Wicked Burn (6 page)

Nick eyed Bear. “Your mother?”

“Um, a bear shifter who didn’t live through childbirth,” Bear returned. “They weren’t mated.”

How very odd. Nick rocked back on his heels. While it wasn’t unheard of for an immortal to impregnate someone without a mating bond, it was extremely rare. To be able to do so with two different females, of different species, was impossible. “That’s amazing.”

“The old man was one of a kind,” Bear said, turning to study a Brenna Dunne oil painting on the far wall.

Land mine there. Something told Nick that Bear wasn’t being completely forthcoming, but Nick couldn’t exactly blame him. He cleared his throat, watching carefully for Bear to lose it. “You mentioned you have enemies other than the Nine in Ireland. Who?”

Bear shook his head, his gaze almost haunted. “Not talkin’ about it.”

Fine. “What contract with the Nine were you talking about when we were in the plane earlier?”

Bear slowly turned, his eyes seeming darker than usual. Much darker. “When the truth came out about Simone being part shifter, I signed a contract with the Coven Nine, or rather, her mama, that I would never reveal Simone’s lineage, and that I’d get the hell out of Ireland.”

Nick shook his head. The damn witches, their egos, and their dangerous ambitions. Maybe it had been a mistake to encourage Simone to follow hers. Look where it had gotten her. “Let me guess. If you reveal the truth, or if you set foot in Ireland, you forfeit everything you have?”

“Yep,” Bear said.

“Figures.” Nick glanced at Simone. “Vivienne wanted me to sign such a contract when Simone and I, ah, decided to break up. I said no.” He couldn’t help the sarcasm dripping from his words.

Simone rolled her eyes. “Yeah.
We
broke up. Asshole.”

He deserved that, but now, something different glimmered in her eyes. Would the fact that he’d saved her life soften her toward him? God, he hoped so. “I guess Viv’s plan for you to mate with a full-bred witch and not one of us mongrels hasn’t come to fruition?” Nick kept his voice level, but bitterness still ate through him.

Bear snorted. “You ended it because of Viv?”

“No. I had a job to do that didn’t allow any entanglements, and I truly thought it was for Simone’s best,” Nick said.

“You fucking prick,” Simone spat. “Nobody protects me for my own good. We are so done.”

Nick turned and met her gaze evenly, feeling hope for the first time in way too long. They’d both been through rough times, but maybe this was their reward. Perhaps, just perhaps, fate was rewarding him with a second chance. “We are by no means over,” he murmured.

The clouds disappeared from Bear’s eyes. “You’re not over?” His entire body visibly relaxed. Then he threw back his head and laughed, long and loud.

The door opened, and a soldier gestured toward Simone. “Ms. Brightston? It’s time for you to face the Coven Nine.”

“Councilwoman Brightston,” Nick said evenly, stepping in front of her.

The soldier flushed. “My apologies, Councilwoman. It’s time to meet the members.”

“I
am
one of the members of the Coven Nine.” She stood, her chin high.

“Yes, ma’am.” The soldier stepped back.

Both Nick and Bear moved into motion, and the soldier shook his head. “Ms. Brightston alone.”

“No.” Nick stepped in front of her. “Pursuant to Coven Law, Title Eighteen, Section Four, Subsection D, Councilwoman Brightston is allowed a representative at the reading of any charges. I’m her representative.”

Simone paused. “You’ve been studying Coven law?”

He looked over his shoulder. “I figured it would come in handy at some point. Look. It has.” He turned back to face the guard.

The guard sputtered and then drew his shoulders up. “You’re a demon.”

“No shit.” Nick planted both hands on his hips. “Nowhere in the Coven laws does it specify that only witches can serve as representatives. So get the hell out of my way before I melt your small brain out of your ears.”

Simone cleared her throat. “Nick, I can handle this.”

“You’re not handling this on your own.” He didn’t bother to look over his shoulder this time.

“I agree,” Bear said, moving to her side.

Okay, that wouldn’t work. She patted his arm. “Both of you need to butt out.”

Nick turned then, facing her fully and ignoring the guard. “We can do this the easy way or my way, woman.”

Fire gathered inside her. Damn it. She had to stay calm, and right now, Nick was as solid as a brick wall. She couldn’t go through him. “Excuse me?” Her voice dripped with sarcasm.

“We go nicely, or you enter the chambers over my shoulder. Either way, I’m going.” His jaw hardened to what looked like sheer rock.

Bear leaned around her to get her attention. “I hate to agree with the demon, but you can’t go by yourself. We should all go.”

Simone nearly cracked a tooth by clenching her teeth. She had to protect Bear. “All right. Nick can come as my representative, but Bear, you need to stay here.”

“Why?” Nick asked.

“Because my mother has a bounty on his head,” Simone snapped. Damn men. She shoved a wayward tendril of hair out of her eyes. “Plus, apparently he has other enemies here that he hasn’t shared with us.”

“Everything is fine,” Bear muttered.

