Chapter Six
“Idon’t know if it’s sweet or disturbing,” Ronan said, after I told him about Sexton’s outfit.
“Let me clear it up for you then. It’s disturbing.”
I dug into one of the protein bowls Ronan had picked up for lunch. Rice, beans, and carne asada topped with lettuce, salsa fresca, and sour cream. Fresh tortilla chips for a garnish.
The man was a saint. There was no other explanation for it.
“So, uh, why’d you go there?” he asked, trying—and failing—to sound casual.
“The whole thing with Bloody Mary,” I said, waving my fork around. “Gramps hates her. Called her an ‘inelegant bitch.’ Normally, I’d be offended by the gendered slur, but I must admit, it fits.”
“Gramps.” He shook his head and smiled. “Did he shed any light on her reaction to you?”
“Yes. Lots. I was overwhelmed by light. Surprised I didn’t get a sunburn.” I shoveled a bite of beans into my mouth and chewed angrily.
“Going to enlighten me?” Ronan waggled his brows.
“Smartass.” I swallowed the beans and took a drink of iced mint tea. “This morning, while I was putting on makeup, my, uh, dark side showed up in the mirror.”
“Dark side?”
“I think it has to do with my, uh, lineage.”
His smile disappeared. “I’m going to assume you aren’t talking about the Lennox witches.”
“No such luck.”
I gave him a rundown of the rest of the conversation in short, concise sentences, eager to move past it.
“Holy shit, that’s a lot to deal with,” was all he said.
“So, yeah, along with all the other stuff we’re dealing with, I found out that my dad was some sort of hell pirate and I’m either manifesting the same powers he had or losing my mind. Good times.”
Ronan stared at me for a beat as if absorbing my words. After a long moment, he said, “Hell Pirate is a killer name for a metal band.”
“Right?” I twirled my fork between my fingers and dug into my bowl again.
“Why didn’t you wake me up?” he asked.
I hadn’t even considered it. “I guess I’m used to handling stuff like this on my own. Not that I’ve ever handled anything like this, but you get my meaning.”
“This isn’t something you have to deal with alone.” He reached for my hand and gave it a quick squeeze.
“Thanks.” I wasn’t sure that was true, but the sentiment meant a lot. “So, did you sleep okay?”
Ronan popped a chip into his mouth. “Is this the official subject change?”
“Yep.”
“Understood.” He chewed, swallowed. “I slept okay. Better when you were beside me.”
When he said things like that, I felt all shiny inside. “Really?”
He smiled, popped another chip into his mouth.
“Heard anything from the wolves?”
At the mention of the pack, the creases around Ronan’s mouth and eyes deepened. He’d slept all morning, but suddenly he didn’t look rested at all. “Couple texts. A call.”
“Who called?”
“Trey Jefferson,” he said.
“Who?”
“The young wolf who accosted us in the park the day we visited Calvin. Loyal to Hartman. You cursed the kid, remember?”
I did remember, but not for that reason. It was the day Ronan had trusted me with the story of his life, including how his stepfather, Abel Williams, had been brutally murdered by wolf shifters and how it had changed him forever.
“I told you back then that I didn’t really curse him. I made him believe I did to ensure he kept his mouth shut.” I frowned. “Wait. If Trey’s one of Mason’s wolves, doesn’t his loyalty include Floyd by default? Why would you trust the spying little punk?”
“When our fearless leader kicked me to the curb, Trey had a change of heart. He's a good kid, and he's beginning to realize that being loyal to Floyd isn’t the same as being devoted to the pack.”
“Does this mean Mason is finally turning on Floyd? I’ve been waiting impatiently for this moment.”
Ronan shrugged. “I think we both know Hartman is a wildcard.”
The wildest of cards. “Well, I don’t trust the kid. He’s shifty.”
“You don’t have to trust him.” Ronan smiled to soften his words. “You just have to trust me.”
“And I do. So, did Trey have anything useful to say?”
“Couple things. Not much. He noted odd things happening within the pack. Some of Floyd’s closest allies have been congregating around Pallás Place, at Floyd’s house, and on the pack-running trails outside town—things like that.”
“Floyd’s alphas have always been squirrelly weirdos. Present company excluded, of course.”
Ronan’s phone buzzed in his pocket. He pulled it out and peered at the screen. Sighed.
“More trouble?” I asked.
“Nothing specific. Everyone’s been on edge since my father went underground.” The phone vibrated again. Ronan scowled at it. “Go ahead and eat. We’ll talk more after you’ve got some food in your stomach.”
I considered telling him about the black SUV I’d seen at Wicked and decided against it. He’d worry, and it might not have even been Mason or Floyd anyway.
