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  “She said Senator Murphy wants both of us,” Mary interjected before Raphael could yell at his co-head soldiers. They were the seconds in the pack, set to take over as Alphas if something happened to Raphael and Mary. They never refrained from sparing Raphael any lip, something that usually ended quietly. Today it might just result in bloodshed.

  “If that’s true, then Leila might be right—we make it harder for them if we’re separated. At the very least, it’ll divide their men between us.”

  Raphael hit the wall so hard, the mounted television six feet to his left wobbled precariously. Sophia caught it before it fell to the ground, muttering something about avoiding Heath’s ire if they lost the latest South Park recording.

  “If you broke the TV, Sophia’s right—I would have beaten your ass.” Heath spared his mate a tender look, but his mouth remained a thin line. All of them knew the dangers warlocks posed after Briony had a vision that they’d successfully killed all creatures.

  With a snarl that raised the hair on even the back of Mary’s neck, Raphael bared his teeth. “He’s no longer one of us; he has no right to protect one of our own.” He met everyone’s gazes, clearing stating he wouldn’t budge on this issue.

  Mary chose not to argue with him in front of everyone, not because she was afraid of upsetting him, but because, beneath the growls, his heart was in the right place.

  He’d do anything for Leila, considering her his own sister. Remembering the terrified expression on his face when Alexandre called earlier took the edge off Mary’s rising temper.

  “Leila will stay with Heath, Sophia, and Wish while Mary, Cael, Aiyanna and I will remain here. Sebastian, you’ll go to your and Briony’s house with Gris-Gris until the threat has passed.”

  Everyone nodded solemnly. Sebastian drew Briony closer, pulling her back against his front. Underneath the layers of lace the witch-turned-werewolf wore, there was a noticeable curve to her belly. Soon, she wouldn’t be able to hide her pregnancy with anything except a glamour.

  While Mary and Leila’s security was important, no one was willing to put Briony and Sebastian’s unborn child at risk. Initially, Raphael had suggested sending them to Heath’s brother Vale’s pack in Asheville, but Briony had refused.

  “I think we need to be here,” she’d said serenely. “Besides, Gris-Gris can look out for us.”

  The conduits that inhabited what used to be Briony’s stuffed cat were extremely powerful and had saved the pack multiple times. Somehow, the almost-cat had become Briony’s familiar, a sidekick of sorts characterized by loyalty to its witch.

  “I respect your decision, O Alpha Ours,” Aiyanna smiled wryly, “but I’m going to point out what everyone else is thinking: she doesn’t want to hole up with Heath and Sophia. She wants to stay with Alex, who ruined Senator Murphy’s day today. Not us.”

  That Alex saved Leila carried a lot of weight with Mary, and it seemed to with the rest of the pack as well. Sebastian inclined his head to Aiyanna, and Briony lifted her lips in a small smile. Cael didn’t move, his face a mask, while Heath merely shrugged.

  Raphael flinched. To him, Leila was under his protection. That she was taken away in a moment of weakness—which happened fairly often, given batteries always die—was even worse. But the pack was too small for one of them to constantly accompany her. That, Raphael would also blame himself for.

  “If I’d been there, we wouldn’t be in this mess,” Raphael had said as soon as Leila ended their FaceTime call.

  “If you were there, you would’ve killed Zach Murphy before we learned the reasons he wanted Leila.” Mary had said it partially in jest, but she was also very serious. Raphael was a wonderful leader and fighter, but he had the tendency to kill first and put together the pieces later. Alex had always been more cunning, someone more likely to study his enemy before leaping into the fray.

  “Since the night he met her, Alex has looked out for Leila.” Raphael was pacing again, his dark eyes on the floor. “Remember how he noticed that asshole drug her at the Thump, the night we met?” He glanced at Heath, and then exchanged a look with Mary. Old anger set in the corners of his mouth and in the flare of his eyes.

  Mary had assumed Raphael had taken notice of Leila’s condition. She stared; this was the first she’d heard that Alex had watched out for her sister even then.