“Sure it is.” Simone shoved Nick in the back. “If we’re going to go, let’s do this.” She forced a smile for her brother. They’d stayed in touch through the years, but she’d always wanted to be closer. “By the way, I’ve missed you.”

His ears turned red. “Me too.”

“Jesus.” Nick reached back for her hand and started forward, all but dragging her along. She tried to tug free, and his grip tightened.

“Let go,” she hissed, drawing up alongside him.

“No.” His stride didn’t shorten, and she had to quicken her pace to keep from tripping.

The familiar rock around her did little to soothe her nerves, yet she kept her face set in calm lines. They passed priceless oil paintings, sculptures, and prints set perfectly against the smooth rock walls, while immaculate maroon carpets cushioned their steps. The guard led them through the labyrinth of underground tunnels, obviously one of the few soldiers who knew the path.

“Tell me about entering the council rooms,” Nick said, his gaze straying to a Vicente Voltolini landscape on the far wall.

“What do you mean?” Simone asked.

“The veil. Tell me about the veil and how to survive going through it.” His hand tightened around hers.

She tripped as they reached the end of the tunnel, and the guard maneuvered a bunch of rocks against the stone into the correct formation.

The stone slowly slid open. “Wait in there for them to get you,” the guard said. “Ma’am,” he added quickly when Nick snarled.

Nick led the way inside a waiting room set with plush blue furniture, gold accents, and a Persian rug. “You witches sure like it fancy,” he muttered, releasing her hand and crossing to the closed door on the other side. “Tell me about the veil.” He turned to face her, arms crossed.

She slowly shook her head, awareness crashing through her. “You’re expecting to go through the veil?”

His head tilted ever so slightly. “Well, yes. We’re entering the chambers, right?”

“Yes.” Heat filled her lungs. The veil was a protective shield of cosmic forces that protected the entrance to the chamber, and it could rip a person apart without leaving a trace. He’d thought to brave the veil just to be her representative? Why? Why would he take such a chance? “The only non-witch ever to survive the veil was Conn Kayrs, and he had been mated to witch Moira Dunne for a century. He barely survived.”

“I know. Now tell me what I need to understand,” Nick said, his eyes blazing.

“Nick.” She shook her head. “You’re not going through the veil.” She held up a hand to stop him as he began to argue. “We put in a back door to the chamber after Moira insisted that Conn accompany her on missions.” Moira, Simone’s cousin, was an Enforcer, and her vampire mate just had to tag along. “This is the back entrance. No veils.”

He blinked and uncrossed his arms. “That’s a security risk.”

“One we had to take.” She lifted a shoulder. “There’s plenty of security, in case you missed the crazy maze we had to go through to get here. Plus, there were several coded doors we went through before reaching the last room.” The emotional armor shielding her started to crack, and she scrambled to hold herself together. “You really can’t have meant to risk your life like that.”

He moved then, coming at her. “You’re not doing this alone.”

She shook her head, wanting to back up, but her feet remained frozen in place. “Nick, no—”

“Yes.” He paused in front of her, gently grasping her chin. “I’m familiar with your laws, all laws, actually. I will represent you, but you have to make me one promise.”

Butterflies blasted through her abdomen. “What promise?”

“If it looks like things are going south, and I have a chance to get you out of Ireland, you let me.”

What? She tried to shake her head, but he held her easily in place. “I’m not running. What are you planning?”

“Backup plan,
Zaychik moy
.” His gaze dropped to her mouth. “I always have a backup plan. You know that.”

She swallowed, suddenly feeling too warm. “I will not run.”

“You’ll do what I tell you to do, if it means surviving.” No give showed on his face.

Temper, finally, took over her emotions. Flames shot down her arms. “You do not tell me what to do.”

“There it is.” He leaned down and brushed his lips over hers. “Keep that anger with you today. I have a feeling we’ll both need it.”

Her temper flew. Oh yeah? Man, she was tired of him messing with her equilibrium. She was Simone Brightston, for Christ’s sake. Time to throw him off balance. She grabbed the back of his head and lifted up, angling her lips perfectly inside of his. Her eyelids fluttered shut, and she slid her tongue inside his mouth.

He stiffened, his lips nearly pressing into a line.

She smiled just enough to let him know he couldn’t fool her. Nicholai Veis had forgotten whom he was dealing with. She wasn’t some wilting human female who wouldn’t bite back. She was Simone Brightston, member of the Coven Nine, and a badass, bitchy witch. Her tongue flicked along his bottom lip, then she slowly, so damn slowly, moved away.

She leaned back, satisfaction relaxing every muscle in her body. If the demon thought he could take the upper hand with her, he’d forgotten her power.

His lids were half-closed, and a fire burned in those dark eyes. Crimson darkened his high cheekbones, and his nostrils flared like a panther catching a scent. Tension emanated from him in waves.

Her mouth curved in a smile. Triumph felt good.

Then he moved.

Faster than any shifter, he clamped both hands on her arms and lifted, shoving her against the rock wall. She let out a startled
eek
, her hands fluttering in protest to his rigid biceps.

