“We go nicely, or you enter the chambers over my shoulder. Either way, I’m going.” His jaw hardened to what looked like sheer rock.
Bear leaned around her to get her attention. “I hate to agree with the demon, but you can’t go by yourself. We should all go.”
Simone nearly cracked a tooth by clenching her teeth. She had to protect Bear. “All right. Nick can come as my representative, but Bear, you need to stay here.”
“Why?” Nick asked.
“Because my mother has a bounty on his head,” Simone snapped. Damn men. She shoved a wayward tendril of hair out of her eyes. “Plus, apparently he has other enemies here that he hasn’t shared with us.”
“Everything is fine,” Bear muttered.
“Sure it is.” Simone shoved Nick in the back. “If we’re going to go, let’s do this.” She forced a smile for her brother. They’d stayed in touch through the years, but she’d always wanted to be closer. “By the way, I’ve missed you.”
His ears turned red. “Me too.”
“Jesus.” Nick reached back for her hand and started forward, all but dragging her along. She tried to tug free, and his grip tightened.
“Let go,” she hissed, drawing up alongside him.
“No.” His stride didn’t shorten, and she had to quicken her pace to keep from tripping.
The familiar rock around her did little to soothe her nerves, yet she kept her face set in calm lines. They passed priceless oil paintings, sculptures, and prints set perfectly against the smooth rock walls, while immaculate maroon carpets cushioned their steps. The guard led them through the labyrinth of underground tunnels, obviously one of the few soldiers who knew the path.
“Tell me about entering the council rooms,” Nick said, his gaze straying to a Vicente Voltolini landscape on the far wall.
“What do you mean?” Simone asked.
“The veil. Tell me about the veil and how to survive going through it.” His hand tightened around hers.
She tripped as they reached the end of the tunnel, and the guard maneuvered a bunch of rocks against the stone into the correct formation.
The stone slowly slid open. “Wait in there for them to get you,” the guard said. “Ma’am,” he added quickly when Nick snarled.
Nick led the way inside a waiting room set with plush blue furniture, gold accents, and a Persian rug. “You witches sure like it fancy,” he muttered, releasing her hand and crossing to the closed door on the other side. “Tell me about the veil.” He turned to face her, arms crossed.
She slowly shook her head, awareness crashing through her. “You’re expecting to go through the veil?”
His head tilted ever so slightly. “Well, yes. We’re entering the chambers, right?”
“Yes.” Heat filled her lungs. The veil was a protective shield of cosmic forces that protected the entrance to the chamber, and it could rip a person apart without leaving a trace. He’d thought to brave the veil just to be her representative? Why? Why would he take such a chance? “The only non-witch ever to survive the veil was Conn Kayrs, and he had been mated to witch Moira Dunne for a century. He barely survived.”
“I know. Now tell me what I need to understand,” Nick said, his eyes blazing.
“Nick.” She shook her head. “You’re not going through the veil.” She held up a hand to stop him as he began to argue. “We put in a back door to the chamber after Moira insisted that Conn accompany her on missions.” Moira, Simone’s cousin, was an Enforcer, and her vampire mate just had to tag along. “This is the back entrance. No veils.”
He blinked and uncrossed his arms. “That’s a security risk.”
“One we had to take.” She lifted a shoulder. “There’s plenty of security, in case you missed the crazy maze we had to go through to get here. Plus, there were several coded doors we went through before reaching the last room.” The emotional armor shielding her started to crack, and she scrambled to hold herself together. “You really can’t have meant to risk your life like that.”
He moved then, coming at her. “You’re not doing this alone.”
She shook her head, wanting to back up, but her feet remained frozen in place. “Nick, no—”
“Yes.” He paused in front of her, gently grasping her chin. “I’m familiar with your laws, all laws, actually. I will represent you, but you have to make me one promise.”
Butterflies blasted through her abdomen. “What promise?”
“If it looks like things are going south, and I have a chance to get you out of Ireland, you let me.”
What? She tried to shake her head, but he held her easily in place. “I’m not running. What are you planning?”
