Hell's Belle (27 page)

I turned and headed downstairs, humming a happy tune and wondering what would happen if I stole every towel from the guest bath and hid them somewhere very dark, very distant and very, very much
not
here.

I was still mulling over that brief glimpse of tattoo ink when I walked into the den. I’d caught the musky scent of animal before I was even halfway down the stairs. Fortunately, the suppression amulets were part of my daily weapons array now. I was barely in the room when a tall man with strangely colored hair snarled, “What did you do to the Wolf Alpha?”

I didn’t know the voice, but I recognized the Were as the one who’d been with Becca the night before. Pretty boy was trying to be frightening. In the last seven days, I’d dealt with the walking-dead, burned a hellhound to a crisp, learned I was half-demon, found out that my own family had hidden that fact from me all my life, watched a vampire be tortured, and dealt with a jealous, angry werewolf ex-husband. On a fright scale of one to ten, this boy was a minus three. He’d have to try harder. The moon-howlers were in my territory now.

And I was in no mood to play.

I surveyed the room. Becca was there, dressed in another nice suit with a skirt that showed a goodly amount of leg. With the Were from the night before was a woman who could be his twin. Both wore black military fatigues, had dark eyes, dark skin and black and white hair that blended to form a strangely appealing dark gray. Their exotic coloring, sculpted faces and muscled frames made them beautiful, but it was the beauty of a predator about to snap its prey’s neck. Last night I’d assumed he was Wolf, but his smell and look were all wrong. My guess was Tiger Clan.

Face carefully blank, I turned to Becca, speaking formally. “I acknowledge the Wolf Second and welcome her own as my guests.” She nodded, accepting the greeting. As the most senior Clan representative, Pack law dictated I address Becca first. Tiger boy was either testing me or trying to make me screw up. And more than that, they were hoping I’d lie. Weres could smell a lie, which was how they’d know that I was telling the truth—or mostly so—when I added, “In reference to her Were’s question, I saved the Alpha’s life.”

“Explain yourself.” Becca’s musical voice was harsh, though her eyes were empty of all emotion.

I sighed. I had been doing a lot of that lately. “You were just picking up the vamp that targeted Isabella, so I understand why you and Luke wouldn’t know Lady D’s rules.”

The female tiger sucked in a breath. Apparently they’d neglected to share a detail or two with the rest of the posse. To react that way, she’d have to be very familiar with the place.

“Rule three of the House is that there will be absolutely no shifting on the premises. The penalty is dismemberment or death, depending upon the Voodoo Queen’s mood.”

The female tiger nodded in confirmation.

“Lucas didn’t know that,” Becca said. “And how would the Queen know if he shifted? Luke was in a secure room.”

I might have to rethink Becca’s goal with this meeting. She wasn’t pulling any punches, but that was okay. I’d prepared for this. I gestured for them to sit and moved to grab the tray Aunt Helena had left on a side table. As I poured from the insulated carafe, the tension in the air was thick enough to cut with a knife. I set the cups down on the old scarred trunk along with bowls of cream and sugar. Fortunately, I knew the Beast-Clan’s secret weakness.

“Krispy Kreme?” I offered them each a doughnut, taking a chocolate-covered custard-filled one for myself. Weres never could resist sugar. They each took two or three and a coffee before I continued in terms they could understand. “It doesn’t matter if you know the rules or not. The House is the Voodoo Queen’s territory. The laws have to be enforced. Ignorance is no excuse.” All three nodded, understanding. “Besides, there has never been any love lost between Lady D and Lucas. She would never cut him slack simply because he’s my friend.”

This time only Becca nodded. So Luke had told her about the bad blood between him and Darryl. I’d never learned the cause, but I wasn’t about to ask in front of gruff and grim, the tiger twins.

“That still doesn’t explain how the Queen would know,” the female tiger said, slowly licking icing off her fingers. She probably thought that was sexy. Ha, this tiger was a pale imitation compared to the woman currently dressing upstairs.

“Lady D knows everything that happens in her House.” At their disbelieving looks, I considered telling them about the video and two-way mirror then thought better of it. The info would get back to Luke. If he thought D had witnessed our spat, things would go badly for us all. I tried a different tactic. “It was D who told me Luke and Jacq were about to rumble. It’s part of her magic. Believe me when I say she would’ve known.” Again all true. The tigers’ flinch at the word “magic” was barely perceptible. I was happy to see that Becca didn’t react. Maybe my attempts to calm Kyle had also, in a roundabout way, eased her own fears of the magical arts.

