by Rhea Watson
“Gavriel,” Jack muttered, one hand in a tight fist, the other smoothing over his cropped black hair, those sideburns a little more salt-and-peppered than when we last spoke, “this has nothing to do with you—”
“Doesn’t it?” I threw my thumb over my shoulder. “This witch has my heart… somehow.” Fire flared in my cheeks when Jack’s brows arched. Fantastic. “I know, I know—surprise of the century. I assure you, it was not intentional, but—ow!”
Alecto dug her nails in harder, pinching the sensitive underside of my bicep through my coat. I jerked away, then met her glare with a grin.
“Come on, man,” she hissed, scowling, fists seconds away from planting on her hips. “Really?”
My grin sharpened just enough to trigger a blush, the red exploding across her skin like a bomb. Silly creatures, we two. I blew her a kiss. Alecto flipped me off.
And Jack cleared his throat uncomfortably from across the smallest, saddest bachelor pad in history.
Right. Back to business.
I whirled around, expression beyond serious again, and pointed at my girl—my heart. “Apologize.”
Jack’s jaw danced through a very obvious clench, and he took a beat, eyes closed, as if to compose himself.
Well, that look might indicate he was calming himself down, but it only succeeded in pissing me off more, because I would not be patronized about this.
“Listen, Gavriel, I appreciate—”
“Apologize!” I bellowed, voice tinged by wrath and power and unhinged fae magic that made the one sad window rattle and the walls shudder. Downstairs, someone dropped a glass, the shatter making Alecto jump, and before I could stop them, my wings flared for extra intimidation.
Jack barely moved.
And I’d ruined yet another suit.
“Damn it,” I grumbled, craning back to take in the damage. “I really liked this jacket.”
“And I really liked that door,” the warlock said gruffly. “Did you break it clean off?”
My gaze flitted to the door barely hanging on a single warped hinge, then leapt to Alecto’s face just in time to watch all the color drain from it. This was what he had done to her, probably: deflect, deflect, deflect.
Bastard.
“That does not sound like an apology,” I snarled, rounding on him slowly as an emotionless Alecto mended the door with a mumbled incantation and a few precise swishes of her wand.
“Enough of this.” Jack strode across the flat and sidestepped me. “Alecto, I sincerely apologize for making you cry. That wasn’t my intention, and it…”
He closed his eyes again, steeling himself, but for once it didn’t read as a show—an act to control those around him. In fact, his aura actually trembled, scattered and fragile and, oh, shit, was he serious about all this? I frowned at his dour profile, and only when he had Alecto’s full attention, her eyes watery again, did he continue.
“It hurts me to… to see you so distraught,” Jack insisted, stumbling uncharacteristically over his words. Arms folded, I glanced between the pair as some of the rage ebbed.
Some.
“But—”
“But nothing.” Might as well step in before the dumb fucker shot himself in the foot again. “For some reason, this fury cares for you exactly as you are, and you deny her?” I gestured to Alecto, up and down like she was the most coveted prize out there, a treasure all men desired—because, frankly, to me, she was. Ugh. “Her? Of all the women, Jack, her you refuse?”
Alecto buried her face in her hands with a groan. “Oh. My. Gods.”
“It’s me,” Jack argued with a hand to his broad, annoyingly sculpted chest, his cut torso a little too apparent beneath the thin white cotton. “It’s not her. She’s… I am the disgrace here. I’ve fallen—”
“Oh, shut up.” I retracted my wings with a grunt, then reached back to assess the damage to the jacket that had cost half a month’s salary. Stupid feelings. You risked more than your heart with them, apparently. “If you don’t think your firing was a political coup manipulated by Iris fucking Prewett and whatever lackeys she’s paid off from the old regime, you’re a bigger idiot than I always thought.”
“I…” Jack blinked back at me, incredulity flashing before he schooled his features. “Of course I have my suspicions, but I need solid evidence to present to the high council before I make my move.”
