by Layla Nash
“Explain more here.” I wasn’t about to go anywhere else. It felt like things would get better, since I’d agreed to come back to the warehouse and they’d taken me over to the florist, but I was still being jerked around based on someone else’s goals and priorities. Which was bullshit. But he wasn’t the problem. Henry definitely wasn’t the problem; he was just the poor schmuck who’d drawn the short straw for guarding me that first night. “Please.”
He grumbled and groaned but finally went on, giving Mercy a warning look when she almost burst at the seams with wanting to say something. “He likes you. All that stuff translated into you being in danger, and he walked in and saved you. You were worried about it, you smelled a little bit like you were afraid or upset, and when he walked up, you leaned against him for protection. That’s how the wolf half of his brain is translating things. That’s what’s driving this. You’re his to protect. You need him to protect you. Normally—” Henry’s cheeks reddened and he went back to looking at the ceiling. “Normally the solution would be for him to drag you back to his room and…make sure you smell like him. And reestablish, in the wolf’s mind, that you’re safe and protected and his.”
And my cheeks heated in response. So maybe it was a good thing that they’d hustled him out of the car to somewhere else. “But I’m not. His, I mean. I’m not his.”
“You are as far as the wolf is concerned,” Henry said. “And even though he can still be reasonable about it right now, if he smells you again and you still smell like that kid who tried to touch you when you didn’t want it, that’ll just rile the alpha up all over again even worse.”
I covered my eyes. “That is... Unbelievable.”
“It’s a fact of life for us,” Mercy said. “It’s weird, I guess, from the outside, but a lot of how we communicate is through scent. This is just a piece of it. It’s not a big deal. Just take a shower and we won’t have to mention it again.”
“And if I don’t want to, just on the principle of the thing?”
They looked at each other, then at me. Henry cleared his throat. “It’s hard to tell what might happen, at least with Evershaw. He might drop you in the shower himself, or put you in his clothes, or... I don’t know.”
“So I have to smell like him, is what you’re saying? Why can’t I just smell like me?” For the second or third time that day, it felt like an out-of-body experience.
Mercy started combing her hair back to put up in a ponytail, her expression still earnest and helpful. “It’s just safer that way. Everyone knows you’re his, so they won’t—”
“But I’m not.” My hands clenched and I resisted the urge to stomp my foot like a child. “I’m not his. I’m not anyone’s. I’m my own person and I’m really fucking tired of people telling me what to do. Even if they think they have my best interests at heart.”
Henry took a breath, about to argue, and I whipped up my hand to cut him off. “I want to go back to my room, I want to snuggle with my cat, and I want to think without anyone else talking. Okay?”
They traded looks again, then Henry shrugged and gestured for me to precede them into the suite. I shook my head and held my irritation in check until I was back in the guest suite, and it was only then that I wondered whether I should have asked to go back to the first room I’d stayed in. But when I poked my head out, they’d both disappeared.
No doubt to go report back to Todd and Miles about how uncooperative and irrational I was being. I flopped onto the bed and braced myself for Cricket’s immediate appearance, since he always landed on my stomach like a ton of bricks, and stared up at the ceiling. What the hell had I gotten myself into?
I dragged a pillow over my face. At least I’d told Estelle I wasn’t going to stand with the coven anymore. I could take that off the list of stressors in my life. Now I just had to figure out how to get some extra hours at the florist, or maybe a new career as a barista, to pay for all the renovations for the house. The possibility of leaving the city had occurred to me, especially to get away from Estelle, but all my memories of my mother were there tied up in that house. I couldn’t leave it just yet. Not yet.
It wouldn’t be that hard to avoid Estelle and the coven. The city was big enough for all of us. The trick would be avoiding Miles and all of his people after things finally worked out and we knew why he was still in danger—or whether Smith had just messed up the geas. Although from the way Henry and Mercy talked, it didn’t sound like I would be able to just walk away from their pack. Particularly if Miles thought of me as “his.”
