Page 75 of Court of Evil

“It seems you’ve forgotten how to knock,” I tease as I lean back in my seat.

She scoffs as she sits in the chair before me, propping her muddy boots on my desk. I eye them then her, and her smirk only grows. The others spread out across the room. A pink-haired female eyes me angrily, keeping a wary distance from everyone else.

“You have been busy,” I comment when she says nothing.

“I did as you asked. Now it’s time for you to keep your end of the bargain. Where is Black and my old team?” she demands.

“Angel,” I begin, and her eyes narrow. Suddenly, she’s around the desk, pressing a blade to my neck, and I arch a brow at her. If she expected to frighten me, she was very wrong. Instead, I feel respect . . . as well as something much more dangerous—desire.

Tate is the only person to ever stand up to me, as well as the only person skilled enough to be able to. No other has ever gotten this close. Some might say I let her, but they would be wrong. She is simply that fucking good.

“Do not fuck with me, Shamus,” she warns. “I want his location now or I’ll leave and never come back, and whatever fucked-up plans you have will die with him.”

I lean into the blade and let it cut my skin, drawing a drop of blood.

She watches it roll down my neck, and when it drips down, I catch it without her noticing and press it to a cut in the side of her trousers where her skin is exposed. My blood soaks into her skin like I needed—another added protection.

Some would say it’s a waste of energy, but I do not care.

I need Tate Havelock alive—no, it’s not a need. It’s a want.

I sense the monsters with her bristling, eyeing me like I’m a threat, all bar Ronan who simply watches while tossing fake popcorn into his mouth as he wiggles his eyebrows at me.

“I was simply going to tell you that it will not be as easy as you think.” I nod at the folder on my desk. “Read that.”

Removing her blade, she keeps her narrowed eyes on me before scooping up the folder and sitting on the desk, her legs spread on either side of mine as she flips through the information.

I see realisation hit her, and when she jerks her head up, she appears worried. “The pack they are going after . . . he will slaughter them. Innocents will die.”

“I know. I have tried to recall them and stop the hunters in that area, but they are ignoring commands. Black heard about it and dispatched himself without asking. It’s a small sector of hunters refusing directives and hunting for fun.”

Someone snorts, and I look at the man who made the noise. He seems angry and bitter, and I taste his power in the air. Warlock? “Most hunters trap and hunt our kinds for fun.”

“But not all,” I counter. “I am aware I’m fighting what seems to be a losing battle, but I will not give up. These hunters are acting of their own accord, warping our laws and rules.”

“We have to do something,” Tate begins.

“I am,” I assure her. “Do you think I would let him get away with this? I’ve been fighting this for a very long time, Tate, and I have been playing the long game. I’m giving you his location. I want you to stop him before it’s too late.”

She searches my eyes. “Why now?”

“It’s time,” I reply.

Her eyes narrow on me, distrust gleaming in her gaze. “What skin do you have in this game, Shamus? Why recruit me? Why place me with Black? Why make me collect a team? What are your plans?” she demands. I do not look away, but I feel the others watching me. She might trust them, but there are only five people in this world I trust—her and my brothers. I will not jeopardise everything I have built and worked for, not when we are so close.

“Leave us for a moment,” I tell the others in the room.

Nobody moves, however, not even Ronan, and then without looking, Tate raises her hand. “Leave. Ronan, show them to our room for now.”

They shuffle to the door, and then they are gone. It should make me angry that they ignored my commands in my house, but if anything, I am grateful because it means they are loyal to her, not the cause or me.

Perfect.

I wonder if she knows that if she commanded me in such a way, I would follow her as well.

Leaning back, I run my eyes across her. “Ask your questions, the ones you have wanted answers to.”

“You won’t answer,” she snaps, putting the folder down and sitting stiffly on my desk.

---