CHAPTER 11
Fiona huddled in the corner of the plushly upholstered sofa and hugged her knees to her chest with one hand while the other clutched a slim remote control. Her thumb pressed automatically on the button to surf through the five hundred channels, but she didn’t really see what was on any of them. All her attention was focused on the sick feeling in the pit of her stomach that she felt whenever she thought about the cab ride back to Vircolac, which was pretty much constantly. So she flipped and brooded, flipped and brooded.
Her Sunday-go-to-Dionnu’s clothes had been replaced by a pair of black yoga pants and an oversize knit top. She didn’t know who they belonged to or where they had come from. Someone had pressed them into her hands a few minutes after Walker had abandoned her in the club’s front hall. She didn’t remember who had given them to her; she didn’t even remember who had let them in the front door or who it was Walker had left her with. She only remembered that Walker had refused to speak to her and that the taxi had been full of chilly silence. He hadn’t even looked at her when he dropped her off—just left her standing in the hallway, growled something about taking some personal time, and disappeared again without so much as a backward glance. The man really knew how to stroke a girl’s ego.
To be fair, the doorman, or whoever it was Walker had stuck her with, had been very kind. She couldn’t recall his name or even what he looked like, but she had registered his solicitous air and how he’d bustled her off to this private little den at the back of the club’s second floor. He’d tried to offer her something to eat, something to drink, but the concept of swallowing remained beyond her. The clothes must have come from him, too, she guessed. He’d waited patiently outside the door while she changed and had taken her skirt and top away with him when he left. To have them laundered, she might have heard him say.
Since then, she’d been curled up on this sofa, idly staring at the flickering television screen, unable to muster up any interest in anything. The uncomfortable, churning feeling in her stomach was as unpleasant as it was unfamiliar. She didn’t quite know what to call it, but she knew Walker had put it there, and she knew she wanted it to go away. Right now.
She just didn’t understand mortals. Okay, so maybe they tended to be sort of wary of magic, but Walker was Other, not human, and it wasn’t like she’d been using magic on him. She hadn’t ensorcelled him; she hadn’t even put him under a glamour. And she hadn’t been taking his magic, either. It wasn’t her fault that every time they touched, magic just happened. It took her as much by surprise as it had him. No one had ever made her feel anything like the jolt of heat and energy that hit her every time their lips met, and asking her not to absorb that magic amounted to asking her not to absorb any oxygen when she breathed. There was no way.
But as often as Fiona tried to explain that to herself, she still huddled on the sofa, pouting and staring and feeling that horrible roiling in the pit of her stomach. She didn’t even look up when the door to the den opened. The doorman-or-whoever had stuck his head in every so often to check on her, but whatever was wrong with her, he couldn’t fix it.
“You were right.” Instead of the doorman-or-whoever’s soothing baritone, the new voice coining from the doorway sounded husky but feminine and a little bit impatient. “It does look like an emergency.”
“Absolutely. It’s intervention time, and I can see we’re not a minute too soon.”
The addition of a second woman’s voice stirred Fiona’s curiosity enough for her to turn her head. Two women stood in the doorway, both blond, both in their early thirties, and both staring at Fiona with expressions of mixed sympathy and exasperation.
“Move out of the way and let me set down this tray.” The second woman spoke again, nudging the other one forward and following her into the room. The second woman’s hands were full of a large wooden tray that she set on the cocktail table in front of Fiona. Then she sat on the sofa beside her and faced her with a smile. “Once we get some tea in you, we can get acquainted. Trust me. Everything seems more manageable after a cup of Tess’s tea.”
“It ought to,” the first woman said, settling herself on the floor in front of the coffee table and reaching for a gently steaming teapot. “This is my special ‘All Men Are Blockheaded Idiots’ blend.”
“Around here, we drink a lot of it.” The second woman accepted two mugs of the brew and handed one to Fiona.
“Um, thanks, but I’m really not thirsty.”
“Drink it,” the woman on the floor ordered, her bright blue eyes narrowed.
Bemused, Fiona found herself accepting the mug and sniffing the fragrant beverage. It smelled of herbs and flowers and rich earth, enticing her in spite of herself.
