There was simply no way to avoid that he considered her not only his priestess, but his woman.

  As she, too, was an apex predator. She understood that to expect human behavior from a being as old and powerful as Darius would be fruitless. It would never be who he was, and it was important to her on a cellular level that he never feel like he couldn’t be truly himself around her.

  “We were married once. For five years.” She added the last to underline how little time she’d given to Tristan. Theirs was no great love dashed upon the rocks of an unkind world. “It was...a bad choice on my part. I was ill prepared for his idea of marriage. He was ill prepared to be a partner. I moved to dissolve it.” Tristan’s family, having netted themselves an Aubert, had made noises about fighting the divorce until Konrad’s solicitor had stepped in and there’d been no further issues.

  “Should have chosen knives,” he muttered, bringing a startled laugh to her lips.

  “He loves being aggrieved more than most anything else in the world. He’s just made an ass of himself in my meeting and will be looking for more attention to ease the sting.” She made a decision to share a little more. “He and his family are connected to some of the conspirators we’ve found so far. We haven’t gone public with all of them yet. Zara and Gaius are building evidence on them all. We don’t want to move until we’ve got enough to bury them.”

  Darius nodded.

  “I used my magic on him earlier,” she said quickly, telling him of the incident. “I can do such things easily, but it was a spontaneous thing, barely any intention and he was at my back. I didn’t even have to concentrate,” she added. Proud. There were wards in place that limited most use of magic against other witches and despite being a peacock, Tristan was no weakling. She’d proved herself his superior.

  He smiled very slightly. “You are growing in power. This is pleasing. It serves the Trick but keeps you safer at the same time.” The barely there smile faded into a frown. “You did this in front of others?”

  “News will have traveled across the globe by the time lunch is over. The all-Senate meeting starts after our break, so I expect there won’t be a single empty seat left. Gawkers will rush in. It serves me,” she said, answering his unasked question. “I’ve ascended a level of power. That will definitely raise my profile here and also, remind everyone that to take me on is to fail miserably.”

  “Then I most definitely approve.” He tipped his chin at her. “We will look at this Tristan creature. If he is a threat to our priestess, we must know. If we find information connected to this case of yours, we will share.”

  She knew she didn’t have to tell him to be careful not to be detected. Chances were very high that he was better at investigations of such matters than she was.

  Genevieve kept his gaze. Not something she did with most other beings. Vampires wanted to try to roll you and other witches and shape-shifters took it as a challenge. Which it was most often. But sometimes it was just nice to look someone in the eyes and connect, person to person. No agenda.

  “I’m certain you have some sources I can’t even imagine. So I’ll say thank you and warn you his sire isn’t as useless as he is. He knows how to use his political and magical power. Though doubtless not against a Dust Devil.” And wouldn’t that be fun?

  He didn’t smile. But he thought about it. She just knew that part.

  It was more than enough.

  “We have powers and abilities these Sansburys cannot defy or defend against. We cannot be challenged in your defense.” Darius didn’t wave his words away as a way to soften the threat. He served them to her so she could know what they were about. What they’d be willing to do in her honor.

  The fluttering of tenderness and a wave of vulnerability left her uncomfortable and off-balance and yet thrilled.

  Neither of them spoke for long minutes. Simply eating and enjoying their companionable silence.

  “Will Tristan take his grievance into this next meeting? Attempt to assuage the sting of your new power by manipulating the process?” he asked at last.

  “Undoubtedly he will be bringing his feelings into the all-Senate. My meeting was small. I was the chair. It took hours, but it ran orderly without procedural dueling.” Genevieve shrugged. “Witches do so love rules and processes. And we love to use them to show off and punish one another most of all. I make it a point to never get involved in most procedural battles. The more one does, the more time gets wasted. I speak when my voice is necessary. Otherwise, I let it flow around me.”

  “You don’t make enemies as easily that way.” Approving.

  “If I make an enemy, I prefer to do it on purpose. Like offense. I am old enough to see the benefits of listening more than I speak. Of shepherding my power—political and magical—for times when they’re needed. And, when it’s necessary, using it however the situation calls for. Reputation is best kept with occasional reminders.”

  “This is a decidedly old-world way of thinking,” he said, his voice a rumble in her bones.

  Genevieve laughed a moment. “When I was fourteen, I was sent to learn in the household of an important noble in Venice. The noble was a widow, and my teacher was her chief strategist.”

  Darius said nothing. Simply gave her all his attention.

  “Strategy is its own type of magic. It’s intuitive. It involves a certain amount of fate or luck. A great deal of patience. Charm. Intelligence. One begins to cultivate sources and other types of support in as many places as possible. There’s a deep, old magic in the confidence you can find in yourself when you enter any sort of negotiation or diplomacy. My teacher gave me many tools but the most important was patience.

  “In some cases, getting what you want takes years in the making. Especially when you’re dealing with creatures who are powerful and nearly immortal. Problems usually develop over time. Fixing them takes twice as long.”