“Backup plan, Zaychik moy.” His gaze dropped to her mouth. “I always have a backup plan. You know that.”
She swallowed, suddenly feeling too warm. “I will not run.”
“You’ll do what I tell you to do, if it means surviving.” No give showed on his face.
Temper, finally, took over her emotions. Flames shot down her arms. “You do not tell me what to do.”
“There it is.” He leaned down and brushed his lips over hers. “Keep that anger with you today. I have a feeling we’ll both need it.”
Her temper flew. Oh yeah? Man, she was tired of him messing with her equilibrium. She was Simone Brightston, for Christ’s sake. Time to throw him off balance. She grabbed the back of his head and lifted up, angling her lips perfectly inside of his. Her eyelids fluttered shut, and she slid her tongue inside his mouth.
He stiffened, his lips nearly pressing into a line.
She smiled just enough to let him know he couldn’t fool her. Nicholai Veis had forgotten whom he was dealing with. She wasn’t some wilting human female who wouldn’t bite back. She was Simone Brightston, member of the Coven Nine, and a badass, bitchy witch. Her tongue flicked along his bottom lip, then she slowly, so damn slowly, moved away.
She leaned back, satisfaction relaxing every muscle in her body. If the demon thought he could take the upper hand with her, he’d forgotten her power.
His lids were half-closed, and a fire burned in those dark eyes. Crimson darkened his high cheekbones, and his nostrils flared like a panther catching a scent. Tension emanated from him in waves.
Her mouth curved in a smile. Triumph felt good.
Then he moved.
Faster than any shifter, he clamped both hands on her arms and lifted, shoving her against the rock wall. She let out a startled eek, her hands fluttering in protest to his rigid biceps.
Held half a foot off the ground, she barely had time to register her position before his mouth crashed down on hers.
Fire exploded inside her, burning and spiraling out. He kissed her hard, going deep, banishing every thought she’d ever had. Sensations, dark and demanding, softened her muscles. She moaned, overtaken with impossible need.
Hunger, so strong it clawed, stole all rationality from her.
The pain of the instant craving fired through her, bringing a shot of true fear. Her body was taking over, and nothing else mattered.
As if he sensed her fear, he softened his assault, reducing the pressure and drawing her away from the edge. His mouth still worked hers, showing her the devastating pleasure to be found in his gentleness. The warmth spiraled around and spread through her chest.
He brushed his knuckles across the tops of her breasts.
They ached, heavy and full, her nipples hardening to sharp points.
He released her mouth, and she gasped in breath. Her lungs wouldn’t fill with air. His thumb slid beneath her bustier and ran across a nipple.
She gasped, and her legs trembled.
He watched her, lust shining in those dark eyes. Several deep breaths moved his broad chest.
She swallowed. Instinct kept her still. One move, just one movement, and they wouldn’t be able to stop. She wouldn’t be able to stop.
Slowly, with perfect control, he lowered her to the ground.
The second her f
eet touched, reality slammed home. “We can’t do this,” she whispered, her voice hoarse.
He released her and stepped back. “Not here, anyway.”
“Not anywhere.”
“Why not?” He straightened his tie, his gaze unrelenting.
Was he kidding her? “You’re a bastard.”
“Not technically, but I sure as hell acted like one. I’ve explained that. Fate gave me no other choice. Plus, you’ve had a century to forgive me. Time’s up.”
Panic still threatened to swamp her. “I appreciate that you saved me with my nutjob father.” Truth be told, she wasn’t happy she hadn’t taken him out herself. “But you and I were finished a long time ago.”
He shook his head. “The war is over, we’re allies, you’ve forgiven me, and now it’s time to deal, little bunny.”
That’s exactly what scared her. She’d never been able to handle Nicholai Veis, and now, with the Guard after her, wasn’t the time to try. “No.”
He lifted an eyebrow. “You’ve never been a coward. Now’s not the time to start.”
What an ass. She parted her lips to say something, anything, but the outside door opened.
