Chapter Eleven
Swiping her choice of outfit from the wardrobe two days later, Emberlyn paused on hearing the phone ring. She crossed to the bed, carefully laid her clothes on the mattress, then headed for the phone on the nightstand. She lifted the receiver to her ear. ‘Hello?’
‘Emberlyn, this is Clarence Robbins.’
She blinked in surprise. The werewolf had not only been her grandmother’s lawyer but also the executor of the will. ‘What can I do for you, Clarence?’
‘I’ve been contacted by one of the coven’s lawyers, Tyra.’ He sighed. ‘I’m sorry to say that your family is planning to contest Millicent’s will.’
She felt her lips tighten. ‘Yes, I’d heard that they might.’ And she would bet that Tyra was loving that she had a hand in this.
‘Could you come by my office this morning so that we can discuss it further?’
‘I’ll be there. What time?’
‘My schedule is open until ten a.m. – stop by sometime before then, if you can.’
‘Will do.’ Ending the call, Emberlyn rubbed at her neck.
Her family certainly wasn’t wasting any time in putting their plan in motion.
She didn’t think they had a chance of rendering the will invalid, but what if they did?
She’d lose her home, lose her connection to it, lose the peace she always found here.
Fuck those assholes.
It would be different if they wanted the manor for the right reason; if they gave the first damn about it. But they didn’t. It was greed that drove Emberlyn’s family to do this. Greed, and the bitterness they felt at the manor choosing her.
As Millicent herself had stated in the letter she’d pinned to the grandfather clock, the manor should be inhabited by someone who adored and treasured it.
But if her family did overturn the will and manage to acquire the house, they wouldn’t keep or take care of it.
They’d relinquish it to Reena, ending the tradition of it being a home to Vautier witches.
And she’d never love or cherish it. For the High Priestess, it would be a status symbol. A prize.
Emberlyn cursed beneath her breath and then called Paisley.
‘Yo?’ the witch simply greeted.
‘I’m going to be a little late coming in this morning,’ Emberlyn informed her. ‘Millicent’s lawyer has asked to see me.’
Paisley paused. ‘That’s . . . okay.’ It was clearly killing Paisley not to ask for more information.
Emberlyn’s lips twitched. Her friend was upset with her for not calling straight after the Rabid attack – it had meant that Paisley learned of it via Kage, which annoyed her even more. Just yesterday, she’d rather dramatically told Emberlyn to not speak to her for at least a week.
‘We can handle things without you,’ Paisley sassed. ‘Stay gone as long as you want. It’s truly fine.’
‘I thought you didn’t want to talk to me.’
The line went dead.
Chuckling, Emberlyn set down the receiver again. Moving to the bed, she grabbed her forest-green silk blouse. She winced as she slipped it on, the movements pulling at her shoulder wound. The skin around it felt tight.
Thanks to the heavy use of poultice and magick over the past two days, the claw marks were rapidly healing. But since the chafing of any clothing would for sure aggravate them, she applied gauze to both injuries each morning.
It had taken her by surprise when Ripper had asked to tend to her shoulder Saturday night.
She’d sensed that his protective instincts were on fire, of course, but still.
She didn’t think his reaction was so much about her as that she was his ally – a person he’d sworn to keep safe.
It would have offended his nature that someone under his protection was harmed.
When he’d braced a hand on her back, his fingers curling over her shoulder and resting on her nape, she’d startled. Because the move had been firm, deliberate and held a bold familiarity.
It had also made her nerve-endings sing, and she’d been unable to stop little bumps from sweeping over her flesh.
She’d expected his movements to be swift and all business when he applied the poultice. But his touch had been careful, slow and precise – not at all clinical. And when he’d finished, his hands had briefly lingered. Not in a sexual way. It had seemed more of a protective gesture.
It had still excited her hormones.
Shoving him out of her mind for now, she fastened the buttons of her blouse and stepped into her black pants.
They had a slight flare, which meant the lines of her leg bandage wouldn’t show through the material.
People knew about the attack, yes, but she didn’t want to remind them of it – it only prompted the kind of questions and comments she’d been peppered with since the attack . . .
Are you okay?
What exactly happened?
Why was Logan there?
Do you know who the Rabid might have been?
I’ll bet you were all shaken up, you poor thing.
She’d meant what she’d told Ripper and Logan – she hadn’t been unnerved by the attack. More saddened, in actual fact. Because she’d been forced to hurt a creature who was really a person stuck in that form.
