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More wolves had attacked other fae women and men. More had died. Her people exacted revenge each time, but always using future information to single out the next desired victim.
Eventually, she’d persuaded the Tribunal to step in. Meetings were arranged. Financial reparations made on both sides to various victims. Several wolves were arrested and at least three fae Border Patrol officers.
Natalie admitted she’d never quite forgiven Savage Territory for what had happened. Her own involvement had been very limited and had ended the same night she’d provided her one and only vision of the future. When she’d learned of the deaths of several wolves because of her information, instead of feeling proud, she was sickened. She’d ended her involvement then and there.
What she did know was that Grant had participated as well, though to what extent she didn’t know.
Now, somehow, she’d gotten involved with a wolf. It didn’t mean she had to continue seeing Grant and she suspected, after tonight’s meeting, she’d probably never see him again.
Her studio wasn’t far from either her canal-side home or the canal itself. It was one of several stand-alone dwellings, each belonging to fae with futurist abilities and enough high-paying clients to afford the pricy address.
Rolling lawns and an abundance of trees gave the strip of studio-offices the appearance of a park. She’d needed the serenity of the garden atmosphere to get through each grueling night. She rarely talked about it, even with her closest friends, but her futurist work exhausted her. Throughout each night’s work, she experienced muscle cramping and headaches.
Sometimes, her sojourns frightened her half out of her wits. She especially hated those visions that contained violence because she’d have to suffer through a difficult decision-making process. Who should she tell? Would anyone believe her? What if she chose not to act and something horrific happened?
For a long time now, she’d had a strict policy not to avail herself of the future except on behalf of clients seeking very specific information. She preferred hunting for financial details in the future and absolutely refused to accept a client’s request if they featured issues of infidelity or domestic abuse.
She was more than happy to seek out stock-tips. Perhaps for that reason, she’d gained an excellent reputation as a financial advisor. She had numerous clients in the Metro Phoenix area as well as in Five Bridges. A number of warlocks and vampires in particular sought her ought when they were mulling various investment strategies. She had a solid client list and an income that was allowing her to build a new wing onto Kiara’s Revel rescue center.
She’d been happy with the direction her life was headed.
Now there was this serious, furry bump in the road and she had no idea how to handle it.
Of course, once Grant learned the truth about just who had built the dreamglide, the problem might resolve itself simply enough. She doubted he’d want to see her again and she was perfectly amenable to that idea.
She turned to the lit shelving behind the central chair where she had her clients sit. She had designed the arrangement, the lighting, and the different statues and books in such a way to create a calm, serene environment. She had a number of candles she would fire up as well and debated doing so now for her meeting with Grant. She wanted him calm.
In the end, she opted for only one, the tall white candle on the small table in front of the burgundy client chair.
Opposite the chair and table was a club chair she would use when initially discussing her client’s requests. Beyond the smaller chair was a wall of glass shelves she’d filled with a variety of items collected from antique stores like books, old photographs, glassware, small prints, bronze statues, unique lamps. Each was intended to create a warm environment of trust.
When she heard the knock on the door, she took a deep breath. “Come in.”
This would not be an easy meeting.
There was no way Grant would want to hear what she had to say.
~ ~ ~
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Grant’s jaw worked as he turned the knob and pushed the door open. He had words sitting at the tip of his tongue ready to lambast Natalie for what she’d done. But the sight of her, or maybe the odd sense he had of her studio, stopped him.
Closing the door behind him, he glanced around. The space spoke of affluence with an antique carpet over a dark hardwood floor. The air smelled of an exotic spice. A candle burned on a small round table in front of a burgundy, wingback chair.
Natalie stood very still, one hand resting on top of the tall chair. She looked beautiful with her long curly hair floating around her shoulders and down her arms. She wore leggings as she had when he’d met her, only they were black this time. Her silk overshirt was white. A silver belt hung loose at her waist.
Shit. He was as drawn to her as much as before, despite how mad he was.
He swept an arm encompassing the candle, table and chair. “What’s with all this? What am I looking at?” His anger erupted. “Do you think you can fix what you’ve done by lighting a candle, fae-woman?”
The little he’d known her, even in the dreamglide, Natalie seemed like a strong woman. She didn’t appear to be angry or even distressed as she met his gaze, despite the fact she’d committed an illegal act.
He was a Border Patrol officer and considered himself good at reading people, but right now she mystified him.
“Are you done showing your temper?” she asked quietly.
“Not exactly and you know damn well I have every right to be mad as hell.”
