“On the other hand, we shouldn’t encounter any issues traveling during the day at the height of summer. When we return, we’ll have to sweep the entire area, and clearing out this nest preemptively would be a solid strategy to ensure we had a clear perimeter before we leave. Wraiths tend to avoid places we’ve ambushed recently; we suspect they can smell or sense the deaths of their kind and believe the place to be unsafe. Therefore this strike would grant us a solid five-mile perimeter that is virtually uninhabitable to them. Plus, we haven’t lost a warrior to the wraiths on the last three strikes we’ve completed.” He swallowed, eyes distant as he calculated. “I would have to conclude that the reward of wiping out this nest before we leave outweighs the risk of losing too many warriors for the journey.” He ended abruptly, fingers tapping on his leg to ease his nerves.
Mikal stared at him gape-mouthed, as if Emory had just spoken the language of the Ancients. “So… we should do it?”
Emory bobbed his tousled head. “Yes, we should do it.”
“Good!” Mikal clapped his hands together. “I’m glad that’s settled. Let’s strike tomorrow at first light. The critters are always slower in the morning. Anything else?” He glanced around the room, his eyes landing on mine and staying there. “Good. Everyone’s dismissed. Kaliya, I’d like to talk with you about something.” He attempted an inviting smile. It was far better than the beastly grins he’d given me before, but I didn’t trust it. Since becoming the alpha he was better at concealing his intentions; I was having a harder time getting a read on him.
“Yes, Alpha.” I stayed in my seat while the rest of the captains and strategists left. Mikal rose and sauntered toward my chair; I’d chosen one as far from him as I could when we entered the room. The sharp, resinous scent of his dominance reached my nose, along with a lighter citrus scent of excitement and a note of sickly sweet desire. He couldn’t hide all of his emotions, it seemed.
At least he was wearing pants this time.
“Kaliya,” he began, his deep voice rough and grating on my nerves, “I can’t help feeling like we’ve gotten off on the wrong foot. I know you’re friends with Warren, but I hope that hasn’t tainted your opinion of me.”
Sure, that’s why I think you’re an alpha asshole, I thought sarcastically. I bit my tongue to avoid saying what I thought and kept my emotions in check. I didn’t want him to scent what I really thought of him.
My wolf was restless; even she disliked this situation. “Not at all, Alpha. I know the rules of the pack.”
“Is there anything you’d like to talk to me about? I can be an excellent listener, given the opportunity. How’s your mother?” He scooted in closer, his hand nearly touching mine on the table. Why was he asking me about my mother?
“Mom’s great, she loves her job in the greenhouses.” I faked a smile, mentally forcing myself to remain calm and not move my arm.
“Okay, I’m glad to hear that,” he said without a trace of genuine feeling in his voice. “Well, I’d like for us to be friends. We’ll be working very closely together for the betterment of the pack, and I just think it’d be better for everyone if we got along. Wouldn’t you agree?” His voice grew lower, suggestive even. As he leaned closer, the trace scent of his arousal grew stronger, and he breathed in deeply, obviously scenting me.
I shuddered involuntarily, and he grinned in response. This dog was so misguided. He thought I was turned on right now?
“Hey, Kaliya!” Emory’s voice was loud and nonchalant. I glanced up to find him leaning through the doorway, an innocent expression on his handsome face. “I have those new lightning swords for you to check out, if now’s a good time?”
Ancients bless him, an escape!
Mikal growled, the sound a low rumble in his chest as his head turned slowly to glare at the intrusion. Emory straightened, swallowing hard and taking a step back. “If it’s not a good time, I could-”
“No, now’s fine, right Alpha?” I asked with excess brightness in my voice. I rose from my chair and shifted away from his stench as it turned bitter with frustration.
His jaw clenched for a moment, then he put on another fake smile. “Yes, we’re done here. Go get your new weapons, you’ll need them tomorrow for the sweep.” He grabbed my arm before I could make my escape, and added in a low voice, “Sleep well, Kaliya.”
When I met his eyes, they glimmered faintly with an indecipherable threat.
“Will do,” I snapped, withdrawing my arm and retreating from the room to the safety of Emory’s presence, waiting in the doorway.
We walked down the hall, and I restrained the desire to grab his hand and lace my fingers through his. I craved his comfort right now; I knew my anxiety over the situation with Mikal was leaking into my scent but I was beyond controlling it at this point. Emory watched me with concern, but otherwise made no other sign that he noticed.
When we reached his office he held the door for me politely, then followed me in and closed it behind us. “I’m sorry, I was trying to come up with an excuse to stay but I had to settle for just interrupting, I wish I could have done it sooner. Are you okay?” He reached a hand up to cup my cheek, and I leaned into his touch, relaxing as his warm, sweet scent filled my senses.
“Yes, I’m okay. He’s trying to get on my good side, I think, but he also said something that makes me think he’s watching me. We need to be more careful, Em. Technically we haven’t done anything wrong, but our situation is definitely frowned upon. If something happened to you…” I couldn’t finish the sentence, my worried eyes drifting to his.
“I’m fine, Kali. We’ll be more careful. But what did he say?”
“He asked about my mom, then told me to sleep well. I know it seems innocuous enough, but it was more about the way he said it… it felt like a threat.”
“Hmm.” Emory got that thoughtful expression again, as the calculated the possible implications of Mikal’s words. Suddenly, he snapped out of it. “Well, our cover story is you’re here about the new swords, so let’s take care of that, shall we? May I have your old swords?”
I pulled the weapons from my sides and flipped them around, presenting them handle-first to Emory. He accepted the battered blades then set them aside on a counter, before grabbing a leather-wrapped bundle nearby. When he unwrapped the new weapons, my breath caught in my throat. “Emory… they’re beautiful!”
My old lightning swords were plain, no-nonsense blades infused with our signature weapon against the wraiths: an internal power source that caused them to jump and crackle with energy, like lightning.
These new swords were works of art: From the beautifully wrought hilts to the peaked and wickedly pointed blades, these weapons were the finest work I’d ever seen. I grabbed the hilts, testing the balance and weight, flipping and spinning the swords in my hands. Emory clearly made them specifically for me; they felt like an extension of my arms, part of my body, forming a seamless piece of weaponry. When I hit the igniter buttons, they crackled to life with energy. Except instead of the signature blue lightening I was used to, these burned with a reddish glow. They were absolutely astounding, and I knew who I had to thank for their unique beauty.