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Wendy began to wave her hands; she didn’t seem happier, but she did seem like she wanted to stay classy. “Fine, fine. I’ll bring the shithead back. Give me a piece of chalk or a Sharpie or somethin’.”
I blinked. “Don’t need a crossroads and the moonlight?”
“No, crossroads are just the 1800 number,cher,” she sighed, but then Ryker quickly passed her a Sharpie from a nearby drawer. “I have his direct line.” She squatted down by the floor and started to draw out a symbol that did, indeed, look demonic. It looked like something you’d find in a movie about exorcism. But she stood up, pulled a hairpin out of her hair, and pricked her finger on it before squeezing out a single drop. “I summon thee, Samael,” she said, looking bored and unhappy about what she was doing, and let the drop fall onto the symbol she just wrote. Then she took a giant step back.
The room filled with a cloud of smoke and the smell of sulfur, enough to make me and Ryker put our hands up over our faces.
Then Samael was suddenly in the middle of the room, dirt and blood all over his face and black tar and old blood smeared over a machete that he wielded in his hands, looking ready to fight something much larger than himself and emitting some sort of loud war cry.
He then seemed to realize he wasn’t where he had been moments ago, looked around, then threw down the machete with disgust. He went right towards a crystal decanter of bourbon. I thought he was going to pour some in a glass for a moment, but then he just started chugging the booze right from the decanter.
“What the fuck was going on there, boss?” Ombre was quick to ask, sounding incredulous as smoke dissipated from the room.
Samael looked like shit. His shirt, once a business button-down, was now strained and ragged, sticking to his chest. He looked like he had literally crawled through hell.
Samael turned and looked at Wendy. His black eyes seemed even blacker for a moment, and I wondered if I was going to have to step in between them.
“How much time has passed?” he asked crisply.
“About four days,” the cat replied for her. “How many days passed for you?”
“About threemonths,” he growled, not looking away from Wendy.
“Ohh.Pas de bol,” Wendy said flatly, looking less than sorry. “Anything you’d like to say to me? Maybe an apology?”
He blinked at her. “Anapology?” He gripped the decanter so hard that it broke into sand, falling between his fingers and onto a pile on the floor.
And she was still posturing at him, her hands on her hips as if she planned to face off with him.
“Oh, we’re looking at about three hours oftotal drama,” groaned the cat. He looked up at me with his round, yellow eyes. I knew he wasn’t really a cat, but this fucker really did look like one. He even gave off cat vibes. “Close off the back of your house to the pack, give us some time. We’re not going anywhere. They’ll do your ritual tonight. Make sure you claim your mate before then, though, or else it won’t do as well.”
I raised an eyebrow. “What?” I hadn’t expected the cat, of all things, to give that order.
The argument between Wendy and Samael was growing to very heated levels, but Silas just talked over them to me. “Oh, you bite her, she’ll go Lycan,” he reminded me, as if I didn’t know. “But be careful, because if she’s what they say, she’ll be powerful. Notto mention Lycans that are late-awoken are normally quite feral. The more powerful the blood, the better this is gonna go for you. And I want you to do well…”
I grinned, figuring this was a good moment. “Wow, Silas, I didn’t think you gave a shit.”
“Of course I do. You owe us almost fifty thousand dollars for this ritual and for our services this week, and if you don’t make it, I don’t know where the money will come from,” the cat assured me, and my smile faded right off.
Fucking cat.
“And remember, when you do pay, I want bills. Crisp?—”
“Clean American dollars. Got it,” I groaned, and motioned Ry to help me with Roger, who was tossing and turning on his cot, waking up because of the noise and groaning nonsense. Ryker got his arms, and I got his legs. As we left the room, we could hear Samael and Wendy start to throw our shit at each other while screaming. Shutting the doors to the ballroom helped, but not entirely.
Ryker eyed the door and then continued to help me carry Rog to the sofa in the living room where the other pack was hanging out.
“Think they’re gonna be okay in there?” Ry asked, glancing over his shoulder.
“Do I think that room is gonna need redecorating after? Yes, I do. Am I gonna get between them? No. Samael’s not gonna hurt her like we’d never hurt Kaci, but white knighting won’t get us anywhere. I’m gonna go to Kaci, get some shut eye.” I could almost feel my mate pressed up against my chest, and I couldn’twait for it. Sleeping next to her was something I’d needed to experience since the second I met her.
After we deposited Roger, we walked up the stairs.
“When are we gonna claim her?” Ryker asked me, seemingly going to the exact same place.
I looked over at him. Kaci wasn’t going to like the claiming, and it would have been nice to prepare her mentally and emotionally for it. “As soon as possible. I don’t know what the rogues and Madame Juana’s plans are, but I want to be ready. We can’t be nice about it.”
“She’s gonna think we’re a couple of shithead mates,” he grumbled, thrusting his hands in his pockets.
