“Are you done?” I tapped my foot. “Can we get to the binging now?”
He mimed zipping his lips.
We entered the office, and I ducked my head into the exam room. Enzo held Zed’s left arm out, flexing it at the elbow while Abram nodded in agreement with whatever he’d said. They gestured Moore closer, and I popped back into the hall. I got the feeling that bone had healed wrong, and they were about to break and reset it. Zed almost ruptured my spleen the last time I played orthopedic nurse. Tonight those guys could take the beating. That way, once it was over, I could sweep in with a few days’ old cupcake, play the BFF card and kick them to the curb.
I went to start the coffee then unlocked Cord’s office door and led Isaac into the alpha’s inner sanctum. I took the chair behind the desk while he sank into the one opposite me. The phone sat on the blotter where I had left it, and the cupcakes sat beside it. I flipped open the box and counted the remains before setting one aside for Zed. The rest could wait for coffee. Coffee forgave a multitude of sins, including staleness.
“Let’s hope I don’t get punted to voicemail again.” I punched in the digits then settled in to wait. A light flickered on the answering machine, but I couldn’t play the messages while the line was in use. “Looks like she might have called back. We must have missed each other.”
Cam answered on the first ring. “Ellis.”
“Hey.” I picked at the frosting on one of the pastries. “I tried you earlier but—”
“Dell,” she breathed. “Thank the gods.”
The rush of her voice didn’t override the sense of foreboding slithering across the line. “What’s wrong?”
Across from me, Isaac sat up straighter.
“Listen to me. You’ve got to—”
The blistering cry of the wards around the RV park rose in a painful crescendo. I strained to hear what Cam was saying, but the noise blotted out her words.
“Stay by the phone,” I yelled into the receiver. “I’ll call you right back.”
Isaac had clamped his hands over his ears, and I did the same once I hung up on Cam. We passed Abram, Enzo and Moore in the hall. The witch noticed Isaac and gestured him closer.
“Take my blood,” he called out. “Use my magic to silence the alarm.”
Eager to make the racket stop, Isaac unsheathed his spur and pierced Enzo’s palm. Seconds later, a sheen of magic glistened on his fingers, and he flicked that power in the air while murmuring an incantation in a language unfamiliar to me.
Blessed silence fell around us, and I stuck my fingers in my ears and wiggled them. “Enzo, was that for the lake or the RV park?”
“The higher frequency is specific to the park.” He closed his eyes then grimaced, opening them to wipe a smear of blood from under his nose. “Isaac, follow the thread of my magic. Tap into the wards and see if you can sense where the intruders are.”
As confident as Haden had sounded, it appeared one of his trows had broken free of the pack and circled back to us.
Isaac did as he was instructed, his eyes glazing over as his arm outstretched toward the south. “There.”
“Moore, Isaac, you’re with me.” I indicated the office. “Abram, we can handle this. You go back in to sit with Zed.” I gripped Enzo by the arm and shoved him toward the doctor. “And take that one with you before his brain springs a leak.”
Moore and I followed Isaac to the rear of the property where a small gathering milled outside the wards. I counted seven fae total. Five were alkonosts in their natural, feathered state. The other two appeared to be human, even as their otherworldly scents raised my hackles.
The man, who smelled of bergamot and patchouli, wore a fitted T-shirt over jeans and work boots. Mahogany curls swept across his forehead, and his copper eyes gleamed in the moonlight. A gold badge identifying him as a marshal with the Southwestern Conclave hooked onto his belt. Beside him stood a more familiar figure. The presence of an ally ought to have comforted me, but Thierry’s blood-and-death fragrance flattened my inner wolf’s ears against her skull.
“Hey, Thierry.” I waved to the others. “Hello, other people.” I frowned at the gathering. “It’s late for visitors.”
“This isn’t a social call, Dell.” She glanced at the man beside her—her partner maybe? This close I noted their scents mingled. Mates. She had brought her mate with her. “Prince Tiberius of House Seelie was kidnapped tonight.”
