Dead Heat (Alpha and Omega) - Patricia Briggs Page 0,49
this is a powerful fae. Mind control, forcing someone to act against their nature and perform a specific task, especially a task repugnant to them, is rare. At least outside Underhill it is rare. Leaving such an enemy alive is stupid. Find this one and kill him if you can.” He snorted, and his voice was full of self-directed amusement. “I’ll deal with the Gray Lords. You go kill whatever is attacking children. And tell Hosteen that I authorized it.” He muttered, “Not that he’d wait for my approbation, either.”
The Marrok ended the call.
Charles loosened his shoulders to lessen the tension of Brother Wolf’s eagerness. “I told you he would not object,” he murmured. They would hunt, but it would take patience and care. Hunting a fae was different from hunting a deer or elk. More challenging—and more satisfying.
Then his phone rang.
“You couldn’t tell she was witchborn until you tasted her blood?” asked his father.
“You can leave,” Hosteen told Anna. He’d been pacing for the better part of the twenty minutes that had passed since he’d driven Kage and Maggie out of the guest room, with a brief pause when Charles had come in.
He stopped moving, possibly accidentally, between Anna and the bed where Chelsea lay in the comalike sleep that marked the Change from human to werewolf. He put his hands on his hips, stared at Anna, and waited for her to obey him.
Alphas were used to people obeying them.
Anna raised her eyebrow at him and continued to knit, rocking herself in a dark wooden rocking chair that was a lot more comfortable than it had looked when she sat down in it. Knitting was new for her.
She’d started with quilting. She loved the feel and looks of the fabric. It was like making stained-glass pictures with cloth, and it was an effective gateway drug. Weekly lessons with one of the people who kept the little craft store in Aspen Creek had led her into a whole world. She’d found knitting particularly useful because it let her wait without being restless.
“I’m not going to hurt her,” Hosteen said, nodding toward the bed.
“Okay,” Anna said, continuing to work on the sweater she was making for Charles.
The last one had not turned out very well, and she was determined that this one would be better. It was red, his favorite color. She wasn’t ready to try any kind of fancy pattern yet, but so far the sweater was looking like the picture in her how-to book, so she was encouraged. Except, that is, for those weird little holes that crept in here and there.
“Go,” Hosteen said with power.
She gave him a chiding click of her tongue, though it wasn’t diplomatic. But she wasn’t feeling very charitable toward him because he thought she was stupid. Anna could tell when someone was trying to lie with the truth. It didn’t tingle her magic werewolf senses, but her plain old body language skills were plenty adequate. Sure, he wouldn’t hurt Chelsea: death can be painless.
The idea that Hosteen would kill Chelsea would never have occurred to her. For one thing, murder was murder, even among werewolves. But Kage had been worried, and Maggie had been emphatic. Hosteen’s actions since then weren’t exactly subtle. She didn’t know Chelsea, but she wasn’t going to let anyone be murdered on her watch.
“Charles asked me to stay here,” she said, rather than confronting Hosteen with his lie. “You aren’t my Alpha—and even if you were, he can’t make me do anything, either.” She tapped herself in the chest with one of her needles and half sang, “Omega. Me.” Dropping into her own voice, she said, “As an Omega wolf, I don’t have the urge to obey you. At all. Not even the tiniest bit. Don’t worry, it makes the Marrok crazy, too.” There was another of those funny holes in the row of otherwise neat stitches she’d just finished.
“What do you think I’m going to do to her?” he asked. “She’s the mother of my great-grandchildren.”
Anna met his eyes. “Then why do you want to be alone with her so badly?”
He flinched from her gaze. “Two wolves aren’t necessary,” he said. “I can keep her wolf in line, and you are, forgive me, not family.”
“I can help her keep herself in line,” she told him, “because I am an Omega wolf.” She quit speaking, holding up her knitting again. There was another stupid hole. “But that’s not why I’m here. I’m here to protect her from you.”