Too many thoughts, insults, and quips flooded my mind and I needed to organize them. His pomposity just made things worse. Why the freaking smirk?
He scowled. “Go on Sky, say your peace so I can go home, it’s late,” he said in a low drawl.
“If it’s past your bedtime, then shouldn’t you be at home instead of trying to pass off one of your half-night stands to Quell? How insulting it must be for her to have you give her away like a free sample with purchase.”
His chuckled, darkly and lacking humor. “I haven’t been with her. If you have a problem with Fiona and her interaction with Quell, discuss it with Claudia. She’s the one that considered them a good fit. She’s the one that wanted me to introduce them.”
Ethan’s godmother was involved. Dammit! Why do so many people feel the need to interject their unsolicited help in my life? Months ago I found out that there was more to Claudia than just being a trader of overpriced art. She was linked to serious magic and connected to the otherworld. I hadn’t quite figured out her role, and no one seemed to be open about volunteering the information.
“Funny, how did she find out about it? Did you run to mommy and tell her that I wasn’t doing what you wanted me to do? Did I miss the tantrum?”
“Actually, I went to her to see if she wanted his remains. The fae find them valuable and she often gives it to them,” he said. His eyes narrowed, deep gray rolling across them.
I sucked in a breath and looked at the face of Quell’s would-be murderer. This was getting bad, fast. I’d dealt with Ethan enough to know when he was angry there wasn’t any reasoning with him. I needed him to be able to grasp that I didn’t need a babysitter or a guardian.
“You should hope that his interest in you is redirected to her,” he said as he started for his car. The conversation was over. The decision was made and we’d passed the point of civil negotiation.
“You will not do anything him, or—”
“Or what, Skylar? What exactly will you do? Yell? Not speak to me? Get into a little huff? Run off and hope none of the many people you’ve pissed off find you? Go head, tell me exactly what you plan to do!”
“Ethan,” I said softly. Poking the angry wolf wasn’t going to get me anywhere. “I swear, I have this. This is my problem and I will handle it.”
“But you’re not handling it! This is getting worse,” he growled, stepping closer, his face just inches from mine. He looked away and sighed and took several slow breaths before he continued. “I can assure you I don’t want to deal with this. Quell means nothing to me. I could go in there right now, kill him, and not give it a second thought. But he means something to you, so I’m trying to get this Michaela situation under control.”
Michaela. I was so tired of everyone trying to accommodate a self-indulgent narcissistic psycho who derived pleasure from others’ pain. It was frustrating.
Ethan regarded me for a long time. His hand rested on my side, and the silence extended for long enough that it was uncomfortable. He moved even closer, eyes narrowed as they fastened on me, the moue on his lips deepening. “Are you jealous of Fiona?”
“So she’s supposed to be my replacement? It will not change anything between Quell and me, we are friends. That will not change.”
“Answer the question,” he commanded.
I’m not sure why it took so long to answer. But it did and the seconds quickly passed. Finally, I shook my head.
“I need to hear you say it.”
I had the full intensity of his attention and now knew why he was so focused when he dealt with people: the very person who had a rather casual relationship with the truth, especially when it came to protecting the pack, their secrets, and his own, couldn’t stand to be lied to. Yet, he never seemed to get the irony or hypocrisy in it.
“No.”
His hand slipped from my waist as he stepped away.
“Am I telling the truth?”
“You want it to be the truth.” He started for his car and wouldn’t look at me.
“We’re friends, I care about him. I want to keep him safe and I want to make sure he doesn’t hurt or kill anyone when he feeds. Why is that wrong?”
The frown had become a fixture on his face and he slowly shook his head, but he wouldn’t look at me. When he finally looked up, there was disgust. I remembered that look. It was the same one he gave me when he realized I had a terait, something seen in vampires when they were experiencing bloodlust. He gave me a similar revolted look after I’d fed Quell and saved his life. But not one time in the past did he look disappointed. Now he did. It was an unattractive shadow that lingered on his face.