“Really. It will make you feel better. Clear your head.” The one beside her gave her a sweet, encouraging smile. “You’ll need a clear head if you’re going to find the right way to make the man pay.” Fiona choked on her tea. “Oops! Careful. It’s hot. By the way, I’m Missy, and this is Tess. She owns a tea and herb shop in the East Milage.”
“Nice to meet you.” Tess grinned. She had a headful of rioting golden curls and innocent feminine features dominated by big blue eyes with a distinctly wicked glint. She wore a hip-hugging pair of faded blue jeans and a low-cut sweater the color of ripe berries. If it hadn’t been for her lush, earthy curves, Fiona might have mistaken her for another Fae at first glance. A nymph, maybe. She definitely had her fingers in some magic. The glow of it suffused her fair skin with light and energy. She had to be one of the mortal magic users—a witch. “It’s always encouraging to see new blood joining the Sisterhood.”
“The Sisterhood?”
“The Benevolent and Protective Order of Women with Idiot Men on Their Hands. But ‘The Sisterhood’ fit better on the stationery.”
“Tess can get a little carried away with the solidarity imagery.” Missy grinned.
Though also blond, Missy’s hair was long and fine and nearly straight, a dark ashy shade that should have looked mousy but instead acted as a perfect frame to set off the sweetness and purity of her features. Her round, rosy cheeks and wide hazel eyes gave her an angelic girl-next-door look that was entirely human and completely enchanting. She had pulled her hair back into a wispy ponytail in keeping with the image, and her petite, curvy form was covered by a pair of snug gray yoga pants and what looked like a man’s chambray shirt. The sleeves were rolled up nearly to the shoulder seams, and the tails bounced around her knees.
“If Tess tries to show you the secret handshake, just smile and nod until one of us slips her her medication.”
“Ah, it’s nice to meet you. I’m Fiona.”
“We know,” Tess said.
“You met our husbands this morning,” Missy explained. “Graham Winters and Rafe De Santos. Graham is mine.”
“Which makes Rafe my cross to bear. They told us—after many demands, glares, and threats, mind you, but whatever works—that you’ve spent the last twenty-four hours in the company of our own Tobias Walker, pack beta, security genius, wolf’s wolf, and all around dim-witted moron.”
“We came to offer our condolences,” Missy said. “At least, that was going to be why we came, but when we got to the club, Richards told us Tobias had abandoned you here and gone raging off in the worst temper he’d ever seen. So we wanted to find out what happened.”
Tess nodded. “And change the condolences to a conspiracy to commit murder, if that would be more helpful.”
Fiona winced. “Killing him seems kind of drastic. I’ve been thinking a lot, and he may have a point—”
“Oh no. Nonono. Quick! Drink that tea.” Tess shook her head and gave Fiona a pitying glance. “That kind of thinking is just crazy talk, not to mention asking for trouble. Remember, the man is always wrong. It’s the only way to keep them in line.”
“Maybe it would help if you told us the whole story? Don’t worry. We’ll still be on your side. We have to stick together, after all. But I find it’s always helpful to get things out in the open.”
Swallowing a mouthful of tea, Fiona grimaced. Not at the drink, which was actually deliciously warm and soothing, but at the prospect of doing anything to add fuel to that thing going on in her stomach. Unfortunately, the two women watched her steadily, and she got the feeling that neither one of them was likely to move until she spilled her guts. Taking a deep breath, she wrapped her hands around her mug and gave a defensive shrug. “I’m afraid he thinks I attacked him. Sexually.”
The two women blinked. They looked at each other, looked back at Fiona, and blinked again.
“And you think he had a problem with that?” Tess finally managed, sounding kind of choked.
Missy reached over and patted Fiona’s knee. “Oh, honey. The man probably just couldn’t find the words to thank you.”
That drew a reluctant laugh. “Somehow, I don’t think those were the words that popped into his mind. He said I used him.”
“All right. That’s it.” Tess picked up a cookie, half-rose from the floor, and reached over to pop the treat into Fiona’s surprised mouth. “Chew, then spill.”
