Chapter 5
Chapter
Five
“You’re bringing a wagon?” I asked in disbelief.
Soren threw his hands in the air. “You told me to get flowers! How the hell was I supposed to bring them?”
I counted the vases. “Soren. There are…”
“Eight,” Seth said, one eyebrow rising.
“Eight,” I repeated flatly. “You slept with eight witches in the same coven.” I couldn’t even make it a question.
The proof was in the numerous, over-the-top bouquets Evie would hate.
Could you really say you were sorry with a wagon full of flowers meant for different women who lived together after your dick had been in most of them?
We were so screwed. Soren was definitely dying soon.
“Dude.” Seth shoved his hands through his hair. “I was joking about half the witches. I thought three at absolute most. And even then, I was judging you a little. But eight?” He blew out a long breath. “Fucking hell. You really are a man whore.”
Soren kicked the wagon’s tire, sending all the vases rattling. “Alright. That’s enough!” A ring of gold outlined his irises. “Look. I get it. I fucked up.”
I scratched my nose. “And sideways and missionary and—”
“MOIRA!”
Seth coughed to cover up his laugh.
I put my hands over my mouth so I would stop talking.
Honestly, if Soren died, he kinda deserved it.
Not even the gods would have sympathy for someone who’d literally fucked himself to death.
Witches were not known to be kind and benevolent.
I mean, sure, there were white witches. Magic was magic was magic, right?
The intent was in the spell caster. Humans, like many paranormals, were easily corruptible. If you threw riches or women or their heart’s desire at them, a lot would go to the dark side.
But when you had magic on your side? Why walk on the right side of the law when you could get everything you wanted with very little effort?
For whatever reason, Soren had fooled them all with his honeyed tongue and pretty eyes. Hell, he’d almost fooled me, but I couldn’t help feeling a little smug about escaping his clutches.
I would have been just another notch on his bedpost, and that, as much as I hated to admit, would have hurt me. As it was, I walked out of there that night feeling like my heart was breaking, even knowing I wasn’t in love with him.
“How long ago was this?” I asked.
Soren tilted his head up to the sky and squinted.
“Gods,” I muttered. “Are you really sorting through your trysts right now?”
“Two years ago, give or take a few months,” he finally said, ignoring my question.
“I bet they followed you here from New Orleans, which is good for you. Odds are good I wouldn’t have found them had you stayed in your old territory. Every inch of that place is saturated with magic. Even with my sensitive nose, they’d be ghosts.”
I put my hands on my hips and thought about our next steps. Knowing what I knew now, an apology seemed like a stupid plan. “How’d you figure out they were here?”
“By accident,” he admitted. “I was out exploring and stumbled upon the scent of magic. When I followed it back, I found them.”
“Do they have a house?”
Soren nodded.
“Hmm. Send me the location. I’ll send it to Evie so she can track down who it belongs to.”
Seth was still staring at the flowers in horror. “Knowing what we know now, I’m not sure you should deliver these.”
“Agreed.”
Soren’s eyes glowed. He was pissed. “Are you serious? Do you know how much these cost?”
“Yes, well, consider this a down payment for us saving your sorry ass,” I growled. “No one would expect eight witches, Soren. That’s the Cirque du Soleil of dick waving, dude. A lot of people haven’t even had eight partners!”
Seth and Soren’s attention snapped to me.
My cheeks heated. “If you ask, I will claw both of you.”
Seth held his hands up and looked away, but Soren’s eyes narrowed as if debating whether it’d be worth it.
My claws slid from the edges of my fingernails, sharp and lethal. Soren’s gaze drifted down to my hands, amusement twinkling in his eyes. “Keep your secrets, Moira.”
“Oh, I will,” I assured him, keeping my claws out a little while longer in case he wanted to keep testing me. Soren was not my Lord, nor did I owe him deference. My position afforded me the autonomy to make decisions that benefited the good of the whole, not the good of the Lords.
Being professional felt impossible when all I wanted to do was punch him in the face. We had a bad history together, and the last thing I wanted was to spend any more time with him than I had to.
Seth cleared his throat. “Hate to bring the party down, but are we doing anything about this tonight? If not…” He rubbed the back of his neck. “Wouldn’t mind hitting the town.”
“You got eight on the line?” I drawled.
