Devin leapt from his chair, sending it backward. It slammed to the floor. “Is this what this is about? You’re questioning my right and claim to the powers.”
Tristan’s face reddened and he gripped the armrests. “My family has stood firm in our belief all these decades. We still believe that Arnou won the Pack in total as a result of the Great Fallout.”
“Wrong. Caedmon won.”
“By sheer numbers Caedmon scored in that aspect, but William II went down first. He fell first. Rodolphus succumbed weeks later.” Spittle flew from Tristan’s lips. “Rules are kill an Alpha and inherit everything he owns.”
The veins on Devin’s neck stretched taut as anger rumbled through him. “Rodolphus’s son forfeited all claims to anything when he broke off and started his own Pack. William’s son rose. That made it final.”
“No!” Tristan shot up out of his chair.
Devin’s canines dropped through his gums instantly, and he held his position. Only a couple feet separated them, but he felt their rage combining and fueling the animosity in the room.
“You’re a little tardy to the challenge, huh? Darius had more balls than you when I rose to Alpha five years ago.” Devin slowed his words to make sure his inquiry was clear. “What are you trying to accomplish this late in the game?”
Tristan growled between clenched teeth. “Step down with your tainted blood. It will only hurt our chances of existence in the future. You’re right. I let you reign all this time. Your people are crumbling around you as an inferior force threatens to destroy not only Caedmon, but also the Arnou. You are Alpha but I’m King. And until you prove your worth, you remain a pawn.”
The man’s assessment struck a chord in Devin’s soul, injecting him with doubt, but he wasn’t about to let it control him. “Who are you to talk about worth? Tristan Arnou—the man who killed his father and is now filling his position. Step down with your treacherous ways. These bad actions will only make you look like a cheat now and in the future.”
Tristan picked up the table and slung it against the wall. The chessboard cracked into two pieces and shattered across the floor.
Only a foot separated them. Heat engulfed them. Their Wolf Spirits whipped around them. Devin held his in check, but he wanted to shift and rip a hole in this bastard’s chest.
“Alpha!” One of his guards burst through the door. “We heard the—”
Tristan whipped up his palm toward the guard. “Get out!”
When the guard was out of sight, Devin said, “I’m not going to battle you over a game of chess. That’s not my style. I much rather duke it out on the battlefield. It’s in our nature to thirst for blood. Isn’t that what you said, Tristan?”
Since the start of their meeting, Devin was itching for the other wolf to say something—anything. Tristan Arnou was speechless. It was an odd reaction from Tristan after all the numerous sly remarks he dished out. Tristan wouldn’t even meet his gaze.
“Thanks for the dinner,” Devin said and then turned to leave. He glimpsed his gold king piece beside the door just as he was about to cross the threshold. “This meeting is over.”
“This is not over,” Tristan said, feigning calm serenity.
Devin picked up the king piece from the ground and sat it in the middle of the entryway table. “Pick yourself up off the ground. Think about your high aspirations.” He turned his head to see his opponent shaking. “Don’t send your Elites or your Enforcers behind me. Bring only yourself. This is a word-of-mouth invite. I won’t send a nice note via messenger asking for your attendance at a dinner. Think hard. If you want what I have and think you can stand up to me, I dare you to come and try to take it.”
Chapter Fifteen
“Somehow I don’t think this is a good idea.” Naomi accepted Blake’s help out of the car and then looked over his shoulder toward the drab storage building behind them.
Apparently this was the place where they’d kept Mr. White Cap after his capture. Blue Hills was known for its industrial-like feel. Trains and big tractor trailers venturing through here was a normal occurrence. The setup around the place made the industrial warehouse look similar to the others around it, but on the inside it was nothing more than a private holding cell.
“What are you having second thoughts about?” His arms went around her waist to pull her closer.
“I just have this feeling, that’s all.” She shrugged. “Meeting your Pack brothers under these circumstances wasn’t quite how I wanted it to go down.”
The inner corner of his eyebrows slanted downward and he frowned. “The last thing I want you to feel is uncomfortable. Do you want to leave?”
