Curran commanded over five hundred shapechangers. Half a thousand souls stuck on the crossroads between beast and man, each a spree-killer waiting to happen. Wolves, hyenas, rats, cats, bears, they were united only by two things: the desire to stay human, and loyalty to the Pack. And Curran was the Pack. They worshipped the ground he walked on.
“So that’s the secret,” the Beast Lord said.
I froze with the spoon halfway to my mouth. That was it. He had figured out what I was and now he was playing with me.
“You okay?” he asked. “Gone a bit pale there.”
In a moment he would drop the charade and rip me to pieces. If I was lucky. “Secret to what?”
“Secret to shutting you up,” he said. “I just have to beat you till you’re half-dead, then give you chicken soup and”—he raised his hands—“blessed silence.”
I went back to the soup. Ha-ha. Very funny.
“What did you think I meant?”
“I don’t know,” I mumbled. “The ways of the Beast Lord are a mystery to a humble merc like me.”
“You don’t do humble.”
At least he still treated me as if I were on my feet, ready to defend myself, instead of being trapped in a bed, eating chicken soup. Speaking of soup…I set the bowl aside and looked longingly at the tray. I wanted more. The medmagic made the body burn through nutrients at an accelerated rate, and I was starving.
Curran took a bowl from the platter and offered it to me. I reached for it. His fingers touched mine and lingered. I looked into his eyes and saw tiny gold sparks dancing in the gray. His lips parted, allowing for a narrow flash of his teeth.
I grabbed my bowl and scooted away from him. The hint of a smile curved the corners of his mouth. He found me amusing. That wasn’t exactly the reaction I was looking for as the Order’s rep.
“Why did you save me?”
He shrugged. “I picked up the phone and there was a hysterical child on the other end, crying that you were dying, and she was all alone, and the undead were coming. I thought it might be an interesting conclusion to a boring evening.”
Bullshit. He came because of Julie. Shapeshifters suffered from devastating child mortality, with half their children being born dead and another quarter being killed because they went loup at puberty. Like all shapeshifters, Curran cherished children and he also hated vampires. He probably figured he would kill two birds with one stone: save Julie and stick it to the People.
I frowned. “How did Julie know to call here?”
“Hit a redial button from what I understand. Smart kid. You’re going to tell me what you’ve blundered into.”
It wasn’t a question, but I determined to take it as such. “No.”
“No?”
“No.”
He crossed his arms on his chest, making his carved biceps bulge. I vividly remembered those steel-hard biceps flexing as he hoisted me up off the floor by my throat.
“You know what I like about you? You have no sense. You sit here in my house, you can barely hold a spoon, and you’re telling me ‘no.’ You’d pull on Death’s whiskers if you could reach them.”
Actually, Death wasn’t that far out of reach. If I stretched my leg, I could kick him.
“I’ll ask one more time, what were you doing?”
It was a pointless battle. Julie didn’t stand a chance against Derek. She would tell him everything she knew, which he would then relay to Curran. But I would be damned if I’d let Curran intimidate me into caving in.
“I see. I retrieve the surveys the Pack let slip through its fingers, and in return you bring me here against my will, interrogate me, and threaten me with bodily harm. I’m sure the Order will be amused to learn the Pack kidnapped its representative.”
Curran nodded thoughtfully. “Aha. Who’s going to tell them?”
Um…Good question. He could kill me and nobody would ever find my body. The Order wouldn’t even investigate that hard; they might just chalk it up to the flare-related craziness.
“I guess I’ll just have to kick your ass and break out of here.” I bravely drank the rest of the soup from the bowl, abandoning all propriety. Probably shouldn’t have said that.
“In your dreams.”
“We’ve never had our rematch. I might win.” Probably shouldn’t have said that, either. “Bathroom?”
Curran pointed to the two doors on his left.
I untangled myself from the sheets. I really had to go to the bathroom. The question was: would my legs support me?
Curran smiled.
“What’s so funny?”
“Your panties have a bow,” he said.
I looked down. I was wearing a short tank top—not mine—and my blue panties with a narrow white strip of lace at the top and a tiny white bow. Would it have killed me to check what I was wearing before I pulled the blanket down? “What’s wrong with bows?”