Change of Heart (The Potentate of Atlanta Book 3) Page 26

  “Sip from the rest.” I pushed as much power as I could spare into the command. “Help us take them down.”

  The soul of cooperation, Ambrose ricocheted off me and shot across the field to ping-pong off the five remaining creatures.

  “I’m a lover,” Remy said from behind me, “not a fighter.”

  “You tried to mow down Midas,” I reminded her. “You’ve got killer instinct to spare.”

  “That was One.” She pointed to another Remy, one of three I counted in the area. “I’m Five.”

  “Do me a favor then.” I aimed her toward the ambulance. “Get them out of here.”

  “That I can do.”

  With her commandeering the ambulance, we had removed the innocents from the field.

  Dividing my attention between Ambrose, who used his earlier hit of power to defy me and take more, more, more, and the battle raging ahead, I spotted my opening and took it. A gap split the line where the lions and gwyllgi met, their fighting styles too different to mesh seamlessly, and I filled it.

  One of the beasts wasted no time homing in on me. Its torso was male, but its tail was snakelike, and a cobra’s fan flared around its humanesque head. Its skin was all mottled shades of green, and its blood ran black and sizzled where it hit dirt and grass.

  “She lives,” he hissed between fangs the thickness of my thumb. “Take her.”

  The remaining four shifted their focus from mowing down the defensive line to capturing me.

  Midas fought his way to my side, and I wished I could run my fingers through his fur to reassure myself he was okay, but I couldn’t afford to distract him. Or myself. It would suck to die because I paused to give my boyfriend belly rubs. That’s the kind of end you never live down, not that I would be alive to enjoy my notoriety.

  A lion with silver in his mane shot in front of me, raking his claws across the snake’s belly. The plating on its abdomen kept it from being a kill shot, but the snake man hissed and bowed over, and I took off its head with a clean slice.

  “Coming through.” Bishop punched his fist through the snake man’s chest and ripped out a heart with no finesse whatsoever. “Back in five.”

  There was no time to gawk or protest the sudden violence. Gratitude he had spared me the task warred with fear it wouldn’t count if I hadn’t done the deed myself. We had no way of knowing what Natisha wanted from me, and I fretted that ignorance would cost us down the line.

  The rest of the coven expressed no grief stepping over their fallen comrade to reach me. The pack—and the pride, I guess?—kept the worst of it from me, but it was close. At times I proved how worthless I could be, unable to swing my sword without fear of injuring an ally. Trusting the pack and these strangers to protect me played on all my old insecurities.

  I hadn’t been enough for my family. How could I be enough for a pack? For my friends? For a city?

  There was no choice. I had to be.

  A nightmare with six arms fell to the pride, but it took every one of them to finish it.

  The pack brought down another, but three gwyllgi had been thrown keeping it off me, and they weren’t moving.

  Ambrose was slowing the beasts down, but they were too much even for him. I was expending the magic as fast as he harvested it to boost my healing abilities and increase my strength.

  A piercing howl rose behind us, but I couldn’t turn to check. A half goat, half man with bizarre spines similar to a porcupine had stepped into the breach. A woman with silky midnight-blue hair and bright-red skin joined him. Her eyes were trailing comets, and her sensuous voice…

  On the ground.

  Flat on my back.

  Sky overhead.

  How did I get here? Why are my ears ringing? Surely even I can’t get blown up twice in one night.

  Blinking back to myself, I found Midas on all fours standing over me, a rumble constant in his chest.

  When had that happened? When had any of it happened?

  Wargs by the dozens yipped, dove, and lunged at the two coven members who had cornered me.

  “She’s awake.” Bishop hooked his hands under my arms and hauled me to my feet. “Hey, kid. You had us worried there for a second.”

  The questions frothing in my head refused to bubble out of my mouth. “What…?”

  “A siren.” He checked a rising goose egg on my noggin then nodded, satisfied. “An old one.”

  Age matured into power, which explained why she had so thoroughly rung my bell.

  “I have the worst headache.” I clutched my head, but it didn’t help. “Goddess, that was brutal.”

