Dead After Dark by Sherrilyn Kenyon

  "You didn't feel that way twenty-four hours ago."

  "You're right. But you've opened my eyes. What Dare is trying to do is wrong. I can't believe I've ruined that poor lion's life. God, how I wish I could go back and shove Dare when he fired the gun so that he'd miss."

  Fury's face went stark white. "Dare killed an unarmed lion?"

  "No, that was the jackal. Dare shot the one who lived."

  "And your part in all this?"

  "Stupid onlooker who thought she was going to make the world safe for other little girls so that they wouldn't have to watch their family get eaten. I didn't realize that I was fighting for the monsters and not against them."

  Fury sighed. "Dare's not a monster. He's just an insecure asshole who wanted his mother to love him."

  "And what about you?"

  "I was an insecure asshole who knew he could never get too close to his mother for fear she'd smell the wolf on him and kill him."

  She pulled him into her arms to kiss his lips. "Mate with me, Fury."

  "You're a bossy thing, aren't you?"

  "Only when there's something I want." She looked at the bed. "Shouldn't we get naked?"

  He put his hands on her arms and held her back. "We have to settle this first. I want to make sure that you're mating with me out of choice and not out of fear."

  "Don't you think I'm smart enough to know the difference?"

  "I'm the one who has to be sure of your motivation."

  Because he still didn't trust her. The sad thing was, she couldn't blame him. "Very well then. How do we end this?"

  "I think I have an idea."

  Angelia sat downstairs with Fang sniffing at her hand.

  "No wonder he was acting so weird. The bastard's mated."

  "Fang!" Bride snapped at him. "Leave the poor woman alone, or at least congratulate her."

  "On what? Being mated to Fury seems like a nightmare to me."

  There was a time Angelia would have agreed. Strange how she no longer did. "Your brother is a wonderful wolf."

  Bride smiled approvingly.

  "So where is lover-wolf, anyway?"

  "He said he was going to see a friend about getting the lions off my trail."

  Fang's face blanched.

  "What?" Angelia asked, immediately scared by his reaction.

  "Fury doesn't have any friends."

  Why would he have lied to her? Dear gods, what was he doing? "Then where is he?"

  The question had barely left her lips before Vane appeared. He glared at her before he turned to Fang. "I need you at the Omegrion. Now."

  Fang frowned. "What's going on?"

  "Fury has turned himself in as the one who maimed the lion."

  Angelia shot to her feet. "What?!"

  "You heard me! Stupid idiot. I've been summoned by Savitar who asked me to bring any witnesses who can testify to his innocence."

  Fang cursed. "Where was he when it happened?"

  "I don't know."

  Fang shot to his feet. "I'm going."

  They started to leave.

  "Don't forget me." Angelia moved to stand in front of Vane.

  Vane hesitated.

  Fang gave him a stern look. "She's his mate, V. Let her come."

  Nodding, he took her with them to Savitar's island and into the chamber room where the Omegrion met and decided the laws that governed all lycanthropes. All her life, Angelia had heard stories about this place. Never had she thought to see it.

  Here the Regis, one representative for each branch of the Katagaria and Arcadians, met. It was amazing to her that they didn't fight. But then that was why Savitar was here.

  More like a referee, Savitar held the final fate of all of them in his hands. The only problem was no one really knew what Savitar was. Or even where he came from.

  "Where's Fury?" she asked Vane.

  "I don't know."

  "Are all the members here?"

  He scanned the group. "All but Fury."

  Before she could ask another question, she felt a ripple of power behind her. Turning, she found an unbelievably gorgeous man there. At least six-feet-eight, he had long dark hair and a goatee. Dressed in surf clothes, he eyed her suspiciously.

  "You have your witnesses, Wolf?" he asked Vane.

  "I do."

  "Then let's proceed." He walked past the round table where the Omegrion members sat and took a seat on a throne that was set apart.

  "Savitar?" she asked Vane.

  He nodded.

  Damn. He was scary.

