Chapter 4
Chapter
Four
That bastard, Ethan, must have warned Soren I was coming. He stood at the edge of the property line, leaning against a massive oak tree, looking every bit as delicious as he did the last time I saw him.
He was taller than the other Lords, six four if I had to guess.
Messy chestnut-colored hair fell over his face, a touch longer than I was used to seeing on him, and startling blue eyes topped off his handsome countenance.
When Soren really looked at you, it felt like he was staring right at your soul.
Who was I kidding? Soren had one good thing working for him. He was a handsome bastard. The rest I could take or leave.
“Moira,” he said, those blue eyes somber as he watched me step over the territory line. Evie had the entire territory under her control and warded to the gills. No reason to ward this part of the area, even though Rowan had asked her to.
I thought he was pushing his luck, but Evie just sighed. “He’s a Lord. They’re all used to getting what they want.” Her eyes sparkled as she added, “So it’s a lot more fun to tell them no now.”
Evie was no longer the small-town florist she only ever wanted to be.
Now she could close her eyes and kick all their asses with one finger behind her back and not feel bad about it.
If she told Soren no, the Lord was smart enough to cut his losses while he was ahead.
After all, she’d given him brand new territory with very little responsibility.
“Soren.” I inclined my head. “You’re looking well.”
His lips thinned at the subtle dig. The last time we’d seen each other, I’d almost clawed his eyes out as I screamed, “All you have going for you is a pretty face because there’s not a goddamn speck of intellect in your unused head cavity!”
Yeah. I was a little pissed that night. Sue me.
He turned and started walking, gesturing for me to follow. “The house is about a quarter mile up. I set up a room for you.”
I stared at him and let out a surprised laugh. “I’m not staying at the Keep.”
His shoulders stiffened. “There’s no reason not to stay with me.”
“There’s every reason,” I retorted. “The most important being if the witches try to burn your house down, my ass is not dying with you.”
Soren sighed. “You’re worse than Evie,” he muttered. “So much worse.”
“Took you all long enough to see it,” I said sweetly.
“At least come up to the house so I can feed you. I’ll have one of my people take you to a hotel as soon as you’re ready.” He looked over his shoulder. “The closest hotel is forty-five minutes away.”
Nice try. Soren was always looking for an angle. “I made reservations earlier.”
He’d chosen the most remote part of the territory to host his watered-down Keep. Eighty percent of his people elected to stay behind when he left, and a permanent Lord had yet to be installed in his old region. Garrett refused the job, and Pax, the only other viable choice, wasn’t quite ready.
Even if he was, I doubted he’d take it. Evie had all but stolen Pax when she visited Ben’s territory a few months ago. He’d been enamored with her the moment they met, and his fascination showed no signs of slowing down.
Rowan was more bemused than anything. Pax was a perfect gentleman and treated her exactly how a shifter would treat the Lady of his territory, but there was something…not off about him, more odd. Plus, he smelled a little funny. Not in a bad way, more in a not-exactly-pure-shifter kind of way.
Darios, the other potentially viable choice, had taken off to parts unknown after seeing some of the insanity revolving around Evie and the Lords.
No one had seen him since. Whether he was alive or plotting world domination or had taken to plunking his head in the sand like an ostrich was anyone’s guess.
“And if I need you right away?” Soren asked.
I smiled. “I’ll respond accordingly, while also keeping in mind you’re a big boy and can run real fast.”
Soren sighed and kept walking. Occasionally, he turned to ensure I was still following, but we spent most of the walk in silence.
Fine by me. I said everything I needed to say to him that fateful night.
We came upon a large white house with an adorable wraparound porch.
Land dotted with colorful wildflowers spread as far as the eye could see.
White smoke piped from the chimney. The elevation was higher here, lending a nip to the slight breeze ruffling our hair.
I inhaled fresh, cool air and felt my shoulders settle.
Soren looked good here. He shoved his hands in his pockets and trudged up the driveway, not a soul coming out to greet him. Unusual, but Soren had an odd relationship with his people. Now that he was down to a skeleton crew, I was sure they were stretched to max capacity.
