Standingat the edge of Villeneuve's property feels like standing at the mouth of a dragon's lair. A dragon's lair inhell.
Which… might not be far from the truth, given what we know about the bastard.
The morning sun reflects on all the glass surfaces of his stupid pretentious mansion, and I feel like an ant under a bully's magnifying glass. Sure, my family is rich as fuck, too, but at least we invest in stone. Wolves and glass houses don't mix. One drunken game of fetch and it all comes crashing down.
My wolf paces beneath my skin, hackles raised at the faint tingle of magic that marks the boundary of his wards.
We can't cross them.
Not withouthispermission.
And that grates on every alpha instinct I possess.
Regina stands beside me, completely calm despite the fact that I'm freaking the fuck out. Through our bond, I can feel her amusement at my hostility, which only makes it worse.
I'd take her thinking I'm funny over her being afraid of me any day, though.
She's cradling something in her hands. A small glass vial filled with liquid that pulses with soft, amber light.
"What is that?" I ask, nodding toward it.
She glances down at the vial, her thumb brushing across its surface. "A stabilizing solution. One of my specialties."
"Your specialties?"
"Siphons are good at certain types of magic that regular witches struggle with." She holds the vial up to the light, and the glow intensifies. Warm patterns flash across her face. She's wearing her glamour again. Wish she wouldn't. "This is a stabilizing agent. It's useful for dozens of different spells."
"Sounds valuable."
"It is. The witches who came to Kyle's coven always wanted me to make them." Her voice stays neutral, but I catch the slight tightening around her soft jaw at the mention of her ex. "Non-siphons can produce them, but it takes triple the time and the results are inconsistent. Mine are... well. Better."
"So you're bringing Villeneuve a bribe."
Regina shoots me a look that could curdle milk and also happens to be sexy as fuck. "It's not abribe. It's a thank you for helping with the ritual."
"Seems like the same thing."
"There's a diplomatic process to these things, Killian." She tucks the vial carefully into her jacket pocket. "You don't walk into a negotiation empty-handed. And youdefinitelydon't open with what you want. You build rapport first and establish goodwill."
"I don't want to build rapport with that guy. I want to punch him in his smug face."
"And that's exactly why I'm the one doing the talking."
Can't really argue with that logic.
We wait in uncomfortable silence. Well,I'muncomfortable. Regina seems perfectly content to stand here in the crisp morning air, watching the house like she's got all the time in the world. The bond between us hums with her steady confidence, her certainty that this is the right move.
I wish I shared it.
The distant growl of an engine cuts through the quiet. My head snaps toward the sound, wolf senses already identifying the vehicle before it rounds the corner. Sleek and obnoxious.
Villeneuve's Aston Martin purrs up the private drive like a metal panther, black paint gleaming in the sunlight. The car alone probably costs more than the fucking frat house. Hell, more than everything in the frat house combined, including Sean's "vintage" gaming console collection.
The engine cuts off.
The door opens.
And there he is.
