Carmen raked her talons over the underside of Jono’s wrist as she wrenched her hand free, drawing blood. “We thought as much. Lucien is waiting, Patrick. Now be a good puppet and do as you are told.”
“Fuckyou,” Patrick ground out.
“If you like,” she practically purred, licking Jono’s blood off her fingers. “I doubt your wolf would approve.”
Jono looked like he was contemplating murder, and Patrick really didn’t need to deal with that fallout. Relieved that he wouldn’t be facing Lucien alone, Patrick still resigned himself to preventing what amounted to World War III between Lucien and Jono.
“Where does he want to meet?”
“Ginnungagap.”
Patrick made a face. “Fine.”
He could’ve gone the rest of his life without going back to that void masquerading as a warehouse, but Lucien always did like to make things difficult.
“Naheed will drive us,” Carmen told him.
“We’re not getting into a car with you,” Jono retorted. “We’ll meet you there.”
Jono grabbed Patrick by the arm before he could protest and hauled him back to the pedestrian entrance of the parking garage. He could feel Carmen’s attention like knives between his shoulder blades, and he resisted the urge to look over his shoulder. He made a fist, snuffing out the mageglobe, and the silence ward died away. Sound rushed back with apopthat made him tug at an earlobe.
One look at Jono’s face as they waited for the elevator told Patrick he waspissed.
“You don’t—” Patrick began but was instantly cut off.
“Don’t bloody tell me I don’t have to go,” Jono growled. “I’mgoing. We’re a pack, and like fuck am I letting you face that psychopath alone.”
“I’ve done it before.”
The elevator doors pinged open and Jono crowded Patrick into the space. He hit the button for the third floor before settling one hand over Patrick’s waist, fingers biting into skin. The other gripped his chin, forcing his head up with a firm push. Patrick stared into Jono’s face, barely able to see his wolf-bright eyes through the dark lenses of the sunglasses he wore.
“Stop it,” Jono told him in a low voice. “We’re in this together, whatever it is this time around. We’re a pack. You don’t get to sod off and pretend otherwise. I won’t let you.”
Patrick swallowed in the face of Jono’s frustrated anger, not knowing what to say to that. He didn’t have an SOA-assigned partner, and learning to keep Jono in the loop about things was still a work in progress.
“Sorry,” Patrick finally said.
Jono let out a heavy sigh before brushing his lips against Patrick’s in a soft, close-mouthed kiss. “If that fucking bastard touches you, I’ll murder him.”
“He’s already dead.”
“Then I’ll murder himtwice.”
Patrick wondered what it said about him that Jono promising murder to defend his honor made him want to drop to his knees and suck Jono’s cock as a thank-you.
* * *
Patrick wasunsurprised to discover that Lucien had been busy in the weeks since summer solstice.
The warehouse was fenced off for construction purposes, and while there wasn’t any parking on the street, the alleyway between it and the neighboring building worked well enough. A sleek red Aston Martin that Patrick parked behind looked completely out of place.
The otherworldly threshold wrapped around the warehouse felt the same. The side door had been replaced with a heavy oak door lined with runes at the edges. The old brass nameplate hadn’t been thrown away, but nailed back into place in the center of the new door. Someone had cleaned off the green patina that had covered the letters naming the place.
Ginnungagap would never be a home, but it was a hole one could hide in, as Lucien was doing now.
Patrick pushed open the heavy door, wincing as the metaphysical threshold came down hard over his soul. His shoulders slumped against the invisible weight of Ginnungagap, and even a quiet, mental promise ofI mean you no harmwasn’t enough to completely appease what lived inside these walls. Some of the pressure on his magic eased, but not all of it. Like last time, the sound of the city was muffled inside, the dead zone Ginnungagap created blocking out most of the world.
Patrick shook his head, taking in the space. Where once it had been full of trash and debris accumulated over years, now all the garbage was gone, walls had been refurbished, and the area had been built out into the skeleton of what would become a club someday soon. Patrick could see it in the private booths being finished, the long bar covered with a dust tarp, and the measured-off space for a dance floor.