  “Alex was the reason I knew to come for Mary when she was hurt.” Raphael’s voice lowered, roughened by the memories of the gruesome second time they met. “None of that excuses what he did in December. The moment the warlocks freed him, he had a choice: to remain loyal to the pack, or give his loyalty to the warlocks. By choosing them, by threatening us if we didn’t lie to her, he’s given up his right to Leila. I don’t care how badly she wants to stay with Alex.” The walls shook with the force of his fury, and, only because Mary knew him so well, did she recognize the palpable hurt.

  This time, everyone in the room seemed to be on the same page as Raphael.

  “Leila is ours.”

  Everyone except me.

  *

  Once everyone had their orders and Mary was finally alone with her mate, she rounded on him, tipping her chin so she could look Raphael squarely in the eyes.

  He was an extraordinarily intimidating man…who would rather saw off his own arm before hurting her feelings. While he was as tough as immortal creatures came, she could hurt him just as easily as he could her.

  So she tread lightly.

  “Leila never stopped loving him. Don’t make her choose between us and Alex; you know she would’ve never done a thing like that to us when we were first mated.” Mary rubbed a hand over his rigid muscles, tracing the lines of his veins until she met his hand and entwined their fingers. “Leila didn’t have to be so accepting about my marriage to the Alpha of a werewolf pack. Her life has been difficult enough—we shouldn’t put this burden on her.”

  Raphael pulled her close, some of the tension in both of their bodies relaxing with the contact. She pressed her face pressed against the expanse of his chest and his chin rested on top of her head after he placed a quick kiss to her brow.

  “You’re right, ülikena. Both of you have had enough trouble for a lifetime. I don’t want to add to her worries.” He stroked her hair, and dim light from the sunset streaming into the room presented reassuring warmth. “The Elders think we stand no chance against the warlocks unless Alex rejoins the pack.”

  He pulled away so he could look into her face. Concern darkened the planes below his eyes, and the lines of worry that had appeared after becoming Alpha stood out in stark relief.

  Mary couldn’t remember a day when Raphael wasn’t agonizing over solving the latest catastrophe, whether it was warlocks trying to burn down their home or werewolves bent on killing one of them. Within the last year, each and every member of their pack had someone—or multiple someones—out for their very lives.

  It had taken everything the pack had to keep all of them alive, and a little bit more from Raphael, who was responsible for everyone.

  In short, he needed a vacation. Sure, he would never not be Alpha, but the poor man needed a couple of weeks where the worst thing that could happen to him, or anyone else, was a sunburn.

  “Do you agree with them?” Raphael hadn’t been pleased when he learned the Elders incarcerated everyone in the pack not for their crimes, but because they knew the warlocks would come for werewolves. By binding all of their powers for a century, or in some cases like Raphael’s and Heath’s, centuries, new abilities would emerge. These powers could stand up against the seemingly infinite danger warlocks presented.

  The New Orleans clan prohibitum had been groomed to fight the warlocks, no matter if they wanted to or not. As far as Mary knew, Raphael hadn’t made any agreements with the Elders regarding battles to come, and he hadn’t told the pack what they had done.

  Yet. She had a feeling he would have to break the news to their packmates very, very soon.

&
nbsp; “I do,” Raphael answered with a short nod, grimacing as if he didn’t like being in agreement with the Elders. She couldn’t blame them—what they did was unforgiveable, completely taking over five men’s lives as they had.

  “I don’t think we stand a chance without Alex on our side, even with the troops the Elders promised to relocate here.”

  She didn’t doubt they’d come through with that offer. Back in February, the Elders had done as they’d promised, sending soldiers from across the country to take out facets of an extremist vampire group called Pureblood. When the Elders reached out to the vampire leaders, most of whom detested Pureblood to begin with, vampires joined the raids, bringing those of their own kind to whatever justice system vampires used.

  A realization dawned on her. She thumped Raphael on the chest and smiled. “You’re betting Alex won’t let Leila choose between us either. When Heath and Sophia show up at Wish’s house to take her away—”

  “—he’ll have to fight them, which he won’t, or join us.” Raphael smiled, but there was no happiness in his eyes.

