Had Aiden taken an active part in delivering Clayton to Maelle, there might have been problems, but he hadn’t even known about it. He’d been too busy dealing with the bloody mess left behind at Émigré by Clayton’s bomber. “Though the witch council is in full receipt of all our reports to date.”
“The council apparently does not want to rely on the conclusions of others.” Belle returned with her drink and two cakes—black forest for me, and a banana bread cheesecake for her—and sat down. “We suggested it’s because they want to twist the facts to suit their already drawn conclusions, but Sam denied it.”
Aiden raised his eyebrows again. “Sam?”
She nodded. “He was very quick to get on first-name terms with our girl here. I suspect he was more intent on flirting than fact finding.”
“Suspect? You didn’t read his mind?” Aiden’s expression was offended, though his blue eyes twinkled. “And why not, when you have no compunction raiding my mind willy-nilly?”
“Sadly, he was protected against telepathic invasion.”
“So was Monty when he first arrived here, but that didn’t stop you.”
She grinned. “The effort wasn’t worth it this time. He was being very upfront with his intentions.”
“He basically said,” I added, just in case Aiden was wondering if those intentions were more sexual in nature, “that Clayton’s family is putting pressure on the council to drop the investigation. They want the coroner’s ‘death by unknown supernatural entity’ verdict to stand as the overall official verdict.”
“Which would please Maelle no end.” He picked up his coffee and took a drink, his gaze on mine. We’d already had “the conversation”—the one about me not being open and honest about information he had a right to know—and he hadn’t been too pleased by my response that it hadn’t been my damn place to tell him about Maelle but rather the werewolf council’s. The same council on which his father was a major player. “Have you heard from her?”
I frowned. “Why on earth would I?”
He shrugged. “You seem to be on better terms with her than most.”
“She owed me a favor, and that favor is now repaid. I really don’t expect to hear from her again.” And if I put that statement out there often enough, maybe the universe would take note. “I don’t think the reservation has seen the last of her, though. She’s put too much time and effort into Émigré to walk away.”
He grimaced. “I can’t say I’d be unhappy if she did.”
“She kept to her word, Aiden. She hasn’t killed within the reservation.”
“She has dined, though.”
“Only on the willing, just as she promised.”
He studied me for a moment. “Why are you defending her?”
I shrugged. “I’m just stating facts. Trust me, I’d be over the moon if we have seen the last of her and Roger.”
“I gather he’s her thrall?”
I nodded. A thrall was a human who—via a magical ceremony in which he or she shared a piece of the vampire’s flesh—was given eternal life in return for eternal service. Roger wasn’t dead; he’d simply been forced into a period of stasis. Basically, he’d been so badly injured that he’d placed himself into a coma to help his body heal and recover. I did sometimes wonder if part of his problem had been Maelle draining his strength in order to maintain her own.
“I daresay he’ll come back to life when Maelle decides to make an appearance. From what I’ve read, thralls are very hard to kill.”
“That seems to be a common theme here of late when it comes to supernatural nasties.”
“As long as you’re not blaming us for that,” Belle said, “because we all know where the true fault lies.”
“Yes, and you’ve mentioned it multiple times. Can we at least forgive the council even if we can’t forget?”
She pursed her lips thoughtfully, but her mischievously glinting silver eyes somewhat spoiled the effect. “Okay—but only because you asked so nicely.”
He rolled his eyes and returned his gaze to mine. “If you do hear from Maelle, let me know. We need access to her security recordings.”
I frowned. “Wouldn’t they be in the security office? It’s not like she had time to take them after the explosion.”
“That’s the trouble—we can’t find the security office.”
“Meaning it was destroyed in the bombing?”
“We don’t think so. We think it’s actually off site.”
“That makes sense, given she had other services available off site,” Belle said.
“Other services?” Aiden said, eyebrows rising.
Belle smiled. “Apparently, there’s quite a few wolves in this reservation who don’t mind a bit of BDSM. Heard and saw