It was like Blake to want to fix everything and make everyone happy. That was in his nature. Even when they were together in the Arnou village, he was the reconciler when their friends’ arguments escalated into fights.
“No. I have to start somewhere. As long as you’re there…” Naomi closed the distance between them and kissed him.
They remained in each other’s arms for a long time. Her fingers locked around the back of his neck. His arm encompassed her waist. They were lost in the moment until a motorcycle advanced toward them. The sound of the engine moved closer and she and Blake drew apart.
The man pulled beside them and brought his bike to a halt. He removed the helmet and revealed jet-black hair and smoldering gray eyes. The man exuded so much sexual energy that all she could do was drop her to the ground.
The man slid off his bike and tossed his helmet over the handle bars. “Blake.”
“Jayson,” Blake replied. “We’re right on time. This is Naomi Valentine.”
Jayson assessed her with a dark, probing look and then held out his hand slowly. “J. Truman.”
“Nice to meet you.” Naomi accepted his handshake, noting the heat of his palms. “Aren’t you Blake’s financial advisor?”
Jayson chuckled. “I certainly am. I have been for a long time, but I hear you’ve known Blake a lot longer than I have.”
Naomi exchanged a glance with Blake and reached for his hand. “We go way back.”
“Understood.” Jayson cleared his throat. “Devin hates tardiness. Let’s go inside.”
***
They entered the warehouse.
It was dark with no windows and only the one door. Everything was a shadow, including the five forms standing in the center of the room and the one form sitting. Only three of the hanging lights were working, so she couldn’t see faces, only their backs. They’d entered during a heated conversation.
But all conversation stopped short and eyes fell on Blake, Jayson, and her. Jayson trudged forward and dropped his duffle bag on a table. Blake remained beside her.
Without a doubt the focus was on Naomi. She was an outcast. Member of the rival Pack Arnou for twenty-seven years.
“Blake?” Caedmon’s Alpha, Devin, stepped out of the circle and met them in the center of the room.
“Meet my mate at last. Naomi Valentine.”
Devin frowned and circled her slowly, sizing her up like a sack of potatoes. The hairs lifted on the back of her neck as she sensed the Alpha’s silent apprehension.
“Do you have a problem with me, sir?” Naomi asked, her blunt question surprised her.
“I almost wonder what your agenda is,” Devin inquired.
Naomi cocked her chin toward Mr. White Cap, who was sitting in the chair. His wrists and ankles were cuffed and he was roped to a metal chair in the center of the room. His face, exposed arms, and legs were black and blue, either from the altercation with Blake or otherwise. She knew the man had been in a makeshift cell all night, so it was possible he could have sustained more injuries on the way there or while being detained.
“The man sitting there. I have a vested interest in knowing how he can destroy a Spirit. I got to him first.”
Devin stopped behind her. “And what next? You’ll take this to Tristan Arnou.”
She spun to face him. “I’m without a Pack.”
“Since when,” he demanded.
“Two days ago. I escaped.”
“Why?”
Naomi swallowed and glanced at Blake. He nodded in reassurance.
“I also have a vested interest in Blake DeLuca. I had him first. He may be on your Council, but he’s also my mate.”
Devin’s expression turned blank. “You—”
Suddenly, Blake moved to stand before her. “Enough with her interrogation. The man you want to question is there.” He pointed to Mr. White Cap. “I’ll accept any punishment for seeing my Arnou mate on the sly all these years, but I’m speaking to you man to man now. Anyone that harms her for any reason will pay the price. She is my heart and I’ll die to protect her.”
“No harm, no foul, Blake.” Devin held out his hand and Blake accepted the kind gesture. “I was going to say your mate smells of her Arnou brethren. If she’s freshly removed, the scent won’t go away unless—”
“I know,” Blake replied. “We haven’t bonded yet. Naomi and I decided we want a bonding ceremony. For us it must be a special occasion.”
“And with your sanction, the permission to affiliate with your Pack.”
