Chapter 29

“Youknow,” Az muses as we drive to meet the Patriarch of the Herd, “I could justcall Olivet and ask him who is directing him. You heard how eager he was torescue me from your den of iniquity. I can play on that.”

Yeah,that’s going to happen over my very dead body. I tell her as much. I don’t wanther have any more contact with Olivet than absolutely necessary. I don’t want of my people to have contact withOlivet. Something about how he’s tried to kill my pack and is an all-aroundpain in my ass just rubs me the wrong way.

“Helikes me,” she mutters.

“I’mnot sure that’s an argument in favor of his sanity, Princess.”

Sheprops her elbow on the door and then props her chin on her fist. Her eyes are fixedon the passing scenery. Not quite a full-blown sulk. Just enough to let me knowshe doesn’t appreciate my sarcasm. Poor Princess can dish it out this morning,but she’s not fond of taking it. Too damn bad.

Thenagain, in the clarifying light of day, I have to seriously consider theconnection she’s developed with Olivet. My gut reaction is to forbid her toever speak to the warlock again. Normally, I trust my gut instinct, but Az’sinvolvement negates any objectivity I might have. Do I want her to stay awayfrom Olivet because he’s a power-hungry, murdering bastard, or do I want her tostay away from him because he made her smile and he understands her world ofmagic and rites?

Probablya combination of the two. With a dash of “because I’m Alpha and I said so”thrown in.

“I’mnot going to let him actually rescue me,” she says in that tone that implies myintelligence level falls somewhere between amoeba and algae.

“Damnstraight you’re not. We’ve discussed your role in this fucked up fairytale.”

Shehuffs. “Remember that thing I said about liking you?”

“Yeah?”

“Itake it back.”

“Whatwas it you told me after you brazenly defied my order?” I pause until she turnsaway from the window to arch an eyebrow at me. I pitch my voice so that itmatches hers. “

Shemanages to keep a straight face for a heartbeat or two. The grin that stretchesacross her face is one I’ll never tire of seeing. “You are such a dork, Ricky.”

I bite my tongue to keep from spitting outsomething stupid like or .We’re not six. We’re quite past the phase where the only way I can show myaffection is to pull her ponytail or steal her juice box. She makes me long forthe childhood I never got to have, though. When I am with her, I don’t feellike just the Alpha.

Proximity to Az, apparently, turns meinto a romantic, silly sop.

It’s early enough in the morning that theparking lot in front of the Astrodome is nearly empty. When the Astrodome wasslated for demolition, the paranormal community pooled its resources topurchase the building. There is no formal council that governs the PC inHouston, but the heads of each group get together once a month or so to discusshow best to wield their political power. I make it to every other meeting.

The pack has ten designated parkingspots, but I don’t think we’ve ever used more than two on any occasion. I’veonly seen the inside of my office a dozen times. I’ve considered making that myofficial business office. It would keep potentially difficult clients away fromthe house. Given that all that’s gone on with the not-Shifters and Sally, it’san idea I need to seriously revisit.

Az’s hand slides against mine as soon asshe rounds the front of my truck. The impractical outfit consists of jeans and a dark blue sleeveless shirt. Whathad looked like a professional-looking blouse when held up on a hangar, has adraped v-neck that borders on indecent. The material is too gauzy to provideany actual protection. Unfortunately, the overly complicated braid Jose twistedher hair into took far longer than expected, so there hadn’t been time to forceher to change clothes.

“I brought a cardigan,” she says, holdingup a ball of white cotton.

“I didn’t say anything. If you want tocatch pneumonia then go for it. Just don’t expect me to bring you soup oranything.”

“You were glaring at my breasts.” Sheskips to keep up with my stride. “Not exactly the reaction I was expecting. Youdon’t like my shirt, do you?”

“I have no opinion.”

“Liar.”

“Smart,” I correct. “The best way to wina fashion debate is to concede early.”

Her laughter follows us into the lobby. Thebright, joyful sound turns more than a few heads. Rachael, the pixie seatedbehind the massive marble-topped reception desk flashes Az a polite, but cool,smile.

“Good morning, Rick. Identification,ma’am?”

Az releases her grip on me to fish herpack id card out of her massive tote. She slides the card across the desk. “Goodmorning.”

Rachael takes the card without returningthe greeting. Her tiny fingers fly across a keyboard. “Animal?” she asks.

“Huh?” Az frowns up at me beforeshrugging. Her smile dims. “I don’t have one.”

