Moira Rogers - Crossroads

He slid out of the car without waiting for someone to open the door for him and reached back a hand to Nick. “This is surreal.”

Most of Nick’s attention as she climbed out of the car was focused on a group of men standing near the mansion. “More or less so because you’re about to be dueling in the backyard?”

“At least it’s not pistols,” he murmured. Several of the men watched them closely. “That’s the Southeast council, I take it?”

“Part of it,” she whispered, turning away from the group. “The Mendoza brothers and a few of their supporters. Cesar, the oldest, has been looking for a way to oust Coleman for years.”

Derek couldn’t look away. Something feral rose in the face of such blatant appraisal, a feeling he’d choked back dozens of times. A wild hunger, one that demanded blood and violence.

For the first time, he let the magic come. His skin tingled, and power settled around him with an almost tangible click . He felt the difference as he met the gaze of the tallest man and let the new awareness fill his eyes.

Nick stepped closer to his side, her touch soothing on his arm. “Cesar challenged Coleman about five years ago and got his ass handed to him.”

He held the man’s gaze for another few heartbeats before Cesar looked away, a grudging surrender accompanied by a sneer of disdain.

Derek had seen that look enough times. “Looks like my total lack of reputation precedes me.”

She pulled him toward the wide front doors of the house. “It doesn’t matter. They’ll know your name after today.”

They knew his name already, and he’d bet his business on it. “They’re not sneering at me because they don’t know who I am, Nicky. They’re sneering at me because they know exactly who and what I am.”

For a moment she looked almost shocked, as if he’d reminded her of something she’d forgotten, and her eyes hardened. “Then they won’t sneer for long.” Her thumb rubbed over the back of his hand. “I’m proud of you for doing this, Derek. For standing up to this sort of thing.”

As if he was doing it to make a stand. Derek lifted her hand and kissed it, enjoying the shocked murmurs from behind them. “I’m not looking to become the poster boy for the disenfranchised, baby. I just don’t give a shit anymore, as long as I’ve got you.”

The foyer was lined with more people standing along the walls. Among them was Nick’s father. “They’re waiting in the conference room.” He stepped forward and lowered his voice. “Are you ready?”

Derek wasn’t sure which of them the question was meant for, but he answered it with all the courage he could muster. “Absolutely.”

“Let’s go.”

Nick didn’t release his hand as the crowd parted for them, though the murmurs and questions grew so loud he could easily make out the astonished words. She held her head high, her cheeks red with what he knew had to be anger rather than embarrassment, and gripped his hand tighter.

The conference room turned out to be a large, open area with glass walls and ceiling, built more like a greenhouse or solarium than a boardroom. Instead of sitting around a table, the three remaining members of the Conclave waited in the middle of the room.

One man wore a sling on one arm. Hoffman, Derek thought, and that meant the darker man pacing the stone floor was Ochoa. Enrica Maglieri had a cell phone to one ear and a frown on her face. Trying to call Luciano, probably, and Derek knew how useless that would be. Yesterday morning, Luciano and Michelle had used the chaos of the impending challenge to apply for their marriage license. By now they’d be in front of an official. By the time the challenge was over… Please let me be alive to buy them a stand mixer.

The dark man stopped and frowned a little in Derek’s direction. “You’re late, Peyton.”

“Everyone is,” Enrica interjected. “Did Luciano come with you?”

John shook his head. “Luciano agreed that Michelle didn’t need to be alone during this trying time, so he stayed behind with her.”

Enrica’s expression tightened. “I see.”

I just bet you do. It was better not to give her too much time to think about it. If the Conclave had time to consider Michelle unsupervised in New York City or, worse, supervised only by Enrica’s son, they might be distracted. That could spell disaster for Luciano and Michelle.

He knew one way to make sure everyone’s undivided attention stayed fixed on the upcoming challenge. Releasing Nick’s hand, he stepped forward, angling his body slightly in front of hers. “I’m here to challenge Noah Coleman on behalf of the Peyton family.”

Hoffman laughed, the sound disdainful enough to spike Derek’s temper, but a vicious snarl from Nick’s father silenced the mockery.

A look of disbelief and then anger spread across Ochoa’s features. “It’s not allowed, Peyton. You can’t just bring someone in off the street because your daughter isn’t strong enough to win a challenge.”

Alec had told him what to say, but he wasn’t prepared for the swell of possessive satisfaction that came with speaking the words. “The right of challenge is mine as Nicole Peyton’s mate.”

No one laughed at that. The dark-haired man’s scowl melted into openmouthed shock, his expression mirroring the others.

John Peyton sighed. “I’m tired of pushing Nicole away by trying to make her life conform to what I want. She’s chosen her own path, her own mate…and I believe she’s chosen well.”

Total silence.

Derek had the insane urge to laugh at the display of flustered consternation. He didn’t know what had shocked them more—the idea that Nicole had chosen him over one of their precious sons, or the fact that her father seemed to approve.

The seconds ticked by, and the silence became uncomfortable. Derek cleared his throat and repeated his challenge in a quiet, sure voice. “I’m here to challenge Noah Coleman on behalf of the Peyton family.”

Enrica finally spoke. “We recognize your challenge. Whether Noah will fight is up to him.”

They’d warned Derek of as much. He knew Nick was secretly hoping Noah Coleman would refuse the fight and cement his own disgrace. It was the only way of avoiding bloodshed, but Alec had assured him during his last phone call that it was a long shot at best. Refusing to fight would be seen as a sign of weakness. A sign of fear.

A man like Noah Coleman couldn’t let anyone think he was afraid of a wolf two years made. Pride would drive him to fight. Desperation would force him to fight hard.

It was too late to back down, even if Derek wanted to. “I understand.”

“Conrad.” She turned her head to the sandy-haired man. “Bring him out to hear his challenge.”

No one moved. For a few seconds it seemed like no one breathed . Then the blond nodded sharply. As he strode from the room the other man spoke up, though his gaze stayed on Nick’s father, as if Derek was beneath his notice. “Does he understand what he’s doing?”

“He’s standing right here,” Nick said tightly. “Why don’t you ask him, Ochoa?”

Cold black eyes fixed on Derek’s face. “You’re challenging the leader of the Southeast council. In the event of your victory, you’ll take your place as a member of that council…until someone challenges you for your place. And, believe me, the challenges will come. Daily.”

Derek grinned at him, a deliberate baring of teeth that was just short of a challenge on its own, and said the kind of infuriating thing he imagined Alec might say in his place. “Yep, might have heard something of the sort.”

Ochoa snorted and cut a glance at John. “This one’s been spending too much time with Jacobson’s kid.”