She sighed. “We need to talk.”
“Why do those words always sound so ominous?” he murmured. But he was more relaxed now, more himself. “You want to discuss the venue for the wedding?”
Their wedding had been so far from her thinking the last twenty-four hours that his question took her aback. She shook her head. “This is about the case. The cases.”
He squeezed her waist and let go. “All right. Would you like some wine to go with our words? I had a pleasant Syrah with dinner. There’s some of that left, or I could open the Riesling the wine steward recommended.”
“Some Riesling would be good.” As he moved to the room service cart she took off her jacket, draped it over the back of a chair, and began unfastening her shoulder harness. “Why Leidolf?”
“Hmm?” He inserted the corkscrew and began twisting.
“I wondered why you brought an all-Leidolf squad with us.”
“Oh.” With a soft sound like a sigh the cork came out. He reached for a wineglass. “Call it a gut impulse, but my head agreed.”
She set her shoulder harness on the table and toed off first one shoe, then the other. It felt good to wiggle her toes, dig them into the plush carpet. “What did your head say?”
“That it’s hard on my Leidolf guards at Nokolai Clanhome. They’re surrounded by Nokolai and constantly see me in my role as the other clan’s Lu Nuncio. They need time with me as their Rho.”
He wasn’t making any effort to lower his voice, which meant any guards in the other bedroom who were awake could hear him easily. Which meant he was okay with that. Maybe he wanted them to. Lily picked up her jacket, shoulder harness, and shoes and carried them into the bedroom that was hers and Rule’s. “It’s kind of weird to hear you call Nokolai the other clan. I know what you meant, but…do you think you’ll become more Leidolf than Nokolai?”
Glass clinked. “The balance has shifted, but I’ve been Nokolai all my life. I won’t lose that. It’s too much a part of me.”
She set her shoulder harness on the bedside table where she could get it in a hurry, if needed. Shoes and jacket went in the closet. “And your gut said?”
He came into the bedroom carrying two glasses. “I wanted Leidolf around me. I wanted them to feel the change. They may not consciously notice, but they’ll feel it. Leidolf is truly mine now.”
“That’s a very dominant way of seeing it.”
His grin flashed. He held out one brimming glass. “I’m a dominant kind of a guy.”
In the lupi sense of the word, she reminded herself as she accepted the wine. He knew he was in charge—but of the clan, not her. Which was sort of the problem, considering what she needed to tell him. Lily took a sip of wine. “Hey. That’s really good.” Good enough to burst through her preoccupation and make her notice. “It tastes kind of like the sky looks up high in the mountains. You know—really saturated, but crisp.”
He took a sip, too, his eyes steady on hers. “I agree. I’ll have to tell the wine steward we approve. What is it you wanted to talk about that you can’t bring yourself to talk about?”
He was too damn perceptive at times. She sighed. “Before we left Clanhome, Cynna asked me to promise I’d let her know if we needed her. You said Cullen can’t make his Find spell work. We have two people missing that we’re pretty sure are hostages. We need Cynna.”
“No.”
He said that coolly and with complete assurance. It was exactly the reaction she’d expected. In his mind this was a clan matter—Nokolai clan, not Leidolf this time, but either way, his territory. “You don’t get to make that decision.”
“Lily, stop and think,” he said impatiently. “Bringing Cynna here could be the reason for all of this. Why is Friar kidnapping people? That’s what you keep asking, isn’t it? Maybe because he wants the best Finder in the country to show up and try to find them. Stealing the prototype might get her here, but if not, grab some people, too, because that’s exactly the sort of thing we’d need her for. Exactly the sort of thing she’d want to come here for. Cynna has no apprentice. If she were killed, the clan’s memories would be lost.” He shook his head. “It’s unthinkable.”
“And it’s still not your decision. Look.” She set her wine down on the bureau and went to him. “You lupi have been around for over three thousand years. In all that time, has a Rhej ever died before she could pass on the memories?”
His eyebrows went up. “It hasn’t happened, therefore it won’t? You usually argue better than that.”
She laid her hands on his chest, wanting the contact. “It hasn’t happened, and maybe there’s a reason. You protect your Rhejes in every way possible, and that’s got to be part of it. What if the Lady protects them, too? By warning them, maybe, in certain special circumstances. Like if a Rhej who hasn’t passed on the memories is about to do something that’s apt to get her killed.”
He was silent for a moment. “I’ve never heard of such a thing.”
“I’m pretty sure the Rhejes know a lot of stuff they don’t talk about.”
“The Lady doesn’t speak to her Rhejes often. I know that much.”
“Speech isn’t the only way she communicates with them, though. Hannah talked about having dreams or feelings about stuff. And the Lady is a patterner. Like Friar, only with aeons more experience and knowledge. She’d be able to read patterns really well. She’d have a good sense of when one of her Rhejes needs to stay home.”
He didn’t say anything. She felt the tension thrumming through him.
“When Cynna asked me to promise I’d call if we needed her, she said she might not be able to come. She wanted me to call, but she couldn’t say if she would come or not. I didn’t think much about it then, but later I got to wondering…was she just keeping her options open? Or did she think she’d get some kind of mystical thumbs-down if coming here was a bad idea? Either way,” she finished gently, “Cynna gets to decide. Not you or me.”
His breath gusted out. One corner of his mouth turned up. “Nice of you to include yourself in the we-don’t-get-to-decide-for-her ultimatum.”
“Yeah, well, I was tempted to find a loophole in my promise. Don’t think I wasn’t.”
“You’re going to call her.”
“I am. But not right this second.” She drifted her hands up to his shoulders. “I’m all talked out at the moment. You?”
He lowered his hands to cup her hips. Then he just looked at her, his gaze intent, as if he needed to find something in her eyes. Uncertainty pinched at her. “What? What is it?”
He smiled slightly and shook his head. “Nothing. Or nothing important, and I find I, too, am not in the mood to talk.” He bent his head and nibbled at her lips. “Especially not of unimportant things.”
She leaned into the kiss. He reciprocated for a moment, then pulled back, tending to the side of her neck instead of her mouth. Delicious little thrills raced over her skin, a goose-bumpy delight that made her smile as she reached for the buttons he’d just refastened on his shirt.
He smiled at her with lazy, hooded eyes and covered her hand with his. “Not yet,” he whispered, and turned her hand up and kissed her palm.
He wanted slow. He wanted lingering and teasing, and she was not in a patient mood. As with so much in a relationship, compromise was key.
She compromised by cupping his balls. And squeezing exactly the way he liked.
He gasped. When he smiled this time his eyes were still hooded, but not lazy. Not at all. “So that’s how it is, is it?” And he launched his counterattack.