Page 298 of Commanding Blood And Bonds

She hummed aloud, tucking strands of pale hair behind her ears. Very well. Thanks.

I didn’t do much.

No, but it’s nice having someone to talk to about these things. Even if this mind-to-mind thing is unnatural as fuck.

You get used to it.

If you say so, Angel of Death.

Ugh, not you too.

She cackled, clapping her hands over her mouth before rising from the sofa and glancing back. You live up to the legends, you know. They say never meet your heroes, but…she shrugged airily. This was pretty cool.

Aloud she said, “I’m grabbing a drink. Do you want something, Alvara?”

I shook my head at the segue. “Please. Our family calls me Ally.”

Her hair tossed over her shoulder as she looked back toward Magnolia—currently squirming in Aren’s arms, laughter ringing through the room.

“Okay,” Blythe said with a prim nod. “Nickname basis with Aren’s second. This just keeps getting weirder.”

Laughing, I replied, “And I’m alright. Thanks for asking.”

She nodded, dipped her chin reverently toward August, and started for the kitchen.

But August—who had, of course, eavesdropped on the entire mental conversation through our Bond—had other plans.

“Blythe! Wait up. I have a question.”

FIFTY-SIX

COMPANY

CYRUS

“Ask stupid questions, get stupid answers, little brother.”

“Piss off,” I muttered into my beer, draining the last of the pint like it might numb the ache that had been burning in my ribs all damn day. The Rougarou was packed. Music thumped through the walls, two nomad biker crews had commandeered the billiards tables, Wings were out in force looking for trouble, and the Guard had claimed a back booth, elbow-deep in fried gator and Boudin balls. Chaos reigned, per usual.

“What’d you want us to say?” Jo teased, dragging one manicured nail along the salted rim of her margarita.

I smeared condensation into a streak on the bar, eyes fixed on the amber inside my glass. “I dunno. Maybe ‘forget about her’?”

“I’d love to,” Cali laughed, “if I believed you could.”

“You’ve gotta get to the bottom of what happened to her last time, Cy,” Jo pressed, licking the salt from her finger. Cali grabbed her wrist and popped it into her own mouth, sucking the tip shamelessly.

“Get a room.”

“Jealous?” Cali grinned, leaning in to kiss her.

“No,” I groused. I sounded jealous.

I wasn’t. I was irritated.

Irritated that Grayshell’s most wanted had stood in my throne room yesterday and I hadn’t even known because Mother was scheming with the motherfucker.

Irritated that Freya didn’t give a single shit about the Bond we shared. That she’d probably reject it.