by Eileen Wilks
Claire had always been restless, too. She’d grown up in the circus and was used to constant travel, but the mate bond wouldn’t allow that. Not unless Benedict went with her. He’d gone with her as much as he could, but she’d hated knowing her freedom was forever limited by what he agreed to do.
The bond also meant that she couldn’t marry. Ever. Wildly unconventional in so many ways, his Claire had wanted marriage, wanted it badly.
The coastal road had been slick with rain that night. Claire had been furious, frantic. And pregnant.
They’d fought when she told him. At least, she had. He’d tried to calm her down, but as usual, that only infuriated her. There was no guarantee he’d be able to give her a baby himself, so in spite of his sorrow that this baby wasn’t his, he could rejoice that she would have a child of her own. He would gladly raise it with her.
That wasn’t what she wanted. He wasn’t sure she’d known herself what she wanted from him by then. Jealousy, maybe. She would have understood that. Or maybe she’d wanted exactly what she said she did. The demand she’d hurled at him had been simple enough: Marry me or get out of my life.
He couldn’t do either one. And she couldn’t understand why. Why couldn’t he thumb his nose at the “lupi don’t marry” dictum? Hadn’t she thumbed her nose at everyone by taking up with him in the first place?
By then he’d been tired of explaining. Tired of her irrationality, her refusal to believe him or accept the reality of the bond. When she’d flung herself out the door and into the jazzy little convertible he’d bought her for her birthday, he hadn’t called her back.
She’d died on the operating table.
As they left the nursery, a big yellow Lab came romping up, trying to coax them to play. Arjenie laughed and rumpled his ears, which reduced him to bliss. Benedict introduced them.
“Mondo?” Upon hearing his name, the dog immediately plopped down and offered his belly for a rub. She grinned, bent down, and complied. “What a perfect name for this big guy. He’s huge, all right. Though I don’t think he fits the Spanish meaning of ‘clean.’ ”
“You know a lot about the meanings of names.”
“It’s sort of a hobby of mine. My name doesn’t have a meaning.”
Startled, he said, “None?”
“Not in our realm, anyway. It comes close to a lot of words or names in various languages, but I’ve never found an exact match.” She straightened, much to Mondo’s disappointment. “Just before he left, Eledan told my mother that if she did bear his child she was to name it Arjenie if it was a girl, Arjana if it was a boy. She always said it was a good thing I turned out to be female. Can you imagine naming some poor boy Arjana?”
“She named you to please your father?”
Arjenie looked wistful. “I don’t know. Eledan told her that names affect the sidhe in ways they don’t affect humans, and that seems to be true. Mom said she didn’t know enough to name me properly herself, while Eledan had had a great deal of practice naming his babies.”
He’d touched her cheek before he had time to remember that touching her was a bad idea. Her skin was so soft. He stroked his thumb across that warm, smooth skin. “That makes you sad.”
“It made her sad. Not all the time, but sometimes. Sometimes I’d see her sitting quietly, looking out the window, and I knew she was thinking of him. Remembering. Wanting him to come back, even though she knew he wouldn’t stay. But he—he’d told her he’d come back one day. Not right away, because he was a foolish and distractible fellow. Those were his words, and when he said it he laughed in this way that always made her smile when she told the story. She wasn’t to expect him on any particular day, for he was blasted if he could see how anyone knew what they’d do tomorrow, much less a year or ten from now. But one day he’d come back to check on her.” She swallowed. “He did, too. He came to check on her … two years after she died.”
He kissed her.
There was no thought to it, no plan, no reason. And every reason. She jolted when his lips touched hers, then went still. He kissed her softly, learning the taste and feel of her mouth, and then he made another mistake. With his lips touching hers, he breathed deeply of her scent.
Fire leaped in him, and need—need so strong it made his breath jerk in his throat and almost, almost, made him reach for her with his hands as well. But some dim remnant of reason told him that if he did that, he wouldn’t stop.
