The Enchanted: Council of Seven Shifter Romance Collection

by Juniper Hart

  Landon scowled at the demon and shook his dark head of hair quickly, emerald eyes flashing with annoyance.

  “Of course not,” he snapped. “But isn’t the Council for supporting one another?”

  “I guess we’re just not entirely sure what you’re asking,” Theo replied wryly. Landon sighed and looked at the werebear. He wasn’t sure what he was asking, either.

  “Never mind.” He waved his hand dismissively, but he could feel Laurel watching him, even as he pretended to turn his attention back to the paperwork before him.

  “There’s the matter of the ball,” Lane announced. There was a collective groan throughout the hall. Landon was grateful for the change of topic. They were meeting in the art museum in Boise, a central point, that evening, but Landon was antsy to be on his way. Talking about the annual Enchanted Charity Ball was not up his alley under normal circumstances.

  “Can’t we forego it this year?” Raven asked hopefully.

  “Every year you say that,” Henry laughed. “And the answer is always the same. We need the money for community resources.”

  “Why don’t you just admit that you like dressing up, Henry?” Laurel grunted. “It’s got nothing to do with the money.”

  “Can we not squabble about this? What’s the plan?” Landon interjected with annoyance. “I don’t want to be here for days.”

  “Lane? It’s your first year in charge of this,” Raven said, turning her attention back toward the newest member of the Council. “Do you need help?”

  “I… I’m not sure,” Lane replied, glancing at Henry.

  “We’ve got this covered,” the vampire chuckled. “I’ve been through enough of these to see it through.”

  “Well, if you need help…” Raven offered, but even Landon could hear the emptiness in her words. No one wanted to do the ball, the novelty of the galas worn off eons earlier. Still, it was one of the traditions which had been around since the beginning of the Enchanted, and it did assist many who needed it.

  “We’ll be fine,” Henry insisted. “Tell Drake not to get his panties in a knot.”

  Raven smirked slightly at the mention of her mate and shook her raven strands. “Believe it or not, he’s keener on this party than I am. He loves getting all dolled up.”

  “Okay, so, are we done here?” Landon asked impatiently. “I have a big day tomorrow, and—”

  “Yes, I think we’re done,” Alec declared, nodding at the rest of the Seven. “We’re adjourned until next month.” He slammed the gavel onto the table, and everyone moved to disperse. Before Landon could escape, though, Laurel cornered him.

  “What is wrong with you?” she demanded. “You’re acting like a sketch bag.”

  “What? Nothing,” he mumbled. “Everything’s fine.”

  “Really? Because I don’t think you heard anything that happened tonight.”

  “How is that different than any other night?”

  Laurel cocked her head to the side and studied his face closely. “Why are you asking about the Elliot Bay Pack really?”

  “It doesn’t matter,” Landon answered quickly. “I had a run in with a couple of them a few weeks ago, and they’ve been on my mind.”

  Laurel’s mocha skin gleamed in the moonlight, and he could read the interest in her inky eyes. “Why do I feel like there’s more to the story than that?”

  “I can’t tell you why you feel anything you do,” Landon shot back. “But I’m out of here. Is Jas meeting you?”

  Laurel shook her head. “Not tonight. Do you want to take me for a drink?”

  “Another time, okay? I really do have a lot of work to catch up on.”

  Her plump mouth parted, and Landon realized how lame it must have sounded to her ears. She’d never known him to pass up a drink for anything, let alone under the guise of work.

  “Another time,” he said again, offering her a quick smile. Impulsively, he leaned forward and gave her a kiss on the cheek, causing her to start in shock.

  “What the hell has gotten into you?” Laurel demanded. “You’re acting weird.”

  “Just tired,” he lied, spinning away before Laurel could bombard him with more questions that he couldn’t possibly answer. The truth was, he didn’t know what was wrong with him. It seemed impossible that he was acting like a fool because he was constantly thinking about Wren Archer, but that was what it felt like.

