“…give us an update?” Duke asks.
It takes me a moment to tune in to him, and I surmise that he’s asking about Bram. If he wants new information, I have dealt with nothing else all day.
“My brother is resting but weakening. Neither Conrad nor Millie knows what ails him or how to heal him. I’ve no notion how to stop it unless we find his missing mate, Emma. He needs her energy to sustain his life force so he can heal.”
“I’ve got a call in to Aquarius,” Sydney assures. “As soon as I hear from her, I’ll let you know. We’ll find Emma.”
Even if we do, can we persuade her to care for the mate she took in a night of passion and abandoned before morning?
Silence overtakes the group again, punctuated only by the clink of forks and heavy sighs. I block as many thoughts as I can and eat a few more bites of my dinner before admitting defeat. Even the smell of food is making my stomach roil.
I stand to leave, and Lucan stays me with a hand at my elbow. I send him a startled glance.
Before he can speak, Ice growls, glaring at Lucan as if he intends to come out of his chair, across the table, and commit violence.
Ice wants me, and I swallow back a hot surge of answering desire. Oh, god. Does he suspect how deeply he affects me? If I ever find myself alone with him…no. Nothing would be more dangerous.
“You cannot be finished,” Lucan chides, scowling at my still-full plate.
I fold my napkin on the table and rise. “I must return to Bram. Thank you, ladies,” I say to Sydney and Olivia.
Before I can extricate myself from Lucan’s grip and depart, bells chime through the house. A magical calling card that announces a visitor’s request to enter the premises.
From Anka MacTavish, Lucan’s former mate.
Beside me, Lucan tenses, his face a wrenching mixture of anger and yearning. I feel the intensity of his pain gripping my chest, sharp and panicky, like someone suffocating. No doubt, whatever Lucan feels for me pales in comparison to the consuming love he still harbors for Anka.
Marrok stomps out of the room and down the corridor. I hear him open the front door. “She comes alone.”
Assured that neither Shock Denzell, the supposed double agent, nor Mathias with his Anarki followers have tailed her, I release the last bit of security around the house so that Anka can enter the room.
The first thing I notice is that the woman looks healthier than before…but not completely well. Shadows still lurk beneath her eyes, and her magical signature is dim. Is she not gathering enough energy in Shock’s bed? Or perhaps he’s taking more than he’s giving?
Lucan’s gaze is still glued to his former mate. Despair tinges his thoughts, and I ache for him. I understand wanting someone beyond reach.
Anka glances at Lucan, then at his hand upon mine. Hurt flares across her face before her amber stare skitters across the table and rests on Duke. “I need to see Bram.”
Duke hesitates, then casts a quick gaze at Lucan, who gives a small shake of his head.
“He’s not here,” Duke lies.
So they’ve surmised that because Anka is sleeping with a wizard they all presume to be the enemy, she can’t be trusted? The witch’s thoughts push past my defenses, revealing her truth: in throwing her lot in with Shock, she has run to the man most able to protect her and least likely to make demands after her ordeal at Mathias’s hands.
Anka tosses fat, blond ringlets off her slender shoulders, her broken magical signature still matching Lucan’s, indicating their severed mate bond.
“He doesn’t seem to be anywhere,” Anka says, clearly frustrated. “I’ve been calling for him since dusk.”
“Council business. What do you need?” Duke snaps.
Anka presses her lips together, sends Lucan another uncertain glance, then addresses Duke again. “Earlier this evening, I overheard some alarming things.”
Since Anka is living under Shock’s roof and sleeping in his bed, she must have heard whatever she’s come to say at his place, probably from Shock himself. Did he get the information from Mathias?
“Go on,” I prompt Anka.
“I-I couldn’t keep any of this to myself. Not when there are so many people here I…care for.”
Duke gestures her to the chair at the far end of the table. Anka sits, as do I. Lucan follows suit. He doesn’t relinquish his hold on my arm, and I know he needs the support. He might turn to me because I’m convenient and will expect nothing in return—but at least for now, his heart still belongs to Anka.
