Changed by Fire (Phoenix Rising #6) - Harper Wylde Page 0,4

ever done with my life thus far. Even doing it to protect her, the words had tasted like ash on my tongue, and I thanked the practice I’d received over the years so they’d come out as honeyed lies, perfect to the Council’s prejudiced ears. Aiding the rebellion—which was the only way we stood a chance of overthrowing the depraved Council—was all that kept me going during this trying time. I hated being away from Nix. I hated not getting to hold her in my arms. But the councilmen had revenge in their eyes and a vendetta in their black hearts, a death wish against my mate and friends, and I’d do whatever it took to protect them. Even sacrificing my own happiness, or even worse, my life.

So here I sat, sipping the burning liquid that spread fire throughout my stomach while letting it relax me into a semblance of casual I didn’t feel internally. I’d watch and I’d wait, and when the time was appropriate, I’d slip away and retire to my chambers here within the lodge—the only place I found peace in this enemy territory I once truly called home.

“Joshua,” Stepanov called, snapping me out of my reverie and pulling my attention down the table to where he was seated. I worked hard to stare past the half naked woman unbuttoning his shirt, peeling it back to reveal pale skin and a toned physique. Thanks to our genetics, most shifters stayed in their prime regardless of age. Gaspard, for instance, had visibly aged, but he was one of the most powerful shifters I knew.

“Mmm,” I hummed, arching an eyebrow in practiced nonchalance. I kept a confident, cool air about myself, one I knew the calculating Stepanov approved of.

He gazed at me shrewdly, and a cruel smile tugged one corner of his lips. “I think you’ve sulked long enough. Pick a woman tonight and have your fill,” he said. A quick flick of his eyes had the servants running off to the side of the dining room and pulling the double doors open to allow three more women to enter, each wearing a demeaning outfit that put their assets on display. Only one of them proudly flaunted what she had, obviously willing to use her body to her advantage. There were still shifters who wished to gain the Council’s favor, even if it was in bed, hoping they’d be spared the impending wrath that was clearly brewing.

A dangerous move to be sure, one they desired would be to their benefit. While there had been many shifters who fled to the rebellion, there were far too many preening mythologicals left to bolster the Council, inflating their egos as they attached themselves like leeches.

“Yes,” Maldonado drawled, his Puerto Rican accent thicker with the buzz he had going. The metal goblet in his hand was garish, and he sipped from it as he assessed my choices over the rim of his glass. The fingers of his other hand trailed lazily along the bare back of the girl on his lap, dressed in just a bra and a long, flowing skirt. She tried desperately to hide her discomfort, but I could tell every execution Maldonado had ever performed was branded on her brain by the way she tried to keep her hands away from his stomach. Instead, she twined one through his thick, dark hair and ran her other hand over the expensive, black button-down he wore, letting her fingers play along his chest. “Which woman calls to you, young Councilman?” he goaded, the last word sounding more condescending than anything else. Maldonado had never liked me much, but perhaps that was because I had always been the natural choice as a leader over his pseudo nephew, Griff—a cocky griffin shifter who thought much too highly of himself and would have made a terrible politician, though I knew from my father that Maldonado had argued he take my new position.

“Stepanov, Maldonado, is this really necessary? Leave the poor boy alone. He’s had enough to deal with between Annika’s treachery and his new duties with the Council, he doesn’t need to worry about these kinds of trivial matters.” My father waved a hand in front of himself as though he could dismiss the women Stepanov had summoned. While the power among the Council was supposed to be equal, everyone knew Stepanov held just a little more than the rest—especially since he had Maldonado and Rahal in his back pocket. With Councilmen LaCroix and Khan