma pickup rounded the bend and threw on its flashing four-way lights as it rolled to a stop beside us.

    The passenger-side window rolled down, and I was about to tell the good Samaritan we didn¡¯t need any help, when the curly halo of Mercedes Castilla¡¯s hair preceded her out the window. Her hair was unruly on a good day, but she seemed to have gone for broke with her curls today and let them fly free in a frizzy brown cloud.

    ¡°I should have known better than to let you drive,¡± she said after a pause and a once-over to see I was still in one piece. She leaned into the cab and said something to the driver. I craned forwards to see better, and saw Owen the Bartender, a cute brunet who worked at a bar near her apartment, staring back at me. He offered me a small wave.

    ¡°You doing okay?¡± he asked as Mercedes opened the passenger door and climbed out.

    ¡°Oh, you know, Owen. Never better.¡± I shrugged, but it hurt too much so I let my arms sag.

    Owen pulled the truck over and put it into park in front of the BMW.

    Mercedes came to stand in front of me, and Owen got out of the truck but stood next to the door, nervously shifting from foot to foot. I couldn¡¯t blame him. I wouldn¡¯t want to get mixed up with a situation like this either, if I could help it.

    ¡°What happened?¡± Mercedes was a detective in the NYPD, so of course asking questions would be her first step.

    I smiled, resting my head against Lucas¡¯s shoulder. ¡°Well, Cedes, this might come as a shock, but it looks like someone out there wants me dead.¡±

    She crouched down on her low heels and shook her head, smiling gently back at me before pointing to her left temple. ¡°Secret, this is my mind. It¡¯s blown.¡±

    Chapter Seven

    Four days after my failed engagement party, I was nursing a slow-healing shoulder and a bad attitude. I was wearing my purple Louboutins for the second time in a week, only now I had paired them with something a little more conservative. I wore a sleek calf-length black dress with a low-cut back. My tiger¡¯s iron pendant, a gift from my grandmere, rested between my breasts, the gold streak in the middle glowing in the dim underground light.

    Grandmere had told me the necklace warded against evil. Frankly, I was willing to take protection wherever I could get it.

 Page 6

    I fidgeted outside the door to the great hall, some twenty-five feet under the streets of New York City. Behind me, Brigit was toying with the hem of her crimson red ¡¯50s-style party dress. She looked unassuming, but the deep red color set off her pale skin and hair, making her seem a little dangerous.

    A month earlier I¡¯d petitioned the other two members of the Tribunal to allow Brigit full warden status. She¡¯d been a vampire for a year and was successfully living on her own, feeding from humans without risking the sanctity of vampires everywhere. She was, as far as I was concerned, more than ready to become a contributing member of the council.

    Sig, the leader of the Tribunal, had agreed. He had been the one to assign Brigit to me in the first place, so I think it pleased him to see me taking interest in her status. Juan Carlos, on the other hand, shot the idea down immediately.

    ¡°She¡¯s too young,¡± he¡¯d insisted.

    ¡°She¡¯s been a vampire for a year,¡± I argued.

    ¡°And that blink of the eye should matter to us? She is a child.¡±

    ¡°But she has proven herself time and again. She¡¯s ready.¡±

    ¡°It will be for the council to decide.¡±

    Without a unanimous agreement from the Tribunal, it would have to be up to the council of vampire elders to settle Brigit¡¯s fate as a warden. And since I had been the one to petition for her, it was up to me to present her to the elders.

    And the elders waited for no one. Not even a Tribunal leader with a bullet hole in her shoulder that was barely closed over.

    ¡°You ready for this?¡± I asked Brigit.

    ¡°Do you think they¡¯ll make me do anything?¡±

    I looked over my shoulder at her. ¡°What do you mean?¡±

    ¡°I don¡¯t know.¡± She shrugged. ¡°Feats of strength? Skill-testing questions?¡±

    ¡°It¡¯s not a Festivus party, Bri. I don¡¯t think they¡¯ll make you fight to the death or anything. I¡¯d like to think we¡¯re a little more advanced as a society than that.¡±

    At the words fight to the death her already pale skin went positively ashen. ¡°Are you sure?¡±

    Before I could answer, the big double doors in front of us swung open.

    ¡°Good afternoon, Tribunal Leader Secret,¡± a warden greeted us, bowing his head to me in a show of respect, then gave a polite nod to Brigit since he outranked her. ¡°The council of elders is ready for you.¡±

    ¡°Thank you.¡± I rotated my shoulder. A hand of aching pain pushed back from inside, protesting the movement. The pain would have to shut up sooner or later because I didn¡¯t like being anything other than one hundred percent. Right now I was at seventy-five percent, if that. I didn¡¯t look back at Brigit because I couldn¡¯t be seen to depend on her. It would be a sign of weakness. ¡°Ready?¡±

    ¡°Yes,¡± she whispered.

    ¡°Chin up.¡± I smiled at the warden, but my words were all for my ward. ¡°What¡¯s the worst that could happen?¡±

    Brigit sighed. ¡°I really wish you hadn¡¯t said it like that.¡±

    The warden stepped out of the way, letting us see into the council chamber for the first time. I¡¯d only been here a handful of times before, in spite of technically being responsible for all the members within the room. The thing I liked about the council of elders was they tended to mind their own business and rely on the Tribunal only when necessary.

    The thing I hated about the council was how I didn¡¯t know enough about what went on behind their closed doors, and I didn¡¯t think twelve vampires over the age of six hundred should be allowed that much privacy.

    It was something I¡¯d learned from Lucas¡ªgive a dog too much leash and he won¡¯t appreciate the illusion of freedom. He¡¯ll just find a way to strangle you with it.

    Located above the Tribunal chambers but still well below street level, the council room was significantly larger than the one Sig, Juan Carlos and I called home. Instead of three raised thrones, though, the council elders sat in low, armless wooden chairs in a half-circle, with an empty space of hard-packed dirt in the middle of the room. Their chairs were all slightly outside the solitary light in the room, which illuminated the place where Brigit and I came to stand.

    In the middle of the semicircle were three larger, high-backed chairs, with six elders on either side. These chairs were reserved for the Tribunal, and one seat was vacant. Mine. In the middle of the room, commanding all the attention even in the minimal light, was Sig. He wore brown leather pants that hung low on his hips, and was slouched in his chair, his long, slender legs sprawled out in front of him. It always amazed me how relaxed he could look, no matter what the situation. I could count on one hand the number of times I¡¯d seen him lose his temper.

    I hoped to keep that number to a minimum because he scared the shit out of me.

    To Sig¡¯s left was Juan Carlos. His mouth curled in its usual sneer, enhanced in its menace by the scar where his upper lip had been cut open in his human life. The permanent leer showed off a formidable fang and an overabundance of loathing for me.

    I blew him a kiss.

    His lip curled even farther, and his dark Spanish features took on a harder edge. He could be as grouchy about this as he wanted. The fact of the matter was, if he had agreed to advance Brigit when I¡¯d brought it up to the Tribunal, we wouldn¡¯t have to be here.

    If he wanted to be a stubborn ass, he had a thing or two to learn about how frustrating and inflexible I could be.

    Brigit stood a step behind me when I came to a stop in the middle of the room. I cast a glance around the half-circle, pausing to look at each elder individually. There wasn¡¯t a gender balance rule among the council, but for the time being there were an equal number of men and women sitting in mixed order on either side of the Tribunal thrones.

    I nodded to each member, and they bowed their heads in return, showing the appropriate display of respect. It must have been hard for some of them, especially the very old ones. Not only was I not a full-blooded vampire, I still had a pulse. For me to outrank them must have ruffled a few feathers, but if that was the case, they hid it well. Ultimately, my succession to the Tribunal had been their decision, and they¡¯d chosen to respect tradition.

    I think most of them had assumed someone would challenge me and I¡¯d be killed shortly after I took my seat. But it had been some nine months since I¡¯d executed the former owner of my position, and I had yet to be called out. Maybe they thought I was doing a good job.

    More likely, they were afraid of what Sig would do if they came forward.

    The Tribunal leader crossed his leather-clad legs at the knee and gazed at me with his ice-blue eyes from under a blond fringe of bangs. He looked almost too casual. ¡°Good evening, Tribunal Leader Secret.¡±

    ¡°To you as well, Tribunal Leader Sig. Tribunal Leader Juan Carlos.¡± I nodded to them both.

    ¡°Tribunal Leader Secret,¡± Juan Carlos growled.

    ¡°And welcome, Miss Stewart,¡± Sig continued, ignoring the venom in Juan Carlos¡¯s tone. Brigit stooped into a low bow, not meeting Sig¡¯s or Juan Carlos¡¯s gaze as she greeted them both appropriately. When she rose, Sig addressed his next comment to me. ¡°So, Secret, you stand in front of us today rather than sitting beside me. How does it feel to be back in your old place?¡±

    A rustle of hushed responses fanned throughout the room. I tried to ignore how scandalized the elders were by his comment and chose to respond as I assumed Sig would want me to. ¡°I don¡¯t plan on getting used to it. Though I don¡¯t miss the bad cushions.¡±

    Sig smirked. ¡°Very good. I think Juan Carlos would miss you terribly if you decided to leave us.¡±

    The former conquistador and I locked gazes and shared a mutual exchange of loathing. Neither of us challenged Sig¡¯s words, though.

    ¡°I will now turn everyone¡¯s attention to Council Elder Hansel, who will lead today¡¯s proceedings.¡± Sig nodded to a compact, dark-skinned man to the right-hand side of my vacant seat.

    The man, who was bald and lean to the point of being skinny, rose to his feet and bowed to the two seated men before turning his attention to me. After a tense pause he bowed to me as well. Hansel was one of the elders who I knew was less than thrilled about my power position. I couldn¡¯t blame him. He was seven hundred years old and I was twenty-three. I nodded back and kept my smile in check. The old ones like Hansel didn¡¯t take well to random displays of emotion. They thought you were silently mocking them.

    We exchanged salutations, then he got down to business. ¡°What motion do you bring before the council on this day?¡±

    ¡°I am here to propose the promotion of my ward, Brigit Stewart, to full warden status.¡± The room flooded with more hushed muttering. I swore they did it to heighten the drama. I crossed my arms over my chest, doing my best not to wince at the renewed fire in my shoulder.

    ¡°This is a serious proposal, Tribunal Leader Secret,¡± Hansel said. His use of my official title sounded forced. If there was anything I hated hearing more than ¡°Miss McQueen¡±, it was ¡°Tribunal Leader Secret¡±. I would only ever be Secret. Anything else sounded absurd to me, especially something as bombastic as my Tribunal moniker. Too bad the title was a part of thousands of years of tradition. I had no say in the matter. Hansel continued. ¡°Why do you believe your ward is ready?¡±

    I listed off the half-dozen reasons I¡¯d given the Tribunal when I first made the appeal. To Juan Carlos and Sig I¡¯d pointed out how, without Brigit¡¯s aid, the former Tribunal Leader Daria would have killed me and gotten away with it. To the council, however, I didn¡¯t want to make it seem like a lowly ward was all that stood between me and certain death. Instead, I focused on her instrumental role in uncovering the rogue within their midst.

    When I finished speaking, the room was silent. Vampires didn¡¯t breathe, so there wasn¡¯t even the sound of throat-clearing, sighing or other human-type background noise. After a painfully long pause, Hansel spoke again.

    ¡°Tribunal Leader Secret, we are thankful for your statement. If it pleases you, your seat awaits.¡± Such careful language. He couldn¡¯t offer me my seat because I was his better, but he needed me to sit down before he could continue.

 Page 7

    I didn¡¯t look at Brigit, but I wanted to. Instead, I claimed my seat next to Sig and glanced at him, hoping he might give me some clue as to how I¡¯d done. His face told me nothing, but once I turned away, he reached over and gave my hand a small squeeze. The action was completed with such graceful stealth that his hand was already gone by the time I turned my head to confirm it was there.

    My mind was still swirling from the lingering traces of his touch, and it took me a moment to regain my composure and remember my young ward was being grilled by the elders.

    ¡°Do you feel you would serve the council well and abide by all the rules set forth by this, the council of elders, and by the Tribunal?¡± Hansel asked.

    ¡°I do,¡± Brigit replied, and I was impressed by her calm demeanor.

    ¡°Do you¡ª?¡± Hansel¡¯s next question was stopped midstream by Juan Carlos.

    ¡°Do you feel your position as a ward of one of the Tribunal leaders should allow you some sort of preferential treatment?¡± he demanded.

    The calm that had washed over me with Sig¡¯s touch disappeared in an instant. What was Juan Carlos doing? He¡¯d had his chance to say what he wanted in private. This was not the place to make a scene.

    ¡°N-no.¡± Unease was apparent in her reply this time.

    ¡°Would you be here, asking us for this, if she hadn¡¯t initiated the process?¡±

    ¡°I-I¡­don¡¯t know.¡±

    ¡°Be honest with us, Miss Stewart.¡±

    ¡°But I¡ª¡±

    This time it was my turn to interrupt someone. ¡°You¡¯re out of line, Juan Carlos.¡± The gasps that ran down both sides of the room were definitely real, and not for dramatic impact.

    The Spanish vampire gripped both of his chair arms, the wood creaking from the force of his grasp. ¡°How dare¡ª¡±

    Sig raised a hand and silenced Juan Carlos¡¯s protest. ¡°My most sincere apologies to the council. From time to time, I¡¯m afraid, my fellow Tribunal leaders forget themselves. Council Elder Hansel, do you believe the judgment can continue without Leaders Secret and Juan Carlos present?¡±

    Both Juan Carlos and I stopped shooting each other death stares long enough to turn our attention to Sig. He was dismissing us? That was unheard of. All council decisions went before the whole of the Tribunal. Sure, he was the leader, but we were a governing unit.

    ¡°It would be most unconventional,¡± Hansel admitted, his words a subdued translation of the shocked expression on my face. When Sig did not reply, Hansel¡¯s gaze darted nervously to the elder next to him, a female vampire named Rebecca with whom I was familiar.

    ¡°It may be in the best interests of the council to eliminate any further disturbances,¡± Rebecca suggested, her French accent making the entire statement sound very¡­proper.

    ¡°Tribunal Leaders Secret and Juan Carlos,¡± Sig said, looking from left to right. ¡°You are excused.¡±

    Chapter Eight

    Excused.

    Just like that, Juan Carlos and I were on the wrong side of the council chamber¡¯s doors, having been shut out by an apologetic-looking warden. What had just happened? First Juan Carlos opened his stupid, deformed mouth, and now I had been kicked out of a meeting I¡¯d requested.

    ¡°I hope you¡¯re happy,¡± I snapped.

    ¡°Happy?¡± He was pacing the width of the corridor, the clip of his pricey leather shoes echoing against the polished stone walls. Clip-clop-clip turn. Clip-clop-clip stop. ¡°I will never be happy as long as you¡¯re involved.¡±

    ¡°What is your fucking problem?¡± In previous years, I would never have dreamed of being so coarse with him, but I was getting sick of his surly attitude, and we were technically equals now. But tell that to him and his massive ego, because he still treated me like dirty gum on the bottom of his shoe.

    Juan Carlos got close, closer to me than he¡¯d ever been in our seven-year acquaintance. He was mere inches away, and with him standing in front of me, the imposing size of his frame was evident for the first time. For years I¡¯d only seen him seated. In fact, I could only remember seeing him on his feet once before this, and I had suffered too much blood loss to pay much attention to his build. Now with him towering over me¡ªanger coming off him in tangible waves¡ªit was hard to notice anything else.

    ¡°You,¡± he spat the word out. ¡°You are my fucking problem.¡± Hearing the profanity spoken in his lingering Spanish accent with his hatred unrestrained in his tone and his rough masculine voice barely able to maintain a whisper, I shuddered.

    ¡°I haven¡¯t done anything to you.¡±

    ¡°You exist. That¡¯s bad enough.¡±

    I took a half step back, but he didn¡¯t give me the space I was seeking. He prowled closer, backing me up until I was against the stone wall and had nowhere left to go. I didn¡¯t like moving away from him in the first place, but his proximity made me uneasy, and I wanted some distance in between us. Now, he had me cornered.

    ¡°Step back,¡± I commanded.

    He placed one hand on either side of my face and leaned in. If it had been anyone else, I might have taken the move as a come-on and assumed he was trying to kiss me. But there was nothing sexual about what Juan Carlos was doing. It was not lust he was projecting¡ªit was pure menace. In spite of my best efforts to appear fearless, a cold sweat trickled down my back.

    ¡°Make me.¡±

    The hair on my arms stood on end. ¡°Are you challenging me?¡±

    He stopped moving at those words. His pupils got huge, blotting out his dark brown irises. For a second I thought he might bite me since the inky blackness filling his eyes was a sure sign of hunger and rage. Instead he balled his hand into a fist and punched the wall beside my head so hard his knuckles were buried in the rock.

    ¡°I asked you a question, Tribunal Leader.¡± I kept my voice steady, but there was no hiding the way my pulse was racing. If he decided to challenge me, I would lose. I had no doubt in my mind.

    Juan Carlos lowered his head towards my neck, his nose grazing the thin skin, sending a renewed wave of shivers through my body. I waited for his nose to lift and his teeth to take their place, but it never happened. He took a deep breath, absorbing my scent through my pulse point, then finally took a step back.

    ¡°I would never dream of challenging you.¡± The formality of his tone made it hard to believe that mere seconds earlier he¡¯d had me pinned against the wall with his fangs barred.

    ¡°I should hope not.¡±

    It was strictly forbidden within the council for members of the Tribunal to challenge each other. Since the only way to become a member of the Tribunal was to kill someone already on it, to have two members attempt to kill each other wouldn¡¯t do anyone any good. The potential for a power vacuum was too great, and as such it was out of the question for one member to challenge another.

    Juan Carlos knew the rules better than anyone. Thankfully, so did I.

    ¡°But I would.¡± He wasn¡¯t looking at me now. Instead he focused on straightening the cuffs of his Armani shirt. When my silence spread past the point of comfort, he proceeded. ¡°If I wasn¡¯t who I am, and he hadn¡¯t forbidden it.¡±

    ¡°He?¡± I didn¡¯t want to continue this conversation. I didn¡¯t want to be alone in the hall with him a moment longer than I needed to be. But still, there was something compelling about what he said. ¡°You mean Sig?¡±

    ¡°Yes. Your benefactor. He is the only reason you¡¯re allowed to keep that precious little pulse of yours.¡± He looked up, his black eyes bright with contempt.

    ¡°Sig¡­ He¡­ I¡­¡± I was flustered. I¡¯d always known Sig had a special interest in me, but I¡¯d never understood what it meant. Hearing Juan Carlos tell me that Sig¡¯s attention was the only reason I was still alive was a little jarring. I liked to think there was more to my success in the Tribunal than the threat of its leader.

    ¡°Yes.¡± A cool voice joined us in the hall, though I hadn¡¯t heard the door open. Maybe it hadn¡¯t. ¡°What about Sig?¡± The man himself was leaning against the wall a few feet behind Juan Carlos. His pale skin glowed slightly in the dim light, his bare chest almost serving as its own milky-white illumination.

    ¡°I¡¯m leaving,¡± Juan Carlos insisted, turning to go, but Sig took a small step away from the wall and barred the way. If Juan Carlos¡¯s physical presence was enough to unnerve me, then Sig¡¯s was enough to make anyone else uneasy. He was over six and a half feet of lean, taut muscle and liquid predatory grace. Seeing Sig move was like watching a wild jaguar hunt.

    ¡°We¡¯re having a little chat,¡± Sig said. ¡°I think it only fair you stay to finish what you started.¡±

    Juan Carlos turned back to me and snarled. ¡°I¡¯d love nothing more than to finish it.¡±

    ¡°I see you two are being calm and rational about this¡­¡± Sig waved a hand between me and Juan Carlos, ¡°¡­tension.¡± He smiled, laughing at his own private joke. Neither Juan Carlos nor I were amused. ¡°Let¡¯s have it out. Juan Carlos, you claim I am the only thing keeping Secret out of an early grave, is that what I am to understand?¡±

    Juan Carlos was hesitant to reply. He watched the Scandinavian master vampire warily before he spoke again, and when he did, his voice was low and empty of its former heat. ¡°Yes.¡±

    ¡°I disagree,¡± Sig said. ¡°I believe Secret has held her own as a member of our Tribunal. Certainly, my¡­favoritism had its benefits when she was our hunter, but now she is our equal.¡±

    ¡°She will never be our equal.¡±

    ¡°Whether you choose to accept it or not, old friend, she has earned her place here just as you and I have. You must learn to respect her.¡±

    They spoke as if I weren¡¯t there, like parents arguing about how to discipline a naughty child. I wanted to wave my arms and cough loudly to remind them I was still present, but common sense won out. Besides, I was relieved to have Juan Carlos¡¯s attention diverted elsewhere.

    ¡°I cannot respect her.¡±

    ¡°You must.¡±

    ¡°You ask too much.¡±

 Page 8

    ¡°No,¡± Sig said, shaking his head. ¡°You yield too little, and that is your real problem. You are stubborn, and she is stubborn, and together you are two foolish asses with one yoke, pulling each other in opposite directions.¡±

    I began to protest when he called me a foolish ass, but at the first burble of noise from my mouth Sig shot me a warning glance that said more than any words could. Silence would be my best course of action here.

    ¡°You cannot expect me to treat her as an equal.¡±

    ¡°I do. And if you cannot, then you are the problem here, not her.¡± Sig placed a hand on Juan Carlos¡¯s shoulder, but the darker man jerked away, flashing his fangs.

    ¡°I said it to her, and I will not say anything different to you. It is only your interest in her that keeps her alive. The moment she no longer captivates your attention, old friend, she will cease to be my problem or anyone else¡¯s.¡±

    Sig¡¯s next words were laden with sadness. ¡°I¡¯m sorry to hear you say it. But know this. The girl will always be my concern. She will never stop being important to me. Let go of your rage.¡±

    ¡°I will let go of my rage when she no longer has a pulse.¡± With that, Juan Carlos forced his way past Sig and disappeared down the hall, the echo of his shoes following him the whole way.

    Chapter Nine

    ¡°You have quite the knack for attracting trouble, my dear.¡± Sig turned his head towards me and leaned against the wall again. ¡°You bring out an anger in him that has been dormant for centuries.¡±

    ¡°Thanks. I guess.¡± I rubbed my bare arms self-consciously. ¡°I don¡¯t mean to make him so mad, you know. It¡¯s not like I run around poking bears.¡±

    ¡°Of course not.¡± His lips quirked up in a good-humored smirk. ¡°You are always innocent. Never tempting fate with an ill-timed remark. Never being the catalyst, the spark that ignites an already dangerous powder keg.¡±

    I frowned and decided to change the subject. I didn¡¯t appreciate his implications. They were too accurate. ¡°Is the session over?¡± The closed door next to him looked ominous, reminding me of how I used to feel before my meetings with the Tribunal.

    ¡°They have some questions for the girl, and then they will deliberate.¡±

    ¡°How does it look for her?¡± What I feared the most was that my outburst towards Juan Carlos would have a negative impact on Brigit¡¯s chances of becoming a warden. Though she didn¡¯t say it much, I knew the prospect of belonging somewhere appealed to her. I would hate myself if I¡¯d jeopardized her future in any way.

    Sig pushed himself off the wall, stepping close and wrapping one arm around my shoulders, tugging me tight against his side. ¡°Who can know what they will decide?¡± He smiled, rubbing my arm in a friendly, comforting gesture. From Mercedes or Brigit I would have liked it. Coming from Sig, it felt wrong.

    ¡°But¡ª¡±

    ¡°She¡¯ll do fine.¡± There was a finality in the way he said it that made me believe him.

    He placed a hand below my shoulder blades and nudged me forward. A man of less substantial height might have grazed my lower back, but somehow Sig¡¯s touch felt just as intimate, his fingers brushing the exposed skin on my back right above where the dress began.

    ¡°I want to show you something,¡± he said, pushing me past the doors. I found myself going without much hesitation. He could soothe anyone simply by being near them, and skin-to-skin contact seemed to enhance his special gift.

    ¡°What about Brigit?¡± A dreamy rasp had snuck into my voice, and I found it faintly embarrassing. It was the voice that should only be heard by a lover in the final moments between passionate lovemaking and the time when sleep sets in. It was not a voice for dark stone hallways.

    And it definitely wasn¡¯t a voice I meant for Sig to hear.

    I cleared my throat and tried again. ¡°I can¡¯t leave Brigit.¡±

    He smiled, but the gesture did nothing to mask the coolness in his eyes that gave me a chill. ¡°You can and you will.¡± Then¡ªas quick as it had come¡ªthe cold stare was gone, and he was charming, jovial Sig once again. ¡°They¡¯ll be speaking to her for some time. We aren¡¯t going far.¡±

    ¡°Where are we going?¡±

    By way of response, he nudged me forward. I guess we were done talking.

    For a long time I¡¯d thought the Tribunal chambers were the lowest level of the headquarters, deeper underground than even the subway stations. When I was elevated to my Tribunal seat, I was given the full tour and discovered the building had an unused sub-level deeper yet.

    Where Sig took me was lower still, so deep I expected to run into mole people any minute. Or Gollum from Lord of the Rings. There was no light save for one torch that flickered low. Not enough oxygen down this far to ignite it properly.

    ¡°Are we tunneling to Jersey?¡± I teased.

    ¡°Not quite.¡±

    We stopped in front of a door half as tall as I was, further solidifying my opinion that I¡¯d stumbled into something straight out of the recesses of J.R.R. Tolkien¡¯s mind. A heavy silver padlock was affixed to a heavy silver loop, keeping whatever was inside from getting out, and the whole wooden frame gave off a faint shimmering blue glow.

    I turned from the door to look at Sig. ¡°What¡¯s this about?¡±

    ¡°This door can be opened by three people. One of them is dead. Given Juan Carlos¡¯s behavior tonight, I thought it best we make it three again.¡± He cocked his head to the side, his eyes narrowing as he waited for me to understand what he was saying.

    I understood it all too well. ¡°Who is it?¡±

    ¡°I think you know.¡±

    Fear swelled in my chest. The only reason someone would be held this far below ground, behind such security forces, was if they were bound. I¡¯d wondered once what it meant for a vampire to be bound, why it was considered a punishment worse than death. But now that I was standing outside the door, I didn¡¯t feel so curious anymore. ¡°Say it.¡±

    ¡°I can do better than that.¡± He pressed his palm flat against the wood, and the door unleashed a hissing noise not unlike the sound of wet wood in a fire. The blue shimmer faded away, making the door look remarkably plain once it was gone.

    The moment the light faded my stomach sank. I didn¡¯t want to see behind the door. Curiosity may have killed the cat, but I¡¯m sure it didn¡¯t do anything spectacular for vampires either. Being here, I no longer needed an answer to the questions that had once plagued my mind.

    I put my hand on Sig¡¯s arm to stop him, but it was too late. Once the glow abated, the silver lock vanished and the door opened on its own with a soft pop. I stepped back and stared at it, my fingers falling away from Sig.

    ¡°Just like that?¡±

    ¡°It would not open so easily for any but us. Before we are done here, it will do the same for you.¡±

    ¡°I don¡¯t want to be able to open it.¡±

    ¡°Oh, no?¡±

    I shook my head and stepped back again, far enough I hit the wall opposite the door and was pushed to my physical limit for the second time that night. ¡°I don¡¯t want anyone to be able to open it.¡±

    A renewed ache in my shoulder bloomed like a toxic flower from my clavicle up to my jaw. This wasn¡¯t from the silver bullet, though. It wasn¡¯t even on the same side. This pain was old and healed, but a vampire had once ripped out my throat, and a muscle memory of that sort of torture remains forever.

    ¡°Go in, Secret. He won¡¯t bite.¡± Sig smiled his vicious smile, seeming to read my mind. It didn¡¯t take telepathy to know what had me on edge though.

    ¡°I¡ª¡±

    He grabbed my wrist, not in a gentle way but not as tightly as he could, and stared me hard in the eyes. ¡°I am not in a mood to argue about fears. I won¡¯t debate with you about this. You will go, and that is final. Do you understand me?¡±

    ¡°Perfectly.¡± I wrenched my arm free but didn¡¯t look away, steeling my own gaze to match his. ¡°But understand this¡­I won¡¯t be tricked by you anymore. You could have told me before now what you meant to show me.¡±

    ¡°And would you have come?¡±

    ¡°You¡¯ve made it clear my choices within these walls are not my own, Sig. Don¡¯t pretend like what I do or don¡¯t want was ever a deciding factor. You wanted me to come. I would have come.¡±

    Sig nodded towards the door. ¡°Then show me the truth of your words.¡±

    This was a test, and I saw that all too clearly. I just didn¡¯t know if it was a test I cared to pass. Regardless of my misgivings, I put my hand against the door and stepped inside. The room was small and so cramped I had to stoop to get under the doorframe. The same blue glow that had covered the door was all over the room, giving the space an eerie nighttime ambiance. A few feet from me, wrapped in silver chains, was a creature so gaunt and repulsive it looked dead.

    Until he opened his eyes. The hate burning inside those eyes was so alive it felt like ants crawling all over my skin. I wanted to wipe the feeling away, but I crouched low and stared back, letting my own hatred fuel my limited bravery.

    ¡°You,¡± he growled.

    ¡°Hello, Alexandre,¡± I said to the vampire who had once been the thing I feared most in the world. ¡°Miss me?¡±

    Chapter Ten

    Alexandre Peyton was nothing at all like I remembered him.

    The vampire I¡¯d been so deathly afraid of¡ªthe one responsible for almost ending my life not once but twice¡ªwas now a mere shell of his former self. The last time I saw him had been a year earlier, and then he¡¯d looked young, no more than seventeen or eighteen. He¡¯d had copper-red hair and a wicked, teasing grin. There had once been a handsomeness to him, one that became easy to overlook when I¡¯d found out what a sadist he was.

    Now he was a ghost. Not in the literal sense, of course, because ghosts couldn¡¯t speak since they had no lungs. He was a kind of living ghost, a husk of a man. His skin was dry and brittle like Japanese paper and had an unhealthy gray tone to it, making him seem closer to dead than any vampire I¡¯d ever seen.

    His lips were chapped and cracked, and dry blood¡ªhis own¡ªhad turned his chin into a gross canvas of gray and blackened red. His once penny-bright hair was crusty and looked crisp enough to crumble if I were to touch it. I had no desire to touch it. I didn¡¯t plan on stepping any closer.

 Page 9

    He smiled, an unfortunate gesture that caused his already broken lips to split further. I grimaced. His gums had shrunk and pulled back, making his teeth look longer and more animal than ever before. His single fang¡ªthe other had been permanently lost in a fight with me¡ªwas yellowed like that of an ancient skull.

    Peyton shifted, his bones grinding against each other. The padding between his joints must have been worn down to dust. He was, in effect, the living dead, and not in the way most vampires were. He was a walking, talking corpse.

    That realization was all it took for the remnants of fear clinging to me to fall away. He was pathetic, and I didn¡¯t fear the pathetic.

    ¡°I see they¡¯ve been keeping you comfortable.¡±

    ¡°I see¡­¡± There was a rattle in his voice, his throat too dry and raspy to make more than a few words at a time. ¡°I see¡­you¡­are much¡­changed.¡±

    The Tribunal mantle came with a big level up in vampire power. Vamps could sense each other¡¯s levels as easily as humans could register age by looking at someone. In that sense, I had some pretty impressive power wrinkles since I was now the big, bad boss.

    ¡°So it seems.¡±

    ¡°Tell me¡­cherie¡­do you¡­think of me¡­often?¡± The wicked glint in his solid-black eyes was unnerving, but I did my best not to slip backwards into my fear.

    ¡°I try not to think of inconsequential things anymore,¡± I lied.

    ¡°Do you¡­know¡­what I will¡­do? When¡­I am free?¡±

    I rocked back on my heels, my calves aching from being kept in a low squat to stare at him. ¡°What? Go to the salon? You¡¯re in dire need of some deep conditioning.¡± I sniffed dramatically. ¡°And a bath.¡±

    He smiled, and a clear liquid oozed from the cracks in his lips that he made no attempt to lick away. ¡°I will¡­make you¡­pay.¡±

    Any warmth I¡¯d begun to feel was gone. The glittery blue light felt cold, and in spite of the open door behind me and Sig so close, I felt alone and uneasy. Peyton couldn¡¯t hurt me, and he would never be free. But something in the promise of his words made me frightened of him in spite of how illogical it was.

    That¡¯s the beauty of fear, it does not yield to reason.

    ¡°You¡¯ve tried to kill me twice before.¡± Lowering closer to the ground, I braced my palms against the floor and inched my way towards him, looking much more like a wolf in that moment than the vampire I was meant to be. ¡°You failed. You will fail again. But let¡¯s be clear, here, Peyton¡­you will never get out of here. Not while I¡¯m still living.¡±

    He tried to grin at this, but moving his mouth so much in such a short time must have been uncomfortable. His lips were stuck against his teeth, letting me see his one yellowed fang. I grinned back so he got a good long look at my own fangs, both white and untouched. When I was close enough, I placed my hands on his cheeks and pulled his face towards mine. Peyton struggled and gnashed at me, but for once I knew he was no match for me physically.

    ¡°I will¡­¡±

    I snarled when he took a pause, and the glint in his eyes faded. ¡°You will do nothing. You¡¯ll fester and rot here. Starving until you are just a bag of dry skin holding a pile of bones. You¡¯ll never drink from anyone again.¡± I dropped one hand and cupped his face with the other, squeezing until his mouth was forced open. The stare I gave him then was loaded with threats. ¡°Maybe I should neuter you now.¡±

    His tooth was dry and coated with a layer of what felt like dust. I didn¡¯t want to think about what it really was when I gave the elongated canine a wiggle. ¡°Looking a little long in the tooth,¡± I teased, my voice bitter. He tried to clamp his jaws shut and bite me in the process, but the grip I had on his chin made it impossible. My fingers tensed on the fang.

    ¡°That¡¯s enough,¡± Sig interrupted. His presence in the room caused the blue glow to shrink back into the darker recesses. Was there anything he couldn¡¯t scare? ¡°Secret, visiting hours are over now. You can come back and play with Monsieur Peyton some other time.¡± The French pronunciation spoken with Sig¡¯s Scandinavian inflection sounded alien but somehow more beautiful.

    I couldn¡¯t let go. I¡¯d never had the upper hand with Peyton before and I wasn¡¯t willing to give it up on command.

    ¡°Secret,¡± Sig warned. He didn¡¯t need to say more than my name. I understood the implication loud and clear. I couldn¡¯t kill Peyton, and I couldn¡¯t enact any kind of punishment on him without the express permission of my fellow Tribunal leaders. Sig might let me, knowing my history with the Cajun maniac, but Juan Carlos would point out that Peyton¡¯s punishment was already worse than death.

    Maybe he was right.

    I released Peyton¡¯s chin, and he wiggled his jaw.

    ¡°I hope you like it here,¡± I told him. ¡°Because you¡¯re never, ever getting out.¡±

    ¡°We¡­will¡­see.¡±

    When I passed Sig on the way out of the hovel, I didn¡¯t miss the fearsome look he fixed on Peyton. Sig would make sure Peyton never got out, I felt certain of that. As much as Sig often terrified me, he was a just leader, and it mattered to him whether I lived or died. This was one evil he could protect me from.

    Outside, with the door closed behind us, I couldn¡¯t shake the uneasy feeling that had begun brewing since we¡¯d first arrived. ¡°Why would you bring me here?¡±

    ¡°I thought it would be good for you to see him like this.¡±

    I shook my head. ¡°No.¡± Turning to him so we stood only inches apart in the small hallway, I stared into his pale blue eyes. ¡°Some skeletons are left in the closet for a reason, you know?¡±

    Sig smiled and took one of my hands, pressing my fingers to his lips as if he meant to kiss them. His soft mouth grazed the sensitive whorls of my fingerprints, but it was too late for me to pull back when he bit into me.

    ¡°Ouch,¡± I exclaimed, trying to jerk my hand away when sharp pain exploded in my pointer finger. ¡°What the hell?¡±

    ¡°Touch the door,¡± he instructed, releasing me. ¡°Touch it and you may keep your skeleton locked up as long as you like.¡±

    I did as he told me, pressing my bloodied digit against the rough wood. The blue light engulfed the brown surface with a gasping whoosh, and the silver lock re-materialized.

    ¡°Wow.¡± Staggering back as the tingle of magic crawled over my skin, I inched as far from the door as I could without seeming to be afraid of it.

    Sig came to stand beside me and placed an arm around my shoulder, giving me a friendly squeeze, only he was compressing my gunshot injury. Involuntarily, I yelped.

    ¡°What on Earth?¡± He gave me a quizzical look then his gaze trailed down to the small shiny circle of skin beside my clavicle. Eventually the scar would mostly disappear, leaving only a white mark instead of the current pink, but I couldn¡¯t hide it from him now. He knew all too well what would leave a mark like that. ¡°Silver?¡±

    ¡°You bet.¡±

    ¡°Who?¡±

    A sad smile crept across my face. ¡°I guess Peyton isn¡¯t the only one who wants me dead.¡±

    Chapter Eleven

    A howl shredded the peaceful silence of the night, jarring my already rattled nerves. The full moon glimmered between the fingers of the forest trees whose spring foliage had begun to fill in. Instead of leaves, the limbs were covered with kelly-green buds, eager to open. Beyond the tree edge, the wide, sprawling field of Central Park¡¯s Great Lawn invited me to step out of the woods and into the free expanse before me.

    I inched forward, then stumbled. My feet had become entangled in the heavy skirt of the white wedding dress I was wearing. Layers of white tulle clasped at me like expensive shackles, and only sheer luck kept me from falling to the ground.

    Deja vu.

    Another howl, and another. A chorus of wolves sang into the night, and their song drew ever closer. They didn¡¯t sound like they were coming to say hello, either. They sounded hungry.

    I hiked up my dress and ran, further challenged by the spindly stiletto sandals I was wearing. I loved sky-high heels as much as any good New York City girl, but I was cursing the name of Manolo Blahnik as I tried to jump over low-lying branches while wearing them.

    By the time I was out of the woods my hair was a tangled mess hanging in my face. I brushed the wayward strands back and felt something on my head I hadn¡¯t noticed before. Wrenching the metallic object free of my curls, I pulled it from my hair and got a look at what it was.

    A crown. Not a bridal tiara, but an actual crown made of gold branches that looked so realistic I wondered if someone hadn¡¯t dipped willow in gold leaf to make it. In the knots of the branches were emeralds the size of my thumbnail and so many diamonds the damn thing lit up like the Fourth of July even in the bare light of the moon.

    The moon.

    The howling began anew, and I remembered what had set me running in the first place. I held my crown tight to my chest and began to sprint. Now that I was in the open I could see I wasn¡¯t alone in the field. A few hundred meters away was a man wearing a beautifully tailored tuxedo. His hands were in his pockets and his smile was apparent even this far away.

    Lucas.

    You know this. This isn¡¯t new. You know this, my mind told me. But all I could think about was escaping the hungry pack that was hot on my heels. The only thing on my mind was getting to Lucas before they got to me.

    I held my dress up the best I could without losing the crown and hauled ass across the field. I ran on the balls of my feet so the heels wouldn¡¯t trip me up, but when I was a few feet from him, something brought me crashing to the ground anyway.

    ¡°Fuck,¡± I cried. The proximity of the howls was much closer now. In my fevered imagination I could hear the click of sharp canine teeth and almost feel the panting mouths of the wolves looming over me.

    I tugged my dress free of whatever had brought me down, and the white fabric came away a deep crimson red. The more layers I pulled back of the endless gown, the bloodier they became, glistening wetly in the moonlight. A memory I couldn¡¯t quite grasp made me check my hands, assuming the blood must be my own.

 Page 10

    My hands were stained with the blood from my wedding dress, but they were uninjured.

    ¡°Lucas¡­I¡­¡± Looking over my bare shoulder to seek out the aid of my fianc¨¦, I found him standing behind me staring at the bloody mess covering my lower body. Revulsion was evident in his expression.

    ¡°What have you done?¡± he asked.

    ¡°N-nothing,¡± I stammered, feeling stupid. ¡°I fell.¡±

    ¡°What have you done?¡± he repeated.

    I continued pulling the infinite dress back, and when it finally jerked free, I wished I had left the mystery alone. The grass was black with the thick smear of blood, and my whole skirt was now ruby red and soaked with the viscous liquid. When I gagged, though, it wasn¡¯t because of the blood.

    Desmond lay beneath me, his throat open in a ragged tear, his once-white shirt now as vermillion as my gown. His violet-gray eyes, something I loved most about him, were white and dead. His skin, once dark olive thanks to his father¡¯s Mexican roots, was ashy and looked like wax.

    The hole in his neck smiled at me like a second mouth.

    I tried to scramble away, but Lucas¡¯s legs kept me pinned in place.

    ¡°Oh my God.¡± Pink tears streaked down my face. I fought the urge to throw myself on Desmond, to find a pulse. The second urge was to open my wrist and give him my own blood. Vampire blood could heal, maybe there was¡­

    No. It could heal, but it couldn¡¯t bring someone back if they were already dead.

    I sobbed.

    ¡°No.¡±

    ¡°What have you done?¡± Lucas was staring down at me, asking the same goddamned question over and over.

    ¡°I didn¡¯t¡ª¡±

    ¡°What have you¡ª?¡±

    ¡°Shut up,¡± I screamed, covering my ears to block out the broken record of questioning. What had I done? Nothing. I hadn¡¯t done this. I would never do this.

    The crown I was still clinging to gave a tug. When I opened my eyes, I found Lucas trying to wrench it from my grasp. ¡°What are you doing?¡±

    ¡°This doesn¡¯t belong to you.¡± Tug.

    ¡°It¡¯s mine,¡± I snarled, my fingers tightening so fiercely the edge of a diamond bit into my palm. I¡¯d lost Desmond. Somehow I felt if I let Lucas have this too, I¡¯d be left with nothing.

    He stooped low, his blue eyes empty of any emotion, and with one mighty yank he wrenched the crown out of my hand. ¡°It¡¯s not yours anymore.¡±

    I woke up with a sharp gasp.

    Beneath my cheek was a soft mass of dark chest hair and below that the warm body of a still-breathing man. Strong fingers brushed my hair away from my forehead and trailed down my neck to my lower back, tracing the place where my torso dipped into my bottom.

    ¡°You¡¯re okay,¡± Desmond whispered, soothing me.

    ¡°You¡¯re okay.¡± I turned so I was looking up at his face instead of his groin. Not that his lower half didn¡¯t deserve a good long look over, but it wasn¡¯t my priority at the moment. I smiled in spite of how puzzled he appeared to be, and told myself again, ¡°You¡¯re okay.¡±

    ¡°Unless sleeping has become an extreme sport, I don¡¯t think there¡¯s much risk to my personal safety when we¡¯re in bed.¡± He grinned wickedly, and his hand moved lower to give my butt a squeeze. ¡°That is, unless you get too frisky. Then you can imperil me whenever you want.¡±

    I looped my arms around his waist and squeezed him, letting the warmth of his body bring my temperature up. When I slept I got cold, not freezing, but I didn¡¯t give off the nice radiance of a human being. I was closer to room temperature, like all vampires.

    ¡°You had another dream,¡± he said, clearly reading my expression better than I would have liked. I didn¡¯t need to be giving my emotions away as freely as I seemed to be doing of late.

    ¡°Yeah.¡±

    ¡°Judging by your reaction, it didn¡¯t end too well for me.¡±

    I kissed the trail of hair above his bellybutton as I cast my gaze up to watch him inhale sharply. ¡°It doesn¡¯t matter,¡± I whispered. ¡°It was just a dream.¡±

    But the fact of the matter was, my dreams were never just dreams. And what was worse, I¡¯d had this particular dream before. My sleeping mind had tried to remind me of that, but I¡¯d been too caught up in the moment to recognize it. When I¡¯d first met Lucas a year earlier, I¡¯d dreamt of running towards him in a wedding dress, only then he¡¯d vanished to be replaced by Peyton. Days later, Peyton had almost killed me.

    Now I was dreaming about Desmond¡¯s death, and there was no way in hell I was letting that part of my dream come true.

    ¡°Are you sure you¡¯re okay?¡±

    I didn¡¯t feel like talking about it anymore, so I straddled his waist, rocking my pelvis against his. Dipping my head down to take his nipple in my mouth, I gave it a teasing bite. ¡°I will be.¡±

    Desmond groaned as I reached between us and wrapped my fingers around his hard shaft. ¡°Looks like you woke up ready,¡± I teased, rubbing the head of his cock against my opening. Nightmares weren¡¯t the best way to put me in the mood, but the thickness of him so close to me was always enough to make me crazy.

    His fingers snaked into my hair, and he pulled my head down, meeting my mouth with his for a feverish, needy kiss. I traced his lips with my tongue, feeding on him, each kiss deeper and more desperate than the last. I wanted to feel him in every part of me, wanted his warmth to smother me. I guided him inside me, and he thrust up while my hand was still around him, the friction doubling as he moved his hips.

    I gasped and released him, bracing both my hands on his chest as I found his frenetic rhythm. I leaned back, and his wide palms cupped my breasts, rough fingertips circling each peaked nipple until they were almost painfully rigid. He sat up, lowering his hands to my hips and squeezing almost painfully tight as I rode him, lifting me and dropping me down on his hardness. Each new thrust treaded the line between pleasure and pain, and left me panting.

    When his mouth latched on to my already sensitive nipple, I cried out, my fingernails digging into the smooth, hot skin of his back. He bit down the same way I had done to him moments earlier. I continued to make animalistic noises while he dug his fingers into my hips and slammed me down on his shaft.

    His own breath came in short pants, his face pressed against mine with his ear beside my mouth. Every time I cried out he thrust harder, feeding off my pleasure until we were both slick with sweat and my throat was raspy from uttering inane commands like, ¡°More, harder, faster, yes.¡± He obliged every request until at last I screamed and he grunted our mutual release.

    Desmond¡¯s face was between my breasts, his hands still locked on my hips as we gasped together for air.

