The rain began to pepper harder. She grabbed his hand, tugging him down the street. “Let’s run.”
As he wrapped his hand around hers, something shifted inside him. He loosened his hold, careful not to bruise. No hint flowed from her of the possibility she was an enhanced female, a possible mate. No whisper of psychic ability. Yet, as she tangled her small fingers more securely with his, he angled his body to protect her from the rain. He’d follow her anywhere.
Chapter 11
Simone Brightston’s New York penthouse screamed sensuality in tones of deep red and purple—much like Moira’s, but without the touches of whimsy. Soft light filtered around the apartment, and twinkling lights from the city below filled the sweeping windows. Nighttime had fallen and Moira’s senses whispered the moon would be full. She shifted on the velvet couch, hiding a wince at newly discovered intimate muscles.
The council should’ve sent all three enforcers to retrieve Simone from New York. But no, Moira was facing her cranky cousin all on her own. “What do you mean you’re not sure you should leave?”
A delicate shrug lifted Simone’s bare shoulder. Her wide sweater slid down both arms. “I have a winter holiday planned. I can still be reached via the net, however.”
Moira kept her focus on Simone, ignoring the heat pouring off the vampire sitting next to her. “The Nine has requested your presence at headquarters, and I’ve been ordered to escort you.”
Simone arched a dark eyebrow, pushing thick black hair back. “I’m part of the Nine.”
“I understand your job, cousin.” What in the hell was going on? The painting behind the couch caught Moira’s eye; an early watercolor from Brenna—painted during her teenage years.
Simone followed her gaze, a pretty flush scattering across her face. “I like the colors.”
The soft palette contrasted with the rich tones of the rest of the room. Not Simone’s taste, but the work held a place of honor.
Interesting.
Running water echoed in the distance and Moira sighed. “You have company?”
“Yes.” Not by a tick did Simone’s smooth face change. The blush receded. “I’m not vacationing alone.”
“Your mother—”
“Irrelevant.” Simone’s black eyes flashed. “As part of the Nine, I make my own decisions, Moira. A fact you’d understand better if you accepted the invitation to join.”
Moira lifted her chin. She doubted Simone would appreciate sitting next to her behind the wide stone bench. “Unlike you, I’m not convinced the missing members are dead. Unless I issue a challenge, there isn’t an opening.”
“I always thought you’d challenge me.” Simone shifted her gaze toward the hallway when the water cut off, returning her focus to Moira with a slight tilt of her head. The words sat as a statement, but the tiniest hint of question hung heavy in the room.
“No.” Moira hoped the current beau remained unaware of their world. That’s all she needed, more people learning the witches had problems. She hoped the man was a human, one on his way out the door. “We’re family, Simone.”
“So?”
A fluffy stuffed elephant sat on a cushion by the fireplace—old, yet in excellent condition—a prize they’d won together in a three-legged race during a family festival, decades ago. They’d drawn names, and had done surprisingly well together.
“So, I’m starting to think family holds more meaning than you’ve let on.” Moira wondered how well she knew her cousin.
“I don’t understand what you mean.” Simone brushed raven dark hair away from her face, her eyes veiled.
Enough of this crap. “I thought you didn’t like me.” A sad fact Moira had come to terms with years ago, it was one she might reconsider. Simone had always been critical, and downright snotty sometimes. But in New York, she had surrounded herself with reminders of family.
“I’m not sure why. Even so, I wouldn’t challenge you for a seat.” Moira stared at her cousin. Once challenged, the member could conceded the position or fight for it. Unfortunately, a fight meant one of them would lose all ability to control the elements—to practice magic.
Conn shifted in his seat to look at Moira. “Since your laws are so damn secret, I don’t comprehend the protocol here. Do we make her go?”
Simone’s smile flashed white teeth in pure warning. “Careful, Kayrs. I might turn you into a chipmunk.”
Moira bit her lip against a smile. “This is unprecedented. When the head of the council requests someone’s presence, they go. Especially if that head is someone’s mother.” She emphasized the last word with a glare at Simone.
Simone rolled her eyes. “So you’re going to tell my mother on me?”
“I’m sure Aunt Viv will notice you’re not in Ireland, dumbass.”
“You know”—Simone crossed long legs under a filmy black skirt—“that temper of yours might keep you from being an effective member of the Nine.”
“Yeah, because us witches are so famous for being coolheaded,” Moira retorted.
Conn snorted. “Right. Okay, so we’re off, then?”
“No, Conn. We’re not off.” Moira had a job to do, though she couldn’t force a member of the Nine to do something they didn’t want to do. The heavy scent of patchouli oil choked the air, making her twitchy.
Simone focused on Conn. “How’s your brother?” She had dated the king eons ago. Things had not worked out, and the relationship had ended badly.
“Ah, fine.” Conn cut his eyes toward Moira.
She shrugged. Let him deal with that quagmire.
“Good to know.” Simone’s jaw hardened.
Moira scrambled for a kind thought. “It’s nice you’ve remained friends with Dage, Simone.”
They hadn’t remained friends. The king had recently taken a mate he appeared to adore.
“Right.” Simone’s crimson painted lip curled in almost a smile. Light footsteps echoed on the marble tile in the hallway, and she turned toward the sound.
Only long-learned practice kept Moira’s jaw from dropping at the man who entered the living room. “Trevan.” A member of the Nine for the last five hundred years. “Kellach is looking for you in Greece, as we speak.”
“Maybe he should have called first.” Trevan smiled, even teeth in an aristocratic face. His dark silk shirt and pants emphasized a long and lean body. His tapered fingers brushed down Simone’s hair as he strolled by to take the overstuffed chair next to hers. The scent of expensive cologne permeated the room in layers of lime and ancient wood. “I assume Viv issued the order after communications cut off?”
A blush of pleasure exploded across Simone’s high cheekbones from his caress.
“Yes.” Moira fought the urge to squirm. Unease tickled her nape, and the vampire stiffening to attention next to her didn’t help.
Trevan steepled his fingers under his chin, his onyx ring flashing in the dim light. “I do wonder about such faulty equipment. In this day and age.”
Moira frowned. Surely he wasn’t suggesting the members in Ireland left him out on purpose.
Conn cleared his throat. “I find your presence here interesting, Demidov”—although congenial, a thread of warning edged his tone—“considering you failed to mention your location to the Nine during the conference call yesterday.”
Trevan’s smile didn’t reach his dark eyes. “They didn’t ask, now did they?”
Moira stilled. Conn was right. Trevan hadn’t mentioned his location during the meeting. More important was why the council members hadn’t zeroed in on his status. Or had they?
Simone plucked an invisible thread off a jeweled pillow. “I thought it prudent to keep my life private, Conn.”