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To Alex’s surprise, Sophia wasn’t lighting candles with her fire, or even more likely, running around the house with a torch in her hand and an evil grin illuminating her face. Like Heath, she was nowhere to be found.

  Now that his task was complete, he would find her.

  It wasn’t difficult.

  While she usually smelled like green tea and fresh, bitter orange, he’d gotten a whiff of Briony’s concoction for her skin. It contained honey, aloe, and apple cider vinegar among other herbs and oils.

  Once he caught onto that distinct scent, he hunted.

  Rather than rest in her bedroom, she’d taken the one he’d slept in for a century. It felt like another century since he was here, yet it felt completely normal to approach the door, as he’d done thousands of times before.

  Something—someone he couldn’t see pushed him back with such force that he hit the wall across from his room, breaking the wood of the picture frame containing a painting of the Quarter with a blanket of bright stars floating overhead.

  Wish appeared, and Alex’s plans to kill first, wonder who threatened Leila later melted away. The haint was no threat to her…despite the way Wish watched Alex with an expression that said he’d have no problem cutting his head from his body and feeding it to the local alligators.

  “I’m going to tie you up with your own intestines, and then make you watch them grow back,” Wish growled. His usually light brown eyes were black from what looked like spider webs covering the irises. He’d seen a lot from both warlocks and werewolves, but Alex had never seen anything like that.

  Creepy.

  The haint punched him again, causing his face to whip to the side and break the damned painting in another place. Today, Alex felt like Jesse from Breaking Bad—everyone was beating him up. The difference was, this time he deserved it.

  “I don’t blame you,” Alex said after he spat out a mouthful of blood. He refused to fight back. Hell, if someone else had treated Leila half as badly as he had, he would’ve made the punishment Wish was doling seem like a trip to the movies.

  “You think you understand.” Wish took the broken picture from the wall and tore it to pieces…over Alex’s head. It wouldn’t have hurt if it hadn’t been mounted on wood and metal. “You didn’t see her every day while she thought you were dead; something died in her because of your lies. You took life away from her, a woman with so much heart and talent, with so many options for ways to fulfill her life that she can’t decide what to do!

  “You crushed her spirit, and now you think I’m going to allow you back into her life, only to repeat your mistakes again?” Wish kicked Alex in the stomach. Bones broke; his breathing became labored.

  He was right about everything, of course. Alex was already ashamed of his actions. He had lied, and he’d forced everyone else who loved her to lie to her too. While he knew everyone in the pack disapproved of what he did, no one had called him out quite like this.

  Wish’s words made him want to bow his head like an embarrassed child. I messed up.

  “I will not let you ruin that poor girl’s life a second time.” With a look of pure contempt, Wish stalked away. The haint’s feet didn’t touch the floor—hadn’t during the entire exchange—and he rose the farther he went down the hall.

  Lifting his shirt, Alex wiped the blood from his lips and then inspected his side. By tomorrow, the bones should be almost completely knitted together, but Wish’s message was received all the same. I don’t deserve her.

  But Alex wasn’t sure he was a good enough man to let her go again.

  Earth, honey and apples hit his nose, and he looked up to meet Leila’s gaze through the crack in his bedroom door. How much had she seen? What had she heard? For a moment he wished her implants were turned off.

  She crooked a bandaged finger, and he couldn’t stop himself from heeding her unsaid command. He entered his old room, swallowing the bitter taste of regret, and tried not to focus on the way her white nightdress stuck to the potion she must have rubbed over her skin. It was as transparent as a tissue, and he could see she was healing rapidly. Now, there were no dark burns, but a pink flush that deepened the longer he watched her.

  How could he tear his gaze away? No parts of her small, pert breasts were hidden, and her legs were outlined perfectly, revealing muscles and a slight curve at her hip. Beautiful.

  Can’t touch.

  “He was wrong, you know,” Leila whispered. It was when she got in bed that Alex realized she’d built a wall of pillows down the middle of his old California king. “Not about you breaking my heart—you did—but about you repeating your mistakes.”