  “And dealing with nearly immortal beings means anything that feels sudden or new is automatically distrusted,” he murmured.

  “Yes. Precisely.”

  “How long were you in Venice?” he asked.

  “Twenty years until the widow, who was a Vampire, had to relocate as rumors of her not aging had begun to circulate. I went back to them three more times. All after I’d become a Senator. I learned battle magics from her sergeant at arms while she was in Norway.”

  “I’d have thought your father would have taught you.”

  “Konrad arranged for me to study with Rebecca. The widow I spoke of. She had been loyal to him during the crusades. We didn’t really live together for him to teach me things.”

  Darius’s brow furrowed but he withheld comment.

  Genevieve said, “I’m seven hundred years old. You know better than I that the world was far different then. He was a warlock. Frequently on a battlefield or organizing an uprising. In a world where travel took months at a time, there were years I didn’t see him.” Though he had sent her things. Polished stones from Spain, spells from a shaman in the Netherlands. Viking rune stones she still used.

  He wasn’t around, but he hadn’t forgotten her.

  He did smile then and it transformed his face, bringing her breath a little short. “And you are a warrior as well. In your own, equally powerful way.”

  To say she was wildly flattered would have been an understatement.

  “Your people need that strength of leadership to get through the storm.” He looked at her long enough that understanding lodged in her gut that he was saying something deeper.

  This trouble wasn’t over and there was more ahead to unveil that would shake their world.

  He touched her wrist. A brief slide of the pad of his index finger over the delicate bones there. He searched her features a moment, as if memorizing them. “Earlier, while we were at the home of the missing witches, your power rose quick and sharp. The presence of your...facets increased.”

  “Facets?” she asked.

  Her wrist remained cradled in his hand, his fingers curled around her, the heat of his skin sending delicious tingles through her skin.

  “You call them voices,” he murmured.

  “But why do you call them facets?” It was important somehow, that she ask.

  “What comes when you call your magic—that swell of power that tastes and feels of many things—isn’t from the outside. Not a voice from another. These perspectives and feelings are all yours, Genevieve. They are facets of your power. You call yourself a Lattice Witch, yes? One who can take multiple disciplines and weave them to create unique spellcraft?”

  She nodded.

  “Facets, elements, steps, whatever of those terms you connect with the strongest.”

  “You’ve given me something to think about. I had not considered it from this perspective.” The knowledge weighed against her shoulders but in a portentous manner rather than a curse. It would need investigating.

  “Then I am doubly glad I brought it up. What I intended to say was that when these facets of yours got in the way, I’ve been able to lend you some assistance.”

  As if the voices had been soothed. Or settled in some way. “I had assumed your magic lent some calming energy. It helps. There are times when it gets very loud and it becomes difficult to hold the thread of my working,” she said.

  Darius moved so that he cupped her jaw on the left side of her face. “Here?”

  Genevieve stared into his gaze as she registered his skin against hers as he pulled her hand up to replace his.

  “Hold as I was.”

  Fascinated, she watched as his gaze blurred even as his dark brown eyes went midnight with a flare of amber at the pupil. Her pulse thundered as he leaned close and cupped her palm as he blew a long breath against her throat just below her ear.

  He spoke, his words lyrical and loaded with magic that soaked into her skin and...for want of a better term, created a buffer between the facets or voices or whatever it was, and the part of her brain that connected with her magic. It lowered the volume and in doing so, her pulse calmed.

  Though he was the reason she remained breathless. He was so near, his lips at her throat, his magic sliding into her, seducing her own.

  Her magic liked him a very great deal.

  “When you need such assistance in the future and I’m not at your side, simply hold your jaw as I showed you.”

  The addition of another tool to deal with the times when all the threads of her power tangled and threatened to drown her brought relief so sharp it nearly hurt. “This is very helpful,” she said.

  “You have the ability to do this yourself by using the magic of the Trick. I will help you learn. In the meantime, I’ve created what one of our newest Devils calls a hack. The spell is there just under your skin. Your hand there triggers it.”

  There was so much to learn about not only the kinds of workings she could perform using the salt magic the Trick had unlocked for her. Not the least of which was just what sort of magic Darius wielded and how.

  “Will you tell me about your magic?” she asked as she opened her eyes after taking a deep, centering breath. He stepped back but the heat of him, the scent of his magic still hung in the air.

  “Depends on what you ask,” he said. But with that ghost of a smile that he only seemed to use with her.

  “You should know I quite like a challenge,” she told him seriously.

  “You say that as if I would run away.”

  Samaya knocked on her door, so Genevieve reluctantly gathered her things.

  “All right. Thank you. I’m optimistic we will be done by ten at the latest so rather than spend the night here in Los Angeles, let’s go back to Las Vegas. I would remind you that I’m perfectly safe here within these walls and that if you wanted to go and do whatever, I’ll call you when I’m done, but I know that would be useless.”