    ¡°Good morning,¡± he whispered into my skin, chuckling slightly since it was six in the evening.

    I threaded my fingers through his black hair before lowering them over his shoulders and tracing the hot, damp planes of his back. ¡°You sure know how to chase a bad dream away.¡±

    He licked my nipple, and I shuddered. My whole body felt like it was charged with electric energy and every touch was a shock. Desmond smiled, clearly pleased by the reaction he got from me. ¡°Anytime, baby. Anytime.¡±

    I held him close until the last traces of the nightmare were gone.

    Then I let him chase them off again in the shower for twenty minutes, just to be sure.

    Chapter Twelve

    I¡¯d once believed my bathroom was the pinkest place on Earth.

    Sitting in the waiting area of Kleinfeld Bridal, I realized how wrong my assessment had been. The whole place was plush, posh and insanely girly. Too girly. If I didn¡¯t still have the taste of lime in my mouth from my passionate wake-up call with Desmond, I thought I might taste bubble gum and cotton candy in the air.

    ¡°Hi, hi, hi,¡± Mercedes said, her breath hurried as she came into the room with Kellen behind her and plopped down on the couch beside me, kissing me on the cheek. ¡°So sorry we¡¯re late. There was an accident on Lexington, and we had a hell of a time getting out of the city.¡±

    ¡°Why didn¡¯t we just go to a place in the city?¡± Brigit asked. She¡¯d come with me and was a bundle of nerves since her meeting with the council the previous evening. They hadn¡¯t made a decision yet, and I expected she would be on edge until they did. And I understood vampires well enough to know they wouldn¡¯t be in any special hurry to reach a conclusion.

    ¡°Because if you have money and you¡¯re getting married in New York, this is where you come for your dress,¡± Kellen replied matter-of-factly.

    She was right. I didn¡¯t care much for planning weddings or any of this crap, but even I knew if you wanted a good dress, you came to Kleinfeld. As luck had it, between my Tribunal income and my billionaire fianc¨¦, I was in a unique position to afford whatever dress I wanted. Kimberly hadn¡¯t even bothered to make appointments at other stores. This was our one-stop dress shop. I was going to find my dress here or I wouldn¡¯t find it at all.

    There was the added pressure that I had to find said dress soon because my wedding was in two weeks. I was asking for a miracle, but the great thing about an unlimited budget was it had a habit of making miracles happen.

    With my bridal party nestled around me, we had one more person we were waiting for. Kimberly, her dark hair in a pristine bun, wearing pearls with her lilac twin set and khaki pencil skirt, walked into the waiting room laughing with the middle-aged woman at her side.

    ¡°Girls.¡± Kimberly clapped loudly to get our attention and showed off her too-white teeth like a shark might before it ate you. ¡°Are we ready to have some fun?¡±

    The girls in question all grumbled their excitement. It made me want to giggle. Poor Kimberly was probably used to women tripping over themselves to get at the dresses and parade around like satin-covered Barbie dolls. Instead she got me and my equally thrilled gaggle of bridesmaids¡ªa cop, a vampire and a been-there-done-that socialite.

    Unwilling to have the cheer beaten out of her, my wedding planner smiled wider and held out a hand to shift our attention to the woman next to her, who was wearing black from head to toe and an expression that was friendly but clearly meant business.

 Page 11

    I suspected Kimberly had used the magic words¡ªspare no expense.

    ¡°This is Olivia. She¡¯ll be our consultant for the evening and has assured me we can take all the time we need.¡± On a typical day, Kleinfeld ran on an almost military schedule with appointments, trying to get brides in and out at a rapid-fire pace so they could make as many sales as possible in as short a window as possible. To throw appointment time into the wind meant Olivia and her managers believed my single purchase would make it worthwhile.

    I wasn¡¯t used to being the center of such focused attention. Olivia was counting on me to make her commission. I guess I¡¯d better step up and be a good little bride. Once I had a dress, I could get the hell out of here, and that would be worth whatever cost was on the tag.

    ¡°All righty,¡± I said with a smile, pushing myself off the squishy loveseat. ¡°Let¡¯s get started.¡±

    Kimberly and Olivia left Kellen, Brigit and Mercedes in a waiting area. In this part of the salon the pinkness of the waiting room vanished, replaced by white, white and more white. I¡¯d never seen so much colorlessness in my life. Once I was seated in a closet-sized dressing room with Olivia and Kimberly, the barrage of questions began. Cut, color¡ªapparently a dozen different kinds of white existed, from linen to ivory to gold to frigging virgin snow. I thought back to my nightmare, recalling all the layers of tulle and princessy poof, and described the exact opposite. I wanted slim and elegant.

    ¡°If I see poof, I won¡¯t even try it on,¡± I warned Olivia.

    ¡°Of course.¡± Olivia nodded sagely, making notes on her clipboard. ¡°I¡¯d never dream of putting you in a big dress. You¡¯re such a petite thing.¡±

    Kimberly put in her two cents, obviously having a specific vision of my wedding. The words regal and sophisticated got used a lot, making me wonder how Lucas had spun this wedding to her. ¡°I want her to look like a queen,¡± she concluded.

    ¡°She will be unforgettable,¡± Olivia promised.

    Fifteen minutes later a half dozen plastic bags hung in the room. The dresses trapped inside made me think of full body bags in a morgue. That thought was followed shortly by, What the hell is wrong with me?

    The first dress I tried on was a shade Olivia called blush, but I was nobody¡¯s fool. It was pink and had a giant flower below my bustline. I gave Olivia an are you kidding me look, but she ignored me and presented me to Kimberly for inspection. The wedding planner regarded me with careful hesitation. She obviously didn¡¯t want to give her opinion until she had assessed mine.

    I glowered.

    ¡°Well¡­um¡­it¡¯s nice.¡±

    ¡°Let¡¯s go show the girls!¡± Olivia suggested, excitement overwhelming her.

    I knew why. I¡¯d spotted the price tag before she¡¯d draped the rosy monstrosity over my head, and this cupcake topper of a dress was valued at a staggering twenty-five thousand dollars. I would pay that much to never look at it again.

    I was paraded in front of the girls. Brigit loved it, to no one¡¯s surprise, and Mercedes did her best to cover her laughter with a cough, but she coughed so much Olivia sent a subordinate to get Cedes some water, which made Kellen start sniggering.

    I sighed and smiled at Olivia. ¡°Let¡¯s try something else.¡±

    Three dresses later I was developing a lace rash and running out of patience. How could any bride in her right mind look forwards to this part of the experience? Even without the extra skirts and bustles, the dresses were heavy and cumbersome, the boning of each bodice threatened to cut off my breath, and all the white was making me feel more than a little guilty about the super-hot sex I¡¯d had before I got here.

    My impatience was starting to show. Every time Olivia brought a new dress to replace one I¡¯d rejected, I would groan. To keep my girls from staging a revolt, someone had brought them a full bottle of Mo?t and a plate of finger sandwiches. I¡¯m sure it was going to be added to my final costs, but I didn¡¯t care as long as they were enjoying themselves.

    Judging by the bubbling laughter that erupted every time I came out in a new dress, they were having way more fun than I was.

    ¡°I¡¯m not good at this,¡± I complained to Kimberly when Olivia ducked out. ¡°I¡¯m not the kind of girl who feels her wedding is the best day of her life. I don¡¯t care about this stuff.¡± I pointed to the wall of silk, satin and the godforsaken tulle.

    Ignoring my uncharacteristic outburst of honesty, Kimberly smiled at me and patted my arm with a forced sisterly compassion. ¡°It will be worth it when you see the look on Lucas¡¯s face the first time he sees you.¡±

    I tried to imagine the moment, but all I could bring to mind was Lucas¡¯s cold eyes staring at Desmond¡¯s dead body while he asked me, ¡°What have you done?¡±

    ¡°I guess.¡±

    Olivia returned a moment later, and soon I was trussed up again, itchy lace draped over my shoulder and my back exposed. The dress was pretty, but I wish someone had warned me how heavy lace was.

    Trudging out, I stepped onto the platform in front of about ten thousand mirrors so the girls could get a look at what fifty-seven pounds of Venetian lace did for my five-foot-four frame. I turned so they could see the bare back.

    Which was how I saw the gun.

    The figure dressed all in black wouldn¡¯t have stood out thanks to the uniform of all Kleinfeld employees, but the ski mask was a little out of the ordinary. As was the raised Beretta in the attacker¡¯s gloved hand. There was a flash of light, followed by a muffled pop from the silencer. Without thinking, I dove for the most vulnerable person in range.

    Olivia and I tumbled to the floor as the mirror exploded into a million pieces and Kimberly began to scream. Kellen joined in the chorus, obviously still scarred by the memory of what had happened on the highway earlier in the week. I, too, remembered that night as the pain in my shoulder responded to the sound of gunfire.

    Mercedes¡ªbless her police officer blood¡ªhad withdrawn a gun from an ankle holster and was ducked behind the loveseat with Brigit next to her. I rolled off Olivia and instructed her to stay the hell down. She was crying so hard I didn¡¯t know if she heard me, but I hoped her common sense would give her the same instruction.

    ¡°Cedes,¡± I whispered loud enough for her to hear me as I hunkered down behind a mannequin. ¡°I need my purse.¡±

    She didn¡¯t question me, just grabbed the large leather satchel and hurled it in my direction. With my beloved SIG 9mm in my hands, I immediately felt safer. With a bullet loaded in the chamber, the whole situation was less uncertain and foggy.

    The salon was almost empty thanks to our late-evening appointment, but there were still quivering, whimpering masses of bridal white pressed to the floor and crying black-clad employees hiding in recessed closets, their hands covering their heads. I saw a young woman in a wedding dress get to her feet, and before I could shout out a warning she made a dash for the waiting room.

    ¡°Fuck, fuck, fuck,¡± I cursed as I rolled from my hiding place. The gunman was here for me, not these people, and I¡¯d be damned if anyone died here tonight because of me. The women in the salon were here to prepare for the best day of their lives, and instead they were caught in a living nightmare.

    This was what I did to people.

    I wrestled with the skirt of my lace dress and jumped over the sofa, using the arm to propel myself higher, grateful for my bare feet. Another shot rang out an instant before I collided with the girl. We tumbled down in a mass of white fabric, and she screamed the way people can only if they¡¯ve been shot¡ªa high, keening wail.

    I pushed off her and saw the tiniest bit of skin sheared from her arm, just above the elbow. If I hadn¡¯t pushed her when I did, it would have hit her dead center in the chest. The gunman wasn¡¯t aiming for flesh wounds.

    ¡°Shhh, shh, shush,¡± I whispered, trying to be soothing when I was really impatient with her wailing. ¡°It¡¯s a graze. You¡¯ll be fine, you¡¯ll be fine.¡± She continued to scream, and it got worse when she saw the gun in my hand.

    Heavy boot steps moved behind the wall. The woman and I were hidden only by a decorative divider where dresses were hung on display. I wrenched a veil off a mannequin nearby and wrapped the delicate fabric around her bloody arm. The front of her dress was splattered red, and the spray from her wound had left my own lace gown soiled with smears of blood. With the veil in place, I squeezed her hand and lied to her face. ¡°I¡¯m a cop,¡± I told her, and the screaming stopped almost instantly. ¡°And you¡¯re going to be fine.¡±

    She nodded, still whimpering like an injured puppy.

    ¡°Put pressure on this.¡± I squeezed her arm gently. She winced but did as she was told. I stood, and she grasped at my free hand.

    ¡°Don¡¯t go.¡±

    ¡°I have to.¡±

    Pulling away, I moved to round the corner when another shot went off, but this one had no silencer and came from behind me. Mercedes had her elbows braced on the edge of the white loveseat and her backup revolver aimed at me.

    But not at me, at the space six inches to my left where my would-be assailant cried out in pain and was calling her a stupid bitch as he dove for cover behind the dividing wall with one hand cupping his injured arm. I skirted the wall after him, my gun raised and ready, but when I got to the other side, there was nothing but a streak of blood on the ivory carpet. A thump and a wail called my attention back to the main room, and I followed spots of blood to the commotion.

    The assassin, still wearing his ski mask, was holding one of the younger salesgirls in a chokehold with his gun nestled in her auburn hair. She clawed at his arm, black rivers of mascara staining her cheeks as she stared at me with a pleading urgency.

    ¡°Let the girl go,¡± I said, my own weapon trained on the sliver of ski mask visible from behind his hostage¡¯s head.

    ¡°I don¡¯t want her. I came for you.¡±

    Dozens of gazes focused on me with new interest. I was the reason they were in this horror show, and now they all knew it.

    ¡°Too bad she¡¯s not alone,¡± Mercedes said, her gun leveled at him from the side, where she could easily get a shot through his skull and still avoid hitting the girl. ¡°NYPD, motherfucker, you have the goddamned right to remain silent.¡±

 Page 12

    Panic flashed in the gunman¡¯s eyes. He was caught and he knew it. There were two guns trained on him. No way in hell was he getting out of this with his job complete. He took the gun off the salesgirl and shoved her at me using brutal force. I caught the girl before she fell and held her as she cried into my shoulder, never letting my aim waver.

    Then, with a speed neither Mercedes nor I had anticipated, the failed assassin pressed his own weapon to the underside of his chin and pulled the trigger, raining a mist of pink, red and gray all over a display of haute couture gowns and the women hiding beneath them.

    Chapter Thirteen

    Two hours later I was the proud owner of not one but nine wedding dresses.

    The lace number I¡¯d been wearing, the ruined gown worn by the young bride, and the half-dozen monstrous-looking dresses that now had assassin brain smeared on them. Plus one simple, elegant, tulle-and-blood-free gown with a strapless bodice and subtle beading that happened to be the right size for me.

    Police connections and a hundred and fifty thousand dollar payout went a long way to getting forgiveness for a bloodbath at a bridal salon.

    I was sitting in the passenger seat of Detective Tyler Nowakowski¡¯s black Nissan SUV, still wearing the bloodstained lace wedding dress. Police lights flashed in front of the boutique, and uniformed officers were gathered together collecting witness statements while others kept the goggling eyes of locals and tourists from taking photos as the ambulance took the injured bride away and the coroner did the same with the assassin.

    Tyler was talking to Mercedes, and they both kept turning to look at me as they spoke. Neither of them appeared particularly happy. Cedes was going to have to file paperwork and give a statement to Internal Affairs to justify shooting the dead man before he could shoot me, but every witness statement agreed he had been the one to kill himself.

    Officially, we were calling it a kidnapping attempt gone wrong. As the bride-to-be of a world-famous billionaire, I was a target for those looking to make a quick buck on my ransom, and this guy hadn¡¯t expected half the bridal party to be armed. As a licensed P.I., I was allowed to carry a weapon, so no one would question the SIG. It was registered and everything.

    In the end, it would be a pain in the ass of paperwork and press, but none of us were going to get in trouble. I¡¯d have liked to bypass the whole thing and call my wardens in to adjust everyone¡¯s memory and make the whole situation disappear, but the shop manager had hidden in the office and called the cops the second the first shot was fired.

    Smart woman, but her quick action meant the police showed up well before I could set a cover-up into motion.

    Tyler patted Cedes on the shoulder, and she smiled at him. They¡¯d recently partnered up at the precinct, which was an obvious step for their careers given how often they ended up working on bizarre cases together. At least if they were united, they didn¡¯t have to pretend the paranormal shit wasn¡¯t real. Both of them were under my protection, belonging to me by vampire law. I didn¡¯t like being responsible for the safety of so many people, but I hadn¡¯t been willing to wipe their memories after a winter bloodbath a thousand times worse than this one.

    People had died, people they knew and cared about, and I couldn¡¯t bring myself to brainwash their experience into nonexistence. Which meant, according to council law, they were my problem now.

    The driver¡¯s door opened and Tyler got in, handing me a blue-and-white Greek-stylized paper cup full of lukewarm coffee. It even smelled bitter. I accepted it, cupping it in my cold hands, and stared at the scene on the street with detachment.

    ¡°You sure know how to find trouble,¡± he said, arching a thick black eyebrow at me.

    ¡°You¡¯re not the first person to tell me so, Detective.¡±

    ¡°Is this mess¡­¡± he pointed to the officers milling around on the sidewalk and the dozens of curious looky-loos, ¡°¡­vampire related?¡± The way he said vampire almost made me chuckle. He¡¯d known the truth for about two months and was still having trouble saying the word like it related to something real.

    ¡°No.¡±

    ¡°You¡¯re sure? Mercedes said the guy was an assassin gunning for you.¡±

    I nodded. ¡°He was. That¡¯s not the vampire M.O.¡±

    ¡°No?¡±

    ¡°No. If the vampires wanted me dead, I would just vanish. You¡¯d never know. If they were really cool about it, you might not remember ever knowing me.¡±

    Tyler looked away from the unfolding drama. ¡°They can do that?¡±

    ¡°We can do a lot of things.¡± I smiled sadly into my lukewarm coffee and took a sip of the dark, bitter liquid. ¡°You don¡¯t really want to know about this, Tyler.¡±

    ¡°I do.¡±

    ¡°Not now.¡±

    He frowned, wringing his hands on the steering wheel. ¡°You¡¯ve done your damnedest to give us the bare minimum, Secret, and I can only let it slide for so long. I see a guy get dismembered by something impervious to bullets, and then you make me say nothing when you let vampires set fire to the station.¡±

    ¡°I know.¡± I met his eyes, and our gazes held for a long moment. I¡¯d lied to Tyler in the past¡ªI was finished with that now. ¡°I need you to be patient.¡±

    ¡°I have been patient.¡±

    ¡°More patient. Saintly patient.¡±

    Tyler sighed and snatched the coffee out of my hand, taking a deep swallow, his Adam¡¯s apple bobbing. There was something refreshingly masculine about Tyler, like an old noir cop. I liked being around him now that he didn¡¯t spend his time growling at me and thinking I was up to no good.

    Now he knew I was up to no good, and he could like me again.

    He handed the coffee back, and I accepted it, sipping from what was left.

    ¡°Everything I tell you gets me in trouble,¡± I told him. ¡°Humans aren¡¯t supposed to know. That¡¯s the first and most important rule.¡±

    ¡°The first rule of Vamp Club is you don¡¯t talk about Vamp Club?¡±

    I howled with laughter, almost spewing coffee back into the cup. It was the first time I¡¯d laughed in a while, and it felt good. Freeing.

    ¡°Something like that.¡±

    ¡°But you¡¯ll give me something more than what you have?¡±

    ¡°Soon.¡±

    ¡°Okay.¡± He nodded, then looked over at me, his skin glowing green from the dashboard lights. ¡°You¡¯re going to make a beautiful bride.¡±

    The dress almost seemed to glow in the green lights.

    ¡°Let¡¯s just see if I can get to the altar in one piece first, shall we?¡±

    ¡°Deal.¡±

    The scene on the street outside Kleinfeld was reserved compared to the melee in Lucas¡¯s penthouse when I arrived a half hour later. Pack members milled around the main floor of the suite, going back and forth from the big staircase to the office. Some nodded acknowledgments, others moved along with their business like I weren¡¯t there.

    I¡¯d barely stepped out of the elevator when my mouth came alive with the bursting vibrancy of lime and Desmond¡¯s warm, muscular arms looped around me, pulling me into a tight embrace.

    ¡°I¡¯m so sorry. I should have been there.¡±

    ¡°You couldn¡¯t have known.¡±

    ¡°I shouldn¡¯t have let you out of my sight.¡±

    Desmond¡¯s official title in the pack, aside from being second-in-command, was as Queen¡¯s Guard. Until now we¡¯d ignored that part of his job description as a mere formality of the title, not a task he was required to perform. I was an assassin and a high-ranking member of the vampire council. I didn¡¯t often need protection above and beyond what I could provide for myself.

    Apparently things had changed.

    ¡°I¡¯m fine,¡± I told him.

    He held me away from him as if to assess the truth of my words by seeing me. For the first time since I¡¯d arrived he seemed to notice the lace wedding dress I was still wearing and looked momentarily stunned, as though the dress had dealt him a physical blow.

    ¡°You look¡ª¡±

    ¡°Bloody,¡± I suggested. ¡°But for once, none of it is mine.¡± I wanted him to smile at the joke, to laugh at my terrible habit of getting my clothes stained with blood. Instead he continued to stare at the stupid dress.

    I wrapped my arms around my waist as if I could hide the gown from him. ¡°Stop it.¡±

    ¡°Sorry,¡± he muttered, finally focusing on my face. ¡°I didn¡¯t¡­ I don¡¯t know what I expected to feel. When I saw this.¡±

    ¡°It¡¯s just a dress. A stupid dress that weighs a million pounds. It¡¯s nothing profound or mystical or meaningful. Stop looking at me like that. Please.¡±

    The sorrow in his eyes was almost too much to handle. ¡°I¡¯m sorry.¡±

    I bit my lip. ¡°It¡¯s just a dress,¡± I repeated. He nodded and pulled me in for another hug, this one less snug than the first.

    ¡°Lucas will want to see you.¡±

    I didn¡¯t want Desmond to let me go, but he did.

    Chapter Fourteen

    Lucas was in the wide-open living room on the third floor of the penthouse pacing the length of the floor-to-ceiling windows along the far wall. The second I entered the room he vaulted over the couch and had me away from Desmond¡¯s side and pulled into a dangerously tight hug.

    ¡°What happened?¡± he demanded.

    I recounted the story of the Kleinfeld bloodbath so everyone in the room could hear it. I didn¡¯t feel like reliving the details over and over again, so I wanted as many people to listen as I could. Morgan sat on the couch, expressionless, her arms crossed over her chest.

    When my story was finished, she was the first to speak. ¡°Sounds sloppy. Amateurish.¡±

    ¡°Sounds like someone has tried to kill me twice in a week in two places I¡¯m never found. I hardly think that¡¯s amateurish, Morgan. Sounds like someone is following me. Someone I haven¡¯t noticed.¡±

    ¡°Then you¡¯re not being very careful, are you?¡±

    Lucas must have felt me tense in preparation to attack her because he hugged me to him again and spoke to Morgan from over my head. ¡°Morgan, if you could be so kind, would you go to the store and get Secret a change of clothes, please?¡±

 Page 13

    ¡°Have Jackson do it,¡± she replied.

    ¡°I asked you to do it.¡±

    She sneered but didn¡¯t argue further. He let her get away with a lot, and it drove me nuts. Her bad attitude did nothing to make people respect his authority. But I guess it could be argued my antics had the same side effect.

    I breathed in the musky smell of his chest and sighed. ¡°She¡¯s right,¡± I admitted begrudgingly. ¡°I haven¡¯t been as careful as I should have been after the car thing.¡±

    ¡°This isn¡¯t your fault.¡±

    ¡°It¡¯s mine,¡± Desmond said. ¡°I¡¯ve given her too much freedom. I should have guarded her better.¡±

    From a chair beside the door, Dominick laughed. ¡°Don¡¯t kid yourself, Des. You¡¯d have more luck guarding a rattlesnake in a moon bounce. If she didn¡¯t want you to guard her, you wouldn¡¯t have much say in the matter.¡±

    I smiled at him, in spite of being compared to a pissed-off reptile. Dominick certainly had a way of phrasing an insult to make it sound almost complimentary.

    ¡°He¡¯s right,¡± Lucas added, ruffling my hair. ¡°I think we can all admit Secret is a bit stubborn when it comes to her personal protection.¡±

    Desmond looked relieved when he realized no one blamed him for not guarding my body as voraciously as he could have. I was stubborn. Probably too stubborn. But between pack restrictions and the laws of the Tribunal, I liked to hold on to the illusion of my freedom whenever I could.

    Tonight, that illusion had almost cost some innocent people their lives.

    Not to mention costing Lucas over a hundred grand in dress damages.

    ¡°Not anymore,¡± I said. ¡°I know I¡¯m a pain in the ass about these things, but I¡¯m also not an idiot. Someone wants me dead, and they obviously mean business about it. Until we can find them, I¡¯m not putting anyone else at risk because of me.¡±

    ¡°You won¡¯t have to,¡± Lucas said.

    ¡°What do you mean?¡±

    ¡°I received a call a few hours ago. From Callum.¡±

    Callum McQueen, Werewolf King of the South and my uncle. ¡°What did he want?¡±

    ¡°To send his congratulations.¡± Lucas was leaving something out, I could tell from the hesitation in his voice.

    ¡°And?¡±

    Desmond and Lucas exchanged uneasy glances, as if I wouldn¡¯t notice when I was standing between them. ¡°Sit down for a second,¡± Lucas suggested. In honor of the agreement I¡¯d made to be less resistant, I sat, but I was still waiting for my men to give me a better explanation.

    ¡°It¡¯s been a long time since there was a royal marriage,¡± Desmond began.

    ¡°Decades,¡± Lucas agreed, nodding with what Desmond was saying.

    ¡°Whoop-dee-do,¡± I said. ¡°Is he hoping for an invite?¡±

    The wolves looked nervous, and Lucas said, ¡°In a manner of speaking.¡±

    ¡°Guys¡­not to be impatient or anything, but I am sitting here in a twelve-thousand-dollar dress that is itchier than being wrapped in sandpaper, someone just tried to kill me, and I don¡¯t have a lot of steam left to follow the bouncing ball of this ridiculous buildup. Pull off the Band-Aid. Please.¡±

    Lucas sat in front of me on the big leather ottoman and took my hand in his. ¡°Callum is claiming you, as a princess of the Southern pack line, are his wolf. He is insisting if I, as King, want to marry you, I need to go to Louisiana and make an official request of your hand from him in person. I must make an appeal for you in front of him and the lead members of his pack.¡±

    ¡°You what? Like hell you do.¡±

    ¡°He¡¯s using a very old pack law. It is usually overlooked, but he¡¯s making a point of requiring it, and according to the laws of our people, I must respect his wishes and comply with the request.¡±

    ¡°This is bullshit.¡±

    ¡°It¡¯s¡­inconvenient, sure. But we have no choice in the matter. Protocol dictates¡ª¡±

    ¡°Lucas, open your eyes.¡±

    He frowned and released my hands then stood abruptly. ¡°We have no choice. Either we go to Louisiana, or I start a war. And I will not start a war.¡±

    ¡°It¡¯s a trap. Don¡¯t you get that?¡±

    ¡°Secret, you don¡¯t understand.¡± He sounded tired and irritated. I had that effect on him.

    ¡°Then help me understand.¡±

    ¡°I have considered Callum is baiting me. I know it¡¯s the most logical reason for him to use such an outdated excuse to lure us south. In spite of your opinion of my leadership skills, I¡¯m not a fool.¡±

    ¡°I never¡ª¡±

    He cut me off with the wave of a hand. ¡°He can¡¯t openly attack me, and he certainly won¡¯t do it in his kingdom. What he¡¯s hoping is that we will slip up when we get there. He¡¯s counting on us to be the ones to make the mistake.¡±

    I sat back, the lace of the gown making my underarms itch. ¡°You mean he¡¯s counting on me to be the one to make a mistake.¡±

    Again he and Desmond exchanged loaded glances before Lucas said, ¡°Most likely, yes.¡±

    ¡°And you can¡¯t go without me because he¡¯s using our marriage as the bait.¡±

    ¡°Right.¡±

    ¡°So what you¡¯re saying is, we¡¯re going to Louisiana to meet the man who has made your life a living hell for months, the man who drove his own mother to flee the country for fear over my safety, and you want me to smile and nod and curtsy. Be the pretty little princess everyone expects me to be.¡±

    He paused. ¡°I don¡¯t think anyone expects you to curtsy.¡±

    I called Nolan from Desmond¡¯s car. Due to the threat against me I wasn¡¯t allowed to go anywhere unattended, and Desmond was being especially vigilant in that. No one, me more than anyone, blamed him for my recent brushes with death, but it was apparent he blamed himself.

    Morgan, as per instruction from Lucas, had purchased me new clothes, but she had enjoyed the task a bit too much. The jeans she¡¯d selected were so long I had to cuff them twice, and the powder-pink hoodie I wore over a blue My Little Pony T-shirt had cute fuzzy bear ears attached to it.

    At least my black Converse sneakers were my own. But the whole ensemble made me look about as menacing as a twelve-year-old girl at a Justin Bieber concert.

    Nolan picked up on the second ring. ¡°¡¯Allo?¡±

    ¡°Pack a bag,¡± I told him.

    ¡°For what?¡±

    ¡°You¡¯re moving temporarily.¡± I explained the circumstances. Since I wasn¡¯t sure who was after me, those close to me might be in danger as well. I couldn¡¯t take Brigit with me on a werewolf field trip without giving Lucas a coronary, and since she wasn¡¯t yet under the council¡¯s protection I didn¡¯t want her left vulnerable. Nolan might just be human, but Brigit meant something to him. Having the two of them together would ease my mind because I knew they¡¯d look out for one another, and I wanted to be certain they were safe.

    When I hung up, Desmond shook his head. ¡°Only you would worry about the safety of a vampire at a time like this.¡±

    I smiled innocently, not quite sure what to say to that. ¡°Let¡¯s go get my stuff, okay?¡±

    ¡°I¡¯m taking you right to the airport. No stops. We can¡¯t take the risk.¡±

    I gaped at him, indicating my middle-school-themed ensemble. ¡°I¡¯m supposed to meet a king dressed like this?¡±

    ¡°I¡¯ll make sure your stuff gets there. Brigit will know what you need. I¡¯ll get her to put together a bag for you.¡±

    ¡°What do you mean? You¡¯re coming with us.¡±

    ¡°No.¡± He frowned. ¡°I have to stay behind and be responsible for the pack while Lucas is gone. That¡¯s my duty. When Lucas is gone, I have to be here, it trumps all my other responsibilities. Even my job to protect you.¡± He reached over and gave my hand an apologetic squeeze. ¡°Morgan, Dominick and Jackson will be with you.¡±

    ¡°Awesome.¡±

    Minutes later we pulled into a parking lot behind JFK where a small Cessna with the Rain Industries emblem painted on the side was waiting for us. A pilot stood a safe distance away, smoking a cigarette, and Lucas¡ªwith Morgan at his side¡ªwas speaking animatedly into his cell phone. It sent a pang through my heart to see how much more right Morgan looked beside him with her chic bob and expensive, tailored blazer over her expensive, tailored jeans.

    ¡°Can I do this?¡± I asked, fingering one of the fuzzy ears on my hood.

    Desmond took my hand, the one without the engagement ring, and kissed my knuckles.

    ¡°You¡¯ll knock ¡¯em dead.¡±

    Knowing my luck, he¡¯d be right.

    Chapter Fifteen

    For some odd reason I thought Louisiana would be hot. I¡¯d spent only the first months of my life there and had no memories of the place at all, but my brain led me to believe it would be hot. Like somehow it was a magical, tropical place where April temperature didn¡¯t affect the state as it did the rest of the continental US.

    We got off the plane just before dawn, the sky a deep, hazy purple. Even though it was much warmer than New York, New Orleans wasn¡¯t anywhere near as sweltering as I¡¯d imagined.

    A car was waiting, and Lucas, Dominick and I climbed in. Morgan and Jackson waited for the next one. We left the airport, bound for city center, and the purple of the sky began to take on a distinctly pinkish hue.

    I yawned.

    ¡°We¡¯re almost there.¡± Lucas must have sensed my anxiousness about the oncoming sunrise, but neither of us said anything about it. We¡¯d had to tread carefully the whole way here because of Morgan. Even Jackson knew about my connection to the vampires, but Morgan was still in the dark, and that was the only place I trusted her.

    The car deposited us in front of a beautiful hotel in the heart of the French Quarter. The building was old, covered in wrought iron and festooned with charming details, giving it a look like it was airlifted right out of Paris and dumped here.

    The entire block looked much the same, glowing with warmth and alive with activity even in the predawn hours.

    When we got out, the other car was pulling up behind us, perfectly timed for the crew of bellhops who came out to collect our luggage and fawn over us. I guess it paid to travel this way.

 Page 14

    Whenever I¡¯d traveled for the Tribunal as an assassin¡ªwhich hadn¡¯t happened often¡ªit was to budget motels or hotels with bad plumbing. The council didn¡¯t have to stay there, so what did it matter to them?

    Our party was whisked inside with a flourish, and I breathed a sigh of relief once we were out of the open air. Not that I didn¡¯t want to see more of the city, but a vampire will burst into flames in the New Orleans sun the same as she will in New York.

    Bellhops had already taken our baggage, so all that remained was for us to take our tired selves to bed. Lucas had the penthouse suite booked, naturally, and there were bedrooms on each end of the floor. The larger open-concept king-sized room was intended for Lucas and me, while the smaller but still stately queen room was for Dominick. As Lucas¡¯s bodyguard, Dominick never went far from the king¡¯s side, and now that we¡¯d stuck our hand into a wasps¡¯ nest, he would be on us like glue the entire time we were in New Orleans.

    For once the idea of constant supervision didn¡¯t enrage me. Instead I found Dominick¡¯s presence comforting.

    When we made our way into the suite, I could have hugged the hotel management for the thick, lightproof shades pulled over the windows. They were probably for the comfort and convenience of dulling post-Mardi Gras hangover headaches, but they¡¯d do the job for a daytime-sleeping half-vampire too.

    I made a beeline for the soft, plush white bed and collapsed face-down on it. My stupid pink hood with its goofy, fuzzy ears was still pulled up over my head. Within seconds dawn broke over the old city and I was dead to the world.

    I was naked, but not in the good, fun, body-parts-bumping-together kind of way.

    Walking barefoot through the forest, I followed a silvery trail laid out by the moon in the fragrant duff. The moonlight made my already pale skin ghostly white, almost pearlescent. I felt like a lunar goddess.

    The path descended into a valley, and the trees gave way to lower bushes and spindle-thin saplings. Out here I felt my nakedness more acutely, as though the vulnerability of open space drew my attention to how exposed I was physically.

    There was a large bonfire a hundred yards in front of me, and I followed the light. When I got nearer, I expected to feel warmth, but I was only dazzled by its brightness in contrast to the moon.

    A woman stood on the opposite side of the pyre, so I skirted the protruding edges until I stood beside her. With the orange flame lighting her face, she looked younger than I remembered her being last. The glow softened the anger in her features some, but the hate-deadened expression in her eyes showed clearly.

    ¡°Mercy,¡± I acknowledged her.

    ¡°You never could call me mom, could you?¡±

    ¡°That would require you to act like a mother first.¡±

    Mercy McQueen turned to face me, and at this angle her age showed in sharp relief to the flames, wrinkles I¡¯d never noticed before looked deep. ¡°What is it some mothers say? I brought you into this world, I can take you out of it?¡±

    Alone with her, carrying no weapon except a half-decade of training, I thought maybe I should be frightened. I wasn¡¯t. Mostly I felt a pit of loss in my chest where a mother¡¯s love was supposed to go.

    ¡°I have no fight with you,¡± I said.

    ¡°If only it was that simple.¡±

    ¡°It could be.¡± I stared at her for long enough she looked back into the fire. ¡°You could leave me alone.¡±

    ¡°You¡¯ve taken everything from me.¡±

    ¡°I did what had to be done.¡±

    ¡°And so will I. I will have you dead.¡±

    ¡°I¡¯d like to see you try.¡± My jaw was so rigid it was hard to speak.

    ¡°You will,¡± she promised. ¡°You will.¡±

    I sat with Lucas and Dominick at the dining room table in our suite and recounted my dream to them. Dominick did his best to hide his disbelief over the validity of clues found in dreams. Lucas, on the other hand, knew firsthand how unusual my resting mind was.

    ¡°We never considered the Mercy angle,¡± he admitted. ¡°I assumed if there was a trap, it would be related to Callum¡¯s attempts on my territory.¡±

    Dominick tore a chunk off a cheese Danish and popped it into his mouth, chewing thoughtfully. In the meantime, his blue eyes spoke volumes. When he voiced his opinion, he treaded lightly. ¡°Not that I¡¯m doubting you, Secret, but we can¡¯t exactly go to our meeting with Callum and accuse him of luring us here so your mother can kill you. I mean, she almost did it in New York. Why would she need you here?¡±

    ¡°Pack support,¡± I suggested. ¡°She had none at the end, after I removed Marcus¡¯s pack. Here she¡¯s royalty.¡±

    ¡°So are you,¡± Lucas pointed out.

    I snorted. Very princessy of me.

    I began to work up another argument as to why I thought the dream should be considered with more seriousness, but my ringing phone interrupted us. Lucas tried to hide his smirk over my ringtone.

    ¡°Hello?¡± I got up from the table and moved into the master bedroom for some privacy.

    ¡°Took a little vacation, did you?¡± Sig¡¯s tone could have been mistaken for cheerful. I wasn¡¯t fooled.

    A shiver ran down my spine and I tried to gather my thoughts before speaking again. ¡°Pack business.¡±

    ¡°Imagine my surprise,¡± he went on like I hadn¡¯t spoken at all, ¡°when I received a phone call last night¡­a phone call¡­from a frantic Oracle convinced you were in immediate peril. In Louisiana.¡±

    Oh my God. Calliope had called him? Not only did the half god, half fairy never use the phone, she also hated Sig more than anyone I¡¯d ever known. Broken hearts will do crazy things to people.

    ¡°Sig, I¡¯m sorry. I had no choice.¡±

    ¡°Choice is a lie we tell ourselves when we do things we feel people won¡¯t like.¡±

    I said nothing.

    ¡°You won¡¯t come back if I tell you to, we both know that.¡± He sighed.

    ¡°Not until I¡¯m done here.¡±

    ¡°I expected as much. So I sent you something. It took a lot of time, money and favors to get it to you, though I somehow doubt you¡¯ll appreciate the effort.¡±

    Why didn¡¯t I like the sound of that?

    A knock at the door sent a shard of fear deep into my gut. ¡°What did you do?¡± I asked the dial tone. Although he was gone, I still held the phone to my ear as I went to the door and swung it open. ¡°Son of a fucking bitch.¡±

    ¡°Actually my mother was a lovely woman,¡± Holden said. ¡°Now are you going to invite me in?¡±

    Chapter Sixteen

    It took some convincing to let Lucas allow me to leave with Holden and no guards.

    ¡°Like hell,¡± the wolf king said.

    ¡°I need to talk to him,¡± I countered.

    ¡°Talk to him here.¡±

    I huffed a sigh and turned to the vampire for a little help. He dropped the two suitcases he was carrying¡ªone looked suspiciously as though it came from my apartment¡ªthen he smirked.

    Helpful.

    ¡°He can¡¯t stay here,¡± Lucas continued.

    ¡°He won¡¯t.¡±

    ¡°Actually¡­¡± Sure, now Holden wanted to be helpful.

    ¡°Shh-ush,¡± I hissed.

    He grinned. I almost wished he were being grim and surly. Then his mood would match Lucas¡¯s. And mine for that matter.

    ¡°Out of the question,¡± Lucas insisted. ¡°I don¡¯t trust his¡­discretion for one. Fucking. Second.¡±

    ¡°My orders supersede your opinion of my indiscretions,¡± Holden said, and on the last word he gave me a lascivious wink.

    Oh for God¡¯s sake. He was enjoying this.

    ¡°Outside.¡± I pointed to the door.

    ¡°Not now¡ª¡±

    ¡°Yes. Now. That¡¯s an order.¡±

    My command sobered him up right quick. He nudged the yellow Coach weekend bag he¡¯d brought, the one I suspected was mine.

    ¡°I brought you something.¡± Then he stalked back out the door.

    ¡°Secret.¡± My name was all Lucas said.

    ¡°This wasn¡¯t my idea.¡±

    The look on his face told me he didn¡¯t entirely believe me. ¡°Be that as it may, I need it undone.¡±

    I didn¡¯t bother explaining how Sig¡¯s orders trumped mine and I couldn¡¯t get rid of Holden if I wanted to. Instead I gave Lucas a tight nod. ¡°You need to let me talk to him. I¡¯ll take care of this. I¡¯ll be safe with him.¡±

    Lucas grumbled something and threw his hands up in the air before stomping back to the table.

    I took that as permission.

    Before going to Holden, I stooped over my bag and unzipped it. Desmond had anticipated Brigit would be choosing my clothes for me, but it seemed a different vampire entirely had snuck into my closet and done the job. Desmond was out often enough it wouldn¡¯t have been hard, I was just hoping he¡¯d think Bri had taken the items, not Holden.

    Inside the small suitcase was an array of sharp-looking outfits to make me appear both royal and dangerous. Leave it to Holden to think of my clothing needs above and beyond jeans and sweaters.

    Underneath a leather skirt I found the real treasure, though. Extra clips for the SIG I¡¯d brought in my purse and a wooden box containing the dagger Desmond had given me for Christmas. I couldn¡¯t wear the dagger now, having no coat suitable to hide the leg strap, but I gratefully took the clips of silver bullets.

    Unfortunately, in spite of all the new and lovely clothes I¡¯d had delivered, I couldn¡¯t take the time to change into any of them. I didn¡¯t want to give Lucas a chance to change his mind and refuse to let me leave. And I didn¡¯t want to get his hackles up by getting dressed nicely for a chat with Holden. Sadly, the hoodie would have to stick around for another hour or so.

    Shouldering Holden¡¯s bag, I turned to the wolves. ¡°I¡¯ll be back soon,¡± I promised.

    ¡°You look ridiculous.¡± This was Holden¡¯s idea of an apology.

    ¡°I don¡¯t need any more motivation to want to shoot you right now, but thanks.¡± I pushed a beignet around on my plate then licked the powdered sugar off my fingers before chasing it with a big swig of coffee.

 Page 15

    ¡°I¡¯m not leaving.¡±

    ¡°I know.¡±

    ¡°Then why did you tell the wolf you would take care of it?¡±

    ¡°Are you really that thick?¡± I raised an eyebrow and bit off a corner of the pastry. Considering I typically only ate blood, this tasted ferociously sweet. I puckered my lips before I drank more coffee. ¡°Lucas can¡¯t know you¡¯re here.¡±

    I played with the pink hoodie strings, my anxiety making it impossible for me to sit still. I didn¡¯t like the idea of lying to Lucas so early into this trip, especially not about something this big. But there was no way to make him understand I couldn¡¯t undo Sig¡¯s order to Holden.

    Part of me didn¡¯t want to. I liked having Holden around.

    ¡°If you put your hair into pigtails, I think you might appeal to a very kinky niche,¡± he teased.

    I threw a hunk of pastry at him. ¡°Do you think you can maintain a low profile? Keep your distance?¡±

    ¡°Yes.¡± Brushing white spots of sugar off his sport coat, he looked far from intimidating.

    ¡°I¡¯d appreciate that.¡±

    Back out on the street, the night was bursting to life in the French Quarter. Streetlights glowed a warm amber, throwing puddles of illumination onto the sidewalks. Holden and I moved through the golden circles without speaking.

    Jazz and blues filtered out from various clubs and street musicians. A woman whose voice sounded like Billie Holiday¡¯s crooned mournfully from a bar a block away from the hotel. A faint chill in the spring air reminded me of home, but the scent of jambalaya and fried fish was in stark opposition to New York¡¯s street fragrances. No pretzels and hot dogs here. The air smelled different. It was exotic, tinged with a note of magic¡ªspicy and wicked.

    I liked it.

    ¡°I¡¯m glad you¡¯re here,¡± I whispered, feeling unusually confessional in these strange surroundings.

    ¡°I¡¯ll always be here. As long as you need me.¡± The seriousness of his tone surprised me. I¡¯d expected something cheeky or bawdy and instead got frank and raw. I looked at him, hoping to get a read from his face, but it was just a mask. A lovely, chiseled-jaw, bow-lipped mask, but empty of clues all the same.

    We arrived at the hotel in time to see a bellhop throw my suitcase into the trunk of a waiting limousine.

    ¡°What the¡ª¡±

    Holden had vanished, gone so quickly the night must have opened invisible jaws and swallowed him whole.

    Lucas trotted down the steps with Dominick at his heels and came to a stop when he spotted me. ¡°Your timing is impeccable.¡± He stooped and kissed me on the cheek. ¡°Did you get everything¡­taken care of?¡± His gaze raked the sidewalk behind me.

    ¡°Yes, it¡¯s been handled.¡±

    ¡°Good.¡± He nodded, smiling more to himself than to me, and waved Dominick onwards to the waiting car. ¡°There¡¯s been a slight change of plan.¡±

    I eyed the car with wary apprehension. ¡°Oh?¡±

    ¡°Your uncle has requested that rather than stay in the city and have us commute to and from his estate, he would prefer if we come to stay with him.¡±

    ¡°He¡­¡± I looked at our idling ride and an unease crept under my skin that felt, for all the world, like a thousand cicadas had begun buzzing inside me. ¡°And you agreed?¡±

    ¡°Keep your friends close¡­¡±

    ¡°Lucas,¡± I said as his words drifted off. ¡°This isn¡¯t really that kind of situation, is it? There¡¯s a very real possibility Callum is working with Mercy and together they are responsible for the attempts on my life. And you honestly thought it was a good idea for us to stay where he can see us at all times? How does us going to Callum¡¯s estate help us keep our friends close?¡±

    ¡°Maybe your friends were a little too close.¡±

    The hairs on the back of my neck stood on end. ¡°This is about Holden? I told you that was taken care of.¡±

    ¡°This is about more than your vampire friend, Secret.¡± He didn¡¯t look at me when he opened the back door of the car and stepped aside so I could get in. ¡°I can¡¯t refuse an invitation from the king when we are in his territory.¡±

    I didn¡¯t have anything sassy to say in reply. ¡°Well¡­¡±

    ¡°Don¡¯t mistake me. I¡¯m not thrilled the vampire was here. And I will admit I¡¯m glad this relocation puts us outside the influence of your¡­sect.¡± Here his voice lowered, like he was trying to handle his words as delicately as china.

    ¡°My council,¡± I corrected.

    ¡°Whatever.¡±

    I grabbed his arm and dragged him into the car, slamming the door behind us. When I was certain the only person with us was Dominick, I fixed Lucas with a cold stare and made sure he knew I wasn¡¯t putting it on for show.

