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James had stopped screaming and was quietly whimpering instead. To be honest, I was slightly impressed that he hadn’t fainted. Amber motioned Archie and Manners away with a jerk of her head, and they scrambled back. She would make a fine alpha, I thought somewhat jealously. This commanding business came easily to her. She ran her own coven and was touted to become the next Symposium member following the unfortunate demise of the last witch who’d had the role. The Symposium is the ruling body of the almighty Connection. Witches take the appointment seriously; it would be weeks before a successor would be chosen, but I’d bet money on Amber’s success.
I studied her surreptitiously. She looked tired, which was rare for her, and her eyes showed strain. I wondered if it was the pressure of the battle to become the next Symposium member or if she was still battling grief. Her lover Jake had been killed – assassinated – only a few weeks earlier.
Amber donned sterile gloves and pulled various potions out of her bag. She took a paintbrush and was about to start painting a rune when she paused. She turned to me. ‘I’m guessing you want his de-manning to be permanent?’
‘Yes please.’ I smiled pleasantly, like we weren’t discussing mutilating someone.
She nodded, turned back to James and painted the runes on his ruined crotch. She’s a witch with real honest-to-goodness magic, so I guess growing back his cock was actually an option. This realm keeps surprising me.
What was left of James’s manhood would be operational for the purposes of having a pee, but I doubted he’d ever be able to bring himself joy or shag his victims to death. It seemed a fitting punishment.
Once Amber was done ‘healing’ him, I turned to the huddle of werewolves. As always, my gaze met Mark’s first. Mark was officially third in the pack; he’d been Lord Samuel’s second and had been supremely pissed off to be demoted to number three. But Manners had beaten him fairly in combat, and pack rules are simple.
Greg Manners was brethren before he was turned into a werewolf. He’d lived alongside the dragons and protected their family and human offspring. He’d grown up with a weapon in his hand, and had been bundled off to the military at sixteen. He’d undertaken rigorous training and become the type of operative who’d have to kill you if he told you what he’d done.
Mark was a bruiser, always fixing for a fight, but he was no match for Manners’ raw strength and skill. It had been a shock to Mark to discover he wasn’t the toughest mother in town anymore, and his new position as third hadn’t settled well.
He was my most vocal opponent, never going so far as to actually insult me or to call me out but constantly undermining me. I went to an a girl-heavy school, so I recognise bitch guerrilla warfare when I see it and, unluckily for him, I know it like the back of my hand. I was popular at school, which made me supremely unpopular with a section of the not-so-popular girls. I did my best to rise above it all. It wasn’t my fault that I was athletic, clever, beautiful and could sing, and I wasn’t dumbing down to make anyone else feel better. I never made fun of others, but neither did I demean myself. My mum taught me to take pride in my successes, just like I was a man.
I held Mark’s challenging gaze and smiled at him. ‘Well volunteered, Mark,’ I said calmly. ‘You can dump James back where you found him.’
He opened his mouth to argue then closed it with an audible clack. He wouldn’t disobey me – yet.
He motioned to Liam to help him and the pack’s fifth stepped up to the plate. Liam was young, but I thought he’d have potential if I could get him out from under Mark’s claws. He seemed intelligent and sharp; despite him treating me with undisguised dislike, I thought he could be an asset one day.
The two of them lifted James by his armpits and carried him effortlessly out of the room. Werewolf strength is a huge advantage, though I’d broken any number of lipsticks before I’d learnt to moderate my grasp. First-world werewolf problems, hey?
I looked at the rest of the group. We didn’t have a full house today, not by a long shot. The majority of the local wolves have normal jobs that keep them busy and, though they belong to the pack, they don’t live in the mansion.
The few that were there were my housemates, albeit in a house that is a massive Edwardian building in pristine condition with rolling, landscaped gardens that cost a pretty penny to maintain. I should know: as a qualified accountant, I’d reviewed the books and winced at the monumental expense. Not to mention the cost of looking after freeloading pack members.
I contemplated trying to make a point to the gathered wolves, but I felt that Esme had already done that quite eloquently: we weren’t weak, and we weren’t afraid to get bloody.
Nobody’s face shone with respect, but something had changed. Tristan was glaring, as usual, but Marissa looked contemplative. Seren’s face was blank. They might not like me, but now they understood that I was capable of violence, capable of protecting myself – and them, too.
‘Don’t mind me,’ Mrs Dawes said. ‘I’ll just get that carpet cleaner.’ She left the room and returned a moment later wearing gloves and carrying a jar of gloop. She opened the lid and carefully painted thick green liquid onto the bloodstains. It glowed for a moment before fading entirely, leaving behind an unblemished carpet.
‘Nice potion work,’ Amber commented. ‘Who did it for you?’
‘Shauna,’ Mrs Dawes replied. ‘She’s such a dear. She gave me a discount for bulk buying.’
Amber nodded. ‘I’ll congratulate her. That worked expeditiously.’
‘She’s always good at producing a quick result.’
‘Indeed,’ Amber said drily. ‘And you never know who’s going to come calling.’ Her tone had greater meaning in it than the words conveyed.
‘Thank you, Mrs Dawes,’ I said. She nodded her neatly bobbed head and backed out of the room, shutting the heavy door behind her.
‘Manners, Amber, come with me,’ I ordered. Amber raised an eyebrow at my tone but followed me down the corridor to my private lounge. The large yellow room was empty, but with the fire burning it had a much cosier feel than the big room.
‘Good to see you,’ Manners said to Amber when the door was shut.
Amber nodded in acknowledgement. ‘I come with a message from Maxwell. He’s heard on the down-low that you’re about to get a visit.’
‘From whom?’ I asked.
‘The werewolf council.’
