by Lauren Dane
“I forgot to tell you. I put a new grip on your Sig. I think the balance should be better. And you should take me back.”
“Thanks for the tip on the Sig.” She disconnected.
“What did he do?”
She laughed. “You assume he’s the one who messed up.”
“If it had been you, he wouldn’t be the one begging to be taken back.” He had enough experience with such events. Enough that he’d ceased having anything more than flings.
“I’ll tell you, but only if you have some vodka at your house to go with the steak.”
“I have whiskey and some tequila. Will that do? I own a bar, it’s not as if I can’t stop to get vodka.”
“You’re very accommodating for a guy who just met me less than an hour ago.”
He liked taking care of people. And he was intrigued by Lark Jaansen and her colorful contradictions. She pleased his senses. In an entirely platonic way, of course. He sure as hell wasn’t going to be nailing her, but that didn’t mean she wasn’t interesting to man and wolf.
“You’re one of Meriel’s. She’s the woman of a man who is like my own brother.” He was raised to honor family and your connections to people. She was important to his family and so she was someone he would protect.
He got off the freeway.
“Whiskey is fine. Or tequila. Thank you.”
His phone rang this time and when he answered, Meriel’s voice sounded over the speaker.
“Is Lark with you?”
“Yes, of course.” He turned his attention to Lark as he took the steep turn on the drive up to his house. “I thought you said you called Meriel?”
“I texted her to say I had arrived and was with you.”
“Texting is not calling.” Meriel’s voice underlined this point.
He hoped Meriel wouldn’t hear the smile in his voice. “She’s here with me. I’m going to feed her. She’s a little thin. And give her a drink. I’ll be sure she gets back safely. Tomorrow all you witchy types will have your war talks and all that jazz. Let the girl have a good steak and a decent night’s sleep.”
“Gage is going to pick you up first thing. We’ll get you a car as well. Our old place is warded up tight. No worries at all on that front. No one will breach your security there.”
“Good to know about the warding. I expected nothing less. As for Gage, yes, I spoke with him before I left L.A. I’m good. I promise I can take care of myself, Meriel. I’ll see you tomorrow afternoon. Appreciate the use of your place, by the way.”
“We’re climbing the hill to my place. Cell service is going to get sketchy. Talk to you later.” He hung up and Lark laughed again.
“World-class skills, Meriel Owen. I’ve yet to meet a cannier witch when it comes to politics. She constantly pisses people off and yet they always listen to her. Take her seriously. Clearly you’re like she is. Just because I’ve never met a Lycian before doesn’t mean I can’t see you’re clearly a superior specimen. I mean, top of the food chain in Lycian speak or whatever. Why aren’t you back home ruling the pack?”
The blunt thing was refreshing. Witches weren’t usually so plainspoken. He liked it. “I’m the third son. My oldest brother already leads the pack in my father’s name. My next youngest brother is his right-hand man.”
“Ah, so like you have the heir, and then the spare and what about you?”
“There are corollaries. I’ve got eleven brothers and four sisters. We each find our place and path. Mine led me here.”
She leaned forward, gripping the dashboard, getting her fingerprints everywhere he was sure. “Holy crap. Simon, is that your house?”
Pride warmed him as she gawked at the grounds and the edifice of the house through the windshield.
“They’ve been building it for a year. Just finished everything a month ago.”
“You could totally play basketball in here.” She got out once he’d closed the garage door.
“I have a basketball court. Do you play?” He motioned toward the doors that led to the breezeway between the house and garage.
“Of course you do. My weapons are in my suitcase. I shouldn’t leave them out here. They’re kitted for taking down things far worse than a deer.”
The wolf inside him responded with pleasure.
“We can talk weapons while I get the steaks started.” He grabbed her bags from the trunk. “Come on.” He indicated the door to the breezeway. “Rest assured that this ground is safe.” He bowed his head and she realized he meant it. He took it as a matter of pride and responsibility that anyone on his land would receive safe passage. It was old-school honor.
“Thank you. This place is amazing. I hope you won’t be offended if I said I’d like to be outside for a little while. Would you mind?”
She’d spent a few hours in a plane and in cars and she wanted to clear all that from her system and get her magick centered again.
“Not at all. Let’s drop this in the house and I’ll take you to the gardens.”
As she let him lead her to the main house, she couldn’t help but admire everything she saw. The house sat on a large lot with a view from every window.
He took her to the heart of his house and she felt the deep well of his connection to the land beneath them. It was so clear, this harmony between Simon and the earth, it seemed to sing through the air at times.
He put her bags down in an entry.
“She likes you here.” Lark followed her senses through his house, looking up at the soaring ceilings and walls of glass. It was just as clean and elegant as she’d imagined it would be. But with a surprising warmth and masculinity.
“The earth I mean. Just in case you were following along at home.” She liked the confusion on his face, followed by understanding that she was referring to her earlier comment about the earth liking him.
“Meriel says this too. It’s reassuring to hear it from another person I suppose. Welcome to my home, Lark Jaansen.” He bowed, courtly.