“No, he wasn’t.” I heaved a sigh of relief. “I returned him to his aunt a few hours ago.”
The fine-boned woman in the center of the flock of alkonosts pointed a hooked fingernail at me and screeched, “She admits her treason.”
“What treason?” Bewildered, I looked to Thierry for an explanation.
“Tiberius was granted a sort of temporary visa, the kind visiting dignitaries are issued. He came here with his mother, Galina—” she indicated the still-pointing bird-woman, “—his father, Paavo—” who required no introduction as the only other male present, “—and his guards. Except…Tiberius sneaked out of his room and vanished his first night here. House Seelie has been searching for him for weeks.”
Meaning he got here without using the rift. The only way Tiberius had ended up so close to it was if he had bailed on his parents, ducked back into Faerie to pick up Leandra, and then settled on the edge of Lorimar territory.
“Rilla showed up with her entourage earlier today and demanded we find him and return him or else.” I found myself bracketed by men, Isaac stepping up to my left and Moore to my right. “We did as they asked. We located him in a house outside town and convinced him to return home. He went with his aunt of his own free will.”
“No.” Galina blanched. “I won’t believe a word she says. He would never— No. He is a prince, and he would not bow to her demands.” She jutted out her chin. “I want this mongrel arrested. I want her brought to justice.”
At the mention of justice, those creepy runes covering Thierry’s skin ignited. She rubbed her other hand down her arm, but the pulsating emerald light cast shadows around us.
“I’m not fae,” I protested. “You can’t have me arrested.”
“Your alphas signed a treaty before entering the Gathering that holds all parties equally responsible for their actions for and against the other allied members. Your pack is now punishable under fae law.” Her eyes glinted, chips of black ice. “You are paid contractors, hardly better than slavering beasts, and you can be brought to justice should you break the laws you are sworn to uphold.”
The way she phrased it made us sound deputized. Was that what Cam had been trying to tell us?
“Sworn to—? No. There was no swearing.” I hesitated a beat. “Except to my alphas.”
“Speaking of your alphas—” Galina began.
“No.” Thierry pointed a rune-covered finger at the alkonost. “The alphas were both involved in tonight’s debate. They have had no contact with the outside world for twenty-four hours. Nothing that transpired tonight can be laid at their doorstep.”
“As you say, daughter of the Black Dog.” The woman dipped her head in a slight bow as if accepting a ruling. “However, I will see this one punished, or I will withdraw my support from the Gathering.”
“Thierry?” I croaked.
“I’m sorry, Dell.” Her earlier rubbing had escalated to scratching her arm. “Tiberius was granted protection under conclave law when he was given permission to enter this world. Under the Gaian Treaty, which both your alphas signed, your actions tonight are punishable by…me.”
Head spinning with grim possibilities, I let the guys prop me upright with pressure from their shoulders. “What does this all mean?”
“It means…” Thierry stepped as close to the wards as she dared. “Dell Preston, the conclave bids you come with me of your own free will to stand trial for aiding in the abduction of Prince Tiberius of House Seelie.”
“And if I refuse?”
Magic-fueled wind swirled around her, whipping
black hairs in her face. The runes on her arms shimmered and pulsed. I tasted copper and my own death in the back of my throat.
“Trust me.” The dark light throbbed from her runes to match the cadence of her speech. “You don’t want to do that.”
I was afraid she’d say that.
Wolf at the Door
Gemini, Book 5
Wolf at the Door Blurb
Gemini, Book 5
Prison is no one's idea of a good time, and it's even worse for Dell. Confinement has her inner wolf snarling as she paces the cell, and there's no end in sight. Just as she reaches her breaking point, the pack liaison shows up with an offer she can’t refuse. Dell’s freedom in exchange for going to Faerie and recapturing the fae prince responsible for her current digs.
But this fool's errand won't be a solo mission. Isaac Cahill has lost Dell twice, and he’ll be damned if she slips through his fingers again. This time, he’s not letting her out of his sight. Even if it means earning more than a few love bites from his pissed-off she-wolf.