“Yes, yes, and I’m sure the Clemonte coven can buy the best minds in the country to acquire that for you.” Honestly, if I had half this fucker’s wealth and influence, I’d never have needed to make a deal with Lucifer. Yet here he was, moping in this pit. I gave him a few moments to compose a response, eyebrows slowly lifting, and then snorted when he didn’t bother to hide his resignation. “Yes, as I thought. That’s already underway, isn’t it? You’re just biding your time.”
“Well, yes, but—”
“Then tell her how you feel, right here and now, because that has nothing to do with the rest of the shit happening outside this room,” I snapped, shifting the spotlight to Alecto, who had been watching our back-and-forth with a rather curious intensity. “She shared herself with you tonight—nearly all of her.” She might not have told him about Hammond yet, but from what I’d gleaned, Alecto had exposed all the other important bits. Cut out her heart and offered it on a silver platter. Shared her body with him. “As you can imagine, doing so is hardly… easy.” Been there. Felt that. Still struggling. “So, you owe her the same fucking courtesy.”
Either I’d grown soft or Jack had grown weak, but when I saw the ache in his eyes, the want in his soul shimmering at the surface, I felt for him.
Just a little.
Not enough to intervene on his behalf.
“I-I shouldn’t,” the warlock argued weakly, rearing back—folding in on himself right before our eyes. “This is better in the long run.”
“She is a grown witch who can make her own decisions,” I gritted out, patience thinning by the word. “And if you fuck this up, which I’m all but expecting given this little performance, then Bjorn and I will happily keep her to ourselves and make things right. For now—” I hoisted a hand to block out Alecto’s indignant sputtering. “—we value how she feels. She wants you, you dreary bastard. She misses you, worries about you. Bjorn believes you can both offer each other something beneficial, and that is the only reason I entertain the thought of you two right now after tonight—”
“Gavriel.”
I snapped my mouth shut at her soft urging, at her gentle grip on my forearm. Fight pounded through me, made my pulse hammer between my ears and my mouth water with battle lust. Alecto stopped it at the gate, and when our eyes met, I acquiesced.
For now.
But if he made one more stupid comment about—
“That’s enough,” my fury whispered. Teeth gritted, I yielded the floor and stepped aside, allowing them their moment to make this right.
At first, Jack did nothing. Said nothing. Just stood there like some massive mountain, cold and distant. Murderous rage sizzled and snapped in my belly the longer the quiet dragged on, but I conceded to Alecto—who had fallen deep, deep into those black pools.
Pools crisscrossed with gold, I’d only just noticed.
Depth.
Perhaps there was more to him than I thought.
A point proven when the warlock strode over to my girl…
And dropped to his knees at her feet.
Literally sank down with a solid thud, Hell officially frozen over.
They said nothing as they gazed at one another, which irritated the ever-living fuck out of me, especially when Alecto’s eyes welled with tears again.
This time, they dribbled down her cheeks to meet that shy smile.
And when she and Jack moved, they did so in unison, partners in a dance I wasn’t privy to. His huge hands crept up her calves. Alecto’s settled on his strong shoulders.
“Forgive me,” Jack said hoarsely. “I was a right bastard. I just want to protect y
ou, little one.”
I made a face. Little one? Really? My fury—little one?
Er, no.
“We protect each other,” Alecto murmured, crouching to meet his eyes. “That’s what we do for the people who matter.” Then, in a move that stunned us both, she grabbed his chin and wrenched his head back so that she held all the power between them. Kind of… hot, actually. “And you don’t get to disrespect that because you think you know what’s best.” Her grasp softened, fingers like silk as she dragged them along his steely jawline and up the greying stubble on his cheeks. “I’m sure you know better than me about a lot of other things, but not when it comes to this.” Her eyebrow cocked, mouth curved in an overtly bratty grin. “Understood, Sir?”
Sir. Ah. Well. That clarified a few things.
Kinky fuckers.
“Understood,” Jack growled.