And he had to stop. His head was light and empty, dizzy with hunger, when he lifted it, breaking the kiss. Her hands clutched his arms. She looked as undone as he felt.
“What …” She stopped. Swallowed. “What was that? I mean, I know it was a kiss, but it was—I never—”
“A summary,” he told her, his voice hoarse. “You’ll get the full report soon, but right now we both have to settle for a summary.”
She shook her head. “You’re not making sense. You aren’t … you can’t do a glamour, can you? Like the sidhe?”
Like her father had done to her mother, she meant. He looked at her wide, wary eyes, and sorrow took him by the throat and shook him like a terrier shakes a rat. “No.” He forced that word out, then found a few more. “We’d better get back. Sun’s on its way down. Rule and Lily will be here soon.”
“Okay.” But her brows remained pleated in a small, worried frown. “Are they going to answer some of my questions?”
He managed a wry smile. “I don’t know. Can you wait until tomorrow to have them answered?”
Her chin tilted up. “I can. I don’t want to.”
When he held out his hand she looked more worried than shy. She hesitated for several long heartbeats. But she did take it.
His stolen time was ending. He’d known that it would. The sweetness of their afternoon together was marred now by all he wasn’t telling her. And she sensed that.
Tonight, then. He would tell her tonight. But he would make it clear that if she couldn’t tolerate the bond, there was an alternative. Not a good one, but sometimes all the choices were ill.
If everything went to hell, Benedict would release Arjenie in the only way he could. It was not a solution he liked, nor was it without risk for her. But if she grew frantic and miserable and dangerous to herself … well, Nettie was an adult now. He didn’t fool himself that she’d understand. She wouldn’t. She’d hurt, and so would his father and brother. But it was his decision to make, not theirs.
There was only one way to dissolve the mate bond, but it was one that lay within Benedict’s power to grant. Death did the trick neatly. Only this time, he wouldn’t be the one death left behind.
TWENTY-SIX
RULE rented a limousine to take them from the airport to Clanhome.
The flight itself wasn’t as bad as Lily expected, probably because she didn’t remember much of it. Nettie loaded her up on painkillers. Getting dressed for it had been a bitch, though. Most of Lily’s tops were tanks and tees meant to be pulled on over her head. That didn’t work now. Rule had bought her some button-down tanks that were much easier to get into, though she still needed help, dammit.
Much to Lily’s surprise, Nettie hadn’t argued when Lily told her she wanted to fly home. Oh, Nettie got her pound of flesh in the form of a promise—Lily was to stay off her feet on the day they traveled, and we’ll see after that—but she didn’t have a problem with the flight itself.
Dr. Skinny had. At first it had looked like he wouldn’t release Lily, but Nettie had handled him. Most patients didn’t have a personal physician in attendance for such a flight, after all. Lily might have felt pretty damn pampered if she’d been able to stay awake long enough.
A personal physician who was also a shaman and could put Lily in sleep whenever she woke up for two seconds. Which she did, because of her bladder. Lily had been jumped in the ladies’ room once and didn’t want to repeat the experience, so she had Rule wake her up a couple times so she could use the facilities on the plane rather than at the airport after they landed.
Most, not all. Some ghosts lasted for days, weeks, even years.
Could LeBron’s ghost have tagged along at thirty thousand feet?
Who knew?
The painkillers started wearing off shortly before they landed. Lily’s arm throbbed as she was wheeled off the plane, then deposited in one of those motorized carts the airports use. But at least she was awake.
No one attacked them. They were met on the other side of security by five Nokolai guards with another wheelchair. Rule had taken her at her word when she said he could guard the hell out of her—and Nettie had meant it when she said Lily was to stay off her feet.
Lily gritted her teeth and put up with it. She hated being treated as incapable of taking care of herself, even if it was true right now. She hated the spectacle of being wheeled through the airport surrounded by bodyguards. Most of all, she hated the idea of anyone else dying because of her. For her.
It was a stretch limo.
