Chapter 15 – KILLIAN
KILLIAN
Standing at the edge of Villeneuve's property feels like standing at the mouth of a dragon's lair. A dragon's lair in hell.
Which… might not be far from the truth, given what we know about the bastard.
The morning sun reflects on all the glass surfaces of his stupid pretentious mansion, and I feel like an ant under a bully's magnifying glass.
Sure, my family is rich as fuck, too, but at least we invest in stone.
Wolves and glass houses don't mix. One drunken game of fetch and it all comes crashing down.
My wolf paces beneath my skin, hackles raised at the faint tingle of magic that marks the boundary of his wards.
We can't cross them.
Not without his permission.
And that grates on every alpha instinct I possess.
Regina stands beside me, completely calm despite the fact that I'm freaking the fuck out. Through our bond, I can feel her amusement at my hostility, which only makes it worse.
I'd take her thinking I'm funny over her being afraid of me any day, though.
She's cradling something in her hands. A small glass vial filled with liquid that pulses with soft, amber light.
"What is that?" I ask, nodding toward it.
She glances down at the vial, her thumb brushing across its surface. "A stabilizing solution. One of my specialties."
"Your specialties?"
"Siphons are good at certain types of magic that regular witches struggle with.
" She holds the vial up to the light, and the glow intensifies.
Warm patterns flash across her face. She's wearing her glamour again.
Wish she wouldn't. "This is a stabilizing agent.
It's useful for dozens of different spells. "
"Sounds valuable."
"It is. The witches who came to Kyle's coven always wanted me to make them.
" Her voice stays neutral, but I catch the slight tightening around her soft jaw at the mention of her ex.
"Non-siphons can produce them, but it takes triple the time and the results are inconsistent. Mine are... well. Better."
"So you're bringing Villeneuve a bribe."
Regina shoots me a look that could curdle milk and also happens to be sexy as fuck. "It's not a bribe. It's a thank you for helping with the ritual."
"Seems like the same thing."
"There's a diplomatic process to these things, Killian." She tucks the vial carefully into her jacket pocket. "You don't walk into a negotiation empty-handed. And you definitely don't open with what you want. You build rapport first and establish goodwill."
"I don't want to build rapport with that guy. I want to punch him in his smug face."
"And that's exactly why I'm the one doing the talking."
Can't really argue with that logic.
We wait in uncomfortable silence. Well, I'm uncomfortable. Regina seems perfectly content to stand here in the crisp morning air, watching the house like she's got all the time in the world. The bond between us hums with her steady confidence, her certainty that this is the right move.
I wish I shared it.
The distant growl of an engine cuts through the quiet. My head snaps toward the sound, wolf senses already identifying the vehicle before it rounds the corner. Sleek and obnoxious.
Villeneuve's Aston Martin purrs up the private drive like a metal panther, black paint gleaming in the sunlight. The car alone probably costs more than the fucking frat house. Hell, more than everything in the frat house combined, including Sean's "vintage" gaming console collection.
The engine cuts off.
The door opens.
And there he is.
Professor Elias Villeneuve unfolds himself from the driver's seat like someone who's never had to rush a day in his clearly unnaturally long life. There's no way this guy is in his late twenties like he says, always with that slight grin like he's ageless because he eats virgins for breakfast.
No. Fucking. Way.
His suit is charcoal today, perfectly tailored, not a crease or wrinkle in sight. His dark hair is slicked back from a face even more smug than usual as he regards us like he knew we were on our way.
"Regina." His voice carries across the distance between us, cultured and cool. "What a nice surprise."
He ignores me, of course.
Pointedly.
A growl builds in my chest before I can stop it. The sound rumbles out, low and threatening. Regina's elbow connects with my ribs. Gently, but with clear intent.
Behave, the gesture says.
"Professor." Regina's voice is warm, diplomatic. "I was hoping I could thank you properly for your assistance with the ritual. And discuss something, if you have a moment?"
Villeneuve's lips curve into something that might be a smile on someone less unnerving. This guy triggers every uncanny valley sensor in my system, and as a wolf, there are many sensors.
"I always have time for you, Ms. Cook." His gaze slides to me, and the smile sharpens. "And your... service dog."
I snarl before I can stop myself. Regina's hand finds my arm, fingers pressing a warning into my bicep.