“This is big growth,” I blurted, unable to keep it in anymore, rage replaced by a smugness that radiated like the fucking sun. When two sets of eyes dragged in my direction, I wiggled my brows and crossed my arms triumphantly, tickled pink that I had orchestrated something good for two hearts—one that wasn’t even mine. “What? Normally you’d be tits-deep in a bottle of vodka by now.” Alecto’s gaze narrowed. “Or tits-deep in me.” Jack cleared his throat pointedly, and I took a dramatic step back, stumbling into that pathetic sofa that surely the warlock didn’t fit on. “Right, right, I’m not here.”
Rolling his shoulders back, Jack tenderly collected both of Alecto’s hands, then kissed the tops of them. “I’m so sorry, little one. You’re right. It was cruel of me to deny you a voice in all this.”
“I know it won’t be easy,” she told him. “You’re in a shitty situation right now, and I’m sure it’s scary and stressful and really, just, lonely… You don’t have to feel like that all by yourself. You don’t have to do this alone.”
Once again, Jack’s gaze flicked in my direction, then snapped back to her when I snorted.
“Don’t look at me,” I remarked, half-teasing, half-serious. “I’m barely involved in your dispute.”
First and foremost, my loyalties were to her, to the fury who dove into the pit for me—who was still helping me claw my way out of it.
But if she also wanted to help Jack, support him through all this, then I would stand behind her and do what I could.
Realistically, Bjorn would probably do most of the touchy-feely heavy lifting anyway, but someone needed to provide liquor and snark.
Ignoring me, Alecto cupped Jack’s face again, then nudged him up. The warlock complied in a heartbeat, shooting to his full height, the tallest bugger in all the land, and once more I was left on pins and needles waiting for something to happen. Bjorn and Alecto were a very physical pair, always touching, stroking, holding, cuddling. She and I were verbally combative, and stars above, that did it for me. Words and fire and venom and depraved carnality—
Alecto and Jack, apparently, were lots of longing glances and lingering eye contact and ugh, so boring.
But it meant something to them, the intensity in their eyes heightened the deeper they fell into each other’s thrall, and I let it carry on far longer than my patience allowed.
For her.
Well…
For them, I suppose.
“Can you just kiss and make up already?” I demanded a million years later, tapping obnoxiously at my wristwatch. “We’re pushing curfew.”
Again, it didn’t matter, really. I could sneak Alecto through the ward at any location, not just the front gates, but the intense staring match, the heat rising between them, had become nauseating.
With a giggle, Alecto launched onto her tiptoes, and Jack hoisted her up with an arm around her waist, their mouths colliding in a rough, fevered kiss that sparked a little want in me.
A little desire.
A little jealousy.
Fae regularly took multiple lovers, and harems for men and women were common practice for all but the ruling monarchs. Still, this was my first time sharing a woman I would die for—and watching her kiss someone who wasn’t Bjorn, who wasn’t my vampire kindred spirit and brother in arms, was a touch unnerving. It would pass, of course, and I helped that along by massaging the tightness in my chest with my knuckles, really leaning into the pain.
Feelings aside, Bjorn and I had agreed we would only question Alecto’s choice in men if they were cunts.
And Jack… wasn’t.
Sure, sometimes he acted like one, but deep down, he was a good man.
But this was it: no more than three.
“To be continued?” Alecto murmured when the pair barely eased apart. Jack nodded, that gold-speckled gaze warm and soft as he studied every detail of her face as I’d done time and time again, committing her beauty to memory, crafting a mental picture to hold on to until they met again.
“To be continued,” he rasped. I threw my hands up and headed for the door.
“Fuck me, that was painful.” I snagged Alecto by the crook of her arm, hauling her along after me. “Let’s go already.”
“You are such a child sometimes.” My fury groaned at my antics, then shriek-giggled when I ripped open the repaired front door and shoved her through. I hesitated, however, before slamming it shut behind us, hand on the knob, and looked to Jack. The warlock stared back with what I took as a begrudging acceptance of our dynamic, a sentiment I shared—and had shared since the night security booted him out of his own academy.
Alecto connected us, bonded us, twined our fates into one.
Deep down, I’d known that for weeks now.
Hell, I had beat a warlock to a pulp in Jack’s name—in defense of his school, his pupil, his legacy.
As tedious as he could be with his pomp and ceremony, he mattered to me.