    ¡°I don¡¯t pretend to know everything about pack law, Lucas, and I never would, but don¡¯t you dare talk down to me because you don¡¯t have the slightest clue what goes on with the council. I make every effort to respect pack law, yet you dismiss something important to me like it¡¯s meaningless.¡±

    There was a cool, regal silence while he considered my words, and the temperature inside the car dropped several degrees as I waited for him to speak. In the front seat, Dominick drummed his fingers nervously on the steering wheel.

    We were all silent.

    ¡°You¡¯re right,¡± Lucas said finally. ¡°I haven¡¯t been fair to you.¡±

    I¡¯d been expecting more of a fight, so I was taken aback by his easy acceptance.

    ¡°But¡­¡±

    Ah, there it was.

    ¡°But what?¡± I never liked ¡°but¡± statements¡ªthey were just another way for a conversation to turn around and kick you in the butt.

    ¡°There is a difference between you respecting the werewolves, and my respect or lack thereof for the vampire council you so willingly serve.¡±

    I jerked my chin up to signal him to continue.

    ¡°You are part werewolf and have the right and need to know what goes on in our society,¡± he said. ¡°Whereas I have no desire to be any part of the vampire world.¡±

    Chapter Seventeen

    If there were a Girl Scout merit badge for sitting through uncomfortable silences, I would have qualified for it a thousand times over. Lucas and I sat on opposite sides of the backseat while Dominick listened to a crackling classic-rock radio station. ¡°Freebird¡± twanged on, with brief static solos to change things up a little.

    Lucas cleared his throat, and I shifted closer to the door, crossing my arms tighter over my stomach. I refused to look at him.

    ¡°Are you going to¡ª?¡±

    I turned, regarding him directly for the first time since we¡¯d left New Orleans, and the move surprised him enough he stopped talking mid-sentence. Either that or my curls had turned into snakes and I¡¯d transformed him into a statue.

    ¡°Where are we going?¡± My gaze was trained on Lucas but somehow Dominick understood the question was for him. Maybe because of the warmth in my voice.

    ¡°St. Francisville.¡±

    ¡°Where?¡± He might as well have told me we were going to Timbuktu for all St. Francisville meant to me.

    This time Lucas spoke, forcing me to focus my attention on him for real. ¡°We¡¯re going north. St. Francisville is just beyond Baton Rouge.¡±

    ¡°And flying into the Baton Rouge airport was too obvious?¡±

    ¡°We couldn¡¯t. It¡¯s too deep into Callum¡¯s territory. The only way we could have entered the state that close to his home base was if he brought us. If it had been an option, I think he would have had us land in Florida and drive all the way from there. The only reason we were allowed to go into a Louisiana airport at all was because we were invited.¡±

    Winding the strings from my hood around my fingers, I looked out the window of the car and watched the light from small towns speed by in a glowing blur. The highway wasn¡¯t deserted, but it didn¡¯t feel like we were close to anything substantial anymore.

    ¡°Werewolves are fucking ridiculous.¡±

    Dominick snorted, unable to stop himself in time. To try to hide the gaffe, he turned the volume on the radio up a little more. Eric Clapton crooned on about that coldhearted bitch, Layla. I was betting if I could read Lucas¡¯s mind, he was probably thinking, Amen, Clapton. Amen. Instead of saying this out loud, he sighed his particular, regal sigh. ¡°Then I guess that explains a lot about you, doesn¡¯t it?¡±

    My mouth hung open, and Dominick struggled to keep from laughing, but his shoulders were trembling from the effort. I let out a huff of breath and my lips made a pfffft sound. ¡°Can we agree to try not to get at each other¡¯s throats for this trip? We¡¯re in love. We¡¯re getting married. Can we pretend everything is perfect for Callum¡¯s sake?¡±

    ¡°You¡¯re saying it¡¯s not perfect?¡± This time his smirk betrayed him.

    ¡°Smartass.¡±

    ¡°I think we¡¯re already where my parents were after a decade of marriage. Half an inch from strangling each other to death at any given moment.¡±

    ¡°Well, if we don¡¯t do each other in, something tells me Callum will be more than willing to do it for us.¡±

    Lucas¡¯s charming smirk vanished, and with its departure came the familiar sinking feeling in my gut. I¡¯d been teasing, but he appeared to be worried. Deeply and truly worried. He reached across the seat and took my hand, giving it a squeeze of false comfort. He might have meant to be comforting, but I knew he didn¡¯t feel certain of our safety. It was written all over his face.

    I squeezed back. ¡°Everything is going to be fine.¡±

    ¡°I don¡¯t know.¡± He had turned to stare out the window, and now I was looking at the back of his head. ¡°I just don¡¯t know.¡±

    As it turned out, St. Francisville was a two-hour drive north of New Orleans, and the most interesting sight on the way was the dim, ominous outline of the Maurepas swamplands. The farther north we crawled, the more the silence thickened between Lucas and me, to the point where I was looking forwards to hearing whatever shitty, crackling song would come on the radio next because it was just one more three-minute interruption to the uneasy quiet.

 Page 16

    The sign welcoming us to St. Francisville felt like a pin in the inflated balloon of our tension. The car ahead of us that held Morgan, Jackson and the member of Callum¡¯s pack serving as our guide drove past the beautiful stately homes of the small town. The street was lined by big, old houses with wraparound porches and potted plants that were in bloom even in the early spring climate.

    In the grand tradition of all American small towns, the main street was called Main Street, and we followed it all the way through the heart of the town and right back out again. I whipped my head around and watched our destination shrink out of sight into the gloom of the night.

    ¡°Uhhhh.¡±

    ¡°Patience.¡±

    ¡°And sweetness, my two greatest traits.¡±

    ¡°Eyes up front,¡± Lucas directed, gently rotating my chin towards the front seat again. ¡°Look.¡±

    The car ahead of us took a left turn and pulled off the main highway onto an unlit road. Dominick hit the signal and followed onto the gravel.

    The wheels crunched the small rocks with the crackle of a bag of chips. Waving sycamore boughs dripping with moss brushed the roof of the car and hung in green curtains down the visible length of the road. A road that seemed to go forever and onward into nothing.

    After about five minutes of driving through the Louisiana equivalent of a car wash, the road turned to proper pavement and fanned out into a huge circular driveway. In the center of the driveway was a fountain featuring a low rocky outcropping with a wolf standing on top posed in a howl stance.

    The lead car pulled off to the side and we followed suit, taking an open spot in a parking lot already brimming full with a variety of mismatched automobiles ranging from a battered pickup with a Confederate flag sticker in the back window to a silver Lexus convertible.

    The three Harley motorcycles next to the fountain piqued my interest, but I said nothing. What the hell were all these cars doing out here, and where was my uncle¡¯s house?

    Morgan and Jackson got out of the backseat, and Dominick let himself out before coming around to open Lucas¡¯s door. Once Lucas was out, he rounded the back of the car and released me, offering me a hand to give me a more graceful exit from the backseat.

    I don¡¯t know how much grace mattered considering my T-shirt had a prancing cartoon pony on it and my hoodie had fucking ears.

    The other driver was a petite young woman with auburn hair who was about two inches shorter than me and looked ten times nicer. She was smiling so much I thought her teeth might crack. Considering how actively Morgan was ignoring the wee driver, I suspected our resident alpha bitch wasn¡¯t a big fan of the shorter woman.

    Which meant I liked her right away.

    ¡°Your Majesty,¡± she said, dropping to her knees at Lucas¡¯s feet and ducking her head so low it touched the tips of his shoes. ¡°It is my most profound pleasure to have brought you safely before my king. My name is Magnolia, and I will be at your service during your stay.¡±

    Magnolia got to her feet then stood in front of me. Her smile widened, which I didn¡¯t think was possible. ¡°Your Royal Highness.¡± Her voice pitched upwards with excitement, then she repeated her toe-touching bow. ¡°I can¡¯t tell you what a joy it is to welcome our long-lost princess back.¡± She clasped my hand and squeezed. ¡°I will do anything you need. Anything.¡±

    Creepy.

    ¡°Well¡­thanks, Mags.¡±

    Her hazel eyes lit up. ¡°Mags,¡± she repeated.

    Had this girl never heard of a nickname? Did people seriously only call her Magnolia?

    Goddamn, I¡¯d dodged a bullet when I avoided being raised by the Southern McQueen clan.

    Mags wasn¡¯t a McQueen because of the way she was genuflecting like a motherfucker all over Lucas and me. No one in the upper ranks of the pack would be required to display such a show of obedience.

    Magnolia bowed to each of us again¡ªmuch more subtly this time¡ªthen swept her arm to a small path at our left. The winding trail was paved with red wood chips and led up a hill. We followed her lead, Dominick ahead of Lucas and me, while Morgan and Jackson brought up the rear.

    Once we¡¯d crested the hill, the answer to where the house was hidden became obvious. A massive Greek-revival plantation house was nestled amongst a group of huge, ancient oak trees whose trunks were green with thick, spongy-looking moss. The house itself rose two stories up, but judging by the height, the rooms inside must have all had twelve-to-fifteen-foot ceilings. Eight white columns lined the front of the house, with more around the sides supporting the roof for the wraparound verandah.

    Brilliantly white and clean, the house looked equal parts modern elegance and old-fashioned charm. Above the verandah¡¯s roof was a third floor that was smaller, as though someone had plopped a guesthouse on top, the proverbial cherry at the end of a sundae.

    The chip wood path split into a fork, one end leading to the house, another winding behind it and off into the darkness. I didn¡¯t know much about plantations, but I suspected there were more buildings, some equipment sheds and maybe a real guest suite. I was hopeful about the latter, because in spite of the beauty of the main house, I wanted to keep my distance from my uncle.

    Magnolia trotted ahead and took the three steps up to the verandah in one leap. A man emerged from the front door, and she hit the deck with such speed I thought she¡¯d been knocked over, but the drop was too graceful. Her forehead was practically against the wooden planks. If I had three guesses as to who the man was, I¡¯d use one and two to suggest Santa or the Tooth Fairy, because they¡¯d be totally unnecessary.

    Lucas and I arrived at the steps. I wanted to stay on the ground, but Lucas had no interest in standing lower than the other man. He bounded up the stairs, waiting for Magnolia to move before he extended his hand.

    Callum McQueen, Southern werewolf King, was as large in height as Lucas and broader across the chest. He wasn¡¯t yet forty, but the hair around his temples had begun to go gray, showing in stark contrast to his dark brown curls. Curly hair ran in the McQueen family. Blond did not.

    Thanks, Dad.

    I was betting the women of the south appreciated Callum¡¯s hard jaw and its thick, dark covering of stubble, which clung to his face not unlike moss clung to the oaks. His eyes were dark brown, and if they were the windows to the soul, his were shuttered. Callum¡¯s expression was unreadable. He looked down at Lucas¡¯s offered hand then turned his attention to me, where I remained on the ground level.

    ¡°Callum,¡± Lucas said, forcing his face into an approximation of a smile. ¡°It¡¯s a pleasure.¡±

    If anyone else had addressed Callum so casually, it would have been seen as an incredible faux pas. But Lucas was a king too, and as much as neither of them liked it, they were equals.

    After an achingly long pause, Callum took Lucas¡¯s hand and shook it. ¡°Welcome to my home, Lucas. It¡¯s been awhile. Last time I saw you, you were just a pup.¡±

    It wasn¡¯t an outright insult, but I caught on to what Callum was doing. He was trying to remind Lucas who the older, wiser king was of the two of them. Well, older was right at least.

    ¡°We were all younger men, once,¡± Lucas replied politely.

    Well played.

    ¡°Yes. And now you¡¯re marrying my niece.¡± Once again the Southern king¡¯s attention pivoted to me, and this time it lingered. ¡°My long-departed niece.¡±

    ¡°Hello¡­Your Majesty.¡± I grimaced after the words came out. Even to me they sounded petulant and forced.

    Callum pretended not to notice and offered me a smile and his hand. I climbed the steps hesitantly, expecting to fall into a booby trap any moment. I reached the top unscathed and placed my hand in his. His handshake was firm but not crushing. He didn¡¯t need to force his strength on to people. His power was obvious without being showy. He was confident he would be respected in his domain.

    ¡°So this is our little Secret.¡± He took my other hand and held my arms out from my side, like a dressmaker who was checking for a good fit. ¡°My goodness, all grown up.¡±

    ¡°Grandmere made sure I got my vitamins.¡±

    ¡°Grandmere.¡± He cocked his head to the side. ¡°Hmm. Indeed. How is my mother?¡±

    That was a rich question. She¡¯d run away from him because she believed under his teenage leadership my life would be at risk. Now I was standing here in his clutches¡ªliterally¡ªand he was asking after her health.

    ¡°She¡¯s well.¡± I said nothing else.

    ¡°Good.¡± He nodded once. And again. ¡°Good.¡± He dropped my arms. Neither of us commented on my ensemble, for which I was grateful. ¡°Well, let¡¯s not spend the whole night on the porch. The rest of the pack is at the bar. Magnolia will take you there, and I will meet you later.¡±

    The bar? We drove two hours, and now he wanted us to leave again to make our introductions to a bunch of drunk wolves? Could this get more ridiculous?

    ¡°Come on,¡± Magnolia said, walking around the side of the verandah.

    ¡°Uh, don¡¯t we need our cars?¡± I asked.

    ¡°Why? The bar is out back.¡±

    Chapter Eighteen

    The Southern wolf pack knew how to bring a party to their front door.

    We followed a chip path through another stand of oaks in total darkness. After about five minutes of silence, I was about to ask what kind of horror movie Magnolia was taking us into, when a pair of tiki torches appeared ahead. The path opened into a huge clearing.

    To our left was a stone building, shaped like a turret, which looked too small to be a house. To our right was a large wood-plank building with a rickety porch wrapping around it and newly replaced wooden steps that stood in bright blonde contrast to the stain of the rest of the building. Above the entrance was a neon orange sign blinking the words The Den.

    More neon decorated the windows on either side of the door and also served to obscure my view through the glass.

    ¡°You guys have a bar?¡± I couldn¡¯t wrap my head around the building in front of us.

    More buildings were set off in the distance, most dark, one or two with dim lights shining from their windows. It seemed as if Callum, or more likely my Grandfather Elmore, had renovated the old slave quarters into residences for the pack. With Callum¡¯s home being so far from a major metropolitan area, it must have been easier to have the pack stay close rather than wait to have them come to him.

 Page 17

    ¡°It¡¯s pretty new. We found the bar in St. Francisville was, um¡­¡± Magnolia bit back a grin and tried to look somber, ¡°¡­unable to meet our needs.¡±

    Translation, drunk wolves kept starting shit and were putting a beating on the poor townie men.

    ¡°So, Callum thought it was best to keep you guys under a more watchful eye?¡±

    Magnolia nodded. ¡°Some of the pack have short fuses. Keeping them within range of their king helps to hold their tempers in line. This way they can still have their fun and no one gets hurt.¡±

    ¡°Can we have a bar?¡± I asked Lucas.

    ¡°What would Genevieve think?¡±

    The queen of the were-ocelots, Genevieve Renard, had a bar in New York that was a popular shapeshifter hot spot. The Chameleon Lounge was a lot fancier than The Den, considering it also housed a 5-star quality restaurant. But the idea of our own little Manhattan pub was sort of appealing.

    ¡°Shall we go in?¡± Magnolia asked, apparently uneasy about the new, hungry look on my face. ¡°I¡¯d like to introduce you to the pack before His Majesty joins us.¡±

    ¡°Yes please, Magnolia. Lead the way.¡± Lucas nodded his head in her direction without bowing it. He couldn¡¯t show weakness to her or be seen to bow before a lesser wolf.

    Werewolf politics and customs took a lot of adjustment to get used to. Magnolia wasn¡¯t subservient because she was a woman. Women in packs often held prominent power positions, like Morgan or myself. And just as often men would fall into positions lower than Magnolia¡¯s in the pecking order. Where you stood depended on the power you projected. And your power was determined at birth. There was no way around it. With wolves you would never be able to rise above the position you were born to hold.

    I wondered if that was one of the reasons Kellen had decided not to be Awakened. She was spunky and independent, but she wasn¡¯t powerful. As a human she had control of her future. As a wolf she would have been subservient forever, living in the shadow of her brother the king.

    Once we were inside the bar, I became aware of just how quiet it had been outdoors. Within the walls of The Den it sounded like three dozen people were talking all at once. Probably because there were. I was amazed by the number of bodies wedged into the room and how hot it made the air. The smell of wolf was overwhelming.

    The conversations¡ªall forty thousand of them, from the sound of it¡ªcame to an abrupt stop when we followed Magnolia into the room. My first instinct was to duck behind Lucas, wanting to shrink away from the scrutiny of so many lupine stares. I could handle a few werewolves, but this many in one place put the odds well out of my favor. I was good, but I wasn¡¯t one-against-thirty-six good.

    ¡°Brothers and sisters,¡± Magnolia greeted, bowing her head to a few of the obviously higher-ranked pack members. ¡°I would like to present His Majesty, Lucas Rain, King of the Eastern packs, and his consort, Secret McQueen, Princess of our own Southern pack.¡±

    Every time Magnolia said princess I wanted to cringe. I¡¯d barely wrapped my head around the idea of being werewolf royalty in the past year, and here she was expecting these strangers to treat me like I was special. Maybe I was, but I didn¡¯t want a bunch of roughneck-looking shifters bowing in front of me as Mags had earlier. Thanks, but no thanks.

    The wolves sat stock-still for a few moments, casting uncertain glances between themselves until a woman in her mid-forties with a silvering ashy bob came and stood before Lucas and me. She bowed in a way she had not the first time we¡¯d met, but her eyes betrayed her real feelings.

    ¡°Hello again, Amelia,¡± I said, giving her a hard stare.

    Maybe I had something against women who acted as the third power seat in the werewolf hierarchy. Amelia was Callum¡¯s version of what Morgan was to Lucas. A strong wolf who probably wasn¡¯t quite strong enough or trustworthy enough to make the final jump to the lieutenant position.

    Amelia smiled at me in a cold, predatory way that would make Morgan proud if she had seen it. ¡°Your Royal Highness,¡± she greeted. I didn¡¯t like her tone. Or her face. Or her dress, for that matter.

    Perhaps I was being a touch judgmental.

    ¡°Always a pleasure.¡± The words came out sweet, but in my head I was shouting bitch, bitch, bitch. Lucas couldn¡¯t read my mind, but he knew me well enough he didn¡¯t need to. He grimaced and cleared his throat to bring Amelia¡¯s attention back his way.

    ¡°Amelia, nice to see you again. I trust time has treated you well.¡±

    ¡°It has, Your Majesty, thank you.¡± She bowed again, but not as low as Magnolia had.

    For the next fifteen minutes we were at the head of a lengthy queue of wolves who were required to let their beers grow warm while they bowed in a variety of heights and told us how thrilled they were to have us in their territory and how lovely it was to have me home again.

    Like this had ever been my home.

    The last wolf in line was a squinty, leering sort who I would give a wide berth to in a back alley or at a regular bar. Not that I was physically intimidated by him. Rather, something in his manner set off my spidey sense. He was on the wiry side of lean, and a hunger in his eyes suggested a small nudge would be enough to push him into dangerous losses of control. He smelled like trouble and was probably the main reason they¡¯d been forced to stop socializing with humans.

    He gave Lucas a midlevel bow and an appropriate¡ªif forced¡ªroyal address. When he turned his attention to me, though, propriety shifted into something different. Not lust¡ªI knew what that looked and felt like. No, this wolf wanted something other than sex, I just didn¡¯t know what it was. He leaned a little too close and sniffed the air around me, nostrils flaring wide as he breathed me deep.

    I stood my ground and stared him in his steel-blue eyes.

    ¡°I don¡¯t believe we¡¯ve been introduced,¡± I suggested, trying to give him an opportunity to fix the huge social mistake he was making. Lucas had gone rigid beside me, and it didn¡¯t take our mate bond to know rage was simmering under that hard surface.

    ¡°Yes. How silly of me,¡± the wolf said, his voice raspy and holding the promise of something dirty and raw. ¡°Your Royal Highness.¡± Those three words sounded filthy coming from his chapped lips. ¡°What a great treat it is to have you home¡­mingling amongst us commoners.¡±

    ¡°Hank,¡± Amelia spoke up, ¡°watch yourself.¡± But she wasn¡¯t really scolding him. The way she said it was more like a parent chastising a child when they secretly found the bad behavior hilarious. The rest of the pack remained quiet and watched us.

    ¡°Apologies, Princess,¡± Hank said.

    ¡°Already forgiven.¡± I didn¡¯t want to start trouble on our first night. And I didn¡¯t want to jeopardize our tenuous peace here by kicking the shit out of a redneck werewolf in a wife beater and saggy Levi¡¯s who couldn¡¯t grow a proper beard.

    ¡°Real swell of you to take time from your life in the big city, spending time with all them¡­lesser sorts.¡±

    At first I thought he meant the vampires and I tensed up, ready to make a break for the door. But when he licked his lips and grinned, I began to question the real meaning behind his words. My hesitation was rewarded when a short but well-muscled African-American werewolf next to the bar groaned and shook his head.

    ¡°I¡¯m sorry, Hank, maybe I missed something. Must be the hair.¡± I laughed and twisted a blonde ringlet around my finger, doing my best impression of Brigit when she was trying to lure in a meal. ¡°What do you mean by lesser sorts?¡±

    ¡°Hank¡­don¡¯t.¡± This time Amelia¡¯s warning was real, but still no one moved.

    ¡°Heard from some of the pack up there she spends an awful lot of time with some half-breed and his pretty blonde lady friend.¡±

    By his abysmal description I was pretty sure he was talking about Nolan and Brigit. I also now knew exactly what he meant by lesser sorts.

    I leaned in close, my lips almost against his ear. ¡°Back away from this. Do it now and you won¡¯t get hurt. But don¡¯t mistake this for forgiveness.¡± When I stood back, I made sure the threat in my glare was clear. If Hank and I met alone in the dark, one of us wouldn¡¯t come back. No one talked about my people like they were anything less than the best specimens living or undead. And no one talked shit about Nolan.

    Hank licked his lips then raised his hands in mock surrender. ¡°Sure thing, sweetheart.¡±

    Lucas intervened, clamping a hand on Hank¡¯s shoulder before my urge to punch the son of a bitch in the face could be realized. ¡°Hank, is it? Maybe your king is okay with you insulting members of your own pack to their face, but I won¡¯t stand for your behavior. Secret is your superior, both in my pack and yours, and if you don¡¯t treat her appropriately, you and I are going to have a discussion about how to show a lady respect.¡±

    The lesser wolf looked like he might protest, but he didn¡¯t get a chance.

    Callum came into the room at that moment, and Hank dropped to the floor faster than if someone had screamed duck in the front lines of a war zone.

    ¡°Hank, have you been causing problems for my guests? For my family?¡± Callum placed an arm around my shoulder in an almost paternal gesture, unlike anything I¡¯d ever felt before.

    ¡°No.¡±

    ¡°Don¡¯t lie to me.¡± The growl behind Callum¡¯s words was unmistakable, and the violence it promised pulled me out of the momentary trance his touch had put me under.

    ¡°My King, I¡¯m sorry. I meant nothing by it.¡±

    ¡°Then you won¡¯t mind missing the rest of our festivities tonight.¡±

    ¡°I¡ª¡±

    ¡°That wasn¡¯t a request, Hank. Out.¡±

    If he¡¯d had his tail right then, Hank would have slinked out with it between his legs. But as he passed me, our eyes met, and I knew the talking down hadn¡¯t been enough.

    Less than twenty-four hours in Louisiana and I¡¯d already made an enemy.

    Was there a prize for that?

    Chapter Nineteen

    Werewolves like to drink.

    A lot.

    We were an hour into the welcome-wagon fiesta and the Louisiana wolves had worked through enough beer and scotch to put a Sons of Anarchy biker gang party to shame. Even Amelia and Magnolia were drinking their scotch neat and could hold their liquor like troopers.

 Page 18

    Three wolves in jean jackets with matching black beards and identical blue bandanas had loaded about seven dollars worth of quarters in the jukebox and were singing loudly and triumphantly off key to Garth Brooks¡¯s ¡°Friends in Low Places¡±.

    Country music and drunk werewolves. This night couldn¡¯t get any better.

    On the other hand, when I looked past my bitterness, it was nice to see not everyone in Callum¡¯s pack was a hateful racist like Hank. Werewolves, in that sense, were a lot like vampires. Who you were after the monster claimed you was the same person you were before, only the after picture had more fur or fangs. Hank had probably been raised by the nearest Ku Klux Klan Grand Dragon or whatever, and once that kind of hate blackens your soul, it can¡¯t be undone.

    I had to wonder, if he hated me for associating with a half-black kid, how did he deal with having a black man in his own pack? It must have been a hard pill for Hank to swallow. I hoped like hell the African-American werewolf was higher ranked because it would serve Hank right to have to follow the orders of someone he would normally treat like garbage in the street.

    I was all for that kind of metaphysical justice.

    Nursing my Budweiser, I tried not to draw attention to how little I was drinking. If I¡¯d turned down the booze in a crowd of hard drinkers this close to my wedding, the immediate assumption would be that a tiny werewolf pup was taking up refuge in my womb.

    Fat chance on that one.

    Truth was, I was the cheapest drunk this side of a group of sixteen-year-old girls with a four-pack of Mike¡¯s Hard Lemonade. My metabolism worked too fast, and I went from zero to drunk in as much time as it took to ask, ¡°You wanna make it a double?¡± Sometimes it was great, but right now it was a huge nuisance.

    So I sipped the shitty beer I¡¯d been offered then held the nearly full bottle up every time someone new tried to get me one and said, ¡°Sorry, so-and-so just got me a refill.¡±

    Morgan and Jackson both appeared to be following my lead, because every time I looked over, Morgan¡¯s whiskey was only half-empty, and Jackson¡¯s beer bottle label was always torn in the same place. I was glad to see they weren¡¯t immediately trusting our Southern hosts and were keeping their guards up.

    Lucas, on the other hand, was taking on the task of fitting in with a certain gusto.

    That is to say, he was hammered.

    You can turn a twenty-seven-year-old man into a king, but you can¡¯t take the twenty-seven-year-old out of the man. Desmond still played Xbox, and Lucas still drank with the gusto of a frat boy at social events. He was making merry with the locals like a pro.

    Dominick sat beside me, using his bodyguard duties to avoid yielding to peer pressure. Too bad my pack-protector position didn¡¯t give me a similar out. The slight blond had tipped his chair back, and his eyes were half-closed, giving him the appearance of being near sleep. I wasn¡¯t fooled.

    ¡°He looks like he¡¯s having fun, eh?¡± I asked.

    ¡°Eh.¡± Dominick laughed at me. ¡°You had a wee Canadian slip-up there, McQueen.¡±

    ¡°Sure, sure. Watch yourself or I¡¯ll aboot Chesterfield touque poutine.¡±

    He dropped his chair back onto all fours and gaped at me, his cheeks flushed with amusement. ¡°What just happened there?¡±

    ¡°Oh, sorry, you don¡¯t speak Canadian.¡±

    ¡°Neither do you, apparently, because that wasn¡¯t a sentence in any English dialect ever.¡±

    ¡°Sure it was.¡± I sipped my beer and smiled for real for the first time since we¡¯d arrived in Louisiana. ¡°I said I¡¯ll beat your ass to a pulp if you ever insult my Canadianisms again.¡±

    ¡°Nonsense. Everyone knows Canadians are a peaceful people.¡± He was laughing now.

    ¡°Tell that to the White House circa 1812,¡± I told him.

    ¡°Oh? Why?¡±

    ¡°Because that¡¯s the year the peace-loving Canadians burned it to the ground.¡±

    Dominick grabbed an empty bottle and jumped onto his chair. The room got silent in an instant as everyone paused to look at him. ¡°Cheers to 1812.¡± He lifted his empty bottle.

    The whole room whooped and raised their full glasses, howling in unison.

    I could barely hear over the sound of my own laughter.

    After Morgan and Jackson were shown the way to the two-bedroom cabin they¡¯d be sharing, the next stop on the Magnolia Plantation Tour was another dark path into the great unknown. Only this time I had a smashed werewolf king who was leaning on me as though a hundred and ninety pounds of muscle were easy for me to carry, and I no longer had Jackson¡¯s help supporting Lucas¡¯s weight. He was trying to sing me a song, but had come up with a weird mashup of ¡°Endless Love¡± and ¡°I Wanna Sex You Up¡±. It was endearing in the way really drunk romanticisms were, but I was too distracted by how heavy he was to appreciate it.

    Magnolia interrupted his serenade with a ¡°Here we are.¡± She and Dominick were doing an admirable job of ignoring the spectacle of a piss-drunk Lucas trying to be a smooth Casanova.

    I wanted to defend him and explain that when he wasn¡¯t eighty-percent whiskey, he was incredibly charming. But they didn¡¯t care. He was royalty. He could shit in someone¡¯s hand and they¡¯d say thank you.

    We had come to a stop in front of a single-level house built in the same style as The Den. It had been painted an antiqued turquoise color, giving it a fresh, beachy look, and had a porch swing hanging next to the door. I dumped my fianc¨¦ onto the swing, where he continued to sing loud and off key.

    ¡°I can give him the tour later,¡± I told Magnolia.

    She nodded and opened the front door, letting me into a small but tidy cabin. Immediately inside the door was a kitchenette with a stovetop burner and a tiny bar fridge. To my left was a worn-looking couch sitting in front of a limestone fireplace. Throw rugs were scattered haphazardly across the hardwood floor.

    ¡°The wood can feel real cold in the morning,¡± Magnolia explained. ¡°The fireplaces don¡¯t work anymore. We had to seal them up when critters started coming in and ruining all the unused cabins.¡±

    ¡°It¡¯s okay, I know all about the joys of ornamental fireplaces.¡±

    Along the back wall were two doors. She pointed to the one on the left. ¡°The bathroom.¡± Clearly it was not a stop on our tour because she steered us in the direction of the right-hand door. ¡°And this is your bedroom.¡±

    Inside, the walls had been painted white, and the exposed beams ran the length of the ceiling and into the main room, showing me that the bedroom wall didn¡¯t go all the way to the top, as if the room divisions had been added later. If these had once been slave quarters, that made sense. Why divide a room for comfort when you could cram people in on top of each other like cattle?

    A king-sized bed with a soft white duvet took up most of the room. The only touch of color was a painting of waves rolling off an angry ocean, which hung over the bed. The grays and blue greens tied the stark whiteness back into the seaside color scheme the rest of the cabin had been decorated with.

    ¡°Thank you so much, Magnolia.¡± I saw our bags piled beside the door, my yellow weekender looking extra cheeky amongst all the white. ¡°Thank you.¡±

    ¡°Anything,¡± she repeated her promise from earlier. ¡°Will His Royal Highness be okay?¡±

    I snorted. ¡°He¡¯ll have a royal headache in the morning, but yes, he¡¯ll be fine.¡±

    ¡°Very good.¡± She nodded and turned to go. ¡°We¡¯ll see you at breakfast.¡±

    ¡°Oh.¡± Shit, how was this going to work with so many strangers around? ¡°I don¡¯t know what Lucas or Callum told you, Mags, but I have a¡­condition.¡±

    She looked puzzled. Well, hell, I¡¯m sure I could come up with something that would be believable to an eighteen-year-old wolf.

    ¡°I was born a wolf.¡± Lucas had told me this was rare to the point of being considered impossible. Only babies who underwent severe trauma in the womb could activate their lycanthropy early. Typically they didn¡¯t and died instead. I was an exception, but I couldn¡¯t explain to them the reasons for it. ¡°I¡­ Because of that I¡¯m more connected to the moon. I¡¯m fully nocturnal.¡±

    ¡°Wow.¡± Her eyes were wide with wonder, absorbing my words.

    Dominick held back near the door, listening to the web of half-truths I was weaving. I hoped he was committing them to memory because Lucas was going to have to maintain the lie for everyone when I didn¡¯t show up to any daylight events.

    ¡°I mustn¡¯t be disturbed during the day, do you understand?¡±

    She nodded vigorously. ¡°Of course.¡±

    When she walked out of the cabin, I could hear her muttering, ¡°A born wolf¡­¡± like I¡¯d told her I was a unicorn.

    Dominick didn¡¯t like my idea of leaving Lucas to sleep off his drunken stupor on the porch. I didn¡¯t like the idea of sharing a bed with a snoring, drooling mountain of inebriated werewolf. We compromised by dumping him on the couch in front of an imaginary fire. Dominick offered to sleep on the porch swing, which I didn¡¯t love, but I couldn¡¯t talk him out of it.

    When I climbed under the duvet, there was still an hour before the early rays of dawn would drag me down into my daylight sleep. I was grateful the design of the cabin meant the bedroom had no windows, but it also made the space a little claustrophobic.

    I shut my eyes so I wouldn¡¯t have to stare at the walls and fantasize they were closing in on me.

    A weight sank down beside me on the bed, making the springs groan.

    ¡°Managed to find your way off the couch?¡± I asked.

    In response, the duvet lifted and a muscular body slipped against my back, spooning me perfectly. I arched my back towards him, our bodies molding together like they were meant to be paired this way.

    ¡°Maybe we left you outside too long,¡± I said with a smile. ¡°For a werewolf, you¡¯re downright freezing.¡±

    Lips brushed my earlobe, and I could feel the curve of a smile. ¡°Then warm me up,¡± he replied.

    My eyes flew open, and I spun in the bed, still encased in the arms of a man who was decidedly not a werewolf, nor my fianc¨¦.

 Page 19

    ¡°Holden, what the fuck do you think you¡¯re doing? How did you get in here?¡±

    ¡°Bathroom window was open.¡±

    Jesus, these wolves certainly trusted the woods around them. Doors and windows left open. I was all for Southern hospitality, but didn¡¯t they know vampires were just lurk¡ª

    ¡°Wait a damned second. How did you manage that? Even if it was unlocked, no one invited you in.¡±

    He chuckled. ¡°It¡¯s not anyone¡¯s primary residence. It¡¯s not a home, just a guest suite. The invitation rule only applies to permanent dwellings, not temporary ones. It¡¯s the same reason we can go into hotels. Don¡¯t ask me how the metaphysics works¡­it just does.¡±

    He clasped his arms around my back and tugged me close. Though he wasn¡¯t hard, I felt the unmistakable pressure of his package through the thin material of my underwear. My brain said, no, no, no, but the hypersensitive parts of me below the waist said, oh, oh, oh.

    My vagina was always trying to be my undoing. It only understood pleasure and didn¡¯t tend to care who the penis belonged to.

    My brain was a little pickier.

    But only a little.

    Holden leaned in to steal a kiss. I head-butted him.

    ¡°Ow,¡± he groaned, his hand shooting to his forehead.

    ¡°You idiot. Lucas is in the other room, and there is a pack of more than thirty wolves hanging around outside, drunk off their asses. I¡¯m sure they¡¯d love to know a vampire was sneaking into the bed of an unsuspecting princess.¡±

    In spite of the pain I¡¯d inflicted¡ªwhich probably wasn¡¯t too much considering I hadn¡¯t given it my all and his skull was about as fragile as cast iron¡ªhe grinned like an idiot when I used the P word on myself.

    ¡°My apologies, your most serene princessyness.¡±

    ¡°Don¡¯t be an ass. You were born in England. You of anyone should know the right terminology.¡± And just like that he¡¯d made me forget I was angry with him. ¡°Seriously, though, what do you think you¡¯re doing?¡±

    ¡°Sig was pretty specific about me not letting you out of my sight.¡±

    ¡°I don¡¯t think he meant it literally.¡±

    ¡°I don¡¯t think Sig understands the finer points of English colloquialisms enough to mean it anything other than literally. For him ¡®don¡¯t let her out of your sight¡¯ can only mean one thing.¡±

    Shit.

    ¡°Shit.¡±

    ¡°Look,¡± he said, loosening his hold on me and propping his head on one hand. God he looked delicious with pillow-mussed hair. Also, where was his shirt? ¡°Eyes up here, Princess.¡±

    ¡°Well, stop it with the dramatic pauses and get to your point. I was falling asleep.¡±

    ¡°Sure you were.¡±

    ¡°Moonlight¡¯s ticking away, Chancery.¡±

    He rolled his eyes and clucked his tongue at me. ¡°I¡¯m not trying to ruin your little summit. There¡¯s a pigeonnier near the main house. The windows have been sealed, and it doesn¡¯t look like it¡¯s being used. I can hide there during the day without being exposed. But at night, I need to know where you are.¡±

    ¡°Can you be subtle about it?¡±

    ¡°I¡¯ve been here all night. Has anyone noticed me yet?¡±

    I raised my fist and tapped the wall behind us. ¡°Knock wood.¡±

    ¡°And did anyone notice me follow you here?¡±

    I dropped my hand. ¡°How did you manage that, exactly?¡±

    ¡°I actually didn¡¯t follow the cars.¡± He tapped my chest. ¡°Good old sentry-warden connection. I could have followed you across the country if I¡¯d needed to.¡±

    ¡°Well let¡¯s hope we never have to test that theory.¡± I chuckled, but was distracted by the notion that our connection acted like a homing beacon.

    Holden smirked then darted in when my guard was low. The kiss started out the way all stolen kisses do, with a brief press of the lips that acts as a beg for forgiveness and request for permission all at once. I was too startled by how he¡¯d gone in a second time that I didn¡¯t immediately push him off.

    When I didn¡¯t respond with violence, his lips firmed and forced my mouth to open, his tongue slipping in and curling along my own like a finger beckoning me to come-hither. Once more I arched against him.

    Traitorous vagina.

    His fingers dug into my hair, pulling my head close and angling my body towards the front of his. My lips felt almost painfully hot where they met his cool ones. When he pulled back, his fangs were exposed and his eyes had gone inky black.

    I let out a shuddering sigh and tongued my own canines. Sharp as the devil¡¯s wit.

    ¡°That¡¯s not what I meant when I asked if you could be subtle.¡±

    He pecked me on the cheek. ¡°It¡¯s okay. That wasn¡¯t part of my job. Completely pro bono.¡±

    ¡°Oh, so if it¡¯s free, it can be as in-your-face as you want?¡±

    I knew how poor my word choice was when his lips found mine again. He kissed me until I was breathless and panting all at the same time, and when his fang grazed my lip, I didn¡¯t fight it. He lapped at the thin stream of blood and let out a growl that made my insides twang like a plucked guitar string. If I didn¡¯t wise up, I was going to let this go much, much too far.

    It had already gone too far.

    ¡°You need to go,¡± I said.

    ¡°I do.¡±

    When I opened my eyes, he was gone, but the taste of him lingered on my lips.

    I was in serious trouble.

    Chapter Twenty

    It took two days before Callum called me in for a private audience.

    By that point I¡¯d explored most of the grounds and had run out of busywork to keep Magnolia occupied. She seemed to get worried when I didn¡¯t have a task for her, so I¡¯d started asking for random things to make her feel better. But I could only request so many newspapers or coffee filters before I started to look crazy.

    I was starting to feel crazy.

    In New York there was no shortage of things to keep me entertained. Even if I wanted a quiet night, I could still go for a jog in the Park or visit Calliope if I had a craving for some otherworldly company.

    In Louisiana my options were limited to reading, sitting on the porch swing or wandering. The pack was as cliquey as a prime-time high school, and I felt like an oddity when I spent time with them. Sure, the prodigal niece returns and all that, but they weren¡¯t fooled. I wasn¡¯t their princess in anything more than title because I didn¡¯t own the position. I didn¡¯t feel like a princess, so why should they respect me as one?

    When Magnolia came to get me after dinner on our third night, telling me Callum wanted to speak to me, I almost hugged her. It wasn¡¯t that I was dying for alone time with my uncle. Quite the opposite. But I was dying for a break from the nothingness of my night, and she¡¯d brought me a reprieve on a silver platter.

    Lucas and I had dined in the main house twice now, often enough I wasn¡¯t knocked on my ass by the grandeur when Magnolia guided me through the main floor and up to Callum¡¯s office. I had been exposed to the things money could buy. My time with Lucas had shown me there was a way to make wealth look impressive without being showy, and Callum did that as well as Lucas did. Must be something in the bloodlines.

    The furnishings in the main house were fancy, and I would have felt bad for spilling a drink on the couches, but they weren¡¯t antiques, so I at least wouldn¡¯t be afraid to sit on them. Paintings covered most of the wall space, with a few mirrors to break up the art. It was like being in Hogwarts. The frames were crammed so close together I half-expected the fishermen in one to hop into the fox hunt next to them.

    The other glaring absence was photos of Callum¡¯s relatives. Over the fireplace in the dining room was an oil portrait of Elmore, Vivienne, Mercy, Savannah and Callum from a much happier time. Or that was how the artist chose to make them appear. Happy. What a novel concept in a werewolf household.

    Magnolia left me outside the office door, and I knocked.

    ¡°Enter.¡±

    I stepped inside, and Callum looked up from the sheaf of papers he was reading. He smiled at me like I was someone who mattered to him. The warmth of his expression made me self-conscious and a little¡­pleased. I didn¡¯t like how he made me feel. He gave me the impression I could belong to a family I¡¯d long since given up hope of being a part of.

    I¡¯d always been a McQueen in name alone.

    The way Callum was smiling at me made me ache to be accepted by those who gave me my name.

    ¡°Mags said you wanted to see me¡­Your Majesty.¡±

    ¡°Please, Secret. I think we can put formality aside now.¡± He indicated the chair across from him, and I accepted the seat gratefully.

    ¡°Thank God. If I had to say that one more time, I was going to start using a British accent and demanding someone bring me a tiara.¡±

    He smiled but didn¡¯t laugh. Tough crowd.

    ¡°Do you know why I¡¯ve asked you here?¡±

    ¡°To welcome me to the flock?¡±

    Silence. Thank you, folks, I¡¯m here all week.

    ¡°No. I¡¯d like to talk to you about your notions of marrying Lucas Rain.¡±

    ¡°Notions? You say that like he¡¯s a celebrity and I have his name sketched on my Trapper Keeper in a heart. I am marrying him.¡± I held up my ring finger. ¡°We came here to respect your wishes, but from what I can tell this is a pretty outdated tradition. What do you have against my marrying Lucas? It doesn¡¯t get much better than a king, so you can¡¯t be rejecting him because of his status.¡±

    ¡°I don¡¯t reject Lucas.¡±

    ¡°So what¡¯s the problem? We¡¯re soul-bonded.¡±

    ¡°Ahh, yes, your soul-bond. Let¡¯s talk about that, shall we?¡±

    If I had hackles, they would have gone up when he said those words. ¡°What¡¯s there to talk about?¡±

    ¡°Where should I start? The fact that you are soul-bonded to a king, but living with his lieutenant.¡±

    ¡°Desmond is the queen¡¯s guard.¡±

    Callum raised a brow. He wasn¡¯t buying it. ¡°Mmhmm. A queen¡¯s guard who shares a bed with his queen? And what of this second soul-bond?¡±

 Page 20

    ¡°God, was there like a newsletter?¡±

    ¡°Wolves are a small community, Secret. Gossip travels fast.¡±

    ¡°So it seems.¡±

    ¡°I need to know if you understand the life you¡¯re getting into. Can you believe that?¡±

    ¡°I know what life I¡¯m getting into.¡±

    ¡°I don¡¯t think you do.¡± He leaned back, and the leather chair creaked under his weight. ¡°Will you humor an old man telling you a story?¡±

    ¡°Why? Do you know any old men with good stories?¡±

    He ignored me, which was probably best for both of us, and went on. ¡°When I was a very young man, not long after I was Awakened, there was a woman in our pack who was young and willful, not unlike yourself. She fought against her king and her pack every step of the way, believing the rules of conformity shouldn¡¯t apply to her. She felt she was too special to be bound by a hundred generations of tradition.¡±

    ¡°In other words, she was a teenager.¡±

    Callum smiled at this. ¡°Yes, very much so. Well, this girl fell in love, as girls of her age are wont to do. Girls of any age, really. We are all ruled by love, Secret, make no mistake of it. Love will make fools of us all in turn.¡±

    It was my turn to say nothing.

    ¡°The boy she loved was a good kid. Polite, charming, and he loved her a great deal. I¡¯m sure this feels like a story with a happy ending, but I¡¯m sorry to say it isn¡¯t. They loved each other, and through a twist of fate, she found herself pregnant at only seventeen years old.¡±

    My blood went cold.

    ¡°The boy wanted to take care of her, but¡­died tragically.¡±

    Yeah, I bet he did. Having a hole chewed in your neck by a vampire is a very specific kind of tragedy. I continued to sit in silence. Any urge to interrupt had vanished when he¡¯d told me the girl¡¯s age. I just wanted him to finish.

    ¡°After he was gone, we believed she would mourn but that her love for her child would be greater than the loss she felt for her man. He was human, after all, and he was destined to die before her and she knew it. But time passed, and when the child came, we knew something was wrong.¡±

    ¡°With the child?¡± Shit. Shut up, Secret.

    ¡°No, with her mother. Her grief over her loss had driven her past the point of consolation. She believed the child was an abomination, when it was just a beautiful little girl.¡± He smiled sadly. ¡°She gave all of herself to the wrong man, and when she lost him, she lost everything that made her who she was. His death broke her, and she never fit together again.¡±

    ¡°I¡¯m not my mother,¡± I whispered.

    ¡°No. I could have told you that, my dear. You are stronger than Mercy ever was. Your identity is not entwined with your love for the king, that¡¯s as plain as day.¡±

    ¡°Then why did you need to tell me her story?¡±

    ¡°Because I don¡¯t think you¡¯re marrying Lucas for the right reasons. I want you to think about what you¡¯re doing. This is something you can¡¯t change once it¡¯s done.¡±

    ¡°I¡¯m prepared. The mate bond has already been activated.¡±

    ¡°Yes.¡±

    ¡°I didn¡¯t make this decision lightly. I know what I¡¯m doing, and it won¡¯t break me.¡±

    ¡°It may not break you, but consider the story from another angle. What if you are not the girl? What if you are the dead boy and the fractures you are creating are destroying someone else?¡±

    Callum could have reached his hand inside my mouth and squeezed my heart to pulp with his bare hands and it would have made my chest hurt less than his words had.

