Shattered Circle

decision without knowing.” My hands rested on my hips.

He glanced at the ceiling and conveyed thoughtfulness for about half a second. “If I am to proceed according to the design you arrived with, you must allow me to satisfy myself with you in three ways. If I am to aid you in ridding yourself of doubts and avoiding those you love coming to harm as leverage used against you, then you must allow me to satisfy myself with you two different ways.”

I scowled. “Satisfy yourself? Geez. Can you make it sound any more smarmy?”

“If that’s a request, yes I can.”

“Forget I said it.” I waved him off. Amenemhab had suggested that I explore his demands, not only to pin him down as to what he meant precisely, but to see if there was information there that I could use to get him to make concessions. “But what do you mean by ‘two’ and ‘three different ways’? Elaborate.” I was hoping he meant positions and not that many orifices—then I scolded myself for even hoping he meant positions. This bargain should not be happening at all.

His lips curved. “You want to know how I like to satisfy myself with a woman?” He reached up and rubbed his thumb across my lips. “Remember this?”

They felt slightly swollen, definitely still sore. “That’s all it takes to satisfy you? A rough kiss?”

“That was a taste of what I like.” He moved in closer.

I crossed my arms defensively.

Ignoring my move, he wrapped his arms around me and whispered into my ear. “I want you naked before me. I want to touch you, to fondle and caress you. I want to grope you until I’ve found all the spots that make you tremble with desire. I want to bring you to the edge of orgasm. I want to hear you beg me not to stop. But I will.”

Maybe I liked his looks, but he’d done things that made me wary of him even before he’d brought me here, gone all weird and gotten physically rough with me. “Listen up,” I said forcefully, “I do not want to have sex with you.”

“I know this.” He spun away. “I know you have a skewed image of me in your mind.”

He’d gone from aggressive sexual predator to sneeringly rejected date in the blink of an eye. I arched a brow guardedly. “Skewed?”

“Your perception of me was influenced by others.” He clasped his hands behind his back. “You will not give me fair consideration so long as you are being swayed by the words of a jealous would-be lover.”

Why did he even care about my fair consideration of him? He didn’t think . . . oh hell. I blinked repeatedly.

“Menessos must have said things about me. Why else would you be so resistant and mistrustful when I am only offering you what you want as you want it, and giving you the option of improving upon that idea?”

“It’s not your offers I have issues with, it’s your secretiveness about your method on option two and your price for each that are problematic.”

He turned back. “You are circumspect only because of his lack of trust—”

“No, I assure you, I’m rather prudent in all my decisions.”

Ignoring my response, he continued. “—and his actions are rooted in jealousy . . . you are beautiful, Persephone.” He cupped my cheek adoringly. “He has every right to try to keep you to himself. But he does not have the right to manipulate you so.”

My first impulse was to defend Menessos. The second impulse was to put the blame where it should be and remind him that he’d broken Ivanka’s arm, poisoned my dragon, and that I had dubbed him Creepy for a reason. But the jackal had warned me that those kinds of actions would only weaken my position. Pointing out his crimes would not inspire him to lower his price. It would only fortify his excuse to dig in and negotiate less.

I had to be cooperative and warm, Amenemhab had said, to find a common ground.

I looked at the man who wouldn’t let me leave this meditation until we’d struck up some kind of bargain with sex as his payment, and knew my expression was full of frustrated disdain.

“Cooperative and warm” was not going to be easy.

CHAPTER THIRTY-THREE

The force that hit Johnny was an inferior one, but the blow connected precisely on his knee. He could not keep from falling. As he pitched to the side, something large rolled past him.

Johnny roared and scrabbled onto his inhuman feet, but the large object made the transition much more smoothly.

Brian.

The Omori pulled two pistols from his belt even as he gained his feet. Both pointed at the vampire, who lay unmoving. Then Brian lowered himself to one knee. “Sire. Sire, please. Stand down.”

The beast flicked its claws. Rage boiled in his chest.

But Johnny heard.

Seconds ticked by as he struggled with the duality of his desires. Save Red. Taste enemy blood. His heart was all for the woman; but his head was filled with fury and his jaws dripped thick saliva. The moment wore painfully on, tension roiling around him like tangible ribbons of hate—then the man surfaced from someplace deep in the waters of his mind and, gasping, fought for control.

One rear paw slid backward. His weight shifted. He brought the other paw in line with this one. Turning his head to maintain his watch on the vampire, he crouched low. Commanding his beast to retreat, he concentrated and held his mental ground as he forced the feral creature inside him to succumb, to shrink and submit.

When the wolf began relenting, his man-form was regained.

His skin felt hot as the cold air of the house swirled around him. Staying down, balanced on his toes, one knee, and the tips of his fingers, Johnny shivered. From head to toe he shook, adrenaline and aggression coursing like whitewater rapids through his veins. He focused on the vampire, but that receding part of him wished the damned thing would twitch once so he could pounce and finish it off. The man knew it was wrong, but the wolf wanted it all the same. If the vamp provoked him, he would be justified. And it would burn up this excess energy.

“Sire.”

Johnny’s head snapped toward the Omori and a growl slipped out unchecked.

The young man’s blue eyes were set, his expression serious. “Sire. Forgive my interference, but you must not kill that vampire.”

The Omori had put specific emphasis on the word. “Why not?”

“I’m sure you’ve had some security briefings, sire, but perhaps you don’t recognize him. That vamp is one of a dozen or so high-ranking officials included in our OPS training. He’s important. Important enough to be on a do- not-kill list.”

Aurelia had pestered him about security briefings; he had not made time for them yet. “Who is he?”

“His name is Franciscus Meroveus. He is an advisor to the Excelsior. Killing him would cause friction between w?res and vamps. Hostilities would follow—off the record, underground, and out of the public eye if we were lucky, but it would be ugly nonetheless.”

Johnny glowered. He was still breathing hard, but he’d brought it down to rushing breaths through flared nostrils. Control was returning. Gradually. “He did something to Red.”

Brian readjusted his grip on the guns, shifted his position, and changed the angle of his aim. The guns looked heavy and fully loaded; even a w?rewolf had to amend his pose to avoid muscle fatigue. “Do you want to instigate a war . . . over a woman?”

Johnny fought down a snarl.

“I am at your command, sire.” Brian paused. When Johnny didn’t answer he added, “If you want a war, this will give you one.”

Johnny rolled his shoulders to fight off the strain he felt. His body hurt; his arms, his sides.

“Give the word. One way or the other. I trust you to know what you’re doing and the ramifications you’re bringing on our people.” His fingers tightened on the triggers.