Once dressed, she downed coffee and breakfast in the kitchen before heading out.
Arriving at her destination, she parked her car in a space across the street from the lawyer’s office.
Climbing out, she hooked her purse strap over her shoulder and crossed the road, cursing in her head as she noticed her ex-in laws, the Reeds, stepping out of the nearby dentist’s practice.
Both did a double-take as Emberlyn reached the sidewalk, their lips weakly curving.
‘We heard about the attack,’ said Claris, giving her a head-to-toe scan. ‘We’d planned to pop into the hub and see how you were doing.’
Feeling awkward as ever around the couple, Emberlyn gave her a soft smile. ‘I’m fine, thanks.’
Colton frowned at that. ‘Rumor has it that you were wounded.’
‘I was, but not badly. And the injuries are healing well.’ She rocked forward slightly. ‘Well. Thanks for checking on me.’
‘The Rabid . . . it wasn’t Michael?’ asked Claris.
‘No, it definitely wasn’t Michael.’ Emberlyn knew that for certain, because the Rabid had lacked the three claw scars on his cheek that her ex-mate sported. ‘You two take care.’
Bypassing them, she pushed open the lawyer’s office door and stepped into the waiting room. Her gaze immediately slid to the male sitting on a plush chair near the reception desk.
Ripper.
She halted in surprise. Her feminine parts responded in a very predictable fashion – waving and smiling seductively.
Would she ever be able to truly prepare herself for the impact of him? Doubtful. One piercing look from those eyes and her thoughts got scrambled.
At the mahogany desk, one of her favorite customers lifted her head and smiled brightly. ‘Emberlyn, good morning. Mr Robbins said you’d be stopping by.’ Laine stood upright. ‘I’ll let him know you’re here. Take a seat.’
‘Thanks, Laine,’ said Emberlyn.
As the female werewolf disappeared down a hallway to the left of her desk, Emberlyn returned her attention to Ripper. Her heels clicked along the glossy wooden floor as she made her way to the chair beside his.
‘Figured the lawyer probably called you as well,’ he said in that gravelly voice that grazed her nerve-endings in the best way.
She sat down. ‘He asked to speak with you, too?’
‘Makes sense. Your family wants my land, not just your home. How’s your shoulder and leg?’
‘Healing well.’
‘No side effects from the antivenom?’
‘None,’ she replied, glancing around. The waiting room was all crème paint and mahogany wood. A few framed generic pictures hung on the walls. A water cooler was positioned in the corner while a plant stood in the one opposite.
‘You ever had to use it before?’ He hooked his arm over the back of her chair.
Her pulse jumped, because it wasn’t only a protective display; he was essentially eating into her personal space like it was nothing. Ballsy bastard. ‘Only once.’
His face darkened. ‘When was that?’
Michael had attacked her before he ran for Bloodhill, but it wasn’t something she talked about. ‘That’s a whole other story. I’ll tell you about it sometime.’ Maybe. Probably not.
Laine reappeared, smiling. ‘Clarence will be with you both very soon – he’s just finishing a call.’ She returned to her chair and went right back to her computer.
Emberlyn glanced at Ripper. ‘On the subject of people being bitten by werewolves, I wanted to ask you something.’ She crossed her legs, not failing to notice how his gaze dipped to them. ‘One of my best friends, Paisley, is interested in taking the Change.’
His eyes flew back to hers, squinting. ‘That’s Kage’s sister, right?’
‘Right. She’d like to join your clan, if possible. I don’t know how you go about choosing people, but I was wondering if you could at least speak with her.’
He gave a slow nod. ‘I can do that.’
‘She has a family thing tonight. Tomorrow sometime after five?’
‘I’m free then.’
‘Choose a location best for you. She can’t meet with you at her house because the coven isn’t supportive of her decision.’
‘I’ll be at the manor around six-thirty.’
Thanks for asking if you can use my home.
A male with slicked-back salt-and-pepper hair materialized, clad in a black suit. He glanced from her to Ripper, a polite smile gracing his jowly face and tugging up his mustache. ‘I appreciate you both coming on such short notice. I’m sorry to have kept you waiting.’
She and Ripper rose from their seats and crossed to him.
Hands were shaken, and brief greetings were exchanged.
Clarence then led them down the hallway and into an office.
The décor was very old school, all dark woods and vintage furnishings.
Even the brass lamp on his cluttered desktop appeared to be an antique.