“Right.”
***
Brynn’s mind was spinning with information and emotions by the time they tracked down Bishop and McQueen in the back room of the auction house. The conversation with Archimedes had not yielded the dearth of knowledge that she’d hoped for, but it had clarified one simple thing for her: her father wasn’t surprised by the existence of the hybrids or the possibility of Magus assistance. Granted, she hadn’t told him that it was actually a Magus-loup hybrid, but his reaction had been the same.
As she’d told Rook upstairs, it meant her father already knew something of current events. The question was, how much and was he involved? She couldn’t shake the sour feeling that had settled in her stomach that morning when she first realized Fiona was a hybrid. And if Brynn believed that Chelsea Butler was Fiona’s mother, it meant Fiona’s father was a fire elemental Magus. Given the small number of fire elementals, it meant Brynn’s own father had a sporting chance of being that Magus.
No. She could believe a great many things about Archimedes Atwood. He was loyal to the Congress of Magi, and he would ruthlessly protect their interests. He demanded perfection, and he’d been cursed with an imperfect daughter. He was extremely prejudiced in matters pertaining to the vampires and loup garou, creatures the Magi considered far below their station. He also believed in the sanctity of bloodlines—something he had instilled in her as both a warning and a punishment.
“A good match is necessary in all things,” he’d said. “Do not muddy a strong bloodline out of lust or weakness.”
Knowing she was weak and destined for a bad match had only made his words hurt more. Her father was many things, but he was not a murderer. He would not collude with disreputable scientists in order to create Magus hybrid children. He would not condone the slaughter of hundreds of innocent loup garou.
Avesta, let me be right about him. Please.
“I appreciate your efforts,” McQueen said to her. “At the moment there is little else we can do. The recovery team we sent to the trailer found it burned to the ground, with what looked like the remains of a shifted loup. There was no sign of the sisters.”
“So they’ve gone back to their home base,” Rook said.
“That seems likely. Their initial plan to capture Knight failed, so they will probably regroup and come at us from a different direction.”
“Possibly head-on this time,” Bishop said.
A direct attack against Cornerstone seemed unlikely, given the size of the population, as well as the sheer acreage over which the town was spread. From what she understood, Stonehill had been a very small town, centered around a few major buildings, and Potomac was little more than an encampment. Cornerstone was too large for four hostiles to engage on their own.
On the other hand, just because they only had proof of four hostiles, they could not assume more didn’t exist somewhere.
“How’s Shay doing?” Brynn asked.
“Physically, she’s healing,” McQueen replied. “Emotionally . . . Dr. Mike says she’s become catatonic. She’s slipped into her own mind, and she won’t speak or acknowledge anyone. Hasn’t for a few hours now.”
Brynn hurt for the damaged young woman. She couldn’t begin to imagine the pain and emotional wreckage heaped upon Shay Butler. Brynn had weathered a few bombshells herself these last few days, but nothing so devastating as the slaughter of her entire community. “Is Knight with her?”
“Knight’s doing his best.”
The subtle change in Rook’s body language caught her attention. She couldn’t quite put her finger on the difference—more tension, perhaps.
McQueen gave her a benign smile. “Ms. Atwood, as I said before, you’re a guest and not my prisoner. However, it’s probably still best if you limit your movements for the time being.”
“I understand.” Exploring hadn’t been first on her agenda, but she was disappointed in not being able to see more of Cornerstone. She’d yet to wander past the half mile of road between the auction house and the McQueen home. Then her stomach rumbled, and breakfast suddenly felt like a long time ago.
Rook nudged her with his elbow. “Why don’t we go see what Mrs. Troost has fixed up for lunch?”
They excused themselves and returned to the sweltering afternoon sunshine. The clouds had disappeared, leaving behind a lovely blue sky that stretched to the edges of the mountains all around the valley in which Cornerstone had been built. Rook stayed close as they walked back down the same brief length of Main before turning onto the narrow street that led back to the McQueen house. The silence between them was comfortable, rather than awkward. The only thing that bothered her was not being able to hold Rook’s hand; she was not yet brave enough to risk that.
