by Layla Nash
The world narrowed in until all Atticus saw was Logan, the words dropping like rocks around him. A week to learn control that took a lifetime for everyone else to accumulate? He felt slow, like he moved through deep water as he leaned forward. "And if she can't after a week? What then?"
"Put down." Logan studied him, and real regret colored his tone. "It's getting more and more difficult to keep the humans from learning we exist, and to have a leopard running around unrestrained... It's just not possible, Atticus. I'm sorry."
Sorry. Like he wasn't talking about murdering Sophia. Atticus cleared his throat, a knot making it difficult to speak or breathe. "Why not the drugs? If she can't shift at all, that might —"
"I asked." Logan shook his head. "Because she's inclined to run, we can't guarantee that she would continue to take the meds or that she'd stay around so we could monitor her progress. Same with caging her or keeping her in the mansion. She's tried to escape at least twice that you've admitted, and I'm guessing there were a couple of other times when she tried."
Atticus wanted to deny it but they all knew Sophia wouldn't just sit quietly. Even Edgar was impressed with her single-minded determination to free herself. As irritating and dangerous as that was. So he just stared at a spot on Logan's desk and tried to imagine the world without Sophia. "She's pretty determined."
"Yeah." Edgar snorted from behind him. "That's an understatement."
"She'll be ready." Atticus said it with as much conviction as he could muster. There really wasn't an alternative. She had to be ready. She had to survive. "A week? That's it?"
"Four days, actually. The week started when we found her. The Council thought any longer would be unfair. Might give her false hope. And more opportunities to escape." Logan drummed his fingers on the desk. "Here's the thing, Atticus. Because we found her and we're sheltering her, she falls under our jurisdiction for justice. Which means we're responsible for her punishment and ..."
"Execution," Atticus finished, when Logan couldn't get the word out. Four days. "Her execution. You'll be executing her. Murdering her."
"She poses a threat to every —"
"She didn't even know what she was until three days ago." Atticus gripped the arms of his chair until the wood creaked under the stress. "And now she has to figure all of this out in a couple days."
"It's not fair," Edgar said, quiet and right behind him. He gripped Atticus's shoulder and eased into the chair next to him. "I know. It's not fair to her or you."
"Don't worry about me." Atticus fought back whatever emotion wanted to pour forth at the thought of someone executing Sophia. Panic. Rage. Hatred. "It's about her. She's trying. She is. But she's not there yet."
"Will she be ready in time?" This from Logan, impassive.
"She has to be."
"Atticus —"
"What's the alternative?" He pushed to his feet. "She has to be ready."
"Or what?" Edgar stood in his way.
"Or I'll have to kill her." Atticus stared at his brother, ready for the fight that would ensue for challenging Edgar so blatantly. Maybe that would quiet his lion enough for him to face Sophia again. "And none of us want that."
"I'll do it," Logan said. "I'm the alpha."
Atticus didn't look away from Edgar but shook his head. "I'm the enforcer. It's my job to protect the pride. If she can't control her shifting by Tuesday, I'll do it."
"Atticus," Edgar said, the edges of his teeth showing. "Don't be a hero."
"No danger of that." Atticus smiled tightly as he nodded to Logan. "She'll be ready." He turned on his heel and left, unable to stay there another minute. His skin crawled and his lion raged against the threat of anyone hurting her. And nearly lost his damn mind at the thought that he might be the one to hurt her. To kill her.
He shut the door behind himself before bending over in the hall, fists clenched against his head as he gritted his teeth and the world grew dark around the edges. The lion wanted to break free, to race back into the office and show his brothers how he felt about them — about anyone — threatening Sophia.
Maybe if he told them she was his mate, they would protect her. But the Council was so new, if Logan refused to comply the entire thing would fall apart. He knew how important the Council was to Logan and Edgar and Benedict — there was finally a way to cut off the stupid feuds and fights and vengeance that split the shifter community for so long.
Atticus couldn't move as his vision spotted and his skin crawled and he waited for an uncontrolled shift to take him. Soft steps in the hall made him brace for accusations or a nervous servant, but instead Eloise, Benedict's part-gorgon mate, appeared next to him. She touched his shoulder. "Come on, Atticus."
