“Morning, Az.” I sit down beside him and run my fingers through the graying fur on his neck. Az is a massive wolf, like me. Sitting here next to him, I can’t believe how much muscle he’s lost. The guy is skin and bone. It kills me.
Az sniffs the air. “Something troubles you. I can smell it.”
Here’s where I should just up and ask him about whether he’s ever thought someone was his mate. But it’s hard. This feels too big. The words weigh on my tongue like stones. Instead, I find myself talking about something else that’s usually too painful. “I was just thinking. I don’t remember my parents.”
“I shouldn’t think you do. You were only a cub when they died.” He doesn’t add in the part about the Denarii killing them. It’s been my life’s mission to pay them back for that.
“I was placed with some random were family. They didn’t want to raise someone else’s cub. Then one day, you walk in, grab me, and go. How did you find me, anyway? You were from Cairo. I was in Manhattan. That couldn’t have been easy.”
Az chuckles. “You’re avoiding asking me your real question.”
I scratch him behind his ears. “I’m working up to it. How did you find me?”
“It wasn’t as hard as you might think. The warden who taught me had passed on, so I knew you were out there somewhere. A cub. I asked around. Who’s the biggest and blackest werewolf out there? Rumors led me to you.”
“And Rui?” That was the warden before Azizi. The guy was from Manchuria. You never know where the next warden will come from, by the way. The magic finds the warden. No one really knows how it chooses.
“Rui did the same thing.” Az lets out little cough. My chest tightens to hear it. Az gets weaker every day. “He asked around for a black wolf who fought well.”
“You and Rui…were you guys close?” I guess it’s a little weird that I don’t know this, but normally when I’m with Az, we don’t talk about his past. He doesn’t like it, as a rule.
Az’s heavy brows pop up. “What’s this sudden interest in Rui? You ready to ask your real question yet?”
“Not yet.”
Az gives me a milky-eyed look that says he knows I’m up to something, but he’ll still play along. “Rui and I were very close.”
“Okay. So werewolf wardens find each other, but none of the others do? I mean, Alec has never met his last warden. Whoever that guy or girl is, they’re still out there somewhere.”
Az sniffs, a sound that says, Really? It’s the noise he often makes when he’s talking about the other magical races. “Warlocks and fairies aren’t like us. They aren’t pack.”
“True that.” Werewolves are driven to attach to a group. We share power. Some mates even share thoughts.
Az twitches his ears. “Are you going to tell me why you’re upset, my son?”
I rub my neck. He’s right. I can’t stall forever. “Here’s the thing. Did you ever feel a mating call?”
“Never.” Az’s answer is swift and without hesitation. Not a good sign for whatever strangeness is going on with my wolf and me.
“Are you sure? Didn’t your wolf ever get confused? Maybe it thought someone was his mate when it wasn’t even possible?”
“No.”
I try another angle. “What about Rui? Did his wolf ever think someone was his mate?”
At these words, my own wolf decides to get into the act. His growling voice echoes through my mind. “Bryar. Mate.”
I close my eyes and reply in my mind. “I know your opinion on this one, buddy.”
“No, no, no.” Az’s voice is getting more clipped, which means he’s not fooling around. “Rui never felt the call for a mate.” Az’s eyes narrow. “Why, did such a thing happen to you?”
I rub Az’s neck like my life depends on it. I have the option of lying right now, but that’s a waste of time. Werewolves can scent an untruth. “Yeah. My wolf thinks so.”
With these words, my wolf decides to go berserk in my head. “Bryar! Yes! Mate!”
“Quiet, you.”
Az shifts to stare directly at me. “And?”
“It’s impossible. Wardens don’t get mates. And even if we did, the girl my wolf picked is a human.”
Az’s milky gaze locks with mine. “I don’t care what she is. Do you know what I’d give for one hour of the feeling that you’re throwing away? We’re pack animals. We want cubs and a family. Don’t ruin this for yourself.”
