Bloodfire (Blood Destiny 1) - Helen Harper Page 0,38
rising annoyance in my voice. Careful, Mack, I warned myself.
“Not at all. I just wonder how someone like him could keep someone like you…interested.”
Now what exactly did he mean by that? I looked directly into his eyes, challenging his stare. “Oh, I’m very interested,” I said with a slow murmur.
The green in his eyes flashed for a second and he returned to the chair behind the desk.
I decided to aim for humility in a bid to get him to leave me alone. “Lord Corrigan, I don’t want to waste your valuable time. I have no desire to leave Cornwall and believe that I have made that apparent to you already. Perhaps your time would be better spent with those shifters who would like to join in you in London.”
He raised his eyebrows. “That may be but there are other matters that I would like to discuss.” He was all business like now. “Tell me what you did on the day of your alpha’s death.”
“On the day of his murder, you mean.”
Corrigan just looked back at me. I sighed and rubbed my eyes. “I went for a jog, then to the eastern perimeter. There had been some rumours about something there.”
“And did you find anything?”
“No,” I lied. I knew from my quick rummage around John’s computer that he’d not written the wichtlein report before he’d died and, if I was going to make sure that the Brethren left promptly in a day and a half’s time, then it was important that I gave them no further reasons to stick around. Besides which, I was going to find John’s killer and wreak my own particular brand of justice on them. The last thing I needed were some jumped up overlords getting my way.
Corrigan’s expression remained blank. “And then what?”
“I came back to the keep. When we realised that John hadn’t returned, I went out with the others to find him. Then we did. Find him, I mean.”
“I see.” He raised a hand and pushed it through his dark hair, biceps rippling as he did so. “You’re lying, Miss Mackenzie. Or certainly not telling me the whole truth.”
Shit.
Tell me everything.
Oh god, he was trying to compel me with his Voice. It wouldn’t work on me though so I had to be clever about this and make it seem like I was following orders. I opened my mind up carefully, letting an image of finding John’s body then Anton pushing me aside flash up. I left off the part where Anton had referred to my humanity but allowed the idea that he’d accused me of being involved in John’s murder seep through.
Corrigan nodded slowly. “Hmmm. So what is it between you and Anton? Perhaps he’s a jilted lover?”
Hardly. He just couldn’t stand the fact that I was human. “We just rub each other up the wrong way.”
“I see,” Corrigan said again. “So why does your boyfriend,” he emphasised the ‘boy’ part, “call you Red?”
Crapola. He’d heard that. I silently cursed Tom for his nickname. If I told Corrigan the truth, that I’d dyed my hair, he might suspect that there was more I was trying to hide. Think, Mack. “It’s my favourite colour. I always wear it.”
Corrigan’s eyes slowly travelled down my seated body. I was wearing dark jeans and a black t-shirt.
“But, of course, I’m wearing dark colours now in mourning for John.”
He tapped his fingers lightly on the worn desk. “Of course. You do seem to take this mourning aspect very seriously.”
“I take his death very seriously.” At least that part wasn’t a lie.
There was a flicker of sympathy in his eyes. That annoyed me. I didn’t need to know that the Lord Alpha had a nice side to him, no matter what the girl had said outside.
He changed tack. “You smell like a rat, or maybe a gerbil. I can’t quite pinpoint it.”
“I’m a hamster.” Which was probably about as believable as the reason I’d offered up for Tom’s stupid nickname. Shifters’ personalities and abilities mimic their animal form. I could think of little that I’d manage to achieve so far that broadcasted a small furry compliant rodent.
He looked at me quietly for a moment or two but his expression gave nothing away. “Interesting. Werehamsters rarely have much fighting prowess. You, Miss Mackenzie, must be an anomaly.”
I shrugged, trying to appear casual. He stared at me for another long moment before again tapping his fingers on the desk and saying, “Very well then. You are free to go.”