Chapter 16
Trick straightened up from a blood-colored concoction in a small bowl and pushed aside an intimidatingly thick tome smiling triumphantly. "We've done it, Stella," he announced and a gorgeous supple long-legged figure of a woman rose herself from a low couch where she had been stretched with a magazine that looked suspiciously like a glossy.
"The antidote is ready?" she asked, her voice indistinguishably accented, as she approached and peered at the liquid he was pouring into a vial with the look of a cardio-surgeon concentration.
"The very same, our break-thought, our hope," the Blood King grinned like a boy shedding thousands of years of living experience in a moment of victorious mirth.
"We'll fall the tyrant and the fae will be back to their old life," Stella mirrored his joy, her full lips stealing a breath off Trick.
"And I'll have my grand-daughter back," he confirmed, placing the vial carefully into an already waiting felt-lined box, "Even if she doesn't forgive me."
"You were only trying to protect her," the woman soothed passing a soft hand across his slightly sweaty forehead.
"Generation gap," Trick gave a crooked smile, "And she thinks, at least she thought when she still possessed the ability to think without being compelled to, that I'm an overbearing, overprotective bastard who separated her from everyone she loved – her mother, her lover."
"A patented psycho willing to sacrifice her own child to her own murky ends and a supercilious wolf cazanova who broke her heart for a fairy who he, in his turn, stole from his best friend."
"Posthumously stole, to be fair to Dyson – Ciara was his best friend's widow," the Blood King murmured, closing the box and sealing it with a spell, "and the wolf just didn't realize a succubus can be capable of true love, he thought Bo was only using him for sex and followed my orders in keeping her sated and stable. And then he turned round to disobey my orders and reveal the truth that Bo was absolutely not ready to accept."
"And willingly or inadvertently, he was instrumental in separating you from your grand-daughter and alienating her from the Light," Stella was not in a forgiving mood.
"And now he'll redeem himself by being instrumental in bringing Bo back to me," Trick sighed and putting the box down took the woman's hands in his, "He'll infiltrate Lauren Lewis's ranks and pave the way for Tamsin to deliver the final, crushing blow."
"That does come off a bit vindictive, my king," Stella smiled languorously, And a bit hard on the poor puppy."
"He failed me as a solider, he failed me as a friend," Trick shrugged his shoulders, "I would've have ordered him dead but he saved my life more than once before and I am giving him a chance now. A fighting chance to serve his king and to save the woman he wronged, actually two women he mistreated, though Tamsin would never admit it out loud."
"That is if Tamsin lets you risk him, she knows full well the antidote might not work and she might not appreciate your ulterior motive. You're making the same mistake with her as you made with Bo – hiding too much from a strong, independently-minded woman," Stella chided, her tone cold where her gaze was warm.
"She is a loyal warrior, well-versed in the ways of our world. She has to understand a commander who assumes responsibility has to dole out the knowledge the way he sees fit – that has always been the way," the man frowned, a sifting expression in his eyes as if his words aimed more to persuade himself than his lover.
"A loyal warrior or not, she is a woman in love. I personally would rip to shreds anyone asking me to put your beautiful mind on the line for any noble cause or educational purposes," the woman raised his hands to her lips.
"Then we'll need to give her an incentive," the Blood King breathed out as her hot mouth grazed his knuckles, "A reason to think that Dyson has made enough bad calls to be risked."
They met at a human café, cozy, light and airy thanks to huge shop-windows, complete with a pink-wearing waitress and an avuncular-looking man behind the counter, the bun-stand oozing seductive smells and an overall atmosphere of normalcy. But there was nothing normal, not in any human terms, about the pretty young brunette with empty eyes and a scruffy tall man with ginger-tinted stubble, who was older than the country he currently resided in.
"I found a lead on doctor Taft," he leaned across the table as if apprehensive of being overheard by the elderly couple sitting in the next booth.