But Becca did flinch at the male Were’s next words: “The Wolf Alpha claimed you as mate.”

As fate would have it, that was the moment Jacq walked into the room. She sat on the arm of my chair, close enough to present a unified front…and close enough for me to smell her comforting scent. This could be very good or very bad timing. I chose to make it good. I’d only agreed to one date, singular, but she still needed to hear this.

My words were slow and very clear. “‘Wife.’ Luke said I was his wife. Our very brief marriage—emphasis on brief—was annulled three years ago.” I looked each Were in the eye. The Clan didn’t need to know that I’d been in a coma for six out of the seven days of that ill-fated marriage. From the way I was sitting, I couldn’t see Jacq’s face, but during my explanation she’d laid an arm casually across the back of my chair, brushing my neck. After my statement, her arm relaxed, but with Becca’s next words, it again tightened.

More softly, Becca said, “No, Rom’s right. Earlier, Luke claimed you as mate. That began the argument.”

Jacq’s body went very still. I’d guessed that Luke had said something like that but hoped I was wrong. Becca’s hesitant tone caught the female tiger, who turned to look at her. The last thing I wanted was for Becca to look weak in front of the other Weres. They didn’t have to be from the same clan to break into a bloody dominance game. I liked Becca. But I liked the state of my den more. And Were disputes usually ended with broken furniture and bloodstained carpet. Their broken bones would heal, my furniture would not. There was blood in the water, and all I could do was pinch my nose and cannonball in.

“Well, it takes two to tango,” I said. “No offense, but I’m not in the mood to dance with the wolves.” No one even cracked a smile.
Gee, tough crowd.
I added more formally, “I hereby renounce any claim to the Wolf-Clan’s Alpha. Luke will have to find another mate—this woman isn’t willing.”

Jacq and Becca never moved, but I sensed their tension ease. Did they really think that after all this—after three years—that I’d want to be mate to Luke? I kept my body perfectly relaxed, despite wanting to sink my nails into something. The Weres were too tuned into body language for me to appear as anything but calm and confident. But real soon, I was going to get these ladies alone and explain a few things.

Our talk progressed well from there. The tension ebbed further when my aunt joined us. The male tiger offered to give up his seat, but Aunt Helena just pulled up the piano stool. The tiger went up a notch in my opinion. He was still a sneaky bastard for trying to get me to break Were protocol. But he was a sneaky bastard with manners.

We plied the tigers, whose names I learned were Risa and Romulus Legion (indeed they were twins), with caffeine and sugar until they were finally convinced of two things. One: I was not Pack material. Two: Luke would soon awaken refreshed, unharmed…and single. Then the tigers sheepishly confessed that they weren’t actually here to hassle me about the previous night. That was simply a bonus. I say sheepishly only because Aunt Helena was in the room. She could’ve made Attila the Hun feel like he was confessing a bathroom accident to his first-grade teacher.

Before the pissing contest had begun, Jacq had filled Luke and Becca in on our interrogation of Carlisle, Nicky-boy’s vamp inside the Council. In Luke’s stead, Becca had reported back to Grey, who’d sent his tigers as more backup.

Risa and Rom had only recently moved into Grey’s territory. They hadn’t even finished unpacking before being told to stick to me like glue. This was their first assignment, and their new leader had sent these two, magic-shy Weres after a demon lord’s sorcerer?
Who had they majorly pissed off?
Both tigers assured us that they were skilled fighters in human and beast form. One look at their bodies had me convinced. Like Jacq, they had a sleek, dangerous air.

Aunt Helena had gone upstairs. Jacq and I were walking the tigers to the door when it burst open. Mynx and Fera roared in, dragging along a loudly protesting and strikingly pretty young woman. Her disordered blond hair had one blue stripe down the side. Like a woman after my own heart, she wore a pair of holey faded jeans and an oxford shirt with her sleeves rolled up.

“Settle down! We just saved your bloody behind. How about a little gratitude?” Fera shouted. In her agitation, her normal drawl had switched to a very Old World accent. I’d never seen Fera lose her cool. The blonde had my immediate respect.

“I’ll show you gratitude.” The young woman yanked her wrist from Fera’s grasp, twisted, and rammed her palm into Mynx’s nose. Mynx had blocked hundreds of moves like that over the years, but with her hands full trying to restrain her attacker’s other arm, she was helpless to protect herself.

