I only wished I knew.
Chapter Twenty-Two
Say that again.”The deliberately controlled anger in the familiar voice roused me, and I blinked my way back to the light.
It wasn’t the searing, eyeball-imploding brightness of Vegas at midday, but rather the dim electric light of my bedroom, with the curtains drawn and the blinds down over the windows.Not my borrowed bedroom at Dante’s, with its gilt everything and foreign smells only faintly overridden by pack, but my room at home.And I was so grateful for that that I could have hugged the pillow and cried, but that wouldn’t be appropriate for a war mage.
Which was relevant because there was another one in the room, and he wasn’t Caleb.
Well, damn.
I checked to make sure I had clothes on, and thankfully, someone had put me in a cute pink-and-white plisse nightie with a little bow at the bottom of the scooped neck.It wasn’t mine; I didn’t know whose it was.But I was grateful for it, because a moment later, hard little pebble eyes were staring into my soul.
They belonged to Richard Hargroves, the spit-and-polished old school bastard the Corps had brought out of retirement when the war started to lead the Corps in this region.His rank was Lord General, which in the Corps was roughly equivalent to a bird colonel in the U.S.Army, although the bird in question would have to be hungry because he was looking at me like I was meat.Fresh meat.
Hargroves didn’t like me.Hargroves thought a Were in service was bad enough, but a female Were?It put his back up as soon as I walked into a room.
Of course, his presence had the same effect on me, and that was when I was properly attired and not passed out in bed.
It didn’t help that he was dressed as formally as always, while I probably looked like hell.I was starting to think he slept in three-piece suits as I’d never seen him without one.This particular version was dark blue with tiny gray pinstripes that matched his cold, blue-gray eyes, thin form, and waves of silver hair and appeared to have been both tailored and ironed to within an inch of its life.
Even the pocket hanky was standing at attention.
I sighed.
Hargroves managed to make me feel inferior and slipshod even when I wasn’t sleep-rumpled, with tousled hair and a line of crusted drool at the edge of my mouth.I quickly wiped the latter away and tried to concentrate on whatever was being said.It was hard.
Like, really hard.I was fully human again, yet my wolf brain kept intruding.Now that I was awake, it was sending me all kinds of information I didn’t want or need, in what almost felt like a panicked flood.
Hargroves had had pastrami on rye for lunch, from the Corps’ canteen by the smell of it, which stunk up the whole place on days when they were serving it, as it came with a generous dollop of sauerkraut on top.He’d dropped a spot of mustard on his impeccable tie and magicked it off; I could still smell the tiny residue the spell had left behind, and almost see it as well, like a sparkly tie-tack.I knew what aftershave he wore, what soap he used, and the scent, if not the brand, of his hair gel.
I suddenly knew something else, too, and leaped for him.
“What the—” somebody said, but it wasn’t Hargroves.
Because he might have an elevated rank now, but it wasn’t because he’d come from one of the legacy families that almost guaranteed a top job for their sons shortly after joining up.No, Hargroves had come up through the ranks, and despite the aristocratic looks, had been known as a badass street fighter in his youth.Or so the rumors said.
And they were spot freaking on, I thought, when his magic grabbed me halfway through the motion despite Were speed and—
Damn, I thought, as I was slammed against the wall, harder than my abused back could really take.
Just damn.
“Let her go!”Half a dozen young men were suddenly in the room, and they were pissed.The musky scent of pack flooded the small space so completely that even Hargroves’ nose twitched.And only Cyrus, placing himself between them, kept the group from rushing my boss.
Although, to be fair, Hargroves wasn’t helping things by ignoring the command.Or by approaching me with a scowl on his thin face and narrowed eyes.“What is the issue now, mage?”
His voice cracked like a whip, letting me know that this latest stunt didn’t amuse him—at all.And that I’d better come up with a good explanation right quick, or he wouldn’tbemy boss anymore.Despite the de Croissets’ name, there were plenty of the Corps who would love to see me tossed out on my furry behind, so I decided to be as blunt as I was always accused of being.
“You have a curse on you.”
“What?”The high forehead wrinkled.I suppose he hadn’t expected that.
“Curse.On you.I can smell it but not identify it—”
“Smell it?”That was Hargroves and Cyrus together.
“I don’t smell anything,” Cyrus said, frowning.Because his nose was supposed to be better than mine.
