right out of Medieval Scotland, or so Nexi thought every time she entered the Council’s Hall.
The headquarters of all things Otherworldly more or less resembled a cathedral from the middle ages. It, and the foyer outside the main doors, was the center of the building. Surrounding the foyer were the four towers making up the structure of the castle. The Guardians’ House and Witches’ House were to the left, and the Vampires’ House and Werewolves’ House were to the right of the Council’s Hall.
All very awe worthy, Nexi still believed.
Even the three male Masters of the Otherworld and one female Mistress were an equally impressive sight, sitting in their throne chairs like royalty. Perhaps, however, they only appeared more powerful tonight, since the most influential supernaturals in all of existence were staring her down.
Nexi heaved a sigh and turned to her birth father, Drake, who stood off to the side of the chairs, rambling incoherent nonsense. While the Council intimated her, the guardian with his eyeballs bulging out of his head simply infuriated her.
At her continuing silence, Drake demanded, “Do you plan on answering me?”
She rubbed her nose, erasing the tickle from the dust in the room he stirred from pacing. “Sorry, what did you ask? You lost me about a second after you opened your mouth.”
His eyes bulged further. “What were you thinking?”
“I—”
He raised a hand. “What would have happened if it wasn’t Briggs—a friend to the Council, I might add—whom you threatened with a weapon?”
She shifted her weight onto her other foot and folded her arms, as he once again paced in front of the Council in long, heavy strides. Only a second passed before Drake continued with a growl to his voice, “I’m starting to believe you’re suffering some mental problems that need tending to.” He stopped mid-step and regarded her. “Are you unwell?”
“Oh, yes, I’m dandy,” she retorted, as if this even needed to be spoken aloud. “The only two people I loved deeply have been murdered. Now not only am I living in some bizarre supernatural realm, but I’m, in fact, a freaky supernatural myself.”
Drake studied her with a long look before he grunted and turned to the Council. “Maybe her grief is blinding her judgment.”
Before he said something she’d make him regret, Nexi interjected, “Rewind there, Daddy. You said I have magical powers, so what’s the big deal? I’ll voodoo some shit up, bring out my spidey-senses, and bam.”
Drake openly gawked at her. “You have guardian powers and those are innate abilities. You may have increased strength, but skill is learned not gifted.” Each Council member nodded agreement, and he added, “Might I also remind you that, yes, Zia released the block on your supernatural powers to allow those gifts to return, but your witch abilities haven’t shown themselves yet. You, at the moment, have no magic at all.”
Good point, but… “Even if the witch side of things hasn’t shown itself yet, you said it yourself: I’m physically stronger now.” As the vein in the center of his forehead nearly burst, she hurried the heck up. “And I’ve told you repeatedly, I’m done sitting around. If you’re so concerned about my safety in the world now, then train me so I can fight.”
He shook his head. “You’re not ready.”
“Yes,” she said through clenched teeth. “I am.”
Talon, Master of Guardians, hummed low in his throat as he rubbed his jaw, studying her with his emerald eyes. The warrior, decked out in the whole sword and leather kilt getup, exuded power. “You’ve only had a month to mourn your family’s passing and to adjust to your new life. I worry about pushing you into this too quickly.”
Beside him, Holten, Master of Weres, agreed with a nod. “It’s too soon.”
Nexi would consider the werewolf a softy, with his gentle, chocolate brown eyes and long, dark hair. That was, if the two hundred and fifty pounds of muscle on his body didn’t put him into the category of Scary as Hell.
Even if she might fear him, and even if he had seemed kind enough toward her, her hands tightened into fists.
Zia, Mistress of Witches, raised her eyebrows over her blue beauties, apparently aware of the rage flowing through Nexi’s veins. Even the pale Master of Vampires, Zade, regarded her with black, twinkling eyes, his fangs poking out from his lip.
They were right: she was about to blow her lid.
These males were deciding her life as if she didn’t have an opinion on the matter, or as if her