  “They must have been holding her in reserve.” Bishop kept me steady. “She whammied you real good, then she fell back. Thank the old gods her range is limited.”

  Whammy was definitely the right word. “The wargs?”

  “The Clairmonts and the Loups.” He smiled out at the carnage. “They came back as soon as their alphas managed the shift.”

  “Oh.” I had no memory of them leaving in the first place. “That’s good.”

  “Hold still.” Bishop placed cool hands on my temples, magic seeped into my skin, and he gave me the worst brain freeze known to man. “Better?”

  “Ow, ow, ow.” I swatted him away. “No, that’s not better.” I glared at him, noticed my vision was singular instead of plural, and laughed. “Hey.” I straightened. “That is better.”

  “Gotta go.” He turned me loose. “The wargs are about to bring down that naga.”

  Until he mentioned it, I hadn’t noticed the blood and gore caking his hands, or that it had transferred to me. Elbows, wrists, and hands. Crimson smeared them. I imagined my face looked much the same, my temples anyway. The smells and itch as it dried turned my stomach.

  And speaking of my stomach, Ambrose was too glutted to care what happened next. He had gotten drunk on power. Again. He lounged on a tree limb, watching the show, too bloated to give me any trouble. Or help. It was a trade I was willing to make.

  I scooped my swords off the ground where Bishop had tossed them in favor of catching me and joined the gwyllgi front line again. This time, they let me work for them, luring the coven then dogpiling them.

  Bishop drifted in and out, not fighting, but plucking hearts after fatal blows fell.

  The Remys ran interference for the most part, but I caught them hauling out wounded too.

  The final coven member standing wasn’t nearly as terrible as the others had been. It was a simple manticore. Simple but effective to have lasted this long.

  With the others down, and four packs converging on one witchborn fae, it stood no chance. They killed it, ripped it apart in seconds, and Bishop shook his head when the heart came out too damaged to salvage.

  Given there were things, not many but enough, that could regenerate a heart, I made the rounds and decapitated the dead. Their bodies would be burned and their ashes scattered to be certain they weren’t coming back.

  But the coven we fought today had wanted to bring me back with them. Their leader was waiting for me to be hand delivered like a gift. That meant there were more witchborn fae in my city that needed weeding out before we could pat ourselves on the back.

  Midas shifted then collapsed in a heap beside me. “How did we do?”

  “Five hearts,” Bishop answered him from behind me. “Not bad for a day’s work.”

  “Those are all from this?” I did the math in my head. “That gives us six total.”

  One heart more, and we could call our deal with Natisha done.

  Assuming she accepted those Bishop had gathered on my behalf.

  “Do you think Natisha will count them?”

  I cringed from my own voice. I hadn’t meant to ask out loud. I hadn’t meant to lessen Bishop’s service.

  “I got to thinking about that,” Bishop mused, and he sat on my other side. “We won’t know for sure until she comes to collect, but I’ve got a feeling it doesn’t matter who removes the heart.”

  “How do yo
u figure?”

  “Natisha has come across witchborn fae, or she wouldn’t have known to covet their hearts. That tells me she’s aware of how they operate and how powerful they can become in large numbers.” He grimaced. “She knew no one faction could take on a whole coven and survive, let alone win.” He shook his head. “Their magic lets them call up all manner of creatures. They’re too diverse, able to turn on a dime.” He shrugged. “Shifters have one form, and no witch could cast a transformation spell at their speed. Even if they could, they don’t become the creature their glamour mimics. They might look like an ogre, but they wouldn’t have its strength, its bad breath, its body odor… You get where I’m going with this.”

  “Yeah.” The coven didn’t imitate their marks, they embodied them.

  “Factions don’t work together,” he continued. “They don’t cooperate. Not on this scale.”

  “Hadley is a wild card,” Midas murmured. “She rallied enough of us to her cause that where one faction failed, another succeeded.” He thought about that. “Natisha didn’t assign the task to me because the gwyllgi weren’t versatile enough.”

