Drunk or not, her praise hit deep.
“I wish y-you weren’t gay. Xan feels it… my lust. It’s for you. Which is amazing. But… gah. I’m drunk. Talking is bad. Um-kay.” She hiccupped.
It hit me slow, our careful pace had made her think we weren’t interested.
I swore across the bond, enough to shame a sailor.
‘What’s happening?’Xan asked.
‘Too many things at once. I’m securing The Mile as best I can. We must talk to Quinn, in detail. Tonight.’
Cayden and Rowan returned. I couldn’t help myself. I cupped Quinn’s cheek and kissed her softly. Her lips tasted of fear and rain. I told myself it was comfort, not confession.
“We’ll continue this when you’re sober.”
Her dull gaze lit. She nodded.
Cayden’s scowl burned, rage trembling through him. The air cracked between us, not from magic, but from jealousy too raw to name, and he lunged for me. Rowan caught the rune mage with his good arm.
I didn’t react. I murmured reassurance, eased Quinn’s grip, and turned to duty. My men needed me.
I jerked my head, letting Rowan know he was once again responsible for Quinn’s safety, and trotted to my enforcers, who had grouped up around Brit. Everly and Hero stood in front of a trio of Griersons. Two wore crisp dark-red uniforms and matching hats that hadn’t wrinkled despite the fight. The third could have been Everly’s uncle in rich leathers and bright trainers.
My few enforcers mingled with men I didn’t recognize. Splashes of mud and blood peppered their uniforms; one held his arm to his chest, while another leaned heavily on a short man in dark-purple robes. A third pod of men in the washed-out orange of the Abernathys watched both groups distrustfully. More groups solidified. What started small now looked like an inkblot of men from every family in front of the bakery. Tension filled the air, moments away from becoming a fight once more.
‘Situation under control,’I told my lover. ‘But still tense.’
‘I’m almost there,’ Xan responded.
As I barked orders, I let Xan rifle through my experiences so he could take control with as complete a picture as I could paint.
Two barrel-chested men with beaded braids shoved one of my enforcers—bad luck. I exhaled, slid into his shadow, and stepped out into the McDonald leader’s face.
“I’m glad we arrived when we did,” I said, subtly giving my enforcer a hand signal.
My man turned and made his way to the Abernathys, who were forming a defensive line across The Mile. Although I couldn’t see any more of the gray camo uniforms, body snatchers didn’t necessarily conform to rules. Any of them could be one, and no one would know.
“The Mile’s neutral territory.” Wayde McDonald stepped back. Small victory. I relished it.
Nothing about this place felt neutral anymore.
Wayde scowled at me through his sludge-brown beard.
“Extra hands are acceptable,” I said. “With body snatchers about, no daughter is safe.” Sons too, but the McDonalds were traditionalists.
Wayde McDonald grunted while his son pursed his lips.
“The Architect’s en route,” I said flatly. “Express your concerns to him.”
Wayde McDonald pointed at Quinn, who balanced on Cayden while Rowan kneeled at her feet. “Quinn. The powerhouse with eyes from the past, poisoned by the Architect’s mind magic—”
“She’s not under our control. No one is here against their will.” My hand itched for my sword. I held it.
“Her family?” the younger McDonald pressed.
His Intention was one of the many in Xan’s office. Neither of these McDonalds even knew her. They wanted power in their line, not ours.
I kept my face neutral. “We’re her family.”
