“Ah, Aaron.” His gaze moves to Mara behind me. “What brings you and your beautiful lioness here?”
I already know I’m going to regret this, but what choice do I have? Josiah has saved Wintermoon more than once and while he’s unpredictable as hell, the vampire is effective when he wants something done. I’ve heard stories about him walking into fights he shouldn’t have walked out of and come back grinning. He doesn’t flinch from the ugly side of things, and right now that’s all I’ve got.
“I need your help,” I tell him.
Josiah smiles.
26
Mara
My lion doesn’t like this vampire. She’s been pressing low inside me since we walked in, uneasy and still. I don’t blame her. His scent is wrong—death layered under chaos, sharp enough to make my nose sting.
But the way he looks at his mate.
He calls her beautiful Layla every time he opens his mouth. He watches her pace in front of her dollhouses and his eyes follow her with a devotion I recognize. The same look Aaron gives me when he thinks I’m not paying attention, like I’m the only thing in the room worth seeing. Josiah gives Layla that look while she mutters about paint and doesn’t even notice.
I look up at Aaron. He’s already watching me. The smile he gives me makes my tail sway, and my lion swells with pride.
He looks away first. Josiah is sitting in a lounge chair with one leg crossed over the other, his fingers steepled against his chin. Layla paces in front of him and his eyes drop to her hips, her curves, the sway of her walk. He doesn’t bother hiding where he’s looking. My lion would be offended if Aaron stared at me like that in front of company, but Layla doesn’t seem to care.
“I made a mistake,” Aaron starts. “I opened the Witching Glen for my father. I thought—“ He pauses. “I thought he wanted to reconnect. Build something. I was wrong. He used me to get access and then he ran.”
Josiah doesn’t look at him. He’s still watching Layla’s ass as she picks up a tiny paint pot and frowns at it.
“Ahh.” His voice is smooth. “The yearning for a father’s love.”
“It’s the wrong shade of red.” Layla turns the pot in her fingers. “I’m going to have to repaint the whole front. This is unacceptable.” She paces back toward us, her hips swaying, and Josiah shifts in his chair.
“I can help you repaint your dollhouse, my love,” he offers.
“No, no, no.” She waves him off without looking, then stops. Her eyes land on Aaron, slide to me, and she tilts her head. “You have to help them, Jo.”
My tail sways as Josiah shifts in his seat and clears his throat. First time I’ve seen this vampire anything less than perfectly composed.
Layla grins and walks backward toward his chair. She lowers herself into his lap and Josiah grunts, his hands coming to her hips.
“Pay attention to our guests,” she says, sweet and dangerous, “or I’ll wiggle and make you come in this chair.”
Josiah’s mouth curves. “My beautiful Layla, I’m going to bite?—“
“Uncle Jo, please.” Aaron groans and I press my lips together to keep from laughing.
Josiah wraps his arm around Layla’s waist and pulls her deeper into his lap. He leans in and drags his mouth across her bare shoulder. Layla lets him, her eyes still on Aaron.
“I need to find Eric,” Aaron says.
Josiah lifts his mouth from her shoulder. “And do what?”
Aaron reaches for my hand and my lion goes still inside me. I already know what he’s going to say.
“I think I have to kill him.”
Layla grins, fangs and all.
“Ahhhh. That’s quite a dilemma.” He adjusts Layla on his lap, his arm tightening around her. “‘Sometimes the one who challenges us most becomes our greatest teacher. And sometimes the enemy is the true friend we didn’t know we needed.’ Chapter twelve.”
Layla giggles and tips her head back against his shoulder. “Jo, stop.”