    ¡°What are you talking about?¡± I was barely able to wheeze out the sentence.

    ¡°I don¡¯t think you should marry Lucas because I don¡¯t think he¡¯s the one you¡¯re meant to be with.¡±

    I had started shaking my head before he was finished saying Lucas¡¯s name. ¡°You¡¯re wrong. Everyone has said it¡¯s perfect. I¡¯m royalty, so is he. I¡¯m pack protector. We¡¯re soul-bonded, and now our mate bond is active. I¡¯ve proven I deserve to be his wife.¡±

    ¡°I¡¯m not disputing whether or not you deserve it. You do deserve to be at the head of a pack. I know all about how you dispatched Marcus Sullivan. I know, too, you were forced to fight your own mother in the end, who was madder than ever thanks to her attachment to yet another wrong man.¡± Callum wove his fingers together and rested them on his stomach, still toned even though he was pushing forty. Fat werewolves didn¡¯t exist. ¡°You are Alpha material, Secret.¡±

    I fought against the swell of pride that grew larger in my chest. This guy was playing me like he was Hendrix and I was a guitar. He¡¯d found a weakness I hadn¡¯t known I had, and he was poking at it until it was raw.

    ¡°I don¡¯t understand your problem then.¡±

    ¡°You won¡¯t be the Alpha anymore if you marry him. He will crush that part of you.¡±

    This made me laugh. ¡°Callum, I know we¡¯ve just met, but I¡¯m going to be honest with you if I can.¡±

    ¡°Please.¡±

    ¡°You think you know me because of what the werewolf grapevine has told you. We¡¯re family, and I respect you think that means you know what¡¯s best for me. I can almost appreciate it. But you need to understand something about me. If I¡¯m meant to be Alpha, if that¡¯s the misguided destiny the Fates have chosen for me¡­¡± The lifelines on my palms felt like they were burning. ¡°If it¡¯s my path, then no man will set me off course. Not even a king. Only I decide.¡±

    And I would have to decide. Calliope had told me there was no way around it, short life or long, I couldn¡¯t escape the decision. I had thought choosing to marry Lucas had made the choice for me, but I was still deeply entrenched in my vampire half, and as long as I had a foot in each world, my choice would remain up in the air. My destiny was a coin tossed high, and eventually it would come back down and I would know¡ªwolf or vampire. I couldn¡¯t be both forever.

    ¡°I like you,¡± Callum said. ¡°Things would have been very different for you if Vivienne hadn¡¯t taken you from us.¡±

    Sure. I¡¯d be dead.

    ¡°Well, what¡¯s past is past. But if you have a time machine, I¡¯d be willing to give your version a go.¡±

    ¡°Do you know why she took you?¡± He sounded genuinely curious.

    ¡°She thought because Mercy had abandoned me the pack would shun me. She was afraid for me. Of what a young teenaged king might do to an unwanted baby.¡± I shot him a look.

    ¡°A baby who was a born wolf?¡±

    Looks like my story for Magnolia had made it all the way to the top. ¡°Yes.¡±

    ¡°No, my dear, we wouldn¡¯t have shunned you for that.¡±

    I shrugged. ¡°I can¡¯t know now if that was true then.¡±

    ¡°Well, why would you be any different?¡±

    ¡°Different?¡±

    ¡°We didn¡¯t shun Mercy¡¯s other children.¡±

    Chapter Twenty-One

    Inside my skull, behind the intense headache that had blossomed out of nowhere, a thousand different versions of what the fuck were bouncing against the sensitive tissue of my brain, bruising me with their sharp, jagged edges.

    What came out when I opened my mouth was, ¡°Wuhhhuuueeeezzzzeeee.¡±

    ¡°I guess she didn¡¯t get around to telling you about them when she saw you in New York.¡±

    ¡°She was too busy trying to shred my face.¡±

    ¡°Yes, well. Not the best time for her to deliver such news.¡± He gave a half shrug.

    ¡°Them. You said plural. How many bastard pups has Mercy kicked to the curb?¡± My heart was hammering against my sternum. I often found that snark was a great way to mask other real emotions. I didn¡¯t have a name for what I was feeling now. Terror¡­ Excitement¡­

    It was motherfucking hope.

    ¡°Three. You were first, of course. Then about four years after she abandoned you, she came back seeking refuge. She had the twins with her then, only a few weeks old. We took her in because she was a rightful member of the pack and she was afraid for the safety of her babies. By morning, Mercy was gone, and we raised her pups as part of the pack.¡±

    ¡°Twins.¡±

    ¡°Yes. You¡¯ve met your brother.¡±

    I choked when I tried to swallow.

    ¡°Ben,¡± Callum clarified. ¡°I sent him with Amelia as one of my emissaries in February.¡±

    Oh my God. I¡¯d shaken hands with my own brother and hadn¡¯t had the faintest idea of who he was. I remembered how I¡¯d marveled about us sharing the same last name and wondered how much family I had down here I didn¡¯t know about.

    All the while my family had been within reach.

    ¡°And your sister¡­¡±

    I thought of the ages, my heart throbbing. ¡°Magnolia?¡±

    Callum laughed then. ¡°No, no. Magnolia is Amelia¡¯s daughter. Your sister is part of the reason I asked you here.¡±

    ¡°Why?¡±

    ¡°Eugenia, your sister, took on the change at the same time Ben did. Afterwards, Eugenia became difficult. Not like a normal teenager, but something different. The Awakening altered her somehow.¡±

    ¡°How?¡±

    ¡°We haven¡¯t been able to find out. Within the year she ran away. We know where she is, but we can¡¯t get her to come home.¡±

    ¡°You¡¯re the king, she¡¯s pack. It can¡¯t be too hard.¡±

    ¡°You of all people should know nothing is that simple with high-spirited, teenaged werewolves.¡± He raised one brow and gave me a meaningful look. ¡°She is with family, which is enough for me to believe she¡¯s safe. But she is eighteen now. It¡¯s time for her to come back, and that¡¯s where you come in.¡±

    ¡°How am I going to convince an eighteen-year-old to come home if you¡¯ve already failed?¡±

    ¡°How you do it isn¡¯t my concern. I¡¯m sure you have ways of being very persuasive.¡±

    Sure, but they usually involved broken fingers or silver weapons of some kind. I didn¡¯t want that to be my introduction to my sister.

 Page 21

    My sister. I rolled the words around in my head over and over until they almost lost meaning. But they never lost their power.

    ¡°You said you know where she is. She¡¯s with family?¡±

    ¡°Yes.¡± He ran one big hand through his curls and shook his head in a bemused and exhausted way. ¡°She¡¯s with Vivienne¡¯s mother. Your great-grandmother.¡±

    Jesus, how much had Grandmere been keeping from me? I was willing to give her a pass on the twins since I doubted there was any way for her to know about them unless Mercy herself had told Grandmere. Which was about as likely as a monkey sprouting wings out of its butt.

    But her own mother was here and I didn¡¯t know. I had a living great-grandmother and I didn¡¯t know. My family had gone from one to a full tree in a very short span of time. Too short. I was having a hell of a time processing it all.

    ¡°So you want me to skip through the woods to great-grandmother¡¯s house and be the Big Bad Wolf to bring Red Riding Hood home?¡±

    ¡°I wouldn¡¯t have phrased it like that.¡±

    ¡°No doubt.¡±

    ¡°Your great-grandmother isn¡¯t the kind of woman you should underestimate. I presume I won¡¯t be blowing your mind if I tell you my mother is a witch?¡±

    ¡°You could tell me she¡¯s a dragon and I wouldn¡¯t be fazed at this point. But yes, I know she¡¯s a witch.¡±

    ¡°Well, her type of magic isn¡¯t solely learned. Vivienne is a witch by birth, which isn¡¯t common. Her mother is well-known in these parts as a witch of impressive power. She is called La Sorci¨¨re. You must treat her magic as you would any weapon. Respect it.¡±

    Magic was the one weapon I couldn¡¯t turn on the wielder and use to my advantage. I had a healthy dose of respect for the stuff. But Grandmere was in her sixties, meaning La Sorci¨¨re had to be pushing eighty, or more. What could an octogenarian really do to me?

    I knocked on Callum¡¯s desk to protect myself from my own cocky thoughts.

    ¡°Bring home Eugenia, that¡¯s it?¡±

    ¡°Bring her home and I will give my blessing to yours and Lucas¡¯s marriage.¡±

    I let out a breath. ¡°That¡¯s it?¡±

    ¡°That¡¯s it.¡±

    Chapter Twenty-Two

    When I stumbled out the back door, drunk on too much information, Magnolia was waiting for me. She appeared concerned, so I guess I must have looked as good as I felt.

    ¡°Are you okay?¡± She touched my arm as we moved towards the path back to my cabin.

    ¡°Are we ever okay?¡± I stopped walking in the middle of the trail and put a hand on Magnolia¡¯s arm. ¡°I need to go for a walk. If you see Lucas, will you let him know?¡±

    ¡°Of course.¡±

    I walked past the houses and into the woods beyond. The forest here was unlike anything I¡¯d ever encountered. In Manitoba, where I¡¯d grown up, the woods were dense and populated with evergreen and birch. The trees were plentiful, but none of them radiated the age of these oak. In New York there were trees, but Central Park wasn¡¯t a real forest. No matter how deep in you were, you could still see skyline.

    Here, the space between the trees was wide open, but the oak branches spread wide and heavy, blotting out the moon. Their arms created a canopy of spring buds, making the area beneath feel warmer somehow. In spite of the darkness of creeping shadow, I felt protected. Once I¡¯d made my way through, I found the creek on the edge of Callum¡¯s property and sat on its bank, feeling the dampness of the grass seep into my jeans.

    Holden sat down next to me.

    ¡°Have a nice chat with your uncle?¡±

    ¡°I have a sister. And a brother.¡±

    The vampire whistled his appreciation for the bomb I¡¯d dropped. ¡°Instant family.¡±

    ¡°Right?¡±

    ¡°So, you are unhappy? You look like someone slapped you.¡±

    ¡°I feel like someone slapped me.¡±

    ¡°You were a fan of being an only child?¡± he teased.

    ¡°I don¡¯t think I¡¯m ready to make jokes about this yet.¡±

    He didn¡¯t apologize, but he did say, ¡°Okay.¡±

    ¡°Callum wants me to find my sister. He won¡¯t agree to my marrying Lucas unless I do.¡±

    ¡°So? She¡¯s a girl. You¡¯ve found girls before.¡±

    ¡°I don¡¯t like it.¡±

    ¡°What¡¯s to like?¡±

    ¡°If someone had come after me when I was young, I would have thought they were doing it to kill me. That¡¯s what I believed Callum¡¯s pack was capable of, and I still think I might have been right. If Eugenia wanted to come home, she would have done it by now. Why should she trust me? I don¡¯t even know why Callum wants her.¡±

    ¡°Werewolf motivations are the most obvious things in the world. Everything comes back to pride and power. If the girl was part of your uncle¡¯s pack and left without his permission, it makes him look weak. If he can get you to bring her back, he shows the pack he has made you loyal and he still has power over his own kin.¡±

    I stared at him, mouth slack. ¡°Did you pull that out of your ass?¡±

    ¡°Yes. But it sounded good, didn¡¯t it?¡±

    I nodded and looked back at the sluggish water made beautiful by the glimmer of moonlight dancing over its surface. ¡°You¡¯re right about one thing. It¡¯s always pride and power. Pride, power and pack. The three things that matter to wolves.¡±

    ¡°They¡¯re simple creatures.¡±

    ¡°So are vampires¡ªblood, sex and subservience are all they care about.¡±

    Holden smiled. ¡°I know one or two who don¡¯t care about sex.¡±

    I made a pfft noise and rolled my eyes. Before I¡¯d left Callum¡¯s office he¡¯d explained that La Sorci¨¨re made her home in the Maurepas swamplands, the big-ass national park we¡¯d driven through before we hit Baton Rouge. The problem with Maurepas, he¡¯d told me, was it was not only massive, but the witch had a nasty habit of shifting her location. It made her¡­tricky to find.

    ¡°I¡¯ve always wanted to tour a swamp,¡± I said sarcastically. ¡°Number twenty-seven on my bucket list is Go on a Witch Hunt in a Swamp.¡±

    ¡°Have fun with that.¡± Holden made a disgusted face every time I said swamp. For a man who had spent his human life shoveling shit for a living, he sure had become a snob in his post-death years. Frankly I was shocked he was willing to sit on the grass in his Hugo Boss pants.

    ¡°I have to get the girl.¡± I gave him a loaded smile and leaned in close. At first his eyes narrowed and his lips curved upwards in anticipation¡ªuntil he saw the look in my eyes and then he scuttled backwards out of my reach.

    ¡°You have to get the girl. There was nothing in your promise about bringing a vampire along to help you.¡±

    I fished my cell phone out of my pocket and held it to my ear. ¡°Hi, Sig. Yeah, Louisiana is swell. I¡¯ll give your love to Lestat and Louis. Now, about how Holden was supposed to not let me out of his sight.¡±

    My phone chirped, telling me there was no signal.

    ¡°I hate you,¡± Holden growled.

    Point made, I slipped the useless phone back into my jeans. ¡°If you can use it as an excuse to show up here, I¡¯m going to use it as an excuse to make you come with me into the godforsaken swamp.¡±

    ¡°I suppose I should be thankful you didn¡¯t flash your Tribunal ace for once.¡±

    ¡°That was my next stop on the guilt-trip train.¡±

    ¡°So you and me¡­alone in the swamp.¡± He waggled his brows suggestively, and I sneered.

    ¡°Yes. Nothing says romance like slogging through the murky water while the alligators look on. Be still my heart. Take me now.¡±

    He darted in to hold me to the suggestion, but I put my hand up and pushed his face away. ¡°You¡¯re worse than a horny teenager.¡±

    ¡°I always thought you Americans used vacations as an excuse to sleep with handsome new men.¡±

    ¡°You¡¯re an old man,¡± I reminded him. ¡°And I thought you Brits were all uptight about sex. I guess we were both mistaken. Now stop trying to kiss me.¡±

    ¡°Then stop kissing me back.¡±

    ¡°That was one time.¡±

    He gave me a look that plainly said, Let¡¯s not bullshit ourselves, here.

    ¡°Well, however many times it was, it won¡¯t happen again.¡±

    ¡°We¡¯ll see.¡±

    I got to my feet and wiped off the butt of my jeans. ¡°I need to go tell Lucas what Callum asked me to do.¡± An involuntary sigh escaped my lips. ¡°Can¡¯t wait for that discussion.¡±

    Holden didn¡¯t say anything, but I knew all too well he¡¯d be listening in on the whole damned thing.

    ¡°Absolutely not.¡± Lucas had been sitting on the couch when I started my story. When I got to the part about my siblings, he¡¯d shifted to the edge. By the time I¡¯d told him about Callum¡¯s request, he was on his feet and pacing in front of the fireplace like a wild animal trapped in a cage.

    ¡°I¡¯m not asking permission. I¡¯m telling you what I¡¯m doing.¡±

    He stopped prowling. ¡°Don¡¯t you see how dangerous this is? Not three days ago you were certain Callum was in league with your mother and working on a plan to have you killed. Now he wants you to go into the swamp alone, and you¡¯re going?¡±

    ¡°I don¡¯t think he has anything to do with the attempts on my life. Not anymore.¡±

    ¡°And why is that? He puts an arm around you, calls you family and suddenly he¡¯s innocent? When did you get so naive?¡±

    ¡°Hey, let¡¯s not go there.¡± My hands were balled in fists by my sides. I would love to have one conversation with him that didn¡¯t end in a fight, but it didn¡¯t look as if this would be the one.

    ¡°Don¡¯t act like an idiot, and I won¡¯t treat you like one.¡±

    I crossed the room with such speed he was still looking at where I had been standing when I slapped him across the face. If I¡¯d been trying to hurt him, I would have punched him instead, but I was just reacting to the sting of his words by inflicting a little pain of my own.

 Page 22

    The silence between us after the smack of my hand meeting his face was almost deafening.

    ¡°I¡¯m doing this for us, you asshole.¡±

    ¡°Let me come with you, then.¡±

    I shook my head and took a step back, not wanting to be touching. I couldn¡¯t think right when I was close to him. Our physical chemistry was the kind that caused explosions, and we were both running hot. I needed to stay level-headed, and the second he touched me my rage would flicker out and the heat would become something different.

    That would be our whole lives together. Somewhere between driving each other mental and having mind-blowing make-up sex. I was all for the sex part, but right now I had a point I needed to make.

    ¡°I can¡¯t bring you. I need her to trust me if I¡¯m going to get her to come back with me, and if I go busting into the woods with the whole damned pack in tow, she¡¯ll never agree to come. Plus, we¡¯ve been here three days and no one has tried to kill me yet. I think it stands to reason whoever has it in for me is still in New York.¡±

    He couldn¡¯t argue with that. If someone wanted to kill me out here, there was plenty of opportunity. One eagle-eyed sniper in the oak trees was all it would take. Hell, if Callum was involved, he could have made any number of unfortunate accidents happen. Instead he welcomed me into his pack and asked me to do one favor.

    ¡°He said he¡¯ll give us his blessing. You once said you would do anything for the pack. Let me do this. If I can bring her back, I will have helped strengthen our pack.¡±

    ¡°Say that again.¡±

    ¡°Say what?¡±

    ¡°The last part.¡±

    ¡°Our pack?¡±

    Lucas let out a breath I hadn¡¯t realized he was holding in. ¡°You really are doing this for us, aren¡¯t you?¡±

    ¡°I¡¯m not running into the fucking swamp for fun.¡±

    ¡°Can I convince you to take Jackson?¡±

    I shook my head. ¡°No. But I promise you I¡¯ll be safe.¡± I obviously couldn¡¯t tell him I¡¯d have a guard with me because he would shit bricks and die if I announced I¡¯d been hiding Holden in a crumbling pigeon coop this whole time.

    ¡°I¡¯d never have been able to talk you out of it anyway.¡±

    ¡°No. But if you¡¯re starting to understand that, it means this marriage thing might actually work.¡± I smiled and crossed the room again, only this time it was to hug him instead of smacking him around. ¡°Thank you.¡±

    ¡°Just come back to me in one piece. I paid a hundred grand for wedding dresses. I¡¯d like to see you wear one of them.¡±

    Chapter Twenty-Three

    I picked up Holden at the St. Francisville city limits, far enough from Callum¡¯s compound I didn¡¯t think I was being watched. We drove in silence because I was sick of the classic-rock radio station, and there was nothing I felt needed to be said.

    It took us a little over an hour to get from St. Francisville to Maurepas, and the only time Holden spoke on the whole trip was just beyond Baton Rouge when he not-so-politely reminded me that if he¡¯d been allowed to drive we would be there by now.

    Night was waning and I didn¡¯t feel like tempting fate by going into the swamp tonight. An old budget motel was on the side of the highway about ten minutes from the main park entrance. The motel¡¯s backyard slopped into the edges of the swamp itself, and a homemade sign next to the office said Watch for Gators.

    A balding man with a beer gut and a faceful of acne scars gave Holden and me a key to room 5 and kept sneaking glances past us out the window to the parking lot where we¡¯d left the Mercedes I¡¯d borrowed from Callum. I was in jeans, but Holden was wearing a smart blazer and looked like he¡¯d sprung to life from the pages of a fashion magazine. The desk clerk appeared to trust us about as far as his twig-thin arms could throw us.

    ¡°You folks planning on staying long?¡±

    ¡°Just for the day. We¡¯ve had a long drive and we¡¯re hoping to get some sleep before we make our way to New Orleans,¡± I lied smoothly. ¡°We might want to go into the swamp tomorrow. Can you recommend a good tour?¡±

    The man gawked at me as if I¡¯d requested a guided tour of the seven levels of Hell but handed me a crumpled pamphlet that had been crudely made on a home printer. It said Swamp Tours! and even I thought the exclamation mark looked like it was trying too hard.

    ¡°¡¯At¡¯s Arnie¡¯s tour. Ain¡¯t much, but he got a boat an¡¯ he¡¯s a dead eye if you run into any gators.¡±

    ¡°Well, that¡¯s a promising pitch,¡± Holden said.

    ¡°Sounds great, thank you.¡± I slipped the pamphlet into my purse, next to my gun. ¡°Have a great night.¡±

    Grabbing Holden by the arm, I dragged him from the office, but not before he said, ¡°Can¡¯t keep her off me.¡±

    In the room I found the phone had no dial tone.

    ¡°It¡¯s like we¡¯ve stumbled into the premise for a terrible horror movie,¡± I grumbled, slamming the handset down in frustration.

    ¡°Yeah, unsuspecting couple alone in a motel run into vampires and¡­oh wait. We¡¯re the vampires.¡±

    ¡°Have you ever seen a horror movie? If you¡¯re at a budget motel next to the swamp, it¡¯s not vampires you need to worry about. It¡¯s like¡­sludge creatures or inbred mutants.¡±

    Holden flopped next to me on the sagging bed. The headboard had one of those Magic Fingers vibrating features, but I didn¡¯t think the bed could handle anything so forceful without collapsing.

    ¡°I¡¯ll take the mutants,¡± Holden said with a chuckle. ¡°I bet their blood tastes great.¡±

    ¡°Freak. Give me your phone.¡± I held out my hand.

    ¡°Say please.¡±

    ¡°Please.¡±

    He put his cell in my open palm, and I was relieved to see at least one of us had decent coverage. My phone had stopped beeping about service and had begun to laugh at me whenever I turned it on. It was crammed inside my purse so I didn¡¯t yield to the urge to destroy it. Brand new and totally useless.

    I dialed Grandmere¡¯s number by heart and listened to the rings, hoping she wasn¡¯t out doing some spring ritual. She tended to sleep irregular hours, a habit she¡¯d picked up raising me, and even though I¡¯d been gone for years, she still hadn¡¯t gone back to sleeping through the night.

    ¡°¡¯Allo?¡± Her Cajun accent sang through the line and gripped me like a long-distance hug.

    ¡°Grandmere, it¡¯s me.¡±

    ¡°Mon ch¨¦rie! Comment ?a va? Ou et toi?¡±

    ¡°I¡¯m good,¡± I replied in English. ¡°And I¡¯m in Louisiana.¡±

    For a moment I thought the connection had dropped, then she spoke again, her accent thicker somehow. ¡°You¡¯re with the pack?¡±

    ¡°Callum asked Lucas and me to come down. He¡¯s¡­hesitant to let us go through with the wedding.¡± For the next ten minutes I told her everything I had learned in the last week. About Ben and Eugenia, and while I skipped over the attempts on my life, she was still pretty wound up by the end of my story.

    ¡°Grandbabies!¡± she chirped.

    Leave it to her to get only one thing out of the whole conversation¡­that she had more grandchildren.

    ¡°You might have mentioned sooner that your mother was a big-bad witch living in the swamps.¡±

    ¡°Oh, b¨¦b¨¦, how was I to know? My mother, we was¡­wild. She was always running away. Even now, as an old woman, she still hides from me. She gave me my magic. I need nothing else from her.¡±

    ¡°But¡ª¡±

    ¡°Non, no but. You and your mama are not best friends, oui? Why should you expect me to plait braids with mine while we make potions? Family, it is not always pretty, ch¨¦rie, you know this.¡±

    I had to give her that. ¡°What¡¯s her name, your mother.¡±

    ¡°Je ne sais pas.¡±

    ¡°What do you mean you don¡¯t know?¡±

    ¡°She is mad. She believed to know her name meant one could steal her power. If she gave no name to anyone, she could not be the target of any vengeful magic. I never knew her real name, and likewise I had no name until my father gave me one. She turned me over to him after that. Said she could not trust someone weakened by a name.¡±

    Clearly insanity ran in my family.

    ¡°B¨¦b¨¦?¡±

    ¡°Oui?¡± I slipped into the habit of speaking French with her too easily.

    ¡°Do you have the necklace I gave you? The tiger¡¯s iron?¡±

    The necklace made me cranky because she¡¯d once used it to help a sorcerer find me, but I knew she¡¯d never have lied to me about what it did. Tiger¡¯s iron warded against evil, and considering how much trouble I found myself in lately, I¡¯d started carrying it with me again after my first assassination attempt on the highway. Fat lot of good it had done me in the bridal salon¡­though I suppose making it out alive had to count for something. Currently it was in a zippered pouch inside my bag. I wasn¡¯t wearing it, which might have dulled the magic.

    ¡°I do.¡±

    ¡°You put it on before you go looking for La Sorci¨¨re.¡±

    ¡°Grandmere, you sound scared.¡±

    ¡°I am. You wear that necklace, girl.¡±

    ¡°Why?¡±

    ¡°Because if you ever needed a ward against evil, now is the time, b¨¦b¨¦.¡±

    Chapter Twenty-Four

    Arnie the swamp tour guide was the oldest living human I¡¯d ever seen.

    His lower jaw had shifted forward, giving him a toothless underbite. His nose was a huge, bulbous point jutting out from an otherwise sunken face. When he spoke, his voice was barely above a whisper, and the sound of his lips smacking against his gums was louder than whatever he was saying.

    His boat was a low wooden skiff that looked like it might sink under our collective weight. Arnie hiked his overalls up over his bare chest, a tuft of white hair peeking out from the bib. When he shuffled his way to the boat with one giant oar in hand, I turned to Holden with naked concern written over my features.

    Holden imitated the twanging banjos from Deliverance.

 Page 23

    ¡°Sure, that pop-culture reference you know.¡±

    ¡°You got a pretty mouth, girl.¡± He winked.

    ¡°I hope you get eaten by a crocodile.¡±

    ¡°Alligator,¡± he corrected.

    Arnie cleared his throat and angled his chin at the empty bench in the skiff.

    ¡°Close your eyes and pretend it¡¯s Venice,¡± Holden suggested.

    The moon was only a few days short of being full, and there was enough space between the sycamore trees and their blanket coverings of Spanish moss for a little light from the sky to make it all the way down to the brackish green water. Along the shore, the reflective eyes of wild animals shone like fireflies before vanishing.

    We¡¯d had to pay a premium for the night tour.

    Arnie flicked on a spotlight mounted at the front of the boat, and a hundred yards away something splashed off the shoreline to escape being seen. I wondered how I would fare in one-on-one combat against an alligator. I didn¡¯t particularly want to find out.

    Holden plunked onto the bench and threw a booted foot over the side of the boat. ¡°Come on, dear, let¡¯s not hold up the tour.¡±

    ¡°¡¯Urry up,¡± Arnie said. Smack, smack. He spit a wad of chewing tobacco into the water. Did they make a geriatric version of the stuff? Something you could gum into pulp when you didn¡¯t have teeth left to chew with?

    I sat next to Holden and pulled my leather jacket close around me. My gun was holstered beneath it, and I was glad to have it. I¡¯d even thrown subtlety to the wind and strapped my dagger to my thigh. Arnie took one look at the Japanese-style knife, like a mini katana, and rolled his eyes. He must have thought I had a fantasy about being Angelina Jolie in Tomb Raider.

    Once we were both in place, Arnie used the oar to push us off, and I was surprised by how sturdy the boat felt once we were on the move. Holden pulled his foot back inside after Arnie gave him a warning smack with the oar. Guess we weren¡¯t going gator hunting with Gucci loafers tonight. What a shame.

    We floated farther from Arnie¡¯s brightly lit cabin and into the true dark of the swamp with only our spotlight and the moon to guide us. In the real darkness on either side of the skiff I felt like unseen eyes were watching us. I shuddered.

    No wonder no one wanted night tours. The swamp at night was fucking scary.

    Mosquitoes buzzed around our heads, hungry with a bloodlust that would put the most menacing vampire to shame. Holden didn¡¯t seem bothered by them, and I wondered if his absentee pulse had a role in that. If avoiding bug bites was a perk to the immortal hereafter, I might have to consider my destiny a bit more carefully.

    From the dark spaces the spotlight couldn¡¯t penetrate, night birds sang to each other, calling out warnings over our intrusion into their peaceful evening. More unseen animals slid into the water, and I wasn¡¯t sure if they were doing it to escape us or to follow us more closely.

    The farther into the swamp we drifted, the quieter and quieter it became, until all the calls and answers were distant echoes, and all I could hear were Arnie¡¯s raspy breaths and the slice of the paddle in the water. For half an hour those were the only diversions in an otherwise eerie silence.

    ¡°¡¯Ere,¡± Arnie announced as the skiff bumped up onto something solid. He added, ¡°Out.¡±

    ¡°Out?¡± I looked to Holden. ¡°We can¡¯t be done.¡±

    Arnie spit into the water and grunted. ¡°¡¯Splore.¡±

    A dark mound of an island unfolded from the night air once I blinked away the haze of the spotlight. ¡°You want us to go exploring?¡±

    The guide shrugged a bony shoulder up, and it sank down immediately like his strings had been cut. ¡°¡¯Ave fun.¡± A suggestive wink to Holden.

    He had to be kidding.

    ¡°What harm can it do?¡± Holden said before I could throttle Arnie. ¡°We might find something to point us in the right direction.¡±

    Since neither of us had the foggiest clue in hell where to look for La Sorci¨¨re, I had to admit touring the small island out of reach of Arnie¡¯s beady little eyes was as good a place to start as any.

    Holden climbed ashore first then helped me out.

    ¡°¡¯Ifteen minutes. Here.¡± Arnie tapped the boat with his oar.

    I led the way, even though Holden¡¯s nocturnal eyesight was better than mine. Finding Eugenia was my task, and I felt it was essential I lead us to her. Besides, it would be good to know someone who could see in the dark was walking behind me if any unexpected surprises popped up.

    After five minutes of weaving through overgrown vines and slipping on the stinky muck covering the ground, I lost sight of the spotlight on Arnie¡¯s boat.

    Had we gone that far? The island didn¡¯t seem big enough for us to wander so far we¡¯d be unable to see the million-watt bulb.

    A few yards ahead of us the bushes rustled. Twigs snapped as the weight of a body in motion bent them underfoot.

    Holden and I stopped walking simultaneously.

    ¡°Shit,¡± I said, before stumbling backwards into Holden¡¯s arms. ¡°Go back. Go back.¡± I didn¡¯t want to know what was hanging out on a pitch-black island in the middle of a swamp. We made it towards the shore at a run. I was in the middle of shouting a warning to Arnie when we cleared the thin tree line and came upon emptiness.

    No boat.

    No Arnie.

    I scanned the shoreline for the light from his skiff, but there was nothing there. We¡¯d been abandoned.

    From the heart of the island the sound of one creature walking was joined by a chorus of more footsteps. A half-dozen distinctive individuals were moving in our direction from various points in the brush. Holden pushed me behind him, and my foot splashed into the murky water. A few feet to my left something huge slipped into the abyss.

    ¡°Holden,¡± I whispered, ¡°we need to get away from the water.¡±

    He allowed us a foot or two of clearance, but it wasn¡¯t enough to make me feel secure. I watched the Discovery Channel. In this scenario I was the stupid gazelle bending over to get a drink right before the monster jumped out of the water and ate me headfirst.

    In the trees, the movements stopped as suddenly as they¡¯d started. The thrashing sounds of predators on the hunt died away, and all I could hear was my own breathing and the chirp of nocturnal insects.

    We had to get off this island somehow, and swimming sure as hell wasn¡¯t an option.

    The first man materialized from the woods as smoothly and soundlessly as a ghost. Except he reeked of wolf. He skin was almond brown and streaked with a brackish green mud. The same mud caked his hair into a makeshift mohawk. At some point, probably years ago, his pants had been jeans, but now they resembled a denim grass skirt that barely concealed his privates. The shredded jeans were the only clothing he wore.

    Down the shoreline another man appeared, his hair caked into dreadlocks by the same muddy goop. He was wearing a loincloth fashioned from a pair of LSU sweatpants. Dark patterns were smeared across his chest in a display that looked like it had been drawn by a five-year-old.

    Another two men appeared behind the one with dreadlocks. If I hadn¡¯t been able to smell the wolf scent coming off them, the yellow glow in the eyes of the newcomers would have been a pretty obvious tip-off as to what they were.

    Four-on-two was nothing. I didn¡¯t care how tough these guys looked. I had a vampire sentry with me and I probably could have handled these guys on my own. There were on the sickly side of skinny.

    I was still more concerned about the alligators in the water and how Holden and I were going to get back to the mainland. That was until another six men emerged behind the guy with the mohawk. This new development skewed the odds a little.

    ¡°Arnie brought us a present,¡± the one with dreadlocks said. ¡°And dinner.¡±

    All ten moved forwards as one.

    ¡°Get back, you mange-infested freaks,¡± I said, and snarled at them.

    This gave them pause. ¡°She smells like wolf,¡± Dreadlocks announced.

    ¡°Keen nose, doggy. You guys smell like shit.¡±

    Mohawk smiled and stepped closer. Holden and I had nowhere to go unless we wanted to take a moonlight swim with some hungry reptiles. I was thankful for the cover of Holden¡¯s body. It meant the mutts couldn¡¯t see me un-holster my gun.

    ¡°You¡¯re a long way from the pack,¡± Mohawk said, and laughed. ¡°You¡¯re with the Loups-Garous now.¡±

    ¡°I don¡¯t care who you are. Let us leave and no one gets hurt.¡±

    They laughed in unison. If they didn¡¯t smell lupine, I would have guessed hyena from the mad chuckling they were doing. I slid around Holden and put my loaded gun in the open laughing mouth of Mohawk.

    ¡°I¡¯m sorry. I don¡¯t think you took me seriously the first time I said it. You will let us go.¡± My tone was pure threat.

    One of the wolfs let out a short yip, and I made the mistake of believing it was a sound of concern until more rustling from the woods broke my concentration and another dozen wolves¡ªall men in various states of undress¡ªjoined their brothers on the beach.

    The Loups-Garous now outnumbered us on a level that put Holden and me in a position where we couldn¡¯t win. I could blow off Mohawk¡¯s head right now, but the clip didn¡¯t hold twenty-two bullets, and I couldn¡¯t reload and achieve perfect aim fast enough to take down the ones closest to me before someone took me out.

    I pulled the gun out of Mohawk¡¯s mouth and returned to Holden.

    The new arrivals all had eyes that gleamed yellow, barely concealing the beasts within. They looked hungry, but the kind of hunger varied depending on whether they were focusing on Holden or on me. I held my gun ready even though I doubted I¡¯d get a chance to use it.

    ¡°Now would be a good time to start humming the Deliverance theme.¡±

    Holden¡¯s arm snaked around my waist, and he pulled me close, showing possession. I don¡¯t think these guys cared if he called dibs.

    ¡°What¡¯s the plan?¡± he whispered.

    ¡°Don¡¯t die.¡±

    Chapter Twenty-Five

    One day, provided I lived long enough, I was going to make a list of the top-ten worst experiences of my life. Being dragged by my hair through the mucky, disgusting swamp underbrush while listening to a pack of feral werewolves talk about who would rape me first was a sure contender for the number-six spot on that list.

 Page 24

    Number five if they let the one who kept talking about giving it to me up the ass got first crack.

    Considering a vampire sadist had once gotten his jollies by sticking a finger in my open neck wound, it took a lot to break into the top five. Not to mention, if any of these Mad Maxian savages so much as pulled out their dick in my presence, they wouldn¡¯t get it back.

    They could kill me¡ªor they could try¡ªbut I would make the Loups-Garous a pack of eunuchs before I let them go balls deep.

    ¡°She¡¯s scrappy,¡± Dreadlocks said.

    ¡°She¡¯s trouble. We¡¯re leaving her for Carn.¡±

    Carn? What the fuck was that short for? Carnie? Carnivore? Carnal? ¡°I hope Carn likes it rough,¡± I snapped, my fangs showing. Mohawk and Dreadlocks exchanged looks, but the guy dragging me couldn¡¯t see my mouth and kept right on ripping my hair out by its ends.

    I¡¯d been able to partially shift myself once before. How had I done it? I tried to concentrate on the shape and configuration of my bones. Could thought alone help me twist and change myself into some half-wolf abomination? Last time it had happened my life had been in immediate danger.

    I don¡¯t think my brain understood that this situation was as bad¡ªif not worse¡ªthan having an overweight Greek vampire going for my carotid. I stretched my fingers, envisioning them bursting into claws. My muscles twinged with the effort and my face felt hot from struggling, but nothing happened. Unless breaking a sweat counted.

    ¡°Take them to the pit. We¡¯ll let Carn sort them out.¡±

    ¡°But I want to touch her,¡± one of the other wolves whined.

    Mohawk backhanded him. Even if he wasn¡¯t the leader, it was obvious the spiky-haired bastard was high in their ranks. I should have shot him when I had the chance, but now my gun was tucked in the front of his jeans.

    Good luck, buddy. I turned the safety off. I hope you blow your nuts to pulp.

    Apparently my telekinetic powers were as rusty as my shifting was because the gun did not fire even though I was giving it the evil eye with all my might. Where were my hereditary witch skills?

    The wolf dragging me pulled me over a crop of sharp rocks. To show my appreciation, I pushed off the ground with both feet. Had I not been tethered to someone by my hair I could have done a nice kick up onto my feet, but his hold would just drag me down. Instead I put too much weight into it so my legs went right over my head and connected hard with his skull.

    He dropped me. ¡°Son of a bitch,¡± he screamed. The hand that had once been in my hair flew up to cradle his injured noggin.

    I straightened into a standing position and dusted the moss and mud off my jacket casually, like nothing had happened. ¡°My legs work. I can walk.¡±

    The wolf I¡¯d kicked made to grab my hair again, and my elbow flew back, breaking his nose.

    ¡°I said I can walk.¡±

    Mohawk stared at me. ¡°You think you can do it without breaking any more bones?¡±

    ¡°That depends. Do you think your puppies can keep their paws to themselves the rest of the way?¡±

    The group who had been bartering with each other about who would ride first suddenly didn¡¯t seem quite so interested. I wasn¡¯t stupid enough to think they wouldn¡¯t still try, but for now I wasn¡¯t as inviting as I¡¯d once been.

    ¡°I make no promises,¡± Mohawk said.

    ¡°Then neither do I.¡±

    We arrived in a small encampment about fifteen minutes later, having never left the island. The place was much bigger than I¡¯d anticipated, making me wonder if the Loups-Garous were the only inhabitants. I wanted to believe someone out there might be able to save us, but who was I kidding? Who could stand against a pack of feral wolves almost as large as Callum¡¯s whole crew?

    Small campfires littered the main living area and little wooden shacks appeared to be the sole form of shelter. A woman heavy with pregnancy stepped out of one shed and caught my eye. I didn¡¯t miss the flash of pity in her face. She rubbed her big belly, and a small child dashed out from behind her. They both looked wild, hair sticking up, rigid with muck.

    The child was barely six, but the smell of wolf was unmistakable.

    They were changing the children.

    Changing children before they came of age was forbidden by werewolf law. Most children couldn¡¯t handle the change at an early age, and the transformation into wolf form would more often than not kill them. This was why born werewolves were so rare and why seeing one in adulthood was almost unheard of.

    It took a really sick animal to turn a child, and I was surrounded by a whole pack of them.

    Another woman¡ªhardly old enough to be called an adult¡ªwas sitting next to a fire. She scampered out of the way when the men arrived back in the camp. Her belly, too, was large.

    Jesus Christ. They kidnapped women and made them into living breeding machines so they could expand their pack through the offspring. This was what they had planned for me.

    As it turned out, the pit wasn¡¯t a cheeky nickname for anything. It was literally a giant fucking hole in the ground, about fifteen feet deep and just as wide across. Mohawk let the wolf with a broken nose and a goose egg on the back of his head have the pleasure of shoving me into it. Holden was tossed in next, and his bulk landing on top of me sucked worse than my fall.

    I grunted and shoved him off me. The wolves dragged two sheets of plywood over the mouth of the hole, and Holden and I were cast into total darkness. It didn¡¯t matter, there wasn¡¯t much I wanted to look at in the pit anyway, and I could see Holden well enough since he was right next to me.

    ¡°So¡­¡± he started, but couldn¡¯t find anything else to say.

    ¡°Yeah. I want to say something clever, make this whole thing a big laugh, but it¡¯s kind of hard when a bunch of savages want to turn me into their incubator right after they eat you.¡±

    ¡°Look on the bright side,¡± he suggested.

    ¡°There¡¯s a bright side?¡±

    ¡°Sure. Daylight is coming. Maybe they¡¯ll lift up the roof and we¡¯ll just be burned to death.¡±

    He was right, I could feel sunrise coming. It whispered in my ear and tugged at my eyelids. ¡°Maybe we can dig into the side of the hole?¡± I paced our prison, testing the walls. The dirt was wet, and though it would be easy enough to dig into, I didn¡¯t know how far we¡¯d get before water from the swamp started filling the pit. If we didn¡¯t drown, it would force us into the sunlight where we¡¯d die anyway. He would turn to ash within minutes, whereas my skin would bubble and burst, covered with agonizing burns until the pain did me in.

    Boy did I like our odds.

    I sat next to Holden and rested my head on his shoulder. He¡¯d removed his jacket, and now that I was close, he laid it across my lap as a makeshift blanket.

    ¡°I won¡¯t let them touch you,¡± he promised.

    ¡°I know.¡± I looped my arm under his and breathed in the familiar scent of his skin. ¡°And if there¡¯s a way out of this, I swear we¡¯ll find it.¡±

    ¡°I know.¡±

    The lies people tell each other when hope runs out are the easiest to believe. If words are all you have, what else can you do but hang on to them?

    Sunrise came, and I felt Holden sag under my touch, now unreachable as he slept the worry-free sleep of the dead. I brushed his hair back from his forehead and placed a kiss in the wake of my fingers. It had been at least twenty-four hours since I¡¯d fed, maybe more. If you could count the rabbits and possums I¡¯d fed on in the woods during my walks a real meal. A year ago there would have been no way for me to fight the daylight sleep without a bellyful of fresh blood.

    But I was Tribunal now.

    I was so exhausted my bones felt like they¡¯d turned to liquid. If forced to fight in this condition, I could do about as much damage as a rabid chipmunk. Sleep wasn¡¯t an option, though. Sleeping would leave Holden defenseless, and if I awoke at dusk to find him gone¡ªkilled during the daylight hours while I slept¡ªI would never forgive myself.

    I pulled him flush to me, letting his cheek rest against my breasts, nearer than I would have ever let him get under normal circumstances. Right now it was different, though, since he was dead to the world and it made me feel better to have him close.

    Day burned bright, and the sounds of the camp filtered down to me. I listened while I rubbed my thumbnail into the shortened lifeline on my left hand, cursing Fate out loud for not letting me make my own choice.

    I waited. For death, for freedom, I wasn¡¯t sure. All I could do was wait for the nightmare to end.

    Chapter Twenty-Six

    It might have been a coincidence, but when night fell and Carn still hadn¡¯t shown up at the camp, I chose to think the Fates had heard my curses. First my strength began to return ounce by ounce. I was still hungry, and not at the top of my form, but every inch farther below the horizon the sun moved, the stronger I became.

    When night came roaring into the Loups-Garous camp, Holden awakened and I was no longer alone.

    ¡°What happened?¡± he asked.

    ¡°Nothing.¡±

    ¡°They left us alone?¡±

    ¡°Not for long.¡± I pointed to the plywood ceiling where a chorus of whoops and howls announced the arrival of something or someone important. Either they¡¯d been delivered another¡ªmore willing¡ªbaby-making machine, or Carn had arrived.

    The plywood was pulled back, and several curious faces peered over the edge. Mohawk¡¯s smiling mouth started moving, but it took a second for me to hear him. ¡°Bet you thought we¡¯d forgotten about you, Spitfire.¡±

    ¡°I could only dream of being so lucky.¡±

    ¡°Oh, you¡¯re about to get plenty lucky, don¡¯t you worry.¡±

    I made a gagging noise. ¡°If you¡¯re offering yourself, I¡¯d rather try my luck somewhere else.¡±

    A booming voice replied, ¡°My, what a mouth on this one.¡± The wolf who had to be Carn appeared next to Mohawk. Their leader was so broad across the chest it would take two of me to hug him. His long hair was pulled back in a ponytail, and he was grinning at me in a way that might make a lesser woman¡¯s panties melt.

    If he¡¯d had a shower at some point in the last six years, that is.

 Page 25

    ¡°The triumphant return of the great leader,¡± I greeted with a sneer.

    ¡°It isn¡¯t often we get a lost wolf out here, little one. What a treat.¡± His voice was low and boomed with such volume he must have lungs the size of a furnace. I bet he could howl like a motherfucker in his wolf form.

    ¡°You¡¯ll be in for a real treat when I get up there.¡± The words could be mistaken for innuendo if not for the venom in my tone.

    ¡°Girl, you are a spirited animal. Do you know what I do with animals who have too much spirit?¡±

    I didn¡¯t answer.

    ¡°I break them.¡±

    ¡°I have a proposition for you, Carnie.¡±

    The wolf had probably expected me to quake in my boots at his threat, but my boots weren¡¯t made for quaking. And I remembered what Holden had said on the riverbank. With wolves it all comes down to two things, pride and power. Feral wolves were no different than pack wolves when it came to that. If pride goeth before the fall, I was going to make Carn fall hard.

    He regained his composure. ¡°You may speak.¡±

    ¡°You and I are going to fight.¡±

    Carn began to howl with laughter. ¡°I do like a little fight in my women. It isn¡¯t fun when they just lay there.¡±

    ¡°No, you misunderstand the proposal. You and I are going to fight¡­and if I win, you will give my companion and me a boat and safe passage.¡±

    He started to protest, but then gave me a once-over and laughed again. ¡°And when I win?¡±

    ¡°Well, then, I guess I¡¯m all yours.¡±

    ¡°What if I say no and take you anyway?¡±

    ¡°Then your men will always wonder if it was because you were afraid to be beaten by a girl.¡± It was the oldest goad of all time aside from ¡°are you chicken?¡± but I crossed my arms and stared hard at the giant man, knowing it was only a matter of time before he caved.

    ¡°What are you doing?¡± Holden asked in a whisper so low it was as though he hadn¡¯t spoken at all.