What they discover on their perilous quest is that war is closer than anyone imagined. As trusted allies fall and dangerous new threats emerge, Dell discovers one defining truth. Isaac is hers, and she'll fight to the death for him. And, at the rate this war is coming, she might not have long to wait.
Chapter 1
Bare feet slapping against the polished concrete floor of my prison cell, I stalked the perimeter of the six-by-eight box, the wolf a feral presence beneath my skin. Magic pulsed around us, thick as molasses and just as hard to swallow. Each spike hammered my dominant other half into submission, caging me in human form. If the conclave thought this shape made me any less dangerous, any less wolf, I would educate them. The wolf bared gleaming teeth in my mind, and my lip quivered in agreement. A low but steady growl pumped through my chest to spike the air with our combined fury.
A faint rasp perked my ears, and I went hunting-still.
Hinges sighed in warning in the distance, and heavy footsteps peppered the long hallway leading away from gen pop to the reinforced cells in solitary confinement. Foot traffic in restricted areas was kept light. Most guards walked their rounds, peeped into each box to check that its occupant hadn’t checked out ahead of schedule, and then left. This one stopped right in front of my door, four inches of cool metal his only protection against my simmering temper. Tension rippled along my spine, fur brushing the underside of my skin, and my jaw ached where fangs speared through my gums.
The magic of the prison might keep the wolf leashed, but she was nowhere near tamed.
Metal squealed in protest as the observation window cranked open, revealing a large man with flat eyes that had seen too much to be impressed with little ol’ me. “Miss Preston, I’m about to open this door, and then me an’ you are gonna take us a walk. That sound all right to you?”
“Sure.” The correctional officer must be a few bars short of a cell if he thought I had any real say in the matter. “Where are we going?”
“Somewhere that’s not here.” The cover thunked back into place, and the door wheezed open. The officer, T. Littlejohn according to his badge, pointed a crooked finger down the hall. “Ladies first.”
Smart man, not turning his back on me. The wolf approved of his caution. Me, I wouldn’t have minded an excuse to misbehave. I hadn’t shifted in two weeks. Two. Weeks. I hadn’t seen the sun in that long, either. Not since I kicked a guard so hard in the junk he sprouted a second set of tonsils.
“Can’t you give me a hint?” I fluttered my eyelashes at him. “Just one clue.”
“No.” He shut down my flirting cold. Guess he wasn’t interested in having his voice boosted an octave. “I have my orders.”
Giving him up as a lost cause, I started walking, enjoying the excuse to stretch my legs. I kept up a brisk pace that forced him to lumber faster or get left in my dust.
The gunmetal-gray interior of the Macon Correctional Facility located in not-so-scenic Wink, Texas, inspired depression. All its surfaces were polished concrete or corroded steel. This end of the facility was dedicated to diurnal fae, not that it made much difference thanks to the absence of exterior windows. I counted the cells we passed on the right-hand side to get an idea of how deep the hole was where they had thrown me. The wolf was not to be distracted with silly concepts like numbers. She was otherwise occupied with cataloguing scents and determining the best strategy to take Littlejohn down if he presented us with an opportunity. She might approve of his caution, but he had jailed us. She wanted out, and she would go over, under or through him to get free.
We hit a set of bars anchored into the ceiling and the floor, and Littlejohn used a key to pop open a clear plastic case mounted on the wall. He mashed the grimy red button it protected then locked it back. A section of the grid slid aside on an automated track, and we entered a cramped holding pen. A clang announced we were now locked in the six-by-six space. Littlejohn pressed another button, and a second door opened. I rushed forward to find myself trapped in another cube. We rinse-repeated two more times until the next shuffle spat us out into a hallway lined with doors and upholstered in industrial carpet the same dull gray as the rest of the place.
The wolf in me sat up and twitched her ears. This section was too clean for inmates to have regular access. This must be the admin area or maybe the portion visible to the public. Visitation maybe? That would explain my summons. Though so far I hadn’t been allowed any visitors. Why was today any different?
