“Spill it.” His older brother, Silas, wasn’t exactly chatty these days. If he had something to talk to Jason about, it was most certainly bad news.
“He put the word out about Alex and Nickelova to Soleil and the other celestial fae at Maison des Étoilles.”
Maison des Étoilles or Mansion of the Stars was a bordello owned and run by celestial fae—supernatural beings that drew their powers from heavenly bodies. The madam, Soleil, was an ex-girlfriend of Silas’s. True to her name, Soleil’s anchor of power was the sun, a boon for Silas as her presence could delay his need to shift. They’d broken up recently, but the two had remained friends, which was helpful to Jason’s detective brother because the bordello tended to serve the underbelly of the city. The girls knew things, and lucky for Silas, were willing to talk.
“That’s old news, sister. He asked her for help months ago. Last I heard, there’d been no sign of Nickelova or of Alex since you ripped through his abdomen,” Jason said.
“There wasn’t. Until now.”
“What’s happened?” He pushed his laptop away to make room for his elbows, using one hand to massage the base of his aching skull. He’d had enough of the anxiety roller coaster but there was no getting off of this ride, not until Alex and Nickelova were dead.
“Someone broke into the vault at Bojingles Fae Hospital and stole fire lily juice. There was nothing on any of the internal security recordings, but when the invisible thief was leaving the hospital, a device outside the entrance caught her moonlit reflection in the glass door to the building. A specialist on Silas’s team blew it up and refined the image. It was Nickelova.”
“Fire lily juice?” The juice of the fire lily could only be collected and administered by the fae, but it could cure a wide range of injuries and illnesses in supernatural beings. “She’s still trying to heal Alex.”
“That’s what Silas thinks too,” Laina said. “I nearly bit Alex’s abdomen in two. He was bleeding out. I have no idea how she’s kept him alive so long, but what else would she be doing with it?”
“Does Silas have any idea where she is now?”
“That’s where Soleil comes in. One of her patrons was asking around about supernatural healers last night. Could be a coincidence, but…”
“It could be someone helping her,” he finished.
“We all know if she is anywhere near Carlton City, she’ll target my wedding. Pack security is on high alert. And if she succeeds in healing Alex, the entire pack is at risk.”
He licked his lips. “I’ll be there and I’ll make sure I’m ready for anything.”
Once they said their good-byes, Jason walked the periphery of his condo, ensuring every door and window was locked. Nickelova was one fish he hoped would get away for good. Far, far away. He hadn’t known she was a dragon fae when he slept with her. Hell, he hadn’t known her at all. They’d met at a bar and he’d forgotten her first name almost immediately after they screwed. But she played him for a fool. She’d been helping Fireborn pack’s deadliest enemy, Alex Ravien Bloodright, a rogue wolf whose goal was to kill Silas and gain control of the Lycanthropic Society. Nickelova had used Jason for information, to lure Silas out of hiding.
Jason rubbed his chest, a wave of guilt dragging him under again. He should have been more careful. He should have known Nickelova was supernatural. His vice had almost been his pack’s undoing.
He finished off the bottle of wine, too antsy to work, and only flopped onto his bed when the hour and the alcohol got the best of him. “A service to the pack,” he mumbled as he drifted off. “The cursed prince.” He fell asleep, fully clothed, the empty wine bottle still in his hand.
2
The blissful nothingness of sleep was something Jason only appreciated when it was gone, shattered by the blare of his phone’s ringtone. He forced one eye open, blinking rapidly against the lure of sleep. 4:30 a.m. Who the hell was ringing him at this hour?
His hand slapped clumsily at the phone, knocking the empty wine bottle he’d been sleeping with to the floor. It made a hollow sound as it rolled across the hardwood and clinked into the wall. Heavy with sleep paralysis, he fumbled with the device, desperate to stop the ringing. Somehow he managed to tap the screen and manipulate it close enough to his ear to be effective.
“Mr. Flynn? It’s the night doorman. I have a Teresa in the lobby for you.”
Teresa. Who the hell was Teresa? “Uh, who?”
“Redhead,” the doorman whispered.
“Oh. From the gatehouse. Send her up.”
Jason rolled out of bed and visited the bathroom for some last minute primping. He ran his fingers through his dark hair, swished some mouthwash to combat morning breath, and dripped Visine into his green eyes to get the red out. Two spritzes of an enchanted cologne he’d brought back from Monaco and he was ready for action. The witch who’d made it for him said it enhanced attraction. By all accounts, based on previous experience, he’d gotten what he paid for.
When the knock came, he was already at the door. She was still wearing her Bachman Building uniform, her smile taking up more than its share of real estate on her face. He invited her in and offered her a drink.
“Wine,” she said. “Whatever you have that’s good.”
“Make yourself at home.” He drifted to the bar, leaving her standing awkwardly in the center of the room. He’d finished off the white wine. He selected a bottle of red, Pinot Noir, and reached for the corkscrew.
“Do you live here full-time?” Teresa asked, staring at the oatmeal couch, lips parted slightly.
He was surprised by the question. “Last time I checked. Why?”
