Moira’s shoulders relaxed. Good explanation. “I understand.”
No way would her aunt Viv appreciate her daughter dating Trevan. The guy was five hundred years old, a scholar, not a warrior. He was a genius, but a researcher kept in the back room. One who’d produce excellent results, but lacked social skills—a bit of a wimp.
“Thought you might.” Simone smirked, eyeing Conn like a cat with cream. “The world has been privy to your business for far too long.”
Wasn’t that the freaking truth? Moira plastered on her most sincere smile. While she had no doubt Simone could take care of herself, women in love made mistakes. Even Simone. “This is convenient. We can escort you both to Ireland so the Nine can consolidate and plan.”
“I’ve read your reports with curiosity these last years.” Trevan’s gaze swept her with interest. “The Seventh as an enforcer. You’ve grown up quite nicely, little Moira.”
Conn showed his teeth. “I have no problem beating the crap out of you, Demidov.” Anticipation lit his eyes. “In fact, perhaps I’ve just discovered our solution. We fight, you lose, and I drop your ass in Ireland before heading home.”
Moira hid a smile. What Conn lacked in finesse, he more than made up for in honest threat. A fact Trevan had understood well before goading the vampire.
Interest tipped Trevan’s lips. “I would enjoy the fight, Prince.” He reached an elegant hand out to cover Simone’s, who all but preened in response. “Of course you must promise the king won’t retaliate when I burn the skin from your bones with a mere thought.” Condescension dripped from each word.
Tempting. Moira fought the thought of allowing the men to actually fight, to let Conn to use his new ability with magic to teach the smug witch a lesson. She cleared her throat. “I hardly think this situation needs to descend to a place of violence, gentlemen.” Unless she decided to smack their heads together, of course.
“Oh, I don’t know.” Simone tapped the three-inch heel of her boot on the tile. “I love a good battle between strong men.”
The woman was about to get a good battle between two strong women. Moira drew in air, forcing tension from her body. “We have enough battles going on right now. Our allies should probably keep from turning each other bloody.” When in the hell had she become the voice of reason? The mere thought sent irritation shafting down her spine. She was the one with the bad temper. The whole mate business was taking too much work.
Trevan narrowed his gaze. “You think we’re still allies with the Realm, Moira? From my perspective, withdrawal seems imminent.”
“That would be a bad move.” Conn leaned back, tossing a casual arm around Moira. “If you withdraw, the demons will show up immediately at your door.”
“As allies,” Simone purred.
Conn chuckled, toying with Moira’s curls across her shoulders. “If you truly believe such nonsense, you need serious help. The demons would do anything to harness your power to combine with their mind warfare. Without your consent.”
So true. The demons held a serious edge with mind invasion and fought dirty.
Moira tugged a curl free. “Conn’s right. They wouldn’t work with us; they’d exploit us in a second.”
The demons had remained neutralized for the last four hundred years because of the treaty with the Realm. The moment the agreement disintegrated, the witches would enter a new era of danger. While her people had the ability to control brain waves, or what rolled from the body in order to slightly alter perception, the demons attacked the actual minds of enemies—putting in devastating images and misfiring the neurons.
Simone crossed long legs under her tight skirt. “Your basic assumption is incorrect. We’re more powerful than the demons.” Her eyes glittered a sharp light. “We’d use them.”
Conn shifted his substantial weight. “You think you’re powerful enough to fight the Realm and the demons, Simone ?”
“Yes.” Conviction sharpened her gaze.
Moira flashed back to another family picnic where they’d competed in an archery contest. Simone’s focus had been absolute. She’d won, even over Daire and Kell.
Trevan leaned forward, his hand still on Simone’s. “Of course, we haven’t withdrawn from the Realm. So this discussion is premature. Maybe we should centralize our location and go to Ireland, considering the threats we’re dealing with.”
Conn nodded. “Good thinking. Speaking of threats, you wouldn’t know anything about this odd abyss yanking witches out of their lives, now do you?”
“Of course not,” Trevan said. “I assure you, if there’s magic involved, we’ll solve the problem.”
Conn’s smile lacked civility. “Until the mystery is solved, watch out for swirling holes trying to eat you, Demidov. I’d hate for you to disappear.”
“Right back at you, Prince.”
The doorbell rang. Simone frowned. “So much for enjoying my solitude. If a human is selling something, I’m turning him into an ass.” With a swish of her skirt, she stood and nearly stomped across the tile.
Conn slowly turned his head toward the door, a frown deepening between his eyes.
The hair on the back of Moira’s neck rose.
Simone opened the door. A gasp escaped her. She stumbled back, the color deserting her face.
In a rush of power, Conn leaped over the back of the couch, planting himself between Simone and ... a demon?
Even in the waning light, the nearly white blond of his hair shone. As tall as Conn, nearly as broad, the demon kept his hands in his pockets, his stance relaxed. Gray eyes peered past Conn. “Simone. Good to see you again.” Rough and gravelly, his voice was a sign of the distressed vocal cords of a full-breed demon.
Moira jumped to her feet. Conn held up a hand to stop her. “Stay there.”
She didn’t see any weapons. But a demon didn’t need weapons. She opened her senses. Nothing. Whoever he was, he wasn’t trying to mess with their heads. At least not right at that moment.
Simone straightened to her nearly six feet of height. Fire flashed bright and explosive in her eyes. “What the hell do you want?”
The demon’s smile held a hard edge. “It’s nice to see you too, Zaychik moy.”
Moira gaped at her cousin. My bunny? The Russian endearment spoke of a history. “Who’s your friend?”
He smiled perfect white teeth. “Nikolaj Veis. Nick, if you wish.”
“How modern of you,” Simone muttered. “I believe I asked you a question.”
“I wanted to talk,” Nick said, frowning at Conn. “Though I hadn’t realized you’d acquired a ... vampire.”
“Yeah, we’re at war now, aren’t we?” Conn’s fangs dropped low.
“Indeed we are.” Anticipation lit the demon’s face. “About time, too. Peace was getting so boring.”
“I couldn’t agree more.” Conn stepped into the demon’s space. The air crackled with a tension-filled energy.
Simone cleared her throat. “What did you want to discuss ?”
Nick sighed. “I’m not talking in front of a vampire.”
Trevan rose gracefully to his feet, sidling to Simone to grasp her arm. “We are not meeting with a demon alone. This is full council business.”
Simone scowled. “We’re on the council, Trevan. At least hear what he has to say.”
Moira shook her head. “Simone, this is a bad idea. We’re not leaving you alone with a demon.” As an enforcer, her vow dictated she remain in place. There was no way Conn would excuse himself, either.
Simone focused on Nick. “You’ll give your word not to attack? That you’re here just to talk?”
“Of course.” Nick gave a slight bow. “You have my word.”
“He’ll honor his word.” Simone glanced at Moira, her face still pale. “Your mate needs to leave.”