  Savitar let out a long, exaggerated sigh. "I know everyone here wants to be somewhere else. Trust me. So do I. But for those who haven't heard and you'd have to live under a rock . . ." He looked over to the Arcadian Hawk Regis and hesitated. "Okay, so some of you do, which is why I have to explain this. It appears some of our good Arcadians have created and now used a weapon that can take away your preternatural abilities and lock you into your base form."

  Several members sucked their breaths in sharply.

  Savitar nodded. "Yeah, it sucks. Two days ago, a couple of bastards decided to go hunting. I have the head of two of the four people responsible." He indicated the lions to his left. "The family of the victim wants the other two. Dead. But tortured first. I can respect that."

  "Do we hunt?" Nicolette Peltier asked.

  "No. It seems one of those responsible has come forward to turn himself in. He claims he killed the fourth member and doesn't want to run."

  "Where is he?" Paris's brother demanded.

  "Wait your turn, Lion, or I'll be wearing your eyeballs as jewelry."

  The lion backed down immediately.

  Savitar snapped his fingers, and Fury appeared before his throne in chains.

  Angelia started for him, only to have Vane stop her.

  Fury did a doubletake as he saw her. "Dammit, Vane, I told you not to--" A muzzle appeared on his face.

  Savitar glared at him. "Next person or animal who interrupts me is going to get gutted."

  Fury's gaze was locked on hers. Don't speak, he projected to her. It's better this way. Trust me. You can go home and have your life back.

  Was he out of his mind?

  That thought died as she saw Dare appear next to Fury.

  Savitar eyed Dare with contempt. "We have a witness who swears he saw Fury in the act. Since that corroborates what Fury has said, I suppose your vote on his fate will be an easy one. Unless someone in the room has something more to add."

  Sasha stepped forward. "Fury didn't do it. He's protecting someone. I know him. I might not like his ass, but I know he's innocent. I was there at Sanctuary when he saw the lion and he knew nothing about it."

  "It's true," Nicolette Peltier said. "I, too, saw him. He told me he would find the one responsible and make them pay."

  Savitar stroked his chin. "Interesting, isn't it? What do you have to say about that, Fury?"

  The muzzle vanished. "They're on crack."

  Savitar shook his head. "Anyone else on crack?"

  Tears stung Angelia's eyes at the sacrifice Fury was willing to make. But she couldn't let him do this. Looking down, she traced his symbol in her palm.

  It would have been her greatest honor to be his mate and have his children.

  If only it could have been.

  "Fury's innocent," she said, stepping forward. "He confessed to save--"

  "Me."

  Angelia froze in shock as Dare cleared his throat.

  "What was that?" Savitar asked.

  Dare glanced to her, then looked at Fury. "I'm the one who fired the shot that maimed the lion. The one who killed the other is already dead."

  "And the others?"

  "Also dead."

  Fury shook his head at Dare. "Why are you doing this?"

  "Because it was my wrongdoing, and I refuse to have an animal show me up by being noble. Fuck you."

  "We had a bargain," Fury said under his breath.

  "I'm altering it." Dare looked back at A
ngelia. "It's time for once that I did the right thing for the right reasons."

  Savitar folded his arms over his chest. "We have another confession from Dare Kattalakis. Going once, going twice . . . are there any more confessions in the room? Anyone else want to admit to shooting a lion?" He paused. "Didn't think so."

  The lions moved forward. "Then he's ours."

  Savitar shook his head. "Actually, he's mine. Sorry. You've already taken the heads of two Arcadians. Be glad I don't demand justice for their families. We're going to assume they were guilty, but without a trial . . ."

  The lions looked less than pleased, but no one dared to question him.

  "As for this little toy they used, don't worry. I've already made sure the inventor doesn't invent anything else. I have my people tracking down the handful he sold and we should have them destroyed soon. In the meantime . . ."

  Dare vanished, and Fury's shackles melted.

  "Omegrion is adjourned."

  The council members flashed out.

  Except for the wolves and Nicolette. Fury walked over to where they were standing. He held his hand out to Sasha. "Thanks."

  "No problem. And we're still not friendly."