  That’s ridiculous, Landon thought. You don’t know anything about her except that she comes from a long line of bad news. That’s probably what’s appealing about her. She’s the closest thing to a nemesis that you have.

  He reasoned that was exactly the issue, that he was smitten with the forbidden attraction between them. All he knew was that he wanted to get home to Seattle and see her again.

  Landon found himself at The Quarry the following night, despite his resolve to stay away. To his chagrin, Wren was off. Her friend was there, however, and Landon found himself watching her with renewed interest.

  “Can I get you something, Mr. Burke?” she asked.

  “What’s your name?”

  “Christiana. But everyone calls me Chris.”

  He nodded impassively, sipping his drink leisurely as she waited for him to speak again. Suddenly, though, Landon didn’t know what to say. He wanted to ask her everything she knew about Wren, but he realized how creepy it would sound if he started to bombard her with questions.

  “Where’s Wren tonight?” He cringed at the bold question, and Christiana’s face twisted into a look of suspicion.

  “Why?”

  “I’m just making conversation,” he said defensively. Christiana’s eyes narrowed as though she suspected there was more to his inquiry. “Never mind,” Landon sighed, wishing he’d left as soon as he realized Wren wasn’t working. He didn’t know what he was doing there in the first place.

  “She’s not like her family,” Christiana told him suddenly. “I was trying to tell you that the other day.”

  Landon didn’t respond, but an unfamiliar flash of guilt touched his gut. She had tried to tell him that, and he hadn’t listened. Of course her friend would be on her side.

  “She’s worked really hard to separate herself from both her family and the pack, but it’s not as easy as it looks.” Christiana abruptly stopped speaking, as though she thought her words had no effect on him, but she was wrong; Landon was absorbing everything he was being told.

  “When will she be back?” he asked, struggling to keep his casual tone, but he wondered if his interest was shining through. Chris shrugged, perhaps wishing she hadn’t said as much as she had, and Landon knew then that if he wanted to get in good with Wren, he’d need to win over her friend, too. He leaned forward, casting her a half-smile.

  “Are you going to the Enchanted gala?” he asked, and Christiana looked at him dubiously, her eyes flashing.

  “Are you serious?” she demanded with disgust. “Does it look like I can afford five grand for a ticket?” Landon was filled with humiliation. Of course they couldn’t afford to go to the ball. What was he thinking?

  “I happen to have an in on the Council,” he told her jestingly, but Christiana didn’t smile. If anything, her frown deepened.

  “Why would I want to go?” she shot back. “Everyone knows the gala is just a show for all you rich bastards to flash your money around. It doesn’t help the orphans or underprivileged.”

  Landon grew defensive. “That’s not true,” he shot back. “Ninety percent of the profits go to the year’s charity.”

  Christiana snorted. “If you say so.”

  A patron signaled her from the far end of the bar, and she excused herself, but Landon barely noticed, his mind racing as she moved.

  Was that what the lower classes thought? That the Council didn’t watch out for them with those events? That they hold those affairs to stroke their own egos? The Council’s original vision had been to unify, not separate.

  What happened over the last thousand years since the Counci
l was formed? Landon wondered. Once, we weren’t all that different, and suddenly we’re on opposite ends of the spectrum.

  Again, he was struck at how little he’d paid attention to what was going on with that which didn’t concern him directly.

  I can’t be on the Council if I don’t protect all the Lycans, and all Lycans can’t be protected if they don’t have a voice in what’s going on.

  He could hardly believe he was thinking it, but Landon had a different idea about the charity gala, one he wasn’t sure the other members would like. Idly, he considered that perhaps he was not the only one out of the loop with his people. The dragons and werebears certainly claimed the same tensions that Landon had experienced in his packs. Surely they would all want to show solidarity, not cause internal conflict.

  Who cares what they say, anyway? he thought grimly. Since when has anyone else’s opinion ever mattered to me?

  But as he rose to leave the bar, he wondered if he was changing the game because it was the right thing to do or because he was trying to impress a woman. The idea was ludicrous.

