She was just hanging up from whomever she was speaking to when she joined him sitting on the side of the bed. Digging through her makeup bag, she came up with a small silk pouch of jewelry. “Okay, we have a plan now.”
“Do we?” It was hard to think around how suddenly exhausted he was. There was so damn much to consider now. The shiny shit in the pepper was definitely there, and not something to ignore. Someone clearly wanted him dead, even if it wasn’t his brother, and was brazen enough to make an attempt in the palace. His fucking home. Vasi was gonna have a stroke, kittens, and possibly a nuclear meltdown when Finn informed him of this. Provided he could be trusted. At this rate, he couldn’t even trust his best friend, and honestly that hurt more than someone trying to end his life.
“Well, first, they’re sending someone to come collect the food and test it. If it’s poisoned, it’s slow acting or we both would have noticed by now.” She blinked at him meaningfully as she fastened a silver hoop to her earlobe. The fact they weren’t dead was a good sign, apparently. “Whatever it is, we need to figure that out, and the sooner the better.”
“Agreed.”
“Next, you’re gonna get your shit together and dress, we’re going to go on about your regular day.” She spritzed an intoxicating scent on her wrists before fastening on her watch and a bracelet.
There was literally nothing regular about this day. “My… normal day? Are you serious?”
She nodded as she deftly replaced all her belongings. “The cover is you’re showing me around your work.”
The mundanity of it, the audacity of it. Finn was on his feet driving his fingers through his hair as he paced just trying to release some of the anxious tension that was twisting up inside him. “And then what? Your people, whoever they are, send me a new minder at the end of business today? Is that how this works?”
Cora shook her head, shifting around on the bed until she faced him. “Look, I’m the best trained, best armed, and I’m the closest to you we can get right now. There is no one else to send. I asked, and I’m sorry.”
The worst part about that was she seemed to be telling the truth, at least from what he could tell, considering how fluid veracity was where she was concerned. “So… what then? You’re stuck with me?”
The corner of her sexy mouth lifted into a crooked grin, surprisingly affectionate and not at all unkind. “I got the impression you were stuck with me.” Taking his hand in both of hers as he passed by her, she enfolded it in their soft warmth. “I promise I will keep you safe until this is over. You have my word.”
Looking down into her face, she was beautiful, guileless, and his heart truly wanted to believe her, regardless of their past interactions. “No more lies?”
Her flinch at his question was miniscule and fleeting before she nodded. “No more lies.”
Out of options, and all but bruised by the truth pressing in around him, he had no choice but to accept her offer of protection. “I believe you.”
Chapter Five
CORA
For all that Crown Prince Brendan was known widely for his ceaseless carousing and philandering, and less widely for his gambling and other assorted vices, Finn was the exact opposite. His inherent kindness and goodness were practically his brand, on the boards of hospitals, museums, and other shifter charities. His fundraising efforts were legendary and the tour he took her on of his not-for-profit charity, the Society of Angels, in honor of his beloved mother, the late Queen Angelica, showed the breadth of his desire to make the world better for all shifters.
Goddess, the shifter kingdom had wept at her death. An icy road on a dark night, it had been an accident that had devastated a family and the entirety of Therantia. The whole world mourned the loss of a queen, one devoted to her not-yet-teenaged sons and to children everywhere. Her good works lived on through Finn, and yet the memory Cora most associated with her was lemon-lavender tea and shortbread cookies on a Sunday afternoon after Midsummer. Something about teddy bears and fancy dresses with gloves before her feet could touch the floor in the dining room chair. It was hazy and faded with the mists of the intervening decades, but it was warm and the affection it engendered was as fresh as it ever was.
Finn, with his little grins and openly caring nature, had a lot of her in him. He was… soft, but in the best possible way. Gentle, from the way he hugged a child who’d run up to them outside of his headquarters, to the way he squired her about with an arm around her waist and his hands perfectly respectful in their placement at all times.
