Page 79 of Soulmates
They’re in the living room when I stalk out. “My kingdom for a decent lipstick.”
Trajan murmurs something that sounds suspiciously like “That’s my boy,” and I glare at him. Connor doesn’t say anything, but the heat in his gaze brings more color to my cheeks than any blush ever would.
Trajan’s dressed as an LA hit man, and the subtle brocade on the lapels of Connor’s deep burgundy jacket finds a middle ground between threatening and flamboyant. We pile into the Prius and head out into traffic. The commute gives me time to finalize my ideas. Yeah, I’m going to work this little dinner date for all I’m worth.
A lone wolf can’t call out another pack’s Enforcer, but a vampire can, especially one as old and powerful as Jacques.
“One thing,” I say, deciding it’d be better not to broadside Trajan and Connor with my plan in front of Jacques. “I’m going to ask for a favor.”
I’m in the backseat, and Connor looks over his shoulder at me. Trajan’s got his eyes on the road, but there’s a watchfulness to his silence.
“I’m going to challenge Uncle Brendan, make him face my wolf, but I’ll need your help.” Except for the hum of the tires on the road, the silence in the car is complete. “I’ll need Jacques’s help, too.”
Connor’s gone from watching me to staring at Trajan. After a moment, he clears his throat. “That’s a high-risk roll of the dice.”
“You’ve never seen my wolf, pookie. I can usebeurteilungagainst Brendan.”
Trajan hits the turn single, making a right at the corner of Jack in the Box and CVS.At least they haven’t said no.
“Seems like Jacques has some kind of relationship with Brendan already. Are you sure he’s the one you want to ask for help?”
Trajan sounds thoughtful, and I appreciate that he’s evaluating my idea rather than dismissing me out of hand.
“I think we can work this to our advantage,” Connor says. Trajan scoffs, but I hold out for what Connor says next.
“We need to see how deep the connection between Jacques and Brendan goes. If they really want to destabilize the supernatural world order, it’s unlikely Jacques will play along.”
“So if he says no, then we can assume he and my uncle have some nefarious goal in mind.”
“And if he says yes,” Connor says, “then either there’s no deep, hidden scheme, or—”
“Or your maker is a conniving asshole with beef jerky where his heart used to be.”
“Well, he is a vampire,” Trajan says through laughter, though his next comment sets me back a step.
“Your plan makes sense, David, but I gotta say I’m not crazy about this. Who’ll be your second? I mean, Connor and I will help, but neither of us can shift.”
Technically Connor can, but I let that go because I’m not sure how a horse would fare against a wolf. As relieved as I am that they’re onboard, Trajan’s raised a sticky point. I’m still parsing responses when he pulls into the restaurant’s parking lot. Once the Prius is stopped, he catches my eye in the rearview. “Would your sister do it?”
“Abby?” I open the car door, still caught in his gaze. “She would, but I’m not sure she should. The consequences to her if I lose would be more than I can ask of her.”Like death.
“But you’re not going to lose, right?” Connor’s got his shy smile on, the one that melts my heart every time I see it.
“No, I won’t lose.”
“Good, because I like you, and Trajan likes you, and I think the three of us are good together.”
Trajan glances at me. “What he said. I didn’t know I wanted this, but I do. I choose us.”
Blinking fast, I scuttle my butt out of the car. Connor used that smile to break down my defenses and went in for the kill, leaving the final blow for Trajan. I’m still sputtering when Connor takes hold of my arm. Together, we follow Trajan into the restaurant.
The place is old-school LA Mexican, with red clay tiles on the floor, pumpkin-colored walls covered with prints of the Virgin Mary and La Calavera Catrina, and those colorful cut-out fiesta banners encircling the ceiling. We follow a young woman whose personal brand is somewhere between punk and goth to a table near the back, where an older man sits by himself.
There’s a small bottle of tequila on the table and two snifters. He’s got one and the other is in front of an empty chair. Fortunately, the table is big enough for all of use, although there’s a pause before he invites us to take a seat.
Trajan introduces us, and still, Jacques doesn’t respond. His eyes are a shade of blue that makes me think of the center of an iceberg, deep and layered and horribly cold. His suit, though. The purplish color of the sky at dusk, and man, if being a vamp means you can afford bespoke suiting, sign me up.
“Good to see you again, Connor.” Jacques scoots his chair away from the table and stands, offering Connor his hand. If he’s at all nonplussed to see someone who used to be dead, it doesn’t show. They shake, and then he turns to me.
