Spirited Legacy (Lost Library) (5 page)

“I doubt he can hear us this far away—and it’s not like he’d be trying.” At Kenna’s skeptical look, Lizzie replied, “Not everyone is as nosy as you.”

“I’m glad you buy that explanation,” Kenna said, still with a skeptical arch to her brow.

Lizzie shook her head and rolled her eyes. “What else did you ask me?”

“The Pack,” Kenna reminded her.

“Right. I don’t know. He went yesterday and came back late last night. I’m not sure how much of the Pack activities I can talk about—but that’s actually all I know. But I can tell you that John and I are in extended negotiations over my current perceived position within the Pack.” Lizzie frowned. She hadn’t actually thought about it like that until now.

Kenna sat up straighter. “So is this why your eyes are all puffy and you look like you’re hung over?”

“Gah. Seriously? You’re going to damage what little self-esteem I have, you evil wench. You know I have allergies.” Since Kenna had poked and prodded her to date more and was always telling her how gorgeous she was, Lizzie couldn’t help but grin at her evaluation today.

“So—no crying?”

Lizzie smiled. “No, I did not cry myself to sleep.”

“Okay. Tell me about these negotiations. Who knew you had a position within the Pack.” Kenna seemed intrigued by the concept.

“Right? I’m still in the dark about how Lycan packs work.” Lizzie raised an eyebrow at her friend. “If you hadn’t shown up when you did, I planned to ask.”

Kenna laughed and rolled off the loveseat. “Got it; I’m outta here. I love you, too. I’m still driving you to the airport tonight?”

Lizzie hugged her tight. “Yes, please. I’d really like to see you again before I leave.”

Chapter 6

I
t had taken John about fifteen minutes of heavy lifting to clear out a space for Lizzie’s car. Making enough room in a two-car garage for one Jetta wagon hadn’t been that hard. Although, he thought as he looked around, she did have a lot of items that seemed to serve no immediate purpose. He saw several boxes labeled “donate” and made a mental note to take care of them when they got back.

Once he was done, he found a few boxes that looked sturdy enough to hold him and sat down. He’d give Kenna and Lizzie a few more minutes and take care of some pack business. He placed several calls, one to each of the Pack’s Council members. His preference would have been to speak with them in person, but he simply hadn’t the time before he had to leave for Prague. Except for his Uncle Logan, who was a Council member, a phone call would have to suffice.

During the latter half of his Uncle Logan’s tenure as Alpha, John and Logan had developed and eventually created the Council of Elders. The idea was to create more stability within the Pack. And so far, it had. The Council had thrived for the last twenty-one years, nine years of which had been during John’s tenure as Alpha. Most of the Council were ardent supporters, but not all. John rarely missed a Council meeting, and he wanted the members to know he wouldn’t be missing the next meeting, scheduled in three weeks. He also always—almost always, he amended—updated the Council on any foreign travel. So he would be giving them his contact information in Prague.

Interestingly, most of the Council members had been open to discussing formalizing a relationship with the IPPC. Given the past reclusive and almost xenophobic behavior of the Texas Pack, that was a pleasant surprise. The groundwork that first Logan and now he was doing to yank the Texas Pack into the current century might actually be paying off. Now, if he didn’t alienate too many members with his choice of mate, he’d be doing great.

An hour later, John was done. He was happy to build and maintain relationships with several senior, knowledgeable members of his pack. He even considered several of them personal friends. But sometimes the diplomacy and finesse required to further his goals was wearing. No—exhausting. But the head-bashing alternatives were less appealing. And he refused to rule by fear within his own pack. Respect, naturally, but not fear. His neighboring allies in Arkansas were one example of how governance through fear failed long-term.

He shook his head. The Arkansas Pack may now be his
former
ally. He’d finally spoken at length with Ben Emmerson, his top Enforcer. Ben had created such a mess in Jonesboro, Arkansas that John had attempted to schedule a meet with Arkansas’s Alpha, Jared Warren, but he’d been rebuffed. Since Warren had a pack uprising on his hands, John wasn’t particularly concerned that he was a direct threat to Texas. He had an eye on them—Jared and the volatile pack dissenters, because instability so close to home was always a concern. Christina Landford, known to her friends as Chris, was coordinating surveillance and reporting to John. Arkansas wasn’t a pressing concern—yet.