She, however, was so very not soft. As his sweet nature made itself more evident, it inspired in her a protective instinct that was razor sharp and possibly rigged to blow. She would lay on the wire for this man, not just as a future king, but because of him. He was way more than just a pretty face. The more she got to know him, the more keen the desire to keep him safe had become for her. Maybe that was why she’d been chosen for this assignment, but whatever it was, she would be with him, keep him safe and cared for, until The Morrigan came to take her home.
Not that looking at his pretty face was any kind of hardship for her. With his stupidly broad shoulders, nipped in waist and museum-quality ass, he had a body made for suits, and no matter how many times she saw him, he was always breathtakingly beautiful to look at. Impeccable slate gray worsted weight three piece cut to absolute mathematical perfection, with a white shirt and an amusingly aggressive fuchsia tie, on anyone else it would have been comical, playacting at being an adult, on him, it just worked. He wore a waistcoat as a matter of course, dammit, and it made her knees weak.
“I’m terrible at my job,” she muttered to herself as she watched another dignitary walk away whose name she’d dutifully recorded for later research by her team. For the umpteenth time, she reminded herself that she had no business noticing how sexy his beard was or how unreasonably distracting his luscious mouth was.
“I truly hope not,” he murmured out of the side of his mouth behind a fake grin as he greeted someone else.
Lunch was a prestigious restaurant within walking distance—under guard—of his office, a white tablecloths and taper candles type of affair with a private dining room, and best of all, no cameras allowed.
Cora draped her linen napkin across her lap as the server poured coffee for them. The moment they stepped away, she licked her lips and pronounced, “You do a good job of carrying on your mother’s good works.” The pink flush on his cheeks above his beard was endearing as hell as he pointedly studied the menu, only glancing up at her through his lashes, the action igniting in her a desire to cuddle him close.
Rubbing his beard absently, his lips curled into a small, but genuine grin. “I’m glad you think so. If I can bring half as much light to the world as her, I’ll be happy,” he replied softly.
The urge to reach out and take his hand burned on her fingertips as she curled them into her palms. Just like the memories of her time spent with his mother and her own remained locked behind her lips, forbidden to be shared. She was here for protection, not comfort, and that she had to keep reminding herself was burdensome. “I think you could do that from the throne.”
Eyebrows almost to his hairline, Finn dropped sugar cubes into his cup of coffee, making a point of not looking directly at her. “You’re suggesting treason,” he murmured softly, even though they were alone in the room.
Sitting up straight, she crossed her legs and assumed her most confident pose as she drew her finger around the rim of her coffee cup. He may play the innocent, but he was not a stupid man. Not to mention that her employer had all but explicitly stated the intent was to install him on the throne by any means necessary. She wasn’t here for a coup, but the good of the kingdom was at stake. “I’m not suggesting anything. I’m sure you know keeping you safe from him has but one conclusion. We’re not in a Dumas novel.”
Any commentary he may have had was silenced the moment the doors to the dining room opened, revealing a terribly flustered server, plus two more of
the staff, as well as Finn’s two personal Guards from the Day Watch, Xander and Devon.
“Is there a problem?” he asked, sitting perfectly still as the table in front of them was straightened, another place setting lain down, but no chair.
Xander was the taller of the two guards, willowy thin with wild blond hair styled into unruly spikes over what she assumed to be the standard working uniform of the Royal Guard: gray suit, black shirt and tie, brown shoulder holster and one on the hip for show. Smelled like family, an Avian cousin of some sort. Definitely a Bird of Prey, if his sharp features and unsettlingly piercing gaze were anything to go by. He dipped his head briefly before addressing them. “No, Highness. Your father—”
“Is he alright?” Finn cut him off, blue eyes wide and immediately a bit feral.
Devon, Xander’s partner, put up both hands and stepped back from the rare display of Lupine aggression. He was dark-skinned, Finn’s height so over six feet, and built kind of like Vasily with the wide shoulders and thickly muscled thighs, only with an infinitely more pleasant personality. His easy smile and dark eyes gave him an approachability that Vasi and even Xander lacked. He smelled like family, too, strangely enough, though closer to Xander than her in relation. “Yes, the king is fine. In fact, he’s here.”