He stopped abruptly. “Do you see it?”
I bent my head in a barely discernable nod, catching a glimpse of the jackal out of the corner of my eye.
“Is it the same one?”
Again, I gave a simple undetectable acknowledgment.
“How fast can you change?”
“Not as fast as you can.”
He moved slowly, positioning himself to have quick access to his wolf. The benefit of Quell’s home was it was in an open field, fallow land.
“In your car, you will cut him off from the back, okay?”
I was still holding my keys in hand when Ethan gave chase, sprinting toward the field. Seconds later, his shirt flew through the air and he burst into his wolf. The cloak of fur covered him as his body transformed midair, and when he hit the ground he was charging at the jackal in wolf form. I sped forward in my car, wheeling across the field, placing an obstacle too difficult for the jackal to negotiate. He had no choice but to face Ethan.
Lips drawn back, teeth exposed, they rounded each other looking for an opening. The jackal barked, Ethan howled, and they charged each other. The jackal took to the air and before they could hit each other it disappeared.
What the hell?
One of the benefits of being a were-animal was that magic didn’t affect us in animal form. Ethan and I were the only were-animals I knew that possessed magic, something frowned upon by the Creed, the governing body of the witches. In the past, they ensured a were-animal that possessed magical ability didn’t exist by committing infanticide. Ethan’s mother took great care to make sure his abilities were never discovered. I didn’t have such problems because most people didn’t know I existed, and no one knew that my mother was a witch. I didn’t know until a couple of years ago when I discovered the truth about my birth mother.
Ethan looked around for a moment before changing back. As he approached my car, I could feel the magic the moment I let down my window. It was strong and lingered in the air, but it was the smell that was the most disturbing. This was different than anything I had experienced. Josh’s magic reminded me of the beach, the subtle scent of the ocean, sand, and hints of salt. Samuel’s had hints of rosemary, but still the cleansing smell of the ocean was there. This was different, a putrid stink that burned my nose. Bad magic—wrong magic—deadly magic. I didn’t like it.
Ethan walked across the field, naked. His torso a bundle of defined cords of muscles that wrapped around him like armor and contracted with each movement. He opened his trunk and slipped on a pair of boxers before closing it.
“I need to see Josh,” he said, ducking into his car.
And he sped away, leaving me thinking less about the jackal and the wrong magic that accompanied it and more about why Ethan was trekking through the city in his underwear.
I chuckled, remembering what Joan, the Alpha of the Southern Pack and Steven’s adoptive mom, had said: that most of the members of the pack would traipse through the city naked if it weren’t illegal.
CHAPTER 5
The insomnia made me irritable and when I reached for the phone, I knocked over the scabbard next to my bed. The sword was a gift from Winter, and it was definitely not on the list of things I’d suggested to anyone who’d asked what I wanted for my birthday. I wasn’t nearly as excited about receiving it as Winter was about giving it to me a few months ag
o. A gift card would have been nice, cake even better, but instead she handed me a sword as though she had given me the gift to end all gifts. She presented it to me like she was giving me a red velvet cake, in a box filled with M&Ms, while handing me tickets to my favorite artist’s concert. But that was just Winter, and her giving me a weapon was equivalent to telling me “I kind of like you, so don’t die, okay?” And I took it, because there was no way I would actually hear her say it.
I no longer had my trusty nine iron but instead a sword, something that I changed last night. Michaela was vengeful just for the fun of it, and now she had a reason to attack me. Ethan was right, I wasn’t underestimating her, and adding the disappearing jackal and strange magic, the sword comforted me. And so did the idea that if Michaela attacked me in my room, I would make sure it was the last time she was able to attack anyone again. Nothing lives very long without a head, and I can’t accomplish that with a golf club.
“Yes,” I said into the phone as I looked at the clock—7:20 a.m. I had to meet Winter at ten to spar. I had only been asleep for two hours and my voice was low and gruff despite my trying to clear it.