    ¡°I¡¯m going to kick his ass, and then we¡¯re getting the fuck out of here.¡±

    ¡°Secret, he¡¯s huge.¡±

    I shushed him. I knew very well that size was an illusion when it came to measuring strength. Sure, Carn was a mountain, and I was a mouse. But I still believed I¡¯d kick his ass into next week. I had rage on my side, and he underestimated me in every way.

    ¡°I don¡¯t want to bruise you before the sex,¡± Carn suggested, the wolves at his side snickering.

    ¡°Think of it as tenderizing.¡±

    Mohawk let out a low whistle.

    Carn¡¯s face twisted, exposing his true feelings about my sassy mouth. I was making a fool of him, and he appreciated it about as much as I liked being caged in a dirt hole.

    ¡°Bring her. The man stays.¡± With those words he vanished.

    It wasn¡¯t that I was doubting my decisions per se, but when I was standing on one end of a hard-packed dirt circle and looking at Carn from eye level, well, I was less cocky than I¡¯d been inside the pit. He was at least six and a half feet tall and even bigger up close than he¡¯d appeared from within the pit. His body was a mass of hard-toned muscle with arms as big around as my waist.

    ¡°You¡¯re a big boy,¡± I commented.

    ¡°In every way.¡± He grabbed his crotch with one hand in case I hadn¡¯t figured out what his words meant.

    ¡°I¡¯ve found that men who need to brag about the size of their cocks are usually the ones with the tiniest packages.¡± I¡¯d struck my first blow and I didn¡¯t even need to throw a punch.

    He growled. ¡°Well, I¡¯ve found that bitches with loud mouths are usually the first to choke on my tiny package.¡±

    Ewww.

    I¡¯d removed my jacket and stretched my bare arms. I¡¯d replaced my favorite yellow tank top recently, and it looked like I was about to ruin another one. Blood was such a bitch to get out of brights.

    ¡°If you¡¯re just going to stand there and talk at me all night, I¡¯m going to think you¡¯ve got a pussy under there. What¡¯s the matter, Carn. Got your monthlies? Aunt Flo in town? I know¡­cramps can be such a bit¡ª¡±

    Carn weighed about two hundred and eighty pounds. That was the best estimate I could give when he threw all of his weight into me at a run and sent me flying across the circle and into the woods.

    The wolves howled their approval. My ribs groaned in protest as I staggered to my feet, thanking me for what was likely a hairline fracture. Bones healed. My ribs would have to suck it up. Rotating my shoulders to keep the pain from making me stiff, I walked back into the circle. The wolves stopped howling. Guess they¡¯d thought I was down for the count.

    ¡°Was that the best you¡¯ve got, big boy?¡± I danced from foot to foot, prepared for the next attack. ¡°My grandmother throws harder hits than you.¡±

    This time I saw him coming. He ran at me with his arms extended outward like a battering ram, bent at the elbows so they wouldn¡¯t lock when he collided with his target. I¡¯d give him credit, the man knew how to fight.

    I leaped up when he was within range, landing on his rigid arms as if they were a springboard. Before he had a chance to drop me, I pulled my foot back and kicked him square in the face. I tucked in a low crouch while he swung blindly for me, blood spraying from his broken nose.

    While he stomped around like a misguided Godzilla, trying to crush me under his massive feet, I swept my leg into his knees and brought him crashing into the dirt. I was feeling cocky now, but not stupid. I wanted to hop on his chest and declare the fight over, but I knew he wouldn¡¯t give up that easily.

    Sure enough, he clambered to his feet with a roar and lashed out with a hard left hook, feinting halfway through the swing when I dodged, and slamming his right fist into me with an uppercut that sent me flying.

    I got up, wiping blood off my busted lip. ¡°That¡¯s more like it.¡±

    ¡°I am going to enjoy crushing your spirit, little girl.¡±

    I cracked my neck, and the tendons sighed with relief from the flood of endorphins. If I had my knife, this would all be over. Even a mammoth like him would stay down if I severed his Achilles. I stretched out my fingers and assessed the distance between myself and his bare feet. I was strong, but my nails were trimmed short, and I didn¡¯t know if I could claw through the skin before he yanked me off and threw me into the next parish.

    So his heel was out, and I wasn¡¯t going to best him with a facial beating.

    There was one obvious way to bring this son of a bitch to his knees and have him screaming uncle. It felt weak, like a cheat, but I didn¡¯t have time to trade jabs with him all night. I had a teenaged werewolf to find and a fucking wedding to get back on schedule.

    I ran straight for him with breakneck speed. He reached out to snatch me mid-run, but within inches of his eager fingers I hit the ground like a ballplayer desperate for home plate and slid beneath his open hands and in between his legs.

    He hadn¡¯t been full of shit when he said he was packing huge equipment in his briefs, because his balls were so big they didn¡¯t fit in the palm of my hand. Oh well, the bigger they are, the harder they fall. That saying had never been truer than when I had an Alpha werewolf by the nuts and was squeezing them so hard I could feel the sensitive tissues rupturing more and more with each moment.

    Carn howled, and there was nothing triumphant about it. He whimpered and crashed to the earth, but I still didn¡¯t release my hold.

    ¡°My friend and I go free,¡± I said, crushing a little harder for emphasis.

    He wailed, a high-pitched, pitiful sound.

    ¡°Your word.¡± When he didn¡¯t reply immediately, I screamed, ¡°Give me your fucking word.¡±

    ¡°My word. Go.¡± Tears were streaming down his red cheeks, and he was curling in on himself like a sleepy baby.

    I let him go, and it took all my respect for the rules of a fair fight to not kick the bastard in his ruined testicles. Insult to injury wouldn¡¯t do me any good here. Nor would his word. At best I¡¯d bought Holden and myself a head start.

    I ran from the circle back to the pit. Sure enough, I¡¯d barely dragged Holden from the hole before I heard Carn¡¯s raspy voice scream.

    ¡°Kill them. Make it hurt.¡±

    Chapter Twenty-Seven

    Going back the way we¡¯d come was out of the question. There had been no exit from the island, no escape route, so when I grabbed Holden and screamed, ¡°Run,¡± it was deeper into the woods we fled. We couldn¡¯t escape their noses¡ªthe Loups-Garous would chase us until we were caught¡ªand if that happened, I doubted Carn would let me barter with him again.

    Holden and I barreled forward, moving with a speed only vampires could manage, giving us a slight advantage over the wolves. We needed to find where they kept their boats¡ªthey had to have at least one¡ªand we had to be off the island before the ferals caught up with us. I clung to Holden¡¯s hand as we ran, deathly afraid the moment I let him go he would disappear and be lost forever.

    My lungs burned but still I ran. I ran until my blood was like acid, burning up the inside of my body with a vengeance for what I was asking my limbs to do for me.

    The woods stopped as abruptly as they¡¯d begun, and we found ourselves on a shoreline not unlike the one we¡¯d been dumped on the previous night. Everywhere we looked there was nothing but sycamore and swamp water. No boat. No escape.

    ¡°We follow the shore. There has to be a boat somewhere,¡± I said, trying to squash my fear with a healthy shot of logic.

    From the belly of the woods the racket of the pack pursuing us sang through the otherwise quiet night air. They were shouting what sounded like war chants to each other, songs of blood and revenge that didn¡¯t sound fully human.

    With Holden¡¯s hand still clasped in mine I ran down the shore. No direction we turned felt safe. The hunting voices came from everywhere like a living nightmare. We ran, our feet slipping on the slick, mossy shore. The topography of the island itself was against us, trying to pluck at our ankles and throw us into the swamp. I staggered, and Holden pulled me up by my armpits, half-dragging me as he struggled to maintain our pace.

 Page 26

    And then it was there, two hundred yards ahead. Salvation in the form of a yellow inflatable dingy. All we had to do was get to it and¡ª

    The pack poured out from the woods between us and the boat.

    Holden skidded to a stop, and I slammed into his back. Behind us, more of the wolves spilled out from between the trees, leaving us surrounded on the beach within sight of our escape but unable to reach it.

    I was unarmed, and we were outnumbered ten to one. We¡¯d be able to take a few of them out, but we were right back where we¡¯d been the night before, and this time they weren¡¯t going to play nice. Their leader said they were to kill us, and their lean, menacing faces promised to follow through on his orders.

    ¡°Holden,¡± I whispered against the back of his neck.

    ¡°Yeah?¡±

    ¡°I¡¯m sorry.¡±

    He squeezed my hand and held it over his heart. ¡°So am I.¡±

    I closed my eyes and pressed my forehead against the damp material of his shirt, breathing him in one last time. Any second now they would come, and we would make our last stand on this shitty bog.

    Any second now.

    A wolf made a worried yip, and another whimpered. I opened one eye and looked to the woods, then opened the other eye and stared in shock. A faint red glow, swirling like a tornado, was advancing through the trees towards us. The sharp scent of urine punctuated the air as several of the wolves wet themselves before running into the woods.

    One of the younger ones, directly in line of the red light, panicked and ran into the water, splashing around like a madman. Suddenly he screamed and the splashes doubled, a frothy boil of water tossing on the surface showing flashes of blood-red meat and green-scaled skin. A gator had gotten him. The water calmed, the scent of blood mingling with the other fear odors, creating an atmosphere of terror amongst the remaining wolves.

    They scattered, leaving Holden and me alone on the beach still embracing as we watched the red light emerge from the tree line and stop a few feet from us. Then the light died, and in its place stood a small, fragile-looking woman stooped over a wooden cane.

    Her hair was the brightest white I¡¯d ever seen and was bundled in a braid, wrapped around the crown of her head. Earrings made of feathers and small bones dangled from her wrinkled lobes, and each of her bone-thin fingers had a silver ring on it.

    She stared at us, her eyes shockingly blue and young-looking in contrast to the rest of her.

    ¡°La Sorci¨¨re,¡± I whispered.

    The woman smiled, giving her the appearance of a sweet old granny. But sweet grannies don¡¯t make a pack of feral wolves piss themselves.

    There was more crashing in the woods, and I tensed against Holden. A moment later a slight girl, about eighteen, emerged from the tree line, sputtering so many curses I had no doubt she was my missing sister.

    ¡°Hells bells, m¨¦m¨¨re, did you have to just up and vanish? What was the damned¡ª¡± She fell silent when she saw us. ¡°What¡¯s going on?¡±

    The old woman pointed one frighteningly thin finger at us, and I winced, expecting some kind of magical assault. None came, but my reaction made her smile widen. She was a twisted old lady. If I wasn¡¯t so damned terrified of her, I might like her. Maybe it had something to do with the fact that some of her blood was running through my veins.

    Eugenia, in spite of being my half-sister, couldn¡¯t have looked less like me. She was tall and slim, and her legs were well-muscled, probably from running after the witch. Black hair hung in a long ponytail down to her butt, and she had a fantastic tan.

    La Sorci¨¨re crooked her finger at Eugenia, and my sister bent down to let the woman whisper in her ear. I don¡¯t know what the old lady said, but when Eugenia¡¯s eyes went wide and she started staring at me, I had a pretty good idea what the gist of it was.

    Eugenia bounded past the old witch and came up to Holden and me. ¡°Let¡¯s get you two out of here before Carn sends reinforcements. There will be time to talk later.¡± Her hand rested on my arm, and she squeezed gently. ¡°I¡¯m glad she found you in time.¡±

    ¡°So am I.¡±

    La Sorci¨¨re was already toddling back into the trees, looking about as dangerous and unassuming as Yoda.

    Judge her by her size, I will not, I thought.

    Holden and I followed Eugenia and my great-grandmother into the darkness, this time without the showy display of lights. When we came to a huge sycamore, La Sorci¨¨re stopped. Eugenia looked over her shoulder at us and smiled with poorly concealed pride. ¡°This is the best part.¡±

    The witch touched the tree with a bare hand, and it groaned like a dog receiving a belly rub. The trunk shuddered once, and the whole base of the tree ripped open, exposing a doorway. Eugenia waited for the witch to go in then stepped back for us to enter ahead of her. ¡°Totally safe, I promise.¡±

    At this point I would have walked face first into a normal tree if someone told me it would give me an alternative to Carn and his ferals. And, as a considerate follow-up gift from the Fates, we¡¯d also been rescued by the very people I¡¯d been sent to find. Sometimes a girl gets lucky.

    And sometimes luck has nothing to do with it.

    On the other side of the tree door we entered a space I was at a loss to comprehend. It was a house, but it was also still the forest. Sycamores had grown together in a tight circle so fused by age and the forces of nature, all the trees had begun to form as one. The canopy had sealed in on itself, Spanish moss dangling over our heads like a green chandelier. The space was lit, but I couldn¡¯t say how because there was no electricity. The roots of the trees had warped to form wide ledges that were laid out with blankets, and a black cauldron sat on top of a smoldering fire next to the door.

    ¡°Wow,¡± I said.

    ¡°Amazing,¡± Holden agreed.

    ¡°You live here? You¡¯re like Luke Skywalker after he crashed into¡ª¡±

    Holden squeezed my hand and shook his head.

    Eugenia, to her credit, laughed. ¡°She does kind of look a bit like Yoda, doesn¡¯t she?¡±

    I¡¯m not sure if the witch did it to be funny, but she reached out then and cracked both Eugenia and me in the head with her cane. Witches didn¡¯t appreciate being compared to a nine-hundred-year-old Jedi, apparently. It wasn¡¯t an insult. Yoda was a total badass.

    Be a wicked smartass, I will not.

    Yeah, right. That would be the day.

    Chapter Twenty-Eight

    I awoke the next night in Holden¡¯s arms under a tight canopy of mossy trees, and my first thought was, Oh, I must be dreaming.

    A gentle clanging drew my attention to the corner space of the tree house where La Sorci¨¨re was stooped over a cauldron whispering words that definitely weren¡¯t English while breaking off sprigs of fresh herbs into the bubbling broth.

    So, not dreaming after all then.

    When I tried to leave the root bed, Holden protested by snuggling me closer and nipping at the back of my neck. I elbowed him. ¡°Wake up,¡± I demanded.

    ¡°Oof,¡± he replied. After he took a moment to chase the sleep away, he added, ¡°Oh.¡±

    The memory of the previous two days came back with the force of a physical blow, and I shuddered violently. Being able to sleep without fear for my safety or Holden¡¯s had been the greatest gift these women could have given me.

    Eugenia came through the door, her arrival announced by a sigh from the tree, and dumped a stack of dry wood next to the witch. The old woman asked a question by lifting her white eyebrows a fraction of an inch. ¡°No, no problems,¡± Eugenia responded.

    Amazing what kind of understanding formed between people when they were alone together for five years.

    Seeing we were awake, my sister¡¯s expression broke into a wide smile. She snapped her fingers once, and whatever phantom light had illuminated the space the previous evening lit itself again. It shouldn¡¯t have surprised me that Eugenia had picked up a thing or two during her time with La Sorci¨¨re, but I still had trouble understanding how the girl could be both a werewolf and a witch. The two were such different forms of magic they shouldn¡¯t be allowed to peacefully coexist in one body.

    ¡°M¨¦m¨¨re told me who you were,¡± she said excitedly.

    ¡°What did she tell you?¡± I wasn¡¯t sure how much the old woman knew, and I wouldn¡¯t be tricked into confessing something the girl didn¡¯t actually know.

    ¡°That you¡¯re my sister.¡±

    I nodded.

    ¡°How long have you known?¡± Eugenia asked.

    ¡°Do you have a watch?¡±

    I explained my chat with Callum, touched briefly on my mother abandoning me and why Grandmere worried it wouldn¡¯t be safe for me, which was why I hadn¡¯t been with the pack when Eugenia and Ben were born. I told her everything, figuring she had earned my honesty. If not for her and La Sorci¨¨re, I wouldn¡¯t be alive to tell the story. I admitted, finally, I was only there to take her back to the pack.

    After I was finished I felt exhausted all over again. I needed to feed soon, and there weren¡¯t a lot of options out here unless I wanted to hit an alligator up for a donation. Holden must have sensed the building tension in me because he reached out and stroked my hair.

    ¡°You want me to go back to Callum?¡± Eugenia asked, but from her tone she knew the answer to her own question.

    It wasn¡¯t an outright refusal, so I continued. ¡°I know you left for a reason, and believe me when I say I understand what a bunch of uptight assholes the werewolves can be. But I¡¯ve started to think Callum might have our best interests in mind. I don¡¯t think he means to do us harm.¡±

    ¡°But he isn¡¯t the only reason you¡¯re here.¡±

    ¡°No. Without his blessing I can¡¯t marry my mate. If we don¡¯t get married, then the entire Eastern pack could be crippled by in-fighting and uncertainty. I¡¯m pack protector. I can¡¯t let anything jeopardize the pack.¡±

    ¡°And?¡±

    ¡°And someone is trying to kill me. Once Lucas and I are married, I think they¡¯ll stop.¡±

    ¡°You think by bringing me back to Callum you¡¯ll be able to get married, save your pack and save your life?¡± She had been sorting through bundles of dried herbs, tying them with bits of twine, but she stopped to ask me one last question. ¡°That¡¯s an awful lot of pressure, don¡¯t you think?¡±

 Page 27

    ¡°I suppose it is.¡±

    ¡°Do you know why I left Callum¡¯s compound in the first place?¡±

    ¡°I don¡¯t. He said you became difficult after you were Awakened, and not in the typical teenage ways.¡±

    ¡°It was polite of him to put it that way.¡±

    ¡°How would you put it?¡±

    ¡°I blew things up every full moon.¡±

    ¡°You¡­blew things up?¡±

    Eugenia wrapped up several sprigs of lavender. ¡°You know most werewolf teens are Awakened when they¡¯re thirteen, obviously. Do you know what age hereditary witches come into their power?¡±

    ¡°I¡¯ll hazard a guess and say thirteen?¡±

    ¡°Bingo.¡±

    ¡°So you were turned into a werewolf and had magic powers spark to life at the same time?¡±

    She nodded. ¡°I wanted to be a good werewolf. Ben was a natural¡ªhe took to the change right away, he showed alpha tendencies early on, he was so good at it. I wanted to be half as good as he was. The problem is, moonlight heightens a witch¡¯s powers. So when I shifted, my magic would react, but I couldn¡¯t control it and manage the shift at the same time. The magic lashed out, violently.¡±

    ¡°And stuff blew up.¡±

    ¡°Yep. There were about twice as many cabins on the property before I started knocking them down by accident. The first time it happened I thought it was a coincidence. After the third full moon and the third flattened cabin, I knew it was my fault.¡±

    ¡°So you left.¡±

    ¡°So I left.¡±

    ¡°How did you know to come looking for her?¡± I asked, pointing to the witch who had done an excellent job of ignoring us up until now.

    ¡°I didn¡¯t. She found me. She showed me how to control my magic even when I¡¯m not in control of my human form. I can¡¯t cast spells in wolf form, but at least I don¡¯t blow things up anymore.¡±

    ¡°Does Callum know you¡¯re a witch?¡±

    ¡°If he didn¡¯t at the time, I think he figured it out when I started living with her.¡±

    For the first time during our sisterly one-on-one, La Sorci¨¨re reacted. She snorted then muttered something. It sounded French, but it wasn¡¯t Canadian French or Cajun French, so I was screwed when it came to understanding anything.

    Eugenia¡ªon the other hand¡ªchuckled. ¡°She says ¡®Even the most obvious answers sometimes do not bite a foolish man in the ass.¡¯¡±

    Oh yeah. We were related.

    ¡°I won¡¯t force you to come back,¡± I told Eugenia.

    ¡°You are strong, Secret, but I have the witch on my side. You couldn¡¯t force me.¡±

    La Sorci¨¨re clucked her tongue and waved her cane menacingly. I couldn¡¯t tell if she was adding a visual element to Eugenia¡¯s threat, or if she was scolding the girl for wielding grandmotherly power like a weapon.

    Either way, Eugenia ignored her and plowed ahead. ¡°If I come with you, it will be up to you to explain to Callum that me coming back doesn¡¯t mean I¡¯m staying. I¡¯ve been out of the pack a long time, and I don¡¯t know if being a lone wolf has screwed me up more than the magic did.¡±

    ¡°I¡¯ll try to make him understand.¡±

    Then she changed the topic. Drastically. ¡°What¡¯s she like? Our mom.¡±

    ¡°How much did Callum tell you about Mercy before you left?¡±

    ¡°That she was complicated. Wild. I always figured I was a lot like her.¡± Her faint smile made my stomach hurt.

    ¡°No. You¡¯re nothing like Mercy. You have a soul.¡±

    That knocked Eugenia on her proverbial ass. Her expression was that of a child learning Santa Claus wasn¡¯t real. I felt like shit for being the one to kill her fantasy of who Mercy was. But if she ever met our mother, I didn¡¯t want her thinking it was going to be a touching family reunion. Mostly because the next time I saw Mercy I would rip out her intestines and wear them as a sarong.

    What can I say? Bitch not only tried to kill me, but my mate too.

    I wanted to explain Mercy without tainting the story too much with my experiences. ¡°Eugenia, Mercy isn¡¯t complicated. She¡¯s very simple. She loved my father and he died. When I was born, she got it into her head his death was somehow my fault and abandoned me. Her sadness never went away, and it made her go bat-shit crazy. Since then, she continues to blame me for everything she¡¯s lost. She tried to kill me.¡±

    ¡°She¡­you mean metaphorically?¡±

    ¡°No, I mean she shifted her hand into a claw and made pretty solid effort of shredding the meat off my face. That was after she held a bullet between my ribs for six hours so I couldn¡¯t heal.¡±

    Eugenia¡¯s mouth formed an O shape, her eyes wide and a little wet.

    Now I had not only told her Santa wasn¡¯t real, I¡¯d told her the Easter Bunny went on killing sprees to eat the children who didn¡¯t find his eggs.

    ¡°But¡­¡±

    ¡°I¡¯m sorry.¡±

    ¡°Maybe¡ª¡±

    ¡°I don¡¯t want to be cruel.¡± I stood up and rubbed my hands against my back pockets to rid myself of the film of sweat that had accumulated while I told my story. ¡°Once, there was a good Mercy. But that girl is gone. Our mothers are the women who raised us, not the woman who gave birth to us.¡±

    A bunch of thyme hung loose in her hands, perilously close to slipping to the floor. Eugenia turned to La Sorci¨¨re. ¡°Did you know?¡±

    The witch shrugged.

    ¡°Of course you knew. You know everything.¡± The girl sighed. Shaking off the stupor, she finished wrapping twine around the herbs. Once she had set the bundle in a basket with the others, she placed her hands in her lap and took two deep breaths. ¡°Okay.¡±

    ¡°Okay?¡±

    ¡°I¡¯ll come with you.¡±

    I had to sit down again.

    ¡°You¡¯re right. The one who raised me is my real parent, and it wasn¡¯t Mercy, it was Callum. I owe it to him to go back and try to be part of the family he made for me. And you risked your life to come here to ask me to come with you, not to force me¡­ So yeah, I¡¯ll come.¡±

    La Sorci¨¨re tapped her wooden spoon against the side of the cauldron then teetered away from it. I assumed she would go to Eugenia, but instead she walked up to me. She was so small her height standing was still shorter than mine sitting. She grabbed my hands, turned them palm up and gave them a thorough once-over, dragging her fingernails over every bump and groove.

    She paid extra attention to the lifelines, her nail skating along one, then the other, and then back to the short one. A low whistle escaped her lips, and her shocking blue eyes met mine. They were so, so blue. Finished with my hands, she allowed them to drop to my lap before she reached to my neck.

    I flinched, my hand going protectively to the tiger¡¯s iron I wore.

    The witch slapped my hand gently, and I let her unclasp the necklace. I huffed out a breath and said, ¡°Go ahead. It¡¯s faulty anyway.¡±

    La Sorci¨¨re shook her head then spoke in perfect English. ¡°Nothing this stone can do will turn away the evil eye on you.¡± She slipped the tiger¡¯s iron into a pouch on the front of her dress, then touched one finger to my forehead, grimaced and walked off muttering in her weird French dialect.

    Eugenia looked confused.

    ¡°What did she say?¡± I asked.

    ¡°She said ¡®Only when you know the way, will you be out from under the cloud that follows you.¡¯¡±

    Chapter Twenty-Nine

    The Mercedes was still parked outside Arnie¡¯s slanty shanty. Guess he hadn¡¯t had a chance to find a willing chop shop to come drag it away. I wanted to burn his shack to the ground with him inside it. I wanted to take him in his stupid skiff and abandon him on the island with the Loups-Garous with a sign around his neck that said, Will be your butt buddy for food.

    I wanted to kill him.

    He had abandoned us there, and I couldn¡¯t fathom what kind of deal he¡¯d worked out with the ferals, but he knew Holden and I weren¡¯t coming back alive.

    But he was human, and a long time ago I¡¯d promised myself I wouldn¡¯t kill any humans.

    It didn¡¯t mean I couldn¡¯t fuck up his life like he¡¯d tried to fuck up mine. I went to the Mercedes and popped the trunk. Inside was a spare gas can, and in the emergency kit I found matches.

    All the commotion of slamming car doors brought the ancient old man out onto his deck.

    He caught a glimpse of me¡ªhair still caked with mud, my tank top sprayed with blood from my fight with Carn¡ªand he crossed himself.

    I shook my head and brought the gas can over to his skiff. ¡°No one upstairs is listening to your fucking prayers, old man.¡± I dumped out half the gas on the wooden boat then threw a lit match on top. It went up with the gusto of a Roman candle. Old wood always burns best.

    I walked over to him, and he began to tremble when I was inches away. I held the gas can up so it was in his line of sight. ¡°Ours was the last tour you¡¯ll ever run. If I find out you left anyone else out there¡ªand I will find out¡ªthe next fire I light is your bed. With you in it.¡±

    His knees buckled, and he sagged to the deck, staring at his boat and weeping.

    He deserved worse, but he believed in a Christian God, so he knew he¡¯d be getting his in the end. There was a level in Hell for liars and murderers. I hoped it involved lots of flaying.

    Holden was leaning against the driver¡¯s side, his hands on the roof and his chin resting on top of them. Eugenia watched with open-mouthed horror. She was probably reconsidering her decision to come with me, now.

    ¡°Hell hath no fury like a Secret screwed over,¡± Holden muttered.

    I put the gas back in the trunk. ¡°Let¡¯s get the fuck out of here. I never want to see a goddamn swamp again for as long as I live.¡±

    One of my greatest skills has to be my ability to make one hell of an entrance.

    The whole pack¡ªminus two kings¡ªwas at The Den when we returned. You could have heard a pin drop when I walked through the door, mud-caked and bloody.

    Hank was the first person to speak, and I was ever so happy he was.

 Page 28

    ¡°Looks like someone¡¯s been out in the woods rolling around with some nig¡ª¡±

    I punched him so hard he crumpled like a house of playing cards.

    ¡°I¡¯ve wanted to do that since the first moment you opened your mouth, you stupid son of a bitch.¡± I stepped over him and up to the bar. Jackson, who¡¯d been across the room, was suddenly at my side and looked ready to take on the world if anyone tried to avenge Hank. No one made a move until the pack¡¯s sole African-American member came up to me and placed a hand on my shoulder, beaming.

    ¡°Thank you.¡±

    Giving him a tight smile, I said, ¡°You can thank me by bringing Their Majesties here.¡±

    He nodded, clapping me on the shoulder another few times before he went to get Callum and Lucas. I accepted the scotch offered to me by tonight¡¯s acting bartender and told Jackson he could stand down. It didn¡¯t escape my notice that Morgan hadn¡¯t moved from her seat once. Not that I would have made any great effort to defend her either, mind you.

    Magnolia¡ªshowing an impressive display of strength¡ªdragged Hank back to his table and gave him a dirty dishcloth to staunch the bleeding. ¡°Serves you right, stirring up shit,¡± she told him.

    He kept giving me the stink eye, but I wasn¡¯t having it. Hank didn¡¯t scare me.

    ¡°Are you planning to hide out on the porch all night?¡± I hollered to my hidden mystery guest.

    Eyes pivoted from me to the door. Amelia was the first to react, with a gasped, ¡°My God.¡± Ben was the next, staggering to his feet and sending his chair skittering back across the hardwood as he cleared the room in a heartbeat and lifted his sister off the floor in a crushing hug.

    ¡°You¡¯re home,¡± he whispered, tears streaming down his cheeks.

    ¡°I¡¯m home.¡± Eugenia buried her face in his neck, her cheeks wet with emotion as she hugged him back. ¡°I¡¯ve missed you so much.¡±

    The room was far from quiet now. Newer pack members asked who the girl was, and others were just excited to have Eugenia home. She and I were the only two out of the loop on our relationship. Before Callum had told me I had siblings, I¡¯d assumed Ben was either Callum¡¯s own son, or my Aunt Savannah¡¯s. Savannah, as it turned out, was out west shacked up with a prince there.

    Now a huge chunk of family was back together, and everyone in the room was treating it like a damned reunion. Beer flowed as freely as water, and people were toasting Eugenia¡¯s return when Callum and Lucas walked in a few minutes later.

    Callum went to Eugenia and held her at arm¡¯s length, getting a good look at her. His eyes glistened, but no tears fell. Kings don¡¯t cry. They did hug, though, because Callum pulled her in for a hug so fierce it put our brother¡¯s to shame.

    Lucas couldn¡¯t care less about Eugenia¡¯s triumphant return to the fold. He cleared the room in a heartbeat and lifted me off the floor and up onto the bar, wrapping his arms around me as he kissed the breath right out of my lungs.

    My vision swam. His fingers slid under my shirt, clawlike, trying to pull me closer to him than a human body could go. I returned his fevered kiss, then, begrudgingly, pushed him away. ¡°Baby, we have an audience.¡±

    He released me with a growl, telling me he didn¡¯t give a hoot who could see us.

    Callum, with one arm around Eugenia and another around Ben, beamed like a proud father. ¡°Thank you,¡± he said. ¡°Thank you for this.¡±

    ¡°About that. You and I need to have a little chat.¡±

    A hush spread through the crowd. I guess I¡¯d forgotten my manners in the swamp. Along with my give-a-shits. I shot back the scotch, grimacing, and grumbled, ¡°Apologies. Your Majesty, might I request an audience?¡±

    ¡°Of course.¡±

    We left the bar, Lucas insisting on coming along. I¡¯d already impressed upon Eugenia the importance of not telling any of the wolves about Holden, and I had to hope she¡¯d remain true to her word. The kings and I settled into Callum¡¯s office.

    ¡°I suppose you want to finalize the details,¡± Callum said.

    ¡°Before we get into the agreement you and I made, there¡¯s something way more important you need to know.¡±

    ¡°Secret, I doubt there¡¯s anything more important¡ª¡± Lucas began, but I silenced him with a squeeze of the knee, not wanting to interrupt him in any more obvious way in front of another king.

    ¡°There is a pack in Maurepas Swamp.¡±

    ¡°A what?¡± Callum shifted to the edge of his chair, suddenly very interested in what I had to say.

    ¡°A feral pack. At least twenty, not counting the women and children. Not that the women are wolves. They¡¯re just incubators.¡±

    ¡°I don¡¯t think I understand.¡±

    ¡°There is a pack of fucking Lost Boys on an island in the swamp. They are kidnapping and raping tourist women and making them give birth to their offspring, and then turning the children.¡±

    ¡°How do you¡ª?¡±

    I drew his attention to the mud and blood.

    ¡°Did they¡­?¡± Lucas asked the question, but his words dropped off before he could finish the sentence. ¡°Are you¡­?¡±

    ¡°I don¡¯t think their Alpha will be siring any new pups anytime soon. And I definitely didn¡¯t make any friends. But I¡¯m fine.¡±

    ¡°My God,¡± Callum said.

    ¡°I don¡¯t want to tell you your business, Callum, but I think your last goal should be expanding into our territory when you have a dissenting pack not one hour from your front door.¡± I leaned across the table and fixed him with a hard stare. ¡°You know how bad a dissenting pack can make you look, don¡¯t you?¡±

    Callum didn¡¯t appear too impressed with me right then. He turned to regard Lucas, as if to ask if my king had put me up to this, but I think Callum knew me well enough by now to understand that no one put me up to anything against my will. ¡°Yes,¡± he said at last. ¡°I do know.¡±

    ¡°So do we have your word that for the time being, until your feral problem has been dealt with, you won¡¯t be trying to move into our territory?¡±

    He sat back and once again spoke to Lucas. ¡°Look at what you East Coast wolves do to my nice Southern girls? She¡¯s cutthroat.¡±

    Lucas shrugged. ¡°Blame Canada.¡±

    I smiled.

    ¡°She¡¯s going to make one hell of a queen, Rain.¡±

    ¡°She will if you let me marry her.¡±

    The Southern king leaned back in his chair and chuckled in a warm, smoky way. ¡°Like I could stop you with her involved.¡±

    And with that, we had what we¡¯d come for. I let out a sigh of relief.

    ¡°In fact, why stop there?¡± Callum added, and the sigh got caught in my throat.

    ¡°I don¡¯t¡ª¡±

    ¡°Your sister is home now, and your brother is here too. Let¡¯s go for broke. You two will proclaim your mate-hood here. Tomorrow night, during the full-moon ceremony.¡±

    Shit.

    Chapter Thirty

    Alone in our little cabin, I was allowed to pace back and forth, for all the good it did me.

    ¡°What does he mean, proclaim our mate-hood? You already activated our mate bond.¡±

    ¡°It¡¯s different.¡±

    ¡°Okay, fine. Explain it to me.¡±

    Lucas was sitting on the couch, watching me pace. ¡°There¡¯s a ceremony all werewolf couples must participate in at the full moon. They declare their bond in front of the whole pack, share blood, and then¡ªin the eyes of the wolves¡ªthey are married.¡±

    ¡°But we¡¯re getting married in a week. For real.¡±

    He shook his head. ¡°That¡¯s a human custom. This ceremony is the real marriage. We would have done it after our wedding at the next full-moon gathering. I wanted to tell you after our wedding in the city, to give you time to adjust to the idea.¡±

    I sat down on the stone hearth and tried to run my fingers through my hair. I needed a shower. And blood. But more than anything I needed not to be forced into a full-moon ceremony. What would happen when I couldn¡¯t change? How was I supposed to explain that to Callum and his pack? And what would it mean for Lucas?

    ¡°I can¡¯t do this.¡±

    ¡°I don¡¯t see what choice we have.¡±

    ¡°But I can¡¯t shift, Lucas.¡±

    ¡°I¡¯m not worried about that.¡±

    ¡°I haven¡¯t shifted in over twenty years, not since I was a baby and even that I don¡¯t remember. I¡¯m worried about it.¡±

    ¡°You¡¯re a werewolf attending a full-moon ceremony with two kings present.¡± He smiled like this should explain away my fear. ¡°You have nothing to worry about.¡±

    ¡°Yeah, that doesn¡¯t help.¡±

    ¡°Secret, trust me.¡±

    ¡°But¡ª¡±

    ¡°No, no buts. You have active werewolf blood in you. I don¡¯t care how many shields you have up, or how deeply you think you¡¯ve buried that part of you. No werewolf can resist the shift when they are in the presence of their king. None.¡±

    ¡°Boy will your face be red tomorrow when I prove your theory wrong.¡±

    ¡°Actually it will be furry and sort of golden, from what I¡¯ve been told.¡± He got up and crouched in front of me, taking my hands in his and kissing my forehead. The wrinkling of his nose didn¡¯t escape my attention. ¡°Now go have a shower and I will take you to the ceremony site so you know what to expect.¡±

    I smelled like raspberries and anxiety.

    The werewolf ceremony site was deep in the oak forest, in a clearing with a giant fire pit in the middle that reminded me way too much of my dream with Mercy. I¡¯d never been here before, but the details were spot-on. It made my stomach queasy.

    At least this time I was wearing clothes.

    Lucas tracked the circumference of the fire pit, prattling on about the way tomorrow¡¯s ceremony would go. Goody, I got to attend two rehearsals and two weddings in one week. Both of them mine. I didn¡¯t want to get married here. My pack was in New York. Those were my people.

    And what about Desmond?

    Oh God. What about Desmond? This felt like such a betrayal because I couldn¡¯t explain the circumstances to him ahead of time. I would come home married in the eyes of werewolves everywhere, and I hadn¡¯t given him a chance to prepare himself. I couldn¡¯t even call to tell him. He was out at the mansion with the rest of the pack preparing for their own rituals. I wanted to call him right then, but not only did my cell phone not work, could I really explain something like this to him over the phone? What could I say? The only proper way to talk about it was in person, and there just wasn¡¯t going to be time.

 Page 29

    ¡°Secret, are you listening?¡±

    ¡°No.¡±

    He came around the unlit fire pit and stood in front of me. ¡°This is important.¡±

    ¡°It isn¡¯t right. We should be doing this at home.¡±

    ¡°I don¡¯t know if we¡¯ll get a second chance to continue with Callum¡¯s permission. He could revoke his approval at any moment, and then where will we be?¡±

    ¡°Square one. I think we¡¯re pretty familiar with it by now.¡±

    Lucas forced a smile. I could always tell when he was faking his smiles because there was no warmth in his eyes. I crossed my arms over my chest and didn¡¯t return the disingenuous expression.

    ¡°I don¡¯t like it either,¡± he admitted.

    ¡°And it wasn¡¯t what he and I agreed to.¡±

    ¡°Well, he agreed to let us get married. Did you specify the when and where?¡±

    I gritted my teeth. ¡°Fucking loopholes.¡±

    He hugged me. ¡°If I explain it again, will you listen this time?¡±

    ¡°Can I be glib?¡±

    ¡°As if I could stop you.¡±

    We walked back to where the ceremony would begin, and he went over what Callum would say, what Lucas and I would be expected to do. The process wouldn¡¯t take long, and there wasn¡¯t too much to remember. A little song and dance, some professions of love, my promise to honor and obey¡ªpfft¡ªand some run-of-the-mill blood sharing.

    ¡°Do we get to cut our hands open and high-five like blood brothers?¡± I held my hand up.

    He gave me a look.

    ¡°You said I could be glib.¡±

    ¡°I said I couldn¡¯t stop you.¡±

    ¡°So, we exchange blood, then we¡¯re married.¡±

    ¡°Yes.¡±

    ¡°And then all the werewolves change and eat me because I can¡¯t shift.¡±

    ¡°I told you not to worry. So don¡¯t worry.¡± He sounded annoyed with me now. I don¡¯t think kings are used to having their word questioned, let alone outright doubted.

    ¡°I guess we¡¯ll have to wait and see.¡±

    ¡°I said trust me.¡±

    ¡°Okay. I trust you.¡±

    He grabbed me by the shoulder and spun me to face him. There was something¡­alluring about the way he looked at me. ¡°Trust me.¡±

    I blinked, then decided to see how far I could push my luck. ¡°And what if I don¡¯t?¡±

    Lucas growled and a shiver ran through me. ¡°Take off your jacket,¡± he instructed.

    I hesitated for a moment, but I let the garment drop to the ground.

    ¡°Now your pants.¡±

    ¡°Bossy,¡± I replied, but my voice came out husky. I complied. My shirt came next, all my clothes in a heap next to the fire. I stood, feeling too exposed in my underwear and profoundly self-conscious of the Victoria¡¯s Secret panties I wore that said, Take a picture, it will last longer.

    Lucas stripped down until he was in his black boxer briefs. Seeing the muscled expanse of his chest illuminated by the moonlight made my knees turn to butter. I licked my lips.

    ¡°Do you trust me?¡± he asked.

    ¡°No,¡± I lied.

    ¡°Then you¡¯d better run.¡±

    ¡°I¡ª¡±

    ¡°Run.¡±

    He dove for me, and I dodged. The smile on his face was wild, his blue eyes shining chartreuse. This close to the full moon little signs of his wolf were starting to show themselves through the veneer of his humanity. My heart pounded with excitement, and all my anxiety melted away.

    If the wolf king wanted a chase, I could give him a chase.

    I sprinted out of the circle and into the dark waiting arms of the oak trees. The ground was soft and spongy underfoot, with none of the sharp pine needles I was used to when I ran barefoot at home, but the extra layer of moss made it feel like I was running in sand. It slowed me down. Manitoba ground might be pointy, but at least it was hard.

    Lucas was right on my heels. His fingers grazed the small of my back and sent me spinning out of his grasp and off in the opposite direction. He lunged for me, and I jumped, grabbing a low-hanging branch. I swung up then turned to face him, swinging again for more leverage before I kicked off the trunk and over his head.

    I ran.

    The April air was cool and invigorating, and since my sprint wasn¡¯t fueled by fear, I ran like I was flying, streaming through the spaces between the trees as though the night had loaned me wings and I could run and run forever.

    Lucas caught me, his arms latched around my waist. He slammed us both against the nearest tree, his breath rising and falling with mine, excited pants against each other¡¯s skin. He licked my neck, and a shudder rocked me from the bottom of my spine to the top of my head.

    ¡°I caught you,¡± he murmured into my sweat-dampened shoulder.

    I dug my fingers into his hair, letting him support me against the moss-covered trunk of the oak. Instead of rough, the tree felt soft on my bare skin. ¡°What are you going to do with me?¡±

    His teeth grazed my neck where his tongue had just been, and he cupped my chin with one big hand, holding me up easily with one arm. His strength was staggering. Lucas angled my face upwards with a gentle push then dragged his hand slowly down my throat. I let him, knowing that by exposing the most vulnerable part of myself to him I was showing him I trusted him completely.

    He bit me again, and I moaned.

    My clever panties met a dramatic end, ripped off with one hand.

    ¡°I liked those,¡± I teased.

    ¡°I don¡¯t care.¡± He pushed his hips against me¡ªhard¡ªand the only thing holding me up now was his pelvis. I wrapped my legs around his waist, my heels anchoring into the place where his back curved into his toned ass. When his hands cupped my breasts, I arched my hips against him, trying to find a way to will his hardness inside me while both our hands were otherwise occupied. He growled again while I continued to rock myself against his erection.

    ¡°What do you want?¡± he whispered, his teeth nipping my earlobe, making my scalp tingle.

    ¡°I want you to fuck me,¡± I rasped. ¡°Now.¡±

    I opened my eyes and was staring into the pupils of an animal. The blue eyes I knew so well had vanished, replaced by the amber-green eyes of a wolf.

    ¡°Are you afraid?¡±

    ¡°No.¡± My fangs couldn¡¯t hide anymore. Passion and hunger rode a fine line for vampires, and he was testing the limits of my control. I grinned and showed him my razor-sharp canines. ¡°Are you?¡±

    He ground his pelvis into me. ¡°No.¡±

    ¡°Then shut up.¡±

    He lifted me, both hands on my bare ass, and I reached between us, pulling his hard cock free from his boxers. In one motion he lowered me onto him while he thrust hard. I tensed around him, intensifying the friction, and he made a noise somewhere between a moan and a growl. His fingers dug into my hips while he buried himself so deep inside me I rode the line from pleasure to pain and back again.

    Faster and faster he thrust, and each time our skin smacked together in a rough, desperate frenzy, I lost a little more of the hold I kept on my control. When his teeth bit down on my nipple and he drove into me so fiercely I thought I might end up inside the tree, I buried my fingers into his hair and jerked his neck to the side.

    He didn¡¯t stop biting me, not even when my fangs pierced his artery.

    His blood filled my mouth, and every time he pumped into me, more of that precious liquid spilled over my tongue. I drank deep while he fucked me, and then it came. The moment that brings vampire blood donors back for more. The stinging pain of the bite changed, and the pleasure rode him. He cried out, fingers digging so hard into my skin I would be bruised, and his rhythm became more vigorous as the ecstasy of the bite mingled with the cresting orgasm from our wild coupling. I pulled back, licking the wound to seal it, and gasped as his thumb circled my core while he drove into me, pushing us both over the edge.

    We collapsed onto the forest floor, too exhausted and bleary-eyed to move or speak for a long, long time. When we finally disentangled our sweaty limbs, he looked at me with astonishment. ¡°I don¡¯t know what to say.¡±

    I smiled at him, one eye half-open. ¡°You can start with thank you.¡±

    Chapter Thirty-One

    Ceremony night.

    I was a bouquet of raw nerves.

    Considering everything that could possibly have gone wrong on this trip had gone wrong, I was certain a disaster of Titanic proportions was waiting for us at the ceremony site. Lucas was so positive it would run smoothly he wasn¡¯t willing to accept that anything bad might happen.

    I wasn¡¯t willing to listen when he said it would all be fine.

    How could it be fine?

    The closest I¡¯d come to shifting since I was a baby had been in a do-or-die moment, and I hadn¡¯t a clue as to how I¡¯d shifted my hand then. How was I supposed to turn myself into a wolf when I¡¯d spent my adult life burying the ability as deep inside of me as I could?

    We¡¯d been given black robes to wear for the ritual. I guess the wolves didn¡¯t see much point in dressing up when they would be getting naked again to change forms. When Lucas and I left our cabin, there was a trail of lit tiki torches lining the way into the woods. Although no proper path existed, after years of wolves trekking the same way into the woods, a groove had long ago been worn into the forest.

    We followed the queue of black-cloaked wolves as they made their way to the site. Some chatted casually, like this was nothing out of the ordinary. Others bowed their heads in quiet contemplation, clearly viewing their shift as a kind of religious experience.

    Dominick walked behind us, Morgan and Jackson in front. Eugenia and Ben worked their way into the pilgrimage a little farther up the path, and she looked back, throwing me a smile and a wave. I waved back but couldn¡¯t make my lips form a smile.

    I was going to throw up.

    I remembered my imaginary top-ten list of worst experiences ever. If I got into the ceremony circle and didn¡¯t shift¡­well maybe the whole damned list would have to be revisited.

    Sensing my unease, Lucas took my hand, and we walked that way for the rest of the journey. He¡¯d been looking at me differently since our woodland sexcapades. An expression somewhere between reverence and worry. Who knew what was going on in his head? He hadn¡¯t tried for a second round.

 Page 30

    We arrived at the ceremony site, amongst the last to show up except for Callum. When Lucas and I entered the circle, the whole pack bowed their heads as one. Callum entered behind us, and they all removed their hoods and lowered to the ground, bowing before him.

