I should not. I should email Alwynn and Deacon to tell them what has occurred with Augustine tonight. No. I shouldcallthem both, but I have no intention of doing that. There is adonor who is waiting to be turned, and I need to deal with her paperwork, as well as that of the vampire who plans to turn her. Not to mention the issues that have arisen within the donors themselves—nothing too serious, but all things I need to go over, to ensure they are healthy and happy and want to remain—
“Njáll,” Maurice says, and this time, his voice is edged with a warning.
I do not know why I get to my feet and walk over there. I am in charge of the clan, not Maurice, even if we both know his position in the Hunt somehow keeps his standing above mine. When I sink onto the sofa, I sigh all the same, and Maurice shifts so he’s facing me, one arm resting on the sofa’s back.
“What truly has you worried?”
So much. I should not have this job. I am not certain I want it, and even if I do, I know I cannot live up to the legacy Vasile has left behind. I miss having less responsibility and the handful of friendships I have since lost.
I worry that whatever is happening with the fae runs deeper than Maurice is telling me. I worry, too, that Augustine will attack Quinn regardless of what I’ve told him, and I’m not sure if I’m more concerned for him—because I am certain he won’t survive it—or Quinn, who is no responsibility of mine.
I worry that I am a hypocrite and that, no matter what, I cannot rule because I cannot be fair. If I were in Augustine’s position, I never would have approached the crai. I would have gone after the perpetrator myself. Iknowthat, deep in my bones.
“Njáll?” Maurice prompts.
I sigh and roll my head, looking over at him. He stares steadily back, and I wonder at him for a moment. Last night was the first time I saw him truly ruffled. No. Scared. When Reijo attacked me, Maurice was concerned but unflappable, easily able to deal with everything.
Last night… That is why he kissed me back, isn’t it? Because he was scared, too. Because he needed that closeness just like I did.
I need that closeness again. Or somethingsimilar.
“All of it,” I say and tilt my head back so I can look at the ceiling again before I close my eyes. “Everything has me worried, Maurice.”
Chapter Fifteen
Maurice
Idon’tknowwhattosay to that. It is not often I am lost for words; not that I am particularly verbose—well, unless I am compared to Vlad, I suppose—but I do not know how to answer Njáll.
He seems defeated, and yet the problem does not seem as extensive as all that. His loyalty to his vampires is stronger than I care for, but it is endearing, really, that he wants to look out for all of them.
Even some jumped-up little fuck who thinks he can come here and demand revenge.
Augustine is trouble but easily dealt with, and if it comes to it, I will do that myself. My hand was on my knife when he dared to slam his own down on Njáll’s desk—as though he somehow has therightto blame Njáll, who has been fighting for him to achieve the justice he wants.
Although he does not want justice at all. He is all angry darkness, and I can understand that, but he is old enough a vampire to have a sense of perspective.
“I confess, I do not truly understand what happened with the wolves,” I murmur because the silence around us is almost palpable. “I gather Quinn is fragile, but I do not know why they protect him the way they do.”
Njáll sighs heavily but does not open his eyes. “Tamesis was using fae blood,” he says, and my own blood runs cold. “He used it to manipulate the pack bonds. It’s all very… convoluted, but essentially, he took hold of their bonds and made them do certain things.”
“And Quinn? He was important to him?”
“Not at all,” Njáll says. “Not as far as I can tell. But Tamesis was working with other wolves who wanted to hurt Quinn, so he had him kill a vampire… Augustine’s lover, I suppose.”
“How old is he?”
“Augustine?”
“No. Quinn.”
Njáll shrugs. “Late twenties, I think. Kieran is…” He’s clearly trying to work it out, but I’m already shaking my head, though he can’t see.
“He’s so young,” I say, and Njáll finally opens his eyes, blinking at the light. “Even an alpha like Deacon would have trouble fighting that.”
“He did. Tamesis manipulated him the night Vasile first killed him. Tamesis had Deacon attack his own mate.”
I stare at him for a moment too long. Njáll lifts his head to look at me, and he frowns as he studies my face.