  “What if you’re wrong?” Mary didn’t doubt her husband, but no one could predict another, especially not when dealing with a very angry werewolf who also happened to be a significantly powerful warlock.

  Raphael closed his eyes. He was placing the safety of not only their pack, their family, but of all creatures in Alex’s unpredictable hands.

  “I can’t be wrong.”

  Chapter 6

  LEILA and Alex were driving on St. Charles Avenue when she got a text message from Wish.

  DO NOT COME TO MY HOUSE YET, he wrote in all capital letters. THE PACK IS LOOKING FOR YOU AND ALEX.

  As soon as we stop somewhere, I’ll tell you where we end up, she typed back. She hoped Wish’s home could be neutral ground, but apparently Raphael had a different idea.

  “We need to find somewhere else to go,” she said after reading Wish’s warning.

  Swerving quickly enough to earn more than one annoyed honk from nearby cars, Alex turned toward the river before they could go any farther uptown.

  It was novel, speaking with her voice and not her hands, even while it wasn’t. For a little less than four fifths of her life, she’d spoken. It was like riding a bicycle—the idea of doing it was scarier and more unfamiliar than the actual act.

  Even her voice itself seemed comfortable. To her admittedly altered hearing, she sounded as she always had, a relief when the deaf sometimes spoke with higher levels of nasality. Then again, many of those individuals didn’t have cochlear implants like Leila did.

  Feeling so comfortable couldn’t last. So much of her work with Birgitte had been to keep her from hurting Alex with her voice, and it was successful. Not once in their conversations did he cringe, get a headache, or bleed from her speech.

  But how would everyone else fare? She wasn’t sure if she was ready to risk someone else’s safety.

  “We’ll go to my place,” Alex said easily.

  She tensed, wariness crawling over her skin like insects. Had she been wrong to trust him? There was no way she intended to go from a kidnapping to a warlock float. Out of the frying pan and into the fire.

  Just like that, so much of the gains they’d developed in the last few hours disappeared. They were still a warlock and his ex…who very much didn’t approve of his being a warlock.

  “I’m not taking you to the float.” When he said not, there was a telling hitch in Alex’s voice. He didn’t face her when he spoke, but she could see enough of his profile to tell how much her reaction had stung him.

  Unconsciously, she took his hand. “I assumed you lived with them,” she said softly, regretfully.

  Did she have every reason to give him hell for what he’d put her through? Yes. Did it mean she could wrongfully judge the actions he made now? No.

  “I’m sorry I thought you’d put me in danger,” she said with a squeeze of her hand.

  The line of his mouth softened and he finally looked at her, allowing her to see the love brewing under the surface of his skin. “I’d never allow you anywhere near another warlock,” he said earnestly.

  She nodded. “Where do you live?”

  She’d always imagined his home, when he could have his own place, would be as gaudy as it was classy. There would be the most advanced video gaming systems on the market, a smooth wooden pool table in the same room as a stocked mini-bar, and a pool complete with a hot tub off to the side. There wouldn’t be any dust or dirt to be found, and the toilet seats would always be lowered. Tasteful art would grace white walls, including pieces painted by Mary.

  When he passed South Carrollton, stopping a few minutes later in front of one of the smallest shotgun homes she’d ever seen, she understood her expectations were way off. There would be no pool here, of the aquatic or table varieties.

  Although she had no problem with the new micro home trend, she hadn’t pegged Alex as the type. She also reasoned a micro home that needed to be condemned was as bad as a condemned regular home.

  Keeping her thoughts to herself, she carefully kept her expression neutral as he led her to the front door, Beau trailing behind them. Paint peeled back and hung in ribbons, and she was fairly certain that was a series of bullet holes just underneath the single cloudy window.

  Was he destitute? She couldn’t imagine Sebastian cutting off Alex’s bank accounts, if only because the pack didn’t need the extra money. Full Moon Brewery, the pack’s main source of income, was doing better than ever. They’d even been featured in half a dozen movies recently filmed in the city, and were distributing product worldwide.

