chapter Fourteen
Lucas was in the wide-open living room on the third floor of the penthouse pacing the length of the floor-to-ceiling windows along the far wall. The second I entered the room he vaulted over the couch and had me away from Desmond’s side and pulled into a dangerously tight hug.
“What happened?” he demanded.
I recounted the story of the Kleinfeld bloodbath so everyone in the room could hear it. I didn’t feel like reliving the details over and over again, so I wanted as many people to listen as I could. Morgan sat on the couch, expressionless, her arms crossed over her chest.
When my story was finished, she was the first to speak. “Sounds sloppy. Amateurish.”
“Sounds like someone has tried to kill me twice in a week in two places I’m never found. I hardly think that’s amateurish, Morgan. Sounds like someone is following me. Someone I haven’t noticed.”
“Then you’re not being very careful, are you?”
Lucas must have felt me tense in preparation to attack her because he hugged me to him again and spoke to Morgan from over my head. “Morgan, if you could be so kind, would you go to the store and get Secret a change of clothes, please?”
“Have Jackson do it,” she replied.
“I asked you to do it.”
She sneered but didn’t argue further. He let her get away with a lot, and it drove me nuts. Her bad attitude did nothing to make people respect his authority. But I guess it could be argued my antics had the same side effect.
I breathed in the musky smell of his chest and sighed. “She’s right,” I admitted begrudgingly. “I haven’t been as careful as I should have been after the car thing.”
“This isn’t your fault.”
“It’s mine,” Desmond said. “I’ve given her too much freedom. I should have guarded her better.”
From a chair beside the door, Dominick laughed. “Don’t kid yourself, Des. You’d have more luck guarding a rattlesnake in a moon bounce. If she didn’t want you to guard her, you wouldn’t have much say in the matter.”
I smiled at him, in spite of being compared to a pissed-off reptile. Dominick certainly had a way of phrasing an insult to make it sound almost complimentary.
“He’s right,” Lucas added, ruffling my hair. “I think we can all admit Secret is a bit stubborn when it comes to her personal protection.”
Desmond looked relieved when he realized no one blamed him for not guarding my body as voraciously as he could have. I was stubborn. Probably too stubborn. But between pack restrictions and the laws of the Tribunal, I liked to hold on to the illusion of my freedom whenever I could.
Tonight, that illusion had almost cost some innocent people their lives.
Not to mention costing Lucas over a hundred grand in dress damages.
“Not anymore,” I said. “I know I’m a pain in the ass about these things, but I’m also not an idiot. Someone wants me dead, and they obviously mean business about it. Until we can find them, I’m not putting anyone else at risk because of me.”
“You won’t have to,” Lucas said.
“What do you mean?”
“I received a call a few hours ago. From Callum.”
Callum McQueen, Werewolf King of the South and my uncle. “What did he want?”
“To send his congratulations.” Lucas was leaving something out, I could tell from the hesitation in his voice.
“And?”
Desmond and Lucas exchanged uneasy glances, as if I wouldn’t notice when I was standing between them. “Sit down for a second,” Lucas suggested. In honor of the agreement I’d made to be less resistant, I sat, but I was still waiting for my men to give me a better explanation.
“It’s been a long time since there was a royal marriage,” Desmond began.
“Decades,” Lucas agreed, nodding with what Desmond was saying.
“Whoop-dee-do,” I said. “Is he hoping for an invite?”
The wolves looked nervous, and Lucas said, “In a manner of speaking.”
“Guys…not to be impatient or anything, but I am sitting here in a twelve-thousand-dollar dress that is itchier than being wrapped in sandpaper, someone just tried to kill me, and I don’t have a lot of steam left to follow the bouncing ball of this ridiculous buildup. Pull off the Band-Aid. Please.”
Lucas sat in front of me on the big leather ottoman and took my hand in his. “Callum is claiming you, as a princess of the Southern pack line, are his wolf. He is insisting if I, as King, want to marry you, I need to go to Louisiana and make an official request of your hand from him in person. I must make an appeal for you in front of him and the lead members of his pack.”
“You what? Like hell you do.”