With the secret of her Magus identity out, she no longer felt the need to hide from the many faces who came and went from the McQueen house on an hourly basis. Two male loup she recognized by sight were already eating in the dining room when she and Rook entered. They gave polite nods to both of them, and she pretended to not notice the way their noses crinkled as they scented her. She’d decided to leave the medallion on in order to confuse her scent—so far, only a handful of people knew of her loup blood, and she preferred the majority smelling human and loup, rather than Magus and loup. She couldn’t explain why it felt safer that way.
Mrs. Troost had laid out a platter of sandwich fixings, as well as a platter of sliced veggies and a large bowl of mixed salad—standard lunch fare, according to Rook. While they ate, they chatted idly over nonsensical topics such as books and music. Her love of historical subjects and their relevance to modern issues matched his enthusiasm for different brands of guitar strings and the notes they coaxed from his Córdoba Fusion. The conversation lasted long after their companions left, long after Rook deposited their dirty plates in a plastic basin near the kitchen door. It all seemed so normal, like a real first date might go if they were average people living average lives.
“Brynn, can I ask you something?” he asked after a discussion of big band music petered out.
“Of course.”
“Have you ever seen a shifted loup garou up close?”
Twenty-four hours ago, her answer would have been an emphatic no. “O’Bannen last night. I didn’t see the actual shift, and we were only together for a few seconds.”
“Did it scare you?”
“Not at the moment, no. I was more scared of the gun O’Bannen gave me and the odds of accidentally shooting myself in the foot.”
His lips twitched with amusement. “I’m glad you avoided that particular scenario.”
“So am I.”
“Our beasts aren’t as scary as you might think. During an intentional shift, we’re in complete control at all times.”
“What would be an unintentional shift?”
“Our quarterlies, which is why we have reinforced rooms. If a loup becomes malnourished or dehydrated, a shift is forced so the beast can protect them both. Very occasionally, emotional duress can force a shift.”
Malnourishment made her think of Shay. “What will happen if Shay can’t feed herself?”
“Most likely, Dr. Mike will insert a feeding tube. She’s under enough emotional stress that a forced shift will be devastating to her health.”
Avesta, protect her.
“You talk about the beast like it’s a separate entity.”
Rook nodded. “In some ways, yes. Nothing like multiple personalities, but the beast is a different side of a whole that only comes out at specific times. Those base urges are always there, in the back of my mind. I think my beast realized how attracted to you I was before I consciously understood. It was there from the first moment I saw you.”
A pleasant warmth settled in her belly, and she couldn’t quite explain it. He’d just told her that the wild, animalistic side of his nature had wanted her from the beginning, before the man side of his brain caught up. The confession should have worried her, made her wary of his affections. Instead, it made her smile. Hers wasn’t the only heart struck by Cupid’s arrow that day.
“May I see you?” Brynn asked.
“See me?”
She glanced around the empty room, oddly embarrassed by her request. “Your beast. Is that rude to ask?”
He chuckled softly. “No, it’s not rude.” A flash of doubt dimmed his smile as he hesitated in answering her first question. Then the full smile was back. “And yes, I’ll show you. Come with me.”
While she hadn’t expected him to shift in the middle of the dining room, he surprised her by taking her hand and leading her out into the backyard. The right rear of the fenced property had a large wooden shed. Behind it was a shaded area, protected on three sides by fence, bushes, and the back of the shed. The earth was partially covered in grass and the deconstructed remains of a children’s swing set sat piled in one corner.
Birds chirped high in the oak trees, and a gentle breeze rustled the leaves, creating an unexpected sense of peace.
“I prefer shifting outside,” Rook said. “Somehow the fresh air makes it hurt less.”
“How badly does shifting hurt?” She hated the idea of Rook causing himself pain.
“From what I’m told, a forced shift from stress or injury hurts much more than an intentional one. Bishop described it once as the sensation of having all of his fingernails ripped off one at a time.” Rook glanced at his bandaged fingertips and grimaced. “Guess I can empathize with that more now.”
Curiosity at the reason for Bishop’s forced shift nudged the back of her mind, but Brynn filed the questions away as “none of her business.” “How does a regular shift feel in relation to fingernails?”
