Coleman shoved his chair back from the table before anyone else could speak, dripping disdain as he rose. Power punched into Nick, pure, furious magic. “Congratulations on your participation in subverting our laws. I hope you’re proud of yourself.”
Anger swelled in her along with a magic to match his, surprising in its intensity and strength. “I’ve protected my family. I can’t think of anything I’d take more pride in, Mr. Coleman. Not a single thing.”
Looking away would be a sign of defeat. For a few uncomfortable moments, Nick thought he might try to stare her down. Instead he turned abruptly, giving her his back in a clear show of disrespect. “When the three of you stop drooling over Peyton’s money and bloodline, you’re going to regret this day. Or maybe when one of your precious grandchildren ends up like her.” He thrust out his hand, pointing unerringly at Michelle.
Nick trembled with rage, but Enrica’s firm voice cut through the tension. “That’s enough, Noah. Take your leave before you say something you’ll regret.”
Coleman laughed bitterly. “Yes, you would defend him. Do you think he gives a damn about you, Enrica? He shoved you down our throats as a test run for his spoiled little princess, and all you’ve done so far is show us why women can’t be trusted to handle decisions. Thanks to you, there’s another mutt in New Orleans playing footsie with Jacobson’s kid—”
“Enough!” Hoffman surged to his feet and leaned over the table, both fists braced against the polished wood. “Say one more word, and it had better be a challenge. The Conclave voted. You lost. Walk out the door now.”
Coleman muttered another disgusted curse and stormed past Nick, his shoulder bumping hers roughly. He was twice her size, but she managed to hold her ground.
She was glad she had when the door slammed and she chanced a look at her father. He was shaking, his hands clenched so tightly around the back of a chair that he’d already torn the supple leather. “It wouldn’t be worth it,” she whispered. Not if challenging Coleman put their newly struck deal with the rest of the Conclave at risk.
Ochoa spoke up for the first time, his low, easy drawl faintly reminiscent of Alec’s. “We don’t normally interfere with each other’s family affairs but, since we’re the cause of Noah’s fury, we might take responsibility for the likely targets. I can’t be the only one who’s seen and disapproved of the way he treats his wife and daughter.”
“I’ll call his wife myself,” Enrica said woodenly. “We’ll send guards to fetch her and Veronica, if need be.”
Nick’s father released the chair. “His wife is still recovering in Atlanta, but his daughter’s in town.” His gaze found hers, silently questioning.
She nodded. “Ronnie will call me if things get bad.”
“In that case,” he continued, his voice brooking no argument, “I’ll take my daughters home.”
“Of course,” Hoffman said. “Nicole, we look forward to seeing you again in a few days. If you require anything, you need only call.”
It was an invitation any one of them besides Coleman would have issued in a heartbeat, and it reminded her that, for them, the truly important decision had yet to be made. “Thank you. I appreciate that.”
They’d only made it a few steps down the hallway before a wave of nausea hit Nick. Michelle stumbled, her fingers digging painfully into Nick’s arm. “I think I’m going to be sick.”
“Come on.”
The nearest ladies washroom was an executive suite that had only seen secretaries and the occasional visitor before Enrica had taken her place on the Conclave. Nick stared at a flower on the expensive wallpaper while she held Michelle’s head, smoothing her hair back.
Her sister shuddered, and her hand flew out to clutch the edge of the counter. For one terrifying second magic flared and Nick felt the echo, strong enough to raise the hair on the back of her neck.
The light above them flickered, but Nick didn’t take her eyes off that tiny flower.
“It’s okay. You’re okay.” She’d help Michelle, and then she needed to get back to her room at the penthouse. Her numbness would fade soon, and reality would take its place. She’d have to face the fact that she’d traded away her freedom, and it didn’t matter how many times she reminded herself it was for the best.
She’d still break down.
Chapter 18
Basement cage accommodations were the second most useful feature Alec’s house had to offer for newly made wolves. Far superior was the land that had come with his house, just enough acres of wooded solitude to give them a place to run. The property itself was the only evidence Derek had ever seen of the wealth Alec’s family reportedly possessed, though he supposed it was ample evidence all on its own.
Derek parked his truck next to Alec’s and nodded to the takeout bags sitting next to Andrew. “You got that?”
“Sure.” Andrew climbed out, looking jittery after another long day. He almost dropped one of the sodas, but managed to right it. “Got it, yeah.”
They’d run every night since the day they’d decided to make Penny a full partner. Six times, and the soothing predictability of it got them both through the turbulent week. For Andrew it was a chance to burn off energy that seemed to build with alarming speed, but for Derek it was…
Pack.
He might be lonely, but he didn’t have to be alone.
Alec met them on the front porch and held out a hand. “Give me some of that before you drop it.”
Instead of unloading a bag or a few of the drinks, Andrew lifted his chin in a stubborn gesture. “I can handle it.”
A touchy challenge, and a reminder of how prickly Derek’s own pride had been in the months after his change. Alec dealt with Andrew the same way he’d managed Derek two years ago—rolled eyes and a complete refusal to acknowledge the subtle prod. He jerked his head to the side in an invitation that wasn’t quite a command. “We can eat on the porch.”
Dinner was burgers and fries eaten in silence. Derek had given up on conversation by the third evening, when Alec proved as uninterested in small talk as usual and Andrew seemed determined to give him a run for who could deliver the most monosyllabic replies.
It didn’t matter. No one was there to talk.
The sun dropped behind the trees as they finished their meals. Derek gathered up his trash and tucked it into the takeout bag before rising. “Well?”
Alec nodded and took the bag. “You two change. I’ll be along.”
He may as well have released Andrew from invisible bonds. He tugged at his shirt as he jumped the porch steps and landed on the grass. Derek followed him at a more sedate pace.
The change always brought a rush of adrenaline, an amplification of baser instincts. Around Nick it had translated to sex—a hot, joyful lust that licked at his skin and made him anticipate a chase.
Now it was violence. He had to concentrate on the little things, the buttons on his shirt, the buckle on his belt, the mud-encrusted laces on his boots. It would be easy to let the rising power drive him to force a challenge, a fight that would be too vicious without Alec there to intercede.
Andrew ground his teeth. Derek realized the energy roiling inside him was clear and unmistakable when his friend spoke. “I don’t want to fight. I want to run.”
The knot on his left boot was tangled, covered with dirt and a leaf he’d probably picked up at the last construction site he’d visited. The wolf inside him snarled, and the lace snapped under his fingers. “Don’t worry, I’m sure Alec will kick my ass a few times.”
“Do you need it?” Andrew asked.
“Maybe.” He kicked off his boots and shed his socks. “It’s been a long week.” A frustrating week, full of problems that couldn’t be faced head on. Not surprising the wolf was ready to claw his way free.
“No shit.” Andrew fell silent, and a rough surge of magic ripped through the still night air. Derek rose to his feet and watched as the brownish wolf explored Alec’s backyard, every movement carrying the same leashed tension Andrew evinced as a human.