Moira Rogers: Zola's Pride

Every one but the last, and that stood between them, a wall she couldn’t knock down. It wasn’t her place to touch his cheek or his hair, to give him that gift, that knowledge of belonging. All she could do was coax him to finish the story, though she could guess the end. “They targeted her because she was a Seer?”

“They call themselves the Scions of Ma’at,” he answered. “They’re mercenaries who work in basic pair groups—a shifter and a spell caster. They train together, live together, you name it. Each pair is considered one entity. One fighter. They’re all about balance and order, and Tatienne’s nature offended that.”

The name tugged at a memory, but it slipped away before she could grasp it. “But they’ve killed her. They’ve killed so many. Why are they still hunting you?”

“Because they haven’t settled the score yet. We—” Walker rose and paced to the other side of the room. “We killed even more of them.”

“And they seek vengeance?”

“An eye for an eye,” he muttered grimly. “That’s their idea of balance. Of justice. Maybe they’re not wrong in theory, but the people I brought over had nothing to do with what happened.”

And only six yet lived. “How many lives do they demand?”

He turned and met her gaze. “All of them. All of us.”

Her lips parted to give voice to the protest growing inside her, one borne of instinct and ancient feelings, not logic. Years might have passed, but she remembered what it was like to feel the familiar press of his power and know he was hers.

She shielded herself with logic. “Surely they’ll be cautious about chasing you into this country. The wolves’ Conclave might not always be efficient, but they can be ruthless against outsiders.”

“I’d hoped as much.” he admitted, “but I can’t rely on the Scions’ willingness to shy away from pissing off the wolves. For all I know, they don’t give a damn.”

There was one way to find out, and it was probably the reason he’d come to her in the first place. “You want me to call Alec Jacobson.”

“I hear he’s the one in charge around here.”

“He’s the one in charge of the wolves.” A distinction Alec didn’t always understand, but one she had no intention of letting anyone forget.

Walker scratched the back of his head in a familiar gesture. “Then he’s in charge, Zola. The wolves run the States, or have you forgotten?”

He’d been gone a long time, long enough that he might not know how petty the leaders of the wolves had become. “The Conclave might unite against an outside enemy, but they’re weakened. Not what they were. As long as I don’t confront them, they do not try to rule me.”

He shrugged. “Then I’ll leave it up to you. All I care about is getting the ball rolling. I need to make sure my people are safe.”

“I’ll call Alec Jacobson.” A concession, but not as big as the one she was about to make. “You should stay here tonight.”

Walker tilted his head to one side. “You don’t have to do that, Zola. I know it isn’t—I have a place to go. I’ll be fine.”

She wouldn’t be. She couldn’t close her eyes to sleep, knowing he roamed the city and might disappear before she’d pried the truth from him. Before he’d given her the closure she deserved, the final balm to the heart he’d broken so long ago. “Stay. We have things to discuss. You owe me this, in exchange for my help.”

Some of the tension faded from his stance. “Are you sure?”

Zola couldn’t help but smile. “Sure that you owe me? Yes.”

“Sure that you really want me to stay.”

Yes. “You’re sleeping on the couch.”

A slow smile curved his lips. “I expected nothing less.”

The smile spoke of wicked confidence and lingering heat, evoking a strong enough reaction to drive her from the couch in search of her phone. Calling Alec would give her time to catch her breath, to find her balance. Perhaps time to fool herself into believing that she’d invited Walker to stay in search of closure when the truth seemed so much more damning.

Her rebellious heart wasn’t trying to close the chapter of her life dominated by Walker Gravois. It was trying to start a new one.

Walker sat behind the dojo’s small front desk and fielded another inquiry about class schedules and rates. The phone had been ringing nonstop all morning, making it clear just how successful a business Zola had built for herself.

But she needed help. There was a whole level between the ground studio and her apartment on the third floor, a single cavernous room where clients worked out or sparred between private lessons. Right now, it sat empty. Someone could be up there teaching a second class. And if she had someone working the desk—

Knock it off, Gravois, he told himself firmly. It’s her business, not yours.

A particularly enthusiastic kiai drew his attention back to the floor, where Zola ran herd over a dozen supernatural children. Most knelt in a ragged circle, fidgeting with the abundant energy of youth, while one tiny wolf with bouncing pigtails barreled through taikyoku shodan so fast it looked like a blur instead of a kata.

Separate classes for humans and supernaturals, another thing that had to complicate her scheduling. She definitely needed help, and he had to remember that he was the last person who should offer it.

Zola murmured encouragement to the girl as she corrected the position of her arms, then watched her execute a few vigorous punches. “Better,” Zola said, raising her voice. Her gaze caught Walker’s across the room, and she smiled a little. “Up, all of you. Along the far wall.”

One or two of the children groaned, but they still formed a staggered line against the mirrors. Zola moved to stand beside the desk and nodded. “Sprints. Thirty. Boys, then girls, then boys, then girls. Go!”

The seven boys took off toward the far wall, the shapeshifters outdistancing the one child who sparked with magic instead of feral power. Zola turned her back on the spectacle and switched to French. “I cancelled my afternoon classes. When the little ones are gone, we’ll be able to concentrate.”

“It’s a nice place, Zola.”

Pride shone in her eyes. “Yes. My place. My home.”

And he’d stumbled back into it. Guilt raked at him, and he had to force a smile. What if her involvement went beyond allowing him to use her contacts? If he’d brought his fight to her...

He’d never survive if his mistakes hurt her.

She read his turmoil in the fake smile. “I wasn’t helpless, even as a girl. Whatever comes, I’ll handle it.”

He should have known he wouldn’t be able to fool her. “You shouldn’t have to. That part’s on me.”

One dark eyebrow swept upwards. “You think I need your protection?”

Careful, Walker. “I think it’s my responsibility if I bring my trouble to you.”

“Only if you’re better at handling that trouble than I am.” She smiled in teasing challenge as the doorbell jingled, announcing the arrival of the first of the parents returning to retrieve their children. “Perhaps we’ll see later.”

Definitely a challenge. “You looking to fight me?”

“Just a friendly sparring. I’m sure we’ve both learned new tricks since the last time.”

So many layers of meaning, even if Walker was fairly certain she’d meant the words innocently. “Can’t wait,” he murmured, lowering his gaze so she wouldn’t see the awareness there.

Zola slipped away to resume watch over her charges, running them back and forth as more parents and guardians arrived, until the front of the dojo was crowded. More than one of the wolves cast curious glances his way, but no one approached him, not even when Zola sent the last of her students stampeding toward the exit.