He grinned. “Ever had a fingernail snag on something, and then rip off just below where the nail ends and the flesh starts?”
“Yes.” Memory of the sensation made the flesh on the backs of her legs crawl. She hated that instant flash of pain, followed by hours of a dull throb.
“Kind of like that. Hot pain at first, then a slow ache. Once the shift is complete, it doesn’t hurt anymore. How fast you try affects the pain, too.”
“What’s average?”
“A simple shift can take up to two or three minutes, if you aren’t in a hurry. It’s possible to rush a shift and do it in under one minute, but it hurts like hell and can take longer to recover from once you shift back.”
“Recover?”
“Think of it like a rechargeable battery. If I shift for thirty minutes, I’ve used thirty minutes of juice, and I need twice that time to recharge. I don’t necessarily have to sleep, but I’ll be hungry and can’t shift again for at least an hour while my body recovers and recharges.”
O’Bannen had completed his shift in less than a minute. “Your physiology is complicated. Our physiology.” She would never get used to that—the idea that she also carried loup garou genes, and had never even known it.
“It is complicated. Then again, there’s very little in life that’s truly simple.”
“Good point.”
Rook inched closer, caressing her with his presence and intensity, rather than his hands. “I’d like to kiss you again.”
Her heart leapt at the unexpected request. She loved that he asked permission. Other men in her life hadn’t extended that particular courtesy. Her trip to Cornerstone was the first time she’d left Chestnut Hill since the scandal that led to her dismissal as a Congress tutor, and Robert’s words came back to her. Only Robert had been wrong. Someone did want her. Rook wanted her. Her heart pitter-patted at Rook’s touch in a way it never had for Robert. Her skin tingled for Rook’s caress, and she smiled just hearing his voice say her name. Rook did not demand the use of her body. He asked. He respected.
Logic told her to be wary of Rook. He was powerful and strong, even in his human form. They were in a secluded place, far from prying eyes. He could silence her before she could scream for help.
Logic can go fuck itself.
Brynn answered his question with actions, rather than words.
Chapter Eighteen
Their third kiss was a quiet one, a gentle exploration like the first, rather than an explosion of passion like the second. Brynn enjoyed the sensations of mouths pressing and tasting in an easy give and take, filling her senses with the wildness of him. Making her ache in places long forgotten, awakening desires she had crushed beneath her shame. So different from the other kisses they’d shared, this one felt full of promise.
A promise of what she wasn’t certain. And for once, she didn’t mind.
Rook pulled back with a satisfied smile, then kissed the tip of her nose. “Thank you,” he said.
“My pleasure.”
He laughed and stroked a fingertip down the length of her jaw. “Not yet, but one day soon, I hope.” The sultry promise in those words sent a tingle down her spine. “First things first, though.”
She blinked at him, then furrowed her eyebrows, confused.
“My shift,” he said.
“Oh, yes.” She’d forgotten about that completely. “Should I do anything?”
His flirtatious smirk more than answered her question. “Just don’t do anything to distract me while I get naked.”
Her cheeks heated immediately. “Um, should I turn my back?”
“That’s up to you.”
She’d seen naked men before, and she certainly wouldn’t swoon at the sight of a penis, but this was Rook, for Avesta’s sake. She tried to imagine the bare skin beneath the black jeans and t-shirt he wore, clothes that hugged his toned body so perfectly. She wanted to see more of the tattoos that disappeared beneath the fabric, more of what she’d only glimpsed back at that motel.
Rook groaned. “On second thought, maybe you shouldn’t watch the whole thing. I’ll feel like I’m doing a strip tease, and I can’t shift with a hard-on.”
Her surprised laughter became an embarrassing abbreviated snort. “What if I promise to keep my ogling to a minimum?”
“You’d ogle me while I was naked?”
“Definitely.” Surely he knew how beautiful he was. Any woman with eyes would stare when he walked into a room, and she would smile, knowing he only wanted her.
He didn’t hide his own appraisal of her body, which lingered on her face and breasts, before he shut his eyes. “Damn it, this definitely won’t work if you look at me while I’m shifting.”