“He’s using a very old pack law. It is usually overlooked, but he’s making a point of requiring it, and according to the laws of our people, I must respect his wishes and comply with the request.”
“This is bullshit.”
“It’s…inconvenient, sure. But we have no choice in the matter. Protocol dictates—”
“Lucas, open your eyes.”
He frowned and released my hands then stood abruptly. “We have no choice. Either we go to Louisiana, or I start a war. And I will not start a war.”
“It’s a trap. Don’t you get that?”
“Secret, you don’t understand.” He sounded tired and irritated. I had that effect on him.
“Then help me understand.”
“I have considered Callum is baiting me. I know it’s the most logical reason for him to use such an outdated excuse to lure us south. In spite of your opinion of my leadership skills, I’m not a fool.”
“I never—”
He cut me off with the wave of a hand. “He can’t openly attack me, and he certainly won’t do it in his kingdom. What he’s hoping is that we will slip up when we get there. He’s counting on us to be the ones to make the mistake.”
I sat back, the lace of the gown making my underarms itch. “You mean he’s counting on me to be the one to make a mistake.”
Again he and Desmond exchanged loaded glances before Lucas said, “Most likely, yes.”
“And you can’t go without me because he’s using our marriage as the bait.”
“Right.”
“So what you’re saying is, we’re going to Louisiana to meet the man who has made your life a living hell for months, the man who drove his own mother to flee the country for fear over my safety, and you want me to smile and nod and curtsy. Be the pretty little princess everyone expects me to be.”
He paused. “I don’t think anyone expects you to curtsy.”
I called Nolan from Desmond’s car. Due to the threat against me I wasn’t allowed to go anywhere unattended, and Desmond was being especially vigilant in that. No one, me more than anyone, blamed him for my recent brushes with death, but it was apparent he blamed himself.
Morgan, as per instruction from Lucas, had purchased me new clothes, but she had enjoyed the task a bit too much. The jeans she’d selected were so long I had to cuff them twice, and the powder-pink hoodie I wore over a blue My Little Pony T-shirt had cute fuzzy bear ears attached to it.
At least my black Converse sneakers were my own. But the whole ensemble made me look about as menacing as a twelve-year-old girl at a Justin Bieber concert.
Nolan picked up on the second ring. “’Allo?”
“Pack a bag,” I told him.
“For what?”
“You’re moving temporarily.” I explained the circumstances. Since I wasn’t sure who was after me, those close to me might be in danger as well. I couldn’t take Brigit with me on a werewolf field trip without giving Lucas a coronary, and since she wasn’t yet under the council’s protection I didn’t want her left vulnerable. Nolan might just be human, but Brigit meant something to him. Having the two of them together would ease my mind because I knew they’d look out for one another, and I wanted to be certain they were safe.
When I hung up, Desmond shook his head. “Only you would worry about the safety of a vampire at a time like this.”
I smiled innocently, not quite sure what to say to that. “Let’s go get my stuff, okay?”
“I’m taking you right to the airport. No stops. We can’t take the risk.”
I gaped at him, indicating my middle-school-themed ensemble. “I’m supposed to meet a king dressed like this?”
“I’ll make sure your stuff gets there. Brigit will know what you need. I’ll get her to put together a bag for you.”
“What do you mean? You’re coming with us.”
“No.” He frowned. “I have to stay behind and be responsible for the pack while Lucas is gone. That’s my duty. When Lucas is gone, I have to be here, it trumps all my other responsibilities. Even my job to protect you.” He reached over and gave my hand an apologetic squeeze. “Morgan, Dominick and Jackson will be with you.”
“Awesome.”
Minutes later we pulled into a parking lot behind JFK where a small Cessna with the Rain Industries emblem painted on the side was waiting for us. A pilot stood a safe distance away, smoking a cigarette, and Lucas—with Morgan at his side—was speaking animatedly into his cell phone. It sent a pang through my heart to see how much more right Morgan looked beside him with her chic bob and expensive, tailored blazer over her expensive, tailored jeans.
“Can I do this?” I asked, fingering one of the fuzzy ears on my hood.
Desmond took my hand, the one without the engagement ring, and kissed my knuckles.
“You’ll knock ’em dead.”
Knowing my luck, he’d be right.