  Drawn to her soft voice, he lay down on the other side of the pillows.

  “How do you know?” he whispered.

  Her response was quiet, thoughtful. “I don’t. At least, not for sure.”

  They laid in silence for a long time, neither sleeping, each too aware of the other despite the barrier between them.

  “I’ll never hurt you again.”

  It was a promise to himself as much as Leila. He’d made so many mistakes, never looking back, but this was his kryptonite. Were he to break her heart again, he wouldn’t be able to live with himself.

  Chapter 14

  BRIONY DuBois stood with her hands on her ever-growing hips, widened her legs in the “power stance” Sebastian had mentioned to her more than once, and glared at the two ghosts blocking the bathroom exit. If it weren’t for the candles she’d lit and the woman’s low humming, she would have walked straight through them.

  The female hummed a song from a popular horror movie so precisely that it gave Briony chills. She knew she shouldn’t have let Sebastian convince her to watch that!

  “I don’t care that you’re dead; coming after a pregnant woman the fiftieth time she’s used the restroom today is not cool. Judging by Mary and Leila, you guys should have better manners than this.”

  They’d appeared the moment she finished washing her hands. She was used to ghosts—Briony could free them from their tethers to this world, allowing them to go on to their next, final resting place—but this was a first. They were the souls of their living selves, meaning normal social courtesies hadn’t remained in their bodies.

  “You’re lucky we’re using our manners,” Piritta Newman, Leila and Mary’s mother, said. Her smile was saccharine-sweet, masking anger just as fierce as any of Briony’s packmates’ on the full moon. “I’d have no trouble following you around like a fly you can’t get rid of, buzzing in your ear until you wish you’d done as we asked to begin with.”

  Oh no.

  Months ago, at Raphael and Mary’s wedding, Mr. and Mrs. Newman had approached her, begging her to force Alex and Leila to break up. They’d been watching Raphael in an attempt to understand the man about to marry their oldest daughter, when Raphael pored over Alex’s file for the clan prohibitum. Apparently it didn’t show Alex in the best light, because the couple panicked, fearing for Leila’s safety.

  Before Briony had a chance to investigate the matter, Alex left the pack and made them all promise to lie to Leila about what he was.

  Now that they were back together, she had no intention of ripping them apart…and she had a feeling that would royally piss off the angry ghosts floating in front of her.

  “Who’s in there?” The familiar zip of Sebastian whipping off his tie came from the bedroom, as did the thud of the heavy door closing. Metal clanged, the sound of him choosing a knife.

  “Mr. and Mrs. Newman,” Briony quickly called. “No danger, but stay decent until they leave.”

  “If we leave,” Mr. Newman snorted.

  Briony spread her hands, fully intending to speak, and it threw off her balance more than it should have. Carrying a child distributed weight strangely even as it made her crave the foods she’d never tried. Like fried chicken. How much would I judge myself if I got Willie Mae’s right now? Another idea blossomed. Maybe District Donuts…

 
Mr. Newman cleared his throat, but there was amusement in his ghostly eyes.

  “You’ll understand how we feel,” Piritta said, her expression softening. “Once your child is born, there’s nothing you won’t do to protect him.”

  Briony chose to ignore the fact that she hadn’t told them the gender of her baby. Most likely, they’d been haunting the firehouse for a while, either choosing not to show themselves or unable to do so.

  “Honestly,” Briony said, regathering her train of thoughts, “I think Alex views Leila similarly, like Raphael does Mary. They would do anything to keep those women from harm, including endure the worst kinds of physical agony.”

  Piritta snorted, but her husband cocked his head, able to see that Briony meant what she said very, very literally.

  “What did we miss?” he asked.

  Briony explained, taking care to tell them everything about what Alex had just endured because of the iron, Gris-Gris and the beating Wish had given him directly above hers and Sebastian’s room. As she spoke, her husband and mate calmly walked through the ghosts himself to place protective arms around her and their growing child.