“He’s what?” Napkin tossed on the table, Finn was on his feet and buttoning his suit jacket on autopilot she could tell as he approached his Guards. “How— He— How—?”
Cora rolled her shoulders to shake off the rising tide of agitation she felt flowing off him in waves, going to his side and slipping her hand in his. It wasn’t normal protocol, but she felt like he could use the assistance, the desire to comfort clearly winning the day. He immediately laced his fingers with hers without speaking.
Xander’s sharp eyes caught the motion, but here merely looked her over and said nothing else about it. “His Majesty desired an outing, and his nurse agreed. He’d asked after you, and we told him you were here. He took the liberty of ordering for all three of you.”
On cue, more waitstaff appeared with serving carts and domed dishes. Apparently, this was now her new normal. As the table was set, an escalating sense of urgency moved though Finn, translated through his stiffer posture, tighter set to his jaw, damn near crushing grip on her hand. This wasn’t fear, it was nerves.
“Have you never introduced anyone to your father before?” she murmured, doing her best to be out of earshot of his guards as she aired out the conclusion she’d arrived at in her mind as a question.
“Not in this context, no,” he bit out, barely turning his head in her direction.
“I see,” she exhaled. Knowing this next interaction would likely make or break this case, Cora took matters into her own hands. Literally.
Reaching up, she cupped his chin as she shifted in front of him, drawing his anxious blue gaze to hers as she brushed a thumb over his cheekbone. “Cora…”
Ignoring the warning tone, she slowly lifted onto her tiptoes and drew his lips to hers, his hands falling immediately to her waist and sweeping her closer.
Her other hand braced on his shoulder, her eyes fell shut as she brushed her lips back and forth lightly across his. His warm breath on her face made her toes curl and she couldn’t resist the temptation presented by his sexy bottom lip, pulling it between her teeth and tugging gently. His whimper when she did was like a molten fluid, rushing over her, bathing her in slippery liquid heat as she sealed her mouth against his.
He tasted of coffee, warm and sweet, the flavor made her want to melt into his strong arms. It was hard, so fucking hard, not to sink all the way into the kiss, to let her tongue twine with his as she breathed in his quiet groans and sighs, but somehow, she maintained. It wasn’t quite chaste, but delicate, open-mouthed kisses and the occasional nip of his bottom lip were enough to calm him right down. Or at least alter his focus enough to ease his anxiety a bit.
“Goddammit, Cora,” he breathed against her lips, his forehead resting against hers. His voice was soft, blissfully winded as he ran a hand up and down her back. He pressed a kiss to the corner of her mouth, and it was all she could do not to go up in flames around him. His was not the only one whose focus was divided.
Xander clearing his throat theatrically was the next sound she heard, and right before she stepped away from Finn, she met his stormy blue gaze with her own heated gold and smoothed a hand over his lapel. “You’ll be fine.”
She only hoped she could say the same. Theoretically, she should be fine, the glamour strong and intact, with no issues. The problem came in the proximity. Effecting a glamour around family was always a tricky business, requiring both skill and finesse on the part of the witch and the user. All it took was one familiar turn of phrase or mannerism for the whole charade to crumble to dust.
Her father was the king’s chief advisor and closest friend. The king had held her as a baby, hugged her as a child and treated her as family. At least for as long as her own family did. Before… The idea that she’d left of her own accord was a polite fiction that neatly encompassed a terribly complicated situation. It was easier to say she left than to talk about being cast out. Let’s just say Corvids in general have a long memory and excel at holding a grudge. Like as both a faith and a profession. Shaking off the dark thoughts, she figured it was too late to turn back.