  Fury's eyes danced with humor. "Yeah, you prick, I hate your guts." He looked at Nicolette. "It was decent of you, too, to speak up."

  "You are still banned from my house . . . unless you're wounded." She teleported out.

  Fury shook his head, then looked at her. All humor died. "You were going to turn yourself in to save me."

  "I told you, Fury. I will always stand at your back."

  He took her hands into his and then kissed each one in turn. "My back isn't where I want you."

  She arched a brow. "No? Where would you prefer me, then?" She expected him to say under him--it was what an Arcadian male would say.

  But he didn't.

  "I want you at my side. Always."

  "Ugh," Fang groused. "Wolves, get a room."

  Angelia smiled. "Sounds like a great idea."

  The next thing she knew, they were home.

  Savitar didn't move as he watched the last of the wolves clear the room. The moment it was empty, he felt a power surge next to him.

  It was Zarek.

  "Sasha went home, Z."

  "Yeah, I know. I was checking with you about our earlier discussion."

  "My demons got most of the weapons."

  "But . . ."

  "There are still a few out there."

  Zarek cursed. "If Sasha gets nailed with one, Astrid will lose her mind."

  "Believe me, Z, I know." Savitar looked out toward the clear horizon, but inside, he knew the same thing that Zarek did. There was a storm brewing. Fierce and violent.

  They'd stopped this minor bout. But it was nothing compared to the one that was coming.

  Fury lay in bed, naked, with Angelia on top of him. Their palms were still pressed together from their mating ritual.

  "I still can't believe you would have died so that I could go home."

  "I can't believe you were going to call me a liar and take my place under the guillotine. Next time I try to save you, woman, you better stay saved."

  She laughed, then nipped at his chin. "I shall promise to behave, on only one condition."

  "And that is?"

  "That you bond your life force to mine."

  He scowled at her. "Why is that so important to you?"

  She swallowed against the lump in her throat. "Don't you know?"

  "No."

  "Because I love you, Wolf, and I don't ever want to spend another day in this life without you. Where you den, I den, and when you die, I die, too."

  Fury looked up at her in disbelief. In all his life, he'd only ever wanted one thing.

  And Lia had just given it to him. A woman he could love and depend on.

  "For you, my lady wolf, I would do anything."

  Anglia smiled as she felt him growing hard again. Kissing his hand, she knew that this time they wouldn't just have sex. This time they would be joined throughout all eternity.

  THE STORY OF SON

  by

  J.R. Ward

  For my family,

  both those of blood and choice,

  with all my love.

  1

  Claire Stroughton palmed her travel mug without looking up from the will she'd drafted and was reviewing.

  "I hate when you do that."

  Claire glanced across her office at her executive assistant. "Do what?"

  "That heat-seeking missile routine with your coffee."

  "My mug and I have a very close relationship."

  Martha pushed her sleek glasses up on her nose. "Then good thing it's got a lid. You're going to be late for your five o'clock if you don't leave now."

  Claire stood and pulled on her suit jacket. "How bad's the time?"

  "Two twenty-nine. Drive to Caldwell is a minimum of two hours plus in this traffic and your car is waiting for you down in front. Your conference call with London is scheduled for sixteen . . . fifteen minutes from now. What kind of cleanup do you need me to do before the long weekend?"

  "I've reviewed the revised merger documents for Technitron and I'm not impressed." Claire passed over a stack of paper big enough to be used as a doorstop. "Courier them down to 50 Wall now. I need a meeting with opposing counsel seven a.m. Tuesday morning. They come to us. Do I owe you anything before I go?"

  "No, but you can tell me something. What kind of sadistic bore schedules a meeting with their lawyer for five o'clock on the Friday of Labor Day weekend?"

  "Client's always right. And sadistic is in the eye of the beholder." Claire packed up the will in a document case then grabbed her Birkin bag. As she looked around her spacious office, she tried to think of the work she planned to do over the weekend. "What am I forgetting?"

  "Pill."

  "Right, right." Claire used what was left in her mug to polish off the prescription she'd been working her way through for the last ten days. As she pitched the orange bottle in the wastepaper basket, she realized she hadn't sneezed or coughed since Sunday. Stuff had worked evidently.

