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“King Laskaris, to you. Thanks for the warning. I’ll make sure to close the curtains.” Turning on a heel, I snapped my fingers over my head. Ysabeau strode forward at my command, staring down the rival House as they headed out of the trees, returning to their own territory.
Stopping in front of Dannika, I appraised her. “That was a risky play you made,” I said, shifting my eyes to look at the rejected mate and wolf standing beside her. “What would you have done if I had retracted my offer?”
She held her chin up. “You haven’t made one.”
I couldn’t help but grin. “And yet, here you are. It would seem I have made an offer, and you’ve accepted my assistance.”
Ysabeau came to my side. “They’re gone. I’ll leave some of our soldiers to patrol the borders in case they try to come through.”
“They won’t. Not tonight, but keep everyone on high alert.” I glanced over at the giant, white-furred wolf, then to my Jeep. Making a snap decision, I pulled my keys out from my pocket and tossed them to Ysabeau. She caught them midair, then frowned. Making the same assessment I just had, her eyebrows lifted over the large-brimmed sunglasses and a small smile played on her lips. She pulled out the keys to her truck and placed them in my waiting palm.
I dipped my head to Dannika, then motioned toward the truck for her to go first. She looked between us, eyes narrowing. Her distrust made me grin. I wasn’t sure why I found it amusing. Maybe it was because she’d chosen the devil she didn’t know over the one she did, which said more about Mathis than me. Perhaps it was because she’d thrown herself into my path, had had the common sense to be wary of me and my reputation, but had kept walking. Some would call it stupidity. I knew there was more to it. While I had no doubt I could hold my own against a young shifter and her wolf, she walked with the same confidence that said she could hold her own against me—despite losing the challenge and choosing not to kill Markus.
My interest wasn’t just piqued. It was ensnared.
I followed at her side, reaching the passenger door a stride faster to open it. She tilted her head, telling Nova to get into the truck bed while she stood on the runner, throwing her backpack onto the floor and climbing in. The wolf snuffed, shaking her body, then jumped up, scratching the faded paint with her claws. The axles creaked under the added weight of the giant beast, and she lay down, keeping her keen eyes on me.
Markus followed, but I stood between him and the vehicle. “You’re riding with Ysabeau.”
“I’d rather?—”
Flying forward at a breakneck speed, I met him, face-to-face. “Understand this: I don’t know why Dannika didn’t kill you tonight, and I don’t know why she saved you just now, but let it be known that I don’t care. I know who you really are, and your death would be a convenience for me. For all intents and purposes, you are my prisoner right now. You have no rights. Clear?”
His jaw tightened as he clenched his teeth together, but he said nothing. Good. He understood. I flicked my eyes to Ysa, and she hooked her hand under his arm, tugging him toward the Jeep.
I walked to the driver’s side of Ysa’s vehicle, getting in the truck and slamming the door. Dannika sat in the passenger seat, arms crossed and looking out the window.
“It’s a two-hour drive to my estate. Get comfortable.” I was met with silence, and that somehow fascinated me more. This woman was not afraid of me. She knew who I was, but that didn’t stop her. She balanced herself on this fine line between respect for me and respect for herself. There was a beautiful defiance to it. An inner strength that drew me in, like a fine piece of art that told a greater story the more you stared at it.
Whereas art had it written in paint or etchings, this woman’s story was in the set of her posture, the way she held herself. It was in the fluorite ring that hung on a chain around her neck, the way she fidgeted with it, deep in thought despite the way she’d renounced her old House and joined my own in a matter of minutes. I didn’t know whose ring it was. She’d been forced to hand over one when she’d been exiled. I started the truck and pulled out onto the mostly deserted road that led into the mountains.
She remained in that closed-off position for the better part of half the drive. The moon peeked through clouds as they rolled through the sky, making its presence known as it filtered through the dense trees and illuminated our path with intermittent bursts of a white light.
I checked the rearview mirror, catching Nova’s intense glare as she remained vigilant and on watch. Her body jostled as we crossed rough terrain from what used to be Oregon into southern Washington, but she never faltered in her post. She didn’t trust me. It would take time to work on that. It was easier to convince people. Animals had a different sense, and I didn’t know how she and Dannika worked together. This was her wolf—but how much it was connected to her was unclear.
An audible sigh escaped Dannika’s lips, and that was when I knew I’d given her enough time to think. Just as I’d hoped. A slight smile crept up my face.
“What do you want?” she asked, turning her focus to me. Her posturing hadn’t changed, but she was at least looking in my direction.
“So many things,” I said, keeping my eyes on the road. “A rare steak and a neat scotch. For Hannibal to have had a fourth season before the world changed. A good fuck without some poorly concealed aim to raise their status. Or simply, answers to my questions.” With the end of my statement, I glanced at her for a brief moment and winked. “Which one can you offer to give me?”
She scoffed, muttering something I couldn’t make out before turning away from me once more. “Go ahead and ask your questions.”
“I want some insight.”
“To what?”
“Your motives.”
She side-eyed me. “That’s not a question.”
I grinned. “I watched an interesting exchange tonight. Instead of attending a memorial, I attended a party I had no desire to be at, thrown by a House leader I don’t particularly like or respect. And there I watched a woman reject the House heir, but then refuse to kill him when he wouldn’t reject her.”
Turning to me, her voice was quiet when she spoke. “You think it should have been a memorial?”
I raised my eyebrows, giving her a sideways glance before answering. “I do.”
“Me too,” she said, the simple words carrying a heavy burden in her voice that I didn’t understand. Her soft features were sincere, but they were marred with a flash of pain she didn’t share with me. I wanted to know why. It didn’t take a mind reader to figure out she’d lost someone. There were so many who’d died that night, after all. But who was it? What had they meant to her? Much as I wanted to ask those questions, I had to prioritize what we covered on the way to my West Coast estate.
