Before Dawn

by Olivia Hutchinson

  “No, you'll take the bed, and I'll sleep on the couch. I'm going to keep everything in the bedroom so if my parents or sister come in, which I'm sure they will at some point, it'll at least look like we're sleeping in the same bed.”

  “I gotcha.”

  Natalie went to the bedroom door and pushed it open. The bed was a queen size, covered with a charcoal and blue plaid quilt.

  “That’s my bedspread from when I was a teenager,” he said behind her.

  She smiled. “Your apartment here is very different from your home.”

  “I don't spend that much time here even when I am in town, and I didn't want to put that much money into it. Everything is either a hand-me-down from my parents or something I found at a thrift store.”

  “It’s a cute little place.” She stepped around him to leave the bedroom and opened the other door in the living room to find a narrow bathroom. There was a shower stall, pedestal sink, and a toilet, along with a washer and dryer combo. An empty laundry basket sat on the floor next to it.

  “I’m going to go get our bags,” she heard him say as she closed herself in the bathroom.

  “Okay.”

  The door shut in the living room and she heard him rolling her bag toward the bedroom door by the time she was washing her hands. Natalie splashed a little water on her face and looked at herself in the mirror.

  “You got this,” she told herself softly. “Don’t be a chicken shit.” With a deep breath, she patted her face dry with the hand towel and went back into the other room.

  “You okay?” Declan asked her when she went into the bedroom. He tossed his duffel bag on the bed.

  “I’m good.”

  If he heard her words of encouragement to herself, he didn’t comment on it. “Ready to go meet my family?”

  Natalie smoothed her tan knit sweater over the top of her jeans. “As ready as I’ll ever be.” She flashed him a smile, trying to at least appear more confident than she felt. Fake it till you make it.

  He stood at the end of the bed, a crooked smile on his face. The corners of his bright eyes crinkled with appreciation. “You look good, Natalie.”

  Her breath caught at the unexpected compliment. “Thank you.”

  When Natalie went toward the door, Declan followed behind her. She went down the steps and went to grab the doorknob to let them outside, but then hesitated. Declan stood behind her, waiting for her to open the door with an expectant look on his face, but she didn't. Instead, she turned around to face him, blocking his exit.

  “Hug me.”

  He appeared confused. “What?”

  “We're supposed to be dating, and I haven't been closer than maybe a foot away from you. I don't want the first time you put your arms around me to be in front of other people, and I make it awkward because I'm not expecting it. Let's get all the initial weirdness out of the way right now.”

  “You're right,” he said, reaching out for her and pulling her against his chest. She laid her head on him, wrapping her arms around his waist. When she went to pull back, he held on to her, his arms around her upper back and shoulders. “You don't smell like me, and I don't smell like you. Stay here a minute.”

  The heat from his body was radiating against her. “You're really hot.”

  “Thanks.” His chest shook slightly under her cheek.

  At that moment she was glad she was pressed against him and he couldn’t see her face because her cheeks were on fire. “No, I mean your body is really warm. You give off a lot of heat.”

  He chuckled. “I knew what you meant. I was giving you a hard time. My body temperature is a little higher than yours. It’s normal.”

  Natalie turned her face so she could look up at him, arms still fixed firmly around his waist. “There is nothing about this that’s normal.”

  He met her eyes. His voice was soft when he said, “Nat, we’re just a guy and a girl hugging in a stairwell. It doesn’t get much more normal than that.”

  “I like it when you call me Nat. It makes this feel more authentic and less like the giant lie that it is.”

  He released her then and cleared his throat. Natalie dropped her arms and wondered if she said something to cause his sudden shift in attitude. “Let's head over to the house. We still need to get over to the Council House in a little while, and I'm sure my mother is going to want to feed us.”

  Declan reached around her and opened the door. Natalie went outside first and thrust her hands into the pockets of her jeans. After he closed the door, Declan threw his arm around her shoulders and tugged her to his side.

  “Smile and relax.”

