Nothing made sense. She hadn’t protested when Jillian suggested they go to the kitchen and get some coffee. Coffee sounded nice, and she needed to escape Rook for a little while. After their brief kiss the night before, she could think of nothing else when she looked at him and she’d purposely chosen a seat on the opposite side of the library. She cared more than she should, had grown attached to a man she’d initially come here to question as a murderer—and what if she was one day forced to be his enemy? She also didn’t know what her vision of him and her father meant, or when his death was supposed to occur. Her father’s safety came before a man she’d known for less than three days, no matter her personal feelings for him.
Brynn blew across the top of her mug of coffee, then inhaled the rich aroma. Mrs. Troost warned her that she brewed it strong, because that’s how the boys liked it. Brynn and Jillian had taken their coffee out to the backyard and were sitting at the patio table. The sun was hiding behind a few passing clouds, but that gave little relief to the humid heat of the day. The back of her borrowed sundress already stuck to Brynn’s shoulders, and she desperately wanted her own clothes.
Despite the disappointment and solitary life waiting for her there, she wanted to be at home, in a familiar place where her world made sense—not sitting outside on a summer morning drinking hot coffee with the daughter of a loup garou Alpha, contemplating the surreal turns her life had taken in the last few days.
“You’re fond of Rook, aren’t you?” Jillian asked.
Brynn’s hand jerked, and she almost upset her mug. “What?”
“I suspect he’s just as fond of you. It’s as obvious in how he doesn’t look at you, as it is in how he does.”
“Of course I’m fond of him. He’s been very generous with me, considering I nearly killed him.”
Jillian’s eyebrows arched. “And you don’t think his easy forgiveness is an indication of his feelings?”
She felt as though she’d been thrust into the middle of a conversation already in progress. Jillian couldn’t possibly have guessed that she and Rook had kissed. Perhaps she was just incredibly perceptive and fishing for answers. Brynn wanted to deny it and move on, but what was the point of lying? Her own feelings confused her, and while she and Jillian weren’t friends, they also weren’t enemies. Brynn had no other women in whom to confide.
“I don’t think either one of us is sure about our feelings,” Brynn said. “He’s a loup garou and I’m a Magus. We don’t make any sense together, and yet . . .”
“You want him anyway?”
“I’m certainly drawn to him. He’s attractive and honorable and so loyal to his family.”
He looks at me like I’m the only person in the world who matters and he’d do anything to protect me.
She wanted so badly the knowledge that someone would always fight for her. Stand up for her the way no man ever had—even her own father. “And he believes in my visions. He believes in me in way that no one else ever has.”
“Your visions are useful to him.”
Brynn flinched. The truth in the words did nothing to lessen their sting. Is that why she was still here? McQueen saw her as a means to an end? Someone useful to keep around in case she had another relevant vision?
Did it matter?
“My entire life, I’ve been irrelevant,” Brynn said. “A burden to my father and my people. If Rook and his father find my visions useful, then so be it. Odd as it may seem, I enjoy their company.” She never imagined being so at ease in a town full of loup garou.
Or perhaps that sense of ease was simply a product of Knight’s White influence. That first day in the auction house office she had been shocked that he could affect her. She’d always believed loup could only affect other loup, but he’d proven otherwise by touching her mind and calming her down. She fiddled with the amulet around her neck, comforted by its presence.
“Have you considered the consequences of your flirtation?” Jillian asked. “How it will affect Rook’s status here?”
Brynn’s mind stuttered at the direct question. “I have no idea, but I’m assuming that Rook does.”
“Rook is a Black Wolf, and he’s the son of the Alpha. By all rights, he can choose to become Alpha of the Cornerstone run when their father retires or dies.”
“I know that.”
“Do you also know that Bishop, who is the eldest son, has been training to take over as Alpha for his entire life? It is very rare that a third son is Black, but being Black carries a higher status for Rook, despite his birth order.”
“So if Rook chooses to not become Alpha, then the position becomes Bishop’s.” It all seemed logical enough.
“Exactly. The question, it seems, is how badly Rook wishes to be Alpha. He’s strong and he seems capable, but I’m an outsider. I cannot judge his capability, but as another future Alpha of her run, I understand the importance of the current Alpha’s successor. The run cannot sense any weakness from their new Alpha, or it could be disastrous.”