“Call Winter and let her know you won’t be able to meet her, we have to see Logan, today.”
No, we really don’t. I’m giving that a hard pass.
Visiting a Tre’ase was probably the last thing on the list of things I wanted to do in life. No one really knew what they were: demon, witch gone terribly wrong, or immortal with benefits. Most speculated that they were demons. Whatever they were, they possessed a great deal of magic and were known for being tricksters that were dealt with only when it was absolutely necessary. No one wanted to be indebted to them or have them as an enemy. The latter is where I failed. Logan probably considered me an enemy. When the witches cursed me, I asked him to remove it, but in return he wanted me to give him Chris, Ethan’s ex-girlfriend. I was supposed to be bound to her with a spell, which would have made her subservient to me and then I would be able to gift her to him. Desperation made me callous and convinced me that I could do it because she would have done it to me if the roles were reversed. But I couldn’t. At the last minute I changed my mind, leaving him enraged. That wouldn’t have bothered me too much, after all, he had been cursed as well and was restricted from leaving the territory around the house. Unfortunately, when we used the Clostra to remove my curse we lifted all curses. Because of me, the Tre’ase roamed unrestrained and unchecked.
I expected him to attack me, exact some kind of revenge, but I hadn’t seen him since the night the curse was removed and I was content keeping it that way.
I sighed heavily into the phone. “Why?”
“Skylar, we need to find out what he knows about the Tre’ase that created Maya. It is irresponsible not to know who it is. You do remember what he said would happen to you if anything ever happened to that Tre’ase.”
How could I not remember? I was eternally linked to a person that I didn’t know. And if he died, so does the sprit shade, Maya, who was keeping me alive.
I knew why, but it didn’t make the situation any better.
There was a long pause. “And Josh thinks he might be responsible for the jackal. No one else possesses magic strong enough to do it, and they are able to shift.”
That made things worse because I knew what their true form looked like, and it was grotesque. I tried not to speculate about the amount of magic they must have to maintain their form, or to bind you with magic to an agreement, or to create spirit shades. The more I considered how powerful they were, the more nervous I became knowing I might have one as an enemy.
I rolled my eyes as I approached Ethan’s black car, a different one. I’m sure if Steven were home he would be able to give me the specs on it, which I didn’t want or care about.
“Hmm, I guess the saying is it true, ‘the difference between a man and a boy is the cost of their toys,’” I teased, dropping into the seat next to him.
His lips upticked into a smirk as his gaze lingered in my direction. “You and I both know that this car isn’t the only difference between me and a boy.”
The smirk remained, along with the silhouette of arrogance that he wore. His eyes stayed on me until he had backed out of my driveway and continued. Eventually he focused back on the road, stealing quick glances in my direction.
“Why did you bring that?” he asked.
It was hard to keep an illuminating globe hidden, and because of its size and odd shape, I couldn’t just put it in any type of purse so I stored the Aufero in a large drawstring tote, which didn’t do a lot to conceal it. It bulged out against me conspicuously, no matter how I positioned it.
“I brought it just in case.”
“Josh said it was responding oddly and making it difficult for you to use the magic,” Ethan said.
“It is, but if we are dealing with Logan, bad magic is better than no magic.”
“Josh will be there,” he offered.
I’d never insult Josh by saying he couldn’t handle Logan, but no one knew the extent of his magic and we couldn’t be too careful. It was still Logan: every little bit counted.
I slipped furtive glances at Ethan, who was concentrating on the road, his stern look lacking the emotions that usually simmered just under the surface. I wished we could have maintained a modicum of what we had in New York. It seemed like we had hit a milestone and were in a place where we could share freely with each other, all boundaries lowered, guards relaxed, and it was just two of us managing something civil. But I was a fool to think anything like that could exist between us. Ethan quickly erected the wall and ensconced himself in his bubble.
“Go ahead with it,” he said.
“With what?”