  He was Landon Burke, after all. He didn’t need to impress anyone… right?

  7

  When the invitation came in the mail a week later, Wren stared at it uncomprehendingly.

  “What is that?” Christiana asked, strolling into the kitchen and snatching a banana out of the fruit bowl.

  “An invitation… to the Enchanted gala.”

  “What?” she choked, hurrying toward Wren. She snatched the paper from Wren’s hand and gaped at it as she read. “Seriously? Seriously, that jackass is too much,” Christiana snapped. “He’s doing this to get in your pants, you know.”

  “What are you going on about?” Wren asked, reaching back for the invite and looking it over without understanding it. Sure, she’d heard of the annual ball, but it was nothing that had ever concerned her, let alone something that she and Christiana would ever be invited to. What had changed?

  “Landon Burke! He’s trying to impress you,” Christiana retorted, the irritation in her voice almost palpable. “He was at The Quarry last week trying to find out information about you, and he brought up the ball.”

  “He was asking about me?” Alarm coursed through Wren like a tidal wave. “Why? What did he say? What did you tell him?” Christiana looked away almost sheepishly. Wren had a bad feeling. “Chris, what happened? Why didn’t you say anything?”

  The tinier girl threw up her hands in exasperation. “Because I didn’t get through to him, anyway! I didn’t see the point in talking about it. Or at least, I didn’t think I’d gotten through to him. Apparently, I did.”

  “Speak in proper, coherent sentences,” Wren ordered. “Get through to him about what? What did you guys talk about?”

  “Nothing.”

  Wren scoffed. “Yeah, it sounds like nothing if I’m staring at an invitation to a five-thousand-dollar-a-plate party,” she replied sarcastically. “Did you force him to invite us?”

  “Force him?” Christiana echoed. “He’s Landon Burke. He’s the cockiest SOB in the world. You can’t force that guy to do anything. No, this was his own brilliant idea to impress you.”

  “How do you know he’s not trying to get in your pants?” Wren demanded. As she asked the question, she felt a pang of jealousy touching her gut, but she dismissed it instantly. What the hell do I care who Landon sleeps with? He’s got nothing to do with my life.

  “Trust me, Wren. He’s only interested in you.”

  Wren had a terrible feeling that whatever Landon’s interest in her was, it had nothing to do with romance. He’s fixating on my family, and it’s all my fault.

  It was the only reasonable explanation, after all. Landon couldn’t possibly have any other interest in someone like her. They didn’t run in the same circles, and the Council was notorious for ignoring the lower classes.

  Unless there’s some political gain. Now that Landon knows I’m an Archer, he’ll probably start pressuring me for information about my family and their illegal dealings.

  “What did you tell him?” Wren asked again. “Was he asking about my family?”

  Christiana didn’t answer immediately. Oh, crap.

  “I told him you had nothing to do with your family anymore,” she finally said, as though she realized that Landon could have other interests than bedding Wren. “I told him not to judge you so harshly.”

  “Dammit, Chris! Why are you talking about me to strangers at all? What’s wrong with you?”

  “I’m sorry, Wren!” Christiana cried. “I didn’t get the impression he was looking into the pack…” She trailed off, possibly losing herself in the memory of what had been said. “I don’t know,” she finished miserably. “I might have misread him.”

  Wren chewed on the insides of her cheeks to keep from yelling at her roommate. She knew it wasn’t Christiana’s fault, not really. She was more naïve in the ways of the world than Wren. She hadn’t grown up around a criminal enterprise and learned young that authority figures were the enemy. But Wren knew better.

  “So, are you going to go?” Christiana asked in a small voice. She looked wistfully at the invitation, and Wren grimaced.

  “Of course not!” she snapped. “Even if he wasn’t digging for information, what place do I have in an event like that? I’d stick out like a sore thumb. Everyone would be looking at me.”

  “I guess…”

  Wren’s dark eyes became slits. “Are you thinking about going?” she demanded dubiously, and Christiana shook her head.