The puzzle pieces fell into place, and Brynn understood. “I would be considered a weakness, because I’m a Magus.”
“Yes. The fact is, Brynn, that Rook McQueen will never be Alpha if he chooses you. Keep that in mind as you pursue him.”
The heat of the day did nothing to stop the chill spreading through Brynn’s chest and spine and wrapping around her heart. She wanted to hate Jillian for being so blunt, but she valued honesty too much. And Brynn would have hated herself for unknowingly taking the position of Alpha out of Rook’s grasp—especially if that was truly the future he wanted. She was an outsider, a brief acquaintance and no more than a passing fancy. He had the future of his entire town to think about, and that mattered more than her own selfish desires.
“I understand,” Brynn said.
“If it helps, I know what it’s like to choose duty to your people over what your heart wants. Positions of power often leave us few options, but the strongest among us learn to adapt.” A flash of sadness crossed Jillian’s face, there and gone so quickly it may have been Brynn’s imagination, but she doubted it.
“May I ask you a question?”
Jillian nodded. “Of course.” Now that she’d spoken her piece, her entire face had softened. The angular, asymmetrical features had smoothed out, and her eyes seemed less cold. She almost looked friendly.
“Do you want to be Alpha of your run when your father retires?”
“It’s the only future I’ve ever known. Only one in four women are born Black Wolves, as I am, and I had the added luck of being the first child of the Alpha. Both positions entitle me to inherit the run one day, even though it generally passes through the son. My mother died when I was three, giving birth prematurely to what would have been my brother, only he died as well a few days later. Father never remarried, but I had a dozen different mothers to step in and help raise me.”
“What about you? How does marriage work for you?”
“That’s where it gets tricky.” Jillian blew a hard breath through her mouth, which fanned her bangs in a comical fashion. “As a Black and as the future Alpha, I cannot marry a wolf below my own status, which means only Black or White. Common Gray Wolves are out of the question.”
Brynn was following along, for once, and she offered a conclusion of her own. “And since the only White Wolf of marrying age is Knight, your romantic choices are limited to Black wolves.”
“Correct.” She drummed her fingers along the top of the patio table. “All of the Black Wolves in my run know this, so there isn’t a day I can escape from the posturing and gestures of intent. Father expects me to choose another husband soon, but the man I choose will also become the Alpha Male of our run, so I must choose carefully.”
“Another husband?”
Jillian’s eyes flashed with grief. “I was widowed two years ago. My husband, Derek, and I had been married less than a year before he was killed in a car accident.”
“I’m so sorry.”
“Thank you. He would have been a fantastic Alpha Male, had he been given the chance. His successor has very large shoes to fill, if you’ll forgive the expression.”
“No possibilities?”
“Not at the moment, but a choice must be made in the next few years. My father was set to retire once already.”
Brynn sighed, her sympathy for the woman growing by leaps and bounds. “Follow your heart or choose who’s best for the run. That’s a terrible sort of choice.”
“And Rook is in a similar position with you. Fortunately, you’ve both just met. There’s little chance of feelings being destroyed if you end it now.” Jillian’s tone had taken on a somewhat distant quality, as though she wasn’t quite speaking about Brynn and Rook anymore—rather about herself and someone else.
The idea piqued Brynn’s interest in the other woman, who had more layers to her than Brynn originally thought. She could come to like Jillian Reynolds.
“Thank you, Ms. Reynolds,” Brynn said. “I genuinely appreciate your insight.”
“Call me Jillian, and you’re welcome.”
Jillian excused herself to make a phone call, and Brynn settled back in her chair. Maybe it was better this way, to put any thoughts of Rook out of her mind. She’d continue to help the Cornerstone loup in whatever way she could, but her involvement should end there. As much as her body craved him, she couldn’t have him. It would make returning home easier on everyone.
Her vision grayed, then a flash of pain blinded her.
***
Fire. Hot and furious, it roars and consumes. She knows this building, has been inside it, only she can’t see it properly. Dark sky above. People behind her shout. A wolf howls a long, loud signal. The fire continues to burn.
