He didn’t take as long to react. He reached for her again, lips curled back in a silent snarl.
A loud, furious growl stopped Jonas mid-grab. Rook stalked across the street toward them, hands balled into fists and cheeks flushed, the very picture of rage. Brynn expected Jonas to back off from the sheer force of Rook’s approach; she wanted to cower from it herself, and she was half-afraid some of the anger was directed at her. Only Rook’s eyes were firmly fixed on Jonas, who stood his ground, one hand still raised in Brynn’s direction.
Rook didn’t stop until he was in Jonas’s face, which meant he was also in Brynn’s perimeter, and the strength of his scent hit her like a hurricane-force wind. Her stomach tightened, and she remembered the touch of his lips on hers, the way he’d looked at her. She didn’t want to give that up, and she didn’t have a choice.
“Weren’t you taught better than to treat a lady like that?” Rook snarled.
Jonas bared his teeth. “The Magus and I were having a private conversation. Why so protective, Rook? You give it up to the little witch?”
The “witch” dig rolled right off Brynn’s back, but her temper piqued at the suggestion that she and Rook been so intimate after having known each other such a short time. Rook’s did, as well. He was shorter than Jonas, but he still got into Jonas’s face, forcing Jonas to take a step backward.
“I’m protective because she saved my life last night, jackass,” Rook said. “Our people responded more quickly to your tragedy because of her, so show a little goddamn respect.”
Jonas growled low and deep. “You want me to respect a Magus? They’re no better than the animals they accuse us of being.”
“Some more so than others,” Brynn said, shocking herself with the brazen comment. Rook’s support and proximity had bolstered her courage.
Jonas reached for her. Rook gave him a hard shove that sent Jonas stumbling backward into a mailbox. Jonas gave her a look of pure poison—tempered with a smallest amount of respect—before returning his glare to Rook.
“Was that a challenge?” Jonas asked.
“I wouldn’t waste my time challenging river trash. Besides, you’re a guest of my father, and he frowns on me killing his guests.”
“Pretty confident, aren’t you? Or are you just afraid of losing to a piece of river trash in front of your piece of ass?”
Brynn had faced worse insults from her own kind in recent weeks, so the comments didn’t sting as Jonas likely intended them to—not to her. Rook, on the other hand, seemed ready to tear Jonas’s lungs out through his throat. Something told her to keep silent and allow Rook to react in his own way; challenging his defense of her would only hurt him in the eyes of his competitor.
“Insult her again,” Rook said, his voice icy cold.
“And you’ll do what?”
“Test me and find out.”
“Name the time and place, Little Pawn. I’ve had a mate, so once I put you down, I’ll have your Magus, too, since you can’t.”
She bristled at the blatant threat. Rook had murder in his eyes.
“What the hell is this?” Bishop’s deep voice boomed through the silence and bounced off the trees. He strode toward them from the direction of Main Street, his age and status causing both Rook and Jonas to back down and step away from each other. Brynn moved to Rook’s right side, keeping him between her and Jonas.
Bishop stared them all down with his hands on his hips, channeling the strength and power of his father in every way. He didn’t seem angry. He seemed disappointed. “Tell me that I didn’t just interrupt a public pissing contest between two Alphas’ sons.”
“A misunderstanding,” Jonas said.
“Uh-huh.” Bishop glanced at Brynn, then back to the men. “Brynn is a guest here in Cornerstone, like you are, Jonas. And we expect our guests to treat each other with the same respect we give them while they are on our land. Is that understood?”
“Perfectly. Like I said, it was a misunderstanding.”
Misunderstanding? Is he kidding? To hell with how loup garou traditionally deal with these types of confrontations. I’m not a prize to be taken by the winner.
“There was no misunderstanding,” Brynn said. “You don’t like that I’m a Magus. You threatened to kill Rook and then rape me afterward.”
Bishop’s eyebrows rose in surprise, then furrowed in agitation. Rook growled. Jonas’s cold glare only fueled the confidence with which she’d spoken, and she glared right back.
“Is that so,” Bishop said. Danger edged his voice and he stepped closer to Jonas. They matched in height and bulk, but Bishop’s age and experience came through in the way he bullied Jonas down. “Congratulations, Jonas. You’ve now become responsible for the health and safety of both Rook and Brynn while all three of you reside here. Anything happens to either of them, and I will personally rip your throat out.”
