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“What I need is to not be mated to a fucking supernatural slayer!” I shouted. “You saw what happened back at that house. They were ready for us.”
“Yeah,” he said, nodding slowly. “They were. That doesn’t mean she was in on it, though. I was…” He searched for a word, looking toward the residence, where our females waited. “I was so fucking frustrated that a fragile, human mate had been handed to me, the most hunted vampire in the entire world. I saw her as a weakness, locked her up, and it did nothing but cause us both a shit ton of strife. Learn from my example. I said that we can’t afford another night like Tuesday, not don’t trust your mate.”
“She’s not my—”
“She’s your mate! Whether or not you choose to accept that bond and everything that comes with it, you can’t deny the truth of it.”
“Fine,” I grumbled, heaviness settling in the pit of my stomach.
“Just do what you always do and turn what you perceive as a weakness into a tactical advantage.” He smacked my shoulder as Ransom jogged out of the house. “Get to the bottom of it.”
“You two done listening to the aristocrats bitch and moan about shit they could solve if they got off their cushy little asses long enough to try?” he asked with a smirk.
“Dorchester doesn’t feel like we’re doing enough to quell the threat,” Alek said as we walked toward Ransom.
“Tell him to join up and quell it himself,” Hawke muttered from the doorway.
“Ha. Now that would be a sight.” Ransom’s grin failed. “Look, Xavier called and said he had intel, so I wended over to the Conclave chambers to meet his messenger.” He reached inside his jacket and removed a folded paper, handing it to Alek.
“It’s a contract for an event at the opera house,” Alek told me, scanning it over and then giving it to me.
“And? Events happen at the opera house all the time.” I read through the details. Fourth of July, catering, staff, fireworks, the whole party package. The Slatesmark Opera House was the one piece of property owned by Conclave—the council of supernaturals—and though the Conclave’s chambers were deep beneath the ground, facilitating our need for privacy, the building itself was constantly rented for events, helping keep our cover. “Who is Living Pine, LLC?” I asked, flipping the document over to finish reading.
“That’s the fun part.” Ransom grinned. “Keep reading.”
I reached the end of the contract, and ice invaded my veins, freezing the very breath in my lungs.
“Boom.” Ransom put up his hands like he’d detonated a bomb.
He may as well have.
“That’s Valor’s signature.” My voice faded to a whisper.
“Sure is.” Ransom nodded.
Alek remained silent, no doubt waiting for me to draw my own conclusions so I could compare them to his.
“Did you dig up the info on the LLC?” I asked Ransom, thumbing over the signature.
“Yep. It’s a shell. But I have a feeling you might know someone who can give us the details.” He lifted his brows.
If I trust her not to lie.
“It’s dated from last year,” I muttered. She’d signed this before everything had gone to shit—before Lyric had been taken, and Valor had gone into hiding. Before she’d supposedly left Moorehouse and the Sons.
“Old intel is better than no intel,” Ransom shrugged. “She’s in the library with Lyric and Avi.”
I nodded and headed straight for the residence.
“Benefit of the doubt!” Alek called after me.
“Make sure it’s not another fucking trap,” Hawke whispered as I passed.
Leave it to him to get straight to the point.
The females were laughing when I walked into the two-story library Lyric spent most of her nights in. It was nice to see it getting some use. The five of us had already read just about every text in here. Immortality had its perks.
“Hey, Lach—” Lyric’s face fell as she took in my expression, and her gaze darted to Valor, who swallowed.
“I need a moment with Valor,” I announced, locking my eyes on my mate as the other females quickly made their way to the door.
Valor was curled up on one end of the couch, her legs tucked under her, one edge of her boatneck sweater falling off her shoulder to reveal a black bra strap.
Don’t even look. My blood fucking simmered, thawing the ice in my veins and reminding me that my attraction to this woman was dangerous.
“Well?” She tucked her hair behind her ear and motioned to the vacated seats.
The bond between us tugged at me, begging me to close the distance between our bodies. The kiss we’d shared had fortified the bond and was on replay in my brain about every thirty seconds. Her lips had been so soft, her taste intoxicating, and the way she’d hooked her leg—
Concentrate.
“Benedict is going to live.” I sank into the wingback chair across from the couch, keeping a healthy distance between us.