  Maybe the float takes his money. Leila fought to keep him from seeing her rapidly brewing anger. If the inside of this house was anything like the outside, Alex’s living conditions were abhorrent.

  Was that a hole in the roof, covered in duct tape?

  A small smile playing at his mouth, Alex unlocked a series of no less than four dead bolts attached to the door—which seemed to be rotting, anyway—and swung it forward.

  He pushed her inside quickly, shutting the door right after the dog made it through, and she realized he didn’t want anyone on the street to see what he’d done. The outside was magic, a glamour that fooled even her.

  Because this was what she’d expected.

  “You could’ve warned me!” she exclaimed, scowling at him.

  “You should have seen your face,” Alex laughed, his eyebrows high. “Leila, you looked like you didn’t know whether to run away or kill someone…but you were smiling at the same time, making you the poster child for an asylum candidate.”

  Now she laughed, the last of the anger fleeing her with the movement of her shoulders. “I’m going to get you for this.” She tapped her forehead. “I’m remembering this, for when I get a chance to fool you.”

  Alex pulled her in for a quick, albeit almost suffocating, hug. “I’ve actually been dying to bring you here,” he said in an uncharacteristically muted voice. He looked down at her, and the genuinely happy smile was still there. “Let me show you around.”

  His house, it turned out, appeared to be much smaller than it was. The trick was, he explained, that he made the lot look impossibly tiny.

  “It keeps the float away. They take pride in showing what their power has earned them. I guarantee you, this is the last place they’d look for me.”

  After Beau’s things, including a large Courtly Check dog bed she hadn’t remembered seeing in the car or beach house, were brought in, Alex led her to his den. It had the PlayStation set to be released a year from this coming November humming next to the television, which was so large it took up almost the entire wall. She’d been right about the video games and his cleanliness…but wrong about a pool, or a bar.

  There was art on the walls, but prints of poetry hung too. The works of Yeats, Keats and Coleridge, all poets she’d studied and discussed with Alex what seemed like years ago, were all displaye
d at eye level, framed like the works of art that they were.

  A tear escaped her eye when she recognized a short Shakespeare sonnet on a side table, right next to a picture of her and Alex. It had been taken last Halloween, when they’d dressed up like Louise and Gene Belcher from Bob’s Burgers. In the picture, he was wearing her pink rabbit ears, and she was fighting to win them back.

  Moisture was filling his eyes too as he gently tugged her hand. “I have something else to show you.”

  He’d already let her see his bedroom, guest bedroom and bathroom—which made those at the firehouse seem paltry in comparison. The kitchen was open to the den he guided her from.

  What else was there?

  A small hallway to the right of the den offered a door with so many locks—she guessed it was the back door—and another with no lock at all. Wondering if this was where he kept the pool table he wanted, he took her inside a room he hadn’t dreamed of…but one she had.

  One wall was covered in mirrors with a polished wooden ballet barre placed the exact right height. The opposite wall was lined with bookshelves, each empty save for the smallest one, which was about half the size of the others and filled to the brim with title-less, leather-bound books.

  Beau curled up in the corner of the room opposite the books and watched them with his head on his paws and his ears pricked curiously.

  Leila had always wanted to be able to practice her dance better at home, just as she’d wished for a library she could fill with books she loved.

  Alex had furnished this room for her.

  “This is what I’ve wished for…” She trailed off, running her hands over the smooth barre. Leila didn’t say this was what she’d dreamed of during the years when she and Mary had shared a closet-sized studio in a part of town where hearing gunshots was as common as hearing the flapping wings of cockroaches mid-flight.

  But Alex knew. He took her hand, using his other arm to gesture to the discreetly-placed white speakers set in each corner of the space. “They have Bluetooth, so you can use whatever music’s on your phone to practice.” He nodded toward the bookshelves. “Put whatever you want there…but for your own safety, never touch the books on that last shelf.”