step, he was hard pressed to keep his wolf from doing exactly what it wanted to do with her on the nearest surface. It didn’t matter to the beast that Carlo didn’t want to touch the Chaos again. It didn’t care she would likely be the reason he went crazy again.
No matter if she kept it contained, Nanshe carried the Chaos within her body. The power slithered through her very bloodstream, lending a slightly electric undertone to her cinnamon and vanilla scent. It made his skin crawl.
“You lie.”
He ignored her.
“Well, you don’t, but you ignore what else it makes you feel.”
Ignored, again.
Instead, he waited until she slid into a seat at the head of the black lacquer table, her back straight and her arms on the armrests on the side, fingers relaxed and graceful. Nanshe surveyed the space around her like a queen, her chin held high and her nearly white hair sliding over her shoulder in a decadent cascade.
Get it together, wolf.
“Don’t argue with the only intelligence within you.”
He growled at that but swallowed the sound at the soft smile and flash in her red eyes. She’d gotten him to respond, and he knew that was what she wanted, so he made a more pointed stand.
Carlo stalked to the other end of the room, past the entire length of the enormous table of empty chairs. Arturo sat on this side, his fingers resting under his chin as he waited for the others to come in. As these were his lands, he would be the power. He wouldn’t demand the other wolves to bow, but they’d get the message loud and clear.
In fact, Nanshe’s back was to the elevators, where everyone would enter behind her and some of the group already stood, waiting to be seated. Another message. She was the one in a vulnerable state. Carlo ignored the fact he could watch her back from his vantage point, and with his height and prowess, he’d be there to protect her long before anyone could do a damn thing.
“Thank you.”
Get out of my head, witch.
Nanshe sighed. “I couldn’t even if I wanted to.”
Why?
Before Carlo received her answer, Asherah stepped forward and took a seat to Nanshe’s right. She had changed into a more formal dress for a meeting with all the leaders of Encantado. Carlo couldn’t deny her blue/green dress and the way she allowed her magic to swirl around her—making her hair dance as if under water—was an excellent power move. Asherah may appear weak, but she was Seelie royalty like her sister, and they’d all seen what Silva could do in a battle.
“Asherah, good to see you.” Carlo gave a small smile and nodded, and she returned the gesture.
Silva took up a spot behind Ash’s left shoulder. She’d changed into a black dress that highlighted her silver hair and purplish eyes to perfection. Her silver sword glittered at her hip, and her black wings tipped with violet hues were as threatening as they were beautiful.
“Just so you know, I’m now upping the points for your balls to 500.”
Carlo’s jaw dropped, and the thought of Isadora attacking his nuts ever again forced a shiver down his spine and an ache between his legs.
“Wh– What the hell was that for, Silva?” he stammered.
“Um, I’m older, I’m the Fae Queen, I should be addressed first. But whatever.”
Asherah blinked up at her sister and gasped.
“It’s okay, sis. I love you. Gotta keep the wolf on his toes though. Hashtag, the Queen has arrived. Hashtag, Rosemary’s Baby is the shit. Hashtag, Silva Junior in training. Hashtag, at least she isn’t looking for her backpack.”
Carlo and Asherah groaned in unison, and Arturo simply remained silent and stoic.
Eiravel was poised next to Silva, the red flecks in his eyes dancing, warning of his preparedness for battle. Carlo was surprised Heath wasn’t in Eiravel’s place, until the large Unseelie male stepped off the elevator.
It had been difficult getting used to his ebony hair, the rough beard over his jaw, and the way his black eyes sparked with silver. He’d previously hidden his Fae nature, making them all believe he was nothing more than a teenager. Now they knew he was hundreds of years old and controlled the shadow element. Case in point, one sword hilt was visible over his shoulder and a second sword—made of complete shadow—hovered over his other shoulder, wisps of dark power flaring around it. Cynes, Eiravel’s exact duplicate save the gold starbursts in his eyes, accompanied him.
The Fae were hard to ignore