“And you are a member of the PackHoustonian?” Rachael lifts a dark eyebrow.

“Yes.”

“What is your animal?”

Okay. I have to intervene before thisbecomes a never ending circle of questions. “She doesn’t have an animal, butshe’s a member of pack.”

Rachael nods tersely. “Noted.” She typesfor a few seconds before raising her head and addressing Az. “Look at thecamera on your left.”

Az turns; before she can smile, a flashgoes off. The printer near Rachael spits out a laminated security badge. Thepixie deftly secures a clip to the top of the badge before handing the badge toAz.

“This must be worn at all times when inthe building.” Gold pixie eyes flick over me. “Sorry, Rick. Rules are rules.”

I clip my badge to the front of my shirt.The weight of the badge pulls one side of Az’s neckline even lower. Of courseit does. My only hope is that it’s so cold in the Astrodome that she puts hercardigan on before she causes some poor soul to lose an eye or two courtesy ofmy fist.

“Is the Patriarch in?” I ask Rachael.

“Yes. He signed in at four o’clock thismorning.” Rachael’s eyes follow my hand as it settles on the small of Az’sback. Her polite smile turns downright frosty. “Will that be all?”

I can take a hint. So can Az, it seems. My void offers up hermost charming grin. She reaches out to pat Rachael’s hand.

“Bless your heart, Rachael. You have beenso very helpful this morning.” False sincerity oozes out of Az’s voice. “I willbe sure to let everyone know just how much I appreciate your effort to welcomeme to the community.”

Rachael’s mouth gapes open. Az pats her handagain. I steer Az away from the reception desk before the pixie can recover. It isn’t until we’re a good twenty feet fromthe desk that I slow to a stroll and give Az a quick tour of the place.

The interior’s been gutted and remodeledso heavily that it is unrecognizable as a sporting venue. The cafeteria locatedon the former playing field resembles a mall food court and caters to allparanormal subgroups. I caution Az against going near the Wok of Joy; Wendatseat some funky-smelling shit. The first level is also where the gym, bank,security station, small farmer’s market, and three of the five assembly roomsare located. The second floor consists mainly of shops. The third and fourthfloors are a labyrinth of hallways and offices. My two-room suite is on thefourth floor. As the centaur herd is larger than my pack, the Patriarchcommands a six-room network of connected rooms on the third floor.

I take Az to my office first because Idon’t want to see the disappointment in her face when she goes from thePatriarch’s lavishly decorated space to my underused suite. The sofa andrecliner in the front room are relics from my first apartment. The whiteplastic patio table, complete with faded red umbrella, and matching chairs arefrom Ike’s bachelor pad. No one knows where the ancient French presscoffeemaker or collection of novelty Houston mugs came from.

The bookshelf and desk in the rear officeare particleboard castoffs donated by Matt. I found the leather executive chairnear the dumpster behind an office plaza. The only thing on the walls is aplaque given to me by the Wveryn clan in Beaumont for preventing three of theireggs from being sold on the black market.

“I’ve seen mausoleums with more cheer,”Az remarks as she runs a finger through a thick layer of dust on the whitespeckled laminate countertop in the miniscule kitchenette. “Cleaner, too.”

“Tell you what, Princess, since yourdelicate sensibilities are offended by the lack of color and overabundance ofdust, why don’t I put you in charge of decorating and maintaining this space?”

She wipes her dirty finger on my lefthip. Her hand dips into my back pocket. “I think this is a decision you’llregret. Loudly.”

That makes two of us. I don’t fancystaring at pink walls. “I’m going to start using this as my main office so keepit tasteful. If I see R&A Investigations on the door, you’ll spend the nextmonth running with Greta and me.”

“Fine. Haskell Investigations is soboring, though. How about Mad Dog Inquiries?” she suggests with a grin. “Bloodhound,Inc? Watchdog?”

Like hell. “Two months of running plus KPduty.”

“Ha! From now on I will only think of youas Mr. Dully Dullman from Dullsville, Dullsvania.”

“Better than Ms. Crazypanties McNutjob of Bizzarotown.”

Warm lips brush across my cheek. Az’shand finds its way back into mine. The fingers of her other hand sink into myhair. “Such a dork,” she breathes against my cheek. She presses a lingering kissto my jaw. “And that shouldn’t be so attractive.”

“Come on, Princess. Best not keep thePatriarch waiting.”