  “That’s my take,” Bishop agreed. “It was a group effort, but Hadley was the linchpin.”

  “Thank you.” I took his hand, sticky and warm. “You didn’t have to do this for me.”

  “Kid, I’ve got enough black marks on my soul I can’t see the writing on the wall anymore.” He squeezed my fingers. “You might get that far, you might not, but you’re not there now, and you won’t be on my watch.”

  Bishop killed to feed. I had always known that about him. He beat himself up over it each time, the loss of control, but he had to eat to live. I hadn’t asked him about it, and I doubted I ever would. There were some burdens that no two shoulders can support more easily than one.

  “I still appreciate it,” I said softly. “You’re a good friend.”

  “I’m learning to be.” He slanted his gaze toward Midas. “We good?”

  “You blew up Hadley,” Midas rumbled. “What do you think?”

  “Tell your man to toughen up if he’s going to date you.” Bishop chuckled. “He ain’t seen nothing yet.”

  Uncertain if he meant it as a compliment or a warning, I thinned my lips and watched him walk away.

  “Briefing at dusk.” He lifted a hand. “Until then.”

  “I’m out too.” Remy padded over, her skin dull and gray. “I have to find where the rest of me went.”

  “Get some rest.” I pointed a warning finger at her. “Do not open the store at dusk. Take the day off.”

  “Yes, boss.” She grinned at me. “I have inventory waiting anyway.”

  Midas nodded to her, and she nodded back. It wasn’t much, but I was impressed by their progress.

  “Gray, this is Hadley.” Midas introduced a very naked man with silver in his beard. “Hadley, this is Gray.”

  “Nice to meet you.” I kept my eyes glued to his face. “Thanks for the assist.”

  “I’m the alpha of the Kingsman lions.” He gestured to the other super-naked guys covered in gore. “I would like to sit down and talk to you about making our move to Atlanta permanent.”

  “Call the office.” I reached for a card and forgot I was charred, bloodied, and drenched in ichor. “Well, this is awkward. How about I call you? Midas mentioned you’re with the fire department?”

  “The city wanted new blood in Station Thirteen after the old captain retired and his coven left with him, so we took the posting. We’re used to working in tandem with the cleaners and the sentinels on the police force. We’ve been fielding paranormal calls in Tucson for about fifteen years now.” He studied me. “I’ve heard good things about you. Otherwise, I wouldn’t be standing here.”

  “I take my job seriously.” I averted my gaze to keep myself honest. “I take the safety of my citizens even more seriously.”

  He crossed to me, which made it even more awkward, given I was sitting and he was standing.

  Goddess, I did not want a face full of his junk as he shook my hand, but there you go.

  Today was just a face-full-of-junk kind of day, I guess.

  The warg packs gathered their wounded and left with nods to Midas and me, and the gwyllgi did too.

  Once Midas and I were alone, waiting on the cleaners to arrive, I worked up the nerve to face him.

  Chewing my bottom lip, I got down to it. “How mad are you on a scale of one to ten?”

  “They haven’t invented a number that high.”

  “I’m sorry.” I pulled my legs up to my chest. “It was all I could think to do.”

  “You saved our lives.”

  “So…” I flexed my toes in the dirt, unsure where my shoes had gone. “Are we okay?”

  “Hadley,” he said on a put-upon sigh. “You can jump into as many roach-filled pits as you want, get exploded as often as you like, and shake hands with naked men until your arm falls off. As long as you still come home to me, in one piece, with a pulse, I’m good.”

  “Good.” I leaned my head against his shoulder. “Midas?”

  Gently, he pressed a kiss to my hair. “Hmm?”

  “I love you.” I ignored the way my stomach wrung itself tighter and tighter until I wanted to hurl on him. “I didn’t mean for this to happen, but you didn’t leave me much choice. Really, if you think about it, it’s all your fault.”

  “I did trick you into the courtship,” he admitted, his expression remote.

  “Yeah.” I linked my hands in my lap. “You did.”

  “The way I see it,” he said slowly. “This is all your fault.”

  A laugh halfway to my lips, I gawked at him. “What are you talking about?”

