The disdain in Aaron’s voice might have been annoying if what he’d said was even remotely true. Patrick kept an eye on the other man even as he conjured up a tiny mageglobe hidden against the table beneath his cupped hand. He didn’t need to tap a ley line through the soulbond for this, just his own damaged soul.
With Jono on his way, Patrick focused the spell to deal with the artifact rather than Aaron. If he disrupted the artifact’s magic, it might give him enough time to save the people sitting at the table. They’d most likely still need medical intervention from a healer. Hopefully, they’d all stay alive long enough to get it.
“You’re sure interested in knowing about my personal life when you haven’t even asked for my name yet,” Patrick said, the pull on the soulbond feeling like it did at home, when Jono was close enough to yell for. Not that he needed to yell. Supernatural hearing meant Jono could hear a whisper from one floor away. “I’m kind of disappointed you don’t recognize me.”
“Should I?” Aaron asked, coming to a stop in his attempt to wear a hole in the carpet. He eyed Patrick suspiciously, and Patrick only smiled at him.
“You should ask for my name.”
Aaron turned, lifting the artifact, the end of it pointing in Patrick’s direction. “What is it?”
“Patrick Collins.”
Aaron’s eyes went comically wide, his hand jerking up higher. His mouth opened, but whatever he was going to say never escaped his lips as Jono crashed through the door to the conference room with a snarling howl. He was massive, all dark fur and blazing bright blue eyes of a god pack alpha werewolf going in for the kill.
Patrick surged to his feet, knocking the chair over, and swung his arm up to fling his mageglobe at the artifact. “Keep him alive!”
“Ugh, you’ve gone soft,” Wade complained as he darted into the room.
The artifact left Aaron’s hand when Jono cleared the conference table in a single leap and slammed him to the ground. Patrick’s mageglobe slammed into it, expanding to contain it as red filaments of magic snapped away from the carved bone, fighting against the disrupting spell. Patrick’s magic pulsed pale blue around the artifact, the mageglobe hovering in midair above the table. With a flick of his hand, he sent it streaking over to Wade.
“Take it into the hall and burn it,” Patrick said, mindful of their audience in the room and the sniper in the other building staring through their scope. None of them needed to know what Wade was.
Wade’s hand passed easily through Patrick’s mageglobe to grip the artifact. He made a face as his fingers connected with the bone. “Ew.”
“You’re not eating it, so don’t complain.”
Wade rolled his eyes before leaving the conference room with a touch of supernatural speed. The sound of him belching fire came a few seconds later. The fiery red lines that traced the veins of everyone seated at the table abruptly disappeared. Every last one of them slumped in their seats, a few sliding right off, groaning in pain.
Patrick went to the closest person, doing what triage he could. No one seemed to be seizing, so hopefully they wouldn’t have to worry about aneurysms, but they’d need to be cleared by someone better skilled in healing magic than him.
“Hey.” A warm hand caught him by the elbow as Patrick stoodafter making one of the attorney generals comfortable on the floor. “Are you all right?”
Patrick turned to look at Jono, his lover having lost his clothes somewhere between the street and now. Patrick was intimately familiar with all that skin and muscle, but he didn’t want anyone else to be.
“There’s a sniper in the building across the street. You’re probably giving them a show,” Patrick said, trying not to sound jealous.
Jono raised an eyebrow, a smile quirking at his lips. Like every other werecreature in Patrick’s life, Jono didn’t care about nudity. “Suppose I should have Wade get my clothes.”
“Where’d you leave them?”
“In the lift.”
At least he’d had time to take them off so he wouldn’t have to walk around Manhattan naked. Not that it would be the strangest thing New Yorkers would have seen. “Wade, go get Jono’s clothes.”
A confirming shout from the hallway told him Wade had heard the order. Moments later, Wade was back, clothes in hand and smelling like smoke and fire. The artifact was nowhere to be seen. The SOA would probably be mad about that, but Patrick figured they’d be more grateful their people were alive than not.
“Here you go. Get dressed before Patrick murders someone for looking at your dick,” Wade said, very decisively keeping his eyes on Jono’s face.
“I wouldn’t murder anyone with witnesses around,” Patrick muttered.
Jono laughed as he pulled on his pants and did up the zipper. “You know I only love you.”
“Yeah.” Patrick stared at him, listening to the sound of feet thundering through the office in the distance. Reinforcements would arrive in a few moments, and all Patrick could think about was how Aaron had threatened the lives of people he didn’t know, all because he loved his wife. Patrick had done far worse over Jono if he were honest. “We should get married.”
Jono paused in pulling on his shirt, gaze snapping to Patrick’s facewhile Wade sounded like he was choking on something. “Was that you asking?”
“I’ve asked before.”