"I'm fine."
"You can lie to them," she said very quietly, dark hair twining and untwining itself in ropey strands around her head. Her gray-silver eyes searched his face when Atticus dared look at her. "But you can't lie to me. Let's go."
He forced himself upright and dragged after her as Eloise led the way through the halls to the first floor kitchen. He almost turned on his heel and went back to face Edgar and Logan when he saw Natalia, Logan's human mate, cooking in the kitchen. Eloise braced her hands on his back and shoved him forward with a laugh. "No you don't, you big goof. Get in here and sit."
She steered him to a stool at the island, and handed him a cup of hot chocolate before pouring herself one. "So. Start talking."
"About what?"
Eloise gave him a sideways look and Natalia, still busy at the stove, said, "Maybe he doesn't know."
"He knows." The gorgon shook a spoon at him, then dipped whipped cream into his hot chocolate. "Don't you."
It wasn't a question, but damned if Atticus knew what they were talking about. "What are you on about?"
Eloise nudged him. "The girl."
His heart sank. He'd wondered when they would make a fuss about his leopard. "Sophia. What about her?"
"How's she doing?" Eloise stirred her drink with a thoughtful frown on her face. "Bennie won't say anything, so I figured it's not going as planned?"
Bennie. Atticus wiped at his mouth to hide his smile. She did it just because it irritated Benedict, not that he would ever make her stop. He was more smitten than Logan was with Natalia, and they were all pretty sickening. It made Atticus just the smallest bit jealous. He leaned his elbows on the island and stared into the swirling chocolate. "She's struggling. We have until Tuesday."
"And then?" This from Natalia, wielding a spatula as she lifted profiteroles off a cookie sheet and set them out to cool. "What happens on Tuesday?"
His heart sank. "If she can't control herself, they'll kill her. Well, I'll kill her."
It hurt to say the words, even if he knew he would never be able to do it.
Both women faced him with hard expressions. Eloise's eyes swirled silver as some of her gorgon magic got worked up. "I beg your pardon?"
Atticus covered his face with his hands, wanting to laugh. "Talk to your mates about it. It's not my call. The Council decided it."
"This fucking Council," Natalia said under her breath, and tossed the spatula aside. "Unbelievable. And yes, I will have a word with that overgrown housecat you keep calling my mate."
Eloise fixed him with a penetrating stare. "Is Sophia your mate, Atticus?"
He choked on a sip of chocolate, coughing to buy time. He couldn't look at her. "I don't know."
"That usually means yes," the gorgon said to the other woman. "He's being coy."
"I'm not —" Atticus held up his hands in surrender. "I don't know. She doesn't know anything about this stuff and it's already difficult for her to understand. I'm not going to tell her she's supposed to be mine and we only have four more days together."
Natalia frowned, watching him, then made up her mind about something. The spatula made a complex figure in the air before it pointed at him once more. "Very well. Tonight, we get her for a girl's night."
"A what?"
"Good idea."
Eloise sat forward to take one of the profiteroles off the cooling rack, though she made a face when she bit into it. "A girl's night. She's got to be tired of only being around dudes. And why don't these taste better, Nat?"
"Because they aren't full of custard." The chef rubbed her forehead and rolled her eyes. "Since they aren't done yet, you scavenger. Jesus Christ." Natalia looked at Atticus. "We'll pick her up at four-ish. Dinner, movies, chocolate, gossip... Good times. And you are not allowed."
Atticus finished the hot chocolate in one long gulp, wondering if Sophia would want some. It might make a reasonable peace offering. "Logan was pretty strict about who could —"
"He'll agree." Natalia sounded grim, and Atticus hid another smile as he caught her determined expression. Logan didn't understand what he signed up for when he chose the feisty chef. Natalia blinked, then slanted a look at Eloise. "You get Benedict in line. And paralyze Edgar if you have to."