We went up the porch steps, the creak of old wood sending a memory rushing through my brain of quieter, simpler times. I brushed the thoughts away and centered myself firmly in the present. While I had good memories, most were filled with blood and despair.
If I didn’t keep myself grounded in the present, I felt like I would drown in the pain of my past.
There was an old rocking chair with a colorful blanket slung across the back on the right side of the porch and a small wooden table parked beside it.
A whiskey bottle and rocks glass sat on top of the scarred surface.
Surprisingly, someone had planted a large circular pot of colorful flowers and totally nailed the thriller, filler, spiller adage.
A spiky plant with brilliant orange blooms loomed several inches high, surrounded by a shorter, glossy-leafed plant with creamy white blooms. The edges of the pot spilled over with what looked to be mounding petunias in a medley of bright colors.
“Did you plant those?” I asked as I came up behind him.
Soren glanced at the pot. “I did.” He rubbed the back of his neck as if embarrassed. “This place is wonderful, but it’s not like my old territory. I’d forgotten how remote the wilderness could be.”
A piece of the ice surrounding my heart cracked. “You got lonely.”
His smile was sheepish. “And bored. There’s a great nursery a few miles up the road with supplies. In my spare time, I’m building a greenhouse at the back of the property.”
I eyed him. “Aren’t you worried about putting anything permanent here if Evie yanks her property back?”
Soren shrugged. “I wasn’t worried until you so aptly pointed out my fuck up with the witches.” He pulled a chair from the opposite side of the porch and brought it close to the rocking chair. “Have a seat. I’ll bring out some of that lavender lemonade you like.”
I glared at him, but Soren ignored me and headed inside.
The bastard knew I liked that lemonade. He was trying to catch me off guard.
Wasn’t going to happen. I’d allowed it once and once was more than enough for me.
He came back out with a glass pitcher of purple lemonade and two glasses. Once he poured us both a glass, he sat in the rocking chair and looked out at the property.
“This place really is incredible,” he mused. “Louisiana is flat and hot as hell.”
Soren sighed and shook his head. “I had to go out and buy a whole new wardrobe.”
“Oh noes,” I said softly.
Soren snorted. “Are you ever not an asshole, Moira?”
I shrugged and sipped my lemonade. “Can’t rightly say. It’s been so long, I can’t quite remember a time when I’ve been less witty.”
Soren’s scent was unique but familiar. All the Lords’ scents held a tinge of the wild. Ethan reminded me of crisp snow and pine, mixed with something I couldn’t quite put my finger on. Sometimes his scent changed, but he always remained just Ethan.
To me, Soren smelled like sin and silken sheets, a hint of cinnamon, and a touch of pine.
Intoxicating until you got to know the bastard.
Male models were considered the standard of beauty by many people.
Soren did not look like a model. He looked like more.
I always found describing him difficult.
He was beautiful, the perfect package wrapped up in physical perfection and wit.
I always thought that regardless of what women said out loud, there was something about a man’s physical prowess that revved our engines, provided they preferred the male sex.
Even if they didn’t, sometimes masculinity smacked you right in the face, and even the staunchest disbelievers had to admit that yeah, sometimes someone just had it.
Like Henry Cavill. The United Kingdom’s greatest gift to the world, minus the guillotine.
And for those who think the French invented that wonderful piece of chop-chop machinery, think again.
In fact, there was a wonderful tradition that claimed if a condemned person could get their head out of the contraption once the blade started to fall, their sentence would be commuted, provided they never returned.
“Moira!”
I blinked, jerked from my internal session on fun facts about guillotines. “What?”
He was staring at me with something akin to awe. “I swear. I know vampires can’t have ADD, but your mind is like a squirrel on a treadmill sometimes.”
“Piss off, Soren. Maybe it’s just the company.”
The Lord chuckled.
Yeah. He was a handsome bastard, alright. If he weren’t such a self-absorbed dickhead, he’d be a real force to reckon with. But Soren was far too busy admiring his muscles in the mirror to worry about little things like oh…let’s see, witches plotting his permanent demise.
He poured himself another glass of lemonade and topped mine off. “What were you thinking about?”
“Guillotines,” I said with a sweet smile.
