“Cannot and will not defeat her alone.” His gaze held mine for several seconds, as if to add weight to his words. “Do not get involved in vampire politics, Risa. It will only end badly.”
It probably would, but it wasn’t like I had much of a choice. Like it or not, I was already involved. “Meaning you know what she is?”
“Yes, but few others do.”
“Well, I’m obviously one of the ones who missed that particular bulletin,” Riley cut in. “Here I was thinking she was just queen bee of the Directorate and one of the head honchos of the vampire council. Obviously, there’s a whole lot more to her story than that.”
“She’s a maenad—a worshipper of the Greek god Dionysus, and imbued with his magic and power,” Quinn said, keeping his gaze on mine. “And it is part of the reason I have never challenged her.”
“The other reason being you now have too much to lose.”
A smile ghosted his lips, but it failed to lift the concern in his dark eyes. “Yes.”
“Then you understand my reasons.”
“Understanding them does not mean I agree with them.”
“No.” I took another of those noncalming deep breaths. “I appreciate your concern and your desire to help. I really do. But this is my fight—”
“No one in this family fights alone, Risa.” Riley’s voice was as steely as her gaze. “No one.”
“But this time, we have no choice. I’m sorry, Aunt Riley, but as amazing as you are, as skilled as you are, you are, in the end, only mortal. Unfortunately, Hunter is not.” I hesitated. “And neither am I.”
She raised an eyebrow, her expression unconvinced. “Last I heard, you were only half Aedh. That makes you as mortal as everyone else in this pack.”
“Perhaps when this quest first began that was true,” Azriel said quietly. “But no longer.”
Riley’s gaze flicked to him. “And how, exactly, did you manage that little—” She hesitated. “It has something to do with you pulling her back to life, hasn’t it?”
“Yes. I imbued her with my life force.”
“That does not make her immortal,” Quinn said. “She can still die, just as you can.”
“Yes, but because we can draw on each other’s energy, we have a greater chance of survival.” He paused, his expression giving no hint of the fierceness I could suddenly feel within him. “Trust me when I say that Hunter—or anyone else in either this world or the next—will not take her away from me.”
“Sentiments I totally understand,” Quinn said. “But the fact still remains—the sharing does not make her immortal.”
“No one is truly immortal,” Azriel agreed. “Even the fates can be destroyed given the right knowledge. But she will become Mijai on death, and we are far harder to destroy.”
Harder, but not impossible, I thought grimly. The reason he became a Mijai in the first place was because he’d sought revenge for the murder of a reaper friend. But I didn’t say anything—there was no point in giving my aunt any further ammunition. And although Quinn was undoubtedly aware of both the strengths and the weaknesses of the reapers, I had to wonder how much of that knowledge he’d passed on to Riley. He wanted to keep her as safe as we did, after all.
“All of which sounds very convincing,” Riley commented, “but it doesn’t alter the fact—”
“Riley,” I said softly. “You know how much I love you, so please don’t take this the wrong way—”
She raised her eyebrows, a faint smile touching her lips despite the seriousness in both her expression and her eyes. “But I’m not your mother, so kindly butt out. Or words to that effect, right? You do know how impossible that is for me, don’t you?”
“Yes, and yes,” I said. “The thing is, you have a family now—a family you’ve fought long and hard to have—”
“Which is why I won’t—”
“But I’m not one of them,” I continued over her voice. “And if it comes to a battle with Hunter, then the task is mine and Azriel’s. Not yours. Not Quinn’s. Not Rhoan’s. You all have too much to lose if you go up against her.”
“And you haven’t?” She snorted. “You’re pregnant, are you not?”
I blinked, but I guess it shouldn’t have come as a surprise that she knew, given that she’d spent so much time by my bedside after Azriel had pulled me back from death. She might not be able to hear the deeper lines of communication between Azriel and me, but if Quinn could read my surface thoughts, then she undoubtedly could. Azriel—and the child we’d created—would have been uppermost on my mind even when I’d been unconscious.
“Yes, I am,” I said. “And that is why I cannot understand your willingness to risk the lives of your own children for someone who is not, in the end, of your bloodline.”