Callum's gaze softened. "I really did scare you, huh? I'm sorry. I wasn't trying to."
"I'll accept your apology if you give me some space," I said.
He shifted over to the opposite side of the couch and slouched against the back, stretching his legs out in front of him.
"How did it go with Dumont?" Marcus asked. He was glaring at Callum, but Ava must have understood he was asking her because she was the one who answered.
"Marcel is returning home. He is young and sometimes his bloodlust still gets the best of him."
Marcus' head snapped around so he could look at her. "And you believe that complete crock of bullshit? Young vampires can't usually trace unless they're a direct descendent of a very powerful master. Dumont isn't that old or powerful."
I felt my eyebrows lift. He was practically snarling. That was definitely scary. And reminded me a little of the werewolf shifter romances I sometimes read on my phone. But I wasn't sure if it was in a good way or a bad way.
Ava shrugged and glanced at Macgrath.
"Of course we didn't," he said. "But, as Marcel is his vassal and Dumont has promised to discipline him and send him home. Since he didn't hurt you, only scared you, we can't ask for more. At least according to the laws laid out by the Vampire Council." Macgrath sneered as he continued, "Which is exactly why I hate the damn Council in the first place. Complete waste of blood."
Ava came over to the coffee table and sat down on it, facing me. "I'm sorry, Merry. I hate that we can't take any action against him, but we're not in a position to take on the Council. Not yet."
"But Marcel is leaving town?" I asked.
Ava nodded. "He's going back to Louisiana."
I supposed that was better than nothing. But Ava was right. Marcel hadn't hurt me. He hadn't done more than terrify me about out of my wits.
Jeez, that sounded much worse in my head than it did when Ava said it.
It scared me all over again and irritated the hell out of me at the same time.
"Great, so he acts like an asshole, gets a slap on the damn wrist, and gets to go home like a bad little boy. Meanwhile, I'll probably be having nightmares about him for the next six months!" I had no idea that I was going to say all that. Nor that I was going to leap to my feet so I could pace around the living room. I whirled toward Macgrath. "Does that sound right to you?"
He crossed his arms over his chest and I was suddenly aware of how huge he was. He was great looking and resembled Marcus and Callum more than I would have expected, but he was also a lot bigger than me. More than a lot.
Maybe I shouldn't be mouthing off to him because I was pretty sure he could pound me to dust with one fist.
"No, it doesn't sound right to me, but Ava wouldn't let me behead him."
Okay. Wow. Not what I was expecting.
I blinked a few times. I had no idea how to respond.
Finally, I settled for, "Maybe that would be a little excessive."
He shrugged. "That's what she said."
I wasn't sure if his surly attitude made me feel better or fear for my safety.
Ava sighed and elbowed him. "Stop with your scary barbarian attitude. She doesn't know you well enough to understand that it's just an act."
He lifted an eyebrow at her. "Who said it's an act?"
She jabbed him in the side with her elbow and he dropped his arms from across his chest. His face...changed. His jaw relaxed and his eyes sparkled with humor and affection. He even smiled.
And just like that, he looked like a handsome man in love rather than a warrior who'd decapitate me and drink coffee from my skull.
"Who would you rather have on your side?" he asked, looking at me. "The guy who carries a sword and destroys your enemies or the guy who pats your head and tells you it's all going to be okay?"
"Good point," I murmured.
