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“The Pack’s going back to Aurora?”
“Not the entire Pack. Just a group. I’m leading it. We’re doing well financially, but we’re feeling a little bruised after being in Chicago for so long. This city doesn’t recharge us. There’s too much steel, too much concrete, and too many people. The magic is diffuse. In Alaska, the magic is everywhere.”
That must have been what Berna was talking about. I lifted a brow. “Is this about running around naked in the woods?”
“That’s don’t ask, don’t tell. And, no. This is about feeling better, about healing. Our magic is worn down, literally. Scraped raw because we’ve been going, doing, fighting for so long. We aren’t as strong. We don’t heal as fast, even when we shift.”
There was concern in his tone, and I realized he actually looked stressed. Connor had always seemed content to play the prince, having the prestige of the throne without actually having to worry about the job. Maybe he was taking that more seriously, too.
“That sounds serious,” I said.
“It is. The trip’s necessary, so the Pack will ride—and be prepared to fight.”
I imagined a convoy of shifters in leather jackets, long hair streaming in the wind. Then I realized what he’d said. “Wait. To fight what? Road rash and sunburn?”
“There are conversations the Pack needs to have with sups outside Chicago’s city limit. Incidents that need to be dealt with in person. Those conversations are necessary, but they aren’t with allies, and some will take place in enemy territory.” He gestured to Thelma. “But there are upsides.”
“Then I’ll let you get back to it. Thanks for the time, and good luck with Thelma.”
“Thanks. Maybe I’ll bring her out tonight. Give your fanged people a thrill.”
I glanced back. “My fanged people?”
“The Cadogan House party. I’m expected to put in an appearance.”
“Ah. Maybe encourage your friends to skip the leather.”
“Shifters will be shifters,” he said with a grin. “And it is a formal occasion.”
As I walked back through the building toward the waiting Auto, I realized it was the probably the longest real conversation I’d ever had with Connor Keene.
• • •
Back to the hotel, and it would soon be time to get dressed and prepare for the next round of service to Dumas. For the party, and for Cadogan House.
But before that, I needed a break. Too many supernaturals and too much magic had me on edge, was wearing down the edges of my immunity against the monster. My hand had shaken when I’d pushed the button on the elevator, and I’d clenched my fingers into a fist so the humans I’d shared it with didn’t think I was about to attack.
I checked in with Seri to confirm everyone was on schedule, then changed into leggings and a tank and sat down on the floor to stretch.
It had taken me a few years to find nighttime yoga classes that I liked and that gave me what I didn’t know I’d needed: focus. Vinyasa, which focused on breath and flow from one pose to the next, worked for me. The practice made me stronger, more limber, and it helped me keep myself—and the monster—in check.
Still on the floor, draped so my nose touched my knees, I closed my eyes, waited for my limbs to warm, to loosen.
The drumming came suddenly, a warning played out in throbbing magic, and I fought it, sweat glistening over skin as I pushed against the intrusion. I began to move into poses, some in which my body was stretched, some in which my body was compressed. That required fluidity as I shifted from one pose to another, the movements between as precise as the poses themselves, as that was the hallmark of vinyasa.
An hour later, I was sweaty and exhausted. But my mind was quiet, and the drumming had stopped.
For now.
• • •
The snack and shower that followed had me nearly back at one hundred percent. I dressed, fancying myself up in the way of vampires.
Physically, I was turned out pretty well. My dress, found at a Paris consignment shop, was the color of emeralds, a sheath of bias-cut silk from the narrow halter-style top to the floor-skimming hem. It looked like the dress of a heroine from a 1940s mystery, worn to a fancy party where she’d pull a tiny, pearl-handled gun from her purse.
I paired the dress with strappy sandals in a metal that was halfway between silver and gold, and opted to pin my hair back into a knot, leaving a few waves loose around my face.
I liked feeling the weight of it on my shoulders—familiar, and almost like a cape of my own—but this dress deserved something more.
