At some point in the night I must’ve finally drifted off, because next thing I knew I was waking to banging at the door.
I groaned and threw an arm over my eyes. It was way too early for door banging.
My bedroom door burst open and then Brock was standing there, shirtless, with tousled hair, and dark stubble that made his eyes look even brighter than usual.
He skimmed my exposed leg all the way up to my thigh, then met my sleepy gaze. “It’s your vampire lawyer. Do we still trust him?”
Seeing Brock with his shirt off, I momentarily forgot how to speak. “Croft? Yeah, he’s cool.” I sat up, and ran a hand through my long, dark, tangled hair. The covers fell to my waist, showcasing my tiny tank top and thin cotton shorts.
He eyed me from top to bottom—twice. “Put some clothes on. I’ll make coffee. Decaf for you.” Then he shut the door.
I was wearing clothes! Unlike him. But I knew the alpha meant he didn’t want me half dressed in front of another man. And did he say decaf? What the flying fuck? Did he really expect me to go without caffeine just because I was pregnant?
Lame.
I looked down at my flat belly. Kid, you’d better not give me shit when you’re a teenager. I’m giving up real coffee for you. You’re going to owe me big-time.
After taking five minutes to brush my teeth, and pull on some ripped jeans and a t-shirt that showed most of my belly—I was going to flaunt it before it ballooned into something alien—I emerged into the living room.
Croft sat at the kitchen table silently watching Brock, who silently watched him right back. In front of the vampire was a large package. I shifted my gaze to the kitchen, where Cass was nearly naked, making breakfast. My eyes flicked back to the package with curiosity. It was long and skinny, and on top of it was a letter. The floral envelope made a lump form in my throat.
Gran.
Croft eyed me with confusion. “So, he slept over?”
Yes, we hated the alpha last week, and now we didn’t.
“On the couch—I’m pregnant with his baby,” I blurted out, too tempted by the possibility of shocking the immovable vamp.
His mouth popped open, but before he could respond I pointed to the package. “That’s Gran’s stationery.”
Croft collected himself. “Ah, yes. It appears Belinda had a magical safety deposit box in New York. In the event of her death, they were instructed to mail it to me. The courier, a burly warlock, instructed me to give it to you.”
My heart hammered in my chest. Magical safety deposit box in New York? That didn’t sound like Gran.
“Okay…” I swallowed.
“Well, thanks for dropping by,” the alpha prodded him.
“Brock!”
But Croft stood. “No, I really must be going. Just after I have a word with your imp for impersonating me last night.”
Oh shit. I’d totally forgotten about the drama at the seethe.
Cass wandered out of the kitchen, naked but for my Gran’s faded pink-polka-dot apron. “You rang?”
I wanted to face-palm, as I struggled not to think of how he was defiling my Gran’s beloved apron. I had fond memories of her baking heavenly chocolate chip cookies while simmering potions on the stovetop at the same time.
Using his vampire speed, Croft zipped across the room. Brock stood so quickly, he knocked over his chair before catching it.
Inches from Cass, the lawyer leaned down, and pinned the imp with his mesmerizing vamp eyes. “You will never impersonate me again. Are we understood?” His voice could cut glass. It was clear Cass had crossed a line last night, that shouldn’t have been crossed. Croft was on our side, but we needed to keep him there.
“Understood.” Cass put his hands up defensively. “We’re cool, man. I won’t do it again.”
Croft spun to meet my gaze. “I wasn’t involved in last night’s fiasco. I do not align with the siren, or the seethe lord.”
I nodded. “That’s good to know.” And it really was. I was going to make a list later of everyone who’d backed the siren.
Croft raised one eyebrow. “You both caused a lot of trouble last night. The seethe is now divided. We’re voting next week on whether to break off into two seethes or remain as one.”
My jaw dropped. “Oh man. I’m sorry… I—wait, who would run the new seethe?”
Seethe lords, once voted in, ruled for centuries before they could be kicked out of their positions. It was a powerful and long-lasting honor.
Croft grinned. “Me. So I guess if that happens, I owe you one.”
I chuckled. It’d be nice to have a seethe lord and lawyer owing me favors. “Good luck,” I wished him honestly.
Croft sniffed the air then, nostrils flaring. “Molly, meet me in my car. I’m hungry.”
“Kay.” Molly’s voice drifted down from the loft, sounding more timid than usual, and my stomach squirmed. I didn’t like the idea of Croft sucking on Molly like a leech one bit. It didn’t matter that he was on our side, it felt wrong now that she was my friend. I’d have to talk to Molly about it later.
With one last glare at Brock, a final warning look at Cass, and a nod to me, Croft left.
Molly traipsed downstairs in a baggy t-shirt that fell to her knees and followed the vamp outside. This was one of the weirdest unintentional breakfast parties I’d ever had.
“Eat,” Brock grumbled, pointing to a stack of toasted frozen waffles.
