39. Behave Yerself #2
I don’t have wolf hearing, and Rowan must keep the volume on his phone purposefully low as a security protocol, because I can’t hear what’s being said and I’m right beside him. But whatever information the Admiral just gave over has Rowan stiffening.
“Understood. Threat level downgraded but not removed. The General is still considered at risk.”
I tilt my head in confusion. No. What? That’s not possible.
Janus was identified as being the threat to the Romulan Bloodline and Senora Tiempo took him and folded him away.
We found the Luna del Lupo, and now I know that it’s a heritage mark, I understand how it works.
There should be no more threat against the General—Janus was the only one.
Rowan’s wolf flashes forward, turning his eyes bright gold in an instant. “That intel is correct, sir,” he spits out from between gritted teeth. “Yes, it was mission critical that the Package be given classified intel so we could accurately identify and neutralise the threat.”
His hand on mine tightens, and I hook my feet at the ankles behind his back to try and help soothe his wolf.
“Correct. The Package is responsible for their re-emergence.”
“Who?” I whisper.
Rowan shakes his head, and now it’s my turn to frown. It freezes on my face when his wolf pushes so far forward that his fangs drop with a low and menacing warning growl.
“Absolutely fuckin’ not happening. Sir. The Package will not be going anywhere near water nymphs. The Package will not have his memories altered. The Package is under my protection.”
Wait. What? But I’m the Package. The General’s Office want to remove my memories? Of what? Of the Luna del Lupo? They can’t—it’s a part of me.
Then of the mission? But if they do that, then they’ll steal my memories of Rowan, and he’s my mate. And I just got him—I don’t want to give him up. No, I absolutely refuse. No, no, no. I shake my head as tears build.
Rowan converts the call to speaker mode and discards it to the counter beside me while the Admiral’s Italian-accented threats fill our kitchen. Claws extended on both hands as he drags me closer by the knees and then cradles my head securely between them.
In a low voice, he whispers, “Look at me, Milo.”
I do, but his amber-gold eyes swim behind my tears.
“Good, breathe. Can ye find my heartbeat through our bond? Find it and breathe with it. Yer under my protection, okay? As the Package, yes, and now as my mate. Ye’ve done nothing wrong. There’s no crime. Yer safe. We’re safe.”
“Ranger,” comes the Admiral’s voice. “Repeat what you just said.”
His eyes never leave my face. My hands never leave his chest.
Thump, thump, thump.
“I said,” Rowan growls. “That the mission objective was a success. We found the Luna del Lupo, as ye asked us to. And in doing so, we uncovered a threat to the entire Romulan Bloodline. Did the General inform ye that he knew about that already? Did ye both know it before ye sent us out on this Operation? The enchantment’s only purpose is to guard against the effects of Janus’s magic.
And he’s being securely held by the god of Time. ”
The Admiral clears his throat awkwardly, and I whip my head toward the phone. He did know.
“Repeat what else you just said. Is there someone else listening to this call?”
“Aye. The Package is. My mate is. And I’ll repeat what else I just said in case ye missed that too. He’s not going anywhere near anything that’ll alter his memories. Have I made myself clear enough, Admiral?”
Something in the confident way he speaks, like he knows that’s going to be the outcome, helps me settle. I exhale and relax into his hold. He nods at me, then kisses my forehead.
“That complicates things, Ranger. I expected better from you. He’s still a civilian, and you’re now in breach of handing over classified intel. But I can agree the enchantment is no longer necessary in light of the culprit’s capture.”
“Maybe it’ll be of interest to ye to learn that he’s a Fidelis witch.
Ask the General about them… would be wise not to piss off a second member of that Family Line.
He’s also friends with the god of Time. So, Admiral, I suggest you stop thinking of Magpie as a civilian, but as a Dog.
He’s an asset. One ye should be thanking for completing this mission, and then recruiting. ”
Rowan doesn’t wait for an answer. He ends the call with a clawed stab of his phone screen, then focuses all his attention on me.