We finished lunch. Ronan washed the dishes while I ducked into the bathroom to stare at my reflection. I pretended to fix my lipstick, but I knew what I was looking for, and it had nothing to do with cosmetics.
“You don’t have anything stuck in your teeth, if that’s what you’re worried about. Anymore. You washed down the piece of lettuce with a drink of tea.”
I yelped and jumped away from the sink. “Jeez Louise, don’t sneak up on me like that.”
The thing about shifters is they don’t make any noise if they don’t want to. It was startling, and Ronan sometimes did it without any consideration for the level of iced tea in my bladder.
“Why are you so on edge?” He slung the dish towel over his shoulder and relaxed against the door frame. “Wait a sec. What were you doing? Looking for Bloody Mary?”
“More like Bloody Betty,” I muttered. “Before Sexton chided me about the knee bending thing, he told me to expect more of that stuff while my earth magic figured out how to mesh with my—” Gods, I didn’t want to say demon magic, but that was what it was.
“Father’s magic,” Ronan filled in.
I smiled a little. “Yeah.”
He drew me into his arms. He smelled like spiced meat and dish soap, a weird combination, but it worked for him. I rested my head against his chest and blew out all the air in my lungs so I could take a fresh breath of Ronan.
“Mmm.” My muscles relaxed and my body melted into his. The comfort this man lent me nearly had me in tears. He met needs I didn’t even know I had.
“You okay?” he asked.
“Normally, this is where I’d say I’m fine.” I sniffed. “But we agreed not to lie about that anymore, so I’ll say that I’m coping. I think as long as you keep handing out hugs and good food, I’ll be okay.”
His laugh bounced my head off his chest. “Is that all you need, Lennox?”
I tipped my head back and gave him a saucy look. “Not nearly, Williams. But it’s a good start.”
I’d stopped calling him Pallás, his birth name, because he’d asked me to.
He went by Williams, his stepfather’s name, everywhere but Smokethorn.
There was a reason behind that, but the gist of it was that he’d only adopted his birth surname to ingratiate himself to Floyd and the pack.
He’d had revenge plans back then, but that was before he’d met his little sister.
Rory had changed his mind about a lot of things.
“How about you?” I asked. “What do you need?”
“You,” he said, and dropped a kiss on my lips. “I need to know the people I care about are okay. My wolf isn’t dealing well with my human side being separate from the pack. It feels like I’m being torn in half from the inside out.”
“How can we fix it?” I slung my arms around his waist. “Would checking in with your people help? I can make some phone calls, stop by the Desert Oasis senior apartments, or talk to allies outside the pack if you think it’ll help.”
He kissed me again, this time a little slower. “Thank you.”
“You’d do it for me,” I said. “Why don’t you call your sister’s security and make sure all is well?”
“I’d just be bothering her. They’d call if there was an issue.”
“Sure, sure. And is waiting for that call making your wolf feel better?” I let him kiss me again. “No? Well, duh. He needs to hear that she’s okay, not sit on his ass twiddling his furry toes while he waits to get a distress call.”
“Twiddling his furry toes?” He shook his head. Grinned. “Lennox, you say the nicest things in the meanest way. I swear, it’s as if the gods peered directly into my skull before crafting you in the image of my perfect woman.”
“I feel the same about you.” I kissed him one last time then shoved him toward the bathroom door. “My burner phone is charging on the dresser. Go call your sister.”
He strolled into the bedroom to make his call, and I went into the kitchen to dry and put away the lunch dishes. I’d just wiped down the table when there was a piercing whine followed by a loud crash. The whole house shook from the unseen impact.
I ran into the bedroom and found Ronan propped against the dresser in hybrid form, panting heavily.
“Are you okay?” My voice was rough with fear and panic. “What’s wrong?”
“Not me. One of my—the pack’s—wolves.” His jaw shifted from human to wolf and back again. “Hurt. Badly.”
“Who?”
He squeezed his eyes shut and unzipped his jeans, kicking them off. “Have to shift to find out.”
I’d seen him change into wolf form more than once, and I was always surprised at how fast he managed to do it. One second, he was three quarters human, the next an eight-foot wolf with yellow, red, gray, and black fur was shaking off the shredded remains of Ronan’s black cotton T-shirt.
He growled and head-butted my leg, urging me toward the door.
“All right. Let me grab my bag and the boys and we’ll go find your hurt wolf, okay?”
He grasped my hand with his teeth and pulled hard enough to get me to move but not to hurt. I booped his nose with my other hand, and he released me.
“I’m hurrying.” I snatched up his jeans, a fresh T-shirt, his running shoes and my bag then ran outside with the wolf on my heels. “Cecil, Fennel, we’ve got an emergency. Let’s go.”