Kelly Meade - Black Rook

“Forget it. You were worried about your father.”

She ducked her head and a curtain of black hair fell across her face. She looked down at her wringing hands—he was tempted to tie them behind her back to make her stop—studying that ring as though it held some incredible secret. Her attention to the ring finally dinged his Suspicion Meter. She hadn’t stopped messing with it since she stepped into the office.

“That’s very beautiful,” Rook said, pointing at the ring. “It looks old.”

Brynn looked up and couldn’t completely hide a brief flash of concern—which made him even more suspicious. “It’s an heirloom.”

“I’m trying to learn more about old jewelry to better assist my father in the business.” Not a total lie, since he was learning more about antiques. He and his brothers would inherit the auction house one day, and its day-to-day running. Only his studying usually ran to tools and farming equipment, not jewelry. “May I see it?”

“I’d rather not, if you don’t mind.”

Rook inhaled deeply and caught the sour tang of fear again. Like the necklace, she was using that ring for something, and she knew she’d been caught. He shuffled half a step closer. “I’m not going to steal it or drop it, I promise.”

“I wasn’t implying that you would.” She looked so adorably offended by his comment that Rook grinned.

“No?”

“No.”

Silence.

Okay, so flirting wasn’t accomplishing his goal, either. “I just want to look at it more closely. The setting seems exquisite.” As if he knew crap about ring settings.

Brynn came a bit closer. She balled her hand into a fist and held it up, putting the ring close to Rook’s nose. He supported her fist on the palm of his hand and the heat of that simple contact flashed down his arm to his chest. A warmth settled there, foreign and strange and still somehow exciting. He couldn’t explain it.

Ignoring the bizarre reaction to her touch, he concentrated on studying the blue gem. It was almost a perfect sphere, in an intricately designed gold setting that extended down the sides of the band. “It’s very pretty.” Not the best adjective ever, especially when he was pretending to know something about jewelry. “I’ve never seen a gemstone quite like it. It isn’t a sapphire.”

“No, it isn’t.”

He winked and flashed a coy smile. “Secret Magus stone?”

“Something like that.”

“I see.” Nothing else seemed off about the ring. He didn’t know if surveillance equipment that small existed, and even if it did, he saw no advantage to getting an inside look at a public auction house. Sending in a human with a video camera in their purse was a lot easier. He sniffed at the stone without being obvious, and a faint sting of something medicinal hit his nose—not a scent he usually associated with jewelry.

She tensed. Rook clasped her hand tighter before she could withdraw it, which sent another tremor of heat down his arm. How could touching someone make him feel like that? So awake and aware, his heart pounding faster? And a Magus?

Rook mentally shook it off. He met her wide gaze over the blue glimmer of the ring, working to keep his voice steady. “I’m surprised you’d wear such a valuable heirloom here.”

“I always wear it.”

Lie. He saw it in the way her eyes flickered off to the side, the way her nostrils flared. She wasn’t a very good liar, especially under scrutiny, and if he’d had any lingering doubts about her claim of being here on her own, they were gone. As low as his opinion of the Magi was, he didn’t think they were stupid enough to send her to do their dirty work.

He did, however, wonder if they were stupid enough to not realize what she was. Otherwise, they’d have warned her long ago about going into a sanctuary town unprotected.

“If you were really just here to confront me about your vision,” he said, “why the ruse? Why the necklace and sneaking around downstairs? Why not just ask to speak with me?”

She swallowed hard, blinked rapidly. The sight of her cornered like that unnerved him. He wanted to let go of her hand, but didn’t dare. He wanted to pull her into his arms and comfort her, but he really didn’t dare. He was treading very new ground here. His father trusted him to get information out of her, not to feel her up. His father, who could see them both from his spot on the dais.

The dichotomy of his feelings for Brynn amped up his frustration with this entire scenario. Loup garou beasts often instinctively recognized another loup as a potential mate, but it was still up to their two-legged skin side to explore that relationship. Rook had never felt that pull toward another loup, and he’d be damned if he’d entertain the idea of it happening now with a deceptive Magus. Loup garou blood or not.

“I was afraid of you,” she said, her voice fractured. “All I saw was you covered in my father’s blood. Even if you aren’t his killer, you’re there when he dies. You’re still loup. You’re an enemy to my people.”

She had no idea who her people were. He used his left hand to point at the blue gem. “What does this do?” He tapped it with his finger, half-expecting an electric shock. The gem shifted in its setting, and Brynn yelped. She yanked against his grip, but Rook just held her fist tighter.

“Please let go,” she said.

“What just happened?”

“Let go.” Her voice rose to one level below shouting, and if she got any louder they’d be heard on the auction floor.

Rook loosened his grip just as she gave another tug, which sent her stumbling backward. He grabbed her right hand, which she clasped in return, and his counterweight kept her from going over onto her ass. Balance restored, she tore her hand out of his as if he’d burned her. She gaped at his hand with wide-eyed horror, then down at her own.

“Oh no,” she gasped. “Oh, dear Avesta, no.”

Alarm raised the hairs on the back of Rook’s neck. He studied the palm of his hand, but saw nothing unusual. Not even a scratch. Then the antiseptic smell he’d noticed on the ring stung his nose, and he almost sneezed. He raised his hand and sniffed. The scent was stronger there, like something had rubbed off on his skin.

The realization that something had rubbed off on him sent his stomach to the floor. He lifted his head, anxiety and anger colliding together with Brynn’s look of utter dread.

“I’m sorry,” Brynn said.

“For what?” Rook’s voice dropped to a deep growl that harmonized with his simmering temper. “What the hell did you just do to me?”

Knight McQueen took most aspects of his life in Cornerstone extremely seriously. He treated his status as the run’s White Wolf with respect, making himself available to any loup who needed his help, especially when their quarterly came up. He counseled teenage loup who were coming into themselves mentally, physically, and sexually. He also did his damndest to reflect the honesty and fairness of his Alpha father every single day. He was responsible for ensuring that the six hundred loup in town remained emotionally stable so violence didn’t break out.

The only part of his life in Cornerstone that he took a little less seriously was the part he played in McQueen’s Auction House. Like both of his brothers, Knight had worked at the auction house in some capacity since he was a child. But as he hit puberty and shifted from awkwardly cute to drop-dead gorgeous—a description he occasionally overheard, but would never, ever repeat out loud—his role shifted as well. First teenage girls, and then young women, from various counties began stalking the auction with their fathers, grandfathers, and uncles. And once Father realized they hung around for hours just to watch Knight and drop their money at the concession counter, Knight inherited a new job at McQueen’s.