The thought made my stomach squirm, and I couldn’t decide if it was a good squirm or a bad squirm. The implications were definitely not great, since I didn’t do well with anyone telling me what to do or making decisions for me—and Miles didn’t strike me as the kind of guy who’d be totally laid back about who made decisions in a relationship. If he even had relationships. But the good squirm... that came from the feeling at the florist when he put his arm around me and squeezed me close and I could lean against him and feel perfectly supported, perfectly protected. Safe. Steady. Grounded.
I hadn’t felt grounded since before my mother died. Instead I’d been completely unmoored, flying through life like a free particle, bumping into some things and missing others completely, and happening across challenges and opportunities alike at a random rate. It was like I’d lost my true north. And Miles could be a compass.
Cricket set his paws against the pillow and started kneading right into my face, and I groaned as I moved him aside. There probably wasn’t anything really there with Miles. I was deluding myself. He got all hyped up on whatever competitive drive the animals got and started to think of me as part of his pack, and he reacted to a potential threat.
It wasn’t anything beyond that, regardless of how much Mercy and Henry thought he liked me. Plus I’d saved Miles’s life a couple of times, and would probably have to again if the geas was any indication, and that kind of thing tended to generate positive feelings. Nothing would come of it.
Nothing would definitely come of Palmer, either. Seeing him next to Miles just made it that much clearer that I couldn’t share my life with Palmer. He offered to make things so easy, from the flashes I could remember discussing on the front porch before the coven meeting, but I didn’t really want easy. I didn’t want him. Even if he made sense on paper and Estelle even made the point that we were both witches and no one would be able to understand me like another witch. That was painfully clear just in the last hour, as I tried to translate the “smell like him” conversation when it was totally obvious to the wolves but not something I would have guessed in a hundred years. A relationship was hard enough when both people spoke the same language, but when there were fundamental differences in their very natures... What chance for success could there really be?
Not that I’d really ever been in a relationship. It was kind of tough to find a guy to stick around when he started to figure out something was different about me—like being a witch. And I was always disappointed by them. The guys would do something or say something or be completely oblivious, and it was just easier to end the relationship than face the reality that they weren’t who I’d thought they were or I’d misjudged them or they’d lied or whatever ended up happening. I definitely didn’t have enough relationship experience to keep up with Miles, if he wanted that sort of thing. Which I wasn’t entirely certain of, regardless of what Mercy seemed to think, since he hadn’t done much except kiss me that morning and that was because I’d fallen on the floor and then practically sat up in his lap.
I clenched my hands in my hair and rolled to my side so Cricket could cuddle under my chin without smothering me. Not for the first time I considered taking him to a groomer so they could shave him so I didn’t have to choke on fur every other minute. Only the certainty that he would kill me in my sleep kept me from doing it. That and there wasn’t a groomer anywhere who could survive putting clippers to Cricket.
The cat purred and pushed hi
s paw against my cheek. At least he loved me. I could run away from Miles and everyone else and set up a cat rescue in my house and fill every room with needy cats. It would be perfect. Lonely, but perfect.
My eyes burned as tears bubbled up out of nowhere. Just when I convinced myself that being alone wouldn’t be so terrible, I got this ache in my chest that reminded me it would be. It would be unfair and empty, at least for me. I wanted to share with someone. I wanted someone to lean against when I was weak, and I wanted to help someone when I was strong. Even if it weren’t Miles, I wanted someone else in my life. I was just too tired to keep looking. I felt sunburned all over my heart, because every time someone touched it, it hurt more and more.
I couldn’t even muster up the ice queen with my mantra. I didn’t have to be that here, not among the pack, and the relief it caused nearly left me sobbing under the covers. I didn’t have to pretend. I could take a breath and exhale and almost, almost belong. Cricket fussed at me until I sat up and wiped my cheeks, my head aching, and he led the way to the door and through the empty living room to the kitchen, sitting in front of the fridge as he gave me an imperious look. We’d forgotten to get his cat food, so there wasn’t anything in his bowl and he knew it.