"Good, and I've got the samples smuggled out of the mansion and put into a safe deposit box," the girl didn't move to lean towards him but didn't flinch from him either, "And where's the intel coming from?"
"I've got my sources," Dyson replied noncommittally, torn half-way between a childish desire to brag and a more mature suspicion Kenzi might not like to hear the truth and appreciate the way he had treated her backstabbing but obviously not numerous family members.
Coincidentally or acting on an informed hunch the girl steered the conversation right to it: "My source –my cousin Dima – is currently out of the running. In the polite society I would've called it 'taken ill', in the present company, I will have to cite a couple of broken ribs and a good deal of intimidation that landed him in hospital and giving me the usual i-fell-off-the-stairs denial routine." Kenzi tore her gaze off her untouched plate and scrutinized the bearded face in front of her with pronounced suspicion based on having witnessed firsthand the wolf's ways.
"I've done more interrogations on both sides of the table than you've had proper dinners, going by your size zero look," the wolf chortled to himself, keeping his expression delightfully innocent. "Dangerous line of business, your family is in," he said out loud instead and added with false sympathy, "Tried punching above his weight? Literally?"
"I'll ask as soon as his jaw is knitted back together," the girl shot back, "So, on to the good doctor. Does your source say if he is anywhere around or are you trying to impress me?"
"Both. A couple of hours drive from here," Dyson replied with what was only true on both counts, "Are you up for a little field trip?"
"I'll have to clear my calendar first," the girl scoffed, "That and a tiny problem of a powerful old fae gunning after my little human Lauren-related self."
"Don't worry your pretty head," the wolf allowed some extra teeth to show in his grin, "She won't bother you any longer."
"Still trying to impress me?" Kenzi asked, genuinely surprised despite herself and distinctly reluctant to go into any whys.
"Succeeding?" Dyson's grin turned into a mild smile and he caught himself thinking the last time he had put so much consideration and conscious effort into speaking to a girl was well before the advent of a gramophone. What followed threw him into a deeper thrilled astonishment.
Later on, Kenzi spent a long time in the bathtub convincing herself she had only done that to remember what an un-enthralled man felt like. She even delivered a full-scale lecture on the topic of why handsome men are bad for you, wandering into 5 reasons to steer clear of bearded dudes. All the while, deep down in her bubble-covered body and in her confused soul, under the rationalizations and the self-admonitions she knew she had enjoyed every micro-second and every tiny breath when her lips were connected to the wolf's.
Dyson's response was much simpler and unequivocal as the girl lunged forward and pressed her hot little mouth to his, with the desperation and passion he had suspected but couldn't hope for under her enigmatically tragic exterior. He regretted not going through with his impetuous idea of shaving, strived to remember if he had brushed his teeth that morning and, above all, savored the feel and the smell and the taste that engulfed his whole being.
When she finally drew apart, seemingly unflustered but out of breath he didn't know whether to comment or to keep his mouth shut and opted for a safer option. Kenzi, on the other hand, dug into the cooled food on her plate with a sudden surge of appetite and informed him, in between the bites, "Don't get your hopes up or anything else for that matter, wolfie. I am whimsical and desperately trying to maintain the image."
The elderly couple in the next booth watched the kiss with an entertained disapproval while across the road from the cafe, Tamsin clenched her fists in her lap as her sharp eyes observed the little scene through the shop window.
"Really! A human, young enough to be your great-great-great and another ten times great-grand-daughter?" she gritted out and almost bit down on the tip of her tongue when the unbidden trite clichés threatened to fall out of her mouth. How could you? and How could I be so stupid? chased by self-recriminations, closely followed by burgeoning impotent rage.
Humiliation and hurt were brewing together, nearing the combustion point and the Valkyrie was one tiny step from barging into the café and causing a scene and a fight the wolf would need a couple of weeks to recover from when her cell chirped inside her pocket and Tamsin clamped her hand around the miniature device and stamped down on her temper.
"It's better be urgent," she barked into the receiver, too far gone to care that she was talking to the Blood King.