    ¡°Let the ceremonial fire be lit,¡± he commanded, his huge voice filling the circle of trees like he were wearing a microphone.

    A middle-aged pack member pulled one of the torches from the ground and threw it onto the fire pit. The flame caught instantly, roaring to life with hot ferocity, its crackling arms reaching to the sky, trying to consume all the oxygen. It was as if the fire wanted to burn the night itself.

    Heat licked my face, and I blinked at the sudden brilliance of a secondary sun in our midst.

    ¡°We have a special treat tonight,¡± Callum announced. ¡°Tonight we will bear witness to the union of two royals, a very rare event indeed. Our own Secret McQueen will wed her mate Lucas Rain, and we will celebrate their love when we make our change.¡±

    There were so many wolves here, so much energy in one place. Between the barely contained animal wildness and the heat of the fire, I felt like I was being electrocuted. It was thrilling, but more than anything it was scaring the crap out of me.

    Callum guided Lucas and me to the head of the circle, and before I had a chance to have any more second thoughts, the ceremony had begun.

    ¡°Lucas Rain, son of Jeremiah, King of the Eastern pack. You stand before us in good faith. Do you declare your intention is to marry our pack daughter, Secret McQueen?¡±

    ¡°It is.¡±

    ¡°You will be her mate, her protector, and your strength will be her strength?¡±

    ¡°It will.¡±

    My heart throbbed inside my mouth when Callum turned his attention to me. ¡°Secret McQueen, daughter of Mercy, Princess of the Southern pack. You stand before us in good faith. Do you declare your intention is to marry the Eastern king, Lucas Rain?¡±

    No, my brain screamed.

    ¡°It is,¡± my mouth said, defiant.

    ¡°You will be his mate, his protector, and your strength will be his strength?¡±

    No, no, no.

    ¡°It will.¡±

    ¡°The knife.¡± Callum held out his hand to no one in particular. Someone in the pack knew their role, because suddenly an old dagger was in his palm. ¡°Your hands,¡± he instructed Lucas and me.

    We held out our hands, and Callum dragged a cut through each of our palms. He bisected my long lifeline, and I felt the sudden urge to cry or scream and throw myself to the ground. I wanted to run far and fast and be gone from here.

    Instead I stared stupidly at the blood pooling in the cup of my hand.

    ¡°Blood to blood.¡±

    Lucas and I said it in unison, ¡°Blood to blood.¡±

    ¡°Love forever.¡±

    ¡°Love forever,¡± we parroted.

    Callum took hold of our hands and slapped our bloody palms together. ¡°Now and always.¡±

    Lucas said it, but my mouth just moved soundlessly.

    You stupid fool.

    It was too late anyway. The moment our skin met something extraordinary happened. Energy flared between us like a living thing. I staggered back, but his hand held mine tight. A light flared between our clasped hands, pure white and brighter than the fire. The wolves closest to us had to look away, but I stood transfixed, blinded by the magic we had created.

    The light swelled outwards, enveloping Lucas and me in a bubble of cool, quiet energy where there was nothing¡ªno sound, no people, just me and him in pure, perfect harmony with each other. Then the light retreated in on itself like a reverse big bang, sending my hair swirling and shaking the hem of my cloak.

    It collapsed into nothingness with a loud pop.

    I gasped for air.

    Lucas was wide-eyed.

    We pulled our hands apart, and I looked at my palm. Nothing, not a bloodstain, no sign of a scar. As if the cut had never happened. I healed fast, but no one could heal a deep cut in five seconds. Even a vampire needed to concentrate in order to heal.

    This was magic, pure and simple.

    ¡°Congratulations,¡± Callum said, seeming a little wobbly. I¡¯d never been through a werewolf wedding ritual, but I had a feeling it wasn¡¯t supposed to happen like this. ¡°You are now Queen of the Eastern wolves.¡±

    Great, and I¡¯d just started getting used to princess.

    The circle of wolves bowed before me, as low now as they had for Lucas, and they spoke as one, ¡°Your Majesty.¡±

    Creepy.

    I rubbed my hands together self-consciously and gave a weak smile. ¡°Thanks.¡±

    ¡°Now,¡± Callum continued, clapping his hands together and shucking his robe off his broad shoulders. ¡°Let¡¯s get onto the fun stuff.¡±

    The wolf chorus howled their approval, and I remembered what I¡¯d really been afraid of.

    Getting married had been the easy part of my night.

    Lucas took my hand, and I jumped. ¡°It¡¯ll be fine,¡± he soothed.

    Callum called to Lucas, and my¡­husband shook his robe free. The two naked kings stood in front of the fire, their skin glowing gold in the light, and not an ounce of fat between them.

    ¡°Have you ever done this with another king?¡± Callum asked.

    ¡°No, you?¡±

    ¡°Never.¡±

    ¡°Should be interesting,¡± Lucas said, his smile wolfish and a touch crazy.

    ¡°Count of three.¡±

    ¡°One¡­¡± The moon broke out from behind a puff of cloud, bathing us all in a cool, silver light.

    ¡°Two¡­¡± The entire circle dropped their robes. I wanted to cling to mine, but it seemed stupid to be the only one clothed in a crowd of butt-naked shapeshifters.

    ¡°Three.¡± Lucas spoke last, and when the final vowel slipped past his lips, he exploded.

    First I thought Eugenia had turned from cabins to launching her magic at other wolves. A yelp escaped my lips, and then I realized what was happening. Lucas¡¯s skin tore apart at seams that shouldn¡¯t have been there, shredded by the tendons and muscles expanding under the surface. His beautiful face cracked, pushed outward by shards of bone forming into a hideous snout. Lucas¡¯s jaws opened, too big for his face now, and when the skin fell away, he yawned wide, exposing a mouthful of teeth that would make even the deadliest predator wet himself. All of what had once been my Lucas was gone, and in its place was a massive wolf, its coat gleaming golden blond in the fire.

    This had all taken mere seconds.

    New magic hit then, a wave of it slamming into the circle like the aftershock of a nuclear bomb. I was taken to the ground as the magic burned my skin, but it wasn¡¯t a human scream coming from me, it was an animal howl.

    The shift took me hard. I tried to focus on the scene in front of me, three dozen wolves toppled simultaneously by the change, the power of two Alphas making it impossible for them to resist their animal forms.

    I struggled, but the magic clawed me under. I was trying to surface, trying to grab at humanity, but the wolf inside me was done listening to my rules. I¡¯d kept her buried deep for decades, and she wanted out. Now. Her kings were calling her. A pack command was too great. It mattered more to her than my desire to stay human.

    Her king had said come.

    And by God she would obey.

    Chapter Thirty-Two

    I screamed, but it was pointless.

    I fought, but one simply cannot fight against themselves.

    My spine cracked, driving me to all fours, and my shoulder dislocated, twisting backwards. This torturous buckling was mirrored by my hips until my legs were bent in the wrong direction. Fingers and toes grew and burst from my skin, not as bones but as claws. I screamed again, and my jaws split the moment I opened my mouth, turning my wailing into a wet gurgle.

    I expected it to hurt because the memory of past pain told me what was happening should be excruciating. But it wasn¡¯t. It wasn¡¯t fun, but the discomfort wasn¡¯t unbearable. And once I stopped fighting, it went faster, with more fluidity and grace.

    Seconds ticked away, and when I opened my eyes, the world had gone grayscale.

    I tested my feet, unaccustomed to using four of them, but the wolf was riding me now and not vice versa. She had control, and she knew what she was doing.

    Free, she whispered.

    Yes, I suppose she was.

    Lucas¡ªhis wolf form as beautiful as his human form¡ªcame to me then and rubbed his head under my muzzle. He gave a bark, as if to say I told you so.

    I nipped his cheek. He flashed his impressive teeth at me.

    The pack shook the last dregs of humanity off themselves and went about smelling and licking and play-biting. I sat back on my haunches and watched, amazed I could still understand it from a human perspective. I guess I should have been grateful to my wolf for letting me ride shotgun.

    Run, she commanded. Must run.

    I got to all fours again, my body a coiled spring, tense with energy. Callum yipped at Lucas, and the two kings took off, running with an uncomplicated joy into the woods. My wolf howled, a high, pure, thrilling sound. One by one the pack joined us, until we all sang in chorus.

    Then we ran.

    My claws dug into the soft ground, tearing up chunks of moss as I charged forward. Wolves streamed past me. So many wolves, and all of them so big. Their coats were a rainbow of grays to my new eyes. We followed Callum and Lucas, but everyone did it in their own way, chasing zigzag paths through the underbrush.

    Free, my wolf sang. Free, free, free.

    That freedom was more addictive than any drug, more pure and beautiful than love itself. I¡¯d never felt anything as sweet and rich as the joy my wolf felt running among the pack. Why had I kept this from myself for so long? What kind of fool denied themselves such perfection?

    Yes, she whispered. Be wild.

    And from the passenger seat I let her have her way.

    One moment we were within the ranks of the pack, and the next she veered left and into the darkness. Only there wasn¡¯t darkness. Every tree glowed faintly, every object visible as if outlined in the light of the moon for our eyes.

    But where the hell were we going?

    Be wild.

    Yes, but couldn¡¯t we be wild with the rest of the pack?

    My wolf growled and ran on.

    No, this was wrong. This defied common sense.

 Page 31

    What is sense?

    Well shit. Now I remembered why I didn¡¯t let her come out to play. The wolf was wild. She was unruly. She had no attachment to humanity, and I hadn¡¯t spent twenty-three years teaching her to respect pack law.

    My wolf didn¡¯t give a shit about rules because I¡¯d never taught her any.

    I¡¯d just caged her and thought nothing of the damage it might do.

    I got hold of myself, remembering what it meant to be in control, and I screamed for her to stop. She fought me, but we staggered, tripping over our legs, and she was forced to stop running or we would go face first into a tree.

    Bitch.

    Well if that wasn¡¯t the pot calling the kettle black.

    We were going to run with the pack or we wouldn¡¯t run at all. I concentrated and used everything in me to command control over our body. We sat.

    My wolf form was a panting, trembling mess.

    Run, she insisted.

    I kept us sitting. We twitched. My wolf mouth sighed and whined.

    Slowly, one paw at a time, we got back on all fours.

    Run?

    This body was mine, and if she wanted to run, we would go the direction I chose. I turned us back the direction we came. She fought, trying to spin us deeper into the woods. Again, we sat. I waited, my control here weak, tenuous. I was just slips of consciousness inside a wild animal. No one expected animals to use good judgment.

    Fine.

    I let up, and we started running again, this time back towards the smells and sounds of the pack. She didn¡¯t fight me anymore. Instead she loped onwards, tongue lolling out like a blissful dog. Then I smelled it. My sense of smell was intense, almost too finely tuned in this form. I¡¯d adjusted to the aroma of the forest, to the sharp odor of the other wolves, but this smell was alien and wrong.

    Human.

    Metal.

    We skidded to a stop, smelling the air. I yipped a warning.

    Too little, too late.

    The flash from the muzzle rendered me blind. The crack of the bullet exiting from the chamber brought deafness. All I could smell was peppery smoke.

    And when the metal slug ate its way through my fur and into my body, my wolf and I screamed in unison.

    When it came to pain, we were of one mind.

    I didn¡¯t remember shifting back.

    At first I didn¡¯t know if it had been seconds or hours since I¡¯d been shot, but it must have been the former because the sound of a body leaping from a tree was what brought me out of my fog. I tried to stand, but whatever gun he¡¯d used, the bullet packed a whopper of a punch.

    Strong arms helped me to my feet, and I lashed out until the cool, familiar scent of vampire washed over me.

    ¡°Hold on,¡± Holden said, scooping me up into his arms.

    Under normal circumstances that would have been when I pointed out I had working legs. Only right then they didn¡¯t seem to want to cooperate, so I let him carry me as he ran. Another shot rang out, splintering the tree trunk closest to us in a shower of wood chips and moss.

    Holden didn¡¯t let up until we were back at the compound.

    When we arrived at my cabin, he tried to make me lie in the bed, but I refused. Finally we compromised with the porch swing, where he wrapped me in an old quilt from the back of the couch.

    ¡°Get a knife,¡± I whispered, my throat raw.

    ¡°Why?¡±

    I parted the blanket and showed him the hole between my ribs. The area around the entry wound had begun to blacken, the infection snaking out with thin fingerlike lines, crawling towards the unblemished skin of my torso.

    ¡°Silver,¡± I said.

    ¡°Fuck.¡± He ran back into the cabin, and I watched the tree line, waiting for either the assassin or the pack. I wasn¡¯t sure which one I hoped would come first. Metal rattled, and a moment later Holden returned with a steak knife. ¡°I¡¯m sorry,¡± he said.

    I rolled onto my side, exposing my injured ribs. ¡°Don¡¯t apologize unless you can¡¯t get it out.¡±

    The knife was dull, but it was steel so even the pain of the unsharpened edge sawing a hole into my flesh didn¡¯t hurt as much as the poisonous pellet inside me. Once he¡¯d cleared a big enough path, Holden stuck his fingers deep into the channel carved by the bullet, snaking his way after it.

    I whimpered, not bothering to fight against the tears pouring from me.

    He found something. I could tell because his fingers got tense.

    When he pulled his hand out with a wet, sucking sound, his fingers were smoking from the bullet pinched between them. He threw the bloody object, so small and unassuming, onto the deck, where it sat covered in blood. It looked so harmless. Just a gob of metal.

    I buried my head in my arms.

    When I looked up again, Holden was gone and a dozen werewolves in their naked human form stood in a half-circle around me.

    Lucas appeared confused until he saw the knife and the bloody bullet.

    ¡°Someone told them where I was,¡± I said.

    ¡°Someone shot you?¡±

    I nodded, but it hurt. For the third time in two weeks someone had tried to ventilate my body with silver bullets. That combined with my foray into the swamp with the Loups-Garous? Well, needless to say I¡¯d had my fill of this little vacation.

    ¡°I want to go home.¡±

    Chapter Thirty-Three

    New York, New York. Home of the Empire State Building, Times Square, the Brooklyn Bridge, and the best place on Earth. My apartment.

    I hadn¡¯t spoken much since we left Louisiana. Callum had been more than willing to give his blessing for us to fly out of Baton Rouge, so not only did we not need to drive two hours back to New Orleans, we also didn¡¯t need to go anywhere near Maurepas.

    Good riddance.

    Family might be all well and good, but if the McQueens ever wanted to see me again, they¡¯d have to haul their Southern asses north, because with God as my witness I would never again set foot in the great state of Louisiana.

    Dominick dropped me off at my front door, and Lucas reminded me we had a meeting with Kimberly the next evening to discuss the final details of our ceremony. I thought I was being pretty gracious when I said, ¡°Fuck Kimberly and whatever white horse she¡¯s hired for you to ride in on.¡±

    Lucas, having already spent the last several hours with my silver-poisoned surliness, just smiled. ¡°We¡¯ll pick you up at seven.¡±

    I grabbed my bag and stomped into my apartment like a grizzly bear with a stubbed toe.

    Rio was waiting for me.

    ¡°Brreow?¡±

    ¡°I missed you too.¡±

    I dropped my bag on the floor, and she skittered under the loveseat.

    Desmond came out of the bedroom, looking deliciously huggable in a soft gray cardigan over a Led Zeppelin T-shirt and his paper-thin at-home jeans. ¡°I thought I heard a circus setting up shop out here. But nope, no elephants. Just my girl.¡±

    I wish that had been the first time someone had compared me to an elephant.

    ¡°I¡¯m so glad you¡¯re here,¡± I sighed.

    ¡°Where else would I be?¡± He smiled. ¡°I live here.¡±

    I crossed the room in two steps and threw myself into his arms.

    Desmond sneezed. He set me down and sneezed again. ¡°Are you wearing perfume?¡±

    ¡°No.¡± I never wore perfume. It would be scent overload.

    He licked his lips, and a devastated look came over him all at once. He pulled me close, his nose dragging along my neck, and again he sneezed, harder this time.

    ¡°Jesus, Des. Are you allergic to me or something?¡± I was kidding, but the look on his face was too serious to ignore.

    ¡°Can you taste me?¡± he asked, his voice tight with fear.

    ¡°Of course I¡ª¡± But I had to stop when I realized I hadn¡¯t really thought about it. I touched my tongue to my lips. Sucked the inside of my cheeks. Breathed cool air between my teeth. Nothing. Nothing to remind me of margaritas, or key lime pie, or popsicles. ¡°No. I can¡¯t.¡±

    Pain chased worry though his eyes, and he pushed me away.

    ¡°You and Lucas¡­you completed the ceremony, didn¡¯t you? During the full moon.¡±

    I¡¯d planned to tell him, but I had hoped we might have more than five minutes together before I had to.

    ¡°Yes.¡±

    ¡°We were supposed to have time, Secret.¡±

    ¡°I didn¡¯t know. We hadn¡¯t planned for it to happen there. I didn¡¯t even know what it was.¡± I reached for him, but he sidestepped my touch.

    ¡°All I can smell is him. I can¡¯t taste you anymore.¡±

    ¡°Desmond¡­¡±

    He sat on the couch, staring at the fireplace. ¡°He told me he¡¯d wait. He told me it would be at least another month.¡± He was talking to himself, but the words cut me like tiny little knives.

    ¡°Desmond, look at me.¡±

    ¡°It was bad enough when he said he¡¯d send me away if I made a fuss. But this¡­¡± He turned to me, nothing but naked anguish written on his features. ¡°How could you let him do this?¡±

    ¡°We had to.¡±

    ¡°Is that what he told you?¡± Desmond laughed, and it wasn¡¯t a pleasant sound. ¡°Because he¡¯s been so fucking honest with you in the past?¡±

    I came to stand in front of him, kneeling on the carpet between his legs. I took his hands, and this time he didn¡¯t fight me. I kissed his fingertips and held them over my heart. ¡°He didn¡¯t tell me this would impact you and me. I swear to you.¡±

    ¡°Of course he didn¡¯t.¡±

    ¡°But believe me when I say we had no choice.¡±

    ¡°There¡¯s always a choice.¡±

    I shook my head. ¡°When has free will ever come before the needs of the pack?¡±

    He opened his mouth then closed it. His brow furrowed. ¡°When did the needs of the pack ever outweigh what you wanted?¡± Those words hurt me more than a slap would have. Wasn¡¯t I doing all of this for the pack? Did he honestly think I wanted this? ¡°Did you stop to think about what this would do?¡±

    ¡°Yes.¡± My throat felt thick, and it was hard to form words.

    ¡°Did you think of me at all?¡±

    ¡°Yes.¡± I squeezed his hand tight. There was a wetness to his long black lashes that hadn¡¯t been there before.

 Page 32

    He stood so suddenly I fell backwards and had to release his hand.

    ¡°I¡¯ll make sure you have a new queen¡¯s guard before the night is through.¡±

    ¡°I¡­ What?¡±

    ¡°You really don¡¯t understand what¡¯s changed, do you?¡±

    ¡°Lucas and I completed the mate ceremony.¡±

    ¡°He¡¯s marked you. Not like the mate-bond. He¡¯s written himself all over you. Inside you, even. It¡¯s like a tattoo on every part of your being telling other wolves to fuck off. It tells them you¡¯re his. It tells me you¡¯re his.¡±

    ¡°But I¡ª¡±

    ¡°No. This isn¡¯t something you can rationalize around, Secret. This is something neither of us has a say in anymore. You belong to Lucas. You¡¯re not mine anymore.¡±

    He walked into the bedroom, and I was right on his heels. ¡°You can¡¯t go.¡±

    ¡°I have to. I can¡¯t look at you without seeing him.¡± Stooping in the closet, he started throwing things on the bed.

    ¡°But I love you.¡±

    He stood up, a duffel bag in his hand. The bag dropped, and he crossed the room, pulling me in for a hug that hurt as much as it comforted. ¡°I know.¡±

    ¡°I love you more.¡± More than Lucas. More than the pack.

    Desmond tilted his head back. Our gazes locked, and for a fraction of a second I thought it was enough. I thought the power of love alone would break through whatever was ripping us apart and we¡¯d be okay again.

    ¡°And I love you. I do. I love you so much you¡¯re the first thing I think about when I wake up and the last thought that crosses my mind before I fall asleep. Loving you is the one thing in life that comes easy to me.¡± He pressed his hand over my heart, and one tear broke free, landing near his thumb. I choked back a sob. ¡°I love you enough to leave.¡±

    I grabbed him when he tried to break away, yanking him back and kissing him. It wasn¡¯t passionate, it was needy and desperate, my urgency laid raw as I foraged past his lips and tried to make him remember the part of us worth fighting for.

    I tried to appeal to the part of him that knew I hadn¡¯t given up on us. That knew I¡¯d never give up.

    He broke away and wiped a pink tear off my cheek.

    ¡°I have to go,¡± he whispered.

    ¡°No.¡±

    ¡°It¡¯s not up for debate.¡±

    ¡°You just said there¡¯s always a choice. You can¡¯t have it both ways.¡± I grabbed the duffel bag from him and threw it back in the closet. ¡°I almost died out there.¡± I lifted my shirt and showed him the new bullet scar between my ribs.

    He sat on the bed, and for a moment I was reminded of our first fight in this bedroom.

    I pleaded with him, using his own words from that fight. ¡°You told me once nothing could match how you feel when you¡¯re with me. So stay with me.¡±

    ¡°It¡¯s different now.¡±

    ¡°Why?¡±

    ¡°Because now you¡¯re really his.¡±

    ¡°I don¡¯t belong to Lucas. I don¡¯t belong to anyone.¡±

    He looked at me, and that one look said it all. One look broke my heart. ¡°No. You don¡¯t belong to anyone. You don¡¯t belong to me. Not anymore.¡±

    The bag re-emerged from the closet, and he put his things in it. I sat in the chair by the door and watched him. The tears didn¡¯t come now. I didn¡¯t cry or scream. I didn¡¯t say a thing as he packed up his half of the life we¡¯d built together like all we were were items in a drawer.

    When he went to the door and pulled on his jacket, I stood in the middle of the living room and let out one shuddering wheeze.

    ¡°I¡¯m sorry,¡± he said, like apologizing would somehow heal the hole he was punching in my lungs.

    ¡°Then don¡¯t go.¡±

    He shook his head. ¡°I can¡¯t stay. Seeing him all over you¡­ I can¡¯t touch you with him on you. I can¡¯t be here with the constant reminder. I love you, but I can¡¯t be the loser who held on long after the battle was lost.¡±

    ¡°It¡¯s not¡­¡±

    ¡°It¡¯s over.¡±

    ¡°But¡ª¡±

    ¡°I want to love you. But if I do it like this¡­it will kill me.¡±

    He stepped through the open door and closed it behind him.

    Chapter Thirty-Four

    The following places are within a two-block radius of my house¡ªa liquor store, a fae-run weapon shop and a grocery store. I visited all three in the hour after Desmond left me.

    Leary Fallon¡ªthe merman or whatever the male version of a siren is¡ªwho ran the weaponry didn¡¯t want to sell me a new gun. He looked at my streaked mascara and the paper bag with two bottles of Jameson whiskey in it and shook his head.

    ¡°I don¡¯t facilitate suicides, McQueen.¡±

    ¡°Fuck you, Fallon. I¡¯m getting married in three days.¡±

    ¡°Yeah, do you know what the leading cause of suicide is?¡±

    ¡°Being denied guns?¡±

    ¡°Divorce.¡±

    ¡°Bullshit. Just give me the SIG.¡± I made gimme fingers. I might have already opened one of the Jameson bottles on the way here. Maybe.

    ¡°What are you going to use it for?¡±

    ¡°Feral werewolves took my last one. I need a replacement.¡±

    Leary was a weird-looking guy. Not conventionally handsome at all, but because of the whole dude-siren thing he had an unusual appeal to him. His face was too thin, his hair was too long and his eyes were the color of seaweed. He was wearing a shirt that said, It¡¯s Okay, Pluto, I¡¯m Not a Planet Either.

    Hilarious.

    ¡°I¡¯ll pay double.¡±

    ¡°P226 or P229?¡± He unlocked the glass cabinet and put two guns in front of me. Nice to know money trumped concern for my life. For enough money he would probably turn one of those guns on me himself.

    I almost dropped my bottles.

    ¡°You look like you just saw a ghost.¡±

    Not quite. But I had had a booze-fueled epiphany. ¡°226.¡± I tapped the gun on the right. ¡°How much silver do you have?¡±

    ¡°Only three clips that would work for this. You¡¯d have had to special order if you wanted more.¡±

    ¡°I¡¯ll take them. Do you have a holster I could strap to my thigh?¡±

    ¡°Have you seen this gun? And your thigh?¡± He held up the big weapon then pointed to my leg. ¡°You wouldn¡¯t be able to run for shit.¡±

    ¡°I don¡¯t need to run.¡±

    ¡°Then what the hell do you need a thigh holster for?¡±

    ¡°Because I can¡¯t wear a shoulder holster over my wedding dress.¡±

    A half hour later I emptied my bounty onto the loveseat.

    First, two pints of H?agen-Dazs peanut-butter chocolate ice cream, which the sixteen-year-old at the grocery store assured me was the number-one choice of dumped women in the entire Hell¡¯s Kitchen area. Next, the two bottles of Jameson, one with enough missing that my vision had gone wonky and the bottles appeared blurry, making it look to me like I had four of them. Lastly, a new SIG, three silver bullet clips and a thigh holster that came with the warning, ¡°I hope it isn¡¯t a mermaid gown.¡±

    Leary had thought the joke was hilarious.

    He thought a lot of things were hilarious¡­namely himself.

    I cracked the top of one pint of ice cream, peeled off the protective covering, scooped out a massive spoonful and dumped a shot of whiskey into the crater left behind. Picking up my cell phone, I pressed the number six and went in search of a spoon.

    ¡°Hello?¡±

    ¡°I¡¯m having whiskey and ice cream floats,¡± I announced. Even my voice sounded fuzzy. ¡°Desmond left me.¡±

    ¡°I¡¯ll be there in five minutes.¡±

    Brigit brought reinforcements with her. In Brigit terms that meant Dirty Dancing and a bottle of white moscato wine. For when I decided to take a break from the hard stuff. I didn¡¯t want to take a break from the hard stuff. Every time I stopped drinking for five minutes the booze started to work its way out of my system. If I stopped for too long, I might notice how Desmond¡¯s Xbox was still here or how there was a pair of his runners next to the door.

    If I saw things too clearly, I might have to acknowledge he was really gone and these things were just remnants. Reminders of the man who had walked out the door.

    So I sat on the armchair¡­nope¡­I sat on the floor because the armchair must have moved at the last moment. Floor was comfier anyway. I reached for the Jameson and realized I¡¯d emptied the first bottle already.

    What time was it, anyway?

    ¡°What time is it, anyway?¡±

    ¡°Time for the soothing powers of Patrick Swayze.¡± Brigit took the empty Jameson bottle and replaced it with the wine.

    ¡°I don¡¯t want wine,¡± I snarled.

    ¡°Sure you do.¡±

    ¡°Okay.¡±

    She hit play on the DVD, and Baby started telling us all about her magical summer in the Catskills. I¡¯d never been good at being a girl, but I had to admit there was a soothing power to the movie. By the time Baby and Johnny were having the time of their lives and showing the whole resort how dirty dancing was for everyone, the wine bottle was empty.

    ¡°Bri?¡±

    ¡°Yeah?¡±

    ¡°Is he really gone?¡±

    ¡°I don¡¯t know.¡±

    ¡°I fucked this up, didn¡¯t I?¡±

    Brigit sat behind me, and I noticed the traitorous armchair didn¡¯t dump her on the ground. Brutus.

    ¡°You didn¡¯t do it on purpose.¡±

    ¡°But I hurt him.¡±

    She started to braid my hair, her fingers tracing soothing paths along my scalp. Brigit was great at being a girl.

    ¡°You love him. Sometimes we hurt the people we love. If he didn¡¯t really, really love you back, he wouldn¡¯t have been hurt.¡±

    ¡°Huh.¡± I thought about the logic of her statement, and it made a funny sort of sense. ¡°I don¡¯t know how to fix it.¡±

    ¡°You need to give him time.¡±

    ¡°How much time?¡±

    ¡°It isn¡¯t a set sort of number. Just give him time.¡±

 Page 33

    ¡°I need to know how much.¡±

    She tugged my hair. ¡°Secret, be patient.¡±

    ¡°Make up a number.¡±

    ¡°Twelve days.¡±

    She said it too fast. She was making it up. When I told her so, she took the second bottle of Jameson away before I could open it.

    We watched an infomercial for a juicer, and once it was over I was glad I drank blood instead of disgusting carrot-and-beet-juice blends. I was also sober, and the emptiness of my apartment opened before me so wide that my grief threatened to swallow me whole.

    When Gabriel had left me, I¡¯d promised to never let anyone in again.

    Now I remembered why.

    Chapter Thirty-Five

    Keaty didn¡¯t look happy to see me.

    His mood didn¡¯t improve when I sat down and said, ¡°I need your help.¡±

    He slipped the folder in his hand into his file cabinet and closed the office door behind me. ¡°Where are you on the Gerry case?¡±

    I knew he was going to get on me about my outstanding projects for him, like a parent who can never be thankful for all the things done right and only focuses on how you forgot to do the dishes. This was Keaty¡¯s way, and I was prepared for it.

    I threw an envelope full of hundred dollar bills on his desk. The money spilled out dramatically, all seven thousand dollars worth. Not our biggest payout, but seventy hundred-dollar bills looks pretty pimp when it¡¯s fanned out on a desk.

    ¡°What¡¯s this?¡±

    ¡°I closed the Gerry case.¡±

    ¡°Did you¡ª¡±

    I threw a folder on top of the money. ¡°Paperwork is done.¡±

    I¡¯d actually completed the case a week before leaving for Louisiana but hadn¡¯t taken the time to tell him.

    He counted out thirty bills and handed them to me. ¡°Good work.¡±

    ¡°I need your help.¡±

    ¡°I¡¯m all ears.¡± Sure he was, now. Amazing how four grand in pocket could perk up someone¡¯s listening skills.

    ¡°Someone has hired people to kill me.¡±

    There was something in this sentence that really got Keaty¡¯s attention, and it wasn¡¯t that someone wanted me dead. Neither of us was terribly surprised by this.

    ¡°Hired? You¡¯re sure?¡±

    ¡°I am.¡±

    ¡°What makes you think it¡¯s a professional job?¡±

    ¡°First, they tailed my car halfway to Lucas¡¯s mansion and tried to do me, Brigit and Kellen in on the highway. Then they knew when I¡¯d be at Kleinfeld and tried to gun me down in public. He killed himself instead of being taken into custody. He clearly didn¡¯t want anyone asking any questions. And two days ago they came after me in Louisiana. It¡¯s professional work if they¡¯re finding me places that aren¡¯t part of my routine and they aren¡¯t being subtle about their efforts.¡±

    ¡°Hmm.¡±

    ¡°Yes. Hmm indeed.¡±

    ¡°Under normal circumstances I would ask if you had any enemies, but¡­¡±

    I threw another paper on his desk. This one was a list, and it was a list no human should have ever been given. ¡°That¡¯s the name of every werewolf in the Eastern pack. Not just Manhattan wolves, every wolf in Lucas¡¯s pack. Someone isn¡¯t happy about our wedding, and I think that someone is on the list.¡±

    ¡°So what makes you think it isn¡¯t werewolves themselves attacking you?¡±

    ¡°The guy at Kleinfeld was human. And there was no way a wolf could have maintained human form in Louisiana to shoot me. No way. It had to be humans.¡±

    ¡°And you want me to¡­¡±

    ¡°I don¡¯t know, Keaty. Work your weird P.I. magic. Look at bank records. See if there¡¯s anyone on the list who writes crazy letters to Congress or has a brother who really likes collecting guns. Investigate.¡±

    ¡°My time is valuable, McQueen.¡±

    ¡°And my life isn¡¯t?¡±

    We stared at each other. I chucked my three grand back on his desk. Easy come easy go.

    ¡°I¡¯ll see what I can do.¡±

    ¡°Work fast. I¡¯m getting married on Friday.¡±

    ¡°Mmhmm.¡±

    ¡°That¡¯s tomorrow, in case you¡¯d missed the memo.¡±

    ¡°I hadn¡¯t.¡±

    ¡°Your RSVP must have gotten lost in the mail. I¡¯ll see you at The Columbia. Nine thirty sharp, the ceremony is at ten. Rent a tux.¡± I got up and pushed the list closer to him with one finger.

    ¡°I own a tuxedo.¡±

    ¡°Then dust it off.¡±

    I was halfway between Keaty¡¯s brownstone and Central Park when Sig called.

    ¡°If your young Mister Chancery is to be believed, I owe him several debts of gratitude. It would have been quite inconvenient to have to explain to the council why we needed a new Tribunal leader.¡±

    ¡°Nice to hear your voice too.¡±

    ¡°I trust your vacation was invigorating.¡±

    ¡°I feel like a new woman.¡±

    ¡°Yes, I can imagine.¡±

    ¡°Sig, not that I don¡¯t love our little conversations, but is there something I can do for you?¡±

    ¡°Perhaps invest in a personal calendar.¡±

    ¡°Pardon me?¡±

    ¡°It¡¯s Thursday.¡±

    ¡°Yes, and what¡¯s your¡ª?¡± Oh, Jesus. Today was the day the council would announce their decision about making Brigit a ward, and I¡¯d totally forgotten. I felt like an asshole of epic proportions. ¡°Is Brigit already there?¡±

    ¡°Waiting very patiently, yes.¡±

    ¡°I¡¯m on my way.¡±

    Chapter Thirty-Six

    I wasn¡¯t dressed for the council.

    Jeans and a hoodie with thumbholes ripped in the sleeves didn¡¯t scream authority figure, and I already had a hard enough time getting the council to respect my authority.

    It didn¡¯t help that when I said ¡°respect my authority¡± in my head, it was in the voice of Cartman from South Park.

    I needed to put on something more appropriate or I risked making them change their minds about letting Brigit become a warden. If my holey-kneed jeans were the reason she didn¡¯t get the position, my asshole status would be assured.

    I barged into my apartment, texting Lucas with one hand to tell him he¡¯d have to see Kimberly without me, while my other hand pulled my clothes off. I was topless and halfway out of my pants before I realized I wasn¡¯t alone.

    ¡°Don¡¯t let me stop you,¡± Holden said from his place in the armchair. ¡°I was enjoying the show.¡±

    I threw my hoodie at him. ¡°Make yourself useful. I need to be dressed for council in three minutes.¡± If I had a fashion editor in my living room, I was going to put him to work.

    We went opposite ways, he into my bedroom where he would make himself at home in my closet, and me to the bathroom where I would attempt to scrape off last night¡¯s booze-induced pity party and the exhausted patina it had left on my face.

    He mumbled something from the other room.

    ¡°Are you bitching about my wardrobe again?¡± I would be pissed if he was. I¡¯d spent a lot of time and money making it into something respectable since I¡¯d joined the Tribunal. Nothing in my closet was comfortable, but at least I looked hot in it.

    I splashed cold water onto my face, and when I straightened, his reflection was next to mine in the mirror. I yelped. ¡°Christ, Holden, do I need to put a little bell on you?¡±

    He continued to speak like I hadn¡¯t even opened my mouth. ¡°What I said was, I was here to see if you¡¯re doing all right. After¡­you know.¡± His eyes drifted down to the gray scar on my side. It would whiten over time like the sword wound it was next to. But they¡¯d never heal completely. That was silver for you. I had another white line on my arm and a second star-shaped one on my shoulder from the first assassin¡¯s highway attempt.

    For someone who was supposed to be able to heal anything, I was starting to show a lot of permanent damage.

    ¡°I¡¯m fine.¡±

    ¡°Where¡¯s your pet dog?¡±

    With those four words he undid all the healing I thought I¡¯d done, proving once and for all there were plenty of wounds I couldn¡¯t keep from reopening.

    ¡°What did I say? Jesus, stop crying. I don¡¯t do crying.¡± He ripped a wad of toilet paper off the roll and shoved it in my face. ¡°Especially women crying. It makes them ugly.¡±

    I hiccupped and almost laughed.

    ¡°You would find an insult funny, wouldn¡¯t you?¡±

    I wiped away the tears and threw more water on myself, taking a few shaky breaths to get myself back under control. I¡¯d managed to stop before I got all raw and snot-nosed. There was no Kleenex left in my apartment after last night, between the tears and the tear-induced boogers. God, he was right, crying made people hideous.

    ¡°Sorry.¡±

    ¡°You should be, that was awful.¡± But he was smiling in a worried way.

    ¡°What did you find me to wear?¡±

    ¡°Well, I picked this, but I think I might need to go back and get something more absorbent.¡± He held up a bundle of red satin straps that bore no resemblance to anything that would cover me, but I knew better. I¡¯d bought it, after all.

    ¡°Get out so I can change.¡± I shoved him towards the door.

    ¡°Nothing I haven¡¯t seen before.¡±

    ¡°Nothing you¡¯re going to see again.¡± I slammed the bathroom door in his leering face.

    When I came out a minute later I had made my hair into something resembling a French twist, I was wearing enough makeup to cover my swollen eyes, and had managed to make the puffiness work in my favor by emphasizing it with a lot of smoky eyeshadow. I looked squinty and mysterious.

    The dress, too, had been transformed. It was no longer a motley collection of fabric strips. Once the dress was on it was a plunging V-neck with straps crisscrossing from front to back in a woven tapestry that would all come undone if someone were to pull the tie at the nape of my neck.

    It was a dangerous dress, but right then it was what I needed.

    Holden let out a whistle and handed me a pair of silver stiletto sandals. ¡°Now there¡¯s the Secret I know and¡­know.¡±

 Page 34

    I tried to smile, but it didn¡¯t quite work.

    ¡°Come on.¡± He wound his arm around my shoulder and pulled me towards the door. ¡°Let¡¯s get you to your adoring fans.¡±

    I snorted. ¡°Oh yes, they can¡¯t get enough of me.¡±

    ¡°Well at least you¡¯ll be dressed and ready for after.¡±

    ¡°After?¡±

    He handed me the hot pink card that had been stuck to my fridge. Oh God, Sig wasn¡¯t kidding. I really did need a fucking agenda. I think my stupid new fancy phone had a calendar. The card in my hand had clip-art images of martini glasses and handcuffs on it and said, She¡¯s still single¡­but not for long.

    Mercedes wasn¡¯t exactly a Photoshop wiz, but the invitations were cute.

    And I¡¯d totally forgotten about it in the excitement and near-death of the last week and a half.

    Tonight was my goddamned bachelorette party.

    Chapter Thirty-Seven

    My heels clacked on the tile floor of the council headquarters. I couldn¡¯t recall ever seeing the space empty before, especially since nighttime was when vampires did all their work. But here I was, alone in the great room with nary a soul in sight, and all the lights were dimmed.

    It was creepy as hell.

    Holden had escorted me the whole way but had declined my offer to accompany me inside. He was going to wait at the small SoHo coffeehouse across the street until I was finished. I wondered why he refused to go to the perfectly good Starbucks two doors down, but I think most vampires were leery of Starbucks because of Calliope.

    The last thing anyone needed was to accidentally slip into another reality when all they wanted was a cappuccino.

    I hesitated before the door leading down to the sublevels. What could I do or say that hadn¡¯t already been done? Were there any words or gestures left that might help Brigit get what she deserved?

    Sighing, I pulled the door open and made the descent into the basement. When I¡¯d come before the Tribunal in the past, the steps had felt perilous to go down, the stone always slick and designed to put people in a state of unbalance, literally and mentally. Now that I¡¯d been one of them for all these months, the steps didn¡¯t faze me anymore. I jogged down them with as much speed as my constrictive dress would allow, and my shoes made a dreadful echo the whole way.

    As Holden once said, a troupe of elephants might have announced themselves with more subtlety.

    I didn¡¯t bother knocking at the council suite¡ªI just pushed the doors open.

    Sometimes you have one of those moments where you come into a room and everyone stops talking all at once, making you absolutely certain they¡¯ve recently been talking about you. This was like that, but a million times worse since everyone was staring at the door and no one had been talking to begin with.

    Brigit stood in the circle of light in the middle of the room, wearing a simple black dress and leather ballet flats. Her hair was pushed away from her face with a headband and hung in a long, flaxen sheet down her back. I smiled apologetically and walked past her to cross the floor.

    ¡°I¡¯m sorry, Secret, did we inconvenience you?¡± Juan Carlos said. Was it me or did his sneer seem deeper than ever tonight?

    I sneered right back but didn¡¯t rise to the bait. I saw what had happened last time I let him get my goat in public, and I wasn¡¯t about to repeat those mistakes. Tonight wasn¡¯t about my pride, however wounded it had become over the last few days. Tonight was about Brigit.

    Taking my place next to Sig, I addressed the gathered elders. ¡°My apologies for the lateness of my arrival. I trust you weren¡¯t waiting too long?¡±

    Rebecca rose and gave the three of us each a bow. ¡°We are, as always, at the leisure of the Tribunal. No apology is necessary.¡±

    Take that, Juan Carlos. The elders would never in a million years admit a Tribunal leader had put them out in any way. I didn¡¯t bother to look at the Spaniard. I¡¯d stuck it to him without even speaking to him directly.

    ¡°Then if there are no further delays or complaints,¡± Sig said, deflating my feeling of victory with the jab of his words, ¡°may we please continue?¡±

    Much of what we¡¯d gone over at the previous meeting was rehashed, and Juan Carlos made a point of voicing his opposition loudly and often, but in the end this wasn¡¯t up to us. It was up to the elders. After an hour of intense discussion, they requested to be left alone with Brigit.

    In the damp, dark hall I stood next to Sig while Juan Carlos paced like a caged wildcat.

    ¡°If this goes through¡­¡± he growled.

    ¡°Yes, Juan Carlos, please tell me. What sort of life-altering changes to the council do you believe this will cause?¡± Sig was leaning against the stone wall, looking for all the world like he didn¡¯t have a single shit to give about the outcome of this situation.

    ¡°It sets a dangerous precedence.¡±

    ¡°How?¡± I snapped.

    ¡°It shows the council your progeny have special favor.¡±

    ¡°My progeny?¡± I turned from Juan Carlos to Sig. ¡°What the ever loving fuck is he talking about?¡±

    ¡°For all intents and purposes, the council considers Brigit to be your offspring.¡±

    ¡°But she was turned by¡ª¡±

    Sig silenced me with a look so cold a shiver danced down my spine. ¡°It doesn¡¯t matter who turned her, Secret, not anymore. To the council she is yours.¡±

    ¡°But¡ª¡±

    ¡°Because if she was the offspring of anyone else, say a known rogue, she might suffer the same fate as her creator. So it¡¯s a good thing she isn¡¯t.¡±

    I¡¯d never asked what had become of the other girls Peyton had turned. The prostitutes, the ones no one cared about. I¡¯d stopped thinking about them the moment his case had been closed. It never occurred to me they might be killed because of who their sire was.

    Sig had told the council Brigit was mine.

    That¡¯s why she was assigned to me. Why she was allowed to live.

    And it didn¡¯t hurt that it convinced the council my vampire half was strong enough to turn others. He¡¯d saved Brigit and made the elders believe I was more of a vampire than I really was. Juan Carlos knew the truth, but was using the outcome of the lie against me.

    I shut up.

    Maybe he was right. I hadn¡¯t intended to give Brigit an edge because people thought of her as my child, but I¡¯d hoped I could give her an edge because she was my ward. The difference between the two was so slim the edges started to blur together. Could I say I wouldn¡¯t be doing the exact same thing if she really were my creation?

    No. Whether I¡¯d turned her or not, I would be fighting just as hard.

    Sig, seeming to read the thoughts right out of my mind, put one of his large hands on my shoulder and gave it a comforting squeeze. ¡°It is standard for Tribunal leaders to send their progeny to other councils. To make the decision more fair. My own children, those who are based in the states, are mostly on the West Coast. Juan Carlos¡¯s chose to remain in Europe for the most part, but he has a handful in Arizona and Texas. Even the elders tend to send their offspring to other councils.¡±

    ¡°But Holden¡­¡± My former warden had been sired by Rebecca, and to my knowledge both had always been based out of Manhattan.

    ¡°Holden was never a favorite of hers. She didn¡¯t fight for him, he fought for himself.¡±

    The only other spawn of Rebecca¡¯s I knew of had been based out of the West Coast. ¡°Charlie was her favorite. That¡¯s why she sent him to California.¡±

    It was strange to think vampire sires weren¡¯t like parents at all. They were open and vocal about which of their creations they favored over others.

    ¡°Charles did have a certain captivating appeal to him. I think Rebecca was very proud of what she had made.¡±

    ¡°And what you killed,¡± Juan Carlos reminded me.

    ¡°At your orders,¡± I snapped back.

    Sig brushed the palm of his hand over my hair, and a wave of calm washed through me. ¡°We, as sires, must all make sacrifices. Rebecca knew Charles had to be dealt with, and her request alone would not be enough to subdue him. She understood what had to be done.¡±

    Juan Carlos resumed pacing, grumbling under his breath. I wasn¡¯t ready to forgive him for dragging Brigit through the muck and mire, but at least now I understood why he¡¯d dug his heels in so hard. Granted, I think if he liked me, he wouldn¡¯t have resisted quite so much.

    ¡°You should have told me¡­about Brigit.¡±

    ¡°Yes, my dear. I¡¯m sure there are a great many things I should tell you.¡± Sig wasn¡¯t looking at me when he said this, but his hand remained on my arm, and I fought against the fog of peace he was forcing on to me.

    What did he mean?

    I struggled to think of what other things Sig might hide from me, but there was a bottomless pit of possibilities, and my mind couldn¡¯t even begin to sort out the number of ways he could have kept things from me over the years.

    ¡°Tell¡ª¡±

    The doors swung open, and a redheaded elder named Peter stood before us. ¡°The decision has been made.¡±

    Chapter Thirty-Eight

    A chair had been brought out for Brigit, and she now sat with her back to the door so I couldn¡¯t see her face. I wanted to know if they¡¯d told her their decision already, but it seemed unlikely a one-year-old vampire would be privy to the knowledge of her fate before the leaders of her kind would find out.