Nick fully understood Simone’s reluctance to delve back into the quagmire of their wild relationship, but sometimes risks paid off. He’d seen it happen with Zane, and although Nick had maneuvered the chess pieces the best he knew how, he still never expected to succeed the way they had. Zane was now mated and even had a daughter.
Sometimes life worked out, even for the wounded and desperate.
He fought the urge to step in front of Simone just in case an attack waited on the other end of what turned out to be a long hallway. These were her people, and she had to face them without a shield.
For the moment, anyway.
If anybody threatened her, he’d become more than a mere shield.
Dim light filtered down and barely pierced the darkness on either side of the hall.
“Keep your steps on the carpet,” Simone whispered back. “One inch off, and weapons discharge from the walls.”
Fucking witches. “Great,” Nick drawled, his shoulders tightening to stone. Magic, the ancient and rational kind, surrounded him with threat. While the veil might be somewhere else, power vibrated against his skin, raising goose bumps. There was no doubt his energy, that of a demon, did not belong in this place.
A door at the end slid open silently, and he followed Simone into the underground chamber very few non-witches had ever seen.
The headquarters of the Council of the Coven Nine.
Even with magic nipping at him, he was somewhat disappointed. In the center of the room was a raised rock dais complete with long counter and nine high-backed velvet chairs. Empty chairs. Twin tables, divided by a walkway, faced the dais. Just like a modern courtroom. “Shouldn’t there be bats flying around and cats howling?” he whispered.
Simone’s shoulders straightened, and she approached the nearest table, drawing out a seat. Nick naturally sought out the exits, but there weren’t any. A quick glance behind him confirmed that the door he’d passed through no longer existed.
Wonderful.
He slid out the seat next to Simone and drummed his fingers on the stone. “Where is everybody?”
She stared straight ahead and clasped her hands together on the table. “We like to make an entrance.”
Oh yeah. The smooth wall behind the chairs parted, and three people walked through to take seats facing them. Peter Gallagher, Nessa Lansa, and Sal Donny, all members of the Nine, calmly watched him. He’d read extensive dossiers on Peter and Sal, but he’d never met them in person. Nessa had just been appointed to fill a vacancy, and he didn’t know anything about her. The door slid closed.
Simone drew in a sharp breath and stood.
“What?” Nick whispered, also standing.
She shook her head and visibly swallowed.
“Where are the other five members?” Nick asked, his back rigid. Even though Simone obviously couldn’t sit on the council right now, there should still be eight people passing judgment.
Peter sat in the middle at the head council’s position. “This is not common knowledge, but Council members Louise Fronts and Frances Murphy were attacked a fortnight ago with darts filled with planekite. Many darts, and they’re both in comas.” Anger lowered the witch’s voice to a growl. “The outlook is not good.”
Simone shook her head. “I’m so sorry, Peter. Did they catch the attackers?”
“Not yet,” Nessa responded, shoving thick black hair from her face. Her deep blue eyes nearly glowed in the candlelight, and Nick made a mental note to have her investigated. “The Guard is hunting them, and we’re thinking of recalling the Enforcers.”
“After this matter is taken care of,” Peter said, his dark eyes somber.
Simone nodded.
Nick needed to follow up on his people’s search for the manufacturer of planekite, which was the only mineral in existence that could kill a witch. Somebody was after the witches, and he vowed he’d find out who, if the Enforcers didn’t track the bastard down first.
Simone cleared her throat. “Please send my regards to Louise and Frances.”
Nick didn’t like the subtext he wasn’t quite catching. “What about your mother, aunt, and cousin Brenna?” All three women served on the Council, and he’d counted on their votes to free Simone, considering they were her family.
Simone cleared her throat. “If they’ve been excused from this duty, there’s only one reason.”
Oh, he wasn’t going to like this. “What’s the reason?”
Simone’s chin lifted, but she kept her focus on the Council. “The accusers are seeking the death penalty.”
Chapter 7
Simone kept her posture straight and her gaze inscrutable. The underground candlelight danced around, no doubt enhancing her beauty. She had no illusions about her looks and had used them often to her advantage. There were two men sitting in judgment and one woman, and she hoped it would be hard for the men to kill beauty. Punish perhaps, but not end. As for Nessa, she was a complete mystery.
