“After the courtship ends,” she realized. “How’s that going?”
The beast knows its mate and has claimed her. The man is a few steps behind but catching up fast. It’s done, and it can’t be undone. She might not feel the same, and if she leaves…I’ll never mate again. It’s as simple as that.
“It’s going,” he said to throw her off the scent. “What brought you upstairs?”
“We got word there’s another party happening tonight somewhere in Buckhead. No specifics this time. I milked our contacts, but that’s all they’ve got. Though it won’t be hard to narrow the search area once the drugs start flowing.”
“Any updates on the teens?”
“Abbott has them stabilized, but he says he needs a sample of unaltered roach saliva for any hope of an antidote. The magic used to create the compound has corrupted it too far.”
“We have to hunt.” That’s what she meant. “Do we have any leads on potential Martian Roaches?”
“Nope.” She busied herself in the kitchen while he changed. “They up and vanished.” She lowered her voice. “Probably after they heard themselves being referred to as Martian Roaches.”
Midas cut her a sharp look that warned her to leave Hadley’s unique naming conventions alone.
“Personally,” she said, ignoring him, “I would have gone with one of the classics. Nasties works just fine for me. Big nasty as the singular.”
“Hadley loves the classics, hence the name Martian Roach.”
“Hadley is a flaming geek, hence the name Martian Roach.”
Midas chuckled, unable to deny it. “We’ll hit the party tonight, see what we can learn.”
The sellers wouldn’t disclose the product’s origin to buyers, not only to avoid competition should anyone decide to create their own supply, but to prevent the instinctive recoil that came from learning where this newest high originated.
Hardcore users wouldn’t care, but it was hard to dress up roach spit for the high-end clientele.
“All right.” Ares followed him into the hall and then the elevator. “Do you remember things getting this screwy while Linus was holding the reins?”
A warning growl tickled the back of his throat. “What are you implying?”
“Just making conversation.”
“The coven isn’t Hadley’s fault.”
“I’m not saying it is.” She drummed her fingers on the rail behind her. “The timing concerns me, is all.”
“I haven’t eaten breakfast yet.” The drink Hadley made him was pure sugar, and it didn’t count as far as his carnivorous other half was concerned. “Get to the point.”
“Predators can sense a power vacuum waiting to open, and they’re happy to fill it.”
A shock jolted his system. “You think she can’t handle the role?”
“I like Hadley. I do.” She exhaled. “But she’s dragging the pack deeper and deeper into her troubles, and that can be viewed as a sign of weakness. We were never called upon to aid the previous potentates, but we’re at her beck and call. Any outsiders who pick up on that might consider her easy prey.”
“She’s not.” As much as his protective instincts screamed at him to keep her safe, she was a predator, the same as him. “Anyone who tries her will learn it too.”
“What about anyone who attempts to get to her through you or the pack?”
“Where is this coming from?” He mashed the button to stop the elevator between floors. “What’s wrong?”
“Liz is pregnant.” Her hand clenched on the bar behind her. “We’ve been trying for years with donors from her species and mine, and now it’s happened at the absolute worst time.”
“The alpha’s duty is to put their pack before themselves and their own happiness.”
“God.” She ducked her head. “I didn’t mean…”
“You want me to give up Hadley.”
“I don’t want Liz to get hurt in the war that’s brewing. I don’t want to lose this baby either.” A tear rolled down her cheek. “It would kill Liz. She’s five months in, just starting to show. How can I ask her to risk it?”
“I never wanted to be beta. I always thought Lethe would lead the pack when Mom stepped down.” Midas straightened from his lean and hit the button. “I’ve never wanted this, and now I can’t escape it.” He exited the second the booth hit the lobby. “Don’t ask me to give up the one thing I’ve chosen for myself.”
Hadley, still in her pajamas, waited to get on with her arms loaded down with boxes. She must have been called downstairs for a delivery after he left.
“What is all that?” He noticed the label as he reached for the topmost boxes. “Inventory?”
“I got it.” She sidestepped him, ignoring Ares, and got in the elevator. “Later.”
“Aww hell,” she mumbled. “I didn’t mean for her to overhear that.”
Midas didn’t comfort her. He was too riled, his feral half too alert to a potential threat to his mate. Instead he led the way to brief the enforcers for the night, unsure how to smooth things over with Hadley and wishing he had time to call his sister. Just to hear her voice and remind himself she was okay, that she had survived. For the first time, it felt like maybe they both had.
Ten
“Don’t ask me to give up the one thing I’ve chosen for myself.”
That choice soundbite, paired with Midas decking Ford at the cabin, left me with few illusions Midas was taking our courtship seriously. As in, he was picturing a life with me. As in, he wanted that big M word at the end of it. As in, he wanted me to…
As in, he wanted me.
Me.
What was he thinking? Had he met me? I was a hot mess. Steaming hot. Flaming hot. Solar flare hot.
The packmates I met at the den had been kind to me, and I was now madly in love with Samzilla, but the first glimpse they got of me wasn’t the same version as what Ares and the other enforcers at the Faraday saw. They had fought alongside me, patched me up, and witnessed the troubles that came with my position. They had the clearest perspective outside my team of what I brought to Atlanta, and what I cost it too.
That Ares, who I had considered a friend, provoked Midas into making that comment hurt.
A lot.
No conversation leading up to that declaration could be a good one.
The unexpected delivery had put me in the wrong place at the wrong time, and now my head wasn’t where it ought to be prior to infiltrating a club full of dealers ready to poison the city for a few extra bucks. I had to shut down this self-doubt before it got me—and Midas—killed.
“This is going to be one of those nights.” I let myself into my apartment and set the boxes in the entryway. “I can feel it.”
Ambrose, who didn’t care one whit about the Peachy Keen color of the month, circled the boxes.
“What’s got your tail in a twist?” I watched him spin faster and faster. “They’re just sheets.”
Had I not been grinding my teeth so loudly, I might have heard the subtle tick, tick, tick.