the mate stepped down.”
“The wolf clan is not ready to voice an opinion,” Daniel’s even voice said.
“Now is the time for leadership,” the unfamiliar male jumped in. “She must be removed to make room for a new alpha.”
“And who would that be, Sontag?” Aunt B inquired. “Would that be you?”
We reached the door.
“If you challenge someone, we can’t interfere,” Barabas murmured. “Remember, don’t provoke them.”
I kicked the door open and walked in. Fourteen pairs of eyes glared at me from around the table. Beyond the alpha, fourteen other shapeshifters waited—the betas of each clan, invited as a courtesy.
I looked from face to face.
“What the fuck do you think you’re doing?” the male voice said.
Third man on the left. Tall, wiry. Sontag.
I looked at him. “Ready to put your claws where your mouth is, or are you going to cringe behind the big boys and yip all day?”
His eyes flared with yellow. “Is that a challenge?”
“Yes, it is.”
He burst from the chair, turning furry in midflight. I sidestepped and slashed with my knife across his neck. Blood spurted from the severed carotid like a jet from a water pistol, spraying the table. He swiped at me. I kicked him in the knee. Bone crunched. He went down. I grabbed his hair, cut hard across his neck, and kicked his head. His neck crunched, and Sontag’s skull rolled across the table.
His mate lunged at me. I stabbed her in the heart. She clamped her teeth on my right arm and I jabbed my fingers into her eye sockets. She howled. I jerked the knife out and stabbed her until she stopped moving.
The whole thing took about half a minute. Eternity in a fight.
I turned to the Council. Their eyes glowed. Their nostrils flared at the scent of blood. They said nothing.
An older couple rose from among the betas and walked over to the table. The woman kicked the dead body of the female alpha out of the way and the two of them sat down in bloodstained chairs.
“Clan Jackal has no objection to the mate’s presence in the Beast Lord’s quarters,” the new alpha of the Jackals said.
An older Japanese couple at the far end stirred. “Clan Nimble has no objection to the mate,” the man said.
“We remember Myong,” his mate said in a heavily accented voice. “We do not forget.”
I surveyed the rest of the Council and looked directly at Mahon. “Some of you know me. Some of you have seen me fight and some of you are my friends. Have your vote. But know this: if you come to remove me, come in force, because if you try to separate me from him, I will kill every single one of you. My hand won’t shake. My aim won’t falter. My face will be the last thing you’ll see before you die.”
I jammed the knife into the table and walked out.
I got to the stairs before my vision swam and my legs turned to rubber.
A firm hand gripped my elbow. Jezebel hefted me upright, bearing all of my weight, and we kept walking.
“Way to play it cool there,” Barabas ground through his teeth. “Every idiot who wants to make a name for himself will be gunning for you now. Jezebel, let go of her. She will be seen. She must walk.”
“She’s bleeding. She’ll fall.”
“It’s better that she falls. She has to walk on her own.”
“I’ve got it,” I growled and made myself walk up the stairs. Every step jabbed a knife into my knee. Fucking stairs. When he woke up, I’d make him install a damn elevator.
“Only four flights to go,” Jezebel told me. “Is Doolittle behind us?”
Barabas glanced back. “Yes.”
“Good.”
A year later Derek shut the door behind us and I collapsed on the carpet in the hallway. Moments later Doolittle stepped through the door. “Pick her up, quickly, quickly.”
Jezebel swiped me off the floor and jogged with me to Curran’s rooms. “What’s wrong with her?”
“Her knee cap was shattered and the tendons in her left arm are torn. It took hours to get her walking properly. And she reopened her wounds. Foolish, Kate. You’re a God-damned fool, that’s what you are.”
By the time they got me to the room, the adrenaline had worn off and I was screaming. As Doolittle jabbed the needle in my arm, emptying a syringe full of painkillers into my vein, I saw Julie’s face. “It’s taken care of,” I told her. “I got it done. Did he wake up?”
She just stared at me.
“Did he wake up?”
“No.”
I closed my eyes and let the medicine take me under.
THE COUNCIL DECIDED IN MY FAVOR. THE WOLVES and Clan Heavy abstained; the rats voted against me; the cats, boudas, Clan Nimble, and Clan Jackal voted for me.
Three days later Mahon came to see me. I was being bandaged at the time—the shapeshifters had declared open season. This was the fifth attack since I’d killed the alpha jackals. I was still winning but barely.
I’d kept Mahon waiting for about five minutes. When I finally walked out of our rooms, Mahon looked as if a storm had ridden in on his thick dark eyebrows. Derek was impassive and my two boudas obviously were wordlessly conspiring to murder Mahon if he took a step out of line.
“I want to see him,” Mahon said.
I stepped aside.
“You as well. I have some things I wish to say to both of you.”
I led him inside.
He stared at Curran. I looked, too. I kept thinking he’d wake up any minute, and I watched for the tiniest hint of movement, until I started seeing things that weren’t there.
“You aren’t fit,” Mahon said. “You aren’t a shapeshifter. You don’t understand us and you probably never will. This”—he spread his massive arms, indicating the bedroom, me, and Curran—“was against my better judgment. I told him so before. He has had many women. I thought it would pass.”
I watched him. If he attacked me here, I’d lose. I couldn’t take Mahon at my best, and right this minute it was a fight to remain standing.
“As I said, this is unwise. But he chose you. I respect the man he has become and I respect what he has done for us. And I respect you for standing by him.” Mahon met my gaze. “You may never be my alpha. You will have to live with that. But he will always be my liege.”
I felt like some pretender to the throne in a medieval drama.
Mahon leaned over Curran and touched his shoulder. “Sleep well. I won’t challenge her and neither will my people.
We will talk more when you wake.”
He walked out.
I WALKED INTO THE ROOM, CARRYING A CUP OF tea and leaning on my cane. Derek rose from the chair, nodded at me, and left without a word. I sat on the edge of the couch and sipped my tea.
Curran lay immobile, an IV dangling from his arm. He’d lost weight. Thirty pounds, at least. His skin was pale. It hurt to look at him.
I forced dread aside. “I didn’t have to kill anybody today. Remember, the first couple of days they were coming three a day, then two, then one. Today nobody challenged me. It’s late now, so if somebody does show up, your castle guard will tell them to come back in the morning. Maybe it’s slacking off.”
I pulled my boots off, wincing at the stab of pain. “Julie has appropriated your bimbo room. I made them throw away the sheets—who knows what sort of crazy crap is on there—and she has a new set. Black. She painted the walls black. The curtains are black lace. I tried to convince her to keep the furniture white, but I saw her carry a paint can in there, so I think it will be black by morning. It’s like a freaking dungeon in there.”