Mynx howled. Risa, a few steps behind me, said, “Oh, that had to hurt.” Blood gushed from Mynx’s nose. I’d seen her receive much worse and wasn’t concerned, but Fera dropped all pretense of controlling the blonde and turned to Mynx.

“That would be Brittan,” I muttered.

Fera and Mynx had the door blocked, so Brittan charged forward, not looking back. On the frontline, I braced to meet her. But Jacq, leaning against the kitchen archway, wrapped both arms around my waist and pulled me close. “Oh, no you don’t,” she murmured in my hair. “I didn’t save you from a hellhound and a tumble down the stairs just to let you get trampled by a feisty grad student with a killer right hook.”

I didn’t protest her grip because it felt nice, and I didn’t protest her preventing me from stopping the infuriated blond linebacker rushing down my hallway because it didn’t matter. Brittan wouldn’t get far. She was headed straight for our new allies. Besides, the tigers had eaten all the doughnuts. They needed to earn their keep.

Brittan ran by, smashing right into Risa’s chest. “What the hell?” Rom cried. He looked from the bleeding Mynx at the open door to his sister, who was holding on to a surprisingly quiet Brittan. The young woman was breathing heavily, unwittingly sucking in great gulps of air thick with phers, which were growing thicker as Risa reacted to her charge. Just great. I needed more sexual tension in this house like I needed a demon invasion. At that thought, my gut gave a funny twist, which I blamed on too many doughnuts.

“Hold on, little one,” Risa said. “What’s your trouble?” Her deep voice was surprisingly gentle considering that not long ago she’d growled at me over the last sprinkle-covered Krispy Kreme.

“Little? Look who’s talking Goliath.” Brittan tried to pull away, scowling, “Let go. I need to reach the police. I was assaulted.” True, the struggling Brittan, dwarfed by the tall Risa, wasn’t little. She was roughly my height.

Risa’s arms tightened, nostrils flaring, scenting the crimson blood staining Brittan’s torn sleeve. “Who assaulted you?” Ooo, that doughnut growl was back. Risa’s teeth gnashed, facial bones shifting under her skin.

At my waist, Jacq’s hand clenched. I was unworried. My eager gaze pinged from court to court.

Unaware of her danger, Brittan flippantly replied, “What does it matter to you? I don’t care if you’re the defender of the weak and helpless and secretly wear tights and a cape under your,” she looked down, a bit surprised. “BDUs.” She glared at the tiger. “I’m perfectly capable of taking care of myself.”
Where had I heard that before?

She pushed against Risa’s chest, but the tiger didn’t budge, instead taking her own deep calming breaths. Brittan’s words would’ve been more impressive if she hadn’t been stuck in the arms of said defender. But though her hands were free, surprisingly the protesting woman hadn’t tried any of those self-defense moves on her keeper. Smart girl. While Mynx and Fera were fast and deadly, they were still civilized. With bulging muscles and bloodlust in her eyes, Risa looked like a female Rambo. She might not be the big bad wolf, but I bet she still ate little girls for breakfast.

Fera stepped forward. “Honey, we are the police. I tried to tell you.” She grinned. “You’d think the metal bars afforded a clue.” The look in Fera’s eyes was definitely pissed, but her voice was calm, even amused.

Brittan leaned back in her captor’s arms, glaring over her shoulder at anyone within range. “For all I know, you stole that ride. Let me see some ID.”

Fera sighed. “Jacq, show her your badge. I seem to have left mine in my other pants.” Fera and Mynx flushed.

I grinned, making a note to ask the two exactly where the good law-woman’s pants were. Jacq pulled out her badge and flashed the hologram to everyone in the room. This somewhat pacified Brittan.

Brittan’s eyes were still suspicious, but at least she no longer looked like she wanted to deck someone. Risa could’ve released her, but the tiger had yet to loosen her grip.

No one spoke, so Fera resumed her tale, gesturing toward Brittan. “The vampire fingered her as the sorcerer’s next target. We were going to watch, protect her from a distance, but they moved up their schedule. We pulled up and nearly hit her,” she pointed at Brittan, who was listening with rapt ears, “and her toy-sized scooter.”

“It’s called a moped. Jeez, what century are you from? And what are you talking about? Sorcerer? Are you on something? You know you’re not supposed to eat the ’shrums that grow on those cow patties, right?” Brittan gave Fera the classic eye-roll and hair-toss. A blonde in action was a beautiful thing.