  She looked up at him, an exaggerated smile on her face, and wrapped her arm around his waist. “I am smiling. See?”

  He chuckled. “That’s better.”

  They walked the few hundred feet between the garage and the back door to the main house. Natalie could see movement just inside the window, making it clear they’d already been spotted. Sure enough, the back door flew open a moment later.

  A woman who was a few years younger than Natalie stood there wearing an old green band t-shirt and black sweat pants. Her rich chestnut hair was short and ended at her jawline, and big, innocent brown eyes – red-rimmed from either sleep or a recent cry – were looking from Declan to Natalie. "I didn't know you were bringing someone," she said, nodding toward Natalie. "Who is she?"

  Declan dropped his arm from Natalie’s shoulder. “I told mom when I talked to her this morning. This is Natalie. Nat, this is my sister Hannah.”

  A slight frown wrinkled the skin between Hannah’s brows as she stared at Natalie. “You’re not a wolf.”

  “Nope.” Natalie stopped in front of the woman since Hannah was blocking their way into the house.

  Hannah’s nose lifted slightly, her nostrils flaring. “What are you? Witch?”

  “Bingo.”

  “Oh, cool.” Hannah stepped back to allow them to enter the kitchen. The room was huge, complete with white marble countertop, stainless steel appliances, and everything that should be featured on an HGTV program about homes that Natalie would never be able to afford. “Dad's gonna flip when he finds out you brought a witch home with you.”

  “He’ll get over it,” Declan said.

  "Did you tell mom?" Declan shook his head, and Hannah's face lit up as if she were about to open her mountain of presents on Christmas morning. “Awesome! I'm so happy I'm not going to miss this.”

  The sound of heels clicking on expensive flooring was the only indication Natalie had of Declan’s mother’s approach. Hannah closed the kitchen door and waited, near giddy, for Paula Azarov to come into the room.

  Paula was everything Natalie expected from Declan’s description. She was a tall woman with graying dark blond hair tied up in a chignon and bright brown eyes that were identical to her daughter's. Her cheeks were pinched, and she was wearing a classy black pencil skirt and matching blazer with shining black pumps.

  She stopped in the doorway of the kitchen, her smile lighting up her face when she saw Declan. When she looked at Natalie, however, that smile faltered. “When you said you were bringing someone with you, I hadn’t expected this.” She gestured to Natalie’s sweater-clad form.

  Natalie took a step closer to Declan's side to get away from the scrutiny of his mother. His hand closed around hers as if realizing how uncomfortable she just became in about five seconds.

  “Don’t be rude,” he warned. “I told you I was bringing Natalie.”

  “Well with the way you made things sound it was as if you were bringing a female wolf with mating potential, not a witch throw-away. You’re just going to cause a stir if you go up to the Council House with her.”

  Ouch.

  “She’s not a throw-away,” Hannah interjected before Declan could even think about coming to her defense. His face was bright red, either from anger or embarrassment; but judging by the way he just clenched her hand, she would guess it was the former rather than the latter. “And who c
ares what those stuffy bastards think, anyway.”

  “Hannah, watch your mouth.” Hannah rolled her eyes as Paula turned her attention back to Declan. “You know what trouble this is going to cause.”

  "I don't see an issue," Declan stated. "Dad has a good relationship with the witches, and no written rule says I can't date one."

  “Your father’s business keeps us safe. You’re going to make it look as if we’re trying to form an alliance.”

  “We’re not mated, we’re dating.”

  “I’m sorry, Natalie,” Paula told her with no sympathy whatsoever on her face. “I’m sure you’re a very nice girl, but you must realize you don’t belong here.”

  “If I had any delusions before, you’ve pretty much taken care of those,” Natalie replied before she could help herself.

  “Just because they’re dating doesn’t mean that they’re going to mate. I wish you would learn to chill out!” Hannah yelled at her mother.

  “We’re not getting into this again either, Hannah. We’ve been through it already.”

  Natalie kept her mouth firmly closed at that point, watching the increasingly heated exchange between mother and daughter. Declan was quiet beside her, as if relieved the attention had been taken off him and directed toward his little sister with her outburst.

