Rowan lets out a surprised laugh. “She’s got you there, Prof.”
Villeneuve’s expression doesn’t change, but his posture shifts. Clearly, I’ve ruffled some feathers. Or scales. “I may be able to arrange something.”
“No.” Killian’s voice is harder now. “I don’t care if she’s got a point. I don’t care if the Council clears it. She’s not going back to that place.”
I close the distance between us, standing close enough to see the gold flickering in his blue eyes.
“Killian.” I keep my voice gentle. “I need to do something. We can’t just sit here and wait while you…” I stop myself before I can finish that sentence and swallow. “I need to feel like I’m contributing. Like I’m not completely helpless. I’ve spent years feeling that way, and I promised myself I never would again.”
His jaw works. I can see the conflict playing out across his features, the alpha instincts warring with his understanding of who I am, what I need.
“If something happens to you out there...” His voice comes out rough. “If we—ifI—can’t protect you, I can’t fucking live with that.”
“It won’t.” I reach up, cupping his face in my hands. His skin is warm against my palms, so much warmer than it should be. Another symptom. Another sign of the war happening inside him. “We’re going as a pack. All of us.”
Including Villeneuve, whether he wants to be a part of that pack or not.
Killian closes his eyes and takes a breath that shudders through his whole body.
“Fine,” he says finally. “But we’re not staying longer than necessary. In and out. That’s it.”
“In and out,” I agree. “I promise.”
Villeneuve clears his throat. “I’ll contact my Council liaison. Assuming they cooperate, we can have authorization by tomorrow morning.”
“Thank you.”
He inclines his head slightly. “Don’t thank me yet. The mansion may yield nothing useful. This could be a waste of time and energy that would be better spent elsewhere.”
“Maybe,” I admit. “But it’s better than just sitting here doing nothing.”
He scoffs. “We’ll see.”
“Are all dragons that arrogant?” Rowan asks once Villeneuve leaves and is presumably out of earshot.
“Who knows?” Micah answers with a shrug. “Dude’s the last of his kind.”
“Like that little unicorn bro,” Sean says, his eye a bit mistier than it was a second ago.
“Technically, I think she was a bro-ette,” Killian says, but his heart’s not in the banter tonight.
At least he’s trying.
“Oh, fuck, don’t get him started with that again,” Rowan pleads.
“I told you not to let him watch that movie,” Micah says, coming back from the fridge with several beers nestled between his fingers. He passes them out, but I shake my head when he offers me one.
“That Red Bull was such a dick,” Sean whispers, burying his head in his hands. “Haven’t been able to drink that stuff after what he did.”
Rowan’s eyes narrow. “Youdoknow the bull in the movie has absolutely nothing to do with the?—”
Micah shakes his head.
I tune them out, letting the gentle sounds of their ridiculous bickering fade into background noise. Sean is right about one thing.
Villeneuveisthe last of his kind.
It’s not an excuse for anything he’s done, but I also can’t pretend to understand his motivations when I don’t know what it’s like. Being a siphon was isolating in its own way, before the pack, but at least I knew there were others like me out there.