    Sig, Juan Carlos and I found our seats, and once I saw Brigit¡¯s face it became apparent she was still in the dark about the council¡¯s final stance. She gave me a hopeful smile, and I shrugged one shoulder to tell her I was as clueless as she was.

    ¡°First and foremost,¡± Hansel the chairman began, ¡°we want to thank the Tribunal for bringing us such an¡­engaging candidate for warden status.¡± He smiled in a way that was half exasperation, half amusement. I knew that exact feeling was one Brigit was uniquely capable of eliciting.

    Sig nodded for Hansel to continue.

    ¡°While we were careful to weigh considerations from our Tribunal, ultimately the decision came down to our feelings on the candidate herself. That, paired with the evidence of her commitment to the council over the past year, has left us with only one possible course of action.¡±

 Page 35

    My heart skipped a beat, and every vampire within a ten-foot radius turned to look at me. ¡°Carry on, please,¡± I insisted.

    ¡°The vampire, Brigit Stewart, will henceforth be a warden within our council, with all rights, privileges and duties the title carries with it.¡±

    Brigit, who¡¯d had to say quiet and still for the whole duration of the process, suddenly leaped to her feet with a girlish squeal and clapped her hands, pure delight shining in her eyes. You would think the chairman had told her she¡¯d won the lottery.

    ¡°Thank you. Thank you,¡± she gushed. ¡°I won¡¯t disappoint you, I promise.¡±

    The chairman smiled, obviously quite taken with her.

    Rebecca, who was seated beside Hansel, cleared her throat and got to her feet. ¡°Warden, please sit down.¡±

    Brigit¡¯s ass found her seat so fast the chair scooted back a few inches.

    ¡°It did not escape the attention of the elders that this particular elevation carried with it a bit of animosity between members of the Tribunal. While it is not our place to interfere with matters that are so¡­beyond our understanding, we have agreed a stipulation should be placed on Miss Stewart¡¯s advancement. One we believe will foster peace among the Tribunal.¡±

    Sig went from his typical slouched position to sitting bolt upright in his throne. ¡°A stipulation, you say? This is quite out of the ordinary, Rebecca.¡±

    ¡°Yes, Tribunal Leader Sig. However, the elders have observed that a great number of things have been out of the ordinary lately. Wouldn¡¯t you agree?¡±

    Sig frowned. ¡°I am sure I would find logic in your thought process.¡± It wasn¡¯t quite an agreement, nor was it a total shutdown.

    I met Brigit¡¯s gaze and wondered if I looked half as worried as she did.

    ¡°I think the Tribunal will like our suggestion, if you are willing to hear it.¡±

    ¡°Speak,¡± Juan Carlos barked.

    ¡°There is the matter of a rogue being kept within council walls. Alexandre Peyton has been imprisoned for one year under the auspices a proper punishment will be decided for him in due time.¡± As Rebecca spoke, a knot of unease formed between my shoulders and I felt sick to my stomach. ¡°We believe given the relationship between the prisoner and one member of the Tribunal¡­¡± her gaze drifted to me and remained, ¡°¡­it would be best if we, the elders, propose a sentence.¡±

    ¡°I don¡¯t¡ª¡±

    Sig raised a hand and cut me off before I could voice my dissatisfaction with this decision.

    Rebecca continued. ¡°Since Tribunal Leader Secret brought us this new warden candidate, we believe the final decision over Peyton¡¯s term of solitude should fall to her.¡±

    ¡°Okay, sure,¡± I said. ¡°Forever and ever and ever. Longer if possible.¡±

    ¡°Yes, very good,¡± Rebecca replied with a smile that was too sinister for my tastes. ¡°Only we are proposing a lifeline lock be placed on his prison.¡±

    ¡°A¡­what?¡±

    Sig was frowning, but not at me. ¡°A lifeline lock hasn¡¯t been used in decades, Rebecca.¡±

    ¡°What is a lifeline lock?¡± I whispered, which was more than a little pointless given the hearing capabilities of those in the room.

    ¡°It¡¯s an old custom we had for dealing with those locked away in solitude. In centuries past sometimes prisoners would be locked away for so long their crimes were forgotten and often the prisons themselves were buried or slipped out of memory.¡± Sig shrugged like this wasn¡¯t as appalling as it sounded. ¡°The lifeline lock was established so someone would always exist who remembered why a rogue was being kept, and if that person were to die¡­the prisoner would go free. But as long as the vampire who is locked to the prisoner lives, the rogue remains in solitude.¡±

    ¡°It is a practical solution,¡± Juan Carlos added. ¡°But I don¡¯t believe Secret has enough experience with the concept to be the one who decides.¡±

    ¡°I just need to pick someone, and as long as they¡¯re alive, Peyton stays in lockdown?¡±

    Rebecca nodded.

    ¡°I think I¡¯m smart enough to figure out that one, Juan Carlos.¡±

    My two other Tribunal leaders turned to watch me, and I stared at Rebecca. She was up to something¡ªthis plan was too out of left field to not benefit her in some way¡ªI just couldn¡¯t see how. She smiled.

    ¡°I volunteer my own life,¡± I said after a pause. I didn¡¯t know how long I¡¯d live, but with the vampire blood and the werewolf blood, it had to be long enough to figure out a different way to kill Peyton before I bit the big one. I looked at the lines on my palms for a moment before turning my hands down and gripping the armrests on my throne.

    ¡°You can¡¯t.¡± Sig shook his head. He wasn¡¯t saying it like he was shocked or upset. The words were a statement. I couldn¡¯t offer myself. ¡°As a Tribunal leader, you cannot enter into any bargain where your life is on the line.¡±

    ¡°Oh.¡±

    But what then? I couldn¡¯t just pick someone else¡¯s life. Who would I choose? Holden? No¡­ Though I was sure he¡¯d volunteer if I asked, it didn¡¯t seem right. Perhaps someone here would be a good choice, since they were all so damned old already. But¡­

    ¡°Maybe Brigit would like to volunteer,¡± Rebecca suggested. ¡°As a first show of sacrifice for the council. Surely that isn¡¯t too much to ask given what we are offering her.¡±

    I was opening my mouth to say no, but Brigit spoke first. ¡°Sure.¡± She was nodding as enthusiastically as I was shaking my head.

    ¡°You don¡¯t have to do this,¡± I told her.

    ¡°It¡¯s no big deal.¡± She shrugged and smiled warmly. ¡°Besides, I¡¯m a warden now. I have the protection of the council. With that and your training¡­I think I¡¯ll be around for a while. Maybe longer than you.¡± She gave me a pointed look, and the gunshot scar on my shoulder throbbed in response.

    She had a point, one she was trying to make without speaking. Everyone here knew I wasn¡¯t all the way vampire, but none of us knew what that meant for my longevity. Brigit was a full vampire and she was part of the council now. All those things combined meant her life expectancy really was longer than mine.

    ¡°Well, I think that¡¯s a brilliant idea,¡± Juan Carlos said, his new smile equal to Rebecca¡¯s in creepy satisfaction.

    I didn¡¯t like it, and I didn¡¯t want to agree. Rebecca had only one reason to suggest I pick Brigit, and it had nothing to do with logic. The council had made a choice that ended in one of her children being dead, and I¡¯d been the one to kill him. Now she¡¯d found a way to put my supposed child¡¯s life in the hands of the council.

    Eye for an eye.

    Child for a child.

    She couldn¡¯t kill Brigit, but she could put her life in danger, and what better way than to attach it to Peyton¡¯s. There was a certain poetry in Brigit tying her life to that of the vampire who had actually created her, but I was having trouble appreciating it. Her vampire death would mean his freedom, just as her human death had led to his imprisonment.

    ¡°Brigit, are you sure?¡±

    ¡°Yup.¡±

    ¡°You don¡¯t have to do this. I could ask Holden.¡± When I said this, I made sure to look at Rebecca instead of Brigit. I wouldn¡¯t put Holden at risk to prove a point to Rebecca, but I wanted to remind her she still had other children, and now the choice and the power were all in my hands. The elder¡¯s face grew ashen, and she took her seat. Favorite or not, she didn¡¯t want to see Holden take Brigit¡¯s place. She wouldn¡¯t push this further than she already had.

    ¡°I want to. To thank you for everything you¡¯ve done for me.¡±

    The whole room was tense and quiet. Sig and Juan Carlos continued to watch me¡ªI didn¡¯t need to look at them to know it. The weight of their scrutiny was heavy.

    ¡°Okay.¡± My teeth ground together after I said it. ¡°I will choose the warden, Brigit Stewart, as the lifeline lock on Alexandre Peyton.¡±

    Chapter Thirty-Nine

    Sig, Brigit and I stood side by side in front of the small door that kept Peyton at a safe distance from the rest of the world. The hall was so cramped we barely had enough room for three of us to stand.

    ¡°So what now?¡± Brigit asked, rocking on her heels. She was making a valiant effort to appear nonchalant, but I knew her well enough by now to recognize the unease creeping into her voice.

    ¡°Now we must open the door.¡±

    My eyes widened. ¡°Why?¡± I was in no mood to chat with Peyton again, not after our last t¨ºte-¨¤-t¨ºte. If I went the remainder of my years, however many they might be, without seeing Peyton¡¯s gaunt, creepy face ever again, I¡¯d be all too happy.

    ¡°We need his blood,¡± Sig said matter-of-factly, ignoring my dismay.

    There was no way we were getting out of this without opening the door. Fine. But that didn¡¯t mean I had to set foot anywhere near¡ª

    ¡°Secret,¡± Sig continued, ¡°would you be so kind?¡±

    ¡°I¡­¡± I struggled to come up with a viable excuse, but he and I both knew I was perfectly aware of how to open the stupid door, and my blood would do the trick as easily as his would. ¡°Fuck it. Fine.¡±

    This time Sig didn¡¯t need to draw blood for me. My fangs slid out with little coaxing, and I bit my own thumb. Pressing the blood against the door, I followed the steps as Sig had shown me before, and the swimming blue light slipped away as if afraid of my blood. The lock vanished and the door swung open as it had for Sig the first time we¡¯d come down here.

    Not that knowing what was coming made it any less fascinating to watch. Somehow it felt more magical now that it was my blood unlocking the seal.

    I turned to Sig and held my hand out to the open door. ¡°I¡¯ve seen this show before.¡±

    He didn¡¯t budge. Instead, he held out a thin, sharp blade to me, handle first. ¡°She is your responsibility. And so is he. Traditionally, it would be expected that you would draw his blood in a more¡­standard way. But I understand you might be too squeamish for that.¡±

 Page 36

    Did Sig just imply I was too chickenshit to bite Peyton?

    The knife was now more of a mockery than a tool I¡¯d find good use for. How long was I going to have to fight for the council to take me seriously?

    Gently, I pushed his hand away from me.

    ¡°I think I can handle one little vampire.¡± But the hard swallow that nearly caught in my throat made my unease apparent.

    Before Sig could offer me the knife again, I ducked under the low doorframe, leaving the Tribunal leader and my ward out in the hall. Once again, I was alone with Peyton. My head was spinning with the scary reality of what I was expected to do.

    ¡°Couldn¡¯t¡­get¡­enough.¡± His rasping voice brought me back to my senses.

    I moved as close to the husk of Peyton as I dared. ¡°I¡¯m not planning to make a habit of it.¡±

    ¡°You look¡­delicious.¡± His withered lips, still oozing a clear liquid, made a crackling noise as he tried to grin at me. The result was a menacing grimace, his lips sticking to his gums, showing me his one good fang and the too-long roots of his other teeth.

    ¡°Red is a good color on me,¡± I replied.

    ¡°I¡­once¡­painted you¡­ So. Very. Red.¡± His last three words were spoken with perfectly clarity, no drawn-out wheeze in between like the previous ones. He said them with eerie precision, each vowel short, the consonants clipped and thick with his accent. I looked over my shoulder, hoping to see an easy escape. Instead, Sig was leaning against the wall near the door, watching me with a guarded expression.

    I couldn¡¯t be a scared teenager anymore, which was how Peyton always made me feel. Now I had to be a Tribunal leader, ruthless and cunning. My blood had to run cold if I was going to survive in the vampire world.

    If they wanted me to be like them, I was going to show them just how much of a vampire I could be.

    ¡°Do you remember how my blood tasted?¡± I asked, crawling closer. My glare bored into his rapt gaze, those eyes black with hunger and edged with madness. In spite of his crazed appearance, the methodical killer I once knew was still in there. ¡°When you swallow the nothing you are given, do you remember the last drink you had?¡± My head angled to one side, and I narrowed my eyes. ¡°Is it sweet, Peyton?¡± Another inch closer. ¡°Or do I taste fucking bitter on your tongue?¡±

    He tried and failed to lick his lips.

    My fangs were still extended, and it was my turn to give him my best, most demented smile. It wasn¡¯t something I had to fake. Being near him brought something ugly out in me. ¡°I wonder how you taste.¡±

    The blackness receded from his irises for the barest fraction of a second, and I saw what I was desperately hoping for. Fear. Since I was sixteen he had been the monster I¡¯d been most scared of. The bastard who had taught me the limits of my own mortality.

    And now he was scared of me.

    I edged closer still, and he tried to recoil.

    ¡°Come on, Peyton, you like a little pain, don¡¯t you?¡± Rocking back on my heels, I raised my face to his chained arm and breathed out warmly on his bound hand. ¡°But you like to dish it out¡­ Let¡¯s see how you like to take it.¡± Our gazes locked, the blackness back in his eyes, but the fear and uncertainty remained.

    When I bit into his wrist, he jerked away. He fought against me, and I watched him as I tore open the skin without a care in the world for how badly it would hurt. There was no meaty flesh or thick muscle to resist me, just sinew over bone.

    Almost no blood came out of the wound. It was a wonder he had any left at all. My gaze never left his as I wiped a smear of blood from the open bite mark onto my palm and licked my lips to clean the remainder off. He tasted bitter, a little too much like copper without any of the sweetness one should find in fresh blood.

    I pursed my lips. I was disgusted with myself, but I couldn¡¯t let him see it.

    ¡°I¡¯ve had you¡­¡± He made as if to laugh, but just wheezed. ¡°And you¡­have had¡­me.¡±

    ¡°It doesn¡¯t matter.¡± I rose to a crouch and loomed over him. If blood was shared between vampires, it forged a powerful connection, making it easier for them to find one another. It hadn¡¯t been my intention to forge such a bond between Peyton and myself, but I couldn¡¯t find it in me to care. ¡°You¡¯ll never get a chance to abuse it.¡±

    ¡°Never¡­say never.¡±

    I didn¡¯t respond. I had already let him use my time too much, and every second I stayed near him was an opportunity for him to get the upper hand again.

    Back outside I held my bloody palm out for Sig¡¯s approval. He nodded and shut the door.

    ¡°Your blood, as the choice was yours.¡± Without waiting for me to do it myself, Sig took my clean hand and drew a fang across my palm. His breath was shockingly hot, and I gasped before withdrawing my hand.

    I wiped my fresh blood on the wooden door, which served the dual purpose of re-locking it and taking the first step of our ceremony.

    Sig continued, pausing to lick a trace of my blood from his lips. ¡°His blood, as he is the prisoner.¡±

    I smeared the blood I¡¯d taken from Peyton over my own on the door. The wood responded with a faint hiss.

    ¡°And her blood¡­¡± he angled his chin to Brigit, ¡°¡­as her life is now the key to his freedom.¡±

    Brigit, who had watched the steps in wide-eyed wonderment, now followed suit and bit her own thumb open, adding her blood to the mess on the door. The hissing grew louder, and a silvery-gray smoke curled out from under the layers of blood until all the red had vanished and the door was as smooth as ever.

    ¡°That¡¯s it?¡± I asked.

    ¡°Did you say the magic words?¡± Sig asked.

    ¡°The¡­magic words?¡± I turned from the door and saw him smirking. ¡°Oh you¡¯re fucking hilarious.¡± I gave the door one last look, and for the hell of it added, ¡°Abracadabra.¡± As far as magic words went, it was as good as it got.

    Chapter Forty

    How many supernatural creatures does it take to get a girl to her bachelorette party?

    Two vampires, one sister of a werewolf and one New York City Police Department detective. Okay, so the last one might not be supernatural, but she was carrying a gun.

    When Holden guided Brigit and me through the doors of New York¡¯s newest new hot club, a place called Friction, I was glad I¡¯d let the sentry pick my ensemble for the night. I was also glad to have accepted Sig¡¯s offer to send some wardens to the club in advance. Just in case.

    Once upon a time I would have shot the idea down before it was done being offered. Things changed. I couldn¡¯t be so frivolous about my personal safety anymore. Not with the pack and the Tribunal depending on me.

    Who would have thought I¡¯d be instrumental to so many people¡¯s well-being all at once?

    I¡¯d lived for myself and by myself for so long it was a big adjustment to make, not only to have people depend on me, but to let myself depend on others.

    The club was packed full of girls wearing barely there dresses and men trying to get those girls out of said dresses. None of the men so much as cast me a second glance thanks to Brigit¡¯s efforts in cleaning out the bridesmaid paraphernalia at the local gag shop. I was wearing a tiara that was festooned with fake diamonds, and had on a silver-and-pink sash that read BRIDE.

    Brigit was wearing a blinking pink button proclaiming her a Bridesmaid!, but hers seemed more subtle somehow. I¡¯d allowed the sash, tiara and a pink feather boa, but I drew the line at a penis cup. My dignity could handle a lot of low blows. Drinking cosmos out of a phallus-shaped sippy cup wasn¡¯t one of them.

    We met Mercedes and Kellen at a booth in the very back corner of the club, where I was finally able to relax. The black leather couches were crammed up against a solid brick wall, with a low ceiling overhead, which was the floor of the stairs to the second level, and our position provided us a great view of the whole dance floor as well as part of the upstairs bar area.

    I let out a breath. This was the only place an assassin might feel comfortable in a jam-packed club. That is, if I ignored the stripper pole in the middle of the couch circle.

    Kellen and Mercedes were both wearing blinking Bridesmaid! buttons, and each looked a little too happy about seeing me wrapped in pink feathers. It wasn¡¯t until I flopped next to Kellen on the sofa that I realized there was someone else in our party.

    Eugenia was sitting alone, wearing a dress that was a size too large and a few inches too short. She must have borrowed it from Kellen because the design screamed look at me, while the girl in it appeared to be hoping for quite the opposite.

    ¡°You never told me you had a sister,¡± Kellen shouted over the throbbing bass of the music.

    ¡°No one told me either until last week.¡± I gave Eugenia a quizzical look, and she smiled meekly.

    ¡°Callum sent me. He said it was important for family to be present at your wedding. I¡¯m staying with Kellen.¡±

    ¡°Just you?¡±

    ¡°No, Ben too.¡±

    ¡°Who¡¯s Ben?¡± Kellen asked, bubbling with excitement.

    ¡°My brother,¡± Eugenia and I said in unison. Eugenia continued, explaining, ¡°He¡¯s with Lucas at the penthouse.¡±

    ¡°You have a brother too?¡± Kellen gaped at me. Mercedes looked intrigued as well but must have thought better of asking questions in the middle of a packed nightclub.

    ¡°We¡¯re twins.¡± Eugenia sipped the drink in front of her.

    ¡°How did you get in?¡± I pointed at the club. ¡°And what¡¯s in that?¡±

    ¡°I have a little pull,¡± Mercedes offered.

    ¡°And it¡¯s 7UP,¡± Eugenia finished.

    ¡°For someone who¡¯s only been a big sister for a week, you¡¯ve already got the overprotective thing down pat.¡± Kellen laughed.

    ¡°I¡¯m not even going to ask what¡¯s in yours.¡±

    ¡°I¡¯m over twenty-one,¡± she reminded me. ¡°And gin.¡±

    ¡°God help us all.¡±

    ¡°Who said you could bring a boy?¡± Kellen pointed to Holden, who was still lurking around outside the booth.

 Page 37

    ¡°Holden¡¯s making sure things stay fun.¡±

    ¡°Then make him dance for us.¡± Kellen got to her feet before I could stop her and grabbed Holden by his sleeve. ¡°Are you going to dance for us, Holden?¡±

    The vampire looked bewildered and amused. ¡°I don¡¯t get paid enough to dance.¡±

    Kellen rifled through her glittery gold handbag and pulled out a roll of hundred dollar bills so thick I had to catch my breath. She peeled off at least ten and jammed them into his blazer¡¯s front pocket, giving him an all-Benjamin pocket square. Once she¡¯d put the roll of money back in her purse, she pointed to the stripper pole in our midst.

    ¡°Dance.¡±

    I bit my lip to keep from laughing at him, but my trapped giggles bubbled over, causing me to snort.

    ¡°Secret, it¡¯s your party. Make him do it.¡± Kellen was using her semi-drunken state and playing up her cuteness. I was betting this particular move went a long way with human men.

    ¡°Sorry, Kel. I need Holden¡¯s attention out there.¡± I gave an apologetic shrug. ¡°As much as I¡¯d like to see him shake his ass, he has work to do.¡±

    At I¡¯d like to see him shake his ass, Holden raised two dark brows at me, his beautiful face showing faint surprise and a lot of dirty promises. I flushed.

    I got up and moved to the seat across from Eugenia, and Kellen bounded off to get me my first of many drinks. During a brief lull between songs, I smiled at my sister and reached out to touch her hand. ¡°I¡¯m glad you¡¯re here. I wish it wasn¡¯t¡­¡± I rolled my eyes and jerked my chin in the direction of the dance floor. ¡°You know. I wish we could talk.¡±

    ¡°There will be time.¡±

    Kellen returned empty-handed but with a six-foot-five muscle-bound guy trailing behind her, his massive hands loaded with bottles.

    ¡°Bottle service!¡± Kellen cooed, cheers-ing herself. ¡°This is Antoine.¡±

    ¡°Andy,¡± the guy corrected.

    Kellen shrugged. ¡°Andy is going to dance for us.¡±

    The poor guy, whose skin was the color of a ripe pumpkin and who smelled faintly musky, a mixture of sweat and cologne, paled slightly at her words.

    ¡°I don¡¯t¡ª¡±

    Holden extracted the wad of hundreds from his pocket and didn¡¯t bat a lash as he slipped them into Andy¡¯s palm. ¡°Give them what they want. Especially the fox in the boa.¡± He winked at me for good measure before melting into the crowd.

    As it turned out, in spite of his protestations, Andy was a bit of a pro when it came to working the stripper pole. And¡ªmuch to my mortification¡ªwas apparently no stranger to giving lap dances. No amount of Patr¨®n could wipe away the memory of a shirtless beefcake wearing my former boa while grinding his very firm butt into my lap.

    He was preparing himself for round two when I saw my moment to escape.

    ¡°Sorry, ladies, nature calls.¡±

    Before anyone could offer to be my plus one to the bathroom, I darted from the booth and skirted the dancing twenty-somethings who were too busy grinding against each other to pay any attention to me. Beyonc¨¦ was singing ¡°Countdown¡±, and in spite of the catchy beat and the booze pulsing through me, I found myself uninterested in making merry.

    I was almost halfway across the room when a finger hooked through the woven straps of my dress and yanked me backwards into a small alcove that led to a door marked Staff.

    Only the familiar scent and the coolness of the digit pressed to my spine kept me from punching him, but knowing who it was didn¡¯t stop me from spinning out of his grip and slamming him against the wall, my hand wrapped around his throat.

    ¡°You should know better than to sneak up on women who are being hunted.¡±

    Holden smiled and pried my hand off his neck one finger at a time. ¡°Then shouldn¡¯t you know better than to sneak off unprotected into a crowd?¡±

    ¡°Clearly someone had their eyes on me.¡±

    His fingers landed on my shoulders, as if to push me away from him, but instead he ran them with painstaking slowness down my arms, making me shiver in a not-unpleasant way.

    ¡°I¡¯m the only one watching you now.¡±

    A breath caught in my throat, making a squeaking sound when I opened my mouth to speak. ¡°I-I should get back.¡±

    ¡°The line is long.¡±

    ¡°What?¡±

    ¡°At the bathroom. We have time.¡±

    His hands came to rest on my waist. He pushed himself off the wall and continued the forwards motion until he had me backed up against the opposite wall and he was pressed against me. My heart was hammering and my eyes couldn¡¯t quite focus on his. I kept getting distracted by the fullness of his mouth.

    ¡°I should¡­¡±

    Holden lowered his mouth to my ear and forced out a breath, making me shudder. His lower lip rubbed against my earlobe when he said, ¡°You made me a promise, Secret.¡±

    I didn¡¯t want to respond physically, but when he whispered the words, a primal heat stabbed at me and I arched against him. ¡°I did.¡±

    His hands moved from my waist and to the small of my back, and our bodies were so close I could feel the heat from my body seeping into his. His soft lips grazed my neck, and I let out a whimper.

    ¡°You¡¯re running out of time to make good on it.¡± His tongue darted out, flicking against the pulse held captive under his mouth.

    ¡°I don¡¯t think¡­¡±

    ¡°Don¡¯t think,¡± he instructed. ¡°Stop thinking. You want this.¡± He lowered his lips again, this time to my mouth, and when he kissed me, I wanted to stop time. The bass thump pounded through us, making my skin hum, and when his tongue curled against mine, I had to kiss him back. My whole being insisted on it. His fingers dug into my spine, winding their way through the folds of satin to touch bare skin.

    When one of his hands found the tie at the base of my neck, the one that would undo the whole dress, I broke from the kiss and held his head back, my fingers buried in his dark hair. I knew if I let him kiss me again, I wouldn¡¯t be able to force myself to stop. He tasted too good.

    I felt dizzy, and it wasn¡¯t from the booze. The tequila haze had already begun to fade, leaving an aftertaste in my mouth that had me craving limes.

    The suddenness of the memory brought me back to my senses.

    ¡°I can¡¯t do this.¡±

    ¡°You want to.¡± He seemed mystified. My arousal wasn¡¯t the problem here, and he could probably smell as much. I certainly felt flushed, and there were other telltale signs. ¡°I know you want to.¡± He tried to kiss me, but my grip was firm.

    ¡°It¡¯s not about what I want.¡± I sighed.

    ¡°Sure it is. Just one night. That¡¯s all I asked for.¡±

    I pushed him away but left my hands on his chest. ¡°I wish I could. You have no idea how badly I wish this was about what I want. I do want you, and maybe I always have. But I have the pack now. I have the Tribunal.¡± I balled my fingers into the soft cotton of his shirt and fought against the urge to pull him back to me. ¡°I need to do what¡¯s right. And this isn¡¯t right.¡±

    ¡°Is this about your dog running away?¡±

    I let go of his shirt. ¡°Partly.¡±

    ¡°He¡¯s gone. I¡¯m here.¡±

    ¡°I¡¯m sorry, Holden.¡±

    He licked his lips, and I followed the motion of his tongue with hungry eyes. He watched me watch him and shrugged once. ¡°There¡¯s still time.¡± Then he vanished again, leaving me too hot and suddenly cold all at the same time.

    Like I needed more complications in my love life right now.

    Chapter Forty-One

    Satin sheets were always a dead giveaway I was dreaming.

    I mean who in the real world actually had satin sheets? I¡¯d once had a satin pillowcase in my early teens because Seventeen magazine said it was a great way for curly-haired girls to fight off frizz. Grandmere had made one for me, and damned if my head didn¡¯t slip off it almost every night.

    Satin sheets were the bedroom version of a Slip ¡¯n Slide.

    Except in my dreams.

    And those usually also featured a naked man, so I wasn¡¯t going to complain too much.

    ¡°The sheets are a bit clich¨¦d, don¡¯t you think?¡±

    Holden wrapped his arms around me from behind and tugged me close. He nestled his cheek in my hair and whispered in my ear, ¡°I¡¯m sorry, whose dream is this again?¡±

    In reality this wasn¡¯t a normal dream, and that was the only reason I was so hyperaware of it being part of my imagination. In other dreams it was hard to sort out what was what because everything felt so real. This, too, felt so real it was hard not to convince myself I was awake. But I wasn¡¯t. Because of the bond I¡¯d formed with Holden when I was his ward, the sneaky bugger could worm his way into my dreams if he so desired.

    ¡°Don¡¯t forget, you have all the power now,¡± he reminded me, as if reading my mind. Maybe he could? He was capable of sneaking into my subconscious. Who¡¯s to say what he could glean from me while he was there.

    ¡°You¡¯re trying to tell me I brought you here?¡±

    He licked the shell of my ear, and my whole body tightened. ¡°I¡¯m just saying I couldn¡¯t be here if you didn¡¯t want me here.¡±

    I snorted, but I didn¡¯t push him away. He trailed kisses down from my ear to the crook of my shoulder, and I closed my eyes so I could focus on the sensation of it, his lips as soft and firm as I knew them to be in real life. When I felt the graze of fangs over my skin, I opened my eyes again.

    ¡°What are you¡ª?¡±

    ¡°Shhh,¡± he soothed, traversing a hand over my belly and lower¡­lower.

    A shuddering sigh escaped me. I wished it hadn¡¯t, because he took it as an invitation. He slipped one finger inside of me in the same instant he bit down, teeth breaking skin and¡­

    Nice day for a white wedding.

    Billy Idol sure seemed to think so as his voice growled and snarled from the cell phone on my nightstand.

    ¡°Ugh, can you¡­?¡± I stopped short of asking Desmond to turn it off when I remembered he wasn¡¯t here anymore. I was alone.

 Page 38

    The weight of that knowledge sat heavy on my chest like a bloated hippopotamus.

    Desmond was gone.

    I groped around on the nightstand until my hand found the smooth, cool, credit-card-sized phone, and I hit the speak button, bringing it to my ear with a cheerful, ¡°What?¡±

    ¡°Hello to you too,¡± Mercedes replied, not skipping a beat. If anyone was used to being on the receiving end of my upbeat just-woke-up self, it was Cedes. ¡°I suspected you might still be in bed, seeing as¡­well¡­days aren¡¯t your thing.¡± There was a long pause. I didn¡¯t fill it, so she carried on. ¡°The current time is seven forty-five, and I am sitting outside your apartment with Owen, because you are expected at Columbia at eight o¡¯clock sharp.¡±

    I held the phone back and looked at the date. April 28th.

    I don¡¯t know how I was the only fucking person in the world who needed to be reminded about my own wedding. But here I was, still in bed two hours before I was supposed to walk down the aisle. I was dreaming about another man and waking up sad because yet another wasn¡¯t beside me in bed.

    ¡°I¡¯ll be out in five minutes,¡± I promised her.

    ¡°Don¡¯t fancy yourself up too much, there are people for that.¡± This was said in a voice eerily similar to Kellen¡¯s, and I couldn¡¯t help but laugh. She wasn¡¯t wrong though, Kimberly was bound to have dozens of the best hair and makeup artists waiting to paint me, pluck me and groom me into the best version of myself.

    A version I didn¡¯t feel I deserved to be right then.

    I mumbled a ¡°See you soon¡± and hung up.

    Fifteen minutes later I was sitting alongside Kellen, Brigit and Mercedes in short-backed chairs while a team of beauty experts went to town on us. They cooed over Bri¡¯s perfectly straight blonde hair so much I was convinced they wanted to do a scalp transplant and put her hair on my head to save themselves the trouble of making order out of the messy ponytail I¡¯d worn to the hotel.

    Eugenia had come along with Kellen and was sitting on a small loveseat looking as uncomfortable as humanly possible. I guess when you take a girl who has lived in the swamps of Louisiana for half her life and throw her into a city like New York, there was bound to be a fair bit of culture shock.

    ¡°Eugenia?¡± I said.

    Her attention snapped to me. ¡°Yeah?¡±

    ¡°I don¡¯t want you to feel you have to, but, um¡­do you want to stand up with me?¡±

    Kimberly, who had been texting up a storm on her BlackBerry, was suddenly all ears. I had to give her points because she didn¡¯t shoot the idea in the foot straightaway and instead waited to hear what we were going to say. Her fingers primed to send another text at any second.

    ¡°Oh, I don¡¯t know.¡± Eugenia was blushing a fierce shade of red. ¡°It¡¯s so last minute, I don¡¯t have anything to wear. I¡¯m sure I¡¯d stick out like a sore thumb.¡±

    I had yet to be a demanding bride, and given how much I suspected Lucas was paying Kimberly, surely finding a single yellow Alfred Angelo bridesmaid¡¯s dress couldn¡¯t be too much to ask. Without a word my gaze drifted from my sister to the frozen wedding planner.

    ¡°Kimberly?¡±

    For one long second she just batted her false lashes at me until she registered I was now asking her something. Then she was a flurry of motion and efficiency. ¡°What size are you?¡± she asked Eugenia.

    ¡°I¡­¡± The poor girl looked down at her borrowed dress. ¡°This is a six?¡±

    Kimberly didn¡¯t say another word to her, she was too busy tapping away on her BlackBerry muttering, ¡°Sizes run high¡­ Best to get an eight too¡­ Wonder where Nancy got to¡­¡± She walked from the room with her head down, and for a moment I was afraid she might run straight into the wall, but the woman was obviously a pro at text-walking because she sidestepped the doorframe at the last second and marched her Manolo-clad feet out into the hall.

    ¡°She¡¯s scary,¡± Eugenia said.

    ¡°You think she¡¯s scary? You lived on an island in the swamp populated with feral werewolves and were raised by a witch,¡± I reminded her.

    That got everyone¡¯s attention, including the totally human beauty team, whose curling irons all stopped in unison.

    Eugenia¡¯s eyes bugged out.

    I winked. ¡°In a manner of speaking.¡± Then I laughed. ¡°Geez, everyone. Did we not budget for senses of humor?¡±

    My sister let out the breath she was holding, and Brigit joined the prep team in laughing, while Kellen and Mercedes shook their heads, incredulous that I would use two verboten W words in one sentence.

    ¡°Oh, honey, we were all raised by witches.¡± This from my stylist, Carter, whose dark hair was styled into a hip-looking pompadour with the sides shaved short. He had a habit of winking at me in the mirror whenever he spun the chair so I could see his progress. In the grand tradition of male hairstylists everywhere, I found it impossible to determine if he was gay or straight, but I knew I liked him. Otherwise his hands with their black-polished fingernails wouldn¡¯t be allowed anywhere near my hair.

    ¡°Are you thinking up or down?¡± he asked once he¡¯d worked through all the knots of my just-woken bedhead.

    ¡°Kimberly wanted up.¡± I rolled my eyes and shrugged.

    ¡°Yeah, well, Kimberly also wants to be Donald Trump¡¯s ninth wife and wants a pony dusted with platinum to bring her a Park Avenue white knight. I asked what you wanted.¡±

    The three other stylists once again stopped dead, this time gawking at Carter instead of me.

    Yeah, I really liked him.

    ¡°Can you make a ponytail look fancy?¡±

    ¡°Sweetie, I could make a rat tail look fancy. You leave this to me.¡±

    We were almost finished with our hair when the makeup team arrived. By that point Eugenia had been coaxed into a chair and her long dark hair had been transformed into something youthful but elegant. Mercedes¡¯s unruly curls had been softened and turned into sophisticated, old-Hollywood waves. Brigit¡¯s mane had been left long and straight. Her stylist had just backcombed the crown and pinned it back with a sparkly, canary-yellow barrette.

    Kellen was the only girl to opt for an updo. As she explained it, ¡°Any opportunity for an updo is a good one.¡± Braids trailed back from her temples, and a woven gold headband had been pinned in, resulting in a messy Greek-inspired style that made her cheekbones more prominent and her neck appeared longer somehow.

    Carter, true to his word, had made my standard ponytail pass as wedding appropriate. He¡¯d tamed my curls and added some sort of pomade that made them look like they were edged with gold. Several small braids were hidden in the mix, each one threaded with gold wire to both strengthen it and make it more beautiful. He¡¯d wrapped the base of the side ponytail with my own hair so there was no tacky elastic in sight.

    When hair and makeup were done, Kimberly re-emerged carrying several garment bags.

    She took one glance at me and frowned at Carter. ¡°I thought we agreed on an updo?¡±

    ¡°I am at the mercy and whims of the bride,¡± he replied without skipping a beat.

    ¡°Secret?¡± she asked.

    ¡°I forced him.¡±

    Kimberly sighed, clearly bested by our ponytail conspiracy. She hung up the two white garment bags and unzipped them to reveal two identical short yellow chiffon dresses. She pointed to Eugenia. ¡°Let¡¯s get you fitted, please.¡±

    On cue, a frazzled-looking woman with a gray bun entered the room, followed by three hotel porters laden with more dress bags. The smaller ones each bore a label to indicate which of my girls was wearing which, and the porters hung them behind the appropriate women.

    The really big one was mine, and the woman with the bun hung it from the closet door.

    ¡°Ladies, can we get you dressed, please? The photographer would like everyone dressed before we put Miss McQueen in her gown.¡± Kimberly was in full-on planner mode. Now was not the time for jokes.

    The girls quickly vacated their chairs and took turns in the suite¡¯s bathroom changing into their dresses. Eugenia fit the last-minute size six without any serious pinning or sewing from Nancy the seamstress. Sooner than I would have liked, four yellow-clad women were sitting side by side on the couch sorting out the sunflower and daisy bouquets and commending Kimberly for ordering a ¡°just in case¡± spare.

    It was when Kimberly unzipped the big Kleinfeld bag to reveal my dress that, for lack of a better term, shit got real.

    The photographer snapped pictures of the dress hanging in the window, with the curtains parted so the New York skyline glittered in the background.

    I swallowed hard. ¡°I¡¯m getting married.¡±

    ¡°Duh,¡± Brigit offered.

    I stared down at the giant diamond on my ring finger and wiggled it off to put it on the opposite hand like I was supposed to, so Lucas would have no trouble slipping the wedding band on.

    The wedding band.

    ¡°Holy shit,¡± I whispered. ¡°I¡¯m getting married.¡±

    The girls all looked at each other uneasily, not sure how to respond to this little aha moment I was having. I picked up my phone, checking to see if Lucas had sent me any texts to see how the prep was going.

    Nothing.

    He was pretty old-fashioned when it came to weddings though. Knowing him, he probably thought texting the bride right before the ceremony was as bad as seeing her. I put the phone back on the vanity then got out of my chair and approached my gown as if it might turn into a monster any second.

    My mind was spinning. My tummy churned with nerves while my heart pounded with excitement. I thought about Lucas and remembered the first time I¡¯d been alone with him in the penthouse at Rain Hotel. He¡¯d been so steady, so calm, and yet our nearness to one another threatened to burn us alive from the inside out.

    I¡¯d known when we met he was something special, even before I understood the soul-bond. And he had stood by me, steady as a rock. He¡¯d never faltered.

    He¡¯d never run away.

    My gaze cut to my phone once again, as if Desmond might choose that moment to reach out to me. The message light was blank.

 Page 39

    Lucas, for everything he had done that drove me crazy, and all the mistakes he had made, never pretended to be something else. He had always been the wolf king. He had always been my mate. I might not agree with his methods, but he was as reliable as the passing of time.

    And today I would marry him.

    Because it was the right thing for the pack. But it was so much more than that¡­

    Marrying Lucas meant an end to my own uncertainty. It meant I was his and only his. I ran my fingers over the beadwork on the front of my dress and smiled softly. The photographer snapped away. I looked past him and to my bridesmaids, and smiled at them.

    ¡°Let¡¯s go get me married.¡±

    Chapter Forty-Two

    Once I was encased in the satin-and-beaded glory that was my wedding dress¡ªwith my thigh holster secured thanks to a quick trip to the ladies¡¯ room with Mercedes¡ªKimberly let Grandmere into the suite so she could see the finished product. Judging by the tears that welled up in her eyes and the way she clutched her chest, I was guessing I looked all right.

    ¡°Oh¡­baby.¡±

    ¡°Does it look okay?¡±

    ¡°You look¡­magnifique. So beautiful.¡± She came over and took my hand, pressing a kiss to my knuckles.

    ¡°Grandmere, there¡¯s someone I want you to meet.¡± I introduced my friends to her, and then stopped at the tall, dark-haired girl who was shuffling nervously from foot to foot. ¡°This is Eugenia. McQueen.¡±

    Grandmere¡¯s gaze cut from me to the girl, then back. ¡°This is¡­¡±

    ¡°Mercy¡¯s other daughter.¡±

    ¡°Oh.¡±

    ¡°Hi,¡± Eugenia said meekly, giving a small wave.

    Being low-key had never been one of my grandmere¡¯s strongest suits. In spite of her small stature she crossed the distance between me and Eugenia and swept the tall girl into her arms, crushing her with an intense hug.

    She muttered an assortment of loving greetings in French, and Eugenia responded in kind. Upon hearing her granddaughter speak in French, and Creole French no less, I think Grandmere almost keeled over and died of happiness on the spot. The most I¡¯d been able to manage was Canadian French, and even that I botched half the time. Eugenia spoke Grandmere¡¯s native language as only a girl born and raised in Louisiana could. They chattered to each other briefly, and Eugenia wiped away a few happy tears once Grandmere released her.

    ¡°Happy, happy day,¡± Grandmere said, beaming with pride.

    My photographer was practically wetting himself with joy over all the warm and fuzzy family moments we were giving him to document.

    ¡°How is Lucas doing?¡± I asked Kimberly. If he was half as nervous and wobbly as I felt, I would get some satisfaction from knowing I wasn¡¯t the only one.

    ¡°The boys were scheduled to get ready at his penthouse to avoid any run-ins here.¡± The planner shrugged. ¡°Lucas insisted they didn¡¯t need any assistance, so we¡¯ll have to pray they figure out whose vest is whose and don¡¯t mix the boutonni¨¨res up too terribly.¡± She gave a martyred sigh, knowing she¡¯d be blamed if they showed up looking ridiculous. ¡°At least we¡¯ll have some time to fix them before he follows you in.¡±

    Grandmere, Eugenia and Kellen were no strangers to wedding protocol when it came to royal werewolf nuptials, but I¡¯d needed to explain to Mercedes at great length why I was going to precede Lucas up the aisle. Traditionally in most scenarios the king went first, especially when it came to meals and formal greetings.

    Weddings were the one exception. The king always arrived after the bride had gone up the aisle, and was always the last to enter. So instead of me walking towards him, I would already be at the front when he came in. Kind of sneaky, if you ask me, since it meant the big reveal moment was for the groom and not the bride. But I wasn¡¯t big on being the center of attention, so I wasn¡¯t going to complain too much.

    Kimberly had handled it beautifully, even if she hadn¡¯t understood it herself. It¡¯s amazing how much you can write off as an eccentricity when your client is a billionaire. I think most people suspected Lucas was just the vainer of the two of us, and no one really corrected those assumptions.

    One way or the other, by the end of the night I was going to be Mrs. Lucas Rain.

    It didn¡¯t much matter which of us came down the aisle last.

    The main lobby was empty, security keeping tourists out and helping escort guests to their rooms while keeping them away from the wedding areas. The Columbia Hotel was the first of Lucas¡¯s hotels I¡¯d ever been in, and that had been several years prior when I¡¯d executed a few vampires in one of the four penthouses and had almost gotten thrown off the balcony. But I¡¯d survived, and now I was here on my wedding day.

    The lobby floor was clear Plexiglas over river rocks, with fresh water passing over the stones. I stopped outside the elevator to marvel at the expensive details of the lobby, which looked like a British Columbia forest had been transplanted into the middle of Midtown Manhattan.

    What better place for a werewolf king to get married?

    Across the street, Bryant Park was decorated for the reception, with white tents and strings of glimmering yellow lights. Security guards were everywhere, ensuring no uninvited guests crashed the party. In spite of the cool April temperatures, the light made the whole park look warmer. And if the illusion wasn¡¯t enough, Kimberly had also brought in dozens of outdoor heaters to keep people from getting chilly.

    I took a shuddering breath outside the big ballroom doors, fidgeting with the bouquet of gerbera daisies I was holding.

    ¡°Ready?¡± Kimberly asked.

    ¡°Does anyone ever say yes?¡±

    ¡°Sometimes they lie.¡± She smiled and straightened my veil. It didn¡¯t cover my face, but she wanted it to frame my cheeks just so. Satisfied, she stepped back and gave a contented nod. ¡°You¡¯re the most beautiful bride I¡¯ve ever seen, Secret.¡±

    My heart stuttered a little at the unexpected compliment. ¡°Thank you.¡±

    She had traded her cell phone for a headset, and she clicked a button near her ear. ¡°We¡¯re good to go, cue bridesmaid entrance.¡± Pulling me to one side so my entrance wouldn¡¯t be ruined, she nodded to the man beside the ballroom doors, and he pushed them open when the first swell of Etta James¡¯s ¡°At Last¡± began to play.

    A hush fell over the ballroom, and chairs scraped as guests turned to watch the procession. Eugenia, Kellen, Brigit and lastly Mercedes entered and made their way to the front of the room where a makeshift altar had been constructed. Kimberly pushed Grandmere and me together and after an appropriate pause spoke into her headset again. ¡°Cue bride.¡±

    The traditional wedding march began to play, and the sound of a full ballroom coming to their feet followed the first beats of the music.

    Grandmere and I entered the room, and I walked with her up the aisle in a half-daze. On my side of the ballroom I saw familiar faces, and with each one I got a little stronger.

    Keaty had come. I¡¯d have been lying if I said I was sure he would. Beside him Nolan and¡ªto my genuine surprise¡ªShane were smiling as I walked farther into the room. Holden was there too, as far to the back as he could get, and he wasn¡¯t smiling. Ben, my brother, was at the front looking as uncomfortable as Eugenia had when she¡¯d first arrived, but I appreciated his being there. And beside Mercedes¡¯s boyfriend, Owen, was Detective Tyler.

    I didn¡¯t have many people in my life before I became a part of Lucas¡¯s pack. It meant a lot that everyone I cared about was here.

    I raised my chin high and smiled for all I was worth. When I got to the altar, Grandmere kissed me and took her seat while I stood next to Mercedes on the platform and glanced over the gathered crowd. Briefly I felt like I was on the set of a movie. Lucas¡¯s side of the ballroom was so full they¡¯d put the overflow into my almost empty half. His guests were New York royalty. Some of Hollywood¡¯s biggest stars, actors and singers, real-estate tycoons and the elite of Manhattan¡¯s upper crust were all here to see me marry the most eligible bachelor in the city.

