Her magic boiled just under her skin. Her eyes blazed. Didn’t like that, did you?
“Do it,” he dared. “Breach the contract. Give me an excuse for free rein.”
Elara’s hands curled into fists. Her cheeks flushed. She was so mad.
God, sex right now would be amazing. He would throw her on the bed and she would scream and kick and lash him with her magic. It would be fucking hot.
“I hate you,” she ground out.
“Right back at you, darling.” Hugh kissed the air.
Her face jerked. An ethereal growl rolled through the room, an echo of a distant snarl. Elara spun and within her he almost saw something else, hidden within silvery translucent veils of magic. She swept out of the room. The door slammed behind her, shaking the heavy wooden doorway.
Twice in one night. He’d have to replace the door if this continued.
Hugh poured himself another cup of water. For a few seconds, while she’d been in the room screaming at him, he’d felt alive. He lost it again and he could already feel the void drawing closer, but he’d tasted freedom in those fleeting moments and he wanted more.
Elara paced in her room. Traces of her magic slipped out of her, trailing her body. The gentle glow of custom fey lanterns bathed the room in a soothing buttery-yellow glow, but her temper needed a hell of a lot more than some ambient light to soothe itself.
That asshole.
That fucking bastard.
When she’d insisted on the joint decision provision, she was thinking of limiting his reach. At the time, it seemed like a perfectly reasonable choice.
Elara closed her eyes and whispered, projecting her voice. “Savannah.”
The echo of her power flew through the castle, finding its target. Savannah was on her way.
Elara wanted to march back into Hugh’s bedroom and crush him with her power until he groveled. To wipe that smug grin off his face.
She stopped and took a deep breath. Her magic swirled out and Hugh stood in her room, exactly as she remembered him, a perfect copy of the man, just slightly transparent when she looked at a fey lantern through him.
She circled him, examining the broad powerful shoulders, the sculpted arms, the flat stomach, the tree trunk legs… Built to crush all opposition. The man emanated a predatory confidence. If he said he would kill something, it would die. She was sure of it now.
A trail of faint scars marked his chest, no more than light lines across his left pectoral, over the heart, ribs, and side. She’d felt him heal his people. He had to be able to heal himself, or he would have a lot more scars.
What sort of damage was severe enough to resist his healing?
Food for thought.
Shapeshifters sometimes radiated a predatory power too. Theirs came from the natural sleekness of their lines, from the way they held themselves, ready to burst into action, never one hundred percent comfortable in either of their skins, always expecting an attack. Hugh had a different flavor. The shapeshifters were born into their power; he achieved his. His body was trained and honed, and the arrogance came from experience.
She looked into his blue eyes. There was something else there, in the eyes. A bone-deep weariness as if something gnawed on him, and no matter what happened, life hadn’t fully reached him. She’d seen that same look in him when he carved the mercenary apart. There was no anger, no satisfaction. Just methodical precision. He’d decided it had to be done, so he did it.
It would be so much easier if he was an idiot, but no. D’Ambray was sharp and manipulative. She couldn’t trust a single word coming out of his mouth. He would pretend to be a man’s best friend, then stab him in the back and keep moving. He said one thing, did another, and thought only he knew what. She had no idea where he actually stood on anything.
And yet they clashed against each other like fire and ice. He hadn’t bothered to manipulate her. Why? Did he think she wasn’t worth the effort?
No answers hid in his eyes. Elara took a step back and looked at him again.
“Nice specimen,” Savannah said from the doorway.
“He is.”
“Vanessa certainly thinks so.”
“Vanessa likes attaching herself to dangerous men.” Elara shrugged.
“Tell me you’re watching them.”
“I know every whisper that passes between them. What do you think of him?”
“Brutal. Efficient. Trouble. To be watched. Take your pick.” The older woman swept into the room. The light of the fey lantern brought out the rich red undertone to her skin. Normally a green wrap hid her curly hair, but right now it was down, floating about her head like a storm cloud. Power emanated from Savannah, vibrant and strong. So strong.
“What do you need?” the head witch asked.
“The palisade,” Elara said.
“Conrad told me.”
“Do we still buy supplies from that trader, Austin Dillard?”
“He comes around.”
“Next time he comes around, someone might mention that there is a palisade near the Old Market in need of supplies, except we haven’t heard from them in a bit.”
“Someone will mention it. Do you want a divination?”
Elara shook her head. “Conrad didn’t get inside to take anything to anchor the vision, and I’m not sending anyone to retrieve anything. Whatever took those people could come back. Besides, they would leave the signatures of their magic and their scent at the scene, and I don’t want to chance it. I just need d’Ambray to see reason.”
She stared at Hugh some more.
“We can always poison him, you know,” Savannah said.
“Hugh?”
“Mhm. Something quick and sweet. He’ll fall asleep and never wake up. Won’t even know what hit him.”
Elara grimaced. “We can’t. We need his army.”
“Men.”
“Yes. Can’t live with them, can’t kill them.” Elara crossed her arms.
“What’s upsetting you?” Savannah asked.
“He makes me angry, Savannah. Raging angry.”
“Has it been calling to you?”
“It always calls to me.” Elara sighed.
“Do you worry you’ll manifest?”
“I worry he may push me too far.”
“Have you thought about going the smarter route?” Savannah asked. “When you offer men opposition, they take it as a challenge. Sometimes a softer approach is better. A bit of flattery here and there, an appeal to his pride, a moment of helplessness. You know.”
Of course Elara knew. She’d done it before when she’d had to and she was good at it. “This one is too… aware. Besides, if I could bring myself to do it, I would’ve already done it. He opens his mouth and I want to kill him. I’ve actually had fantasies of ripping his head off, Savannah.”
The older witch looked at her for a long moment.
“What?”
“Don’t do it in front of his Dogs.”
“Hopefully, I won’t do it at all. If things get too bad, I’ll divorce him.”
“Better sooner than later. People aren’t marbles. You can’t keep them separate by the color of the uniform they wear. The longer his people stay with us, the more ties we forge.”
“The harder it will be to purge the Dogs from us. I know.”
“What do you want done about Vanessa?” Savannah asked.
“Nothing. I’ve handled it. Her choices are her own.”
“Betrayal should be punished, Elara.”
“What would I punish her for, Savannah? Bad judgement? Trust me, he’s punishment enough.”
Savannah nodded and left the room.
Elara raised her hand and touched Hugh’s chest, tracing the line of hard muscle under the skin with her fingers. The projection rippled as if liquid.
It was too bad… If it was anyone but him…
She laughed quietly at the absurdity of it and dismissed the construct with a wave of her fingers.
6