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She let out an exasperated sigh, “You are increasingly the most frustrating man I have ever met. I just want to help my friend and get back to her. If I can help the wolves as a payment for that, then I’ll do what I can.”
He was taken back by her change of strategy. Because that's what it had to be. She was raised by vampires, and there wasn’t a vampire alive who would back down from a fight, diplomacy be damned.
His wolf nudged at him, urging him to continue his thoughts as if he’d already figured something out that Draven was slow to.
Flora wasn’t at all like the vampires he’d met. Even though she wasn’t one, she’d been raised by them. Shouldn’t she be exactly like them? Most of the vampires he kept company with were being detained by him or his men and returned to Chicago to face whatever punishment their King deemed appropriate. Somehow though, Flora had managed to keep a sliver of her humanity. She didn’t play by their rules. Nor did she play by any rules of engagement he’d ever studied. She flew by the seat of her pants—well, dress—and the more she played by her own rules, the more likely it became a dress he’d like to see ripped and in a pile of rags in the corner of his room.
His wolf huffed in agreement.
Deep in his front pocket, his phone started to vibrate. Draven reached for it, not wanting to move and allow Flora to escape him. He quickly silenced it, having not recognized the area code. He growled when not two seconds later the phone number appeared again.
He swiped right, answering the call. “I don’t know who this is, but now isn’t a good time.”
“Is that any way to talk to your brother?” He’d recognize Callum’s smug voice anywhere. It was permanently ingrained in the back of his mind, telling Draven to go home and live the life he deserved.
Self-righteous prick.
“What do you want, Callum?” Draven ground his teeth, though he wanted nothing more than to let out the slew of curses on the tip of his tongue.
“You have a member of my court in your custody. I figured I would have already heard from you.”
Draven’s gaze drifted down to Flora whose eyes were locked on him as she leaned forward in an attempt to hear both sides of the conversation. “I don’t give a shit whose court she’s a part of, she’s on pack lands and has something that belongs to us.”
His eyes fell to where the moonstone still sat between her perfect breasts, and he itched to snatch it. At least one of his problems would be solved if he could only touch the damn stone.
Callum tsked. “And you have something that belongs to me. Something I hold dear to my heart as I am the lass’s sovereign. I suggest you treat her with the respect she deserves. I mean, not only am I your brother, but I did save your life from our father.”
Draven growled. He told himself it was because he disagreed with Callum’s last statement, but even he tasted the lie in his thoughts. “For the last time, you didn’t save my life and I don’t owe you a damn thing.”
“That’s not what you said last time we talked. Remember? You were crazed with guilt, looking for atonement, and seeking it in the form of suicide by confronting our father?”
Draven’s jaw tightened. He’d been at the lowest point in his life after watching Joseph slip into the bloodlust. It was his fault. He might as well have held a magnifying glass to his skin and burned him alive himself. It was true Callum had stopped him, reminded him there was more to life than trying to right a wrong that their father could give two shits about. It wouldn’t bring Joseph back, nor would it bring his mother any amount of closure. Draven wouldn’t say Callum had saved his life, though. He had merely prolonged it.
Callum let out a bored sigh. “Tis’ semantics, really. Tell yourself whatever you need to sleep at night, brother. The point is Flora is there to be your liaison, lover, fuckbuddy, emotional support human, whatever you need the lass to be. She is the key to helping your people, and in exchange you are going to help me.”
Draven balled his fist at his side, his eyes locked on Flora. Her expression was filled with unbridled rage. “She’s not a fucking pet, Callum.”
“Let me talk to him,” Flora interjected, snaking her hand up so it rested openly on his chest.
He released a warning growl, silencing her protest and causing her to jerk her hand away.
“No, she’s a key. Your people can’t touch the moonstone, or have you forgotten?” Callum reminded him.
“Where is the other half?”
“You’d do well to loosen up, brother. She’s the per—”
“Callum,” Draven growled, sick of the games his brother loved and unwilling to let him finish his sentence. Draven didn’t need any more ideas on how Flora could help him loosen up. He was fully capable of painting that picture himself.
“It’s in the cave where the moon touches the earth, in the eye of her mountains.” There was almost a lilt to Callum’s voice, and Draven could envision the cocky smile he wanted to wipe off his brother’s face.
“Callum, I swear to the Goddess if you don’t tell me what the fuck that means, I am going to fly to Chicago and torture it out of you myself.”
“But in return, you’ll protect Emery?” The hint of desperation in his voice caught Draven off guard, and not for the first time, he wondered what was in all of this for Callum.
“Just because the baby is a hybrid doesn’t make it my responsibility. Don’t play dumb with me, Callum, I know that’s why you came to us instead of any other wolf pack.”
“Let’s not forget you’re my brother.”