"Finish these cream puffs," Eloise said, tossing the half-eaten profiterole at her. "And I might. But I don't turn on the mojo for just anyone, sweetheart. It'll cost you."
Atticus got up to put his cup in the sink and rinse it out. He liked them both, very much, but part of him wanted to keep Sophia all to himself. Every moment they had was precious. He hesitated and took a deep breath. "Look, she really can't control herself if she gets worked up or frightened or angry. And she's a leopard — there isn't a person there, even riding shotgun. It's all predator. So if something happens, Eloise, you really might have to —" He cut off, paralyzed himself at the thought of the gorgon having to paralyze Sophia, and held up his hands. "I can leave you with the tranquilizer gun too."
"We'll be fine." Natalia handed him a giant travel coffee mug and a plate with three profiteroles, filled with custard and drizzled with dark chocolate. "These are test cream puffs, so you both need to try them. And I've no doubt she'll need hot chocolate."
He tried to smile, "Thanks." But Natalia only waved him off and swatted Eloise away from the chocolate and custard.
Atticus ambled out of the kitchen and headed for the suite next to his where Sophia stayed. It was about time to stop for lunch. They could try another shift after the chocolate and then reevaluate. She could do it. He just had to believe she could do it.
Eleven
I'd worked out most of my anger and showered away the rage by the time Atticus knocked on the door of my room. I made a noncommittal noise and he stuck his head in, dark eyes reflecting the light. "Hungry?"
I held up half of a peanut butter and jelly sandwich, made from supplies squirreled away with help from the servants, and spoke around a mouthful of peanut butter. "You want one?"
"Sure." He eased into the room and the partial kitchen, and held out a large plate with three lumpy, chocolate-covered pieces of heaven and a travel mug. "I'll trade you."
I inhaled from the mug and my knees weakened. It smelled like pure dark chocolate. I drained half of it before I managed to slap some peanut butter on a couple slices of bread, then bumped the fridge closed with my hip as I held up two jars. "Strawberry or grape?"
"Grape," he said. Atticus perched on one of the stools next to the high counter across from the fridge, watching me closely as I juggled the bread, knife, jelly, and hot chocolate.
"Good." I concentrated on the bread, stacking up three sandwiches for him and his lion-sized appetite. "Strawberry is blasphemy." I slid the plate in front of him and helped myself to one of the desserts. Living with a chef even part time was dangerous. If it weren't for all the fighting with Atticus, I would have gained ten pounds just breathing the air around Natalia. The woman practically dripped butter, heavy cream, and caramel.
The silence stretched as he ate. His expression remained guarded and I feared I was the cause. So I steeled my courage as I licked chocolate from my fingers. "I shouldn't have yelled at you. I'm sorry."
He glanced up. "What?"
"In the gym. I shouldn't have yelled at you." I shoved away from the treats before I ate a second creampuff, and paced into the living area behind him. "It wasn't fair for me to diminish your struggle just because I can't do this."
Atticus turned on the stool to face me, his eyebrows drawn down. "I deserved it."
I made a face. "A little, maybe. Definitely not all of it."
He smiled with half his mouth, rubbing his shoulder. He held up the remains of a sandwich. "You fed me. We're even."
I didn't buy it, and I didn't like debts unpaid. But Atticus only got up to retrieve a creampuff. He winced as he stood, pressing at the small of his back, and faced me with chocolate smeared on his face. "So this afternoon — what?"
"Over here." I threw a blanket over the dining room table, which looked just sturdy enough to support his weight, and moved the chairs out of the way. He just looked at me, eyebrows raised, and chewed. Irritated, I snapped my fingers. "Seriously. Shirt off. On the table."
His laugh rumbled as a smile spread over his face. Atticus finished the creampuff and licked his fingers slowly, his gaze on me the entire time, and heat sparked low in my stomach. I could just imagine him licking something else entirely. He sauntered toward the table, drawing his t-shirt off in a smooth motion that set his abs to rippling.
