24. CHAPTER 24
CHAPTER 24
Grayson
A storm rolled in overnight, leaving Westvale shimmering beneath a pristine blanket of snow. Anson called to say the Gathering was postponed until tomorrow, since the snow caught some attendees in transit. Noa woke with her hand pressed against her lower abdomen. She tried to suppress her soft groan, but I helped her into a warm bath. I’d known her cycles had grown short and infrequent, but this one came on with a vengeance. I pressed my palm against the cramping, surged with gentle power.
“Gods…” She tipped her head back against the tub rim, her eyes fluttering closed. “Yes. Bottle that, please. For when you’re not around.”
“Happy to be of service.”
She lifted one eyelid to peek at me. “How many other women have you offered your services to over the years?”
“You’re the only one.”
“I have a bridge in Brooklyn.”
I smiled and confessed. “One or two. No one memorable.”
“Ouch.” Warmth softened her exasperation. “Talk about insignificant.”
I tightened my fingers around her thigh. “You are very significant.”
Her eyebrow flicked upward. “Extra points if you take me walking through Westvale.”
I drew back, gently sloshing water that lapped over the perfect rise of her breasts. “Why?”
“Because walking makes me feel better,” she said with a pout. “And we can’t spend the day with your hand on my stomach.”
“Technically, it’s lower than your stomach.”
“And the mess doesn’t bother you?”
“Everything about you is beautiful, miraculous.”
“Lovely words, darling dread lord, but I’m not changing my mind about talking to the nymphs. This is merely a delay.”
I held up a towel as she rose to her feet. “You’re not weakening?”
“Not even a smidge.”
“Define smidge.”
Her laugh overflowed with delight as she wrapped the towel and plucked the damp hair away from her shoulder. “I’m getting dressed.”
Since sweatpants weren’t appropriate for walking through Westvale, I did the same, donning my usual black and leaning against the kitchen counter until she was finally ready to leave. The plan was to find a café where it was warm and the coffee was the way she liked it. I wanted to feed her, coddle her until she felt better.
And I still hoped I’d win the argument.
We met Caerwen and Effa in the hall. While Noa explained the weather delay, I remained stoic. The nymphs agreed to pass the news on to Aine and Metis, although connecting to Metis meant going to the Claw and calling on Annora, which they were happy to do. I wondered if the nymphs had their own qualms about the meeting Noa planned. I’d witnessed Fee having a tizzy fit over lighting a stove. Nymph magic was equally unpredictable.
Especially with powerful queens like Metis and Aine, and if they had secrets that neither wanted revealed.
“We know you’re a dread lord,” the nymphs said when they agreed to Noa’s request, twisting up my insides. They were aware of what I’d do if things went wrong. They also knew she was a faille . Her bloodline led back to the queens like Amal, and a fate more complicated than she liked to pretend.
Another detail the nymphs understood as completely as I did had to do with Metis and Aine—queens who hadn’t reached their level of power because they were nice. They shared the same father, the vindictive ocean god no one mentioned out loud. And Noa was resolute, unafraid. She’d challenged Metis before when she wanted to find that fucking book her mother hid. Now it was answers she wanted.
She will leave, wolf… and you must let her go . The witch’s words swam through my mind, chilling the blood in my veins. If Noa was convinced that solving the mystery of the rune was the only way to fight Amal, she would not waver. She’d see it as having my back. And she would leave, fueled by the questions that held dangerous answers.
My chest ached. I shook it off, pressing my palm against the small of her back. I hadn’t slept much last night, when every time she moved, I’d wanted to scoop her up, drag her far away from here. “Where in Westvale did you want to go?”
“The Farmer’s Market.” She wore thick leggings and a thigh-length sweater, boots. “I saw jars of honey I’d like to try. But I’ll pass on the white liquor if you keep pouring the cognac.”
“Too early in the morning for alcohol,” I said, relieved to let her ramble.
“The proprietor would probably interest you,” she said casually. “He sees everything.”
“Spies and informants?”
“He might be a good source.” Her boots crunched in the snow. “Who you can trust to give you accurate information, who is likely to lie. Like having an extra pair of eyes in the Farmer’s Market.”
I helped her off a curb, across an icy patch. A wolf paused instead of rushing by, tipped his head to me, and then to her. And damn if my throat wasn’t twisting with pride for the woman she’d become… and dread for what was at stake.
Noa smiled, peering up at the closest surveillance camera; in Westvale, they were everywhere, part of the elaborate security system. “Now we’ve done it. A public display of alpha-ness. Anson will have fits again.”
I rubbed at her back. “I promised to be good. No blood in the streets.”
She swished her hips as she walked along the sidewalk, sidestepping the boy who shoveled snow outside a small clothing store. “I’ll tell him I was flirting.”
“You’ll tell him no such thing,” I growled. “A queen never apologizes.”
“I’m no queen.”
She was watching me with that secret glow in her eyes. I cupped her face, not bothering to be subtle. “Should I remind you of what I said last night?”
Her smile only widened. “I don’t remember queen being a word you groaned.”
I pivoted to pin her against a brick wall. Didn’t care that every patron in the café across the street had gathered around the windows to see what was happening. “We can go back right now. Settle this in bed, and I don’t fucking care how much of a mess we might make.”