That surprised a laugh out of her. It made her think of Grandmother, and that helped her put up with all the assistance Rule was determined to give her. She was capable of walking a few feet, dammit. Admittedly, she was annoyingly weak, but she could walk if anyone would let her do it.
She might have mentioned that a little too vehemently.
“Don’t worry,” Nettie said as she slid into the ridiculously long vehicle. “I’ll have you up and walking. Just not today.”
One of the bodyguards got up front with the driver. The others went with José, who would follow them in his car. Rule managed to climb into the limo while carrying Lily without banging her head or feet on anything, which probably ought to qualify him for an Olympic something-or-other.
He deposited her on the rear seat, then sat beside Nettie on the facing seat. There were pillows she could prop herself up with so she could stretch out without lying down. There was a cat carrier, too, on the floor. Inside, a thoroughly sedated Dirty Harry snoozed away.
“You’re being perfect again,” she told Rule as they pulled away. She gestured at the cat carrier. “Did anyone get hurt?”
“José is sure he can get the blood out of the carpet.”
He wasn’t kidding. She sighed. “I don’t know how Harry will take to Clanhome. It must smell like wolf everywhere.”
“Harry’s tough. He’ll adjust. Besides, Toby will be there.”
She frowned. “Did you tell me that already and I was too doped up to notice?”
“Briefly. You asked if school was out already, but fell asleep again before I could answer.”
“School isn’t out.”
“He’ll be homeschooled for now. At least until we know for sure if she was behind the attack on you.”
Toby wouldn’t like that. Sure, he loved Clanhome. But he also loved school, little though he might admit it. He was a thoroughly social little being, thriving on having lots of kids around, and he was already finding ways to fit in at his new school in spite of the notoriety of being Rule’s son. He’d tried out for soccer and been accepted. He was excited about that, and about the music program at the school. They’d bought him an oboe.
Public school had seemed safe enough. It didn’t matter what enemies Rule might have himself. No lupus would harm a child. But she didn’t play by the same rules. “Toby’s at Clanhome already, then.”
“He isn’t happy about it, but he’s there. If it’s any consolation, he was mollified when he learned you’d be at Clanhome for a time, too. That helped him accept that the threat was serious.”
That was something, she supposed. Another point in favor of Clanhome: her mother wouldn’t be dropping by constantly. It was unfair, but Lily liked knowing her mother wanted to come fuss over her. She just didn’t want her to actually do it.
“Has anyone talked to—” She cut herself off, frowning. If Friar could eavesdrop, she didn’t want to mention Sam and the possibility of having a binding removed. Or did she? Would it matter?
Dammit, her head was still fuzzy from the drugs. And her back ached. Lily used her good arm to prop herself up better—and her other arm yelled at her to be still. She told it to shut up.
“You can have more pain medication,” Nettie said.
“I don’t want it,” she snapped and shifted again, but slowly. This time the pain was more of an annoyed mutter than a shriek, and the new position did support her back better. “Um … was I rude just now?”
“Yes. You aren’t the worst patient I’ve ever had, though.”
Nettie’s voice was dry, but her expression was abstracted, almost uncertain. That was unusual enough to get Lily’s attention. “What is it?”
“You know Arjenie Fox?”
Oh. Lily glanced at Rule. Did Nettie know that Arjenie was Benedict’s Chosen? Or that the woman had sidhe blood? “I’ve never met her in person. I’ve worked with her, but it’s all been by phone or e-mail. I guess I’ll be meeting her soon. She’s staying with Isen, isn’t she?”
Nettie nodded, her lips tight with worry or temper or both. “There’s something Benedict hasn’t told me about her. Something important. I’m not reading between the lines,” she added dryly. “He told me there was, and that he would explain when I was at Clanhome, not over the phone. Security reasons, he said.”
Lily was careful in her response. If Friar’s clairaudience Gift was connected to her, the mantles Rule carried should create a sort of cone of silence. Even she couldn’t spy on someone who carried a mantle. But they didn’t know enough. They couldn’t be sure, so they were being careful. “He talked to you about her?”
