He smiled at Adam, and the smile changed his face, giving it the kind of dangerous charm that had sent women after bad men for as long as there had been women and bad men.
“Ah, please forgive me. I was visiting my people. I had forgotten that I should have let you know that I was here.”
He knew that Adam could hear the lies he spoke. He didn’t care.
“Oh, you let us know,” I said. But I said it quietly enough that he could ignore me if he wanted to, and he didn’t pull his attention off Adam, who was smiling with white teeth.
“I wasn’t speaking of your visit,” Adam said gently. “Though I accept your apologies as meant; Marsilia can have whatever visitors she chooses. She is my ally and I accept her judgment. I was speaking of this—” Adam swept out a hand to indicate the vineyard and the house we couldn’t see but all knew was there. His other hand held the bo. “You should have put the property in someone else’s name if you didn’t want us to find it.”
“This?” Bonarata said, brows raising in mock surprise. “This is a gift for Marsilia. She complained to me that so many houses have been built around her seethe that they pose a risk to her people. When it is finished, I shall present her with the deed.”
That, oddly enough, was truth.
“A surprise gift,” Adam said. “She didn’t know about it.”
Bonarata’s smile widened. “That is true. But how else should you present such a gift to the woman you love?”
I snorted and drew an unfriendly look. He wouldn’t think it odd that I avoided his eyes. Smart people didn’t look vampires in the eyes.
He returned his attention to Adam. “Next time I come, I will be sure to give you warning,” he said. “When I next buy property, I shall speak to you as well. As you can hear, I am getting ready to leave.” His smile widened again, giving us a glimpse of fang. “My work here is done.”
I tapped my hand twice on my thigh, giving Adam warning. When the Harvester appeared at Bonarata’s side, teleporting in, Adam had already let the bo slide into both of his hands, ready for action.
Wulfe had fed again since Warren, I thought. The iris of his left eye was white, still in the process of regeneration, but his right eye was clear. He could see. That would change things a little, hopefully in our favor. I wondered that Bonarata had allowed it, then realized it was the Soul Taker that understood Wulfe’s ability to see made him more difficult to keep in thrall.
“This one,” Bonarata said, indicating the Harvester, “belongs to Marsilia.” His words rang with a power that seemed to take him by surprise.
I had done that a few times. Said things in the heat of the moment, and it was like the universe listened. That was how our pack ended up in charge of a supernatural neutral zone.
I could see from Bonarata’s face that he hadn’t meant his statement to be real. But there had been truth in his voice, and something—fate or the universe or magic itself—had decided to take the man at his word.
A binding between Bonarata and Wulfe broke. I saw the Harvester’s robes sway.
Wulfe had always been a spy in Marsilia’s camp, Bonarata’s unwilling servant. If Wulfe and Adam and I survived this night, I’d be pretty interested to see what this changed.
Adam stepped forward, disrupting the moment. “This is my territory,” he said—and there was a bit of unintentional magic in his voice, too.
Maybe he should have waited another minute, because our territory had just expanded again.
There was something in the air tonight, I thought. Then my eyes found the battered sickle in Wulfe’s hand. I knew how dense the collection of souls the Soul Taker had amassed was. Something like that could leave a magical charge just by being in the vicinity.
I put my hand on the girdle—not on purpose, just reflex, to make sure it was still there—and it was warm, a few degrees warmer than my body. It took me by surprise. I had not thought the belt to be anything but an antique. Not only was it warm, but I could feel a few bits of sparking magic caressing my skin.
The Harvester—Wulfe—turned his face toward me, and I saw the exact moment he noticed what I was wearing.
The girdle’s magic had distracted me. Adam and Bonarata had exchanged a few words, but Adam’s growl brought my attention back to them.
“The Harvester may not hunt in my territory,” Adam said.
Bonarata stepped back and waved a gracious hand. “By all means, Alpha. I have told you he is not mine.” His voice had a snap to it I didn’t think he intended because the last two words were nearly a purr. “Stop him.”
Adam didn’t run precisely, though he moved with speed. Wulfe looked at the girdle I wore for half a breath longer before turning to engage with Adam.
I moved to the side so I could watch the fight and keep an eye on Bonarata at the same time. Adam and I had a backup plan if Bonarata threw in—but Adam didn’t think he would. If he attacked Adam in our territory when he was a guest, he would lose face—and provide an opportunity for Bran to claim the attack was an act of war. Our pack might be officially separated from the Marrok, but Bran claimed all of North America. He could legitimately recognize any unprovoked aggression on Bonarata’s part. More to the point, Bonarata knew that Bran would do so.
Adam didn’t think Bonarata would risk a full-scale war with the North American werewolves. Of course, for Bran to act, there had to be witnesses.
I touched the belt again, just to make sure that I hadn’t been imagining things. But it felt entirely normal now. Maybe I had just imagined it.