Spellbinder (Moonshadow #2)

Her apartment was located in a high-rise building, and it felt like a disappointment. She remembered it being spacious and comfortable, but as soon as they walked in the door, she knew it wouldn’t do.

“This is too closed in for me,” she said, walking over restlessly to the wall of windows to look out at the view. “Sure, the view is great, but you can’t open any of these windows. This is going to make me crazy.”

Morgan set the last of the luggage on the floor and joined her. “So we’ll look for something else,” he said with a shrug. “It’s an attractive enough place, but I’ve dealt with being a lycanthrope for far longer than you have. I think you still need room to roam.”

“Yeah,” she muttered. “I do too.”

Morgan had made arrangements to meet with the person he wanted to see that evening. She had overheard snatches of an intriguing phone conversation while she had been taking a shower, so after they hauled the luggage into her bedroom, she asked, “Do you want me to disappear when your person arrives?”

“Please don’t feel like you have to,” he told her with a relaxed smile. “But you might be more comfortable if you took an evening walk.”

That settled it. She wouldn’t leave now if the building were on fire.

Instead, she got to work unpacking while Morgan sat at her dining table with a glass of scotch and looked out over the city.

Soon there was an imperious knock on the door. Abandoning her chore, Sid stepped into the doorway of the bedroom to watch Morgan answer it. He stood back, holding the door wide.

A massive man prowled in. Close to seven feet in height, he dominated the apartment as soon as he set foot inside. He had raven black hair, dark bronze skin, fierce gold eyes, and he carried an invisible corona of Power that made Sid take an instinctive step back.

Dragos Cuelebre, Lord of the Wyr demesne in New York, had come to call.

“Hello,” Morgan said. He still sounded relaxed, even friendly.

Dragos’s eyes glittered hard as gold coins. “What are you doing in my city?”

“Well, I have a girlfriend now,” Morgan replied. “Also, I thought you might like to know that I’m no longer bound by a geas to obey Isabeau.”

“What?” Dragos rapped out.

The Wyr Lord’s body language carried so much leashed aggression, Sid launched out of the bedroom. Sticking out a hand, she hurried up to him, “Lord Cuelebre, I’m Sidonie Martel. It’s an honor to meet you.”

Dragos’s eyes narrowed. “You’re the musician that went missing in the UK. You’d been kidnapped.”

He made no effort to shake her hand, and feeling awkward, she dropped it by her side. “Yes, sir, that’s right.”

Dragos turned his deadly gaze back to Morgan. “Did you do that?”

“Me? No—oh, no. That was someone else entirely.” As Morgan turned to the dining table, he shot Sid a vivid, wry glance. “Have a drink with me, Dragos, and give me the chance to apologize.”

“I’ll skip the drink,” Dragos said. “Get to the point. Convince me why I shouldn’t burn you to a crisp.”

Morgan spun back again, but before he could say anything, Sid leaped in. She told the Wyr Lord, “Whatever he did in the past wasn’t his fault. Isabeau had him trapped in a geas. He didn’t have a choice about any of the things he did.”

Rubbing the back of his neck, Morgan murmured to her, “We should probably just have that printed on cards, so we can hand them out wherever we go.”

Dragos angled his head as he considered Sidonie. The force of his attention was difficult to bear, and he looked… He looked like…

Hot gold eyes captured her. Tell me the truth, the Wyr Lord whispered in her head. Let me see it in your mind.

Caught in his spell, she was helpless to stop the flood of images she gave him. In the space of a heartbeat, she gave him everything. The kidnapping, her imprisonment, the moments of heated tenderness with Morgan, the confrontation with Isabeau.

Her bargain with Azrael.

Abruptly, the connection snapped off, and she felt immersed, in Morgan’s familiar magic.

Shaken, she staggered. Somehow Morgan had come to be standing by her. He put a steadying arm around her, and when he stared at Dragos, he looked as dangerous as she had ever seen him look.

“If you try anything like that again,” Morgan growled. “We will become enemies in truth.”

“Stop,” she whispered to him, putting a hand on his chest. His muscles were rigid, and he was furious, but making an enemy of Dragos Cuelebre was the height of insanity. “He shouldn’t have done that without asking, but he also didn’t hurt me. If seeing my memories helped in any way, let’s just let it go.”

Dragos’s eyelids lowered over his hot gold gaze, hiding their expression. “I’ll take that drink after all,” he said suddenly. “While you tell me why you’re here.”

“We’re looking to relocate,” Sid said, while Morgan fought a battle with his temper. “I’m no longer human since I’ve been kidnapped, Morgan’s no longer bound to Isabeau, and we have… how many is it now? Eighteen lycanthropes who used to be Isabeau’s Hounds who need jobs and homes. This is my old apartment. It won’t do—we’re not all going to fit…”

Her lame attempt at a joke went over like a lead balloon as the two men glared at each other. Taking the scotch bottle, Dragos tipped it over the empty glass waiting on the table. Taking the glass, he drained it and set it back down.

He said to Morgan, “You endangered my mate and unborn son back in Hollywood.”

“Under Isabeau’s compulsion,” Morgan replied tightly.

“Yes, I saw that was the truth.” Dragos crossed his arms, and his stance relaxed. “Okay, I’ll let it go.”

Morgan shot a look at Sid that still sparked with temper, but, she saw, it was less than it had been before. He gave the Wyr Lord a nod. “That’s good to know.”

Dragos considered them, gold eyes narrowed. “Tell me why I should let lycanthropy into my back yard. It’s a communicable disease.”

“Yes, it is.” Morgan nodded. “But it’s a treatable one, if the victim who was bitten gets medical treatment right away. My Hounds are decent men. You can interview each one, if you like, and I’ll personally vouch for every one of them. And none of us go into a mindless frenzy at the full moon. I can’t say we won’t defend ourselves if we’re attacked for some reason, but we’ll take full responsibility for cleaning the situation up—and we won’t spread the lycanthropy virus. I give you my word.”

Sid’s new truthsense was just a baby bud on the vine, but even she heard the rock-solid sincerity in Morgan’s voice. She smiled to herself. That sincerity had gotten her through the darkest time in her life.

“Say I accept your word on that particular issue,” Dragos said as he considered each of them. “You’re not Wyr, but you shapeshift, and you’re very dangerous. You can live in my demesne if you swear fealty to me and live by Wyr laws. The same goes for any of your Hounds that wish to relocate. Those are my terms.”

Sid felt compelled to speak up. “We owe fealty to one of the gods. Will that interfere?”