“Is that a threat?” Jonas asked.
“Oh no. I don’t make threats.”
Brynn shivered and made a mental note to never, ever cross Bishop McQueen.
Jonas held Bishop’s gaze for another few seconds, then he looked down.
“Good,” Bishop said. “Now you can go back to your father and explain to him why you personally are no longer welcome in my father’s house.”
With a grunt of disgust, Jonas gave the group a wide berth and stalked back toward Main Street. The tension that had surrounded them dissipated, and Brynn discovered she could breathe more easily.
Rook touched her cheek and tilted her head up, and she pressed into the heat of his hand. “Are you all right?” he asked.
“I’m fine.” She hated confrontation, but she’d surprised herself by not backing down from Jonas—not before or after Rook arrived. “He struck me as more bluster than action, but I don’t like being threatened.”
“I can tell. What were you doing out here by yourself?”
She’d quite forgotten the errand that had drawn her out of the safety of the McQueen property. “I needed to tell your father about a vision.”
“Another one?”
“Yes. It was very brief and vague, but it might be important. All of the others have been.”
“He should be in his office,” Bishop said.
Brynn ignored the looks of bystanders as they walked up Main Street toward the auction house. She focused on Bishop’s back as he led the way, and she concentrated on the pleasant warmth of Rook next to her. Just being close to him had buoyed her confidence, helped her hold her head high in a town full of loup who looked at her with suspicion and contempt. By now rumors would be spreading about the Magus who had visions, but she couldn’t make herself remove the amulet necklace. Let it confuse her scent; she no longer cared.
McQueen was finishing up a call when they arrived. Brynn didn’t bother sitting before she told them all about her vision of the fire, as well as her unconfirmed impression that this was a building somewhere in Cornerstone.
“I can’t begin to explain why I think the fire will occur here,” Brynn said. “It’s the feeling I had when I saw the flames and heard the howling. Every vision I’ve had since coming to Cornerstone has been related to you and your family in some way. It makes sense that this one is, as well.”
“Could this have something to do with Fiona’s powers?” Bishop asked. “She incinerates from the inside out, which is a connection to fire.”
“It’s possible,” McQueen said. He looked at Rook, then tilted his head in Brynn’s direction, as if asking a silent question. Rook shook his head.
Brynn stared at them both. “What?”
“Ms. Atwood, there’s something we haven’t been completely honest with you about, and I apologize for that.”
The hair on the back of her neck prickled. McQueen and Bishop wore passive expressions, but Rook looked absolutely guilty. She drew up to her full (if unimpressive) height and crossed her arms over her chest. “And what is that, exactly?”
McQueen silently deferred the question to Rook, who seemed as comfortable as a guilty man placing his hand upon a sacred object to swear an oath. “You remember that first day here in the office?” Rook asked. “When you got upset and Knight was able to calm you down?”
“Of course I remember. I didn’t expect that to happen.”
“You also didn’t expect for the poison in your ring to affect you.”
“No, because it should have only affected loup garou physiology.”
“We noticed something about you that day, Brynn. Something we weren’t sure how to bring up, or if you even knew, and those two things confirmed our suspicions.”
Her stomach churned unpleasantly as he tiptoed around something she wasn’t certain she wanted to hear. “What suspicions?”
“You have a mixed scent that has nothing to do with your magic medallion. You smell of both Magus”—Rook swallowed hard, his steady gaze burning into hers—“and of loup garou. From somewhere in your family tree, you have loup garou blood, Brynn.”
If Rook said anything else after those words, it was lost in the distant sounds of a woman weeping, and her own father’s derisive laughter.
Chapter Seventeen
She didn’t faint or anything, but the swaying was enough to scare Rook into picking Brynn up and settling her into a wicker chair. Her skin was far beyond its normal shade of pale and cool to the touch. She stared without seeing, her breath shallow without falling into hyperventilating territory. Seeing her like that infuriated his beast, and he had to tamp down his temper. He crouched in front of her and grabbed her hands tightly in his, rubbing them for warmth and to remind her that he was here.
He wasn’t going anywhere.
“How is that possible?” she asked, her voice barely above a whisper. “How can I not know this?”
