“I want to thank you again. And to apologize for bringing this here to you. I know you try to stay neutral.” Genevieve knew if she’d offered to leave, he’d shut down and she found she very much didn’t want that.

  He picked up the hand she’d placed on his arm and brought her knuckles to his lips to kiss. It was remarkably old-fashioned and sexy at the same time.

  “We’ve talked about this, Genevieve.”

  The way he said her name sent flickers of pleasure through her. He said it like he tasted every sound of her name. Like she was delicious.

  “You’re one of us. So, to threaten you is to threaten every single Dust Devil on this territory,” he told her. “To threaten you is to threaten me, because by all that is holding this world together you are mine to protect.”

  Genevieve swallowed hard. The words were a portent. They were an oath and a magic spell. What use would it have been to deny it? To play coy with this being who was brutally honest seemed a cruelty. And cowardice.

  “It’s true that in general we do not take sides in issues between other groups of supernaturals. But we always pick our own side, yes? We don’t get involved in other people’s business unless it’s about us and defending what is ours. You are ours. This land is ours. In bringing this here? To our hive? He’s issued a challenge I’ll happily accept.” He crossed his arms over his chest and she found her gaze returning over and over to the muscles of his biceps straining over the wide expanse. She’d seen that chest utterly naked. Had cruised over that hard, rippled skin with her lips and her fingertips.

  Suddenly the room seemed a great deal smaller than it had moments before. And as if he’d physically grabbed her, she found herself standing so close to him she could nearly taste him.

  He cupped her cheeks in his palms, the heat—oh the heat—of his skin against hers was glorious. She looked her fill at the features of his face. The blade of his nose, the slight dimple to the left of his mouth, the endless wonder of his eyes. His lips curved as he smiled and the ground she stood upon seemed to wisp away so that it was he that held her to the earth.

  “I should be concerned by that smile,” he murmured, his lips against hers.

  “Should you?” She reached up to wrap her arms around his neck as his hands left her cheeks and came to rest at her hips with no small hint of possessiveness.

  “Whatever it is, I’m sure I’ll like it,” he breathed into her mouth, and that sweet teasing kiss became something else.

  The fingers at her hips dug in as he hauled her impossibly closer, sending a ribbon of pleasure through her veins.

  His tongue slid against hers, flirting and tasting, but when she made a soft sound of pleasure he groaned, biting her bottom lip, and sucking into his mouth.

  Though Genevieve should stop the kiss and save the rest for later that night, she tugged his bottom lip between her teeth. Wanting to incite him as he did her.

  Waves of heat rolled through her as she held on, his taste making itself at home, chasing everyone else who’d been before him.

  As if there could be anyone like him.

  Marco called out from the front door as he came into the house and it was Darius who ended the kiss with a reluctant sigh.

  He put a finger against lips still tingling. Repeating, “We’ll protect you. I’ll protect you. You’re capable of doing it yourself,” he said as she was about to interrupt. “But you don’t have to.” He kissed the tip of her nose and with a little bit of a limp for a few beats, followed the sounds of Marco and Lorraine.

  Warm with the weight of what he’d just given her, she trailed at his back so she could get herself together again even as she knew on a deeper level she’d been forever changed by him.

  Chapter Twenty-Three

  “We’ve identified the others who fled from the scene,” David said as Clive entered the sitting room.

  The sun had only set five minutes before. He hadn’t even had blood or a cup of tea yet. And there his wife was sitting at a couch instead of resting in her bed, her casted leg propped up on an ottoman. “Should you be sitting up?” he asked, and it apparently was the right thing to say because Rowan’s smile softened and a delicate pink stained her cheeks for just a moment.

  “Dr. Jenkins says I can sit up for a bit as long as it doesn’t hurt. You should go feed, and then David and I will give you an update on everything that happened while you were at rest,” Rowan said.

  Betchamp showed up just then with a tea tray, Elisabeth at his side, ready to pour out after a quick look in Rowan’s direction. A reminder most likely from Elisabeth that she could handle the pouring out as Rowan healed.