  Damn airplanes. Germ pools with wings.

  "Walk with me." Claire gave a couple more marching orders on the way to the elevator, all the while waving to some of the two hundred-odd attorneys and support staff that worked at Williams, Nance & Stroughton. Martha kept pace with her in spite of the load of paper in her arms, but then that was what was great about the woman. No matter what, she was always there.

  At the bank of elevators, Claire punched the down button. "Okay, I think that's it. Hope you have a good weekend."

  "You, too. Try and take a break, would you?"

  Claire stepped into the mahogany-paneled lift. "Can't. We have Technitron on Tuesday. I'm going to spend most of my weekend here."

  Four minutes later she was in her Mercedes inching forward in the Manhattan traffic, trying to get out of the city. Eleven minutes after that she was being patched into London.

  The conference call lasted fifty-three minutes and it was a good thing she was basically in a parking lot because the virtual meeting didn't go well. Which was pretty common. Mergers and acquisitions of billion-dollar companies were never easy and not for the faint of heart. Her father had taught her that.

  Still, it was a relief to hang up and just focus on driving. Caldwell, New York, was probably only a hundred miles from downtown, but Martha was right. Traffic was a bitch. Apparently everyone and their uncle was trying to peel out of the Big Apple and they were all using the same route as Claire.

  Normally, she wouldn't be taking the time to drive to see a client in a private home, but Miss Leeds was a special case for a lot of reasons and it wasn't like the woman could come down to the office easily. She was what? Ninety-one now?

  Christ, maybe she was even older. Claire's father had been the woman's lawyer forever and after he'd died two years ago, Claire had inherited Miss Leeds along with his equity in the famil
y firm. When she'd taken his seat at the partners' table, she became the first female in the history of Williams, Nance & Stroughton to park it in the boardroom, but she'd earned that right, in spite of what Walter Stroughton's will said. She was a fantastic M&A lawyer. Second to very, very few.

  Miss Leeds was her only trusts and estates client, which had been the same for Claire's father. The elderly woman was worth close to two hundred million dollars, thanks to her family's interests in a variety of companies, all of which were represented by WN&S. These holdings were the heart of the relationship. Miss Leeds believed in sticking with what she knew and her family had been with the firm since its inception in 1911. So there you had it. An M&A rock star doing T&E for an NHC.

  Or in human speak: a mergers and acquisitions specialist doing trusts and estates work for a nursing home candidate.

  Believe it or not, the interaction algebra added up. The will and the trusts in it were fairly straightforward once you got familiar with them and Miss Leeds was easygoing compared to most of Claire's corporate clients. The woman was also good for business when it came to that will of hers. She approached revisions of it the way some people got into gardening, and at $650 an hour for Claire's time, the billable hours added up. Miss Leeds was constantly reworking the charitable portion of her estate, tilling that section, trimming and replanting the philanthropies as she changed her mind. The last two alterations Claire had handled over the phone, so when Miss Leeds had asked for a personal meeting this time, there was every reason to go up for a quick visit.

  Hopefully it would be quick.

  Claire had only been out to the Leeds estate once before, to introduce herself after her father's death. The meeting had gone well. Miss Leeds evidently had seen pictures of Claire through her father and had approved of Claire's "ladylike deportment."

  Which was a joke. Although it was true that clothes could make both the man and the woman, and Claire's wardrobe was full of conservative suits with below-the-knee skirts, that was surface gloss. She had her father's head for business and his aggressive streak, too. She might look like a lady from her chignon to her sensible pumps, but on the inside she was a killer.

  Most people picked up on her true nature about two minutes after meeting her and not just because she was a brunette. But it was a good thing Miss Leeds was fooled. She was from the old school and then some--part of a generation where proper women didn't work at all, much less as high-powered attorneys in Manhattan. Frankly, Claire had been surprised Miss Leeds hadn't gone with one of the other partners, but the two of them did get along for the most part. So far, the only hiccup in the relationship had occurred during that first face-to-face when the woman had asked whether Claire was married.