Maybe wandering around in the suite without having showered broke the rules and would just remind Miles that I’d been hanging out with other people, but there wasn’t much I wanted to do about it. Luckily there were a few cans of chicken in the pantry. Cricket almost turned his nose up, but when I said, “That’s it, that’s all there is,” he grudgingly dug into the pile of chicken. I added, “You spoiled boy,” under my breath for good measure.
I stood in the kitchen and gazed at the living room, uncertain. Regardless of what Miles thought of me or whatever he might have planned, I could picture myself living with the pack. I could have a lot of fun hanging out with Mercy and even the serious Henry, along with the rest of the wolves I hadn’t met yet. They could use a witch, no doubt, since everyone else tried to kill them at a surprising rate. With Miles stomping through the city and insulting everyone he came across, no doubt there would be more assassination attempts. I could provide value. My life and my magic would have meaning.
And it might buy me enough time to figure out what I wanted to do next, since I didn’t want to work in a greenhouse for someone else my whole life. I didn’t know exactly what I wanted to do, but there had to be something more. Regardless of how things shook out, I was pretty sure I didn’t want Miles Evershaw as an enemy, or even someone who disliked me. Which meant not pissing him off too much. I sighed and hiked up my grown-ass adult pants and went to take a shower.
Chapter 39
Miles
Sitting in the car with her reeking of those awful people almost sent him over the edge. Evershaw could hardly stand it. He’d barely been able to force himself into the front seat, instead of tackling her in the back seat so he could rub all over her and get rid of any hint of where Palmer touched her. Just the thought of that kid set his teeth on edge, no matter how apologetic he was.
Evershaw wanted to stay with her, wanted to pick Deirdre up and carry her somewhere where no one else would bother them, but he couldn’t afford to be alone with her. He didn’t trust himself, and she wasn’t ready for that. It was clear in her reaction to Palmer and even to Henry and the others that the witch didn’t want anyone pushing her around. He’d already been her kidnapper and jailer, and he didn’t want to add anything else to that list unless he was damn sure they both wanted it.
He made it all the way back to his office, Todd on his heels, before it occurred to Evershaw that he should have maybe told Deirdre something before he stormed off instead of leaving her in the truck for Mercy and Henry to deal with. He could have explained or at least asked if she was okay, but every time she moved, he could smell Palmer. He could smell that awful aunt of hers, who’d said such fucking vile things to Deirdre, and it got his wolf enraged all over again.
He sat behind his desk and ground his teeth as he struggled with control. It helped that Todd put a glass full of whiskey at his elbow. Evershaw scowled and slammed it in a couple of gulps. Todd refilled it, waiting, and when Evershaw didn’t down it all, Todd poured himself some and took one of the seats across from the desk.
His second-in-command grinned and swirled the whiskey in his glass. “So...?”
“So what?” Evershaw growled. “What’s wrong with you? Did you hear from Smith yet?”
“Smith left a message; we can call him back whenever. He didn’t seem to know what I was talking about, though.” Todd kicked back and put his feet up on the corner of the desk. “But before we get to that—what was with the super-aggressive shit in the florist? The witch wasn’t in any real danger.”
Evershaw scowled. “Not yet. But I wasn’t going to let those jackasses elevate shit later. I don’t trust either of them. See if we can get eyes on them both for the next couple of days. I don’t know what they’re capable of. Maybe Deirdre can explain what they can do, so we can protect against it.”
“Are you sure that’s what you want to ask her to explain?” Todd’s teeth flashed white.
Evershaw started to think the man had been drinking a hell of a lot longer for him to act like such an ass. “Get Smith’s number and call him, dick. I want to get this resolved as soon as possible.”
“Are you sure?” Todd sat up but didn’t do more than pull his phone out of his pocket. “If the connection between you and Deirdre is severed, she can leave. She can go home and we’ll never see her again.”