Seth snorted. “Shit. Not a chance. No one in their right mind would keep two women dangling, much less eight.”
He didn’t have to look at Soren to let him know he was judging the hell out of him.
Soren sighed. “Moira? Up to you.”
“Yeah. Ditch the flowers.” I eyed what he was wearing. “Put on something a little less douchey.”
Seth turned to hide his grin. He had to be loving this. Few people could speak to their Lords like I did, and it was probably nice to hear Soren dressed down a bit for idiotic behavior.
The Lords, no matter how much they liked to pretend, were not omnipotent.
Soren frowned and glanced down at himself. “This is not douchey.”
I pointed to his pants. “Wool trousers that cost more than my earrings. Italian leather loafers.” I tilted my head and studied his pullover sweater. “Merino wool, if I had to guess, the undershirt a blend of silk and cashmere or cashmere and cotton. Can’t quite tell.”
I pointed to his wrist. “Thousand-dollar watch.” The ring he wore on his right hand. “At least 14k gold. Looks hand-hammered.” Then his belt. “Designer. Italian-made.”
At his astonished look, I shrugged. “I bet that whatever you have underneath all of that is just as expensive, correct?”
Soren swore and turned on his heel to stomp inside.
“Douchey?” Seth asked. He reached for the pitcher and poured himself another glass.
“He looks like the son of an Italian fashion magnate, and we’re in frigging Montana.”
Seth, on the other hand, looked like he belonged here. His uniform of the day was a pair of old, faded blue jeans, dusty boots, and a button-down denim shirt. No hat, but it wasn’t too cold today. “Old habits die hard.”
He slid a glance my way. “So, what’s your deal?”
“My deal?”
“Yeah. You and Soren. I know you two aren’t dating.”
“No,” I said slowly. “There is no deal. I’m here because I’m the only one available. Soren conveniently left out he was involved with all of the witches he’s trying to cast out, so that’s definitely going in the report. If we can solve this tonight, we can go home.”
“But something happened there.”
“You know something. I can tell.”
He lifted a powerful shoulder in a shrug. “We’ve all heard of you. Evie’s best friend. A vampire that’s not quite a vampire.”
“Don’t bullshit me. Soren said something.”
A slow smile curved his lips. “Said you were off limits.” He paused. “Are you?”
Amusement trickled through me. “How about we get through this bullshit first, alright?”
Soren stomped back out, looking a lot more acclimated to the place he lived in.
Seth chuckled. “Fair enough.”
I gave the Lord a once-over. Blue jeans, dark wash, and obviously new, leather boots—no dust. And another Merino pullover. Not perfect but better. Soren always looked yummy. There was just no getting around it. At least now he looked less boardroom and more upper-class country club.
“How far away are the witches?” I asked.
Soren threw his hands up. “You’re not going to say anything?”
“Fishing for compliments is unattractive,” I said primly.
Seth snickered.
Soren’s dark glare made my lips twitch. “Several miles. We’ll need an ATV.”
“Too much noise. Can we run it?”
Seth’s eyebrows flicked up. “Can you match us in speed?”
“Guess we’ll find out, won’t we?”
Soren checked his watch—this one more sedate with a leather band. “Sunset will be here in an hour or so. Should we go in daylight?”
“No. I’ll need a place in the shadows in case things go awry and I need to step in.”
Soren rolled his eyes. “I don’t need protection.”
“If you didn’t, you wouldn’t have sent your plea to the junior council.”
“Moira,” he growled.
“I’m here, and this is my show, so we’re doing it my way. Seth can go in with you and stand as your Second, but I plan to stay downwind. Never underestimate a witch, Soren. That’s how you end up dead.”
And I would know. A shiver rolled through me as best forgotten memories tried to surface. I kept my face blank and shoved them down. “Got any food in that house?”
Soren flicked his fingers at the door. “There’s a cold bag on the hook by the fridge. Pack what you think we’ll need.”
“I’ll help,” Seth said, starting to rise.
“No,” Soren said quickly. “I need you out here. Moira’s fine to go inside.”
Obviously, Soren wanted to talk about me, but I didn’t care. “Have fun, boys,” I said as I stood and went inside.
I peeked over my shoulder to see Soren stalking toward Seth, death in his eyes.
Another day. Another Lord drama.