  “Of course not! What would I even wear to something like that?” Her response came too quickly, and Wren groaned silently as she realized she had crushed her friend’s aspirations to go.

  “Chris,” she offered in a gentler tone. “It’s just a ploy to get information on my family.”

  “I know. I know!” Christiana couldn’t keep the defensiveness from her tone, and suddenly Wren was furious at Landon Burke for such an underhanded ploy.

  How dare he use his power and influence to get what he wants? Isn’t it bad enough that we’re poor and he’s rich? she thought. What is this crap? He has no right to use us, especially when Chris and I are just trying to escape all that.

  “Come on,” Wren told her. “Let’s go get some breakfast.”

  “I’m not hungry,” Christiana replied, turning toward her room. “I’m just going to lie down for a bit.”

  “Okay.” Regretfully, Wren watched her go, her jaw locking in frustration. She loathed to admit it, but she was just as disappointed as Christiana.

  It was a rare night when both women were off, and they decided to have a few friends over for Netflix and pizza.

  Santos and Pilar were a couple that Christiana had known from her hometown and who had recently moved to Seattle for work. He was a dragon, and she was a fairy, an unlikely duo who had opposing personalities. They weren’t Wren’s favorite beings, but she also knew that beggars couldn’t be choosers in her life. She could count on one hand how many friends she had. Wren preferred her privacy, however, while Christiana longed for a social life. Entertaining people now and again for Christiana’s sanity didn’t bother Wren that much.

  They had just hunkered down to argue about a movie choice when Pilar spoke up.

  “Did you guys get an invitation to the Enchanted ball?” she asked. The roommates looked at one another before whipping their heads toward her in shock.

  “You did, too?” Wren choked. Pilar nodded and grinned at her husband.

  “We’re moving up in society, huh, San?”

  “I don’t want to hang out with the Council all night,” Santos grumbled, his eyes fixed on the Netflix home screen, his face reflecting the same doubt that Wren was feeling.

  “Wren,” Christiana said quietly. “If it wasn’t just us…”

  “I’m not going,” Wren said flatly. “You can go if you’d like. I want no part of it.”

  Santos looked up, his blue eyes lightening as he realized he had
an ally in his thoughts.

  “Exactly. Who knows why they’re inviting us? It feels like a trap,” he agreed. “For ages, they’ve excluded us, and suddenly they’re opening the doors to everyone? It sounds fishy to me.”

  “You’re such a cynic, babe,” Pilar muttered, her good mood dissipating. “Why can’t you just accept that sometimes people see their error in their ways?”

  “We’re not going,” Santos said firmly. “And most of the lower classes agree. There’s something not right about how this got sprung upon us.”

  “We don’t have to decide now,” Pilar insisted, looking to Christiana for aid, but Christiana lowered her head. Wren felt a stab of guilt, realizing that she’d put her best friend in an awkward position.

  “It’s just a party,” Christiana muttered. “What’s the worst that can happen?”

  Wren could dredge up a thousand scenarios off the top of her head, each one worse than the last, but she wisely kept her mouth shut.

  “I’m going to make some popcorn,” she said instead, rising from her spot on the couch and moving toward the kitchen. She didn’t want to talk about the ball anymore. She didn’t want to think about Landon Burke or the Council. It only made her think about her brother and why he had been looking for her at Aragon.

  I don’t care how many of us peasants they invite to this thing—the reason isn’t altruistic, and I’m having no part of it. Her cell rang as she dropped a bag of popcorn into the microwave, and she eyed it warily. Oh, come on, not tonight.

  She’d worked six days straight, and she didn’t want to answer the call from The Quarry, but she knew she needed the hours and couldn’t ignore it.

  “Hello?” she sighed into the mouthpiece.

  “It’s Linda.” There was no greeting, no preamble, only the redhead’s clipped tone. Her attitude had not become any less chill since Wren had started at the bar, but she was getting used to it.

  “Hey,” Wren replied. “What’s up?”

  “We’re short-staffed. Can you come in until closing time? I tried to call Christiana, but she’s not answering her phone.”