  “You ruin everything.”

  “I didn’t make that shifter leave you.”

  “Maybe not deliberately, but everything was going fine until you opened your big mouth at the Wellerby’s dinner party last week with your comment about not knowing why anyone would choose to dilute their ancestral line.”

  “That wouldn’t make him leave you.” Natalie wanted nothing more than to fade into the over-priced wallpaper behind her as soon as Paula uttered those words. Hannah’s face was bright red, her hands clenched at her sides.

  “You said that to his brother’s mate before looking straight at me. Do you really think she didn’t repeat what you said to Red?”

  “His name is Franklin, Hannah. Please, don't call him Red. I swear some of these nicknames you younger ones come up with are just ridiculous.”

  “Red Bowinger?” Declan asked then. “You’re dating Red Bowinger?”

  “‘Was’ being the key word there,” Hannah bit out.

  Hannah reached out and threw her arms around Natalie’s neck before she had the chance to react. Unsure, Natalie dropped Declan’s hand and gently wrapped her arms around Hannah to return the fierce embrace. Declan hadn’t been kidding when he said female werewolves could be touchy-feely. Natalie was having a hard time breathing, Hannah was squishing her so hard.

  “It's nice to meet you,” Hannah whispered. “I'm sorry about my fucked-up family, but I'm glad my brother is finally dating someone, even if you are a witch.”

  When Hannah released her, Natalie sucked in a deep breath and stood there, unable to figure out what to say to the girl. But she didn’t have much of a chance anyway, as Hannah gave her a half-hearted smile and all but fled the kitchen.

  “Well then,” Paula said as if she hadn’t just voiced her displeasure at having Natalie in her kitchen or having argued with her only daughter in front of a complete stranger. “Are you two hungry?”

  “I hope you didn’t take that personally,” Declan said, not looking at Natalie as they drove to the Council House after a quick lunch of steaming broccoli and cheese soup with crusty French bread. “My mother can be hard to take sometimes.”

  His mother's behavior had been expected, but it didn't stop the growing irritation he felt when she called Natalie a throw-away. The instinct to protect her, even from his mother, had been nearly overwhelming. If not for his sister coming to her defense, he would've…

  He would’ve what? Natalie wasn’t his. Confused, Declan shook his head.

  Natalie's voice was soft when she said, “I didn't take it personally. You warned me that your parents weren't going to be happy. I'm here and surprise, surprise, your mother wasn't. I'm expecting the same from your father.”

  Declan glanced at her. “You’re something else. You know that, right?”

  “What do you mean?”

  He told her the one thing he wanted to say to her since her mother uttered those ugly words in her kitchen. "You're not a throw-away."

  Natalie laughed. “I know that. Like I said, I didn’t take anything your mother said personally. Sometimes I think if our situations were reversed, I would have said the same. Her focus is her family from what I can tell, and I can’t fault her for that.”

  Declan snorted. “Tell that to Hannah.”

  “Who is Red Bowinger?”

  “He works for the CE and is one of the better-known cage fighters,” he said, thinking of the shifter and grimacing. Red didn’t belong anywhere near his sister.

  “Does that look on your face mean that you’re not a fan?”

  “Absolutely not.”

  “Then I reckon your mother elbowing in on that situation wasn't a bad thing, either,” Natalie said, turning her head to stare out the passenger side window as they turned into what appeared to be a back alley but was actually a portal that led to the rolling estate where the Council House sat. “Even if her talk about diluting bloodlines was more than a bit ridiculous.”

  “Keep that opinion to yourself, especially in here.” He hadn’t meant the growl that came with the words. He knew his mother didn’t think there was anything wrong with mixing up the bloodlines, but it wasn’t a belief held by many and Natalie had been right. His mother would go against her own principles in a heartbeat if she thought it was keeping her family safe.

  The last thing they both needed was for her to voice her opinion in front of people who would use it against her.

