I pivoted to pin her against a brick wall. Didn’t care that every patron in the café across the street had gathered around the windows to see what was happening. “We can go back right now. Settle this in bed, and I don’t fucking care how much of a mess we might make.”
She draped her arms over my shoulders, languidly played with the dark hair at my nape. “The runes I sent to Metis and Aine—I only sent copies, not pages ripped from the book. The witch’s reaction was bad enough.”
My spine stiffened. “What reaction?”
She sent the details through our mate bond, nuzzling my throat as if she was making something up to me instead of revealing how a crystal darkened and turned to ash.
You are telling me this now?
Her fingers smoothed against the collar of my shirt. You promised no blood in the street.
With Anson.
Honestly, I thought the witch would have told you.
Canines flashed. She batted her eyelashes.
“Teamwork,” I gritted, “means we share communications, plans, and we don’t keep secrets.”
“We are a team, and I’m not keeping secrets.” She was looking over my shoulder. “Lec Rus is coming this way.”
I turned, protecting her behind my back as the Alpha of Alpen charged through the snow, panting irrationally for a broody prick. I sighed. Ground my teeth because I doubted that I’d keep my promise of no blood. Not that I wouldn’t try. But the aggression on the Alpen’s face told me what was coming next.
He was a bull of a man, muscled shoulders, short neck, more brute than brains. I hadn’t talked to him since the last fucked up mess called a Gathering, and the one Anson planned wasn’t likely to be different. Maybe no dead witches and nymphs or attacking creatures. But I didn’t hold much hope when it came to shouting and throwing things. Wolves had tempers.
Noa’s hands slid up and down my back; her touch shot through me with an arrowed heat that almost had me turning back to her and letting Lec Rus kiss my ass. Instead, I reached around and pinched her hip through the bulky sweater. She let out a little squeak, slapped her palms against my shoulders, and hissed, “Move.”
“Not on your life, sweetheart.”
“You’re crushing me, you big ass.”
“You’ve enjoyed it before.”
Her fingers dug into my sides. She was spitting her favorite word for me through our mental connection. I laughed, and asked, If I move, can you behave yourself with him?
Weren’t you the one who wanted to see me rip his throat out?
Her tirade continued, but I recognized the smile hidden beneath. I’d do anything to keep her smiling. Keep her above the dirt and violence and blood. Ten bucks I can take him in less than thirty seconds, I challenged, mind-to-mind.
Twenty if there’s no obvious blood.
Done. I grinned and stepped aside. She joined me on the sidewalk, arms crossed, pulling the sweater tight against her breasts and not realizing it until I scowled.
Her answering smirk came with a few tugs that didn’t stop until the sweater’s neckline dipped low enough to reveal cleavage.
“Hello, Lec,” she drawled. “I was so hoping to hear your apology.”
Puzzlement twisted his mouth. “Apology for what?”
“Calling me a fucking faille the last time we met.”
Gods—this woman had no filter around alphas, although I was standing here, giving her an unfair advantage.
“You owe me for a witch cave,” the Alpen said.
“I didn’t kill them.”
“But you collapsed a very lucrative income stream for me.”