“We can’t be sure of the genetics from scent alone,” Father said. “Your Magus blood interferes too much.”
“Someone would have known. Magi magic is passed from father to child. The Atwoods have held power in the Congress for generations. Any dissolution of that power would have been noticed.”
She wasn’t outright denying the possibility of being part loup, which gave Rook hope. She seemed more confused than actively disgusted. She just needed answers before she could accept a new truth about herself. And he needed her to know that he wasn’t judging her for being a half-breed.
“What about your mother?” Rook asked.
“She died when I was very small. I don’t even remember her.”
“Could her family have been hiding the secret of loup blood?”
Brynn frowned. “Her family was middle-ranked, I’m told. My father’s parents chose her for his wife because of her strong telepathic powers. They were considered a good match.”
“We won’t likely find our answers this way,” Bishop said. “And we can’t very well go around sniffing her entire family tree.”
She made a funny noise, somewhere between a giggle and a snort, coupled with a hint of madness. “I wouldn’t suggest it, no.”
Making jokes was a good sign.
“What about loup records?” Rook asked. “At some point a White Wolf was involved.”
“That’s a good place to start our search,” Father said.
“Jillian told me a bit about your quarterly change,” Brynn said. “I’ve never felt a compulsion like that.”
“That isn’t unusual. Most half-breeds never shift at all, and if your loup blood is even more diluted, you may have never known you were different from the other Magi.”
“I’ve always felt different from them, though.” She looked over Rook’s shoulder, at his father, her eyes glistening. “I’m a second daughter. My powers are weak. I’m not the heir my father wanted, and I never can be. I’m simply the heir he was left with. In the Magi world I have no value, and I’ve grown up aware of this. It’s been made very clear to me recently.”
“You have value here,” Rook said fiercely. He squeezed her hands harder, and she looked at him. A single tear spilled down her left cheek, and he couldn’t let her go long enough to brush it away. His heart swelled with unnamed emotions, with the need to stop her tears and keep her safe and destroy everyone who’d ever told her she had no value. He wanted her and all of her flaws, real or imaginary.
“Rook is correct,” Father said. “Your visions have proven invaluable to us. You said you’ve never had this many in such a short period of time. Perhaps you needed an encouraging environment in order to develop them.”
She blinked hard and a second tear fell. “Perhaps.” Understanding brightened her eyes. “That’s what Jonas meant.”
“When?” Rook asked.
“Right before you arrived, he said he smelled loup garou on me. I thought he was simply being crass, but he accused me of sleeping with one of you, and now it makes sense. He smelled my true nature, just as you did.”
Rook’s heart pounded a furious beat at the memory of that scene on the sidewalk—of glancing out the window at Dr. Mike’s and seeing Jonas grab Brynn’s arm. He hadn’t thought, hadn’t considered the consequences of a confrontation. He’d just bolted, fueled by the need to protect what his beast had already decided was his. To protect Brynn. Bishop’s arrival had been fortuitous—and probably the only thing that stopped Rook from killing Jonas where he stood for his threats against Brynn. He would gladly snap the neck of any man who hurt her.
Brynn untangled their hands and touched his cheek, and Rook realized he’d started growling. He cut it off and leaned into the warmth of her palm, glad that she seemed to understand.
“He had no right to treat you like that,” Rook said. Before his father had to ask, Rook filled him in on the confrontation. Brynn and Bishop added their own details to complete the scene.
Father tapped his knuckles against the top of his desk. “I can forgive many things because of shock and grief,” he said, “but if Jonas or anyone else from his camp steps out of line again, they will cease to enjoy my hospitality and will spend time in one of the quarterly cages.”
They didn’t have a jail, because they didn’t have police. The quarterly cages in various homes, including the McQueen house, occasionally served as places of punishment when it was deemed necessary by the Alpha. Many things were tolerated due to the nature of a loup garou’s temper and instincts, but not murder and certainly not rape. They had ways to punish criminals for their crimes.
Rook’s mind shifted to Fiona and Victoria, so smug and sure of themselves in that camper. Amused at what they’d done, not just to Rook but to Knight. Listening to Knight trying to explain everything to Father had slowly broken Rook’s heart. When he caught them, Rook would kill those women slowly and gleefully for everything they’d done—no jail, no mercy.