“Thank you for having me here. This is beautiful.” She turned in a circle when he took her to his living space. “I was right.” She smiled at him.
“Should I be flattered?” He flipped a switch and the walls of windows opened up to a deck with a view that had her moving outside before she’d known to do it.
“Yes. It’s not serial-killer-scary neat. It’s clean and simple. You’ve created a place where nature is totally inherent to the overall design of the house.”
Three levels of decking and entertainment areas sprawled down the slope of the land.
“I wanted to occupy the land and still respect the shape and sense of wildness.”
He’d certainly succeeded. Her breath caught as she stepped from her shoes and pulled her socks off. The intensity of connection to the well of magick at her feet shocked through her system. The font clicked into place as it accepted her, as the land at her feet recognized her as Owen through her connection to Gennessee. Their foremothers were the same and their magick still flowed strong here.
She breathed in deep, simply letting the energy hum through her system, filling her up and washing away the exhaustion and agitation of the day. “This is stunning, Simon. Truly.” She continued to meander and he steered her around one path and directed her back up toward the house.
“You’re not wearing shoes, that path is for shoes and I don’t want you to get hurt. Would you like a drink? If you’re ready to go inside?”
“Yes, thank you.” She looked out over the mountainside and to the world below. “Such a riot of nature here. Every time I visit, it strikes me, the thin veil between nature and humanity. So much natural beauty here and yet just ten minutes down this mountain and you’re back into the buttoned-up control of a city. At home it’s different. My magick isn’t stronger or weaker really, it’s just that the ways I access my magick are different. So much light, the salt of the ocean, the energy of all that humanity hums through the concrete.”
She followed him back inside and toward th
e large, open kitchen that shared the heart of the house.
“And here it’s as if I breathe the magick in through my pores.”
Simon watched her through his careful, assessing eyes and it felt as if she passed muster when he nodded. “Would you permit me to choose the drink?”
She shrugged. “Sure, why not?”
He went to a bar and studied it for long moments before he pulled a bottle out. She leaned against the counter and watched as he pulled two black stones from the freezer and put them in glasses. He poured the amber liquid—scotch, she could scent the oak of it—over the stones and then once again with the second glass.
“One of my brothers has a boutique whiskey distillery. Try.”
She breathed the scent of the whiskey in before she took a sip. The smoke of it danced across her tongue.
He didn’t pester her to ask what she thought. Instead he moved to the sink to roll up his sleeves and wash his hands.
“I like it. I’m not normally a whiskey drinker. But for this I’d make an exception. Can I help?”
He paused to look her over. “There are tomatoes over there on the counter. Fresh mozzarella in the fridge.”
She moved to wash her hands the way she’d seen him do it. “Do you have balsamic and olive oil?”
He snorted at her audacity. “Do I look like a man who wouldn’t have olive oil and balsamic?”
“I’m not sure most men do. Though it’s pretty cute you assume that.” She shrugged and sipped the whiskey again. “I notice you’re less terse. Is it the whiskey?”
He laughed, putting the steaks on the grill on his center island as she cored and seeded tomatoes.
“I’ll let you know after the next glass. For now, tell me about the bruise on your neck.”
Surprised, she reached up to touch. “You can see it?”
“I assume you used some sort of glamour on it? To hide it from humans?”
“People always think I have a boyfriend with big fists and it’s not like I can tell them a rogue werewolf tried to twist my head off or whatever. But you can see it?”
“Glamour spells don’t work on me.”
“Handy. Though I suppose I’ll have to keep that in mind. I’m pretty good at glamours. Good thing I’m so charming otherwise.”
He struggled against a smile and she realized it was sort of fun to poke at his careful reserve.
“I’ll keep that in mind. As for it being handy? Sometimes, yes. What happened to that werewolf?”
She shrugged as she washed some basil to go with the tomatoes she’d just sliced. “He’s no longer a problem.”
“Is that an issue? Rogue wolves? And if so, why doesn’t the local pack take care of it?”
“It’s a big problem this year. The population of feral wolves has tripled. Things have gotten worse in many ways over the last year or two. The local pack is pretty good, though they prefer to pretend rogue wolves aren’t an issue. Since they can infect others and seem to do it without a lot of thought or care, I happen to disagree. Annoying that I have to play police to a wolf issue. But it helps me if I’m having a bad day. It’s always a good workout to kick some shifter ass.”
He seemed to think that was hilarious and she gave him a raised brow as she sliced the basil into ribbons.
“Sorry. I’m not mocking. I’m just imagining what the Alpha must think of you.”
She shrugged. “It’s not the Alpha so much as their Enforcer, who frowns on it. Though you all do like to frown. Still, she knows it’s a problem and in the end, we’ve achieved some level of détente. I get to be the scary monster out to kill them if they get out of line. It’s sort of fun to be the boogeyman.”
He nodded, moving about with that grace she’d always associated with shifters. “If they won’t take care of it, you have to. Of all Others, shifters should know this.”
“I know it’s not as crazy here. I’ve been reminded a hundred times that Seattle is so much calmer. Truth be told, I’m sort of excited.”
