Probably both.
“Ialwaysdo what is necessary,” she continued, sighing the words out like she was the injured party, “but I understand that it is hard to see from your limited perspective.”
“Limited perspective myass.You put a bomb in Margot’s fucking house. I don’t care that you knew it wouldn’t kill her. Itcouldhave.”
Kaz didn’t care that women tended to call him stoic, unfeeling. He didn’t even mind that his own family sometimes wondered if he had any warmth at all. What hedidmind was when one of his people was threatened.
He wasn’t good for much, but he’d dedicated his life to protecting what belonged to him — and Margot Goode, his half-brother Theodore’s mate, was one of those people.
Another witch belongs to you, too.
The thought came out of nowhere. It was a deep growl in the back of his mind, a wave of instinct and prickling conscience.
She doesn’t,he growled back, ruthlessly squashing the need that fizzed under his skin.She never will.
“Necessity is not always kind,” Delilah replied. “In fact, it is often cruel. You’ll understand.”
“Doubt it.”
She shrugged. They both watched as the owner walked over with a sugar-dipped martini glass in hand. Kaz rolled his eyes when Delilah accepted it with a flourish, telling her to put it on his tab.
They were quiet for several tense minutes after. He nursed his beer. She took delicate sips of her sugary concoction. The match on the feed screen ended with the gargoyle’s narrow victory before it switched to a new one.
Delilah was halfway through her drink before she asked with no preamble, “How long do you intend to fight it?”
Kaz’s fingers flexed around the neck of his beer bottle so hard, the glass developed hairline fractures. Speaking through clenched teeth, he said, “Don’t.”
“I’m only curious.”
He turned his head to glare at her. Aggression bunched the muscles of his arms and shoulders beneath his thin t-shirt and beaten leather jacket. “Don’t you fucking dare, Delilah. I don’t want or need your help.”
Even if Delilah’shelphadn’t nearly killed their brother’s mate, Kaz wouldn’t have wanted it. He’d made his choice. It was done.
His brother had indulged Margot’s wish to be married on her Coven’s land just two weeks prior. Kaz accompanied them as both security and a witness, though their family did not particularly care for the Goodes, nor for the ridiculous ceremony ofmarriage.
He shouldn’t have gone. He should have let his brother go with a full unit of the Sovereign’s Guard instead, but he’d felt compelled to. Not simply because he loved his brother and the woman who’d saved his life just by beingborn,but because…
Well, he hadn’t been able to explain it even to himself.
All he knew was that he needed to go. He needed to be there when hundreds of witches and their allies arrived to celebrate Margot’s marriage. He needed to watch the flames of the sacred fire burn, to smell the incense, to hand over the groom’s offering and see over his sister-in-law’s shoulder—
Her.
The matte black claws of his left hand dug into the edge of the bar. Only his tenuous control kept him from ripping a chunk of the wood off as he shoved the memory of warm brown skin, dark eyes, and a soft smile from his mind.
His sister sighed dramatically and set down her glass. She leaned back on her stool to stick one gloved hand into the deep inner pocket of her short black cape. He watched, jaw clenched, as she withdrew a bent legal envelope — the kind meant to hold a large amount of paper and held closed by a metal tab poked through a hole in the flap.
It wasn’t altogetherburstingwith papers, but it still had heft to it. When she dropped the bent envelope onto the bar, it landed with an ominousthwap.
“Never fear, sweet boy,” she dryly replied, “this is all the help you’ll get from me. Everything else will be your choice — whether you want to accept that or not.”
“What is that?” he demanded.
He wasn’t sure why he asked. Heknew.The hair on the back of his neck stood up even when he refused to look at the envelope. Instinct went from a light fizz under his skin to a full onbuzz,like a hive of insects had been roused inside him.
“Your favorite currency: information.” Delilah picked up her martini glass and took another leisurely sip. Her claw-caps, platinum and set with diamonds, winked in the dim light of the bar.
Kaz couldn’t help himself. His eyes were drawn to the packet like a magnet. No matter how hard he tried to look away, they kept coming back to it. In a hoarse voice, he asked, “On what?”
