His eyes narrow. For a long moment, he simply stares at me, searching for the deception he clearly wants to find.
Then his lips curve into a wicked version of a smile.
“Consider meconsiderablyless bored.”
“I know you enjoy a challenge.” I turn from the window. “If you can find a cure, you can consider your debt wiped clean.”
That gets his attention. His whole body shifts, orienting toward me.
“You know I’m a sucker for an interesting case,” he says, his voice gone soft with genuine interest. “I would have taken it for the sake of professional curiosity alone.”
“Think of it as an incentive, then. Add in whatever resources you need, both monetary and magical, to get the job done.”
Vyse rises from my chair. He crosses to me, stops just inside the boundary of polite distance, and studies my face with a scrutiny that would be uncomfortable if I were capable of discomfort.
“You realize if the Council finds out you’re harboring a transitional werewolf, they’ll have both our heads?”
“They’ll haveyourhead,” I correct. “If anyone on the Council were capable of killing me, they would have done it a long damn time ago.”
He scoffs, but doesn’t argue the point. We both know it’s true.
“Do you have the werewolf?” he asks. “The reanimated one?”
“Charred, I’m afraid.”
“Of course.” His tone is withering. “Dragons. So fucking predictable.” He moves toward the door, then pauses. “I’ll need access to the bite victim eventually. But I’ll see what I can dig up in the meantime.”
Micah growls. The sound is low and warning and utterly pointless against someone like Vyse.
“Poor choice of words,” Vyse adds with a smile that shows too many teeth. “Ta-ta, boys.”
He’s gone before anyone can respond, slipping out of my office. The silence he leaves behind is deafening.
It lasts approximately two seconds.
Then Micah is across the room, his hand fisted in my shirt, slamming me back against the wall hard enough to rattle theframed degrees hanging behind me. His eyes have gone gold, his wolf riding very close to the surface.
“What thefuck?” His voice is a snarl. “You just told that psycho about Killian?”
I don’t fight him. Simply stand there and let him have his moment of rage. Wolves aren’t accustomed to being incapable of protecting the people they love. Especially alphas.
“He won’t tell anyone about Killian,” I say calmly. “And we don’t have a choice.”
“Like hell we don’t?—“
“What was he?” Sean’s voice interrupts Micah’s fury. He’s still in the chair where I told him to sit, but his face is pale beneath the bandage. Unsettled and sober in a way I haven’t seen from him before. “That guy. What was he? And how did he know about Storm?”
“Vyse is a siren. He possesses a myriad of psychic abilities, most of which you’re better off not thinking too much about.”
Sean blinks. “A siren? Like a mermaid?”
“Some prefer to hunt on land.”
“Hunt?” Micah’s grip on my shirt tightens. “You invited a fuckinghunterto?—”
“I invited an expert in forbidden magic to examine an impossible case.” I meet his eyes steadily. “Unless you’d prefer to watch your alpha lose his mind and tear all of you apart, in which case, by all means. Continue listing your objections and tell me whenyouhave a better idea.”
I can tell the words hit their intended mark.