He hadn’t thought of that. Well, he’d considered it. He just hadn’t accepted that. He didn’t want Deirdre to be obligated to stay with the pack. He wanted her to want to stay with the pack. To stay with him. It was easier if she remained under the geas, whatever it was, though that also meant she didn’t really have a choice. He wasn’t interested in having a woman who didn’t want to be with him. He’d had enough of that with Ashley when she started running around with a bunch of other men before she finally got the balls to walk away.
Evershaw paused with the whiskey halfway to his mouth, frowning. He hadn’t thought of Ashley or the ass pain she’d put him through in days. Not since Deirdre showed up and started distracting him with her maddening defiance and attitude and fantastic ass and enchanting eyes. He swallowed more whiskey and leaned back in his chair. Interesting. Very interesting.
Todd cleared his throat, eyebrows arched, and held out his phone. “Well?”
Evershaw gave him a dirty look and took the phone. “Smith?”
“Good afternoon, Evershaw. How are you today?”
The old man sounded exhausted and distant, like he wasn’t in the city but had instead been transported to the other side of the world. Evershaw hesitated, uncertain if he wanted to drag the old man into more drama, then figured this was partly drama of the old man’s making. “We found the person who slipped me the poison; she admitted it, and we killed her. So there’s no more threat. Except Deirdre is still bound by whatever it was you did.”
“How do you know?” Smith sighed.
“Because she tried to hex me and it backfired.”
The ErlKing managed to laugh, though it was creaky as old hinges and dust. “Did she hex you on purpose or was this just in the natural course of your acquaintance?”
“She wanted to test to see whether the whatsit was still in place. And it knocked her to the floor.” He frowned as Todd started to chuckle; they hadn’t really talked about how Evershaw and Deirdre came to be kissing when Todd interrupted, but he figured his cousin started to put the pieces together. “So it’s still in place. Does that mean I’m still in danger or did you just do it wrong?”
“I assure you, I did not do anything wrong.” At least Smith sounded like he believed it, because Evershaw sure as shit didn’t. “There must be something else that triggered it to remain. Are you certain it isn’t Deirdre who wants you dead? She was quite angry when we initially captured her. Has she r
emained... peeved with you?”
“She was pissed at first,” Evershaw said. He refused to look at his cousin, in case Todd started up with the jokes. “But she’s fitting in with the pack now. She escaped the one time and then agreed to come back. So she’s not that pissed.”
“Interesting.” Smith sighed like he’d been holding it in for years. “I will evaluate some of the other sources of magic in the city and see if there are hints of perhaps another group that wants you dead. Hard to imagine, I’m sure, but there we are. If the geas is still in place, Evershaw, rest assured it is because someone wants to kill you. Whether it is poison or a knife or a hex, I cannot say. Be careful.”
Evershaw grunted. “Right. Thanks. Let me know what you find out.” He tossed the phone back to Todd after the call disconnected and held out his glass for more whiskey.
Todd rolled his eyes and got up to pour, shaking his head. “Imagine, someone else wanting you dead. I can’t even believe there would be a waiting list.”
“Shut up,” Evershaw muttered. “You can go start your own pack if you’ve got such a problem with me.”
“And miss all the fun of watching you stampede through the city? No way.” Todd flopped back into his chair, leaving the bottle near Evershaw’s elbow so he could refill his own glass. “There’s no harm in admitting you like the witch. Or that maybe you want her to stay. Or that she’s your mate.”
He choked on a swallow of whiskey and inhaled the shit instead, coughing and hacking as he pounded on his chest, and struggled to breathe as Todd kept watching him with a bland expression. Maybe Todd was the one who wanted him dead. How the hell was Deirdre going to save him from choking to death because his cousin had the worst timing in the world? “What the fuck are you talking about?”
“You’d be in the best position to know, of course, but it does seem awfully coincidental that this particular witch would agree to help us and that she doesn’t immediately want to kill you, like everyone else in the city, apparently.” Todd raised his hands in a parody of an innocent shrug. “And somehow you managed to charm her into staying when you have zero charm at all, and you even somehow managed to kiss her without her vomiting in your face or hexing the shit out of you. So maybe there’s something there.”