  Because of the powers they shared as mates, he could see ghosts as well. At least now he wouldn’t think she was crazy, speaking to thin air like someone with voices in her head.

  Then again, she had a partially insane conduit/familiar who often provided many voices in her head.

  It was a good thing she was a witch because she had a feeling human Briony would’ve been committed.

  “We’ve allowed Alex back into our pack.” Sebastian tightened his arms slightly, like he could feel the goose bumps the air conditioning brought across her skin. “With mine and Briony’s child coming soon and everyone else’s mates, no one would have let that decision pass if we weren’t certain he’s not a threat.”

  “He’s a warlock,” Mr. Newman responded, deadpan. “That’s the very definition of threat.”

  Sebastian shook his head. “The Elders disagree. They think the only way to save werewolves, globally, is to place Alex on our side. If we don’t have him…”

  With a sigh, Briony said what her mate didn’t wish to. “If we don’t have Alex, there’s a high chance all creatures will die, including werewolves, banshees …you name it.”

  If ghosts could get any paler, these did.

  “Alex can support the pack without mating our Leila,” Piritta argued. She actually stomped her foot, earning herself a grin from her husband, who’d visibly relaxed.

  “It’s not up to us,” he said surprisingly calmly. He opened his mouth, closed it, changed his mind, and spoke, his smile still intact. “Tell Alex I said San Diego.” His wife whipped her head around to stare, her mouth falling open. Mr. Newman chuckled at her, but his gaze never left Briony. “He’ll know what I’m talking about.”

  “How?” Mrs. Newman raised her hands in a jerking motion that sent even more chilled air toward Briony.

  “I think I’ve seen some things I should tell you.” Mr. Newman took his wife’s hand.

  The other ghost calmed, but concern widened her eyes while determination, very much like what Briony had seen in both of her daughters, straightened her shoulders. “We’ll be here until we know our children are safe. I wish I could have stopped my brother, but by the time I knew what he was capable of it was too late.”

  She leaned in close to Briony, who shivered despite Sebastian’s warmth. “He’s a werewolf, you know?”

  With those whispered words, both Newman parents disappeared. From their lack of goodbyes, Briony guessed it wasn’t their doing. Excepting vampires and haints, the undead rarely had control over where they were or whom they interacted with for long.

  “Werewolf,” Briony murmured thoughtfully, her shoulders relaxing into her mate’s sculpted pecs. “That changes things.”

  Sebastian rubbed his cheek against her temple. “We would’ve known about it if a senator was a member of a Louisiana pack. He’s a lone wolf.”

  Having been a werewolf herself for almost five months, Briony had been taught that lone wolves weren’t an oh he’s just shy situation. Rather, they were a problem the Elders sought to fix. Statistically, lone werewolves, or weres without a pack, were responsible for over ninety percent of cases where a human was bitten and turned against his or her will. Put simply, they didn’t follow the rules because they weren’t told them. There was no one to keep them in line.

  When the Elders sent a soldier like Sophia, Heath, or his brother Vale after a lone wolf, they had two options: to die or join a pack. Usually, when the Elders became involved there were so many human casualties or turnings that their packs were limited to those for convicts, or clan prohibitums.

  Briony still couldn’t believe her pack used to be such a group. She smiled. Never had she witnessed a sweeter bunch of immortals.

  Well discounting that one time Heath stole all of Sebastian’s suits and button-downs—what he wore every day except when he worked out. He’d replaced them with T-shirts that had brightly animated people on them, some of whom had very disproportionate body parts, and most of which wore hats.

  Her man had been angry. So Briony felt obligated to take all of Heath’s clothes and replace them with princess costumes.

  Sebastian made sure that on each dress, there were holes from where the skirt began to the backs of the knees.

  “We have to tell them.” Mary, Leila, Raphael and Alex needed to know who they were dealing with.

