you will tell me about it. Immediately. You can consider yourselves emissaries of the wolves from here on out.”
Fiona shook her head. “With all due respect—”
“Anyone who uses that phrase is generally going to be quite disrespectful, I’ve found,” Evan said.
“I don’t intend to be. I simply want to say that we all want the same thing—the Siren off the market. It’s an Atlantean gem and belongs to them. We’re going to find it and restore it to its original place of honor. A strictly ceremonial thing, of course. Since there are no shifters in Atlantis to be enthralled, you have nothing to worry about.” Fiona smiled and nodded as if everything were now solved.
“Princess, life isn’t like one of your books. You can’t tie everything up neatly with a bow all the time,” Christophe said, casting a resigned look at Lucinda. “Now we’re in trouble?”
“Now you’re in trouble.”
The first wave of shifters came at them hard, fast, and low. Christophe barely had time to pull his daggers again before they were on him, but they ignored him and went for Fiona first. There were far too many, and they were far too fast.
Christophe shot out of his chair so fast it flew through the air and smashed into the wall behind him, but Evan dove for his legs and knocked him flat against the table so hard Christophe’s head bounced off the wood. The two shifters in the front wave of the mob coming after Fiona grabbed her and yanked her away before Christophe could reach for her. He roared out his fury and denial, and the sound took shape into a glowing ball of forbidden fire, the flames as scarlet as Fiona’s costume.
Flames licked the edge of the table and Christophe took advantage of the distraction to slam his elbow back into Evan’s face. The shifter howled as the force of the blow caught him in the nose and mouth and flung him back and off Christophe.
Lucinda jumped up, the predatory grin on her face fading into a scowl at her mate’s pain.
“Release her, or I’ll burn this whole damn place and everyone in it to the ground,” Christophe snarled, standing his ground. The shifters who held Fiona could kill her before he could reach her, which neutralized any potential move.
“I don’t think so, sorcerer,” Lucinda said, pointing to Fiona. “If you so much as blink, they will rip her throat out. Now make your pretty fire go away.”
Christophe analyzed every option available to him in the space of a single breath, but the damn alpha spoke the truth. She had the upper hand, for now. He extinguished the fireball.
“Now you’re in a
Chapter 30
Fiona had the craziest urge to give in to the giggles. The entire situation had a distinct evil villain vibe to it, and she half expected Bond, James Bond, to show up any minute and get Lucinda to launch into a monologue about her plans to take over the world. Didn’t look like that was going to happen, though. Instead, Fiona drew a deep breath and analyzed the situation.
Chance of escape? None.
Chance of winning a battle, against these odds? None. Or at least none before she’d be dead and bleeding out on the floor. Christophe might be able to fight them or escape, or both.
Chance of negotiating? Better than average.
“Lucinda—”
Somebody smacked the back of her head, hard.
“Speak to our alpha with respect, human. You’re not fit to say her name.” The words came out in an animalistic growl, but she had no problem understanding either their meaning or their menace.
“I do apologize, but that is how she introduced herself to me. Is there a form of address you’d prefer I use?” She smiled calmly, as if this were any cocktail conversation in any drawing room in the country.
“You’ve declined my very reasonable request,” Lucinda said, stalking her way across the room. “I don’t care what you call me, you’re in trouble.”
Christophe roared out a warning, and Evan, his nose crooked and bleeding, smashed a chair into the back of Christophe’s head. Christophe went down hard but was back up in a few seconds.
“If you touch her, I will kill you all,” Christophe said, his voice carrying throughout the room. His eyes burned like deep green pools of molten emerald and flashed a warning or a signal to Fiona. She had no idea what he was trying to convey, not that there was much she could do about it anyway. She was surrounded by drunken, angry, excited, and possibly hungry shifters. That last adjective alone accounted for the shiver of terror trailing its cold fingers down her spine.
“You should watch your mouth, warrior,” Lucinda replied. “She will be dead before you can make your first move.”
Fiona could tell by the way Christophe clenched his fists that he knew as well as she did that it was the truth.
“Please let them entertain us, my mistress,” one of the shifters called out to his alpha. “If we are not amused, they can be food.”
“I can be very entertaining,” Fiona said quickly.
A few of the shifters laughed, and she smiled at them. Diplomacy never hurt, though she didn’t think they’d go as far as disobeying their alpha. Lucinda was the key.
“You offer, then?” Lucinda smiled. Her mouth surely hadn’t had so many teeth in it before.
“No,” Christophe shouted. “She doesn’t understand. Take me.”
“Too late, Atlantean. Offered and accepted,” the alpha replied, never taking her eyes off Fiona. “Well, little human, which will it be? Fight or fuck?”
Fiona gasped. “I beg your pardon?”
“Little too late for that. Now you entertain my people. If they decide you’ve done a good enough job of it, we let you go. Do you choose to fight or fuck? Either will suffice. Pain or pleasure?”
“I don’t—I—who would I have to fight?” Delay. Keep Lucinda talking. Fiona’s heart was about to beat out of her chest, and she was sure the shifters surrounding her could hear it, since they were crowding closer and closer, some snuffling at her like . . . animals.
Evan shouted out a laugh. His nose seemed to be healing already. “Guess you’re not satisfying her, Atlantean, if she’d choose to fight a wolf shifter rather than fuck you for our viewing pleasure.”
“I’ll only be satisfied when I have a wolf-skin rug in front of my fire,” Christophe said, scorn dripping from his voice. “Why don’t you fight me, if your Pack wants some real entertainment? Or is the little puppy afraid to come out from behind Mommy?”
Evan launched himself at Christophe again, but Lucinda made a hand gesture and several of the shifters grabbed him and held him back.
“Evan,” Lucinda said patiently. “He’s trying to provoke you into fighting him so the debt is paid and we can no longer accept his mate’s offer. Try to think with your brain instead of your . . . man parts.”
She had the effrontery to wink at Fiona, as though they were just gals in on a lovely joke. Fiona suddenly, fiercely, wanted to smash the smile off the woman’s face. Naturally, it would be her last act on the earth, since shifters were far stronger than humans, but perhaps the wave of personal satisfaction would be worth it.
“I have another idea,” she said instead. “A counteroffer, if you will. I will entertain you in my own way, with a story. The tale of what happened when your own moon goddess came to Scotland and fell in love with a Highlander.”
Lucinda tilted her head. “And if I accept and we are not entertained by your story?”
“Then I surrender gracefully and buy drinks for everyone in the pub, which, you must admit, would also be entertaining.” Fiona kept her head raised high but didn’t stare directly into Lucinda’s eyes. She’d read somewhere about displays of dominance in the shifter world, and she didn’t want to appear to be challenging Lucinda’s authority
