No Humans Involved (Otherworld 7)

"And you shouldn't." I paused. "Does she know yet?"

He shook his head. "I don't plan to tell her for some time. If I did, she'd suspect I want out, and she'd do everything she could to help me achieve that. And, as you said, her priority should be her family, not her Pack. At least for a few more years."

I wanted to say, "That's okay. I'll wait," but I knew that wasn't what he was asking.

"That's best," I said. "It'll give Clay more time to recover too. How's his arm?"

"As good as it will get. He knows that. Whatever that zombie did to him, it's beyond what medicine can fix. The trick now is to learn to compensate. And to regain his confidence, get him back to a place where he feels he can defend his family, his Pack, his Alpha. If that Alpha is Elena, he's going to need to be in top fighting condition."

"Because other werewolves, outside the Pack, will see a female Alpha as a sign of weakness."

"Or, at least, of change and, as I said, we don't respond well to change. Elena's used to being in danger. It comes with being Clay's mate. His enemies might not dare take on Clay himself, but there are other ways to hurt him."

"Through Elena."

"Most werewolves will not believe that a woman, even a werewolf, poses a threat, and therefore Elena is seen as an easy target." He smiled at me. "Fortunately, she isn't." His smile faded. "But she's always been in danger, just by being his lover."

Another message for me.

"Having a female Alpha will be an adjustment for all. It took a long time for me to accept Elena as a werewolf. Logically, I was fine with it, but deep down?" He shook his head. "It wasn't easy. To Clay, having a mate was the most natural thing. The wolf in him is so strong it rules out everything else. But for me? Being raised as a werewolf means being raised to keep your distance from roma

ntic entanglements. Pack werewolves weren't allowed to form long-term relationships, let alone marry. Open yourself up to someone and you might be tempted to tell her everything. Now that the werewolves are back in the supernatural fold, there are women who can safely know my secret. I still have trouble accepting that."

We sat there for a while, staring at the water.

I knew now that Jeremy hadn't come to L.A. to declare himself--or to let me down easy--but to give us both a chance to explore the possibilities and weigh them against the consequences. We could spend time together, away from being "werewolf Alpha and necromancer delegate." Time to decide whether it was better to stay friends or risk becoming lovers.

Becoming lovers would come with risks. He was letting me know what I'd be in for. A lover who couldn't fly to meet me for romantic getaways. A lover whose priority would always be his family and his Pack. A lover who would put my life in danger just by being with me, making me a target for anyone who wanted to get at the Alpha. Even if I was fine with all this, after a lifetime of one-night stands, avoiding emotional attachments, Jeremy might never be comfortable in a relationship.

My impulse was to say: "Put my life at risk for a difficult, long-distance relationship that might never work? It's Jeremy. Sign me up." But I had to approach this with my head, not my heart. It wasn't something I could just leap into.

"We should get you back to the house," Jeremy said finally. "I presume you have a segment to film tomorrow?"

"In the afternoon, plus an interview midmorning."

He helped me to my feet. "When things settle down with your costars, I'd like to watch a segment or two. I'm looking forward to that."

"It's not nearly as much fun as you'd think. It's a lot of standing around doing nothing."

"I'm not here to be entertained, Jaime."

He put his hand on my back and led me from the park.

SPIRITUALIST BIG BROTHER

BACK AT THE HOUSE, I grabbed a cold drink from the kitchen before heading to bed. I was backing away from the fridge when something moved along the far wall. I turned and braced myself, waiting for a ghost to materialize. Another flicker--just a flashlight beam from a guard doing a walk-around outside. As I'd stared at the wall, though, something else caught my eye. Resting above the chair rail was a dark dot, smaller than a dime. I walked over. The dot became a hole, and recessed within the hole was the lens of a camera.

There could be a logical explanation for this. Maybe the family that lived here suspected the cook of spitting in their food. Or they had a dieter with a midnight fridge-raiding habit. But tiny wood shavings still clung to the hole, meaning it'd been drilled recently.

Time to take a tour of the house.

I FOUND four pinhole cameras in the shared rooms where we spiritualists were most likely to congregate. The crew-only areas were surveillance-free.

So we were being taped. By whom? My first thought was the crew. But if someone hoped for an ugly photo he could sell to a tabloid or a compromising video to post on the Internet, he'd be filming in the private areas.

I thought of Todd Simon. Beer-commercial director turned reality-show producer.

Becky said we were all in this house for budget reasons. Entirely plausible, and I was sure she believed that. But someone was hoping for Big Brother-style footage. Was it legal? That depended on our contracts.