  “I’m nothing more than a smile on your arm, sweetheart,” she told him with faux sweetness and a wink as he pricked his finger and drove through the rolling gate as it opened for them. “You don’t have to worry about me forgetting my role.”

  Declan didn’t say anything else until after he parked the SUV. “Ready?”

  “As I’ll ever be,” Natalie said with a sigh before taking a deep breath and plastering a wide smile on her face. “Let’s go.”

  The door to the Council House was a twelve-foot-tall, ornately-carved wooden monstrosity. Declan opened it quickly, ushering Natalie inside. It took a moment for his eyes to adjust to the sudden darkness when the door shut heavily behind them, but after a second when his eyes adjusted, he saw Rhoda sitting at the desk just inside, flanked by two standing CE officers who were regarding him with narrowed, impenetrable gazes.

  "We weren't expecting you, Mr. Azarov," Rhoda said, her lips pursed as she regarded Natalie. The older fae woman had her wings tucked tightly to her back, hidden beneath a large canary yellow blazer. Anyone looking at her would think she was human until she took the coat off. "Who do you have with you?"

  “Natalie Everhart,” he told her before Natalie could answer. He stepped a hair closer to her and placed his hand lightly on the small of her back. “We’re here to see my father.”

  Her eyes stayed glued on Natalie. “Natalie Everhart. I’ve never heard of you.”

  “Witch, Rhoda. She’s a solitary,” Declan said before Rhoda had the chance to ask. Part of her job was keeping a record of every person who came in and out of that door.

  “Interesting,” she said with zero interest in her voice before turning to stare openly at Declan. “Your father is in with the rest of the Council members in the public chamber, overhearing complaints.” She smiled wide, her teeth not filed like some of the other fae but her smile was just as menacing. “But I’m sure you already knew that.”

  "Thank you." Declan put a small amount of pressure on Natalie's back to steer her around the fae and her guards. He nodded toward both men, noting their intense smells of power and fur. Warlock-werewolf hybrids, most likely. Neither one of them responded, but he didn’t expect them to. They weren't trained to indulge in pleasantries.

  When he looked at Natal
ie, he saw her smile hadn't faded, but he could feel the nervous energy humming over her skin. However, to anyone looking at her, she appeared perfectly relaxed being there. He knew then she was going to be able to pull this off.

  Taking her hand, he went down the wide, dimly lit hall and stopped in front of another set of double doors. This time he could hear a multitude of voices on the other side. He cracked the door open and slid inside, taking Natalie with him. He kept the door from slamming shut behind them and crept to one of the back benches against the wall that was reserved for onlookers.

  The Council was in session. Only fifteen of the twenty-one Council seats had people sitting in them, his father filling up one position with both Xavier and Curtis flanking him. The other two werewolves served as advisors for his father, although they could cast their vote on his father's behalf if Malcolm was absent from Council House for any reason, and they also voted in criminal cases.

  The room was set up similar to a human courtroom, only instead of a judge's bench, there were the twenty-one throne-like seats placed on two raised platforms. One table sat in the middle of the room where people would sit either to be accused, explain themselves, give updates, or present requests to the Council.

  “The fae of Péine and the shifters of New Freedom have never gotten along, that’s no secret, but what you’re suggesting is ludicrous,” Camila, one of the fae representative’s Council members declared. Roarke, the fae faction leader, was unmistakably absent and so Camila, along with Jacqueline who sat next to her, represented his interests.

  The old shifter female stood in front of the council, back ramrod straight as she stared down the fae council member with a degree of ferocity Declan could respect. “It’s not ludicrous. Our people have pulled bodies from the woods, we had to bury one of our town’s most respected residents the other day because he was murdered in his own place of business by a fae warrior.”

  “Okay Veronica, let’s say that Gerald Martin was actually murdered by a fae warrior,” Jacqueline conceded. “You say you have witnesses, so we will humor you here. The fae warrior would’ve had to have gone rogue. There is no way an organized attack would’ve ever been declared on New Freedom, on shifter territory.”