She shot up from the chair and it clattered over backward. The phantom stink of smoke surrounded her, there and gone in an instant. Another new vision—her third in as many days. She couldn’t be certain, but she made an educated guess that something in Cornerstone was going to burn down. She had to tell someone.
Jillian had disappeared into the house, and McQueen hadn’t assigned another enforcer to babysit her, so Brynn had no one to ask for help. She checked the library, only to find it empty. McQueen would likely have gone back to his office at the auction house. It was as good a place as any to start.
She’d never walked through Cornerstone by herself, and the moment she stepped onto the sidewalk in front of the McQueen home, she felt the skin-prickling sensation of being watched. No one was on the street or standing in a neighbor’s yard. She ignored the feeling and started walking. Halfway to Main Street, a figure stepped out of the shade of a large oak tree, right into the center of the sidewalk.
Brynn shouldn’t have stopped walking, should have continued past as though she had every right to be here, but she didn’t. She froze with less than ten feet between them. He was tall, muscular, with a head of shaggy dark hair and a crooked nose that had probably been broken more than once. His clothes were patched and frayed in places, but not dirty. He was also a stranger to Cornerstone. Brynn wasn’t certain how she knew that, but her instincts screamed that he was out of place here.
He sauntered toward her, limbs loose, expression openly curious. “You must be the mysterious seer that my father told me about,” he said in a slightly accented voice.
West Virginia. He’s one of the refugees. But how—father. He’s the Potomac Alpha’s son that McQueen mentioned.
Brynn squared her shoulders and lifted her chin, affecting her father’s favorite pose in order to hide her own nervousness. “I’m so sorry for your losses,” she said.
He blinked, seeming surprised that she knew who he was. His nose twitched as he scented her. “Thank you. Jonas Geary.”
She didn’t know if a loup garou who lived in a tent, fished from the river, and whose people owned one cellular telephone would recognize the name of a highly placed member of the Congress of Magi. She just didn’t want to start out by lying to him. “Brynn Atwood.”
“A pleasure, despite the circumstances.”
“Indeed.”
He sidled into her personal space, and she caught a strong scent of pine and musk. He was taller than her by a good eight inches, and the crowding forced her to look up. He didn’t touch her. He didn’t need to—they both knew he was faster and stronger, and in this proximity, she had no chance of escaping.
“Do you make it a habit of wanderin’ around alone?” he asked. “A beautiful girl like you?”
“I’m expected by Alpha McQueen in a few moments.”
“Sure you are.” His sly grin suggested he didn’t believe a word of her lie. “I just wanted to introduce myself to the woman who let my home be attacked and my people killed.”
Brynn’s insides twisted into cold knots. Alpha Geary and his son had more information than she assumed. After Potomac’s attack, Alpha McQueen had probably felt compelled to share what he knew about all of the players involved. It certainly made her question what the other run Alphas knew about her. “I cannot control the visions I see, or when I see them. I’m so sorry that my vision came too late to save your people.”
He leaned down, and it took all of her self-control to not back away as his nose ghosted across her cheek, over her hair. Breath hissed as he inhaled. He was uncomfortably close, practically nuzzling her ear, and then he pulled back far enough to look her in the eye. His brown and copper eyes gleamed with suspicion.
“Your scent is strange to me, Magus,” he said.
Her necklace must be confusing her scent, making her smell like a human rather than the Magus he knew her to be. She had half a mind to remove it, so he could sniff her and be done with this invasive exercise. “I really need to go.” The comment lacked force, and she knew it.
Jonas grabbed her left arm, his large hand easily wrapping around her bicep. He didn’t squeeze, but he held firm, and Brynn very nearly screamed. “You smell of loup garou, too, girl.” His voice lowered to a growl. “Been bedded by one of the brothers already, have you?”
Rather than let it intimidate her, Brynn bristled at the accusation. Her pulse jumped and with it rose her temper. She was no one’s whore. With a burst of adrenaline, she yanked her arm out of his grasp and almost gave him a sturdy shove backward—almost. She stopped herself before she committed a grave error in judgment, shocked that she’d immediately thought to resort to a violent action.