  “I imagine you’d like a cup of tea as you catch up with Ms. Rowan,” Elisabeth said, placing some simple tea sandwiches on a plate and handing it Rowan’s way. “These are bland, and the doctor says you can have them. I thought you might be getting bored of broth.”

  “Thank you, Elisabeth,” Rowan said.

  “I don’t need to feed today. I’m fine,” he told Rowan in an undertone as he settled next to her on the couch.

  “Well. Hold that in reserve until after we get you caught up on everything. Let’s see. The Joint Tribunal has been rescheduled for three weeks from tomorrow because Dr. Jenkins didn’t want me to travel for two weeks. I told Theo the same during a phone call earlier, so that was handled. I only gave him five minutes. It’s fine.”

  “I don’t know whether to be grateful you obeyed medical advice or concerned you’re complying so easily because you’re not as healthy as you need to be,” Clive said.

  “Genevieve and David bullied me into seeing the situation more clearly. Mainly they pointed out I’d be at a disadvantage because Theo would know I was weak and would manipulate me. And, to be honest, he thought about arguing. So I suggested sending someone else and he backed right down. Anyway. Everyone has responded to the proposed schedule change except you and Paola. Witches are fine with it.”

  “I’m quite happy to accommodate whatever your doctor says you need to get better. What else?”

  “It was an okay call,” she said quietly. “He’s worried. Threatened to come here if he had to. Told me he had all the shitlords below. Ready when I was recovered enough to deal with the situation.”

  Clive was pleased the call left her in good spirits. She and her father both would be calmer after a positive interaction.

  “Apparently the non-comatose prisoner had some sort of episode last night and he’s conscious but nonresponsive,” Rowan said. “The nice officer video-called to tell me about it. Probably also to verify I was still too fucked-up to go breaking into jails on killing sprees. Didn’t hurt that David had to hold the phone and the light hit the bruising on my face and chest to heighten the drama. Our inside source says they’re chalking it up to gang violence and they don’t much care to expend the resources. They’ll say they’re looking, but I’m recovering and the only other people who got hurt were the bad guys and so who cares in the long run?”

  “It’d be for the best but it infuriates me nonetheless,” Clive said. “I’m afraid to ask what else.”

  Rowan told him about the things sent to Genevieve’s home address from Hugo Procella.

  “Her street address right in the middle of Dust Devil village. And wouldn’t you know it? These beings who don’t normally take sides can—and do—defend themselves,” she said with a shrug.

  “So Hugo has now created an adversary in a Trick of Dust Devils? I imagine he can’t be very smart to have made that choice but a boon to Genevieve.” And Rowan, because she and Genevieve were close, though he didn’t say that out loud.

  “The call with Theo was fine, as I said. That’s pretty much everything. Oh, Konrad Aubert is here to speak to Genevieve in person regarding this Procella situation,” Rowan said.

  “And how are you feeling?” Clive looked her over closely. Her eye was no longer swollen and most of the red had receded, but her bruising had settled in and she looked like a Monet, all yellows, blues, and purples.

  He swallowed back the fear because there she was, after being rammed into by three separate armored vehicles at the same time, riddled with bullets, and assaulted during some hand to hand where she’d taken down two fully armed wolf shifters. Looking mildly annoyed at the current restrictions on her movements, including the sling holding her arm in place while her torn muscles and the gunshot wounds in her chest and shoulder healed.

  “Better. I’ve slept a lot. Elisabeth brings me juice and tea and broth and Genevieve brought over some sort of healing tea that smells like a cough drop and tastes like the bottom of someone’s handbag.”

  He leaned close to kiss her temple in an unbruised spot. “I prefer all this to the alternative.”

  “Well, for Goddess’ sake, me too. Anyway, I’ll keep getting better and now I don’t have to go to Prague so I can handle all these pressing problems here in Las Vegas first.”

