Captive Mate - Eliot Grayson Page 0,26
what the hell he was doing, I saw that instead of being unable to meet Parker’s gaze, he was…fuck, he was shifting his attention to Tyler. He wasn’t looking at Parker at all. I started to get an idea of what he was doing, and my heart raced with something between fear, admiration, and arousal. It was such an asshole move. Petty, clever, and perfectly calculated to press every one of Parker’s buttons.
“I assume you’re aware that we’re at war with the Kimball pack,” Matthew said — to Tyler. Clearly, and unmistakably, to Tyler. His voice was confident and strong, the alpha in it reverberating in every word. “By bringing them onto my territory uninvited and unasked, you’re declaring hostile intentions. Explain yourself.”
Tyler gaped at him, looked at Parker, and then dropped his eyes submissively to the ground and stumbled back a step as Parker went an ugly shade of brick-red from his hairline to his collar, his fists clenching.
“Why the fuck are you talking to him?” Parker demanded furiously. “I’m Parker Taft, the leader of the Taft pack!”
“Oh, you’re the pack leader? All right,” Matthew said, managing to hit a pitch-perfect note of mild surprise mingled with indifference. Gods, I’d underestimated him again. I was so tired of that. Matthew shrugged. “You explain, then.”
“Of course I’m the fucking pack leader,” Parker snarled, his eyes flashing and his fangs dropping. Oh, fuck, this was beautiful. Matthew was playing him like a cheap violin. “Why would you think — and I can bring whoever I fucking want to get back my mate you kidnapped, you son of a bitch!”
“If I kidnapped him, then what was he doing working with the Kimball pack for months on end?” Matthew retorted. “He came to me unmated, and any shaman would be able to verify it. You have one minute to get off my territory and take them with you, or I’ll consider it a declaration of war and remove you myself.”
“The fuck you will,” Parker hissed, taking a menacing step forward. “I’ll take my mate with or without your permission, and if I leave you bleeding in the road no one would blame me. And no one would know,” he finished, baring his teeth.
Ian and Matthew both took a step to meet him, Ian putting himself between Parker and Nate and Matthew between Parker and me. The councilmembers to Matthew’s right were squaring off, too, and I braced myself. If this came to a fight, did I stay out of the way or stick to Matthew? Either one might fuck up my chances of staying alive.
But…I could run. The thought crept up on me. If they kept Parker and his goons busy, I could run. Get far enough away to find someone to bribe or fuck into getting these manacles off, and then never look back.
“Ahem,” said a light voice from the sideline. Parker spun, his claws sprouting, and his jaw dropped.
Well, I couldn’t blame him. I started too, having almost forgotten Fenwick and Dor were there until they decided to drop their don’t-look-at-me illusion — and they were kind of a jaw-dropping pair.
“I’d know,” Fenwick said cheerfully into the tense silence.
“Oh, shit,” someone said in the background — Colin Kimball, I was pretty sure.
“Who the fuck are you?” Parker demanded. “And who the fuck is that?”
“I’m an impartial observer,” Fenwick said, “who’s going to make sure you’re strung up by your furry little toes if you start another war right now, especially on such shaky grounds, while this neighborhood’s still enjoying the aftermath of the battle a few days ago.” He flicked his cold, too-knowing eyes to the Kimballs and shot them a pointy-toothed not-smile that would’ve given most normal people screaming nightmares.
Bill Kimball stood his ground, although he wavered a little; his son and his men took a step back, looking like they wanted to scramble into their SUV and roll up all the windows.
“That was Hawthorne who took your vamps,” Bill said defensively. “We had nothing to do with it.”
“The hell you didn’t, and don’t think that’s over,” Dor put in. “And since you asked so politely, I’m not necessarily an impartial observer, even though he is. I’d be just as happy as a combatant.” He wasn’t smiling. If he had, I thought I might have broken for one of the cars, and he was kind-of-sort-of on the same side as me, this time around. “Your neck looks like a sturdy target for practicing my swing, Kimball. It’s all in the