Not her mate.
Not even her partner in the queen’s hunt.
Just Callum.
“And Callum, this is my friend Gavin.”
HerfriendGavin. The word sticks in the back of my mind, caught in the conversation we had after arriving in this realm, and when I arch a brow at her, color stains her cheeks.
The wielder—Gavin—also gives her a look that’s not very hard to interpret, obviously as perturbed by his own introduction as I was by mine. Nonsensically, a wave of possession washes over me.
Seren can have as many friends as she wants.
Men. Women. Demons. Humans. Hell, she can befriend a troll or a fae or an ogre for all I care.
But she only has one mate, and I want the entire world to know it.
I wrap an arm around her waist, wishing like anything it was my tail so I could encircle her completely, tether her to me, show everyone around in the demon way that this witch is mine.
Seren stiffens a little at the touch, but almost immediately melts into it. She glances up and shoots me an amused, affectionate look. I try very, very hard not to let it inflate my ego before turning back to the man.
“So,” she says. “You’ve got an address for me?”
The wielder’s smile fades. “I… might. But I still don’t think this is a great idea. Everything I said about Faerie still stands.”
I bite back a growl. Who is he to question her?
We’re on Seren’s turf now, though, and I have to let her lead. She has some sort of history with this man, and she likely knows better than I do what sort of encouragement he needs to give us the information.
“Noted,” she says with a winsome, cocky smile. “I think I can handle it.”
The wielder doesn’t look entirely convinced. “If you say so. And the other matter we discussed? You’ll have the shipment sent to the Archwielder?”
“Consider it done.”
He narrows his eyes. “I know we’re friends, Seren, but the Archwielder is going to need more than your word and my trust in you.”
Seren sighs and pulls her cell phone from her pocket. “Fine. How about if I connect my supplier to the old bastard and let him coordinate the shipment himself?”
Gavin frowns at Seren’s disrespect, but concedes with a reluctant nod. “I can take that proposal to him and get his approval.”
“How long is that going to take?”
“Not long. I can have the name and the address to you by midnight.”
Seren hums unhappily. “That long?”
“Oh, by all means,” Gavin deadpans. “If you’d like to come talk to the Archwielder yourself, you’re more than welcome. I’m sure your particular brand of charm would win him over.”
“I don’t like your tone.”
Both Seren and Gavin look at me, as if they’d forgotten I was here while they negotiated. Gavin scowls, and though Seren tries to hide it, she can’t quite disguise the smile that threatens at the edges of her lips.
For the first time since we’ve been standing here, Gavin seems to really look at me. And though the glamour still conceals my true form, he must be able to tell there’s something not quite human about me.
“Where’d you say you were from, Callum?” Gavin asks.
“He didn’t,” Seren cuts in before I can offer an answer. “And neither did I.”