“If you mean do I know she’s his new Chosen, the answer is yes.” She glanced at Rule. “You told Lily.”
“I did, yes. Benedict spoke accurately. I’m aware of the information he hasn’t given you, but we’re being careful what we say because there’s reason to suspect Robert Friar is a Listener who is unable to eavesdrop at Clanhome.”
“Friar?” Nettie said, startled.
“You know where and how Benedict first encountered Ms. Fox.”
Nettie nodded, her face tight. “I’m worried. I’m worried about him.”
Sometimes Lily almost forgot that Nettie was Benedict’s daughter—probably because she looked five or ten years older than her father. “I can’t tell you much about Arjenie. She asks good questions. She’s quick but thorough, and probably brilliant in her way. And that isn’t what you want to know, is it?”
“It all helps. All I know about her is what she looks like when she’s unconscious.”
Lily thought for a moment. “I’ve never heard her be bitchy, gossipy, or play the poor-me card. I guess I’d say she’d level. Not unemotional or stoic—just the opposite, really. More as if she got her balance years ago and held on to it.”
Nettie’s mouth curved up, but her eyes were bitter. “That would be a major improvement over Claire.”
“I don’t know much about Claire.”
Nettie shrugged. “I don’t suppose I really do, either. I was just a kid. I liked her when I first met her. She was one of those people who seem twice as alive as everyone else, who make you feel extra alive when you’re around them. She was also a faithless bitch.”
That startled Lily enough that she jolted physically. Her arm flashed a protest from fingers to collarbone.
“Benedict never held that against her,” Rule said quietly.
“I did.” Nettie’s face and voice were stone.
Rule spread his hands. “I was a child at the time, too, so mostly I can only repeat what I’
ve been told, not what I’ve put together for myself. But I believe it to be true. Claire couldn’t accept the mate bond,” he said to Lily. “At one point she tried to break it by sleeping with other men. She told Benedict what she was doing, and why. She didn’t do it to hurt him, but to—as she saw it—save herself.”
“That’s what he believes,” Nettie said. “That doesn’t mean he didn’t hurt.”
“He was upset, yes. That much I did see for myself. But mostly because he feared she would damage herself emotionally, and for no reason, since her attempt would fail. He tried to get her to choose lupus partners because human men wouldn’t treat her well if they saw her as easy. She refused.” Rule looked at Lily. “This was over forty years ago, remember, in the 1960s. Attitudes toward women’s sexuality were changing, but they had a long way to go.”
Lily’s brain was well and truly boggled. “That’s … they discussed it? And his response was to advise her to only sleep with lupi?”
Rule’s mouth quirked up, though his eyes remained troubled. “I’ve recently discovered that I am capable of jealousy. It’s not knowledge I like, but it’s true … of me. I don’t think Benedict is. He’s capable of possessiveness, certainly, but not in a sexual sense.”
“He’s capable of being hurt,” Nettie said gruffly. “She hurt him plenty, long before she nearly destroyed him by killing herself.”
Rule gave his niece a sharp look. “She didn’t kill herself.”
Nettie waved that away. “Maybe, maybe not. I don’t know what was in her head that night, and you don’t, either. Don’t worry. I won’t say that to Benedict. I wouldn’t do that to him.” She broke off, her eyes dark with emotion. “I wasn’t there when she died. You were. I’d gone back to the reservation to stay with my mom. It was the usual time for me to go to her, so I wasn’t there.” She sighed, long and shaky. “You were. I resented that, you know, for a long time. That you were here when it happened, and I wasn’t.”
“I know,” he said quietly, and reached for Nettie’s hand.
She closed her fingers around his. “My mother wouldn’t let me go to him. He was in bad shape, and she wouldn’t let me go to Clanhome and be with him. She thought it would be too hard on me, seeing him like that. She didn’t understand that it was worse, not being there.”