“This is our stop.” A keypad mounted on the wall flashed at us, and he inputted a code. A buzzer sounded overhead, and a nearby door popped open a few inches. “In you go.”
Three things happened at once. The scent of my old pack, the Chandler pack, hit my nose. Adrenaline dumped in my veins, revving my inner wolf’s fight-or-flight reflex. And I punched Littlejohn in the face.
Guess she had chosen fight over flight. Why was I not surprised?
He cupped his bloody nose. “What the hell did you do that for?”
“I’m not going in there.” My former alpha, Bessemer, had tossed me out on my ear months ago and made it clear if our paths crossed again, it would be for the last time. Whoever was in that room stank of him, of my old pack, of my old life, and the wolf foamed at the mouth in desperation to break out of my skin. “Take me back to my cell.”
I was Lorimar now. Not Chandler. Though I bet my old alpha would just love to scoop me up and punish me for daring to survive, for having the gall to thrive, without him. How had he gotten in here? Where were Cord and Cam? The conclave couldn’t render judgment against me without my alphas present.
The guard lowered his hand and snarled at me. “Woman, don’t be so damn hardheaded.”
Littlejohn caught me by the upper arm when I spun away from him, and yanked my back to his front. I proved his assessment was correct by throwing my head back and cracking my skull against his already tender nose. His bellow of rage caused even my wilder half to pause and consider whether that had been a smart move on my part.
The weeks of confinement must have warped my brain. Rather than tuck my tail like a smart wolf, I took a defensive stance and bared my teeth. Hey, I wasn’t beta of the Lorimar Pack for nothing. Part of my charm was not knowing when to quit, and I had a feeling Littlejohn was about to educate me.
With a roar, he flung out his arms, and a massive stone beast split out of his skin. Thick granite wings sprang from his back to clog the hallway and block my escape, and I bet a dollar I could bounce quarters off his rocklike skin. The last time I’d seen something this hideous…
Nix that. I had never seen anything so grotesque.
“Fall off your perch, gargoyle?” I gave him a critical once-over. “You must have hit every branch of the ugly tree on the way down.”
A vicious rattle shook his chest, and he lunged. I whirled aside at the last minute, in a fair impression of a bullfighter if I do say so myself. Except he wasn’t half as slow as a creature made of rock
ought to be. He caught himself on the wall, claws sinking in and crumbling the painted cement blocks. He lashed his tail—where had he hidden that?—and knocked my legs from under me. I hit the carpet flat on my back, and he landed in a crouch over me with one massive palm encircling my throat.
“Is that all you’ve got?” I choked out. “I know a monolith who could kick your mossy ass.”
“What in the world is all the ruckus?” a stern voice creaked. “Adele Merriweather Preston. What are you doing under there?”
I tipped my head back as far as Littlejohn allowed. “Meemaw?”
All four feet and no inches of her towered over me. With her silvery hair secured in a braid that hung over her shoulder, and her flowy dress three decades out of style, she resembled a saintly grandmother more than the villainous wolf from the fairy tale. But I knew better.
Meemaw anchored one tiny fist on her narrow hip and swung her cane with the other. Lips pursed, she whacked Littlejohn between the shoulders. Before he got the chance to get mad about it or I got an opportunity to laugh in his face, she clocked me upside the head.
“Both of you get up.” Disgust curled her upper lip, and she waggled the old hickory stick at us. “Dell, I raised you better than this. Go for the eyes. The soft meat. Your head is as hard as a rock, but it’s not actually stone like his. He could have hurt you faster than you could heal.” Aborting her lesson, she turned her sour mood on Littlejohn. “Officer, your job is to keep inmates in line, not roll around on the floor with them.”
Thanks to his unexpected shift, Littlejohn was forced to clamber off me and stand naked before her. His cheeks burned, but he wasted embarrassment on her. Meemaw had seen enough sausage in her life to give Jimmy Dean a run for his money. That part, and it was massive, she ignored.
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