My breath caught and I swallowed hard. Okay, maybe giving him a massage wasn't the best idea. I tried for stern, though, and held my ground as he paused right in front of me. He radiated heat and still smelled sweaty from the morning workout, and his eyes sparked with gold as he studied my mouth. A grumbly noise revved in his chest, almost a purr, and his palm drifted down his chest and across his ripped abs. "What are you going to do to me, Sophia?"
A giggle bubbled in my throat and I had to gouge my nails into my arms just to keep a straight face. In all the fighting and exercising over the previous days, the perfection of his body escaped me. Usually because I focused only on hurting it. I pointed at the table. "You hurt your back."
"So you're going to strip me down and lay me out on a table?" His smile spread into a grin. "Even if you're doing all the work, I'm pretty sure I need my back to —"
"Massage," I blurted out, just to cut him off. If he finished that sentence and the full mental image assailed me, I might not have the strength to leave his pants on. I turned on my heel and retrieved some of the cocoa butter lotion I'd found in the bathroom one morning. Not looking directly at his flexed muscles and the dusting of chest hair that trailed down into his gym pants helped preserve what remained of my dignity. "If those muscles seize up, you'll be useless this afternoon. So we fix it."
"Shifters heal pretty fast," he said, but the table groaned under his weight. "I doubt there's much you —"
"Obviously you've never had someone who knows what they're doing." I tripped over the words, though, and my cheeks heated. At least he lay face-down, head pillowed on his arms, and closed his eyes. The bastard still smiled. So I found refuge in the details and put on my lecturing tone. "If your ch'i is not aligned properly, you will not be centered or content in the world regardless of how strong you think you are."
He snorted and muttered something about ch'i but tensed when my palm drifted across his lower back. I spread lotion across the smooth expanse of his skin. "Maybe that's the problem with your lion. His life force is not properly aligned to yours. If the energy is out of balance, it disrupts everything else."
Atticus lifted his head and frowned at the wall, then glanced back at me. "Huh?"
I bit back a smile and knelt on the table next to his hip so I could dig my thumbs into the knotted muscles of his back. "You said it feels like you're losing control, that something changed and now you can't do what you need to. Something must have changed. If your life force is off, if the energy isn't flowing through you and into you in the correct ways, that would disrupt everything else in your life."
"So what, I meditate and everything is fixed?"
Typical male bravado. Stress gathered in his shoulders and knotted his neck and jaw; he carried the weight of his brothers'
expectations, his own ego, the need for secrecy and control. All of it pushed him down. I hmmm'd as I straddled his lower back and dug my elbow into a knot below his shoulder blade. "Meditation, acupuncture, martial arts... Everything together, along with some attitude changes, might help." I punctuated 'changes' with a particularly deep shove and he grunted.
I got more lotion and went back to working my fingers from the base of his skull down his neck. A purr kicked up immediately, vibrating against me as I crouched over him. I started to feel warm as well, sweaty with the effort of manipulating those giant man muscles, and worked in silence so I wouldn't make a fool of myself.
Atticus sounded half-asleep. "If this meditation crap works, why didn't it fix your seizures?"
My hands paused on his sides, and for a moment I only stared at the back of his head and the unlikely cowlick in his dark hair. "Probably because I don't have seizures, do I?"
"Yeah, but —"
"Listen." I pressed on either side of his backbone, working my way down until I sat on his thighs and his muscular butt confronted me. Concentrating on ch'i presented a significant challenge with such a fine posterior pressed against my thighs. "I really believe in this stuff. It's helped me in many ways. Don't belittle it."
"I'm not belittling." He went up on an elbow and half turned to look at me. "I want to understand."
I wobbled and almost fell off the table, and Atticus's long arm reached back to steady me, his hand massive and strong and protective against my side. Heat flushed through me and set my heart racing. "Thanks."
"You're welcome." His voice went all husky, doubly enticing with the purr still rattling through the air between us.
Having a philosophical conversation about the nature of ch'i and the universe didn't flow well with him still holding me and me still perched on his thighs, so I dumped more cocoa butter on him to buy time. "I don't know anything about this shifting stuff, but I'm guessing that you and the lion are like this." I held up my right hand and flipped it back and forth, waiting for understanding to dawn across his expression.