Chapter Two #3
She gave me a sunny smile. “Then we’ll just have to change the situation even more, won’t we?
” The wounded, damaged woman I’d seen during that vision replay was gone as if she’d never existed.
There was a warrior light in her vivid eyes now -- she meant to gut her would-be assassin.
Which would make protecting her even harder.
I knew this was going to be one of those missions.
“Let’s go,” Iona said, and rose to head for the door.
I jumped out of my chair and caught her arm. “The bodyguard goes first.”
She lifted a green brow. “How often have you played bodyguard?”
I shrugged. “I haven’t, but I’ve had enough of them to know procedure.”
“Fine.” It sounded like one of those “fines” women used in lieu of “fuck you.”
At least she’d agreed.
Unfortunately, my Sidhe form wasn’t exactly the best choice for the job. But how would she react to the other option? What if she was repulsed, like the women of the court?
Not that it mattered -- duty was duty. As Mom always said, “Otherwise they’d call duty ‘that fun thing I get to do.’” My job was to protect Iona, not the dream of love I’d Seen. “I’m going to have to shift for this. My Dire Wolf form is better equipped to deal with would-be assassins.”
“I can believe that.” She smiled as if the thought of my transformation didn’t bother her at all. “I’ve worked with a lot of werewolves. They make damn good cops, and anybody who fucks with them usually ends up regretting it.”
But would she feel the same once she’d seen my wolf? Court ladies who’d urged me to transform had ended up more terrified than intrigued. Except for the ones who wanted to fuck me in fur -- which I did not do. I refused to be anybody’s perversion.
She looked up at me, both brows rising now.
Dammit, quit stalling. I reached for my magic and let it roll over me in a foaming wave of power and grinding pain. As my body transformed, the room seemed to shrink. In an instant, the shift was complete.
Now she’d see who -- and what -- I really was. I braced myself and looked down at her, prepared for revulsion despite what she’d said.
Iona’s eyes went wide, and I froze, trying to read her expression.
“You are the biggest damn werewolf I’ve ever seen,” she told me, sounding impressed. “What are you, eight feet?”
“Eight-feet four,” I admitted, relaxing.
“Yeah, you would definitely make assassins think twice.” Her lips curled, no revulsion in that smile. It looked like admiration.
Maybe that vision isn’t a pipe dream after all.
No. I am not setting myself up to get kicked in the teeth. Though it wouldn’t be the first time, and it wouldn’t be the last.
Quit mooning. Find him, the sword hissed from my hip, spitting a rain of green.
Iona looked down at the weapon and her brows shot up again as she took in Dragon’s Breath. With werewolves, clothing and gear usually vanished between shifts, only to magically return when you changed back. “Why is your sword still here?”
I gave her a careful smile, trying not to flash my fangs. “It wants to be.”
Her gaze dropped, and I fought the impulse to cup my hands over my cock. Yes, there was a thick ruff of fur there that hid everything that needed hiding -- at least as long as I didn’t get… enthusiastic.
Was that speculation in those vivid green eyes?
Oh, no, I thought, feeling something stir I did not want to come up. Deliberately, I focused on the image from that nightmare vision of Iona and the griffin.
And that took care of that.
The sword seemed to take a bite out of my hip, and I hid a grimace, stepping over to the closed door and lowering my head.
I drew in a breath, sampling the air with my lupine senses.
There was a mélange of fading scents of those who’d entered the building recently -- several werewolves, Demisidhe, a couple of trolls, and six Sidhe, plus fainter whiffs of various other races, including a dragon in human form and a small army of mortal humans.
The only people in the building now were a banshee I could hear singing mournfully, one -- no, two -- Demisidhe, and another werewolf. “Who’s downstairs?”
“A guard, a couple of shoplifters and a drunken banshee who likes to hit notes that would make a wolf howl at four in the morning. She’s still not sober. They’re in the holding cells until the magistrate can set bail.”
“That explains that, then.” I led the way into the bullpen with its assorted desks and laptops, then down the hall to the department’s front office where the public came to file police reports.
Iona followed me, making no attempt to move ahead.
My Dire Wolf form seemed to have convinced her to accept my protection.
In the front office, I gestured at her to hang back. A little to my surprise, she obeyed, watching as I headed for the glass doors, drawing my sword. Protect her. Kill them, it hissed, all reptilian malevolence.
“Working on it,” I muttered as I reached out with my power, searching for nearby magical signatures. There were plenty, but they were all faint. Some distance away.
I stepped out into the street and paused, scenting the air and scanning for threats.
Didn’t find any. The street was wide and straight to accommodate film crews, paved in smooth, pale concrete spelled to be stronger and less prone to cracking than the mortal version.
Restaurants, B&Bs, and bars lined the road.
A dizzying array of shops sold magical trinkets, metalwork, leather goods or potions, all designed to attract movie crew members with a yen for souvenirs.