She draped her arms over my shoulders, languidly played with the dark hair at my nape. “The runes I sent to Metis and Aine—I only sent copies, not pages ripped from the book. The witch’s reaction was bad enough.”
My spine stiffened. “What reaction?”
She sent the details through our mate bond, nuzzling my throat as if she was making something up to me instead of revealing how a crystal darkened and turned to ash.
You are telling me this now?
Her fingers smoothed against the collar of my shirt. You promised no blood in the street.
With Anson.
Honestly, I thought the witch would have told you.
Canines flashed. She batted her eyelashes.
“Teamwork,” I gritted, “means we share communications, plans, and we don’t keep secrets.”
“We are a team, and I’m not keeping secrets.” She was looking over my shoulder. “Lec Rus is coming this way.”
I turned, protecting her behind my back as the Alpha of Alpen charged through the snow, panting irrationally for a broody prick. I sighed. Ground my teeth because I doubted that I’d keep my promise of no blood. Not that I wouldn’t try . But the aggression on the Alpen’s face told me what was coming next.
He was a bull of a man, muscled shoulders, short neck, more brute than brains. I hadn’t talked to him since the last fucked up mess called a Gathering, and the one Anson planned wasn’t likely to be different. Maybe no dead witches and nymphs or attacking creatures. But I didn’t hold much hope when it came to shouting and throwing things. Wolves had tempers.
Noa’s hands slid up and down my back; her touch shot through me with an arrowed heat that almost had me turning back to her and letting Lec Rus kiss my ass. Instead, I reached around and pinched her hip through the bulky sweater. She let out a little squeak, slapped her palms against my shoulders, and hissed, “Move.”
“Not on your life, sweetheart.”
“You’re crushing me, you big ass.”
“You’ve enjoyed it before.”
Her fingers dug into my sides. She was spitting her favorite word for me through our mental connection. I laughed, and asked, If I move, can you behave yourself with him?
Weren’t you the one who wanted to see me rip his throat out?
Her tirade continued, but I recognized the smile hidden beneath. I’d do anything to keep her smiling. Keep her above the dirt and violence and blood. Ten bucks I can take him in less than thirty seconds, I challenged, mind-to-mind.
Twenty if there’s no obvious blood.
Done. I grinned and stepped aside. She joined me on the sidewalk, arms crossed, pulling the sweater tight against her breasts and not realizing it until I scowled.
Her answering smirk came with a few tugs that didn’t stop until the sweater’s neckline dipped low enough to reveal cleavage.
“Hello, Lec,” she drawled. “I was so hoping to hear your apology.”
Puzzlement twisted his mouth. “Apology for what?”
“Calling me a fucking faille the last time we met.”
Gods—this woman had no filter around alphas, although I was standing here, giving her an unfair advantage.
“You owe me for a witch cave,” the Alpen said.
“I didn’t kill them.”
“But you collapsed a very lucrative income stream for me.”
Her eyebrows lifted. “You were in on their scheme of tragic tales?”
“The witches paid a tribute to Mule’s Point, and we kept our hands off them and their business. We also profited from smuggler kickbacks and the feckless tourists who came to have their fortunes revealed. The one and only redeeming quality of the Gemini Witches,” he growled, “was that they were the real deal, and I don’t give a shit’s ass if their predictions affected you.”
“Not the way I heard it. In fact, I think you took their predictions so hard to heart that you came after me, and anyone close to me, including Leo. I haven’t forgotten about the men from Alpen showing up in the photos I took, chasing me out of Seattle. Inept goons sent by you. Or the dead wolves in Leo’s house. The fact he nearly died in that accident you orchestrated. Then there’s Levi—should I go on?”
The Alpen’s canines flashed. “You realize, I hope, that because he’s standing beside you, you aren’t actually safe?”
My growl rumbled low in my throat, but what the Alpen was saying was also entirely possible. I couldn’t guarantee her safety, no matter how hard I tried or where we were—a truth that ate into me.
Noa curled her fingers. She was going to syphon, and I closed my hand around hers. “We came to buy honey and find some coffee, so if you aren’t selling…”
“Fuck me to tomorrow,” Lec Rus sneered, a sick grin working its way across his mouth. “If I wasn’t seeing it, I’d never believe it.”
I swung around. Pushed Noa behind me.
“You need to say something, Rus?”
The Alpen gloated. “Bitch-whipped is what you are. Does your pack know?”
“Fuck off.”
“You mean nothing to the Alpen, probably not to the Carmag. Be careful, dread lord. You might face Amal’s army with no fighters at your back.”
My body was loose and ready. “Save it for the Gathering, Rus.”
But Noa was fuming. She reached around me, zapped the Alpen with a little bee sting of energy. Snow exploded at his feet. I dragged her toward the Farmer’s Market, blending in with the crowd in case the Mule wanted to take it further. At least I’d find a place for Noa to hide while I handled things.
“I’m sorry.” She was trembling.
Bedisa… he’s a dangerous enemy.
He’s an ass, and he called you bitch-whipped.
I leaned in and whispered, “A compliment.”
“Liar.”
“But now, no one will question why you’re not at the Gathering tomorrow.”
Shudders continued to run through her. I squeezed her hand, waiting until she squeezed back. Teamwork. We were getting good at it.