  “I’ve been broken a long time, and you’re the first person who hasn’t tried to fix me.” He sighed. “You’ve made me better by example. I see you fighting your demons, and it’s given me courage to swing at mine too.”

  “We’ve both got work to do. I can’t very well shine a spotlight on yours when I’m under construction.”

  The thumping of my heart grew more painful as it sank in that he wasn’t going to say I love you back.

  “We should go.” I kept it casual as I drew away from him. “I owe Linus an update before I crash.”

  A thin excuse, but it beat the others out of my mouth.

  “That’s it?” His gaze roved my face. “You’re leaving?”

  “I feel like a total idiot,” I confessed, cheeks burning, “so yes. I’m leaving.”

  The mate thing must come with an expiration date similar to the courtship deal. It would be great if someone printed a handout for us non-gwyllgi to help us avoid whiplash and awkward declarations.

  Midas twisted until he faced me, and he stared until I blinked first. “I love you.”

  “Are you sure?” I blurted. “I’m a mess, and I joke all the time, and I don’t think before I act, and—”

  “You’re not going to talk me out of loving you.” He traced my collarbone with a finger. “Nothing will.”

  “Are you really sure?” I shivered under his touch. “You don’t have to say it just because I—”

  “Hadley.” He cradled my face in his palms. “You can’t scare me away.”

  Throat tight, I had to push out the words. “You would be better off with—”

  “I love you.” He brushed his lips over mine. “Even your warped sense of humor.”

  “You’re the warped one.” I kissed him back. “You like it.”

  “Let’s go home.” He got to his feet and pulled me to mine. “Linus can wait. You need rest.”

  “You’re just trying to get me into bed,” I teased with a quiet laugh.

  “Yes,” he said with heat that threatened to melt my bones. “I am.”

  Twenty-Eight

  A heat wave jarred me awake at dusk before my alarm got the chance. Sweat coated me head to toe, and I was sticky with it. I showered before collapsing onto the futon, but I still smelled…well-done. Probably my hai
r got burned. I might not have minded so much if I hadn’t registered the cause for my hot flashes.

  Midas was wrapped around me like a blanket. His strong arms locked around my waist, and his muscular legs tangled with mine. His chin rested on my shoulder, and he snored lightly in my ear. He was boneless against me, utterly relaxed, and I could have stayed like that with him forever and been happy.

  As if sensing I had woken, Midas growled and tightened his grip, reminding me last night had taken its toll on me.

  “Good morning to you too.” I reached back, ignoring the twang of pulled muscle, and patted his cheek. “You don’t have to get up with me.”

  “I need to report to the den,” he mumbled. “Gotta update Mom.”

  “I need to report to HQ.” I tapped his hands where they rested on my tender ribs. “And I have to pee.”

  Slowly, as if considering the merits of ignoring me, he let me go. “Come back when you’re done.”

  Sitting on the edge of the mattress, I had to force my legs to get with the program. Midas in bed, his lashes fanning his cheeks, was more tempting than anything on my docket for the day. “No.”

  Another growl slipped from between his lips, and he swiped out his arm to grab me. I leapt onto my feet in the nick of time, laughing at his frustrated snarl when he closed his fist over air, then hissed through my teeth as a wave of stabbing pain blindsided me.

  Midas stood in front of me in a blink. “How bad is it?”

  “I’ve had worse.” I got my breath back and straightened. “Abbott warned me to take it easy.”

  Worry pinched his features. “I didn’t hurt you, did I?”

  “I hurt me.” I rubbed my side and regretted it. “I shouldn’t have forgotten I’m not an Olympic gymnast.”

  “I held you all day,” he fretted. “Maybe we should drop in on Abbott, get your x-rays done again.”

  “You’re the only reason I slept all day.” I shoved him and regretted that too. “And besides, Abbott is mean to me.”

  “He didn’t throw that bedpan at you.”

  “It hit at my feet,” I reminded him. “He could have crushed a toe.”

  “It slipped out of his hand.” Midas kept his face blank. “It was an accident.”