  “For the next few days let’s say you let other people handle most of those pressing problems? You can tell everyone just how you want things done. But stay still long enough for your lacerated insides to heal before you and your sword go out on a jaunt. For my nerves if nothing else. My hair will begin to fall out at this rate,” he teased.

  She flicked her glance up and smirked. “I doubt that. Even I can’t do damage to that mane of yours.”

  Ridiculously flattered and not giving a fig if anyone else saw, he leaned in and kissed her again. “I’ll instruct Alice to respond to the request to reschedule the Joint Tribunal. What of the attackers you’ve identified?”

  “Like the others, they live in the Seattle area. Genevieve’s assistant, Samaya, connected Vanessa with someone within the Conclave they call the Archivist.”

  “Oh, very mysteriously official,” Clive said.

  “She’s brilliant,” David added. “Helps that the witches are sharing a great deal of their information about wolf shifters. And within Hunter Corp. I’ve been able to put together some basics about this Shank family. They’re mercenaries for hire. Mainly for muscle and body work.”

  “Drugs too, right? I’m remembering something about them cooking meth and not being poisoned?” Rowan asked.

  “Yes, but this particular family likes to hurt people.”

  “Delightful,” Clive said.

  “This is our own fault,” Rowan muttered. “They fly under the radar and Hunter Corp. generally leaves them be. Not because we like it. But because we’ve focused on Vampires and magical practitioners.” She blew out a breath. “David, can you see about setting up a meeting with some of the others in Hunter Corp. on this issue? This sort of thing absolutely impacts humans and that falls under the Treaty. The drug thing, well, that’s something we might find a way to toss to locals. But mercenary shifter hit teams roaming around trying to kill people in broad daylight the way they did? The risk of it all—to everyone—is simply too grave to ignore.”

  “I’ll have Vihan get to work on creating a pool of possible Hunters to tap for this new approach to shifters,” David told her. “And I’ll coordinate with Alice, of course.”

  Clive inclined his head in appreciation.

  “Sounds like we need to go to Seattle,” Rowan said.

  He didn’t bother to stifle his indignant reply. “I cannot say I heard that at all,” Clive told her. “You just moved an entire Joint Tribunal because your doctor said no travel for two weeks. As we don’t currently live in Seattle, getting there would fall under the travel descriptor. In any case, we already know from Oliver Shank they’re hiding out at a ranch here in Nevada anyway. We don’t need to go to Seattle at this stage.”

  “I propose we connect with the Hunters in the Northwest before heading to Seattle anyway. Let them continue looking into the Shank family as we do from here,” David said, smoothly interjecting. “Once you’re recovered and we’re ready to proceed, we can travel there and be prepared.”

  “That’s a fine idea, David.” Clive kept his gaze from Rowan’s for a few moments, the two of them not wanting to inadvertently restart this struggle for dominance between them.

  “Yeah, it’s a good one. Make it happen. I’m going to want to talk with the Hunters up there anyway. I do need to head to Seattle, Portland, and Vancouver to assess their situation. What they need from HC to strengthen their profile in the Northwest. Obviously after I’m recovered,” she added just for Clive, and he let it mollify him. “I know a few of the people up there. Don’t ask me last names but all that information is in my files.”

  “On it.” David stood. “I’ll return shortly.”

  Once he’d gone, Rowan took his hand in hers, which was lovely but worrisome.

  “I’ve come to a decision. There’s a lot going on right now. Way too much for me to be weaker than I have to be. I’m done being slow and in pain because someone might want to talk to me. It’s not like I’ll be healed instantly anyway, but I think I should take your blood. If you’re still offering, that is.”

  Stunned he hadn’t had to argue or cajole her into it, words escaped him for a few beats. Not wanting to give her any time to overthink and change her mind, he tore his wrist open and held it for her to feed.

  He wrapped the other arm around her uninjured shoulder and cradled her to his body. The weight of her there was perfect. She held his arm in her hands, her mouth open against his skin, her hair, a river of sunset reds and golds, slid over them both. Each pull she took was like an invisible cord to his gut. To his heart and lower places. Seeing her, knowing she turned to him to help, knowing she trusted him enough to be vulnerable and admit weakness did something to him. Settled his unease.