“I get that we’re pack, but going after this girl? It’s just selfish. I could hurt her. You know wardens can’t mate. And even if we could, the bonding ceremony isn’t an option. Within a day after getting married, our spouses sicken and die.” It’s all part of being a warden. The magic finds you. It also enforces your job. If you aren’t guarding the fountain, you don’t get a family.
“Only if you do a full mating ceremony.”
I shake my head. “If I let someone in my life, my wolf is not going to be happy until we have a mating ceremony. We can’t have cubs without it.”
Az’s long tongue slides across his lips. That’s his “thinking face.” A long pause ticks by before he speaks again. “Let me see your marks.”
Now, all wardens have marks on their backs. They’re like tattoos, but they show up magically when we first get full use of our powers. As we mature, they darken. Mine are hieroglyphs, and they started to appear when I was six. The markings pulse as I get more power, and yeah, I’ve been feeling them more ever since I met Bryar. Still, I’m not ready for more evidence that I should enter into a doomed relationship, especially when it means Bryar could end up dead.
I glare at Az. “My marks are fine.”
Az huffs out a breath, which is his version of a chuckle. “In other words, you won’t show your marks to me because they have changed.”
Again, I’d lie to him, but he’d sniff it out anyway. “They’ve been pulsing lately. That’s all. This mate thing has got me all mixed up.”
“And so, you’ve come to ask me for advice.”
“Yeah.”
“My guidance to you is this. You need to be with your mate. Hunt this girl down. Make her yours.”
My wolf loves this idea. “Yes. Bryar. Mate.”
I’m not so convinced. “Like I said, I’m not sure that’s a good idea. Especially for her.”
Az shifts his weight until he’s sitting sphinxlike on his front paws. “Listen to me, cub. There are three wardens for magic. As of this moment, two of them are within a mile of each other. That’s unprecedented. And I’ll wager the third is near you too, although you don’t know it yet. Whatever you think the rules are for wardens, they don’t exist anymore. Our magic is changing.”
“That’s what Alec says, too. He thinks that the fountain can only be found once every two thousand years, and we’re coming up on that time.”
“Alec could very well be right.”
“I’ve read the passages he translated in the Book of Magic. You could interpret them ten different ways. It doesn’t mean the fountain is returning or magic is changing.”
Az arches his brows. “And is that what you truly believe?”
Times like these, I wish I could lie. “I don’t know what to believe, Az.”
“Because you know Alec speaks the truth. The fountain will return to us. Magic will change. The fact that you’re finding your mate is all part of that. You must go where it leads you.”
I shake my head. “That’s not so easy. There are risks.”
Az lies back down, resting his muzzle on his paws. “Right now, no path will be easy for you. You have two choices. You can follow the magic on this journey willingly, or it will drag you to its chosen destination anyway. At least if you go willingly, there will be less pain.”
“Less pain. Nice.”
“You came here for the truth. Just think on what I said. That’s all I ask.”
“I will. I promise.” Something Bryar said pops into my mind, raising another question I can pose to Az. And right now? Any change of su
bject seems like a great idea. “You still keep your contacts up with the were packs, yeah?”
“I do.”
“Do you know if there are any werewolves who are going to those teen Magicorum groups run by the Denarii?”
“I know of one. She’s a Red Riding Hood template.” Az’s scent changes. Whoever she is, this girl is important to him.
“Pass around the word. Time was, some lower-level Denarii could be trusted. But that’s over now. Make sure everyone knows… Any groups run by the Denarii are unsafe.”
“Are you certain? There has always been a core of Denarii who are evil, but they stay hidden away from the public. The underlings you’d meet in a league building are harmless. Many can be helpful to our kind.”
“Not anymore. The human I was telling you about? She was in one of those groups. The leader tried to kill her.”
“I see.” Az’s upper lip twists into a snarl. “I’ll take care of it.” And I wonder what he really means by that. Az might be old, but when he’s riled up, he can be a badass in battle. “Anything else?”
