“You’re right, thank you, Mr Bradshaw,” Susan Langridge said briskly. “The question is, when, where and how do we persuade this piece of scum to come running, so we get control of the narrative?”
“I think, perhaps, it needs to look as if Sorley’s given up.” Isher, the Fae who’d said nothing before the break, spoke hesitantly, as if afraid he’d be shot down.
Sorley watched as Dalziel considered the young Fae. Then he nodded slowly. “You’re right. Sorley, you need to throw a party, in a bar or club you’ve been known to frequent more regularly. Invite some friends, but not too many—”
“I’m not having Melody anywhere near this psycho!” Sorley snapped. He remembered himself and tacked on quickly, “I’d rather keep her right out of it, sire.” In a much more subdued tone, he added, “I don’t have many friends that aren’t vampires though.” He didn’t feel like admitting he didn’t have many of those either. It sounded pathetic when you considered he’d been alive for three centuries. But it was hard to keep non-vampire friends as humans had an unfortunate tendency to croak after a few decades, and vamps were often solitary, paranoid, or both. He idly wondered which category he belonged in.
“All right then.” Justin rubbed his hands together. “Plan B, you settle somewhere, and make it pretty obvious you’re happy there for now. Go out, drink, dance, be as unsubtle as you can be.” He shot a look at Gethin before saying with a hint of regret, “Look as if you’re newly single and ready to mingle. Get seen in the company of someone who commands a lot of interest on their own. Someone our bad guy wants to hurt for daring to have your undivided attention.”
Sorley deflated at the thought there was no way to avoid this. He needed this wanker stopped and brought to justice. He sighed, long and heavy.
“I’ll go back to Leeds. I’ve probably been there more than anywhere else over the past eighteen months or so, and I know a fair few folk by sight, if nothing else. Also, the flat isn’t one I’ll be too gutted about if I have to sell it for any reason.” He hoped his poker face was as good as his sire’s; whatever he’d said to the contrary to Gethin, he loved his home in Leeds and would be upset if he had to give it up.
Justin and Dalziel both looked as if they thought this was a sensible plan. Gethin, though, was giving off an aura that Sorley could feel in his bones, a soul-deep vibration of hurt and anger that he knew everyone around the table had to be picking up on. The shifter said, in a tone that suggested every syllable was carefully pre-planned, “I do hope nobody seriously imagines I’ll sit by and sanction Sorley getting it on with anyone else. I’m perfectly capable, if not more so than most, of taking care of myself against a threat.” TheIf you think I’m letting anyone else fuck him, you’re crazy,was crystal clear in both his delivery and his posture. Sorley still didn’t like being the centre of attention but he discovered he very much liked being the centre of Gethin’s universe. He felt…claimed.
It was Justin’s turn to look pained. Three times he opened his mouth to speak, and three times he shut it without uttering a word. The table was quiet, everyone waiting for his pronouncement.
The Head Wolf appeared to be having a silent conversation with both his deputy and Dalziel. Sorley, impatient on a good day, tried and failed to stifle his fingers as they beat out a rhythm against his thighs. He wanted this to be over, and to go for the longest run imaginable, to feed, and then to fuck. At the rate this damned meeting was going, he’d be lucky to scarf down a heated blood bag before dawn.
Eventually it was Neele who broke the silence. With a barely-concealed huff of impatience, she addressed the table, her crimson eyes flashing. “If you have all finished with the display of macho posturing, can one of yougentlemen” —the word dripped with disdain coming off the queen in a wave so strong Sorley felt it like a mist on his skin — “please explain what possible advantage the vampire Sorley would have without his chosen bedmate by his side? The wolf is presumably as strong as his physique suggests, and possessed of a good brain, or he would not be a member of the Council. Please do not let me hear that you believe he would be a distraction as the pair are bonded. Do you really think love to be a deterrent to fighting well? In our opinion,” and she sat back to flash a small but loaded smile in the direction of Volik, “we find this to be the very best incentive of all.”
Gethin blushed hotly, but his gaze found Sorley’s and there was nothing but sincerity in his dark eyes.I’m with you,they said, loud and clear over the burst of awkward denials and rumbles of embarrassment. Sorley wanted to look away, to pretend that Gethin was no more than a fuck buddy, that his thoughts and opinions meant nothing. He didn’t want them to be a lie though. Hereallydidn’t.
