Page 14 of Hunted (Love and Revenge #5)

Robin

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T he workroom where Sanka crafted his magical inventions usually smelled faintly of smoke, and spicy demon magic. Tonight, however, it also reeked of ward ink, metal, and sour desperation. All this nonsense with Acacia was really stinking up my beautiful nest.

Ruya, Cicely, Dusek, and Sadavir weren’t here.

Judging by the lurid sounds coming from behind Ruya’s bedroom door when I passed by, my omega was currently spending some quality time with her faun.

I didn’t begrudge them their moment of revelry—their pleased moans and soft laughter were the best thing I’d heard in weeks, if I was being honest.

I had no clue where Sadavir was. I hadn’t sensed his aura in Ruya’s room. That I might have been less glad about. He was probably off hovering over his vampire pet, or pulverizing every punching bag in the gym. More power to him.

I refused to think about the parallels of our struggles. Ugh. Never.

And Dusek was taking his turn monitoring the security cameras and wards that protected the entire Fox Theater. And probably brooding all the while.

I sighed. I really needed to do more to draw the bubak out of his self-imposed isolation and finally convince him to fuck one of us—me, Ruya, Cicely.

.. anyone, really. I had a feeling the whole court—aside from Martina, of course—would welcome him to their bed, if he could just get over his fear of causing fear.

And his idiotic belief that he was a monster incapable of garnering attraction or affection.

I rubbed my forehead. Focus dragon. I had better things to do that worry about everyone else’s love affairs or my long-standing, glacially slow seduction of one stubborn bubak.

When I entered the workroom, Sanka was muttering to himself as he toiled over some new trinket—probably yet another experimental charm for Josh.

Yukio and Martina were seated at opposite ends of the ironwood table, both absorbed in grim calculation.

Lines and circles scrawled across sheets of paper and one poor, abused whiteboard, each marking a supply cache, an allied contact, all the potential resources and fallback plans we had amassed over the years.

I had contacts and connections working on quietly sussing out where the emperor had hidden himself away after our last failed attempt on his life.

But they had to be careful not to draw attention, and so far, they weren’t turning up much.

All we could do for now was plan the general outlines of an attack and bide our time. I hated it.

I stood in the doorway longer than I should have, just watching.

An unaccustomed sort of nervous anticipation had lodged itself in my chest, alongside all the other—far less convenient—emotions I struggled with these days.

This was it. We were getting close to the end.

The day I would finally kill the man who had murdered my family and destroyed my entire dragon clan.

I knew it was very likely that I wouldn’t walk away unharmed—or even walk away at all—once my revenge was complete.

But that was a price I had long ago accepted to avenge my people.

I was growing weary of this whole game. I just wanted to get it over with.

Martina looked up first, no doubt able to sense my weary brooding.

“Robin,” she said. Her tone was neutral. Measured. As if she knew what I was thinking, and disapproved. But she would be fine. They all would. And better off, safer, once my great revenge plans were concluded—with or without me to lord over them as alpha.

Yukio didn’t glance up. “You're late,” he muttered, wings snapping in agitation as he crossed out something he had just written, glaring down at the paper in front of him.

“I can hardly be late to a meeting I didn’t know was happening,” I said, stepping inside. Ruya’s ridiculous cat followed me. She had been hounding my footsteps for days now, trailing just a hint of Ruya’s magic along with her, but I ignored the beast. “Have I missed something earth-shaking?”

Sanka strode over and pressed his fingers to a few runes on the spell-table, and I recognized the wash of magic he had activated, a spell he’d invented and carved into the surface to rejuvenate and energize anyone working there.

The three of them all took a deep breath in unison, then sighed in relief.

“No,” Martina said in answer to my question. “Nothing important. Just a massive headache. How the hell do you keep track of all these moving parts in your head ? And what were you even planning to do with all of them? I’ve got lists and diagrams and I’m still losing the thread.”

I shrugged, smirking a little. “Mmm... perhaps I was simply born with a superior mind. The perks of royal blood.”