A side door opened from nowhere, and Colman Foley, dressed in a slate-gray suit with red power tie, walked in with stacks of files in his hands. At about five centuries old, Colman had been the Coven prosecutor for several centuries. His hair was black and curly, his eyes a dark brown, his skin a smooth mocha, and he was a genius at building up a case to prove guilt.
He nodded at Simone and set the files next to her. “Here’s everything we were sent and the materials we’ve compiled. For your defense.” Then he took his place behind his table.
Nick leaned down. “This is all so civilized.”
She nodded. “Whoever is out to get me sent the materials to the Coven Nine, which had to investigate. Nobody here wishes me harm, but they’ll all do their jobs. Colman has a duty to follow the evidence.”
Nick drew out his phone and tapped the face. “I can’t get service.”
Simone gave him a look.
“Oh.” He glanced around. His tech guys had created devices that could broadcast from this far underground, and he needed to be more prepared next time. “Okay. Once we’re aboveground, I’ll have dossiers put together on the council members as well as the prosecutor. By tomorrow I’ll know every single weakness they have.” His voice rumbled with anticipation.
“You love strategy, don’t you?” she asked.
“Yes.”
The side wall opened again, and a burst of energy in the form of Moira Dunne-Kayrs rushed inside, curly red hair flowing and wild. Her sister, Brenna Dunne-Kayrs, entered more sedately, her brown hair up in a fancy clip. The two, Simone’s cousins, immediately flanked her, with Moira edging between Simone and Nick.
Simone glanced from one to the other. “What in the world?”
Peter Gallagher banged an ancient gavel on the stone. “Moira Dunne, you are an Enforcer and have not been called before the Council yet. Brenna Dunne, you have
been excused from your Council duties for the duration of these proceedings. Neither one of you should be here right now.”
To Simone’s surprise, Brenna stepped forward first. “With all due respect, Peter, you forgot the Kayrs at the end of our names. We married brothers, you know.” Her voice was polite but direct.
Simone bit back a smile.
“My apologies. Sometimes I forget the vampires exist.” Peter was just as polite in his sarcasm.
“That’s unwise.” Brenna had dressed in a flowing gray dress the exact color of her eyes and appeared calm and serene. “I am here as the representative for Simone Brightston.”
Simone touched her arm. “You can’t do that, Bren.” Her heart warmed, and she shoved emotion away. Brenna had to remain neutral.
“Sure I can.” Brenna eyed Nick, who was watching the proceedings with a slightly bored expression. “Apparently there are two of us representing you.”
Simone shook her head. “You can’t take that risk. If things go bad, you’ll lose credibility on the Council.” Not to mention the emotional hit Brenna would take. “You’re pregnant, three months if I remember, and you need to distance yourself from this stress and turmoil.” Though Simone would always remember the sacrifice sweet Brenna was trying to make.
Brenna turned to face her fully, a gentle smile curving her lips. “Shut the fuck up, Simone. I have a job to do, and I’ll knock you on your ass if you get in my way.” She kept her voice low. “I love you, you’re family, and I’m going to protect you whether you like it or not.”
Simone blinked. Had Brenna just said “fuck”? “Geez. Being mated to a vampire has turned you raunchy, Bren.”
“You have no idea.” Brenna leaned in even more. “Are you going to allow me to help you? Or do I get nasty?” An odd purple flame danced down her arm to sputter out.
Simone frowned. “What in the world was that?” Bren’s flames were usually green or blue.
“Pregnancy.” Brenna rolled her eyes. “It has totally messed with everything. So stop ticking me off, or I’ll accidentally start shooting plasma.”
“Enough of this. I appreciate the offer, but I don’t need help.” Simone turned her voice curt and her gaze arrogant. “Now, toddle home to the vampires and prepare your nest for that baby. Or whatever occupies your time these days.” She turned away to face the Council, her stomach roiling. While she hated to hurt Brenna’s feelings, there was too much at stake to allow the pregnant witch to stay.
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