We stood in a narrow hallway. There was a door at either end, one showing the cold night through its glass window, the other closed, a question mark.
Raina closed the door behind us, leaning on it. She seemed to collapse against it, head hanging down, hair spilling forward.
"Are you all right?" I asked.
She took a deep, shuddering breath and looked up at me.
I gasped. I couldn't help myself.
She was gorgeous. Her cheekbones were high and sculpted. Her eyes wider and more centered in her face. She looked like what might have been her sister, a family resemblance but not the same person.
"What did you just do?"
She gave that rich, bedroom laugh again. "I am alpha, Ms. Blake. I can do a great many things that most shifters cannot."
I was willing to bet that. "You moved your bones around, on purpose, like do-it-yourself cosmetic surgery."
"Very good, Ms. Blake, very good." Her amber-brown eyes flashed to Irving. The smile left her face. "Do you still insist on this one being at the meeting?"
"Yes, I do."
Her lips pursed, as though she'd tasted something sour. "Marcus said to ask, then to bring you." She shrugged, and stood away from the door. She was taller by about three inches. I wished I'd paid more attention to her hands. Had they changed, too?
"Why the body sculpting?" I asked.
"The other form is my day form. This is real."
"Why the disguise?"
"In case I have to do something nefarious," she said.
Nefarious?
She stalked down the hall towards the other closed door. Her walk was a gliding, athletic movement like a big cat's. Or would that be big wolf's?
She knocked on the door. I heard nothing, but she opened the door. She stood there, arms crossed over her stomach, cradling her br**sts, smiling at us. I was beginning not to like Raina's smiles.
The room was a banquet hall with cloth-covered tables grouped in a horseshoe. A raised platform with four chairs and a lectern closed the mouth of the horseshoe. Two men stood on the platform. One was at least six feet tall, slender but muscled like a basketball player. His hair was black, cut short with a matching finger-thin mustache and goatee beard. He stood with one hand gripping his opposite wrist. A jock pose. A bodyguard pose.
He wore a skintight pair of black jeans, and a sweater with a black-on-black design clung to wide shoulders. There was a fringe of dark chest hair just above the scooped neckline. Black tooled cowboy boots and a large blocky watch completed the badass look.
The other man was no more than five foot seven. His hair was that funny shade of blond that has brown highlights in it, but still manages to be blond. The hair was short but styled and blow-dried, and would have been lovely to look at if it had been a little longer. His face was clean-shaven, square jawed, with a dimple in his chin. The dimple should have made the face look fun, but it didn't. It was a face for rules. Those thin lips were built for saying, my way or else.
He wore a pale blue linen suit jacket over black pants. A pale blue turtleneck that matched the jacket to perfection completed the outfit. His shoes were black and polished to a shine.
It had to be Marcus. "Alfred." One word, but it was an order. The bigger man stepped-leaped off the platform. It was a graceful, bounding movement. He moved in a cloud of his own vitality. It rolled and boiled around him almost like heat rising off pavement. You couldn't see it with the na**d eye, but you could sure as hell feel it.
Alfred came at me as though he had a purpose. I put my back to the wall, keeping Raina in sight, along with everybody else. Irving moved back with me. He stood a little away from all of us, but closer to me than anyone.
I put the trench coat back so the gun showed plainly. "Your intentions better be friendly, Alfred."
"Alfred," the other man said. One word, even the tone sounded the same, but this time Alfie stopped in his tracks. He stood, staring at me. His eyes weren't neutral, they were hostile. People don't usually dislike me on sight. But hey, I wasn't too thrilled with him, either.
"We have not offered you violence, Ms. Blake," Marcus said.
"Yeah, right. Alfie there is contained violence in motion. I want to know what his intentions are before he comes closer."
Marcus looked at me as if I'd done something interesting. "A very apt description, Ms. Blake. You can see our auras, then?"
"If that's what you want to call it," I said.
"Alfred's intentions are not hostile. He will merely search you for weapons. It is standard procedure for nonshifters. It is nothing personal, I assure you."
The very fact that they didn't want me armed made me want to keep my weapons. Stubbornness, or a strong survival instinct.
"Maybe I'd agree to being searched if you explained why I'm here first." Stall, until I could decide what to do.
"We don't discuss business in front of the press, Ms. Blake."
"Well, I'm not talking to you without him."
"I will not jeopardize all of us to satisfy idle curiosity." He was still standing on the platform like a general surveying his troops.
"The only reason I'm here at all is because Irving is a friend. Insulting him isn't going to endear you to me."
"I do not wish to endear myself to you, Ms. Blake. I wish your aid."
"You want my help?" I didn't try to keep the surprise out of my voice.
He gave a brief nod.
"What kind of help?"
"He must leave."
"No," I said.
Raina pushed away from the wall and stalked around us, just out of reach, but circling like a shark. "Irving's punishment could begin now." Her voice was low and puffing around the edges.
"I didn't know wolves purred," I said.
She laughed. "Wolves do a lot of things, as I'm sure you're aware."
"I don't know what you mean."
"Oh, come now, woman to woman." She leaned one shoulder against the wall, arms crossed, face friendly. I was betting she could bite my finger off and smile just like that the entire time.
She bent close as if we were sharing secrets. "Richard is as good as he looks, isn't he?"
I stared into her amused eyes. "I don't kiss and tell."
"I'll tell you my juicy tidbit, if you'll tell me yours."
"Raina, enough." Marcus had moved forward to the edge of the stage. He didn't look happy.
She gave him a lazy smile. She was baiting him more than me, and enjoying it very much.
"Irving must leave, and Alfred must search you for weapons. There is no negotiating those two points."
"I'll make you a deal," I said. "Irving leaves now, but he goes home. No punishment."
Marcus shook his head. "I have decreed he will be punished. My word is law."
"Who died and made you king?"
"Simon," Raina said.
I blinked at her.
"He fought and killed Simon. That's who died and made him pack leader."
Ask a silly question... "You want my help, Irving goes free and untouched. No punishment."
"Don't do this, Anita," Irving said. "You'll just make things worse."
Raina stayed leaning beside me. Just a little girl talk. "He's right, you know. Right now he's mine to play with, but if you make Marcus really angry he'll give him to Alfred. I'll torture his mind and body. Alfred will break him."
"Irving goes free, no punishment. I stay and let Alfred search me for weapons. Otherwise we walk."
"Not we, Ms. Blake. You are free to go, but Irving is mine. He will stay, and with or without you he will be taught his lesson."
"What did he do wrong?" I asked.
"That is our business, not yours."
"I'm not going to help you do shit."
"Then go," he leaped gracefully off the stage, walking towards us as he spoke, "but Irving stays. You are only among us for this one night. He must live with us, Ms. Blake. He cannot afford your bravado."
The last sentence brought him just a little behind Alfred. Close up there were fine lines around his eyes and mouth, a slackness to the skin of his neck and jaws. I added ten years to his age. Fifties.
"I can't leave Irving here, knowing what you'll do to him."
"Oh, you have no idea what we'll do to him," Raina said. "We heal so well." She pushed away from the wall and walked to Irving. She paced round him in a tight circle, shoulder, hip, brushing against him, here and there as she moved. "Even the weakest of us can take so very much damage."