He pinched the bridge of his nose. He might actually be getting a headache. Just a hair before Lizzie opened the door to the garage, something warned him of her presence—a scent, a sound—so he stood up and turned, the look of exhaustion wiped from his face before she stepped into the garage.

“Wow. That was quick.” Lizzie was looking not at the open space he’d made for her car, but the shelves he’d assembled and the items tidily stored on them.

What else was he supposed to do once his butt got tired of sitting on a box? He’d puttered around and tidied as he’d spoken with the Council. And the shelves hadn’t even required tools; they just slotted together.

“Hmm. I had to make some phone calls, so—” He peered at her. It hadn’t crossed his mind until this moment that what he was doing might be considered invasive. It needed to be done, and he was standing around. He was starting to realize relationships held more mines and traps than pack politics.

“Thank you,” she said and gave him a brilliant smile. All right, then. Apparently not the wrong thing to do. Maybe he’d ask next time. Who was he kidding? No, he probably wouldn’t.

“My pleasure.” He followed Lizzie back into the house. He eyed the kitchen table, laid out with sandwich fixings. He really had been preoccupied if he’d missed that just one room away. “I am ready for some lunch. Where’s Kenna? And the boys?”

“Headed home. She offered to drop the dogs off at her mom’s for me. She’ll be back by later to give us a lift.” She sat down at the table and started slicing bread. She’d hesitated just a fraction of a second before she said “us” but didn’t glance his way.

He wasn’t really sure what would piss her off at this point, but he figured full disclosure was his best bet. “I bought a ticket this morning.”

She nodded. His nose wasn’t detecting the acrid, sour scent of anger.

“Are you on my flight?” she asked politely enough.

“I am.” Since there didn’t seem to be an immediate danger of a fight, he figured he might as well eat. He was starving. After his first bite, he couldn’t help but focus on the excellent ham, so her next question was somewhat jarring.

“Do I want to know how you have my flight information, since you didn’t actually ask me?” Lizzie asked.

The ham sandwich would have to wait. His brow rose as he speculated on the right answer to that question. “Probably not, but I’ll tell you.” Damn, he was hungry. Hopefully that didn’t impair his decision-making skills. “I had Max ask a friend to dig it up. I didn’t want you to leave before we had a chance to talk.”

She nodded.

“Why the long layover?” He’d mentally shrugged and bought tickets on the same flights, but a seven-hour layover is excessively lengthy unless she had an appointment.

She cocked her head to the side, as if considering her answer. “I made arrangements with Harrington to stop by Sarah’s care facility. He said that she’s still in a coma and may not recognize the presence of visitors. But since she was injured trying to save me, I wanted to visit.”

“I’ll stop by IPPC headquarters,” he offered. He figured she’d appreciate a little space.

“Thank you.” She gave him a quick smile and went back to picking at her food. Since Lizzie had recovered her appetite after the kidnapping, not eating was a sign—of something.

“We haven’t—” he started.

“We need to—” she said, speaking at the same time.

He waited. She started chewing the corner of her lip, a sure sign that she was thinking really hard—or upset.

“We need to talk about what a mate is. What you—and everyone else—expect now that the magical world thinks we’re mated.”

He cringed slightly, but it had to be said. “Technically, we are mated.”
Shit.
He could see the slight pink flush starting on her cheeks and moving down her neck.

He drew an audible breath. “I understand you had no idea what you were agreeing to. But the point is, I asked and you said yes. Technically, that makes it true.”

“Okay.” Succinctly said, but his nose picked up a combination of sharply sour and sweet odors. Fear and anger.

“As a human, being mated isn’t much different than being married. You can walk away whenever you like. There’s no repercussion—nothing to prevent you from leaving.” John was hoping that might put her mind at ease.

She narrowed her eyes. “And you? What about you?”

“In theory, I can do the same—but it’s not done.” He almost laughed at the look on her face. Almost. “You’re it for me.”

“But—why would you…” she sputtered.

“Because I’m sure. As sure as I can be.” This wasn’t really a topic he wanted to linger on. “You want to know the expectations of a mate?”