Much to Fiona’s surprise, she found herself doing just that. As soon as she swallowed the last crumb of chocolate, she opened her mouth and let the whole story pour out. She told these two women everything, from the demon attack in Inwood Park through the toe-curling, mind-boggling, thigh-clenching kisses and up to the unbearable cab ride to the club. By the time she finished, she was leaning against Missy’s shoulder, letting the Silverback luna stroke her hair while she sniffled like a human.
“Oh, sweetie,” Tess said, watching Fiona with sympathy-filled eyes. “You have landed yourself in a pickle.”
“Tess, I don’t think that’s very helpful,” Missy scolded.
“Maybe not, but it’s true,” Tess said, and Fiona winced, sniffling harder. “She made a major tactical error. She tried to apologize.”
“But he wouldn’t let me finish. I tried to say I’m sorry—”
“For what? What the heck did you do wrong? Use magic? Give me a break! He needs to get over himself.” Tess shook her head and drained her cup.
Missy nodded. “It’s a good thing you didn’t get to finish that explanation of yours. That would have really set you back.”
Fiona pushed back into a sitting position and stared at the two women. “Are you serious?”
“Of course. Neither of us can stop you from feeling guilt, but we can tell you you’ve got nothing to feel guilty about.” Missy’s tone was matter-of-fact and she leaned forward to refill her mug.
Fiona stared at her new friend, trying to spot the second head. “You’re really serious?”
“Lord, but he did a number on you,” Tess said, shaking her head. “Yes, we are serious about Mr. Self-Righteous going a wee bit overboard. Look, did he know you were Fae?”
Fiona hesitated. “Well, by the time I regained consciousness—the first time—yes.”
“Did you take any of his personal energy?”
“No—”
“And did he respond to any of these kisses you forced on him that he later objected to so strenuously?”
Fiona nodded.
“Then what the hell is he whining about?”
“What Tess means—”
“I thought that was pretty clear,” Tess mumbled.
“What Tess means,” Missy continued, “is that you didn’t do anything to Tobias that he couldn’t have stopped if he’d tried. He’s a big boy, Fiona. He knows how to take care of himself. In fact, that’s kind of what he does for a living.”
“But he told me not to kiss him again—”
Tess snorted. “Sure. After his tongue made a thorough exploration of your tonsils.”
“But—”
“No buts.” Missy gave her a stern look. “Tess is right. The man can’t tear your clothes off with one hand and push you away with the other, so to speak. That’s just not right. Not to mention being plain ol’ poor sportsmanship.”
“Exactly. See, Walker’s not really mad at you,” Tess said. “He’s mad at himself because he wants you so bad he can hardly stand it, but he has that ridiculous idea men get that he’s not allowed to have you.”
Fiona frowned, but for the first time in hours, her stomach began to settle down. “You mean all those nasty accusations… all of those were just because he’s frustrated? He made me miserable because he got his boxers in a bunch?”
“Well, there’s also the fact that from what you’ve told us, he’s also had to see you put yourself in danger a couple of times, and that wouldn’t sit well with him, either,” Missy said. “Especially not when he wants you as badly as he obviously does. Oh, I’m sure he’s telling himself he’s feeling very ill-used over the magic thing, but that’s just because he’s a Lupine male, and trust me, Lupine males are all but constitutionally unable to admit when they’re wrong.”
Tess sighed. “Believe me. They ain’t the only ones.”
Eyes wide, Fiona pressed a hand to her suddenly calm stomach. She felt as if she’d just gotten a free ride from her aunt for a major infraction. A huge weight lifted from her and took the clenching in her belly with it. “I can’t believe the nerve. I can’t believe he put me through all this just because he’s got issues.”
“Oh, honey. He doesn’t just have ‘sues. He’s got big, floppy clown ‘sues. The kind with the frilly white cuffs at the ankles.”
“I mean, let’s not totally discount the fact that you freaked him out,” Missy said, tempering things. “I’m sure it came as a surprise. Sure, there are stories here and there about the Fae gathering energy from events around them, but hearing is different from experiencing. Especially when I’m sure he figured the chances of him ever actually coming into close contact with one of the Fae were pretty remote. The last one around here was my friend Corinne’s husband, Luc, and they haven’t been in the city in years. And when they were here, they didn’t have much time for socializing.”
“Hush, Miss. You’ll ruin her budding mad-on.” Tess made a face at Fiona. “Missy’s a sweetheart, but sometimes she tends to be a little soft on the offenders.”
