could try to influence the overlord in whatever way they can.”
“Really?” A drawl in her voice, Reena’s expression was unreadable. “Concerned I’m too mentally weak to know when I am being played? That after fifteen years of service to this city because I now have a man in my bed, I am incapable of independent thought?”
A lanky wolf to the left of Kellan smirked and folded his arms, as though settling in to enjoy the show. Interesting. He evidently knew Reena, to pick up her mood from just her voice. Jealousy clawed Archer’s gut as he studied the other man. A grayhound of a man, he looked half-starved yet packed with muscle.
“No, no, my lady. We don’t think you incapable at all!” Kellan’s voice rose all squeaky now his planned “get the little woman to listen to reason” speech was fucking up six ways to Sunday. He looked around for support, but even the guy next to him took a step back, leaving him on his own.
“Then, perhaps, with all this ‘concern,’ you think you would do a better job as Overlord?” She rose from her seat, stalking down the three steps to bring her to the same level, her eyes fixed on her quarry. She was a small woman with curves in all the right places that would make any red-blooded man sit up and take notice. At the moment, for all her petite size, she radiated danger. Lethality. A charge built in the room, the tension of a wolf pulling power for a shift.
“Perhaps you would like to challenge me for the title, hmmm, Kellan? You want to meet me wolf to wolf?”
Kellan actually did pale this time, the color leeching from his skin and his eyes fully human blue. For a born wolf, that meant one of two things: he was as powerful as Reena and could conceal his wolf totally, or he was so shit-scared, the creature hid itself so far down they’d need mining equipment to find it. Given that he was facing the most dangerous she-wolf in the city, Archer settled on shit-scared.
“No! Please, my lady…I meant no offense.”
Kellan dropped to his knees in front of Reena, a plea on his lips and his head tilted to the side. A show of submission. Archer’s lips curl back from his teeth, noting with surprise a similar look of disdain on the face of the thin guy he’d noted earlier. Their gazes met for a second, and a look of understanding crossed between them. They both thought Kellan was pathetic, playing games behind Reena’s back, but unwilling to back up his words with actions.
Reena cupped her ear as though she was having trouble hearing. “What was that, Kellan? You don’t want to challenge me? You are content that I am mistress and more than capable of making my own decisions regardless who shares my bed?”
She leaned down. Kellan flinched, aware Reena might look human and harmless at the moment, but she could shift and have her teeth in his throat within half a second. “Because you know something, Kellan. When I have a man in my bed, the last thing I want from him is talk.”
She put a finger on his forehead and pushed. He fell backward, sprawling over the polished wooden floor. Her lip curled back in disgust. “Just get out of my sight. Come back when you have something sensible to say that doesn’t involve your hissy fit about who I choose to screw.”
She turned away as Kellan scuttled backward, his cheeks flaming red. Not paying him any attention, her gaze instead sought Archer’s, and when they connected, he felt the shiver all the way to his soul.
Taking the steps in a measured tread, he approached her, bowing his head in deference to her rank. He didn’t want to bow and scrape like the rest. Instead he wanted to carry her off and kiss her senseless. But he’d promised to obey her out of the bedroom and he was a man who kept his word.
“Well, wasn’t he just a special little snowflake triple-dipped in spoilt brat and angst?” A deep voice broke in and Archer turned to find the man he’d noticed earlier stood next to them. Correction, wolf. With a
1796-1874 Agnes Strickland, 1794-1875 Elizabeth Strickland, Rosalie Kaufman