  Normally she took a few sips, but she drank fully and without hesitation.

  Finally she lifted her head and he eased her back to the cushions as her color pinkened. His blood would be soaking into her system, healing the gravest internal injuries before the more superficial wounds and bruises that her body was already healing anyway. “Thank you,” she said before allowing her eyelids to slide shut.

  “There’s not a single millisecond of any day when I would not offer you my very life,” he murmured. “Whatever it is you should want or need I will provide. It is my pleasure and my responsibility.”

  “You spoil me.” This was said while her eyes were closed, and a smile marked her mouth.

  He scoffed. “Darling Hunter. If there’s someone who deserves spoiling in the world, it’s you. It pleases me to find ways around your general disapproval of presents.” He had to surprise her into accepting a gift or be so clever or romantic she couldn’t refuse. Or bloodthirsty. She always accepted weapons.

  “I need to call Genevieve,” Rowan told him after a few minutes of companionable silence as he’d held her.

  * * *

  “Tell me about werewolves,” Rowan said simply when Genevieve answered her phone.

  Genevieve paused a moment as she gathered her thoughts. “I think they prefer wolf shifter, though they all fall under the Were descriptor. Something about being able to shift at will instead of being tied to the moon. What do you want to know? Asta, the Archivist, said your David had requested information. I gave permission.”

  “Yes, thank you for that. It’s helped a lot. David says this Asta is brilliant and it does seem like the information she sent along is a great deal of help. I want to know something specific, and I think you’re a better person to answer. What do witches hire wolf shifters to do?”

  “You believe it was witches who hired these Shank wolves to harm you,” Genevieve said what she’d already been thinking and was sure Rowan had from the start.

  “Do you hire them for muscle?”

  Genevieve looked toward her father, who sat not too far from her. He’d be hearing every word and that was fine. It was why she hadn’t left the room.

  He shrugged very slightly.

  “It’s a known thing that some witches hire wolf shifters for this sort of thing. They hire shifters for bodyguard work, or security in a corporate setting. Generally, I prefer highly trained witches or Vampires. There’s a great deal of conflict within the world of wolf shifter packs, so dealing with them means that could bubble over at any time.”

  “Yes, I think a Procella, I’m not entirely certain which one, hired these wolves to kill me. It was a reckless move because I know who these shifters are and what family they belong to. And now that I know, I’ll backtrack to find who hired them.”

  “Konrad has called Hugo in to be interviewed over the latest delivery,” Genevieve said. “You already knew about the other complaints they filed. But I forgot to tell you Hugo complained you threw him out of the Motherhouse.”

  “Surely not in your house!” Rowan exclaimed. “Don’t let him past the front gate.”

  Darius drew in a breath at the Hunter’s emotion, and it was his gaze she was meeting this time as an entire conversation happened without a single word.

  “Not here, no,” Genevieve said, and once she had, all the anxiety she’d been holding in her muscles seemed to ease. “We’ve arranged a tightly warded space.”

  “Guarded?” Rowan demanded to know.

  Konrad’s mouth trembled a little as he fought being charmed by Rowan. Genevieve would have told him it was useless. Rowan was impossible not to admire at the very least and like a great deal because there was no one quite like her in all of existence. Her fire was in defense of Genevieve even though just twenty-four hours prior she’d been in the hospital due to a deadly attack that Rowan rightly assumed led back to witches.

  “Yes. Guarded. Darius will be there as well as my father. Neither is exactly helpless. I can make do in a pinch if need arises,” Genevieve teased. In truth, her father had a property he’d sent his own personal guard to cleanse and add wards to the ones he’d already laid. Dust Devils had been in a perpetual state of readiness since that delivery had been made. Her normal guard had swollen to over a dozen with Marco in charge. Darius insisted on being inside with her and Konrad had backed him up.