That Finn and Brendan didn’t recognize her was not a surprise. She looked nothing like her childhood pictures, with her teeth and broken nose corrected, enough so she could probably disavow them if she wanted. The additional cushion of the witch’s glamour was only to hedge her bets, though only with Brendan, because of her current closeness to Finn. Either way, she was granted the anonymity of a life without a past.
The monarch, though, she could not afford for him to see her true self, because the moment her father became involved, everything about this situation would fall directly to shit. Game face on, she watched as the Guards snapped to attention as the leader of the shifter kingdom His Royal Highness, King Niall, of House Lupine, wheeled into the room accompanied by his nurse, a squat woman in an austere navy blue suit with a face like the business end of a mechanical pencil.
The last time Cora had seen the king in person, he was smiling, hair barely tinting silver at his temples, summer weight suit, still on his feet, at her high school graduation party. A private family affair, more adults than children, it was a way for her father to show her off, his last child out of the house and successfully into an Ivy League school, on an equestrian scholarship to Cornell. She was the picture perfect daughter of a diplomat, effortlessly straddling the human and shifter worlds and showing her family in the best possible light.
What she remembered most from the day, however, was that King Niall hugged her. Touching royalty was forbidden, generally speaking, especially the King and Queen. The queen hadn’t been as strict about it, because Cora and her siblings had been children, but the king? Outside of the general understanding of childhood exuberance, no. His affection that day traveled with her through the years.
The intervening years had not been kind to him and seeing him in the chair with a cashmere blanket, hunched over with papery yellowish skin and mostly translucent gray hair was quite the shock. She dropped into a deep curtsey to cover her shocked and somewhat alarmed reaction to him when he was wheeled to a stop in front of her.
“Finnegan.” His father smiled at him weakly, reaching a shaky hand out to his son. “I hope I’m not interrupting your day too badly.”
“Of course not, Da. Never.” Finn’s smile was unlike any that she’d seen so far, such an expression of love and joy from just a turn of his lips. He leaned down and hugged the man as best he could in the awkward position before stepping back to her side and wrapping his arm around her waist. “May I present, Coretta Westgate.”
Mouth dry, she relied on all her training and manners to origami fold her features into a smile that could pass for genuine as she gazed down to this shadow of the man she knew. “
Majesty, it is lovely to make your acquaintance.”
There was a heart-stopping moment as he cocked his head and met her eyes, the blue in his sun-faded to pale gray, as he reached for her hand. With a sidelong glance at Finn, she clasped his fingers lightly with her own, disconcerted by their softness and delicacy.
“You look familiar, Miss. Have we met?”
Feeling the additional weight of Finn’s curiosity, her smile warmed as she folded his frail hand between both of hers. “I imagine I would not have forgotten meeting such a handsome man as yourself.”
The man in the chair beamed, nose wrinkled and dimples on full display. “Aren’t you a charmer,” he giggled, looking approvingly over her shoulder to his son. “Shall we eat?”
Lunch was a multi-course affair, with every single gripe and growl she’d ever made as a teen taking etiquette lessons echoing in the back of her mind as she deftly chose each correct utensil and glass. Small talk wove its way around and through each dish and expertly paired glass of wine.
“Your brother informed me that you had quite the evening last night. You know that once Brendan is installed on the throne, your nightly, ahem, adventures, will be nonexistent. At least those without a security detail. You will be next in line for the throne, and your actions should reflect that.”
Bright blue eyes snapped to hers over the floral centerpiece. The offhand way he said it and the expectant look on the king’s face were out of line with a question about the drive-by. Blinking at Finn in the Morse code equivalent of ‘bitch, be cool,’ Cora picked at her dwindling side dishes before spearing a bite of grilled asparagus, sipping her wine to keep her mouth occupied.
“I’m sorry, Father.” Finn spoke the words into his plate, shoulders rounded in the posture of a chastened little boy. “I wasn’t thinking. I just—”
“Of course you weren’t,” the old man chuckled, winking at her, “you had much more important, and beautiful I might add, things on your mind in that moment.”
A Killing Moon Page 6