Page 38 of The Gathering Storm

Chapter Ten

The Omega was unusually full by the time Will arrived at four on Tuesday afternoon, half a day after dragging himself away from Sigrid’s warm bed. He could’ve stayed, would’ve if he were more certain of her. It had been a great night, true, and she’d enjoyed the hell out of it. He’d made sure of that, after his first desperate rush to have her. She’d been well sated by the time he left and loose as a limp noodle.

He grinned as he took over from Eric at the bar, spelling the other man for a well earned break. She was supposed to come in tonight, and when she did, if he could sneak away for a dance with her, he would. That could be his break from work, holding the woman of his dreams close, touching her, bathing in her scent, kissing her.

His blood hummed underneath his skin. Oh, yeah. There’d definitely be kisses.

Will stayed on the floor after Eric returned, greeting new arrivals, directing them to the best places to find shelter and food, and mentally tallying each one against the supplies starting to pour in to the IECS’s storage, located deep within the Archives. He’d spent the morning overseeing shipments, unloading trucks, and stacking boxes, and should’ve been worn out, thanks to a lack of sleep and excess physical exertion.

He passed a freshly built stout off to a customer and tried hard not to grin. Oddly enough, excitement buzzed in his veins, fueling the work he had to get through before he could crash. Another long day tomorrow. More trucks coming in, more new faces, he’d bet, and another shift at The Omega, maybe capped by a daily dance with his woman.

If that was the routine he’d be following until whatever storm was coming their way passed, he didn’t mind one bit.

An hour before the supper crowd usually straggled in, his grandmother strolled into The Omega. Will passed off bartending duties to Eric and walked around the bar into the main portion of the room. Anya met him halfway and turned her face up for a kiss.

Will went one better and added a hug to his peck on her cheek, then eased back, his hands still cupping her shoulders. “What’s wrong, Amma?”

A mischievous grin lifted her expression. “Who says something’s wrong? Can’t I come visit my favorite grandson when I’m of a mind?”

“That would fly if you came in here more often.”

He slid an arm around her shoulders and squeezed, mindful of her fragility. She’d always been strong, a force to be reckoned with, and mortality sat well on her, but she was old in a way Sigrid was not, physically old, their great age notwithstanding. The perpetual youth granted by An’s curse was gone now, broken by her heart’s truest love, allowing Anya to age as mortals did, as he did.

He grimaced. That’s just what he needed right now, a reminder of one of the biggest hurdles standing between him and Sigrid.

Anya placed a cool hand over his. “I do need to talk to you, if you have time.”

He cut a side-eyed glance at her. “I knew something was wrong.”

“Subtlety must be passing me by in my old age.”

“Age doesn’t have anything to do with it,” he said mildly, and earned a reprimanding pat from her.

He took her to his office through the hustle and bustle of waitstaff and kitchen help preparing for the evening meal, closed the door behind them, and sat down on the sofa beside her. “So what brings a councilmember to my humble bar on a Tuesday evening?”

“I’m not here as a councilmember. I’m here as your grandmother and the head of your family.” Anya turned toward him on the couch and curled one leg under the other. “Chana Wolfbane visited me today.”

“Oh?”

“She wishes to court you.”

Will’s eyebrows shot up. “That’s the first I’ve heard of it.”

“She struck me as being…” Anya’s grin reappeared, wider now. “Old-fashioned. I gathered she expected me to make the decision, though she took it well when I said it was up to you.”

It hadn’t always been. At one time, a Son, especially a Son as well-connected as Will, would’ve had his entire life arranged for him from birth to death, often without his having a say in any part of it.

Was he ever glad to’ve been born in an era when such customs were no longer strictly followed.

“Is there a chance you’ll consider her suit?” Anya asked.

The previous night popped into his head. Dancing with Sigrid in her dining room, carrying her to her bed, making love to her again and again and again until they were both spent. Arousal swept through him, so swiftly his breath stalled. He rubbed a fingertip along his temple and forced himself to breathe, just in case his grandmother was still as sharp as she’d always been.

She stretched a hand toward him and brushed it across his knee. “There’s another?”

Well, damn. A Son couldn’t get away with anything around this bunch.

He considered the situation carefully, turned it around and around in his mind searching for the best response, and finally said, “There could be.”

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