Roman petted the staff. “He was just scared, that’s all.” He took a step toward me and lowered his voice. “Can I ask you a question?”
“Sure.”
We walked away a few feet, like it would make a difference with a bunch of shapeshifters. Roman leaned to me. “The gorgeous blonde, does she work with you?”
I glanced to where Andrea stood by the doors. “Andrea? Yes.”
“Oh, that’s a pretty name,” Roman said.
“Bad idea,” I told him.
“Why? Married?”
“No. An ex-boyfriend. A very dangerous, very jealous ex-boyfriend.”
Roman grinned. “Married is a problem. Dangerous, no problem.”
Over Roman’s shoulder I could see Curran. He stood absolutely still, his gaze fixed on the back of Roman’s neck.
Houston, we have a problem.
“Step away from me,” I said quietly.
“Sorry?” Roman leaned closer.
Jim was saying something. Curran started toward us in that unhurried lion gait that usually signaled he was a hair from exploding into violence.
“Step away.”
Roman took two steps back, just in time to move out of Curran’s path. The Beast Lord passed by him and deliberately stepped between the volhv and me. I touched his cheek, running my fingers over the stubble. He took my hand into his. A quiet growl reverberated in his throat. Roman decided he had someplace to be and he really needed to get there as soon as possible.
“Too much excitement, Your Majesty?” I asked.
“He was standing too close.”
“He was asking about Andrea.”
“Too close. I didn’t like it.” Curran wrapped his arm around my shoulders and started walking, steering me away from the group. His Possessive Majesty in all of his glory. “This writ of kinship, what the hell is that? Does it make you allied with them?”
And he changed the subject, too. “No. I’ve only run across it a couple of times before. It’s a document that states that I acknowledge that my mother is my mother and that my mother was born to such-and-such family. The witches are big on family record keeping.”
“Will she take it to Roland?” Curran asked.
“It’s not in her best interests. She hates him.”
“So what’s the point of it?”
“Your guess is as good as mine.”
“I don’t like it,” he said.
“You’ve been saying that a lot lately.”
He dipped his head, his gray eyes looking into mine. “Are you going to take them up on it?”
“Yes. Nothing has changed. Julie is still dying.”
“Then do it soon,” Curran said.
“Why?”
He pointed at the road. A caravan of black SUVs slithered its way up the highway. Thin emaciated shapes dashed along the shoulder of the road, their gait odd and jerky.
“The People are here,” Curran said.