  Heat left her back, and Briony felt herself growing cold again. The warmth was replaced by Sebastian’s palms, which lightly pushed her from the bathroom.

  “Get some rest; I can tell you’re exhausted.” With the link between them, born from their mating bond, she couldn’t hide much from Sebastian. He couldn’t keep anything from her either.

  I’ll go tell them, he said into her mind.

  The stubborn man left to complete the deed once he’d seen her comfortably tucked into bed. As he quietly closed the door to their room, she caught the tail end of one of his thoughts. Well, worries, was more accurate.

  Someday, she’d find a way to stop his worrying.

  —That vision can’t come true—

  She’d had two visions, quite possibly the only ones she’ll ever see. In the first, all creatures were dead. Every packmate’s body was found except Sebastian, who’d been dying when she saw him. That vision was one outcome.

  The other vision showed her and her mate safe with their healthy son. There were no threats hanging over them, and happiness filled her to the point that, even now, she wasn’t sure how one being could take it all.

  Being Sebastian, he fixated on her first vision. After what he’d told her about the warlocks’ map and their strange roles in it, she couldn’t blame him for being concerned. By having anything that tempted a warlock float, they were practically a homing beacon for mayhem.

  Personally, she was glad they knew what this Senator Murphy really was. At least warlocks were predictable in their Probability of Purposeful Homicide. That the man wasn’t simply an angry, highly resourceful human would change every plan they had for his elimination.

  They’d all have to watch their backs now.

  Because a werewolf was always more dangerous than a human.

  * * * *

  “Where is this man?” It took everything in Raphael not to toss the desktop computer against a wall.

  Senator Murphy’s whereabouts were clear up until about two weeks ago…and then nothing. He was a public figure. Why didn’t photographers stalk him like they did those humans from that television show Mary liked so much?

  The Bachelor, also known as How to Make Men Die Slowly and Painfully. Earlier, he’d seen pictures of humans carrying red roses on the cover of a magazine a woman was reading behind the counter at a restaurant.

  Paparazzi, make this easier for us!

  Didn’t the people of Louisiana have the right to know what their senator
was doing? Unfortunately, the man’s crimes would never make it to human court. Realistically, his limbs wouldn’t even go underground intact.

  Raphael would ensure as much.

  “We’ve searched the Baton Rouge and New Orleans newspapers,” Mary murmured quietly. She was squinting at the screen, which cast a strange light upon her beautiful face. At least an hour had passed since they began trying to track the senator electronically.

  It wasn’t working for them.

  Heavy footsteps drew closer. Raphael smelled Sebastian before he entered the security room where the pack held the their largest, fastest computers and kept track of anyone who threatened them. Thanks to their relatively new setup, he’d been able to give the police officers video footage of the humans who’d destroyed his and Mary’s home.

  The moment he’d seen his wife’s face once she witnessed the damage, he regretted not killing said humans. No one threatened his ülikena and lived.

  Thanks to the security video, those men wouldn’t be living freely for a long time, if ever. It would have to be enough.

  “He’s a werewolf.” Sebastian pointed at the screen, which depicted a well-groomed blond man who had the same hair as Mary and Leila. Him, a werewolf? Please.

  Then again, Sebastian stood before them wearing a perfectly ironed collared shirt, spotless brown leather shoes and an air that soothed humans rather than cause them to run in fear like Raphael usually did. The sole difference between him and the senator, appearance-wise, was Sebastian’s perpetually unkempt hair and the genuine warmth radiating from him.

  Rodney Murphy was anything but warm; that much was apparent from the photos Raphael and Mary had found. Even when he smiled, shaking someone’s hand or standing proudly before a newly opened building, it didn’t reach his ice-blue eyes.

  “How did you come across this information?” Raphael asked. He trusted Sebastian implicitly and didn’t doubt the truth of it…but how had he not found anything that would lead them in that direction? There was nothing out there that made the man seem more than human, to the extent of there being no articles with any mention of his banshee siblings. One even cited him to be an only child from Lafayette.