“Your breathing increased, you’re blinking less, and your heart rate has increased, short inconsistent bursts. This always happens when you are frustrated and have something you want to talk about. Talk.”
I nodded my head slowly. “Okay. Well, I know this guy, let’s call him E, and he has this really creepy and weird skill that freaks everyone out. He counts physiological responses. He’s a total freak. And it doesn’t help that his mercurial ways are off-putting and he’s kind of a jackass, but doesn’t seem to care. If he doesn’t change his ways, I think he is going to die alone. What should I do?”
He chuckled. “Sky, ask your question.”
“Have you heard from Fiona?” The moment I asked the question, I wished I hadn’t.
“Yes.”
“Is she okay?’
“We didn’t talk long; she was still at Quell’s when I spoke to her this morning,” he replied, looking in my direction. He wanted a reaction. I wouldn’t give him one. It had been days since Quell had fed, and I couldn’t help but wonder if he had used her, but I wouldn’t ask Ethan. I knew even if he had the information, he wouldn’t give it to me freely.
“Good.” It was the only thing I could say. There was plenty I wanted to say and many more questions I wanted to ask, all of which would have made that smug look of condescension reemerge. I would go visit Quell later.
I should have just asked my damn questions, because the haughty look was there when he regarded me for a few more moments, but he kept his comments to himself, which looked like a herculean effort.
“The information Chris gave us on the Tre’ases is useless, we can’t find any of them. They’ve all moved.”
“And their ability to change forms isn’t going to make it easy to find them, either.”
Ethan nodded slowly but didn’t offer more. He never just let things go—he was a planner, constantly trying to figure out the next move if things failed.
It wasn’t what was going through Ethan’s mind, but I couldn’t help but wonder who cursed the Tre’ase and why in order to keep them sequestered from the rest of the world. And what was an unchecked, uncursed Logan like?
We drove the rest of the way in silence. Josh and Sebastian were waiting for us when we drove up to the enclave, a section that s
eparated Logan’s home from the rest of the world. Large trees stretched overhead, filtering out the light and darkening the surrounding area. The pathway was cluttered by gravel and sidled by tall grass that was in desperate need of landscaping. I thought with everything that happened he would have moved away from the small, remote cottage tucked away and uninviting to the world. It was concerning that he hadn’t. What were his ties to a place that was his prison?
We headed up the dark path, Ethan and Sebastian in front and Josh next to me I thought about how this could go very wrong. Contrary to what they believed, no one liked when the dynamic trio showed up at their house. They weren’t standing behind the door doing their happy dance that the Midwest Pack’s Alpha, Beta, and witch were coming for a visit, because nothing good ever came from it. That was an “oh crap” moment. But Logan was just a little different than anyone else. We walked up to the door, and he opened it before we could knock. I assumed it was Logan—he didn’t look anything like he had when I first met him. The only things familiar were the odd lavender eyes, which were deep and entrancing. The runes that wrapped around his body and were used to magically bind you into an agreement were covered by a long button-down. His hair was longer and chestnut, different from the cropped dark brown waves that he had before. Wide, defined cheeks and sharp jawline were good choices. He was definitely very attractive. The ability to shift forms was definitely advantageous. I had seen his true form: large maw that protruded and was disproportionate to his face, horns, and a grotesque bestial appearance. This cloak of good looks was deceptive.
A casual smile remained on Logan’s face as he rested against the kitchen counter. His home hadn’t changed from the first time we visited. It was a mélange of modern and cottage-chic that was as dark and eclectic as his personality. Slowly his attention roved over each of us and then rested on Ethan. He pushed himself up from the counter, the spark of interest that captured him when he first met Ethan ignited. Ethan stilled as Logan approached, watching him as carefully as Logan watched him. He stood close, invading Ethan’s personal space. The avid interest remained. His eyes narrowed, the peculiar markings were frenetic as they rolled over his arms. He panted, inching closer, reaching out to touch Ethan, a timid advance at first that became bolder. Ethan caught his arm at the wrist before he could put his hand on him.
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