I heard the rustle of someone standing and speaking a few low words to the werewolves, who nodded and retreated back into the rear cabin. In the next moment, a man filled the doorway.
The first thing I noticed was his eyes. He wore no sunglasses, and his eyes were a soft blue.Not a werewolf.He was dressed in an elegant black suit with no tie. His hair was buzzed short, and he was fit but not as tall or bulky as the werewolves. In fact, there was a marked gracefulness to him. No hard edge of malice rolled off him as it did with the werewolves, though instinct told me that if he was the one who arranged this kidnapping, he had to be extremely dangerous.
“Willow O’Dell.” His voice was like river water over stones, smooth and a little deceptively quiet. The kind of man who commanded attention not by yelling but by speaking low. He made his way through the cabin and sank into the luxury chair opposite me. “I’m sorry we have to meet like this.”
He pulled a bottle of water out of a mini-fridge and then used a pocketknife to cut through the binds tying down one of my hands. Once it was free, I took the bottle gratefully and struggled to unscrew the cap with just one hand.
“Who are you?” My voice was hoarse as I took a sip.
He rubbed a hand over his chin, shifting his position in the leather seat, and then said, “My name’s Jack Meruvis, but you’ve probably heard me called something different.”
Unsure, I took in all the clues about him: the fact that his eyes didn’t glow, his dark clothes, his obvious resources. He didn’t look fae, but for all I knew, he possessed some type of glamour I couldn’t see through. In a dry voice, I asked, “Black Ember?”
He shook his head. “The Werewolf King.”
My spine went rigid in surprise. I immediately blurted out, “But you aren’t a werewolf.”
His smile was soft and a little self-conscious; he’d gotten this reaction often. “I’m never what anyone expects. They think I’ll be a hulk like Ulfur or Dermon or Brynna back there. I’m human, just like you.”
I shook my head, not understanding. “How is that possible? I’ve heard—”
“Yeah, I gather there are plenty of rumors about me,” he interrupted. “It’s in my best interest to let the Gifted Realm fear me, think the worst of me.” He leaned forward, tenting his hands. There was a thoughtfulness to him that I’d never seen in a fae or werewolf, certainly not a demon. A uniquely human trait. “I was adopted as a child, raised among the Jackrabbit Pass pack in the mountains of Colorado. After a while, the pack came to respect my leadership abilities. They’d always had an alpha in charge, certainly never a human. But werewolves are more open-minded than people think. I moved up the ranks, and they eventually voted me as the alpha. Because I was always an outsider, I had a unique perspective. One foot in the Gifted Realm, one in the human one. It’s a strength, and the werewolves saw that.”
Though it was fascinating to meet a human who commanded werewolf packs, I didn’t forget the awful rumors I’d heard about the Werewolf King. “Youled the attack on Wilde Tower.”
His lips pressed together grimly. He slumped back in his chair, running a hand over his short hair. “I did. Or at least, my team and I organized the demons who did. I don’t resort to violence unless I don’t see any other option. The Gifted Realm respects strength and shows of force. You’ve probably learned that by now. It’s sometimes the only way to get their attention.”
“But why?” I was baffled. Jack Meruvis seemed soft-spoken and reasonable, though I reminded myself that could just be an act.Don’t forget he kidnapped you.“Why would you set demons on us?”
His soft blue eyes hovered on the clouds outside, and it was a moment before he said, “Because of who your husband is.”
I started. “Severn? We aren’t married.”
“I’ve seen photographs that prove otherwise.”
I leaned forward in my chair, groaning. “It was a misunderstanding. It’s a long story. The paparazzi took that photo. It was just a kid’s game—we were only pretending…”
Jack regarded me evenly like he didn’t believe a word out of my mouth. I supposed itwasexactly what anyone would say in my position.Deny, deny.He had no way of knowing it was the truth. I sighed, sinking back into the chair. What did it matter, anyway? Severn might not be my husband, but hewasmy boyfriend up until a few hours ago.
“How much do you know about Severn?” Jack asked with an odd hitch in his voice.
I shifted, unable to get comfortable with one wrist still bound and not liking the question. “I know about his realm, if that’s what you’re asking.”
Jack uncrossed and then recrossed his legs, his foot bobbing in a very human way. “And about his politics? His past?”
With a shudder, I recalled the werewolf prisoner being tortured on the thirteenth floor, and that Locke and Severn had both mentioned to me there was disagreement among the fae courts about whether the Gifted Realm should remain hidden.
“Not a lot,” I admitted.
He nodded as though that was what he’d expected. “Your husband has been alive for five hundred years. He was in the 30 Year War in the 1600s, the French Revolution, World War II. Look, all I’ve heard are rumors, and from what I gather, he didn’t exactly adhere to wartime law.”
I stared at him wide-eyed. He dragged his head back and forth, unwilling to say more as though it was all too disturbing.
“What do you mean?” I asked, voice rising in alarm. “What did he do?”
But we were interrupted by one of the werewolves, who came in and handed Jack a phone. He glanced at a text on the screen and then muttered, “Tell him the job is done. I’ll call him when we land.”
I briefly wondered who Jack was referring to—was he working with a partner? Another werewolf leader?—but I was too fixated on what Jack had insinuated about Severn.