Devin nodded. “I’d be honored if we held the ceremony on Caedmon lands. My sanction is granted in the meantime.” He glared at her when he gave his next demand, “As a matter of fact, I order you to stay off Arnou territory.”
“My family?” she muttered.
“Her father and brother are in the Compound.”
“If they want out, we can arrange to move them.”
Naomi shook her head. “They would never leave Arnou. There have been differences of opinions regarding Tristan’s policies but like myself, my father and Nathan are very loyal. All their ties—everything they love and have ever known—is within that Pack. I had reason to leave. They don’t.”
“Then let it be.” Devin cut them off with a swipe of his hand. “My meeting with Tristan didn’t go well. Don’t let her out of your sight. I worry what would happen if he learned she stripped her Belt and then he recaptured her. I know you well, and if you thought she was in trouble, you would rush headlong into danger. I can’t risk that.”
Blake shook his head. “I’m not letting that happen but you’re right. If she’s recaptured, I would go in after her.”
“You met with Tristan?” Naomi asked.
“I did. We couldn’t come to an agreement. I didn’t leave the Arnou estate a happy camper, and he made it clear he wants me out of his way.”
“What is it you two were trying to agree on?” Naomi asked, her curiosity rushing to new heights.
Devin sighed. “It’s complicated. More on that later. Let’s finish this so I can make my decision tonight.”
***
“Look at this.” Max, the wolf-shifter who worked as an agent for the FBI, lifted Mr. White Cap’s hair off the back of his neck and pointed to a mark. “The two men who killed Dr. Westcott wore the same symbol.”
Naomi narrowed her eyes and inched closer to take a look. “That is a permanent mark.” Three triangles linked together on the base of his neck. She’d seen it before in a drawing and had heard Enforcers talking about it. They referred to it as they rehashed their accomplished missions to their colleagues.
Max pulled on Mr. White Cap’s hair and forced him to look at Devin. “Tell them what this represents.”
Mr. White Cap spat on the floor. “I told you I wasn’t going to repeat myself, you dumb dog. If you’re going to kill me, do it now.”
Max’s canines flashed, and he whipped the butt of his gun across the man’s face. “I won’t let you off that easy. Either you tell us what we ask or you’ll be locked in that cell forever. This ain’t no regular human jail. You won’t get no special privileges around here.”
Mr. White Cap cursed under his breath. “It don’t matter what I tell you. What’s done is done. Can’t nothin’ be done about this.”
Devin snorted. “Enlighten me. Who leads your group?”
“Our Master Priestess Shanhah.”
All six Council members shared confused expressions. Naomi presumed they had the same question as she did. Who the hell was Shanhah?
“Can you tell us any more about Shanhah?” Devin inquired.
“Only those who succeed during a mission get to meet her in person. I’ve been in the craft for two years, and I ain’t never seen her face.”
“So you fucking follow a leader you ain’t never met?” Max smacked him across the face. “What a dumb piece of—”
Devin held up his hand, requesting Max to put a stop to his antics.
“What does Shanhah want you to do?”
“Bring as many shifter souls as we can to her lair.”
Devin’s eyes widened and he pressed his lips together. A visible lump moved up and down on his throat. “And how many have you taken to her?”
“I told you, dog, I ain’t never seen her face because I ain’t took shit to her yet.”
Devin growled, locked his fingers around the man’s throat, and lifted him chair and all. His growl was as deep as the tension in the room. “I’m a fucking wolf, not a dog. If you want to address me as an animal, get the species right.”
The man’s eyes began to bulge, and his mouth fell open as he fought for oxygen. The veins on his neck darkened, and he jerked against the ropes.
“Devin,” Max warned.
Devin loosened his grip, and the chair crashed to the ground with the man in it. The man howled in pain on impact.
“Now, let’s start again.” Devin rubbed his hands together.
Max set the chair upright and handed a long necklace to Devin. “He was wearing this beneath his shirt.”
Devin held it up to the light. It appeared to be a vial made of some green tinted glass. “What is this used for?”
“A tube. It keeps the Spirits housed until we can get them to Priestess Shanhah.”