But then the Faerie queen’s words echoed in his brain and his gut clenched. ‘…pair are bonded…’No!his mind said firmly.Yes,whispered his heart.
Don’t be fucking soft!The words clanged inside his head, harsh, discordant arrows that lodged deep in his chest and stole his unneeded breaths. Sorley got to his feet before he was aware of his hands pushing away from the table top.
“I’m done!” he announced tightly. He bowed to the assembly, remembering his manners. “Perhaps one of you would be kind enough to inform me of the Council’s decision tomorrow. I need to run, and feed. I bid you all good night.”
He was out of the door, across the corridor, and through the games room into the back garden before even Dalziel could get to his feet, the door slamming behind him as he took off at a rate that was fast even for him.
27
GETHIN
Justin blockedGethin’s way as he started after the visibly shaken vampire. His hand was firm on Gethin’s arm, comfort and patience coming off his aura in such quantities Gethin could tell it was deliberate.
“Leave him be, the boy needs some time alone. It’s not like he’ll come to any harm up here. Let’s sit down again, and we’ll get Pavel to bring in the good stuff.” Gethin was barely aware of someone pressing the little brass bell that was set into the wall before the shadow was behind his chair, his peculiar cough-that-wasn’t-a-cough announcing his respectful presence.
His tongue refused to cooperate with his lips or indeed his brain, so Dalziel and Justin ordered drinks for everyone.
With the heady scent of expensive brandy tickling his nostrils, Gethin finally relaxed a fraction. He realised that everyone capable of working their mojo on the room had to be concentrating furiously on their gifts, as the atmosphere swirling about was now borderline soporific. He’d have felt guilty if he wasn’t so furious. How fuckingdareany of them even think he wasn’t the best person to be at Sorley’s side? He’d done better than well so far, even if he couldn’t be entirely sure whether a goodly dose of lust had been egging him on to protect the guy.
Or could he? Actually, he did know, and he felt justified in confirming to himself that even if Sorley had been roaringly het as well as the imperious, frustrating, jumped-up little prick he could be at times, that Gethin would have still done everything in his power to keep him safe. After all, he reasoned, Alec had been distinctly hostile and it hadn’t affected the way Gethin felt about saving him. There was no hint of sexual attraction betweenthem.Looking out for other supes was what hedid.His attraction to Sorley was a totally separate issue from his ability to do his job.
He sighed, and roughly rubbed the back of his neck. “How long is this damn meeting going to drag on now we have a plan?” Sod it, he couldn’t be arsed to censor himself anymore. “And how the ever-loving heck do we disable the target if and when we identify him? ’Cause I’m not convinced brute force is gonna make an ounce of difference to a slippery fucker like a hopped-up mage under thrall.” His gaze slid sideways. “Sorry, Marlowe, no offence.”
“None taken.” The mage was evidently pondering the same question if the deep furrow bisecting his forehead was anything to go by.
Volik’s blue-toned brows knit together as he leaned across to help himself from a pitcher of some honey-scented brew that made Gethin’s nose twitch but had brightened the mood of the three Fae when Pavel appeared with it. “Is it not obvious? You will need to be accompanied by someone with a magical talent that equals or surpasses that which you are expecting to encounter.” He paused to sip at the opaque liquid, sighed happily, and addressed Dalziel. “Your chef is truly skilled. My congratulations.” Turning his attention back to Gethin, he pouted. “Reluctantly I am not convinced it is best to fight magework with Fae magic, or I would lend you one of my people.”
Marlowe grimaced. “Does that mean I’m off to Leeds?” He didn’t look enthused, but Gethin sensed resignation from him, not true reluctance.
Dalziel’s gaze circled the room, ending up focused once more on Marlowe. “You are the highest level mage we have on the Council,” he said cautiously, “but we can’t force you to go. It would be…helpful if you could clear your schedule though.”
Gethin managed to keep his expression neutral — just. That had to be the politest way he’d ever heard of saying, ‘Get your arse moving and don’t come back until shit’s fixed’. It was a command, not a suggestion. He wondered if Marlowe knew it.
By the slight lift of the mage’s eyebrows he did indeed know. Somehow he resisted the urge to sigh, but Gethin could almost feel the effort it cost the man not to react.
