Bram, though not the biggest badass in the room, carried the mantle of a leader, cool most of the time, but in your face when he had to be—like now.
“Lucan, I know you and Shock have…issues. But I do not believe he betrayed us. By helping us in the first place, I have no doubt he has put himself at odds with much of his family, and still he remains.”
“As a spy!” Lucan insisted.
Olivia agreed. She had to—or face the thought that her father had betrayed her.
“You’re way off, dickhead,” Shock spat.
Olivia had no doubt that, behind Shock’s sunglasses, the wizard glared out a death wish.
“Enough,” Bram said to Lucan before he addressed the group. “The truth is, we don’t know exactly who our Judas is. I won’t believe it’s someone in this room.” He cast a hard glare to Lucan. “Nor will you. Anyone telepathic at the party had the information. Any of them could have told Mathias, and we will likely never know who. Fighting the Anarki and learning to eliminate the half-dead is our priority. So, Marrok, will you train and join us?”
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
MARROK SAT BACK in his chair. Six pairs of eyes burned into him, none more than Olivia’s.
Being denied the chance to replenish their bond and her strength was playing havoc with his head. But that would have to wait. The possibility that she was conspiring with her father to earn the man’s affection disturbed him. But ignoring the possibility that she distanced herself from her mate because she had sided with her sire only placed her and the book in more danger. He could not afford to make decisions based on fear, denial, or ignorance of the magical world.
He needed an ally. Though he hated to admit it, the job of protecting both the book and Olivia while fighting the Anarki and Mathias was too big for him alone. Part of being a good warrior was knowing when to align with someone.
He knew of only one person in the room, who, without a doubt, would never take Mathias’s side.
Marrok tore his gaze from Olivia’s worried one and focused on Bram. “I must speak to you. Alone.”
Surprise flickered across Bram’s face, but Marrok could read men. His request was not unwelcome.
“Right. Out with you,” Bram said to the other men. “Let me talk to the warrior.”
With a mixture of shrugs and disgruntled stares, the others filed out the office door, all except Olivia, who hadn’t moved an inch. She, more than anyone, could not hear this.
He turned to her. “I’m sorry, love. Can you leave us for just a minute?”
His request clearly hurt her. Marrok watched emotion churn in those dazzling violet eyes, but didn’t apologize. If he could prove his worries false, he would find a million ways to make it up to her. If not…
Stiffly, she rose and left.
Bram shut the door softly behind her. “What’s on your mind?”
“I would not say we have been friends.”
“I’ve tried. You seem not to appreciate my finer qualities.”
“After my experience with Morganna, you will understand why I distrust those who wield magic.”
“And here I hoped you’d come to understand that we’re not all evil freaks.”
Marrok smiled faintly. “After the attack this morning, I have reevaluated my position. I trust no one except—and I never believed I would say this—you. When you crossed the magic circle at my cottage, it was clear you could have entered and stolen the book anytime you wished.”
Bram nodded.
“Why did you restrain yourself?”
“To build your trust. I didn’t know exactly where you’d hidden the diary. Stealing it does no good because I don’t know if any dark magic comes with it. Some objects can be cursed so that if they’re taken from their makers, bad things happen.”
“Like the book locking and never opening again?”
“Or worse. Illness, death, tragedy…”
“So you restrained yourself?”
“I continued to hope that if I helped you get free of your curse, you’d pass the diary into my hands for safekeeping. Such a powerfully magical object should be well protected from Mathias. So until your curse is ended and your connection to the book severed, stealing it could do more harm than good.”
Logical, Marrok supposed, in a magical sort of way. “Had you ever met Richard Gray before your party?”
“No. He rang me once, years ago. I’d read up on him, of course. After Olivia said the man was her father, I floated word ’round the magical underground types that I had information Gray might want. When he showed up at my party, I asked if he had any children. He supplied me with Olivia’s name, age, and London address.”
Why would the man know so much about Olivia, yet never take the time to meet her? “You let him in simply to reunite father and daughter? I doubt your motives were that touching.”
“Olivia is your mate and a le Fay. I don’t think it’s a coincidence that one le Fay woman created the instrument of your torture, while another completes you. Somehow, Olivia is the key to ending your curse.”
“And if you help me find peace, then you obtain the Doomsday Diary more quickly.”
Bram shot him a self-deprecating smile. “Yes, but Richard Gray likely knows more about the diary than anyone.”
Marrok sighed and sat back, steepling his fingers. “My cooperation, if I give it, does not come without a price.”
“Naturally.”
Bram had nerves of steel. Though he looked calm, Marrok knew that the future of Bram’s Brethren—indeed, magickind—rested on the man’s ability to persuade a warrior who loathed magic to teach wizards to fight like mortals.
His and Olivia’s lives depended on evading Mathias, something Marrok was uncertain he could do without magical help. If Bram’s forefather could defeat a bitch like Morganna, Bram himself likely had the skills to deal with Mathias.
“Olivia is protected—no matter who threatens her, what it costs, or how many die.”
“That is a given. She is critical to both sides. We questioned Zain, the Anarki Lucan and Duke captured. His mission was to take Olivia unharmed to Mathias, along with the book. Mathias called her ‘valuable’ to his cause.”
Thoughts raced through Marrok’s brain even as his blood turned to ice. He resisted the urge to swear—something too telling while negotiating. Instead, he crossed his ankles, acting as if he had not a care.