Sanka snorted. “More like a superior knack for becoming stupidly obsessed and not sleeping or eating when you’re focused. Which makes you look like you’re way smarter than you are—you just spend hours memorizing everything, while the rest of us are off doing more important shit.”

I ignored him and his annoyingly accurate assessment, and took the seat nearest the wall.

The old chair creaked a little—one of the original pieces from before I had taken possession of The Fox and restored it to its former glory.

I leaned back and folded my arms. This place was a family heirloom.

And one I had shed much blood, sweat, and tears in remaking.

For some reason, that knowledge weighed heavy today.

A bittersweet sense of impending loss wedged its way under my chest. I would hate to leave my nest and my hoard behind, when it was time.

Usually, all the strategy and planning was my responsibility, as was fitting for the alpha of a clan, and leader of a court.

I told them the plans, and they merely worked out the weapons, spells, and logistics needed to execute those plans.

But this time, they had all insisted on being involved in the planning.

Yukio said it was because they each had their own reasons for wanting to play a part in ending the syndicate, their own personal desire for revenge, and it wasn’t fair for me to hog all the fun. But while that may be true, I knew the real reason they’d all wanted to be involved.

They knew I was struggling. Fighting a battle with my beast and my missing magic that I couldn’t win. I had become a weak leader. An object of pity. It was pathetic. Wholly unacceptable for someone of my status.

And yet, I allowed it. I allowed them to try their hand at scheming, and plotting, and organizing all the chess pieces I had gathered over the years.

Because apparently some people thought accepting help from others was some sort of.

.. show of strength. I was still reserving judgement on that particular point. But I’d humor them for now.

I studied my manicure, noting how quickly my nails had been growing lately.

My dragon, wanting to sprout claws so we could rend and tear our way to power.

“And?” I drawled, as if it was entirely unimportant.

As if it wasn’t killing me to sit back and let them have at it. “Having any great epiphanies, are we?”

Martina huffed. She looked tired. Her usually close-cropped hair had grown out just enough to become a frizzy mess, and her eyes had the shadowed, sunken look that said she hadn’t been feeding often enough.

Sanka looked a little harried, too, now that I really studied him.

He was just a bit too focused on his project.

And too pissed off when something went wrong—leading him to set flames to the charm he’d been working on, melting it and fusing it to the workbench.

Ah, Sanka. If he didn’t have his beta nature to temper his deep feelings of protectiveness, he’d be a danger to everyone around him. The beautiful, talented buffoon.

Yukio looked exactly the same as he always did—crisp, elegant, and brittle around the edges.

But my frosty little popsicle would die before he ever admitted that something as trivial as stress might be affecting him.

I didn’t have to see visible signs to know he was feeling it.

I’d known him and loved him for decades.

I knew him better than he knew himself sometimes.

The same could be said for all three of them... just one more thing I risked losing when I finally faced off with the emperor. One more thing I’d hate to leave behind when my purpose was fulfilled.

I gestured at the notes littered across the table and the messy map scrawled on the whiteboard, desperate for a distraction. “What were you working on?”

“Making sure we had the most up to date and comprehensive list of weapons,” Yukio said.

“Pulling the most helpful ones from our stockpiles throughout the city. Reviewing which safehouses we could use if needed. Trying to mitigate the casualties that will happen among the unaligned on the streets and among our allies, when Acacia eventually turns on us and decides she doesn’t need us anymore. ”

“She won’t,” I said. “At least, not until after we kill the emperor for her. And at that point we’ll be expecting it and fully prepared to end her.”

“You sound confident,” Martina said. “As if Acacia isn’t completely unhinged and unpredictable. You know she could decide to murder us all tomorrow on a bloodlust-fueled whim. Nothing she does is based on logic. I can’t tell if your attitude is courage or delusion.”

“Necessity,” I said easily. “And faith in my abilities, and the abilities of my court.” Then, relenting to the urge, I leaned forward and placed my own notes onto the table.

I’d spent all last night neatly writing out all the details I usually just kept in my head.

.. so the court could see my amazing inner workings and use that as a springboard for their plans.

They couldn’t really think they were going to do all of this without me.

Martina sighed. “You’re pushing too hard. You’re supposed to be taking a break.”