“I’m sorry ye had to hear that, Pup.” Those same sharp claws tenderly swipe over my cheeks. “I need ye to know that’s pretty standard MO for the General’s Office, and I’d never have let them anywhere near ye.”
I scowl. But only because I don’t have the words to formulate all the things whizzing around in my brain. In the end, I settle on, “You hung up on him.”
Rowan laughs, and it’s a hearty, wholesome sound. “Aye, because the prick threatened my mate. To my face. I’m giving him some time to reflect on that.”
His hands stroke through my hair, carding the longer strands away from my face. The more he stays close, touches me, the more I settle. He isn’t leaving me. I’m not being abandoned. He’s choosing me—even above his own military structure and commanding officers.
The pots of neeps and tatties bubble over and hiss on contact with the stove, yet still Rowan doesn’t leave me. Not even for food.
“Ye know what this is, don’t ye?” he asks, as more water bubbles and hisses.
“This is General Romulus shitting himself, because now that Time is back, and with what Janus did to Sarah and the Lost Colony being public knowledge, what he did to Remus is going to be exposed. It’s a matter of time. He’s afraid, Pup.”
My lips part to make an “O” shape. Makes sense. “That’s why you said I was friends with Senora Tiempo. To make me less of a Target. Clever.”
“It’s also the truth. Yer untouchable, Milo. The sooner they realise that and work with ye the better. Ye hold all the power here.”
The pots bubble over again, and I nod. I’m okay. He smiles, gives me another lingering kiss, exhales, and then turns down the heat. “Normally, I like to do this with haggis, but clearly that was a stretch for Guardian to source. Ye okay with pork steaks?”
“Haggis? Isn’t that the—” But I don’t get to finish my question and learn if that is the foodstuff I fear it is, because Rowan’s phone vibrates against the counter beside me. I stare at it like I can hex it just by thinking about it.
“Ranger,” my mate answers abruptly.
“Ranger…” begins the Admiral, his tone entirely different than it was just a few minutes prior.
I stick my tongue out at the phone, and Rowan smirks before stepping back between my legs and placing a comforting hand on my thigh.
“I owe your new mate an apology. I hadn’t briefed myself thoroughly before I called you, and I wasn’t aware he is such a formidable and powerful warlock.”
I scoff.
“Milo Tobbit, you’ve hidden yourself well.
Your ancestral name is Milus, means warrior, especially one who operates with strength and valour.
And of the Fidelis Family Line, too—faith and loyalty.
An exceptional combination that would indeed determine you to have the qualities we look for in a Dog of War. ”
Rowan laughs, and I press my fingers over his lips to shush him. This is now highly entertaining, and I want to hear what else the Admiral might come out with. I swing my feet where they hang.
“It would also appear that your connections with the Office of Time are indeed valuable to a longer term relationship as we navigate this new era. The department of Transitions has a new head in Ms Anna Perenna, as well as a new PA. A witch by the name of Ms Sarah Blackwood. As a whole, the department have openly stated they will only deal with you moving forward.”
Rowan kisses my fingertips. “Safe,” he whispers.
“Therefore,” continues Admiral Guerrieri. “In light of Guardian’s recent departure, the General’s Office are delighted to invite you to complete a formal assessment to join the Dogs of War under the leadership of your mate, Lieutenant Colonel Rowan Rangecroft.”
“Told ye,” my mate says smugly.
“Ranger, congratulations on your mating. Our Office grants you both two weeks leave to consolidate your bond before you need to report to General Headquarters.”
“Are we done now, Admiral? Because with all due respect to the chain of command, we completed the mission, as I said, and I have other priorities right now.”
“Yes, Ranger, of course. Congratulations again, and we’ll see you in two weeks.”
Rowan ends the call.
“I don’t like him,” I pout.
Rowan’s lupine features reduce, and soft hands with blunt nails brush over my mate mark. “No one does, Pup. So ye’ll fit in just fine.”
“So… I’m a Dog now?”
“Ye always were a Dog, Milo. Now ye just get a shiny new badge that proves it.”
Smiling wide at the idea of being a Dog, part of a pack—of a family—I tip my head back and howl. Loudly.