“No. Thanks, Az.” I give him one last scratch behind the ears. “I’ll be going now.”
“And I’ll be napping until later.”
With that, I leave Az’s place and head back to the bar. My body is so wound up, it’s like I could jump out of my skin. Who knows? Maybe I should find Joy and see if her kissing skills have gotten any better. At this moment, I need any distraction I can get.
With that thought, my wolf totally loses it. He instantly turns into a howling mess inside me. “No Joy. BRYAR ROSE MATE!” Then he lets out a long series of whining noises.
I reply in my mind. “Okay, buddy, I got it.”
“We go. Bryar Rose mate.”
I know what he wants. “Fine, we’ll drive by her place. But that’s all we’ll do. Better?”
“Mate, mate, mate.”
When my wolf starts repeating stuff over and over, it means only one thing. There won’t be any peace for me tonight. I need to drive by Elle’s place, since I know that’s where Bryar is staying. There was a café across the street from her brownstone. Maybe I can put the Mustang in a lot, grab some java, and keep an eye on her place. As I contemplate this plan, I must admit, my wolf isn’t the only one who’s pumped for this idea. Once I’m closer to Bryar, I know I’ll feel a lot better, too.
Chapter Eleven
Bryar Rose
I check my watch. Or, I check the amazing smart watch that Elle loaned me for this morning. It’s now Friday morning, a little before 10 a.m., and Elle and I are off to our internship at LeCharme.
Strolling side by side, we stride along Sixth Avenue. Early morning sunshine glints off the skyscrapers as we make a beeline for the LeCharme Building. Around us, the city is alive with motion. Someone in a yellow taxi slams on its horn. Up ahead, a young guy plays drums on a row of buckets. A street vendor sells hotdogs for breakfast. I love New York.
Turns out, Elle and I slept most of Thursday away. When we finally did wake up, we spent the time watching old movies and avoiding too much talk about Knox and Alec. I told Elle the whole story of how Knox saved my life, followed by his nasty behavior on the drive back. We both agree that he’s not boyfriend material. Elle says that Alec is a flirt who’ll never commit to anything, although she did appreciate the backrub and general concern for her well-being.
We then spent a good chunk of time insisting to each other that we aren’t into those guys. And we mean it, too. The only reason we’re walking over to LeCharme right now is because of the internship. Not the guys. Maybe.
Elle and I approach the LeCharme entrance. The first floor of the building is all retail space. In other words, it’s one huge jewelry store. The upper levels are the business offices, and that’s where our internship will take place.
Pausing, I scope out our reflections in the outer plate glass windows and smile. Damn, we look good. Both Elle and I are dressed in black suits and heels. Luckily, Elle had a few Armani suits ready to go in her closet, and the two of us are the same size. I guess she got them for some scam that never took off. As always, I didn’t ask too many questions.
I elbow Elle and gesture to the window. “Hey. We look totally awesome.”
Elle glances up from her phone. No question what she was doing just now. Ever since they met, Elle and Alec have been texting nonstop, supposedly about the internship. Elle says it’s all professional. Still, she keeps blushing her face off whenever they text, so I know Alec’s flirting with her. By the way, Alec said for us to dress in jeans today, but I found a LeCharme fan site that said all the full-time employees wear black suits.
Elle and I want to look full time and badass. We’re wearing black suits.
Finally, Elle looks up from her phone. “What?”
“I said, we look amazing.”
She pauses and checks out our reflection, too. The black outfit sets off her big blue eyes, long blonde hair, and toned legs. In fact, we look a little like sisters, only my hair is brown. She links arms with me. “We’re totally ready for this.”
“You got it.”
“Only…I wish I had a briefcase.”
“Why? We don’t have anything big to carry.”
“I know that. It’s just I’ve seen some really cute leather ones that would totally go with this look. They even have little bows on them.”
“Something for next time,” I say, as I wonder how exactly Elle plans to get her hands on those particular bags. I’ve seen them in magazines. They run four grand a pop.
