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A few of the other palace guards chuckled at the Gargoyle’s teasing, but they shut their mouths as soon as Jeremiah sent a glare around the room. They’d been using the space every morning for meetings since he’d arrived, and anyone not on active protection duty was required to be there. He didn’t share everything his team was doing or the few small leads they’d found, but he made each of them report anything and everything they discovered.
“He’s fine,” Jeremiah finally said, flicking a hand toward an open seat. The last thing he wanted to do was talk about Remi and what had happened between them the night before in a room full of people he didn’t trust and who were trained to detect deceptions. When the Gargoyle crossed his arms and stubbornly held his ground though, Jeremiah sighed. “I’ll check on him after the meeting. I’m sure he’s just sore because he’s not used to it.”
“And from being a weak little halfbreed,” someone muttered from the back of the room.
Jeremiah’s hackles rose, his temperature spiking. “Stand up. Whoever fucking said that—stand up right now.”
There was a long moment of tense silence, and then a big guy with long blond hair braided down his back rose to his feet, sneer curling his lip as he eyed Jeremiah. Werewolf. They always thought they were so much better than him.
Not that he gave two shits about what this guy thought about him in that moment.
He turned to the Gargoyle. “How long has he worked for the palace?”
“Two years, sir.” The Gargoyle—he should really start to learn their names—looked equally unimpressed, scowling at the wolf. Jeremiah was sure the honorific was on purpose too, to send a message to the rest of the room.
“Two years and you still think it’s okay to disrespect the crown prince of Midlona in a room full of witnesses.” Jeremiah kept his voice level, even though his hound was dying to rip this asshole to shreds. He knew being part human was something Remi struggled with accepting about himself, and to hear some dipshit who was responsible for his well-being call him the very slur people had been hurling at both of them their whole lives? Fuck no, he wasn’t going to stand for that. He turned to the Gargoyle. “Take this asshole to Thorne’s office while I let him know he’s being fired.”
The wolf howled in outrage, storming forward, but several other guards held him back, telling him to chill out.
“Let him go,” Jeremiah growled, letting his Hellhound come forward and simmer just beneath the surface, lighting up his eyes and lengthening his fangs. Hellfire danced between his fingers, and the first row of people scrambled away from him.
Chest heaving, the wolf eyed his hands with obvious fear, then shook his head. “Fuck you and this job.”
He turned and stomped out of the room.
Jeremiah took a deep breath, settling his bloodthirsty beast and promising him a fight in the ring later with one of his guys. He stopped the Gargoyle before he could leave too. “What’s your name?”
His craggy face looked even more unimpressed somehow, but Jeremiah didn’t really care. Shaking his head, he sighed and said, “Evan.”
Jeremiah nodded and pulled out his phone, shooting a message to the palace’s head of security.
Evan is bringing someone to your office. I just fired him. Make sure you put a tracker on the piece of shit. I want to know exactly what he does, where he goes, and who he talks to.
The Dragon’s response came through immediately from somewhere else in the palace where he was on the queen’s detail.
Thorne: Understood. I’ll handle it.
Satisfied, he put the device away and took in the rest of the group. They were silently waiting and more than a smidge wary after his little power display.
Good.
“Anyone else have something they want to say about me, the royals, or their assignments?” he asked, making sure to meet the eyes of each person in the room and taking note of anyone who looked pissed.
No one spoke up.
“Alright, then, let’s get this shit going.”
* * *
It was a couple of hours before he could track down his little princeling, and he couldn’t help but grin as he watched Remi limp out of a room, one of the palace’s PR people right behind him and still chattering about some event she wanted him to attend next month.
In Hillsland.
Mood souring, Jeremiah waited down the hall until Remi promised her he’d consider going to the fundraiser, and she hurried away, typing on her phone. Once she was out of sight, he closed the distance between them. Remi jumped when Jeremiah wrapped a hand around his elbow.
“Oh, it’s you.” Remi slapped a hand to his chest over his racing heart, the sound teasing at Jeremiah’s predator instincts. Smiling up at him, Remi bit his lower lip. “Where have you been all morning?”
“I was busy.” He tried not to be affected by the flash of hurt on Remi’s face at his sharp tone. “Is there something you need to tell me?”