And, for the first time, I acknowledged—barely—that maybe it wasn’t just because he mattered to her. Because when he gave me a nod, one that I returned without question, something clicked. We were in this together.
Offering him a crooked grin, I rolled my eyes and chuckled. “Women, am I right? Such dramatic creatures.”
Jack’s lips parted just as Alecto cursed under her breath, and before I could get another word out, my fury nailed me in the exact right spot on my thigh to make the entire leg go numb.
“Ha,” she barked when I lilted into the doorframe with a grimace. “Dead leg.”
And for the first time since I’d known the bastard, Jack Clemonte burst out laughing—really laughing, the baritone rumble coming from deep in his gut, harmonizing perfectly with Alecto’s giggles.
I flipped them both off and limped down the nearby stairs.
“Lucky shot,” I sneered, shambling along the wall—and grinning like a fool in love.
15
Alecto
You stirred the potion already.
Three times. Same as always.
I glared up at my forehead, uncertainty nipping at my heels as I climbed the hillside stairs to the castle.
Did you?
Ugh. I stopped and glanced back at the smallest greenhouse of the three.
Are you sure?
Yeah, yeah, I’d definitely done it—
Are you sure sure?
Fuck.
I had never been the type to second-guess whether I’d left the oven on or water running when I left the house—but my birth control potion? That temperamental bitch needed to be stirred and babied three times a day for an entire year before it was ready. If you missed a counterclockwise stir, it frothed and spilled over the sides. Like, if you didn’t give in to that attention whore’s demands, boom, all over the floor. If that happened more than twice, you might as well toss the whole batch and start again, because there was no coming back, not even for a professional herbalist.
This year’s batch had been simmering away in the smallest of my greenhouses since January. I tended to it at the same time daily—morning, afternoon, and evening—and kept it happy and coddled. But the thought of st
arting all over again always made me doubt myself. You couldn’t stir it too often, but one less time a day, two days in a row?
Fucked.
And buying the starter kit last July after my move to Scotland had wiped out my first Root Rot paycheck. No, thanks. Not again.
So, even though I was supposed to meet Bjorn at the top of the stairs in, oh, fifteen seconds, I turned and stomped back down, brain mush after a very, very full day of classes.
Last term, I used to meet Bjorn at his classroom. Walking him down the corridor where he had been attacked was something I did for weeks, determined to distract him from the horrors of that night. Now, with Gavriel and Bjorn in the know and my most powerful ally in exile, I was the one with escorts—and they weren’t for distraction. Despite Root Rot descending into militant tyranny, my kids in desperate need of adult advocates now more than ever, Benedict Hammond remained a real threat, and there were just so many dark corners for him to jump out of.
Gavriel and Bjorn traded shifts, the fae taking the day, vampire taking the night, and I rarely had a moment’s peace.
Not that I was complaining.
Two heads were better than one, four eyes better than two—six the most ideal.
Besides, there was no one else I would rather spend my time with, Bjorn and I all cuddles and stolen kisses in the shadows, Gavriel and I bickering loud enough that our voices echoed down corridors and up towers—until he shoved me against a door and won whatever we were arguing about with a deliciously bruising kiss.
Maybe it was stupid, but I had always felt safe in my green kingdom. I knew the ins and outs of the greenhouses, and the conservatory was a maze of floral walkways that only I had memorized like the back of my hand. Beyond that, security patrolled the grounds in pairs, and I always spotted them skulking about, smoking behind my garden beds—tossing cigarette butts into my herbs. The fuckers might have been, well, fuckers, but at least the campus was littered with witnesses.
Bathed in the starlit black of a late-spring evening, I buttoned my jacket up to my chin and hurried along, head down against the chill. Before I left the main greenhouse, I had swapped my clicky-clacky kitten heels for work boots, which definitely clashed with my lecture outfit of a tucked silk blouse and a rigid black pencil skirt, my stockings a checkered grey and white. My footsteps tromped loudly and gracelessly across the cobblestone as I made my way past the two larger greenhouses, then stopped at the main door to the third, unlocking it with my wand.