If the werewolves were that upset about my involvement, it did make me wonder how they’d react to learning Thomas had already known about the pack’s plight before we ever got on that plane.
“Do me a favor—if you find him, call me first. Don’t do anything without me,” I warned.
“I’ll do my best. That’s all I can promise.”
I forgot about Alches for a second as I held the phone tighter. “I mean it, Caroline. You’ll need me to break his enthrallment.”
Otherwise, there was a chance he’d turn on them.
Caroline was stronger than most wolves, but she couldn’t take on an alpha of Brax’s level. She’d die. Her wolves would die.
If the Fae holding him and the others didn’t turn her first.
“I’m aware of the risks.”
“Caroline.”
“Take care of yourself, Lena. I’ve got to go. I’ll talk to you later.”
The line went dead.
“She’s going to get herself killed,” I muttered, lowering the phone to stare at it, as if in doing so it would give me the answers I wanted. “Just be safe, Caro.”
I was too old to find a replacement for my best friend.
Locking my screen, I tossed the phone onto the bed beside me before sitting up to regard Alches.
The realm guardian thumped his tail in greeting.
“Don’t give me that. Where have you been all this time?”
Out with Liam. That’s where.
I wasn’t jealous. Not at all. Just a little miffed. I liked adventures too.
Bastards. The both of them.
In answer, Alches spat the thing in his mouth on the ground. A figure covered in slobber landed at my feet.
“What’s this?”
Alches thumped his tail as an unfamiliar pixie raised onto her forearms to glare at the realm guardian. A stream of words in another language fell from her mouth. The contents of which I didn’t have to guess. Some things were just universal.
“You shouldn’t be worried about him and what he did to you. He’s not your real problem right now. I am.” Squatting down next to the pixie, I gave her a friendly smile. “My sire isn’t a fan of spies. I suggest you start talking.”
The pixie fastened eyes, a blue so pale they were almost white, on me. “Oh great. A fucking fang-head.”
There was a slight accent when she spoke. A lilt similar to the one I heard sometimes from Liam. Usually when he was in the throes of extreme emotion.
“Smart. Insult the person who holds your fate in their hands.”
Were bad attitudes a pixie thing? It seemed every single one I ran into was cut from the same cloth.
The rest of the pixie’s coloring mirrored her eyes. Her wings and skin looked like they’d been touched by frost. A sword was fastened around her waist. Evidence she was a warrior of some kind.
The pixie’s lip curled as she looked me up and down as she muttered to herself. “What is she thinking by involving this fang-head? Maybe they were right, and she’s really as mad as they say.”
There was only one pixie I knew who was referred to as mad.