  “Perfectly safe is always a lie, Genevieve. But you’re close with me here.”

  Chapter Four

  Clive strolled through the outer doors to his office and knew immediately he wasn’t going to like whatever his assistant, Alice, had to tell him.

  “Scion Stewart.” She tipped her chin down in deference. “I’ve just put some tea in your office so you’re right on time. I believe we may want to have a brief meeting before you begin your evening.”

  A chill crept down his spine, but he followed her into his office, hung up his suit jacket, and settled behind his desk while she took her usual place across from him.

  “Don’t waste time with any preamble. Tell me.”

  “The Nation has forwarded the response to Hunter Corp.” She handed over a sheet of paper.

  He scanned it and read it twice more before placing it on the center of his desk blotter. Running a palm down a tie that didn’t need straightening, he allowed a sigh.

  Rowan would most definitely not be pleased. And it was probably the reason his wife hadn’t been at home when he’d woken for the day.

  A quick check of their bond and he was satisfied she wasn’t in pain, incandescent with rage, or sad. A plus.

  “No response from Hunter Corp. as of yet?” he asked Alice.

  “Not that’s been routed to us. I know someone within the Nation who would alert me should such a thing happen though.”

  Rowan liked to call Alice a Vampire Mary Poppins because she was so accomplished at so many things. She seemed to know everyone. Was adept at fighting as well as the sort of management and diplomacy it took to manage a Scion.

  Of course she had a source at the Nation offices. He allowed a satisfied smile. “Well done, Alice.” He pointed at the paper. “This is nothing but trouble. Tahar has allowed the powerful within his territory far too much leeway on this.” One of the five Scions worldwide, the Vampire charged with the governance of those in Africa and the Middle East was very old and powerful and had the attention of the First if for no other reason than Tahar posed a legitimate threat should he choose to.

  “I expect however Rowan and Hunter Corp. decide to reply will be an absolute delight. She’s quite clever. Those bigoted old arseholes in Tahar’s territory are in for it.” Alice laughed.

  Clive wished very much that if this nonsense had to happen, it was happening six months from then. Rowan had enough on her shoulders, the grief at the loss of those she’d loved so much still a cloak around her. It wasn’t going to make her easier for the Nation to manipulate and amuse itself with. No. This Rowan, the one who’d had her wrath, had eradicated those directly responsible. And now she was in absolutely no mood for nonsense and games.

  “There’ll be blood,” he murmured.

  Alice took a deep breath. “We must endeavor to be sure it’s not hers.”

  He needed to give Alice a raise.

  “I expect someone from Nadir’s office will be in contact at some point. Right now these pompous Vampire lords will be feeling rather smug. But eventually Hunter Corp. will respond.”

  Clive knew his wife wasn’t going to give the Nation whatever it was this response was meant to elicit. To do so would be admitting weakness.

  Rowan was many things. Weak wasn’t in their number.

  His wife was about to deliver a master-class-level lesson and if she weren’t already struggling through so much, he’d look forward to watching them all bleed for it.

  Alice briefed him on some other urgent issues and left to go back to her desk.

  Clive sat awhile and considered contacting Nadir via her direct line and decided against it. She knew his position. He’d already submitted his commentary regarding the Hunter Corp. mixed-team plans. He didn’t support it wholesale. There were things that needed to be addressed and he bulleted them with proposals regarding how the Nation could negotiate a better outcome. And now, none of that would happen. This ridiculousness would result in pushing her and by extension Hunter Corp. further away.

  Clive would bet Nadir and those who did know Rowan weren’t even close to celebrating. They knew what was coming.

  The only person he needed to contact for sure was his wife. He considered calling her rather than texting, but in the end, he was fairly certain she’d ignore a call from any Vampire at that moment so a text—which she might also ignore—would be more likely to at least be scanned.

  Good evening, darling Hunter. Meet me for dinner later? 10? Do take care of yourself.

  If he could coax her into dinner, at least know if she’d eaten. And if he got her face-to-face, he’d be able to charm her and perhaps blunt the severity of the argument they’d be having.

  There’d be consequences of all types now that the Vampires had chosen the way they had to make their first move. They’d only managed to push her harder toward doing whatever it was she wanted to do. Only now, she’d be petty. And most likely violent.

  Mmmm. He smiled, thinking of the way Rowan looked when she was worked up. Magnificent. As long as he wasn’t the target.

  Three hours later his screen lit with her return text.

  That’s what you choose to text me?

  It’d been a risk that failed. He’d known it when she hadn’t replied within thirty minutes.

  He decided to call her instead and to his surprise, she answered.

  “What?” she barked.

  “I’m pleased to hear you did, indeed, take care of yourself this evening and are alive and well. As for the rest, shall we save this for when we’re together? Over some carbohydrates and some wine?” he asked, keeping his tone smooth.