Savage Hunger(92)

Warrick had volunteered to be the last one out, making sure everything was pretty much the way they had found it. He’d thought he was alone until Hilliard had appeared behind him.

“This isn’t easy for me, Donovan.” Hilliard shoved his hands into his pockets and sighed, his gaze sliding away to a corner in the building. “I’ve been asked to bring you in to talk to the elders.”

“The elders want to see me?” Jesus. He hadn’t seen this coming. Not so soon anyway. Warrick struggled not to show any reaction, but figured the blood that slowly seeped from his face betrayed him.

“Yeah, the call came in about twenty minutes ago. It’s why I’ve been hanging out waiting for you.” Hilliard sighed again. “Damn, I am so sorry, man.”

“There’s nothing to be sorry about.” Warrick knew he’d made his choices—everyone knew. And now he would face the consequences of them.

“We all knew this was coming,” he added flatly, wanting to ease some of his fellow agent’s discomfort.

Yes, they’d known it was coming, but just not so soon. Then again, he shouldn’t have been surprised. The immediate threat to Sienna and her father had just been carried off in chunks in big black trash bags. And Kevin Peters was safely back in P.I.A. custody, ready to develop the desperately needed cure for the ferals.

“Shit, Donovan, I didn’t think they’d be all over you this fast.” Hilliard reached out and gripped his shoulder. “You’re a damn good agent. I hate that they’re going to force you out.”

They wouldn’t just force him out of the agency, they’d force him out of the community. But he couldn’t bring himself to remind Hilliard of that fact. Or maybe his friend knew and just wasn’t voicing it aloud. Soon enough actions would speak for themselves.

“Pisses me the hell off,” Hilliard continued to mutter. “I personally have no problem whom you mate with, but unfortunately I’m not an elder.”

No, he wasn’t.

“We should go,” Warrick said, pushing aside the heaviness in his chest. “No sense in putting it off.”

Hilliard nodded and they both made their way to the door.

Warrick wouldn’t regret his choices. He’d meant it when he’d told Sienna that she was his future. Whatever punishment the elders passed down on him, he would accept.

The only way he’d abandon Sienna now was if he were dead. And if that’s the punishment the elders wanted to pass down, then they’d better expect one helluva fight from him.





Chapter Twenty

It had been years since he’d been in the elder’s chamber. Any time a new shifter was inducted into the P.I.A., the elders held a private ceremony and bestowed their blessing. Warrick hadn’t been in here since that day and certainly couldn’t have foreseen his return under these circumstances.

He paused outside the room, taking a moment to draw in a slow breath and try to gather his thoughts. Exhaustion coated his entire body like he’d been double-dipped in the stuff.

Every muscle within him ached and his eyelids felt like they needed to be stapled to his forehead to stay up. But his mind was on heightened alert as he braced for what was sure to come.

He knocked on the large solid-oak door of the chamber and waited for it to open. His nerves grew more and more taut with every passing second.

When it finally swung open, a female servant in a black, loose dress and a nonjudging gaze greeted him.

“Mr. Donovan,” she murmured in a smooth, detached voice. “We’ve been expecting you. Please do come in.”

Warrick gave a slight nod and stepped into the chambers.

People who had never been inside imagined all kinds of wealth and luxury. But the elders didn’t glorify their position or crave extravagance. They were simple beings, sage and wise with their years. Elected by the members of the shifter community and held in the highest regard by the tribe.

Their evenings were spent in modest homes, and their days in this old wood building with the high roof, where comfort and convenience were most important. Except for tonight, when it seemed they’d met for a late-night assembly.

Seven elders sat behind a long oak desk, files in front of them and their gazes resting upon him.

“Please have a seat,” a shaky voice of one of the members called from the middle of the table.

Warrick sat down in the high-backed, wood chair in front of the table and forced himself to breathe normally.

“Do you know why you have been summoned here today, Mr. Donovan?” One of the two female elders asked quietly.

Tension commanded his muscles, but Warrick kept his tone even. “Yes, Madam Sovereign, I do.”