Soren’s brow furrowed. “I can’t help but think you’re serious.”
“I am.”
A male appeared in the distance, tall and lean, like most shifters, but this one had a palpable air of power about him. “Is that your replacement if the witches take you out?” I murmured.
“Fucking hell, Moira.”
I grinned. “He’s pretty, too.”
Soren’s sigh was one for the ages. “Seth is dangerous as hell.”
“Hmm. So am I.”
The look he sent my way this time was considering. “Yes,” he murmured after a moment. “I suppose you are.”
When Seth came close enough, I gave him a good once over.
Evie mentioned him after she’d returned from visiting Soren before all the shit with Danu.
I remembered our conversation because she mentioned Seth was dangerous.
Not that he looked dangerous (because he did) or sounded dangerous, but that he was dangerous.
He’d made no move to attack her, but something inside Evie recognized the predator living inside of him.
I wondered how long Seth spent in his wolf form and if he hadn’t come back quite the same when he finally regained his human form.
“You keep staring at me like that, and we’ll find a good spot away from here to let you see the rest of me.”
Oh Jaysus, Mary, and Josephine. His southern drawl was sweet, molten gold honey, pouring over my skin like warm sunshine.
I took another sip of my lemonade. “You keep talking like that, and I might just let you.”
“For fuck’s sake,” Soren muttered.
“I’m Moira.”
His gaze flicked to Soren, a question in his eyes. Ah. He’d heard of me before. The shifter inclined his head. “Seth. Soren’s Second.”
“Nice to meet you.”
“Likewise.” He pulled up another chair and set it to face us. “I’m surprised not to be pulling you two off each other.”
Soren closed his eyes.
“Do you mean like strangling each other or…?”
“Exactly that. Heard Soren really screwed the pooch with you.”
I let out a bark of laughter. “You could say that. Instead of learning his lesson, he did it again.”
Soren squeezed the space between his brows.
Seth grinned. “In his defense, he pissed off the witches before he acted like an idiot with you.”
“Ah. Well then, I think it’s safe to say we might have more than just the witches trying to kill him soon.”
“I like her,” Seth pronounced. “The little goddess was pretty but wary. This one has claws.”
“Evie keeps her claws sheathed until she has them buried in your throat.” I shrugged. “Mine are always out.”
“Fair enough.”
I filled my glass of lemonade and handed it over. Shifters didn’t care about germs, and he gratefully took my offering.
“You’re not here to help him with the witches, are you?” Seth sent a dubious look in Soren’s direction.
“I am right here,” he growled. “And yes, that is what she’s here for.”
Seth let out a low whistle and looked at me. “Who’d you piss off?”
Sure felt like I’d angered the gods. “Unfortunately, I’m the only consultant on their new council. When Soren asked the Lords for help, they sent me.”
Seth winced. “Alright. I’ll bite. What’s the first step we should take in getting them out of the territory? Their wards have proven invincible. We can’t cross them, and our mages assure us they are not fae made.”
I leaned forward. “Yes. I’ve come up with a great plan.”
Soren scrubbed a hand over his face. “Moira.”
Seth’s eyes lit up. “Oh? What do we need to do?”
A vicious grin touched my lips. “First, Soren needs to apologize to them for being a man whore.”
Seth blinked once. Twice. A third time. His lips twitched just as realization struck. “Sonofabitch, Soren. You got involved with a witch?”
I shook my head and put on my best somber expression. “No. Witches. Plural. He hasn’t admitted to the exact number, but there are thirteen witches in the coven, so I’m sure Soren put on a heroic effort to get to know each of them.”
“Godsdammit, Moira,” Soren growled. “I did not sleep with an entire coven!”
Seth burst out laughing. “Half?”
The Second and I grinned at each other. I liked this guy. “You and I are going to have fun together.”
He winked. “Looking forward to working together on Soren’s Great Apology World Tour.”
“Fuckers,” Soren said as he stood up and flung his front door open. He disappeared inside, the door slamming behind him.
“Aww. Poor wittle Lord got his feelings hurt,” I said in a baby voice.
Seth chuckled. “Fun indeed, Moira.”