Fiona listened to both women and decided the truth might be somewhere between the two points of view, but this time her stomach remained calm. Apparently, not blaming him for everything didn’t mean she had to shift all the responsibility to herself.
“I’m not being soft on anyone,” the luna protested. “I’m just saying that maybe if they each gave the other a little more understanding, they’d both be happier.”
“Right. So they can move on to jumping each other’s bones.”
Fiona grinned.
“Missy!”
All three women jerked their heads in response to the shout, turning to see the door vibrate in its frame for a second before it slammed open. Missy jumped to her feet and hurried over to meet Graham. He wore the same clothes Fiona had seen him in that morning, but now he’d accessorized with two toddler boys. One perched on his shoulder, chubby baby hands fisted in his rumpled brown hair, while the other sat on Graham’s left boot, arms and legs wrapped around his calf with a tenacious grip. Fiona looked from the little boys to the alpha’s face and found his expression impatient but surprisingly unfrazzled.
“Miss, I need you to take the hellhounds,” he said, reaching up to detangle the younger boy’s fingers from his hair with the ease of long practice. “I have to go out, and I’m not sure when I’ll be back.”
Reaching out, Missy took her son from his father and settled him on her hip. “Of course, but what’s going on? Is it pack?”
Graham shook his head and lifted the other boy off his boot, setting him on his own two small feet next to Missy. She immediately reached down to take his hand. “I don’t know. I hope not. Walker called. A patrol found something near the park. A body. Human. It was mauled pretty badly.”
Missy blanched. “He thinks it was an Other? He thinks an Other did it?”
“He doesn’t know. It could be. But there’s also the demon that attacked Fiona to consider, not to mention your garden-variety human psychopath. I need to go take a look.” He leaned forward and gave her a fast, firm kiss. “I don’t know when I’ll be back, but I’ll try to call if it looks like it’ll be too late.”
Fiona jumped up from the sofa. “I’m coming with you.”
Graham turned on her with a snarl. “That would not be a good idea, Princess. I don’t need you getting in the way, and Walker doesn’t need you pulling any more of your tricks while he’s trying to work.”
Since she had her hands full of her children, Missy simply drew back her right foot and kicked her mate solidly in the shins.
“Ow! Shit!”
“Watch your mouth in front of the boys,” she snapped, glaring at him. “You deserved that. You should know better than to make snap judgments about people before you hear the whole story. Shame on you.”
Fiona’s eyes widened, but she kept her mouth shut. Unlike Tess, who watched from her spot on the floor and snickered.
Graham glared at them both. “I’m not judging anyone,” he said, his teeth clenched. “I just don’t have time to referee between these two when I’ve got a critical situation on my hands.”
“You won’t be refereeing me,” Fiona said, lifting her chin and meeting his glare. “I can control myself, but if there’s a possibility that this is a demon attack, you need me there. We went over this just this morning. I’m the closest thing you’ve got to a demon consultant. Do you want to potentially let a trail go cold because you’re sticking up for your boy?”
Graham opened his mouth, intercepted his wife’s warning glare, and closed it with a snap.
“Rafe did mention that part of the conversation,” Tess piped up with a grin. Fiona almost expected her to burst into flame from the heat of Graham’s glare.
Outnumbered, outclassed, and one false move from the doghouse, Graham gave in disgracefully. “Fine, but I’m leaving now. If you’re not ready to go, I’m not waiting around.”
Fiona looked down at her sock-clad feet and swore. Missy saw the problem and, in an impressive display of motherly balance, toed off her tennis shoes without so much as shifting her grip on her sons. “I’m a six and a half. I hope that’s close enough.”
“It’ll do.” Fiona stepped into the shoes without bothering to untie them. Since she wore a 6 normally, the half size of extra room made the job a lot easier. Then she looked at Graham and raised her eyebrow. “Ready when you are, boss.”
Muttering something unintelligible and uncomplimentary, Graham spun on his heels and stalked out the door with Fiona sticking one step behind him. She just hoped he wouldn’t mind her staying there when Walker saw her coming. If her nemesis had to go through the alpha to get to her, it might slow him down just enough to let her live.