"Killian came to provide additional context for our discussion," she says smoothly. "Pack alpha perspective and all that."
"Right." Villeneuve extracts a set of keys from his pocket, moving toward the front door with the unhurried stride of a man who owns everything he surveys. "Please, come in."
He makes a subtle gesture with his hand, and I feel the wards shift. The magical barrier that's been pressing against my senses like an invisible wall suddenly parts, creating a gap just wide enough for us to pass through.
Regina steps forward without hesitation. I follow, every muscle tensed for—
The world explodes.
One second I'm walking. The next, I'm airborne, launched backward like I've been hit by a freight train. I crash into the grass hard enough to drive every fucking hint of breath out of my lungs. Or maybe that's the magical energy breaking across my skin like lightning.
This fucking asshole—
"My apologies." Villeneuve's voice drifts over me, dripping with false concern. And disdain. Very real disdain. "I must have forgotten to adjust the parameters for wolf shifters. The wards can be quite... temperamental."
Prick.
I push myself up on my elbows, dirt and grass clinging to my jacket. The smug bastard is standing in his doorway, watching me with the hint of a smirk that's probably only obvious to me.
He didn't forget shit.
He knew exactly what would fucking happen.
"Killian." Regina's beside me in an instant. Through our bond, I feel her concern, but also her irritation. At me, for growling. At Villeneuve, for being a dick. At least she's onto him. "Are you okay?"
"Fine," I grit out, brushing off my clothes. My pride's more bruised than my body.
Villeneuve makes another gesture, and this time when I step forward, the wards accept me without incident. Still feels like walking through cobwebs made of static electricity, but at least I stay on my feet.
The inside of his house is exactly what I expected. It looks like an IKEA catalog fucked a glass blowing workshop, and there are books everywhere.
Shit, Regina must love this place. I seriously need to up the number of books in the frat house. Books out the ass.
We follow Villeneuve into what I assume is his study even though it's bigger than our entire living room.
Huge windows let in natural light, and even more books fill custom shelving that stretches toward the ceiling.
The annoying kinds of books that are probably gun boxes because no one actually reads that shit.
A massive oak desk dominates one corner, its surface completely clear except for a single pen.
Fucking anal retentive whackadoo.
"Please, sit." He gestures toward a pair of leather armchairs facing the desk. "Can I offer you anything? Tea? Coffee?"
"We're fine," I say before Regina can accept any of his creepy magic potions.
She shoots me another look but doesn't contradict me.
Why do I get the feeling she's accepted his tea? Oh yeah. She has. He looks slightly surprised, and maybe a little disappointed.
Hmmmm.
Villeneuve settles into the chair behind his desk. "I take it the ritual went well?"
"Yes." Regina reaches into her pocket and withdraws the glowing vial. The light pulses gently in her palm as she sets it on the desk between them. "Very. This is just a small token of appreciation."
Villeneuve's eyebrows rise fractionally. He picks up the vial, holding it up to examine the contents with an expression I've never seen on his face before.
Genuine interest.
"A stabilizing solution," he murmurs, turning the vial to watch the liquid shift. "And a remarkably pure one." His dark eyes lift to meet Regina's. "You made this yourself?"
"It's one of my specialties."
The pride in her voice makes my chest puff up, even if I hate the fact that she's here in my enemy's lair.
And this is absolutely a fucking lair.
He sets the vial down with care. "The composition is impressive. Most siphons struggle to achieve this level of refinement, even with their natural advantages."
"Thank you."
"I assume this is meant to offset the dragon's blood?"
Regina shakes her head. "That would require something far more substantial. This is simply gratitude for your assistance. Nothing more."
He blinks in what seems to be actual surprise. "Most witches would have tried to frame it as full payment."
"I'm not most witches."
He smiles slightly. "No. No, you're not."
They're having a moment, I realize with growing irritation. Some kind of magical nerd bonding moment over fancy potions and diplomatic procedures.
I shift in my chair and loosen my grip on the armrests before I crack the fancy fucking wood and give Villeneuve the chance to tell me I'll have to replace it with hand-picked shit from the fae realm or something.
"But I sense there's something else. Something beyond simple gratitude. I prefer to be direct, Ms. Cook. What is it you actually want?" Villeneuve leans back, studying Regina with those penetrating eyes.