“And how do you get the Spirits in here?”
“The victim drinks the poison, and we recite the spell given to us and the Spirit goes in the vial. We have twelve hours to get the vial to her. Without being associated with a body, the Spirit simply diminishes.”
“Interesting.” Devin pulled back slightly. “Why must they drink the poison?”
“Not all of us have the power to restrain a Caedmon while they’re conscious, but sometimes the poison isn’t required. Some of them are so dumb they succumb to the spell. They’re seduced into it. Some of us simply know of Priestess Shanhah because we want to be free of our wolf side.”
Naomi dug her fingernails into the center of her palm. An Other stripped Ruby’s Spirit that night. That would explain why she couldn’t shift.
“What happens to someone when their Spirit is stripped?”
“In a minority of subjects who wanted the change, they didn’t feel a thing until the next day. Like I said, it takes about twelve hours for body and Spirit to realize what’s happened. I guess the time frame depends on how powerful the subject was to begin with since the powers reside with the Wolf Spirit. You live in human forms the majority of the time anyway, so some of you—the ones who don’t shift regularly—won’t realize a damn thing until it’s too late.”
“What does Shanhah do with the Spirits?”
Mr. White Cap grinned, showing a row of missing teeth. “You’ll have to ask Priestess yourself.”
“Where can I find this witch?”
“I’m under an oath of silence. You’ll have to kill me and even then, you won’t get that information from me.”
Devin grinned smugly. “Are you sure of that?”
Mr. White Cap spat on the floor. “Why don’t ya test it?”
Devin looked across the room. “Dawson, how soon can you get Elisa here?”
Dawson snatched a set of keys off the table and plodded toward the door. “I know where she is. It’s just a matter of if she will come.”
Mr. White Cap’s eyes flashed with fear as he looked from one to the n
ext. Naomi wasn’t quite certain what Devin had up his sleeve but she was certain it wouldn’t be good for their captive.
Chapter Sixteen
“Come in.”
Tristan Arnou almost didn’t hear Thibaud Jr. His grandfather had been ill for the past three years, suffering from pulmonary hypertension. The resident doctors had placed him on bed rest for the last six months because minuscule, everyday activities caused him shortness of breath.
As he neared Thibaud’s bed, the nurse on duty confirmed nothing was needed and left. Tristan had demanded around the clock care, but Thibaud insisted this wasn’t necessary.
Tristan sat near the head of the bed. A pitcher of water with lemon and a half-empty glass sat on the nightstand. He filled the glass. “Rachel Nurse says you’ve listened to all the audio books I brought to you yesterday.”
Thibaud’s dark hair had turned silver and grown past his shoulders over the last decade. He never liked to keep it tied back, and he refused to let anyone cut it. His chest rose and fell slowly as he lay on his back. Soft classical music played in the background. He must have been listening to it before Tristan arrived.
“I’ve been bored.”
Thibaud was never the talkative type, anyway, so his disease had nothing to do with his blunt answer. Even when he reigned as Arnou’s Alpha, he was known as the intellectual, silent ruler by his followers.
“The contractor’s finished the new koi pond. Would you like to go see it tomorrow morning?”
“Maybe.”
Tristan noted the blue coloring in his grandfather’s lips and frowned. It always was that way when Thibaud endured too much activity, but that was odd since he’d been in bed most of the day according to Rachel Nurse.
“When was the last time Dr. Napier came by?”
“This afternoon.”
“And his recommendation?”
Thibaud Jr. lifted a finger and pointed to the nightstand. “On the note there.”
Tristan snatched the paper. The writing was scribbled in Dr. Napier’s familiar handwriting. Advanced stage pulmonary hypertension. The notes listed the same medications and recommended dosages as the last one the doctor left. Tristan learned to memorize everything over the years because sometimes Thibaud pretended to forget. His grandfather’s ability to move around as he did in his youth may have been lessened, but his ability to convince and persuade never diminished. But something new that did catch Tristan’s eyes on this note was the recommendation of an oxygen machine.
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