“It used to be true, yes. Peaceful territory. Clan Owen has been in charge for a long time. But lately… well, lately things haven’t been so calm and quiet. You might have to show them how to throw some more punches.”
“I’m good at that too.”
He looked her up and down. “I can believe that. Now, tell me about the ex.”
Chapter 2
HER first full day in Seattle found Lark addressing the full governance council of Clan Owen. Nell Hunter, the leader of the Hunter Corps, was in attendance along with her right-hand man, Gage.
What had struck Lark from the start was how much different the physical space at Owen HQ was from that of Gennessee’s council office. As different as Rebecca Gennessee and her half-sister Edwina Owen were.
Gennessee’s offices were a hive of activity. A lot noisier than the serene, businesslike feel here at Owen. The hunters had their own floor as their force was roughly five times the size of Owen’s hunter team. Not better or worse necessarily, just different. Different enough that she knew simply her presence ruffled feathers.
No one liked change. Especially when the change was due to a bunch of scary junkies prowling the streets looking to kidnap witches to kill them for their magick. Lark understood their hesitation. But at that point she was frustrated that people would cling to the past when they knew those times were long gone.
The world was changing for everyone. It was silly to imagine you could just pretend otherwise.
You adapted or you died. Lark knew which she preferred.
“So we’ve seen a distinct reduction in overall crime in our community since we’ve instituted this system of tactical units.”
Edwina Owen, the previous leader of Owen and still a very important figure there, looked Lark over, one brow up. “Your hunters use human firearms and weaponry. That’s a complicated matter and raises the chances of discovery by human authorities when we obtain the necessary licenses.”
Another bone of contention. Why Others were so wussy about guns she could never really understand.
“It does indeed bring us into more contact with the human authorities. Clan Gennessee can’t afford to lag behind what criminals of all sorts use to commit crimes. We have a higher concentration of incursion into our community by outside groups. Drugs and organized crime are on the rise. I can use magick of course, and I do. But everyone gets depleted and a bullet does the trick in a pinch. The Hunter Corps are staffed by commonwealth witches, we don’t have the same power levels full-council witches do.”
Sometimes full-council witches, those witches with the most power—magickal and political—in a clan forgot that the majority of clan functions were performed by the general population—commonwealth witches. As a commonwealth witch, Lark didn’t have a bond-mate, or super-duper power levels. She was strong and smart, but bullets helped tip the balance in her direction and she had no problems at all using all the tools she could.
“And now the mages are working with turned witches and human separatists. They use guns. The human organized criminals we found last year had been working with witches to run a brisk business in prostitution and drugs—they use guns too. They use guns and explosives and they’ll hit a crowded street party filled with children just as easily as choose a military target.”
Meriel, Edwina’s daughter and the new leader of Clan Owen, looked to Nell. “What do you think?”
Lark respected Nell a great deal, especially when she backed Lark up. “She’s right. And permit me to remind you all that Meriel bears a scar that underlines Lark’s point about guns.”
Meriel touched the place on her side where she’d been shot only two months before in a deadly clash with mages and turned witches.
Nell continued. “We found explosives in that warehouse. Homemade timers. Several small frag bombs. These people want to hurt us, kill us, take everything they can from us and they’re not only going to use magick. In fact they won’t because we’re superior at it.”
Lark nodd
ed in total agreement.
“This isn’t Los Angeles.” Edwina Owen said it and though she had no actual lip curl, it was in her voice.
“No. It isn’t. You have a fairly decent relationship with your local wolf pack. Ours can be contentious at times. The largest vampire population in the United States is concentrated in the Los Angeles metropolitan area. Overall your crime rate is lower. And yet your leader was shot in an attack by mages. Here on Owen land.”
“And this wouldn’t have happened on your watch?” Edwina Owen was clearly insulted.
Lark took a deep breath. Politics were Helena’s job. She was better at not getting people upset than Lark was. But she had no need to play submissive when she was being insulted over something stupid. And she could probably do it without being offensive. “It isn’t Gennessee’s intention to insult you. Your land is different. The challenges you face are different.” She looked to Nell, who thank goodness understood exactly why Lark was there.
“There was a time when all hunters did was round up witches who broke the rules of the clan. But that job gets harder and more complicated every year because the world is more complicated. We live among humans and Others. Their crimes and problems bleed into our lives and we can’t ignore it. For instance, seven months ago one of our witches had thrown in with a group running a meth lab. Oh, true love. I had to send in a team to clean that up. Because I’d made connections with the local authorities I was also able to get them involved to clean up the biohazard the lab had created.”
“My sister has less problems with being discovered by humans than I do.”
Which was Edwina’s issue, Lark could tell by the way the other woman’s back stiffened. In any case, Meriel had warned her to be prepared for such an attack and so she was. She stood her ground. Gennessee had nothing to apologize for.
“With all due respect, Ms. Owen, that doesn’t make it any less likely to happen. It’s not dependent on whether or not you believe in doing it. You tie the hands of your hunters when they’re not trained as they should be. They’re your best defense against external threats. Now we’re being hunted for our magick. We can be predators, or we can be prey. I know which I plan to be.”