“I can’t eat now. My Gran sent me a package!” I strode to the table and picked up the letter.
“Fine, but at least take your prenatal vitamin.” Brock shoved a glass of orange juice and a giant pill in front of me.
“Since when do I have prenatal vitamins?” I looked at the ginormous thing, wondering how I’d swallow it without choking.
“Since I texted Sabine to drop them off outside at 4 A.M.” He eyed my hand, probably wondering why I wasn’t swallowing the small boulder yet.
Ugh. I tossed the thing in my mouth and guzzled it down forcefully. Ow. Next, I took in the floral paper again as I ran my fingertips across the lettering on the front. Gran had the best handwriting, all wild flourishes and fancy loops.
I was about to open the envelope when my gaze flicked to Brock. “What are you doing?” I asked, the alpha was hunched over the box, sniffing it.
Straightening, he pointed to it. “This thing reeks of magic.”
Excitement trilled inside of me. Maybe Gran left me a ton of spells! That would be awesome.
Deciding to read the letter last, I tore open the box, but all I could make out at first were wads of bubble wrap. Whatever was inside the box was too big to be any of Gran’s potions, which were normally enclosed in pocket-sized vials. “Magic on the go,” she’d called them.
I exchanged a glance with Brock. His was wary; mine was still excited. It’d been easy not to think too hard on my Gran since so much had gone down after her death, but her loss still hurt whenever my thoughts drifted her way—something that happened often in her cabin, where everything reminded me of her, and the good times we’d shared together.
Leaving me something after her death was just like her, always thinking of me, even when I didn’t realize it.
‘Cass, are you seeing this?’ I silently asked my imp friend, who’d returned to the kitchen to check on something.
‘Wouldn’t miss Gran’s parting gift for the world,’ he replied, surprising me when I discovered he was right behind me.
I couldn’t tear my eyes from the package, from the items Gran had touched in anticipation of her death.
“Well?” Brock prompted. “Are you going to find out what’s in there or what?”
My finger trailed along the length of the bubble wrap, as if it were as great a treasure as whatever it protected. “I just... can’t believe she left me something.”
At the tone of my voice, Cass took a step closer to me, but Brock circled the table and nudged him artfully out of the way, so he could be the one to comfort me instead.
‘Hey!’ Cass protested so that only I could hear. ‘You better tell your alpha that I’ve had your back long before he entered the picture.’
‘Thanks, Cass. I know that, and I’ll make sure he does too.’ But some other day, and it wasn’t just because I didn’t want the tiny imp too close to me, when all that separated me from his manly parts was a well-worn apron.
Brock stood at my side and draped an arm around my shoulders. His warmth radiated down my body and made me feel... safe, though as soon as I had the thought, I resisted it. I’d never relied on anyone to take care of me, not even Gran. I certainly wasn’t about to find safety in a man, no matter how strong and powerful the alpha werewolf was.
Cass huffed from behind me, and claimed his place at my other side. Then he huffed again, more loudly this time, and glared at Brock, as if the wolf were responsible for my tiny friend’s height challenge. Cass pulled a chair from the table, sliding it across the wood floor with an annoying screech, parked it next to me, and scrambled onto it.
Standing on the seat, he still wasn’t as tall as I, but when he crossed his pink, furry arms across his chest, and cocked a hip out to the side, he looked plenty fierce—granny apron notwithstanding.
“Go ahead, hon,” he encouraged. “I’m ready now.”
I wasn’t in the mood to deal with the pissing match going on, so I just smiled at both of them, pretending their possessive maneuvers didn’t bother me a bit.
Peeling back the top layers of bubble wrap, I peered at the smooth steel and gasped. “It… it looks like a... sword?”
My gaze shifted to Cass first, whose expression mirrored my own confusion. “Why would Gran leave you a weapon? She told us a hundred times that any witch worth her salt, has no need for one. That magic is far more powerful than any blade when wielded properly.”
“I think you might’ve just figured it out,” I answered, shoving away twenty or so odd years of resentment. I was the only witch in the Black family to be born with dud powers.
But I wasn’t a dud anymore, now was I? I was something far more... freakish and uncommon. Gran must have known, that much was clear now.
“I’m not a proper witch, remember?” I clarified. “Maybe she thought I needed it to protect myself.” But even as I spoke the words I knew that wasn’t right. Gran was aware that I could take care of myself, and she was proud of the fact. She had no patience for wussies, as she liked to say, and she’d told me more than once that she was glad I wasn’t one. Maybe she came across a badass sword, and wanted to leave it for me.
Gingerly, my hands lifted the weapon out of the box—I had a healthy respect for blades of any sort, even when they were apparently sheathed—and studied it through the last thin layer of bubble wrap.
Brock leaned forward. “I understand that this is emotional for you, and I’m not trying to hurry you, but you do realize this is the slowest unveiling in history, right?”