I actually don’t give a flying fuck aboutkeeping the Patriarch waiting, but if we’re alone together for another minute Iwon’t stick to our seven month timeline. Waking up with her draped over me likea warm, sweet blanket played hell with my self-restraint, and I haven’t had achance to fully rebuild my defenses. The hallway is empty, but she snuggles asclose to my side as possible.

“Are the wards bothering you? Too muchmagic?” I had worried about this. The wards surrounding and inside the buildingare heavyweights. The magic from the ‘dome’s denizens has to be strong, too. Thereare at least four leprechauns in the bank downstairs at all times.

“I’m keyed onto your signature now, and Ican mostly control where I draw from if I stay focused.”

Yeah. It’s what happens if somethingmesses up that focus that I fear. I don’t have time for a less-than-sane Az. Idon’t have the resources to adequately protect her when she’s in that state.

“I think I should call my father,” shesays when we are steps from the Patriarch’s door.

What the hell? I wouldn’t let her callOlivet. What in the name of all that’s sacred has led her to believe I’ll lether speak to her daughter-beating, oily asshole of a father?

I scowl. She fidgets but meets my stare. Mygrip on her hand tightens. “Do you really think is a good time to start spouting craziness?”

“We’ll talk about it later.”

“Sure thing, sweetheart. My answer’s notgoing to change though. You can have a heart-to-heart with dear ol’ Dad just assoon as you toss a rose on my casket.”

“You’ve been taking drama queen lessonsfrom Jose, haven’t you?”

“Thin ice, Az. Tread carefully.”

Her sigh carries the weight of the world.“We’ll talk about it later.”

Damn straight we will. And then I’m goingto do the two-step on her phone before I chuck the damn thing into BuffaloBayou. “Stop pouting.”

“You first, you big Alpha-hole.”

A growl rumbles in my chest. I’ll put upwith a fair amount of sass, but she’s wearing my patience down to nothing. Thatthis feels more like flirting and less like arguing doesn’t help matters. We’re taking things slow for benefit. The least she could dois cooperate.

With a stifled groan, she drops my handand rises on her toes to slap her palms on my cheeks. She drags my face down tohers. I cover her lips with my hand before they make contact with mine. Herblue eyes widen with indignation.

“Not here. Not now.” I gently push her backonto her heels. “And the next kiss is going to be mine, damn it.”

“In seven months,” she mutters against mypalm. I drop my hand back to my side. She cuddles right back against me. “Ididn’t mean that Alpha-hole bit earlier. You’re surprisingly good-natured for atyrant. I mean Shifter.”

Can you even be a good-natured tyrant? I’mnot going to waste precious brain cells trying to figure it out. I press thebuzzer beside the doorframe before pushing open the herd’s door. The front deskis vacant. Odd. The Patriarch’s widowed mother is practically a permanentfixture behind that desk.

Az cocks her head toward the door thatleads to the rest of the herd’s offices. “Do you smell lemons?”

I sniff. All I can smell is Az’s perfumeand wet centaur fur. “No.”

“Definitely lemons. Healing magic. Andsomething tangy.” She takes one shuffling step toward the door. Another. I haveno choice but to follow.

And unholster my gun.

The ‘dome is protected, but it’s notimpenetrable. The Succubae-Incubi War of last fall made that lesson clear. The maintenance staff isstill cleaning incubus weapons out of the air vent .

The breath catches in the back of Az’sthroat. Her hand jerks but remains in my grasp. “Beneath the lemons, it’s bananas.Rotten bananas.”

Centaur blood. I take the lead and kickdown the door that separates the receiving room from the rest of centaurterritory. Streaks of blood run along the right side of the narrow hallway. Shoulderheight for a centaur. As if someone with a shoulder wound brushed up againstthe wall as he made his way to safety.

Four doors along the hallway are closed. Idon’t give a damn about them. The blood leads to the big room at the end of thehallway. To the Patriarch’s office.

Az gulps. I glance at her over myshoulder. Her face is ashen and her pupils are dilated. She’s breathing throughher mouth to avoid whatever it is she smells in the hallway.

I inhale. Gag. Rotten bananas. I smell itnow, too. The Patriarch’s office door is open. The blood trail stops at thedoorway. I gingerly step into the opulent office. My footsteps are silent onthe thick carpet.

At first glance, nothing seems out ofplace.

Nothing, that is, except the bloodiedcentaur collapsed on a chaise in a corner of the room.