“So my hunch about Olivia being critical to the book is correct. Which leads me to his former comrade. I do not trust Richard Gray. Should he come here, I want him watched. He must never be alone with Olivia.”
Suddenly, Bram burst out laughing. “You have balls of steel. At the thought of their mates in danger, most magical men would have a panic level somewhere near atomic. Yet you sit there like a stone. No wonder history recorded you as a great tactician.”
Except when it came to his cock. Likely, Olivia was a mistake he should not have made, but he still could not regret her—even knowing that, because of her, he sat squarely in the middle of a war he cared little for and that the very woman he tried to protect might ultimately stab him in the back to please a parent who had never troubled himself to find her.
“Let us bypass the pleasantries. You want me to teach you and your men how to fight like warriors in…weeks? Days?”
Suddenly sober, Bram nodded. “Wizards have abilities that will allow us to master skills faster than humans, but we still haven’t a moment to lose. Mathias will do anything to obtain the diary or Olivia. He can’t succeed.”
“Indeed not. This place must become a fortress, guarded with everything possible.”
“We have spells and enchantments on it, some placed here by Merlin himself. It’s tight.”
“Call me old-fashioned, but I want eyes in the very topmost tower scanning the land every direction, every moment of every day.” He’d love to have high-powered rifles or rocket launchers, but they were bloody difficult to obtain and would be useless in the hands of the untrained. “And only by those you trust, who have a vested interest in our success.”
“Done. Olivia and the book will be safe as long as the Doomsday Brethren are well trained.”
“They will be. What you suggest will require eighteen hours each day of sweating dedication. You will hurt as you never have in your life. You will cry and beg for mercy, and I will have none.”
“You will find us up to the challenge.”
“Shock, perhaps. Maybe Ice, too. If Lucan can channel his anger…” Marrok shrugged. “Duke looks far too privileged to sweat for hours on end. Tell him to leave his designer clothes at home.”
Bram cracked a smile. “Yes, sir. And what is your assessment of me?”
“When I am done with you, you will no longer look like magic’s pretty boy. But you will be ready to fight.”
“That’s what’s important.” Bram stood and extended his hand across the desk. “Do we have a deal?”
Marrok took Bram’s hand in a firm grip and gave it a decisive shake. “Deal.”
After breakfast, Marrok journeyed upstairs to find Olivia lounging on the bed, reading her new spellbook, apparently in a snit, since she refused to look at him. So she hadn’t liked being asked to leave Bram’s office. It had been for the best. Insulting her father within earshot would only rile her again.
Olivia closed her eyes, mumbled something to herself, then opened her eyes wide.
“Damn it!”
“What are you doing?”
She arched a dark brow at him. “Oh, I’m supposed to let you in on stuff, but you don’t have to tell me anything.”
“Forgive me for protecting you from what I sense will be a terrible war.”
She glared at him and turned away. Marrok was tempted then and there to cover her mouth with his own, stretch her out on the bed and take her until she cried his name, until she acknowledged their bond again.
But the wizards were waiting to begin their training now. Their assistance in Olivia’s protection must start immediately, no matter how badly he wanted otherwise.
“I’m not a hothouse flower. You can’t protect me from everything.”
“Protecting is in a warrior’s nature. I am too old to change.”
“And I’m too independent to be cosseted.”
It was one of the things that both attracted and infuriated him. “I will do my best to remember such. Now, tell me why you are cursing.”
“Well, I’m guessing you’re going to be training all the guys to fight, right?”
“Aye.”
“We need to hide the diary before you leave.”
Excellent notion. Hopefully, it would be temporarily safe, since all the men would be with him…unless Olivia contacted her father and told the man where to find it.
“What has that to do with your cursing?”
She cast him an impatient glance. “We talked before breakfast about you carving something to affix to the furniture to hide the book. So I was trying to conjure up the wood for you to carve.”
“Is it not working?”
“Not worth a damn. While you shoveled down your third helping of eggs, I was trying to figure this out. I’m focusing, picturing what I want, pouring my energy into it. I know I’m not going to learn magic overnight, but…argh!”
He sat beside her on the bed and forced himself to cup her cheek—and nothing more. “Can I help?”
She shrugged. “I don’t see how.”
“Magic requires concentration and desire for the outcome?”
“Yeah, but maybe since I haven’t transitioned yet, I’m trying to do too much.”
He wondered if he were an imbecile to encourage her magic, but he hated to see her glum. “Sabelle said these spells were simple. You have powerful blood. Believe in yourself.”
Olivia turned a soft gaze to him that hit him in the chest…and below the belt. In days, the woman had wrapped herself around him, and no matter how often he told himself to disengage, he could not.
“Thanks. Maybe this will help.” She took his hand and squeezed it. Closing her eyes, Olivia concentrated. “How big do you need the wood?”
“Just enough to hide the diary. I will devise a way to affix it to the furniture.”
She nodded and started mumbling again, squeezing his hand tighter and tighter. Zounds, who knew his woman was so strong?
Suddenly, a hunk of smooth cherry, the same color as the furniture, appeared in the middle of the bed.
Her eyes popped open again, and she squealed. “I did it! My very first bit of real magic!”
“You did.” He couldn’t resist the chance to plant a congratulatory kiss on her mouth. She had used magic for the first time to help him, no one else.
Had he been too suspicious of her and her heritage for naught?
“It was easier this time. It was like I had more energy because you were here. Now you can carve a hiding place for the book.”