“What?”
“Nothing you need to worry about.” She wasn’t even close to earning my trust when it came to the location of Conclave.
“We have to go, Lachlan.” She handed the contract back, this time careful not to touch me.
“I have to go,” I countered. “I’m not risking my men again.”
Hurt flashed across her face. “Because you don’t trust me.”
“Because trust is something you earn, and—” I sighed, clenched my teeth, and tried again. “I believe you. But I’m not risking my men. I’ll go in alone, and if I see Daphne, I’ll extract her.”
“She’ll run from you.”
“I’m faster.”
Valor stood and began pacing in front of the couch, pinching her lower lip between thumb and forefinger. Then she stopped right in front of me. “You can do that whole disappear, reappear thing, right?”
A smile tugged up the corner of my lips. “It’s called wending, and you already know I can.” That was exactly how she’d gotten my branding mark—I’d palmed the nape of her neck when she’d shown up at the edges of the estate, having tracked Lyric’s phone.
“Okay, so wend me in with you. If I’m lying, we wend out together, and you can…” She seemed to weigh her thoughts. “Punish me as you see fit.”
The idea had merit, though I wasn’t sure if I’d want to punish her or fuck her into the nearest wall. Fuck her. Her plan would only put me at risk—not my king or the Order—which was acceptable. “Fine.”
“Really?” Her slow smile was sexy as hell and twisted up my insides into a damned knot.
“Really.” I stood and quickly moved to put the chair between us.
Her scent changed, something heavier coming into play, and I turned to see her shoulders squaring as her chin rose, which I was quickly learning was never a good sign with her.
“What is it?”
“What happened in your bedroom…” She swallowed, and her breath hitched slightly.
“The kiss?” My voice dropped as I tried, and failed, to shove the memory out of my head.
“Yeah.” She nodded slowly, running her tongue over her lower lip. “That can’t happen again. You muddle up my thoughts, and we agreed not to give in to this.”
Ouch. But she was right.
“Agreed. And it’s not me you have to worry about, lass,” I said, turning toward the door and striding across the hardwood floor. “You were the one in my bedroom, remember? Have that talk with yourself.”
She was sputtering when I shut the doors behind me.
* * *
“Open your eyes,” I said softly a few days later, holding Valor’s shoulders steady so she didn’t fall over. Wending could nauseate even the most hardened soldier when they weren’t used to it.
“That is so fucking weird.” She shivered as she opened her eyes, and I rubbed my hands down her bare arms. Her blue dress was strapless, and what she assured me was semi-casual attire, whatever the fuck that meant.
She’d put me in slacks and a black dress shirt when I’d laughed my ass off at the green one she’d brought me out of Benedict’s closet. First, I was happy leaving the clothes-horsing to Benedict, and second, I was four inches taller than he was and had a good fifty pounds of muscle on him. Besides, this one tucked in at all the right places to conceal the Glocks holstered in my waistband.
I wasn’t stupid enough to come unarmed.
“Where are we?” She looked around in confusion at the stone walls.
“The cellar,” I answered, focusing my senses outward to listen for footsteps. “All clear. Let’s go.” The door was well-oiled, and I got her out of there before she could notice the hidden doors located in that very room.
“How did you know it was there?” she whispered, following me out into the fluorescent lighting of the hallway.
“I was here when this opera house was built, lass.” We’d overseen every renovation and improvement, making sure that above-ground levels of the opera house gave us just as much as an advantage as the lower levels that tunneled outward into the five boroughs.
“Of course you were,” she muttered as we climbed the stairs that would lead us to the kitchen.
“Stay in the shadows,” I reminded her.
“Yeah, yeah. We’ve gone over the plan about a million times,” she grumbled.
We entered into the bustling kitchen, and I nodded at Javier, who manned the stove. His demon horns rose high on his forehead, but none of the staff noticed…because no one could see them, not even Valor. Demons had been gifted with permanent glamours, which allowed them to interact with humans just like witches—undetected. Only supernaturals could see through the magic that kept their features hidden.
Javier barked orders at his sous chefs, then came our way.
“They’re all out on the terrace,” he told me quietly. “Take the southern stairs. Julie is on guard.”
“Thank you,” I said, taking Valor’s hand in mine when Javier’s eyes roamed the line of her body. “You’ve met my mate, Valor?”