    Reading about it in The Times hadn¡¯t made me understand what a big deal my wedding was. Now it sort of clicked, why Kimberly was so frantic about everything being just right. This was the goddamned social event of the season.

    I was struck by a sudden case of nerves.

    Lucas would handle himself perfectly. High-pressure situations were his bread and butter. But unless I was killing someone or keeping from being killed myself, I didn¡¯t handle pressure all too well. I swallowed hard, and my palms were a sweaty mess. I wanted to wipe them off, but the only thing available was my dress, and I thought Kimberly would shit bricks if I wiped my hands on my gown.

    The ballroom doors closed, and everyone found their seats, polite conversations popping up in muted tones while people waited for Lucas to arrive. On the groom¡¯s side of the platform there were no groomsmen, though I knew Dominick, Desmond and a few other high-ranking pack members were expected to stand up for him.

    Whether or not Desmond would show up was another question. Duty dictated he must, otherwise it would look like an affront to the king. But he couldn¡¯t even stand to be in the same room with me. Would he be able to stand up and watch Lucas and me get married? Would I be able to go through with it if he was there?

    More sweaty palms.

    I knew nerves were a normal part of weddings, but I felt ready to throw up.

    ¡°What time is it?¡± I whispered to Mercedes.

    ¡°I don¡¯t know. The Nazi photographer made me take my watch off.¡±

    I shifted my weight from one foot to the other, my five-inch heels pinching my feet uncomfortably, reminding me I should have broken the damned things in before today. I waited a few minutes, my eyes never leaving the ballroom doors. Patience was not one of my virtues. I caught the eye of a handsome A-list actor in the front row. The type known for being in high-octane action movies. I thought maybe he¡¯d once been a wrestler. His big arms certainly suggested it.

    ¡°Hey,¡± I whispered, seeing the shiny gold Rolex on his wrist. ¡°What time is it?¡±

    He checked. ¡°Ten fifteen.¡±

 Page 40

    ¡°Thanks.¡±

    I fidgeted some more.

    Kellen whispered, ¡°Weddings never start on time.¡±

    Brigit and Mercedes both nodded. So did the big guy in the front row, for that matter.

    ¡°I know.¡± But I didn¡¯t sound convinced even to myself.

    We waited. First five minutes, then ten. Soon the conversations among the crowd weren¡¯t politely quiet anymore. People were annoyed at the lateness, and I couldn¡¯t blame them. Other people were suggesting perhaps it was more than lateness.

    That maybe Lucas wasn¡¯t coming.

    But that was a ridiculous notion. In the eyes of the pack, Lucas and I were already married. There was no reason for him to skip out on our human wedding. Pack law carried more weight than human law, so skipping out on our wedding wouldn¡¯t keep us from being married¡ªit would make him look like a douche bag.

    And make me look like an idiot.

    No, he cared too much about his image to do something so cruel, I was sure of it. He tended to be reclusive when it came to public appearances, so for him to make such a big deal of the wedding was proof enough it mattered to him.

    And I knew I mattered to him. He loved me.

    And love is a serious thing.

    When you love someone, you wouldn¡¯t leave them. Not for anything.

    I felt a pang, thinking of the way Desmond had walked out. How he hadn¡¯t been able to look at me after Lucas and I were officially mated. Was his leaving a sign he¡¯d loved me too much or that he hadn¡¯t loved me enough?

    I blinked back tears.

    A woman in the front row had pulled out her cell phone and was complaining loudly to the party on the other end that she had never in her life been forced to wait over thirty minutes for a wedding to start, and how having a wedding at ten at night was already a ridiculous request, and blah, blah, blah.

    I glared at her, letting her know her conversation could be heard perfectly well.

    She hung up.

    I was about to ask the guy with the watch for the time again when the sweeping sound of the ballroom doors opening filled the room. My attention jerked from the guests up to the door, expecting my fianc¨¦ or someone in his wedding party to walk through at any second. I smiled, ready.

    But it wasn¡¯t Lucas who came through the doors.

    It was Desmond.

    Chapter Forty-Three

    The first thing I noticed, aside from the lack of Lucas, was Desmond wasn¡¯t dressed for a wedding. Instead of a tux, he was wearing a leather jacket over a plain white T-shirt and a pair of dark denim jeans. He looked great, but that wasn¡¯t the point.

    ¡°Desmond?¡±

    He came up the aisle with his head low, not meeting anyone¡¯s gaze, least of all mine. In the open doorway, Kimberly stood bewildered, watching him close the distance between us. He stopped in front of me, not on the platform but on the ground, so I had to look down at him for the first time in our relationship.

    ¡°What¡¯s going on?¡± I didn¡¯t ask why he was here. He was invited. He was the best man. I did wonder, though, why he wasn¡¯t dressed appropriately.

    ¡°Can we talk?¡± He held out a hand, ignoring the glares he was getting from the crowd.

    ¡°Is this really the best time?¡±

    ¡°Secret, will you come with me, please?¡±

    ¡°No.¡± I turned my attention back to the ballroom doors, waiting. If Lucas came in and I was off with Desmond? No. I couldn¡¯t do that. This day was too important, and I wouldn¡¯t be the one to fuck it up.

    ¡°I don¡¯t want to do this here.¡± His hand was still out, and the room was so quiet I could have heard a pin drop.

    ¡°You had plenty of chances to talk to me. You left. This. Isn¡¯t. The. Time.¡± I stepped back, fighting against the wave of tears threatening to be unleashed at any minute.

    ¡°Secret¡­¡±

    My glance cut from the door back to him.

    ¡°Will you please come with me?¡± There was something in his eyes, a pain I¡¯d only seen once or twice before, and always because of something Lucas had done that I didn¡¯t understand. The mate bond. The pack marriage ceremony.

    The smile I¡¯d been forcing fell.

    ¡°What is it?¡±

    ¡°Come with me.¡±

    I shook my head. ¡°Just tell me.¡±

    He jumped the short step onto the platform, dipping his head so he could whisper without being heard. He couldn¡¯t hide the face he made before I drew close, or the way he sniffed when he got nearer. Apparently being close to me was still physically difficult for him. When I pulled back, Desmond glanced over his shoulder. Three hundred guests stared back with mute anticipation. He sighed and scrubbed his face with both hands, pushing his dark hair off his forehead and taking a big breath before he spoke again.

    ¡°Lucas isn¡¯t coming.¡±

    In spite of how quiet he¡¯d been, an audible gasp escaped from the collected masses, my bridesmaids included.

    ¡°What are you talking about?¡± I frowned. ¡°Of course he¡¯s coming.¡± Even as I said it I was looking at the open ballroom doors where Kimberly was standing peering at me and listening like everyone else. My shoulders drooped, and the bouquet suddenly felt so, so heavy in my hands.

    ¡°No.¡± I shook my head, hoping by denying it over and over I might make it turn out differently. ¡°No, you¡¯re wrong.¡±

    ¡°I¡¯m sorry.¡±

    Mercedes put a hand on my shoulder, but I couldn¡¯t look at her. If I saw even an ounce of the pity that showed on Desmond¡¯s face mirrored in hers, then the jig was up. Mercedes was my rock. If she believed what he was saying, I would have to accept it.

    I didn¡¯t want to accept it.

    My mind started to spin, kicking into high gear. ¡°Is he okay? What¡ª¡±

    ¡°He¡¯s fine.¡± Desmond let his hand drop. ¡°He¡¯s in Louisiana.¡±

    Murmurs started to spread like wildfire through the room. The sound of three hundred people talking all at once should have been deafening, but all I could hear was the throb of blood behind my ears and the slow, broken sound of my own heart.

    ¡°Louisiana?¡±

    He rested one hand on my arm as he spoke, a gesture that would have once made me feel safe and comforted. ¡°Your uncle called this afternoon. Some sort of last-minute emergency. A final negotiation about the borderlands.¡±

    ¡°But¡­we settled that.¡±

    ¡°Not according to Callum.¡±

    I pushed him back and met his gaze. ¡°You¡¯re telling me Lucas got a call on the day of our wedding, and instead of telling my uncle to wait twenty-four hours, he ran off without so much as a word?¡±

    ¡°I wouldn¡¯t have known except Dominick called me a half hour ago. Apparently he thought Lucas had sent Morgan to tell you.¡±

    I looked at the guests. The ones who weren¡¯t gossiping stared back with silent, apologetic half-smiles. My guess was everyone was waiting for the inevitable meltdown.

    Desmond, even, kept one hand on me like he was afraid I might fall apart if he let me go.

    ¡°He¡¯s not coming?¡± I asked again, not yet willing to accept it.

    Desmond shook his head. ¡°No.¡±

    I opened my mouth to speak, but quite unbidden, a sob came out. It was a loud, ugly sound, and when I tried to laugh it off, another followed quickly behind it. The bouquet fell from my fingers, and I felt myself go limp. Desmond caught me before I slipped to the floor and held me tightly. The familiar smell of him so close to my face should have comforted me, but instead it reminded me of all I had lost.

    I¡¯d chosen Lucas because he needed me. He needed to show the pack how strong and unified we were. But he¡¯d told me the pack would always come first, and tonight he had proven it. I¡¯d done everything I could to demonstrate my loyalty, including driving away the man I loved most in the world, and when push came to shove, Lucas had chosen a land dispute over me.

    Sob after sob racked my body, but no tears came, just the loud choking sounds of my lungs struggling for air.

    Today was supposed to be about a new beginning. About the life Lucas and I were going to have. Instead I was in the arms of a man who would never again be mine, and the man who claimed to love me was nowhere to be found.

    Desmond held me tight while the girls hovered around. He was whispering things that should have been soothing, but every word was a reminder of the two of us. His warmth and scent were traces of the life we¡¯d had before Lucas had screwed everything up with the mate bond and the very public proposal.

    He¡¯d made it clear he wouldn¡¯t play second fiddle to Desmond.

    He¡¯d won.

    And I¡¯d lost it all.

    As far as bad-to-worse situations go, it doesn¡¯t get much worse than having the love of your life tell you you¡¯re being stood up on your wedding day.

    Or so I thought.

    Chapter Forty-Four

    They say it¡¯s bad form to kick a man when he¡¯s down.

    I would take that saying and change it a little to add it¡¯s the worst form ever to shoot a woman who has been stood up on her wedding day.

    My saying wasn¡¯t as well-known, though. That must have been why Morgan didn¡¯t know it was poor form. Or she really didn¡¯t give a shit.

    As Kimberly was busy escorting my bewildered guests out of the ballroom, I looked up to see one of the members of Lucas¡¯s pack, a young man named Ewan, trying to guide Morgan from the room.

    I hadn¡¯t had time to process what Desmond had said, about Lucas expecting Morgan to be the one who broke the news to me, but seeing her argue with Ewan, the revelation came back to me.

    Morgan knew I was going to be stood up, and she hadn¡¯t told me. But why?

    ¡°No.¡± She jerked her arm away from Ewan and shoved him. ¡°He wasn¡¯t supposed to be here.¡± Her voice sounded high-pitched, edging on crazy. Guess she couldn¡¯t let me be the only drama queen in the room. ¡°He ruined the whole fucking plan.¡± This time she pointed at Desmond.

    I was too muddled and too broken to really pay attention to her, until I heard Mercedes say, ¡°What does she think she¡¯s doing?¡±

    Morgan had clambered up onto one of the chairs, out of Ewan¡¯s reach. My first thought was, Why is she climbing on the furniture? But that was quickly pushed aside to make room for the more pressing, Why is she pointing a gun at me?

 Page 41

    Mercedes said aloud what my brain was thinking. ¡°What the fuck?¡±

    Desmond and the girls all looked up, but it was the werewolf lieutenant who responded fastest. Morgan pulled the trigger, and Desmond threw himself on top of me. Mercedes was hollering at Owen for her purse, and the remaining guests were screaming. Some ran for the exit while others hit the floor.

    The weight of Desmond¡¯s body pinned me to the wooden floor, so my interpretation of what was happening was based entirely on what I could hear. I tried to reach the hem of my dress, instinct telling me I needed to get the gun I¡¯d strapped to my thigh.

    Leary had thought I was nuts for wanting to wear a gun under my wedding dress. Turned out it really was always better to be safe rather than sorry.

    ¡°Desmond, get up. I need to get my gun.¡± Funny how the sound of one bullet being fired could snap me back to my senses. This wasn¡¯t the time to be a sad, wilting girly girl. Right now I couldn¡¯t be the jilted bride.

    Right now I needed to be the killer I¡¯d been before love had gone and fucked me up.

    Desmond didn¡¯t move.

    His weight felt heavier than it should. Limper.

    ¡°Desmond?¡±

    The front of me felt warm. Warmer than I would expect from just the heat of his body. I snaked my arm around him, my fingers sliding over the pebbled roughness of the leather jacket until they met something wet, warm and sticky.

    I didn¡¯t need to see it to know what it was. I was very familiar with blood.

    ¡°Oh, God. Desmond.¡± I shook him. ¡°Desmond? Desmond.¡±

    Someone lifted him off me, and he went too easily, none of his limbs resisting. I tried to hold on to him, but soon he was lying on the floor beside me, unmoving, his eyes closed and his skin much, much too pale.

    I didn¡¯t notice myself being pulled away until Tyler had me halfway across the platform. I shook him off and stumbled, crawling across the stage to where Desmond was lying stock-still. ¡°I can¡¯t leave him.¡±

    Tyler grabbed the laces of my dress and yanked me backwards, hard and almost violent. ¡°He took that shot to save you. You¡¯re not doing anyone any good if you die. Especially not him.¡±

    I was stronger than Tyler and I debated knocking him out, but now that I was on my feet I could see what had unfolded while I was under Desmond¡¯s body.

    Morgan was no longer on the chair. She had Kimberly in a chokehold and was using her as a shield while she kept her back to the wall and her gun aimed at me. Mercedes had gotten her purse from Owen and was training her gun steady on Morgan, waiting for a clear shot.

    She wasn¡¯t the only one.

    Tyler had pushed me behind him, and he, Keaty and Shane all had their weapons drawn and leveled on the werewolf. Even Eugenia was preparing herself, muttering words in La Sorci¨¨re¡¯s strange French, her right hand glowing bright red.

    But Morgan wasn¡¯t stupid¡ªshe hadn¡¯t come alone, either. Three men and a woman were spread through the ballroom with their own weapons drawn and aimed at my friends.

    I¡¯d never been in a Mexican stand-off before.

    Holden was tucked into a corner near the entrance, but I knew better than to think he was hiding. He was unarmed, but his focus never left Morgan.

    I kept behind Tyler and hiked up my skirt, releasing my gun from the holster and arming it.

    ¡°Morgan, let her go.¡± Tyler probably intended for me to stay behind him, but I couldn¡¯t do it. Not only did it make him an unnecessary target, but I¡¯d promised to protect him in front of a dozen wardens. If he died when I could have done something, it would look as if I couldn¡¯t protect my people, and Mercedes, Nolan and Brigit would be in more danger than they were now.

    I stepped out from behind the detective, my weapon raised and ready. Morgan¡¯s was leveled on me. I¡¯d never seen her shoot, but I was confident I was a better marksman. At least I would tell myself that as long as I needed to in order to get me and my people out of here alive.

    My gaze cut to Desmond¡¯s form lying in an ever-growing pool of blood.

    The assassins looked uncertain. Their job, of course, was to kill me. But they were all otherwise occupied by my gun-toting wedding guests.

    ¡°It didn¡¯t have to happen like this,¡± Morgan said. ¡°I wanted to get you alone, but the fucking lieutenant had to screw it all up to play the hero.¡±

    I couldn¡¯t think about Desmond right then or I risked losing it entirely. ¡°You came for me. Let her go.¡±

    ¡°Put your gun down.¡±

    I laughed then, short but loud. ¡°You must think I¡¯m an idiot. No, this isn¡¯t going to be that kind of debate, Morgan. You let her go, then we talk. Just us girls.¡±

    Morgan glanced from me to all the extra weapons she hadn¡¯t been anticipating.

    ¡°If I let her go, they¡¯ll shoot. We walk out of here alone, and then I¡¯ll let her go.¡±

    ¡°Secret,¡± Keaty said, his tone calm and level. ¡°I can get a shot.¡±

    ¡°Odds?¡±

    ¡°Sixty-forty.¡±

    I coughed. Sixty percent odds he¡¯d take Morgan out without hitting Kimberly. And that depended on the wedding planner holding still and Morgan not moving her once the shot was fired.

    ¡°Not the best odds.¡±

    ¡°Better than Vegas.¡±

    Kimberly was staring at me. Her fake lashes had come unglued from all the crying she¡¯d been doing and were stuck to her cheeks like spiders in a river of smeared eyeliner.

    If I could do this without anyone dying, I would.

    ¡°No dice, Keaty. Sorry.¡±

    He didn¡¯t respond one way or the other, but he also didn¡¯t take the shot. I kept my gun up and moved across the platform until my shoes were sticky with Desmond¡¯s blood and I was standing beside him again. I dropped to a crouch, my gaze never drifting from Morgan, and fumbled until my fingers found his throat.

    For a full minute I felt nothing but cold flesh and a day¡¯s worth of stubble.

    This was it. The dream I¡¯d had in which Lucas demanded to know what I¡¯d done while Desmond lay bloody and dying. I was living it in Technicolor now, right down to my blood-splattered gown. I¡¯d seen it coming all along, but I¡¯d thought it was symbolic. I¡¯d never once dreamed it would become real. Not like this.

    My guts bottomed out, and tears I hadn¡¯t been able to cry over Lucas¡¯s betrayal came easily now. Nothing. Nothing. And then¡­

    Faint, and so, so slow I thought I imagined it. But there it was, and once I felt it twice, three, four times, I knew I wasn¡¯t fooling myself.

    Desmond was still alive.

    A relieved gasp worked its way out of my mouth, and I dragged the back of my free hand under my eyes to wipe off the tears.

    ¡°Okay,¡± I told her. ¡°We go.¡±

    ¡°Secret, no.¡± This from Tyler.

    ¡°As soon as I go, you get him to Rain Hotel. Melvin the desk clerk is a were. He¡¯ll know where to take him. Do not pass go. Do not collect two hundred dollars. You save him, do you understand me?¡± I couldn¡¯t look at him without taking my eyes off Morgan, but I needed to hear him agree. ¡°Do you understand?¡±

    ¡°Yes.¡±

    I jumped off the platform, landing in a crouch. My heels had barely hit the floor before another shot rang out, followed by a second. Morgan hadn¡¯t moved though, and she was as wide-eyed as I was sure to be. For a moment I thought Keaty had taken his shot, but after a long pause it was clear she hadn¡¯t been the target of the bullet.

    When a sole female assassin fell to the floor with a gurgling choke, I turned to see who had been standing across from her. Shane slumped into the chair nearest him, his shoulder bleeding profusely but appeared otherwise whole. Had I landed standing, the bullet from the assassin¡¯s gun would have hit me in the head instead of hitting Shane in the shoulder.

    He gave me a tense, pained smile.

    ¡°Always expect the second shot,¡± he said.

    Then all hell broke loose. All it took was those two shots, and suddenly the tense standstill was broken and everyone was firing at once. The assassins seemed to take their compatriot¡¯s death as open season on my people, and the second they began to fire, my friends returned suit.

    I hit the floor since I was right in the middle of the melee and the only person I had an easy shot at was Morgan, who still had Kimberly by the neck. I wormed my way across the floor on my belly¡ªeasier said than done in a corset-style wedding dress¡ªand moved through the rows of scattered chairs closer to Morgan, hoping I might be able to get close enough to take her out.

    A few of my rich and famous guests remained tucked among the chairs, their heads hidden beneath folded hands, praying to a wide variety of gods. Here¡¯s to hoping any or all of them were listening.

    It was a safe bet some of them would be talking about this for years to come. Entertainment Tonight loved to gossip about brush-with-death experiences, and they would end up pumping the drama for all it was worth.

    But that still meant getting them out alive.

    I was within a few rows of Morgan when a gunshot blew out the plaster near where her head had been. An instant later Kimberly hit the floor, but her sobbing and screaming kept me from being too concerned about her wellbeing.

    If you can scream, you¡¯re doing okay, relatively speaking.

    Three more shots hit the wall, and I raised my eyes over the wailing form of Kimberly in time to see Morgan scurry out the open ballroom door as she narrowly avoided another two shots that pierced the wood.

    As quickly as the gunfire had begun, it was silent again, and I took the lack of explosions as an invitation to stand up. Holden had darted out the door the moment the gunfire ceased but returned empty-handed a second later shaking his head.

    The assassins were no longer standing, and aside from a few new bullet wounds and an unflattering splash of blood across the front of Mercedes¡¯s yellow dress, everyone looked to be in one piece.

    I pointed to Tyler with my unarmed hand. ¡°You promise me.¡±

    He jerked his chin up to acknowledge his understanding and crossed the platform in two long-legged strides to stoop next to Desmond, a cell phone already out. Sirens sounded in the distance. Doubtless one of the guests who had made it out had called the police.

 Page 42

    It didn¡¯t matter who had called, it only mattered that Desmond would get the help he needed.

    I looked at Keaty. ¡°Can you take care of this?¡±

    He nodded, already holstering his weapon. Nolan and Owen had gone to check on their women, both of whom were in one piece. Ben was comforting Eugenia, who looked pale but otherwise fine. The charred row of burnt seats that had once been white told me she¡¯d done her part to protect me. Even Kellen was holding it together better than the last time she¡¯d been involved in a shootout.

    Practice makes perfect, I guess.

    Shane was gritting his teeth as he wound a makeshift bandage of torn dress shirt around his arm.

    ¡°Hey, hotshot,¡± I called to him, getting his attention. ¡°You in one piece?¡±

    ¡°Stings like a son of a bitch.¡±

    ¡°Can you still hold a gun?¡±

    He raised his shooting arm and held it straight out, gun in hand, to show me he was still rock steady. ¡°Takes more than silver bullets to take me down.¡±

    ¡°And you?¡± I looked at Holden who was standing beside me.

    He nodded.

    ¡°Then come the hell on.¡± I left the ballroom without a glance back to see if they were following me.

    Chapter Forty-Five

    One thing I¡¯d learned over the last year was to not go alone if you didn¡¯t have to.

    I¡¯d put myself at unnecessary risk dozens of times out of foolish pride because I thought I could handle myself and because I didn¡¯t want to put anyone in danger. But Shane was an assassin. He worked for the council, and by extension it was his job to do whatever I asked.

    I liked him, but I didn¡¯t feel guilty asking him to risk his life.

    I asked him to risk his life every time I gave him a warrant.

    Plus, I¡¯d trained him over the last couple of months to be an efficient and meticulous hunter. He was the man I wanted with me tonight if any further shit was going to hit the fan.

    As for Holden, well¡­when I wasn¡¯t sure who else I could trust, I knew I could count on him if it came to life-or-death situations.

    We took Shane¡¯s car back to my apartment¡ªI drove¡ªand the entire trip none of us said a damned thing to one another. I hadn¡¯t taken the time to go back to my hotel suite and get my phone. If Tyler needed to get me news on Desmond, there was no way for him to reach me. As I unlocked my apartment and let Shane and Holden in, I asked the vampire to tell someone how to contact us. I don¡¯t know who he called¡ªthe conversation was too short to bother listening in on¡ªbut he¡¯d done what I¡¯d requested.

    I slipped off my heels and directed my attention to Shane. ¡°Get into the bathroom and take your shirt off,¡± I commanded.

    Shane wasn¡¯t like Holden. Had I given the vampire the same instructions he would have obeyed, but he¡¯d have been cheeky about it. Shane did as he was told, scuttling into the bathroom and leaving his bloody jacket and shirt in the hallway.

    ¡°There¡¯s peroxide and bandages in the cubby next to the sink,¡± I told Holden. ¡°Bandage him up while I get the rest of our shit together.¡±

    He must have known I wasn¡¯t in a mood for joking around because he followed my directions without talking back.

    Fifteen minutes later I had a duffel bag loaded with weapons next to the front door and I¡¯d swapped my heels for black boots I could more easily run in.

    ¡°Do you want to, uh¡­change?¡± Shane suggested.

    I looked down at my formerly white wedding dress. The hem was soaked with blood and the whole front was stained red from where Desmond had bled out on top of me.

    ¡°No,¡± I replied flatly.

    It had taken almost twenty minutes to bind me into the dress, and to be honest, short of cutting it off there was no easy way out. I didn¡¯t want to waste any more time than was necessary. I stepped up onto the fa?ade of the fireplace and grabbed my katana off its wall mount.

    Safe. Not sorry.

    ¡°Secret, what¡¯s the plan here?¡± Holden had hoisted the duffel bag onto his shoulder. Next to him Shane was down to a white tank top, his shoulder expertly bound. They both waited for my word.

    I stared at the sheathed blade in my hand.

    ¡°We find the bitch.¡±

    ¡°And then?¡±

    ¡°And then I kill her.¡±

    I let Holden drive because he was a vampire, and vampires drove like maniacs.

    I couldn¡¯t be certain my guess on Morgan¡¯s destination was going to be right until we got there, but I had a gut feeling about where a werewolf would hide if her life was in peril, and I was willing to trust my gut on this.

    Besides, I wouldn¡¯t stop hunting her until I found her. If this idea didn¡¯t pan out, we would turn around and go back, and I would start from square one.

    I¡¯d keep starting from square one until she was dead.

    The highway from New York to Lucas¡¯s upstate mansion was practically abandoned this time of night, yet I found my anxiety was higher than usual for the whole trip, my gaze constantly checking the rearview mirror for signs we were being followed.

    Paranoid? Maybe. But once you¡¯ve survived a near-death shootout on a state highway, you tend to be a little wary.

    Shane didn¡¯t argue about Holden driving and didn¡¯t ask any questions about why we were taking a two-hour road trip in the middle of a manhunt. I liked him all the more for his willingness to go with it.

    I also appreciated that Shane didn¡¯t say a damned thing when I explained why Morgan wanted me dead. I was marrying a werewolf king. I was part werewolf. He¡¯d just nodded. I didn¡¯t love having to tell him the truth, but it would be asking too much not to explain what Morgan was, and telling him the truth meant there were no unanswered questions.

    When I¡¯d told Holden where to go, he¡¯d given me a look like he meant to make a stink about it, but he didn¡¯t.

    The gate of Lucas¡¯s estate was unlocked and ajar. A scan of the lawn told me my gut had been right. Morgan¡¯s hunter-green Porsche was parked at an odd angle in front of the main steps.

    ¡°She¡¯s here,¡± I said, barely believing it.

    ¡°Unreal.¡± Shane leaned forwards and squinted to see the car through the darkness. ¡°How the hell did you know she¡¯d come here?¡±

    ¡°She¡¯s a wolf,¡± I said with a shrug. ¡°This is home. Werewolves tend to go back to their pack¡¯s safe place when they panic. I¡¯m betting she didn¡¯t count on me knowing that since she always thought I was such a fucking outsider.¡±

    ¡°You think that¡¯s why she was gunning for you?¡±

    ¡°No.¡± I climbed over Shane, careful to avoid his injured shoulder, and awkwardly straddling him on my way out of the car. He followed close behind me, and Holden brought up the rear. ¡°I don¡¯t think she ever planned to make such a scene of things. She probably figured once I found out Lucas wasn¡¯t coming, I¡¯d run off somewhere to bury my head in the sand and she¡¯d be able to take me out.

    ¡°You can¡¯t blame her for the thought process,¡± Holden said. ¡°I mean, you do sort of have a history of making a run for it when things get tough.¡±

    Shane must have seen my shoulders tense because he quickly asked, ¡°But how does that benefit her at all?¡±

    I continued. ¡°With me out of the picture, she could be queen. What I don¡¯t get, though, is why she didn¡¯t just tell me in the first place¡­¡± Maybe she thought if I¡¯d known ahead of time Lucas wasn¡¯t coming, I¡¯d go to him. I was finding it hard to track the logic of someone who was clearly fucking nuts, though. ¡°I guess when she realized it wasn¡¯t going to go as planned, she decided to finish the job anyway.¡±

    ¡°Women,¡± Holden huffed. ¡°Push come to shove, it¡¯s always about who gets to wear the tiara.¡±

    I stopped walking and turned back to him. ¡°I didn¡¯t ask for this,¡± I snapped.

    ¡°Maybe not.¡± He unzipped the duffel bag and tossed me a spare clip for my SIG. ¡°But you didn¡¯t fight against it very hard, either, did you?¡±

    Shane cast a glance from Holden to me and back again. ¡°Are you really pushing her buttons right now, man? She¡¯s carrying a fucking sword.¡±

    ¡°She¡¯s a big girl,¡± Holden replied, handing Shane a loaded Glock, my old favorite gun. ¡°I¡¯m not telling her anything she hasn¡¯t thought herself.¡±

    ¡°When this is all over, you and I are going to have a very long chat,¡± I snarled.

    ¡°Yes. And won¡¯t that be fun?¡±

    ¡°Go check the house. Shane, there¡¯s a pool house out back.¡± I indicated the west side of the mansion.

    ¡°Where are you going?¡± Shane asked.

    ¡°I¡¯ve been meaning to take a tour of the hedge maze,¡± I said. ¡°Now seems like as good a time as any.¡±

    Chapter Forty-Six

    I¡¯d only seen The Shining once, but once was enough for me to remember the scene where the little boy tried to escape his psychotic father and ended up running around in the maze in the pitch darkness.

    I¡¯d also seen the fourth Harry Potter movie and remembered how awesome mazes had turned out for poor Cedric Diggory.

    If movies taught me anything, it was that nothing good ever happened in a maze at night.

    Mazes in general were just a fucking freaky thing. I¡¯d never asked Lucas why he had one. Given its size and height it had probably been built by his grandfather and remained a standard feature on the Rain mansion¡¯s grounds ever since.

    I hadn¡¯t ventured near it on any of my previous visits to the house because enclosed spaces made me uneasy and I wasn¡¯t a fan of getting lost on purpose.

    But if I were going to hide, it was exactly where I¡¯d go.

    And Morgan was smart enough to think the same thing.

    I slipped the sheath off my katana and left it at the entrance. If the time came when I needed to use the sword, I didn¡¯t want to waste precious seconds shucking off the cover, and I wanted to know where I¡¯d left it when I came out the other side.

    I was glad to have changed into my boots, now. The lawn was damp and spongy, and my heels would have sank into the grass with every step.

 Page 43

    Sucking in a deep breath, I stepped under the main arch and into the dark gloom. Even with the moon still nearly full, and with my heightened vision, it was impossible to make anything out in the blackened corridors.

    Supernatural sight was a lot like night vision¡ªthere needed to be some light in order to have something to see. I could make out the edges of turns, but nothing else. Just me, the maze and the midnight shadows.

    The vampire in me wanted to call out to her, to coax and tease her like a cat with a mouse. But the werewolf in me won out. She knew the proper way to hunt was to do so with silence and stealth. To wait until you were certain no mistakes would be made, and then strike.

    There was no room for mistakes here.

    Every turn I rounded was a new opportunity for my heart to lurch into my throat. Yet each time I found only more darkness. The hem of my dress rustled where it brushed against the thick walls of ivy, or whatever plant had been used for the hedge. The sound was quiet, but louder than I would have liked. A whisper when I was hoping for silence.

    It also made it impossible for me to move with my back against the wall, as I normally would have. In order to stay as stealthy as possible I needed to walk down the center of the path, where my skirt couldn¡¯t touch the leaves.

    I stopped walking and sniffed the air.

    The scent of wet grass and bushes was overwhelming. It wasn¡¯t like the pine forests I was used to back home, but the aroma was similarly woodsy and wild. The night itself smelled cold¡ªthere was no better way to describe it. Crisp, fresh and so clean it almost hurt to breathe it, that¡¯s how cold smells.

    My bare skin responded with a shiver.

    The musk of wolf was everywhere, covering everything. I shouldn¡¯t have been surprised¡ªthis was where the pack came for each full moon. Lucas probably had them run through the maze as training for¡­well, who knew. But it made sense in a twisted, wolfy way. One never knew when there¡¯d be a tough spot to get out of. Putting the pack through drills like that was something I could imagine Lucas coming up with.

    Just thinking about Lucas made me sick to my stomach.

    It was bad enough I had to be here, at his home. I didn¡¯t want to be thinking about how clever it was of him to put our pack through their paces. Our pack. Was it even ours anymore? Days ago I¡¯d thought I belonged. I¡¯d become a wolf, I¡¯d run among others of my kind and I¡¯d felt like I was finally a part of the thing Lucas had been calling ours for so long.

    I¡¯d believed I deserved to be their queen. Or at the very least I¡¯d earned my role as pack protector. Knowing I could meet the pack on their level had made me feel free. It made me feel accepted. I no longer had to hide from them on full moons. They wouldn¡¯t question my loyalty.

    And now what?

    Morgan was trying to kill me because she would never believe I deserved the position more than she did. She couldn¡¯t be the only one who thought it, even if she was the only one to act on it. And what would the pack think of Lucas¡¯s commitment to me now? Mated or not, he had scorned me, and everyone knew it.

    How had he missed the plot Morgan had hatched? Had he blinded himself to her betrayal because he had other reasons to believe he could trust her?

    I stopped walking and fought to catch my breath.

    Why would any man foolishly believe a woman¡¯s lies? Why had I let Lucas trick me time and time again? Love, sure¡­but that wasn¡¯t how he¡¯d gotten things past me. No, Lucas had distracted me with passion. Pure, burning lust. It was how he¡¯d activated the mate bond. And what had we been doing before the mate ceremony in Louisiana?

    We¡¯d been fucking.

    Was that it? Was that how Morgan had made him too stupid to see what she was up to? She¡¯d managed to have her assassins find me everywhere I should have been safe. On the highway and at Callum¡¯s compound in the south.

    I¡¯d been an idiot not to suspect her before, but I trusted her because Lucas trusted her.

    Had she been the reason he stood me up too? Surely it benefited her to have me there alone, though I can¡¯t imagine she ever meant to get caught red-handed pulling the trigger. I knew she wanted me dead so she could have her chance with Lucas.

    But maybe she¡¯d already had a taste.

    I gagged.

    I didn¡¯t want to believe it. It didn¡¯t seem like something Lucas would be capable of. I knew I hadn¡¯t been virginal and innocent, but he¡¯d known about my relationship with Desmond. He¡¯d even encouraged it, to a point. The soul-bond meant something. It transcended simple lust. He and Desmond had known since before they met me that it might create conflict, but they also knew I would be with the king in the end.

    I didn¡¯t like having a polyamorous relationship, but I never lied about it. Lucas knew I spent most every night in bed with Desmond, and Desmond knew I had my nights with Lucas. None of us were thrilled about it. It wasn¡¯t like those happy-go-lucky m¨¦nage scenarios that cluttered up romance novels. We always knew a time would come when three would be whittled down to two.

    But I¡¯d never dreamed Lucas would find fulfillment elsewhere.

    The more I thought about it, the more flustered I became. Maybe I was losing my mind, reading too much into it, but it was hard not to imagine Lucas as a villain given how he¡¯d recently behaved. When this was said and done and Morgan was in the ground, Lucas would answer for his actions.

    One thing was certain, though, even if he hadn¡¯t cheated on me¡­

    We were done.

    Soul-bond or not. Mate bond. Fucking mate ceremony. None of it mattered now. I didn¡¯t care if the wolves didn¡¯t do divorce, or that I was the queen as far as every werewolf on the East Coast was concerned. I¡¯d never be able to look at Lucas Rain the same way.

    I¡¯d never trust him again, and without trust a relationship wasn¡¯t worth shit.

    I¡¯d been still so long a thin film of moisture coated my skin the same way it had the grass.

    And long enough to hear rustling and a muffled female curse one wall away.

    I moved as quickly and silently as I could, praying the next turn wouldn¡¯t lead me farther from her, not when I¡¯d come so close to finding her. And then I rounded the bend and came face to startled face with the woman I¡¯d been hunting.

    For a second we just stood still, staring stupidly at each other. I was dumbfounded by my luck, and she was cursing her lack of it.

    The moment vanished and she turned to run, but not before I grabbed a fistful of her glossy black hair and shoved her forward, using the momentum of her run to drive her into the ground face first. It wasn¡¯t as satisfying as it might have been on concrete, and the grass buffered the worst of her fall, but I heard her nose break.

    It was a start.

    I pulled her up and flipped her onto her back, kicking the gun from her hand and lowering myself down so I was straddling her, with her arms pinned by her sides. I held the blade of my sword flush to her neck. Her nose was bloody and already swollen, but instead of fear her eyes showed nothing but resignation.

    ¡°Make it quick,¡± she whispered, then looked away from me.

    ¡°You don¡¯t deserve it to be quick.¡±

    ¡°No.¡±

    ¡°Why did you do it?¡± I lightened up on the blade so she could speak without me slitting her throat in the process.

    ¡°You had too much. You had Lucas, you had Desmond. The whole fucking pack adored you because you were the protector. You¡¯d killed Marcus, and they loved you for it.¡± Her lashes were damp with tears. ¡°Before you came along, Lucas paid attention to me. We joked that if his mate never showed up, he¡¯d need a strong girl to stand with him. He was mine.¡±

    This was something I¡¯d never considered. I¡¯d been so quick to think Lucas had trusted her because of sex, it never occurred to me the sex might have happened before he¡¯d ever met me.

    ¡°But he was never meant to be yours.¡±

    ¡°No?¡± Her tears flowed freely now. ¡°Do you know how rare it is for someone to meet their soul-bonded mate? If you¡¯d never showed up, today might have been my wedding. It might have been my pack.¡±

    I withdrew my sword. The blind homicidal urges I¡¯d felt moments before had faded. I got to my feet and picked her gun off the ground. My carefully safetied SIG was wedged between my corset-bound breasts, so I had a free hand for her thirty-eight. Girl meant business. I checked the chamber and found she¡¯d taken time to reload since leaving the hotel, because she wasn¡¯t missing any bullets and she¡¯d fired at least one at Columbia.

    ¡°Get up.¡±

    Morgan froze, maybe waiting to be tricked or for me to change my mind. ¡°I don¡¯t¡­¡±

    ¡°Just get up.¡±

    She clambered to her feet and cast a sideways glance down the dark corridor.

    ¡°No. No wise ideas. You make a run for it and I blow your head off, simple as that.¡±

    In spite of my warning she still seemed to be considering her chances. ¡°What are you going to do to me?¡±

    ¡°Nothing, if you don¡¯t run.¡±

    ¡°But¡­I tried to kill you.¡±

    Like I needed reminding. ¡°You sure did.¡±

    Morgan appeared confused until I smiled. There was nothing friendly about the gesture. ¡°You tried to kill the Queen of the Eastern pack,¡± I continued. ¡°And you might have succeeded in killing the king¡¯s lieutenant.¡± My finger tensed on the trigger. The flash of memory reminded me what Desmond had looked like on the platform, soaking in his own blood, all to save me¡­ It was almost enough to make me change my mind.

    ¡°You¡¯re a betrayer,¡± I concluded.

    ¡°I¡­¡± She grew pale.

    ¡°Do you know how vampires deal with rogues? Those who betray their own kind?¡± When she shook her head, my smile grew wider and I flashed fangs at her. She took a step back, but I raised my sword. It was the only warning I needed to give. ¡°They chain them in silver and lock them away. For centuries. No food, no fresh air. They let them slip out of memory until they are withered, disgusting husks. Shells.¡±

    Morgan got even whiter.

    ¡°Death becomes a dream.¡± I looked at the gun, then back at her. ¡°We can¡¯t do that to you, of course. Without food you¡¯d starve to death. Unpleasant, sure¡­but not nearly as punishing.¡± Licking my fangs, I shrugged one shoulder. ¡°Doesn¡¯t matter. We have plenty of time.¡±

 Page 44

    ¡°We¡­we do?¡±

    I nodded. ¡°You¡¯re going to live a very long life, Morgan. And I¡¯m going to find a way to make sure you hate every single second of what¡¯s left.¡±

    Chapter Forty-Seven

    Seventy-six.

    That was the number of calls, texts and emails I received from Lucas in the two weeks following our failed wedding.

    Zero was the number I had returned.

    Maybe it would have been smarter of me to send back one line. Something short and brutal, like Fuck you, I never want to speak to you again. But I didn¡¯t. That felt childish, and it would have made me out to be a caricature of a jilted bride.

    Jilted. It was one of those words you only ever hear used in one context.

    I paced my kitchen as the seventy-seventh phone call came through. Billy Idol no longer sang to me when it rang. Now Lily Allen¡¯s ¡°Fuck You¡± was the go-to ringtone. At least for Lucas. Everyone else got Hall & Oates¡¯s ¡°Maneater¡±.

    Yeah, that¡¯s right.

    While I waited for the call to go to voicemail, I opened my freezer and looked inside. Reaching past the half-empty bottle of vodka, I withdrew an ice cube tray and inspected the contents. My engagement ring lay frozen in one of the cubes, glimmering at me even in the low kitchen light. I sneered, thrust the tray back into the freezer and then punished myself a little by listening to Lucas¡¯s message.

    ¡°Secret¡­¡± His voice sounded the same on every message. Tired, apologetic, but the last ten or so had also come across with some of his signature impatience. ¡°I know you¡¯re still upset.¡± I snorted. ¡°But we need to sit down and talk about this like mature adults.¡± Really, he was pulling the mature adults card? There was a long, loaded pause. ¡°I miss you.¡±

    I deleted the message.

    Leave it to Lucas to make me seem like the irrational one. It didn¡¯t matter that Page Six had spent a whole week covering the fallout from the so-called ¡°White Wedding Massacre¡±. Forget the gossip column, our wedding had been front page on The Times and the Post. Both articles made sure to mention how right before the gunfire started I had been stood up.

    According to pack law, we were still married.

    According to me, I didn¡¯t give a fuck what pack law thought. Lucas and I were done.

    I picked up the phone again and made a call. After three rings it was answered with a sleepy, rumbling, ¡°Hey.¡±

    ¡°Did I wake you?¡±

    Rustling sheets and a cough to clear the traces of sleep out of his voice. ¡°No,¡± Desmond lied.

    ¡°I woke you, I¡¯m sorry. Go back to bed.¡±

    ¡°You okay?¡±

    ¡°Yeah.¡±

    ¡°Liar.¡±

    I stared at the light on my microwave. Eleven forty-seven. I should have checked before I called, but I was still so used to Desmond being on my schedule it was hard to adjust now that he was living like a normal human man again. Out in the daylight where he belonged, not stuck down in a brick-windowed basement dungeon with me.

    ¡°I¡­¡± miss you, I thought, but didn¡¯t quite manage to say. ¡°Just wanted to see how you were feeling.¡±

    ¡°Got myself a nice little scar. Doc said one inch over and you and I wouldn¡¯t be having this conversation.¡±

    I choked back a sob. A bit of noise must have come out because he asked, ¡°You sure you¡¯re all right?¡±

    ¡°Yeah.¡±

    Another silence.

    ¡°The pack came back with a decision about Morgan.¡±

    ¡°Oh?¡± It was all I could say. After I¡¯d brought her out of the hedge maze in one piece, everyone was so shocked she was still alive it had taken them a little time to figure out how she should be punished. As far as the general public was concerned¡ªpolice, her day job, her friends¡ªshe had vanished without a trace after failing to kill me.

    Since then the pack had been having heated debates about her fate. Debates I wasn¡¯t a part of because it would mean being in the same room as Lucas. He was right, we were going to have to talk sooner or later so we could figure out where I fit in the pack now that we were through. But I was still holding on to later.

    ¡°Yeah,¡± Desmond continued. ¡°Apparently there¡¯s a pack in Siberia¡­¡±

    ¡°Siberia?¡±

    ¡°That¡¯s all I know.¡±

    ¡°Desmond¡­¡± I rested my head against the cool kitchen wall and imagined I was lying next to him.

    ¡°Mmhmm?¡± Sleep was clouding his voice again, and I knew I¡¯d lose him soon.

    ¡°Do you ever think¡­maybe¡­about coming home?¡±

    Silence.

    I waited, thinking he was just carefully considering his answer. Then the breathing on the other end grew slow and regular, and he began to snore softly. I kept my eyes closed and listened, lying with him in my mind, even though twenty-eight city blocks separated us.

    It might as well have been twenty-eight states.

    After too many minutes to be healthy for me, I hung up.

    May was a great time for night walks in New York. It wasn¡¯t too hot, nor was it so cold as to need layers. I wore Dominick¡¯s leather jacket over my white V-neck shirt and jeans as I traversed the path from my apartment to the only destination my feet seemed willing to go.

    In spite of the late hour, the streets teemed with life. The city was awake and alive, ready to drink in as much spring as it could before the seasons shifted and summer swelled up, bloated and stinky with offensive heat.

    I wove through the crowds, barely conscious of my own movements. In SoHo a new tattoo studio was still open, and a guy smoking on the front steps offered me a nod as I passed. I smiled, but not too much, and kept walking. I moved past the council headquarters without so much as a second glance, and walked until my feet hit the familiar tile lobby of an apartment building I hadn¡¯t seen in quite some time.

    I took the stairs slowly, head down, until I reached the appropriate floor, and once I was outside the door I shook off the stupor that had cloaked me the whole way here. I stared at the green door with its peeling paint, and my heart began to hammer. For a second I thought about turning around and going back home.

    But what was waiting for me at home? An empty apartment. A cat that missed a man almost as much as I did.

    I raised my hand, and after a heartbeat of debate, I rapped on the door.

    A moment later it swung open, and I offered a weak smile to the dark-haired owner of the suite. ¡°I know it¡¯s late¡­¡±

    ¡°It¡¯s fine.¡± He gave me a confused look. ¡°What¡¯s up?¡±

    I glanced past him, into the wide-open loft, then I met his gaze and held it for a long time. Long enough it took on more meaning than I meant it to. Finally I said, ¡°I¡¯ve come to make good on a promise.¡±

    Holden stared at me, his eyes widening only slightly. Then he stepped out of the doorway and let me in.