“I’m pretty sure that boy could launch the nukes at CENTCOM if he felt like it. Send me the files through the encrypted drops, and I’ll talk to him.” Jackson tilts his head and eyes me carefully. “Oh, I get it! You’re gettinglaid. And it’s not just a fling-a-ling like in Europe, so you’re being all provincial about it. Tsk tsk, Jojo. I’m hurt.”
I sigh, stopping my inhalation of the fried food at the table to look at him seriously. “It’s...it’s… You know what happened with Trevor; you were there. This is the first real thing since then, and I’m not ready to open that wound and let it bleed today.”
“I’m not asking if you’re gonnawifeanyone, doll. I just want thelongstory, and I’m not going anywhere until I get it. Settle in kitties,” he says, looking at Jekyll. “Your mama’s gonna keep her ass in this chair until she spills the beans.”
Kali lets out a howl, and I press my thumbs into my temples. Just what I fucking needed today—traitorous companions and a gossip mongering lawyer.
I wonder if the boys are faring any better.
Seven Nation Army
My drugar is occupied for the rest of the evening.
The message from Thorn was enough to send her barreling towards the city with the animals, and his timing couldn’t have been better if I’d planned it. I know it shocked her when we all came up with excuses not to accompany her, but the glint in her bratty eyes was also triumphant. Jolene isn’t one to be caged—not that I’m trying to—and she was pleased as punch to go hunting clues on her own.
We have to monitor her progress, though, which is why the doc has been helping her set up the ‘war room’ in the garage. Re-locating it from her bolt hole in the basement means any of us can pop out there to check up on her sleuthing without having to take drastic measures to get in. When she moved the armory to the basement, I didn’t expect her installing biometrics for the storage area, and without the Irish car bomb along, we wouldn’t be able to keep tabs on her research.
Since the bloody councils both want updates on her progress once a week, I find it necessary to know what she’s discovered about Whistler’s Hollow. The smallest memory or flashback triggered by something in the mysterious box could awaken a part of her and once she shifts, breaking the magic bonding, her inner beasts will begin.
I should know.
My first merged near the end of high school. Bane helped me along—as is her job—but the transition from knowing that the world was solely human and regular animals to discovering the breadth of extranormal society is rough.
Learning that my parents aren’t my parents, I have a destiny that I cannot change, and the level of disappointment my adoptive parents felt when I seemed to scorn their ambitions for me facilitated several poor decisions. Tilly suffered because of my self-centered egotism back then, and I didn’t even understand how much until she strolled into town two months ago.
Boones don’t regret things, but if I did, her shame would be the one thing I’d carry that burden for.
Logically, I realize a teenage boy who had his entire world flipped upside down, filled with raging hormones and hellfire, could not have comprehended the consequences of his actions. However, every time I look at her when she thinks no one is watching and every small moment of self-doubt I feel through our bond floods my heart with guilt and shame. The founding children of this town broke that girl so effectively that she would never have returned if not for the background check snafu.
“Boone, are you ready to go or are you going to stand at the window with your bourbon and brood? If it’s the latter, let me know what lighting you’d prefer. I think we can post it onOnlyFansand make some dough.”
I whip around to glare at Prez, only to be greeted by the entire cadre outfitted to the nines for the trial. “Hamilton, if I were to let you, we could build you a new aviary without touching the first month’s fees. Nice leather, by the way.”
He smirks, adjusting the collar of the black leather jacket he’s wearing with low-slung jeans, a-line tank and combat boots. Given his species, he’s not likely to show up completely revealed; They use his kind for shifter care in all the enclaves and towns, but they’re also hunted by poachers because of their rarity. Revealing himself wasn’t a worry here until stalkers showed up looking for mydrugar—we have no idea what this person or people are capable of. “I dirty up good and you know it. Go ahead; admire my ass. It looks fantastic.”
I glare at his antics, turning to the unusually quiet Irish lass that watches over Tilly. “And you? Thought you were going to a party east o’ the sun and west o’ the moon?”
Saoirse shakes her bright red locks, making the fluffy mound of braids and ties and trinkets crowning her head tinkle. “Aye, doggy. I thought I’d find out if yer pet could give me a tour. I hear it’s almost comparable to our lands.”
Snorting, I sip my bourbon, studying her before I respond. Of course, she doesn’t mean England—that dreary rain-soaked castle her adoptive parents live in isn’t the true home of her people, either. It doesn’t matterwhichof her people she means, she’s not wrong that their lands would give Wolfie’s father’s kingdom a run for its money. As she squirms in the silence, I grin a little. She’s made it her own, but the aquamarine and cerulean garb under the shiny armor of her father’s side paired with the glinting knives and weapons of her mother’s make her look fierce.
She’ll need to be; we all will. Going against the will of the founding families over the incident last week will require us to appear loyal to the councils and the society, but also outraged at some of its favored townsfolk.
My gaze cuts to the hulking man and his two companions. Tharin and Julia aren’t hybrids; I scented their creatures from the moment I met them. They’re also dressed in the flowing garments and armor of their species. Zasha, however, matches Saoirse, but less stabby and more... regal.
Christ help me.
Children of royals and upper tier extranormals should help our case, but given half of them are dirty secrets and the other half’s relatives spend all of their time squabbling, it’s likely to be a hindrance rather than useful. Sometimes, I think it’s better when the Society has no records at all about birth heritage—like with Jolene and I. It means there are fewer worries about interference and less petty grievances that can be used against you.
Except that someone is clearly coming after our girl, and none of us can figure out who or why.
“Edgar, are we ready to go?”
I turn and my lips curl up as I walk to the counter in Tilly’s kitchen and sit my bourbon down. If only she were here to see this, she’d lose her goddamn mind. Mydrugarhasno ideawhat her pup looks like when he drops all the shields and glamours, and when she sees it, I have to be there. I’m no slouch in my dark blue Armani suit and Society silk tie, but Wolfie is… ethereal. Even the doc and the merry men shut up to stare as he walks in. “We are, pup. You clean up good.”
He ducks his head, making the waterfall of sparkling silver hair slide over his iridescent skin. I notice he’s kept his ears but is controlling the rest carefully so he can wear a stylish sharkskin suit rather than the garb his mother would expect. “I miss her, too, T,” he murmurs.
“C’mere, Lucy. You can ride with me in my car and the rest of these clowns can find their own way to the sanctuary. You look hot as hell, and I don’t get to see the sparkly bits very often,” Prez growls, crooking his finger.