Fatal Circle

“Should be yours, John. If you’re dirija, help is at your command.”

Joh

“Ha!” Ig struggled forward, half of his body noncompliant. Hector moved to help him but the waere lord shouted wordlessly and the big man stopped. We were forced to watch long, awkward minutes of him using his right arm to jerk the useless left one into his lap, then drag his left leg across the bed to the edge so he could try to sit where Joh

When Ig finally had his body where he wanted it, he was breathing as if he’d just finished a marathon. Ferociously, he said, “Talk of what you want? I don’t want to live like this!”

Ig stabbed a finger at Joh

Stricken, Joh

Ig’s howl of anger followed us down the stairwell.

CHAPTER ELEVEN

Joh

He understood and shut it off.

His hands left the grips and rested on his thighs. His head fell back, as if the sunlight might burn away his misery and pain. The bright rays kissed his skin, gleamed in his hair, and glistened on the earrings and brow rings. He still hadn’t shaved, but the extra scruff suited him.

I waited.

“The first time I changed, Ig was there. He’d crossed my path at a deli, scented me. He didn’t recognize me, so he knew I was either a new waere in the area breaking the law by not registering with the pack, or I was flat-out a brand-new waere. He had me followed.” Joh

Someday, he would have to reveal to the waere community that he was Domn Lup. But not today. Today he was reeling because his father figure was dying. “C’mon,” I said, swinging my leg over the bike to sit behind him. My arms circled his waist and I laid my head against his shoulder.

He gripped the handlebars. “Where to?”

Last night we’d just cuddled, I’d needed rest. Today, I thought I might know the answer he needed. “Let’s just ride.”

Surveying the theater, I had another awe-filled reaction. The large display screens were now wired into the upstage framework and a logo like the one on the gray-primer door floated around in each screen, spi

A large circular dais covered with thick black carpeting was now situated downstage center. A big chair was centered on the dais. Accented by ornately carved wood, it had a thronelike appearance, but the padded seat, back, and arms made it look comfortable, as well. An angled beam of amber light focused on the chair shifted slightly. I glanced up. Someone was adjusting the stage lights above us.

We moved farther into the room. When the workers observed us they stopped and stared at us. One of them, a giant of a man whose height and girth would top even Hector’s, was carrying a divan all by himself across the stage. He wore a Cleveland Browns football jersey and dark blue jeans. He became aware of the quiet, saw us, and set the long piece of furniture down and stood like the rest.

Joh

If we continued on into the little alcove, we’d be vulnerable. And trapped. I tapped Joh

Joh

The big man had eyes as black as pitch, but his round face and thick arms were ta

I accepted the envelope. “Thank you. What’s your name?”

“Mountain.”

“Thank you, Mountain. You’re certainly getting the renovations done fast. It’s really amazing.”

He bowed his head and backed away. “Thank you, Ms. Witch.” Before he disappeared through the doorway to go back to work, I saw a straggly ponytail of black hair that fell past the ends of his long shirt.

Ms. Witch?

I opened the envelope and handed it to Joh

The access code for your chambers has been changed. 1109—your foster daughter’s birthday. Now only you and I know . . . unless you share this information.

—M

I handed the note to Joh

We put the food away. I was happy with the pasta and frozen vegetable selections, but Joh

There were still questions from earlier rolling around my brain. “Can I ask you something?”

“Just did.”

I hit his arm with the box of spaghetti. “Beau said he hadn’t seen you in years. Is he not normally around?”

“If things are still like they used to be, he has a shop, but keeps odd hours there. When he’s not at the shop, he’s at the bar.” Joh

Ig had used the words “come back,” hadn’t he? “Why? If Ig’s like a father to you . . .”

“Like most fathers and sons, Ig and I had our words. He’s wanted me to be his second since he met me. He wanted me to learn how it works, to be ready to, one day, take full authority. But I wanted to front a rock band. We butted heads.” He set the cooler down at the end of the bar and took a deep, deep breath. “He’s still adamant that I lead his pack. Only now, I can’t just assume the role through rank, I’d have to kill him for it.”

I was only a little stu

“No. But people are people.” He transferred lunch meats and cheeses to the refrigerator. “Strength leads. If one will yield, the fight is over. But that doesn’t happen much.”

“And Ig won’t yield because he wants to die.”

Joh