Page 102 of The Blood Queen

Noa licked the wine from her lips. “Did it?”

“I don’t think so.”

“What now?”

I refilled her glass to have something normal to do with my hands. Kept my voice casual. “I learned that she’d stopped by the archive to meet you. I wanted to talk to you about it.”

“But you saw her first.”

I held Noa’s steady gaze until she turned to study the people crowding the snowy sidewalk. “I would have helped her cross the street, too,” my mate said.

“She put herself where I’d see her struggle.”

“She knows the man you are.” Another pause. “Is she upset that I’m here?”

“She’s upset that I’m here.”

“With me?”

“There’s no other place I want to be.”

Noa pushed aside the dinner plate. “We should go home. It will be dark soon.”

I paid the bill, helped her stand. We walked along the river for a distance, perhaps the same distance she’d covered, running from Ago and his hybrids. I tightened my hand against her back.

“Why were you at the Farmer’s Market?” I asked.

“I wanted to talk to the witch. Ask her about seidr magic.”

“You think she knows?”

“Don’t tell me you haven’t made the connection.” As Noa stepped gingerly through an icy patch, I held her arm, offering support. Relieved when she didn’t flinch away.

“I wanted to know about the rituals,” she continued as we cut across toward Anson’s compound. The apartment building came into view. Three stories, a beautiful sandstone building with a modern design and constant security. A doorman held open the glass entrance door and nodded as we passed through. Noa’s apartment was on the ground floor, one of the luxury suites with access to the Alpha’s Woods.

“If Amal remembers anything,” Noa said, “she might stumble onto the seidr traditions. The ritual. She’ll discover how to steal wolves.”

“Maybe Amal is completely oblivious,” I said, “and cutting off the alpha tattoos is nothing more than sickness.”

“Maybe we’re just talking too much,” Noa said as she opened her hand and revealed the effigy. “Why do you suppose the witch left this for me?”

“To frighten you.”

“Or to protect me in some way.”

She disappeared into her room and closed the door. Minutes later, the rush of the shower warned me we’d talk no more tonight. I found the guest bedroom. Most of my clothes—the few I’d brought, and those Fallon had delivered—were in the closet. I showered, laid naked on the bed, trying to sleep. But I hoped Noa would tap on my closed door and come inside.

Her door was still closed in the morning. I stood in the hall with my palm pressed against the wood, sensing her energy. She radiated both pain and determination. I wanted to reach her through our mental connection. The intimacy of speaking mind-to-mind was often easier for her when she was hurting. But the closed door meant she wasn’t ready to talk. I took a step back, turned away. Glad I had the Gathering to distract me. At least there, no one would question my foul mood.

Anson was in the middle of an argument when I arrived. Lec Rus, as usual, was being an ass. His belligerence was nothing new. But the urgency was edged with the concern stiffening his shoulders.

“Two settlements wiped out overnight.” Rus spoke to the men gathered around a wall map. Piercing the map’s surface were small red pins; each pin marked a creature sighting. The black pins marked battles. Even from a distance, the pin pattern was obvious: more pins clustered in Alpen territory this morning than had been there yesterday.

I grabbed a mug from the serving cart. Hoped the thermal jug meant the coffee would be warmer than tepid. It wasn’t but arriving late meant making do with the hospitality.

“Overrun with nothing left,” the Alpen continued. “High mountains with heavy snow. Means the winter isn’t slowing them down.”

“What defenses?” The question came from a Cariboo wolf—Jade Pike, the man who’d been on his knees. Beside him stood William Cashel, the fighter, and their elder, Donnelly.

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