“Yes.” Lizzie frowned. “Yes,” she said a second time, more firmly.

“Lycan have historically tended toward isolation—though that’s changing. And Lycan also tend to think in terms of ‘us’ or ‘them.’ That means that packs frequently don’t follow the same rules or have the same traditions.” John looked at his sandwich and debated whether he could reasonably eat at this point.

She looked at his plate and said, “Finish your sandwich before you faint from low blood sugar.”

Hey, he wasn’t that bad.

Halfway through his sandwich, she brought up Harrington. “So Harrington was wrong? I mean, his assumption that I’d need permission to leave Pack territory?”

“Not exactly. Any area outside pack territory is basically the equivalent of foreign soil. Since Alpha Mate is a respected position within most packs, there are implications to crossing boundaries. In more traditional packs, an Alpha might require not only his mate but all pack members to inform him of travel and possibly even receive approval.”

“Kind of like a visa? You’re basically your own country?” Disbelief was strong in her voice.

“A little. Except someone like you—someone unfamiliar with Lycan boundaries—wouldn’t know when you were entering another pack’s territory or were on neutral ground. And I need to make some accommodation when you travel through or visit a territory,” he said.

Her nose wrinkled slightly and her eyes narrowed in an involuntary wince. “It sounds very political.”

This time he couldn’t stop a sharp bark of laughter, though it held little humor. “Yes. It can be.”

“Hmm,” she said noncommittally.

“It’s out there in the magic-using community that you’re my mate—” He noted the look of disapproval Lizzie didn’t bother to hide. “—so there will be certain expectations. Until we resolve our differences, some pretense of support in public would be good.”

“I assumed.” Lizzie grumbled. “I told Kenna it sounded a lot like being a politician’s wife.”

“Is that so terrible?” Her attitude was starting to grate. He would put up with politics and more for her.

She deflated, sinking lower into her seat. “No. I mean—what you’ve told me so far seems reasonable enough. I would do that and more to pursue what we have. But I also can’t lose all control over my life. And you’ve made me feel out of control.”

John realized now wasn’t the time to point it out, but this wasn’t just about him. Being kidnapped must have made her feel powerless. And not having a good understanding of her magic didn’t particularly help. But pointing out the chaotic state of her life didn’t seem advantageous to his argument or to her state of mind.

“You haven’t eaten a bite since we sat down. Why don’t you finish your lunch, and we can discuss it further later.”

She nodded absentmindedly, staring at her plate. He’d managed to finish his sandwich as they spoke and was gathering his plate and glass when she looked up.

There wasn’t any trace of doubt when she spoke. “I’m glad you’re coming.”

That was a start.

Chapter 7

“Y
ou’re it for me,” John had said.
No pressure.
That was Lizzie’s mantra as she finished packing and even when Kenna arrived to drive them to the airport. She wasn’t sure what to make of the fact that John was stuck with her or no one. Although, she supposed Catholics had done it for years. And he had lived thirty-nine years without a mate. She really was grasping at this point. Regardless of which way she looked at the situation, he’d taken a risk. On her. Right—no pressure.

In an effort to deflect, she focused on something positive, something exciting.
The Library
. All of those spelled books. It made her head spin just to think that she would be able to dig around in a roomful of such amazing books and read anything that caught her eye.

And first-class air travel. That was something she could focus on, she thought as she stretched her legs out and wiggled her toes.

“Enjoying that leg room, I see,” John said.

“Yes. I can’t say I’m sorry you upgraded us, but I feel just the tiniest bit guilty.” She saw him glance at her in mild amusement. “Okay, only a very tiny bit guilty.” She was excited enough that the bumpy ascent of the plane barely registered.

John started to look green. Whatever it was about John’s magic that imbued him with a higher metabolism, increased strength, improved senses, healing, and all the other Lycan goodies, it missed the mark with motion sickness. While Lizzie felt sympathetic, she couldn’t miss the irony. And having suffered from airsickness herself, before her magic had been unblocked, she knew how completely rotten it felt. She inched just a little farther away from him. Airsickness had always made her feel claustrophobic. And since John took up a lot of space, she figured giving him a little room was wise.