Held half a foot off the ground, she barely had time to register her position before his mouth crashed down on hers.

Fire exploded inside her, burning and spiraling out. He kissed her hard, going deep, banishing every thought she’d ever had. Sensations, dark and demanding, softened her muscles. She moaned, overtaken with impossible need.

Hunger, so strong it clawed, stole all rationality from her.

The pain of the instant craving fired through her, bringing a shot of true fear. Her body was taking over, and nothing else mattered.

As if he sensed her fear, he softened his assault, reducing the pressure and drawing her away from the edge. His mouth still worked hers, showing her the devastating pleasure to be found in his gentleness. The warmth spiraled around and spread through her chest.

He brushed his knuckles across the tops of her breasts.

They ached, heavy and full, her nipples hardening to sharp points.

He released her mouth, and she gasped in breath. Her lungs wouldn’t fill with air. His thumb slid beneath her bustier and ran across a nipple.

She gasped, and her legs trembled.

He watched her, lust shining in those dark eyes. Several deep breaths moved his broad chest.

She swallowed. Instinct kept her still. One move, just one movement, and they wouldn’t be able to stop.
She
wouldn’t be able to stop.

Slowly, with perfect control, he lowered her to the ground.

The second her feet touched, reality slammed home. “We can’t do this,” she whispered, her voice hoarse.

He released her and stepped back. “Not here, anyway.”

“Not anywhere.”

“Why not?” He straightened his tie, his gaze unrelenting.

Was he kidding her? “You’re a bastard.”

“Not technically, but I sure as hell acted like one. I’ve explained that. Fate gave me no other choice. Plus, you’ve had a century to forgive me. Time’s up.”

Panic still threatened to swamp her. “I appreciate that you saved me with my nutjob father.” Truth be told, she wasn’t happy she hadn’t taken him out herself. “But you and I were finished a long time ago.”

He shook his head. “The war is over, we’re allies, you’ve forgiven me, and now it’s time to deal, little bunny.”

That’s exactly what scared her. She’d never been able to handle Nicholai Veis, and now, with the Guard after her, wasn’t the time to try. “No.”

He lifted an eyebrow. “You’ve never been a coward. Now’s not the time to start.”

What an ass. She parted her lips to say something, anything, but the outside door opened.

 

Nick fully understood Simone’s reluctance to delve back into the quagmire of their wild relationship, but sometimes risks paid off. He’d seen it happen with Zane, and although Nick had maneuvered the chess pieces the best he knew how, he still never expected to succeed the way they had. Zane was now mated and even had a daughter.

Sometimes life worked out, even for the wounded and desperate.

He fought the urge to step in front of Simone just in case an attack waited on the other end of what turned out to be a long hallway. These were her people, and she had to face them without a shield.

For the moment, anyway.

If anybody threatened her, he’d become more than a mere shield.

Dim light filtered down and barely pierced the darkness on either side of the hall.

“Keep your steps on the carpet,” Simone whispered back. “One inch off, and weapons discharge from the walls.”

Fucking witches. “Great,” Nick drawled, his shoulders tightening to stone. Magic, the ancient and rational kind, surrounded him with threat. While the veil might be somewhere else, power vibrated against his skin, raising goose bumps. There was no doubt his energy, that of a demon, did not belong in this place.

A door at the end slid open silently, and he followed Simone into the underground chamber very few non-witches had ever seen.

The headquarters of the Council of the Coven Nine.

Even with magic nipping at him, he was somewhat disappointed. In the center of the room was a raised rock dais complete with long counter and nine high-backed velvet chairs. Empty chairs. Twin tables, divided by a walkway, faced the dais. Just like a modern courtroom. “Shouldn’t there be bats flying around and cats howling?” he whispered.

Simone’s shoulders straightened, and she approached the nearest table, drawing out a seat. Nick naturally sought out the exits, but there weren’t any. A quick glance behind him confirmed that the door he’d passed through no longer existed.

Wonderful.

He slid out the seat next to Simone and drummed his fingers on the stone. “Where is everybody?”

She stared straight ahead and clasped her hands together on the table. “We like to make an entrance.”

Oh yeah. The smooth wall behind the chairs parted, and three people walked through to take seats facing them. Peter Gallagher, Nessa Lansa, and Sal Donny, all members of the Nine, calmly watched him. He’d read extensive dossiers on Peter and Sal, but he’d never met them in person. Nessa had just been appointed to fill a vacancy, and he didn’t know anything about her. The door slid closed.

Simone drew in a sharp breath and stood.

“What?” Nick whispered, also standing.

She shook her head and visibly swallowed.

“Where are the other five members?” Nick asked, his back rigid. Even though Simone obviously couldn’t sit on the council right now, there should still be eight people passing judgment.

Peter sat in the middle at the head council’s position. “This is not common knowledge, but Council members Louise Fronts and Frances Murphy were attacked a fortnight ago with darts filled with planekite. Many darts, and they’re both in comas.” Anger lowered the witch’s voice to a growl. “The outlook is not good.”