Again, something I’d rather not know.
We pass through the revolving door and enter the main sales floor of LeCharme. Everything here is pale purple—that’s the company’s signature color. A maze of waist-high glass cases stretches out before us. The place is pretty busy with customers, sales clerks, guards, and…
Oh, no.
One particular guard. We call him Comb-Over Guy.
I grab Elle’s shoulders and point her toward a nearby wall. My death grip on her suit makes it clear there’s a problem, so Elle doesn’t fight me at all. When she speaks, her voice is barely a whisper. “What’s up?”
“Remember when we came in here over the winter?”
“The time I took the tiara?”
“No.”
“Emerald ring set?”
“No.”
“Diamond jaguar pin?”
“No!” I frown. “Do we really hit this place that often?”
“Sha.” She snaps her fingers. “The ruby chalice.”
“That’s the one. We were all dressed up for a party, but we ran into that guard we called Comb-Over Guy and then…” I leave it out there, as the memory should be obvious at this point.
“No, I don’t remember.”
“You thought he was about to grab you, so you maced his face off.”
“Oh, yeah. Comb-Over Guy.” Elle taps her chin. “He’s here?”
“About four yards behind us.”
Elle’s big blue eyes narrow. She’s scheming up something; that’s for sure. “And where do we have to get to?”
“The employee elevators at the back wall.”
“So why don’t we just walk by him?”
“Because he said that if he ever saw us again, I quote, ‘I’ll call the cops first and ask questions later.’” I lower my voice. “We’re trying to look cool and make a good impression.”
“Got it.” Elle smacks her lips, which means scheming time is over. “Here’s the plan. You’re good with me setting the plan, right?”
“Please.” I roll my eyes. “You always scheme when we’re avoiding trouble. It’s your gift.”
“Right. So this is it. We walk casually toward the back elevators.”
“Not a great plan. He’ll see us.”
“Wait, there’s more. As we step on by, we just keep our bodies angled toward the wall, like we’re looking at the décor or something. That way, we can waltz right over to the elevator bank without sh
owing our faces to anyone.”
“That would be a good plan.”
“It’s an awesome plan.”
“But there’s nothing on the walls here, Elle. We’d look totally suspicious.”
“Ugh.” Elle groans. “You’d think LeCharme would have enough money to buy a freaking picture. Sheesh.”
“Maybe we pretend we’re like, interior decorators, sizing the walls up for future artwork.” Elle and I always pick out personas before we launch into a scheme like this one. You’d be amazed how useful it is.
“Perfect.” Elle scratches her cheek and discreetly glances over her shoulder. “Let’s go.”
We start a slow stroll by the far right wall. Elle makes comments about how some impressionist paintings might look great here. I totally agree with her. My imagination starts to run wild. Is that guard following us? I don’t want the cops to haul us out of the building on our first day. I mean, chances are it will happen eventually, but I’d like to ease Knox and Alec into the whole mania that is Elle and me.
Not that I care what those guys think, of course.
At last, we make it to the bank of elevators. There are four sets, all of which go up to the fortieth floor. I hit the Up button, try to look cool, and ask Elle a question from the corner of my mouth. “Is he coming?”
“Oh yeah.”
I risk a glance over my shoulder. Sure enough, Comb-Over Guy is hauling ass in our direction, and he does not look happy. Yipes. Nothing like getting maced in the face to make an impression. The dude is within a few yards of us when the nearest elevator opens up. Folks in black suits spill out into the foyer. A second elevator slides open right behind it. Only one guy gets out.
“There!” I point to the second elevator. “Let’s make like New Yorkers.”
“Right.”
Now, Elle and I are experts in the intricate dance of hip-checking and shoulder-bumping that makes life in New York bearable. Luckily for us, Comb-Over Guy isn’t as aggressive. He gets caught in the crowd of workers while we slip into the second elevator and hit the button that’s marked “Tenth Floor Reception.”
Wolves and Roses Page 10