Louis growled his displeasure. She was their mate, and she was afraid. She needed them. The urge to protect her, comfort her, to tell her everything was going to be all right, burned within him. But would it be? Right now, she wanted to run from them, from what they were. To lock it away in the back of her mind and pretend she’d never seen what she had. He could smell it on her.
He took a step toward her, and Melinda backed away, her bottom lip quivering. His heart cracked wide open at the look in her eyes.
“Thank you, Annabelle. Perhaps that’s for the best. For now.” Pierre put a steadying hand on his shoulder. “Come, Louis.”
The ride back to the Ritz-Carlton was a somber one. How Annabelle and Stef talked Melinda into returning with them, he didn’t know, but there must’ve been some heavy persuasion. Convincing her to ride in the car with them was out of the question, so the girls took one car, and Pierre, Gabe and he drove back in the other.
In the foyer, they parted ways. The women heading for the bar, while they took the elevator to the penthouse suite. She looked at them then, as they stood in the elevator waiting for the door to close. Her face pale and tear-stained, the terror gone from her eyes, replaced by bewilderment and a good measure of shock. Worlds away from last night as they’d fucked her fear away. Now they were what frightened her.
In their suite, Pierre poured them all a glass of whiskey. Gabriel flopped on the sofa and Pierre stood by the window, looking out at the San Francisco skyline. Louis downed his glass in one gulp, the burn of the spirit doing nothing to quench the pain in his chest. He poured himself another.
“Well, that went as well as we could have expected,” said Gabe.
Louis rounded on his brother. “As well as we could have expected? Our mate is afraid of us. Cordelia has escaped. There are six dead bodies in an otherwise empty warehouse by the docks. Worse, Cordelia played the part of the poor little old lady to perfection. Melinda still believes her client is in danger. Notthedanger!” He was yelling now, his hand fisted around the crystal glass so tight it might shatter. “Our mate thinkswe’rethe danger.”
“Louis—”
“No! Don’t Louis me, Pierre!” He hurled his glass at the wall. It shattered, crystal and whiskey spraying over the wall and the cream carpet. Louis slumped down on the sofa, his head in his hands. “What if…?” He raised his head to meet the anguish in Pierre’s eyes. “What if she wants nothing to do with us now?” He raked his hand through his hair. “Look at us. We’re already trying to drink away our pain.”
Pierre turned away. His brother always did like to mask his feelings, but they throbbed in the air, more powerful than an electromagnetic pulse. His brother was hurting as much as he was.
Gabe leaned forward, his elbows on his knees. “Don’t give up, Louis.” He swiveled to include Pierre. “Either of you. Remember, I thought I’d lost Annabelle. Three long years without her almost killed me. Then look what happened. Now, here I am. Mated. Fate will find a way.”
Louis was glad Gabe had omitted the ‘happily’ bit. He didn’t think he could face it if he hadn’t.
Pierre grunted. “Tell that to Maxime.”
“Have a little faith. In Stef and Annabelle. In your mate. She’s had a shock. It’s not the way any of us would want our mates finding out what we are, I’ll grant you, but she’ll come around. Just give her some time. A lot happened in that warehouse. She’s going to need to come to grips with it all, to assimilate it.”
Maybe.
“Louis,” said Gabe. “She’s smart, right? Stupid-smart, like you two.”
Oui, she was. Their malware had only got them so far. She hadn’t made it easy for them to track her down.
“And you’ve done nothing but protect her. You saved her from the Faucherian sent to kill her. You protected her at the warehouse. Killed for her. She’ll join the dots. Once she’s had a bit of time to think about it.”
“Gabe’s right, Louis. We need to give her time.”
Time? They’d be lucky if she ever wanted to be in the same room with them again. Accepting she was their mate? Convincing her to bind herself to them forever? To become one of them? Right now, they’d have more chance hacking the fucking Pentagon.
Chapter Twenty
Melinda sipped on the colorful cocktail Stefanie had placed in front of her, not really tasting it. She hoped it had a kick to it. After what she’d witnessed in the warehouse, she was going to need something stronger than juice and syrup. Something to blanket her thoughts with a numbing buzz, preventing her from replaying the horrific scene over and over in her mind.
The statuesque blonde, the one she’d shot at but who seemed to bear her no ill will for it, ended her call and joined them, sliding onto the bar stool. “I’m Annabelle, by the way. Gabriel’s mate. In all the planning and stuff in the penthouse, we didn’t get introduced.”
Gabriel’smate? Oh. Like a wife, but…werewolf style.Oh, God. We’re going there. We’re doing this.She didn’t want to, but there was no denying what had happened in that warehouse. Louis and Pierre had…changed. Become beasts. Wolves. She hadn’t imagined it in her London flat. It was real.
“Are you…?” Melinda’s gaze ping-ponged between Stef and Annabelle.
Stefanie cocked an eyebrow. “You can say it, Melinda. Speak it out loud.”
Melinda gulped. “Are you…werewolves?” She kept her voice low. They’d chosen a table in a quiet corner, away from the bar, but Melinda didn’t want to risk anyone overhearing. They’d think she was insane. She wasn’t sure she wasn’t.
Stefanie patted her arm. “There you go. That wasn’t so hard, was it? In answer to your question, yes, we are. Annabelle is also a witch.”
Annabelle nodded. “I am. I’m the High Priestess of the San Francisco Bay coven.”
