Page 4

Milly was a welcome distraction from the issues of feeding a growing dragon and interacting with formerly assumed dead relatives appearing from the past. She hugged him hard, his sides creaking in complaint. “Milly, need to breathe.”

“Shush,” she ordered him, squeezing harder for a second. “Let me love on you.”

He snorted in amusement and she let him go. He made a show of dragging in a deep breath, making her lightly smack his bicep at his playing. “How are you faring, my dear boy?”

Thankfully they were alone in the foyer, both of them sitting on the piano bench. Breakfast ended with Eroch gnawing on a beef rump roast Angel found in the freezer, his dragon cheerfully thawing it himself into layers of charred meat. The kitchen was a mess, but the floor was stone tile and a mop would take care of the worst of the resulting chaos.

His guests were upstairs, fed and getting dressed for the day, duffle bags of clothing and personal items retrieved from the car that was listing heavily nose-first in the drainage ditch on the road in front of the Mansion. They appeared to have packed in a hurry and didn’t have much with them. It gave credence to Simeon’s guess that Ignacio, Ashwin, and their son left wherever they had been staying in a hurry.

“I’m not dealing at all.” Angel said it calmly, despite what it implied about his current mental state. He scoffed in frustration at himself. “Threat of violence from the Council? Easy. Someone trying to steal my dragon? Child’s play.”

“Long-lost relatives who were absent from the worst moments of your life?” Milly interjected wryly. She then sighed and ran a hand over his head much as she had when he was a teenager and frustrated by his peers. “Yes, I see the problem. Not something anyone is prepared for, I believe. Don’t be hard on yourself, dear. I haven’t a clue what to do, either.”

“Gee, thanks, Milly.”

“I’m here to help.”

That made Angel chuckle despite the chaotic emotions swirling inside him.

“Metcalfe is charming and nice to look at, and the boy is well-mannered for his age.” Milly stated calmly, leaning back against the piano’s heavy wooden key lid. Milly was a former academy teacher, and had plenty of experience with unruly children.

Angel hummed in agreement. “Ashwin was an actor in Elizabethan England. Legend has it he trod the boards for Shakespeare. Charming is putting it mildly.”

Milly’s eyes went wide, and she glanced toward the stairs as if expecting to see Ashwin swanning down the steps reciting sonnets. “That’s an unexpected and impressive history.”

“Yeah.” Angel paused. “His acting skills might help explain how he and Ignacio were able to maintain the charade that Ignacio was dead.”

“Until something blew their cover and they raced here, pursued by the Council.”

Angel nodded, grimacing, his jaw tight. Milly sighed quietly, and put a soft hand on his shoulder, squeezing. “I know you’re angry, my dear boy. I’m angry for you, too. Do your best not to let that anger control you.”

If anyone other than Simeon or Milly were to give him such advice he would have snapped—but Milly had seen him at his most impetuous when he was a teenager, and then again as a traumatized young twenty-something man raising an equally traumatized younger brother. Angel had grown in the eleven years since that fateful day he nearly lost everything. Especially in the last year and a half, Angel had traveled light-years from the rash and abrasive hotheaded young man he used to be—and Milly was right. Despite his rage and grief rekindled in the wake of Ignacio’s return, he had people to protect and enemies to defeat and he would be at a disadvantage if he let his emotions reign unchecked.

“I’ll do my best.”

“I know.” They sat side by side, shoulders touching, Milly’s arm now hugging him close. Even with the expansive foyer around them, it felt like they were in a cozy nook somewhere, hanging out while discussing annoying students and difficult parents.

“My new student,” Angel said abruptly, glad to change the subject.

“The young man, Rael? The practitioner-werewolf hybrid?” Milly asked, accepting the topic change with a soft smile.

“That’s him,” Angel answered. “I might need to make him an apprentice. He has no control over his magic, which is dangerous for everyone, not just him.”

“Poor boy. No one can expect control from him at this stage—his magic and affinity both manifested in the most difficult manner. I can’t imagine what he’s going through—he grew up thinking he was a mundane human with some werewolf traits.”

“He’s got a month until freshman orientation at Harvard, and right now his magic reacts with lethal consequences when he feels threatened or in danger. I don’t want him to be helpless, but an apprenticeship bond might help rein in the more devastating aspects of his magic. I don’t want to bind his powers, and the university won’t let him attend if he has no control.”

Milly nodded, agreeing. “And you just let Daniel go from the apprenticeship bond you shared with him, and you’re uncertain about gaining a new bond with a relative stranger, even if they are your student.”

“That sums it up.” Angel paused, then leaned into Milly a bit more, her arm tightening around his shoulder and neck. “Is it wrong to take a new apprentice when we’re on the horizon of another war?”

“Things are going to be dangerous regardless of whether or not Rael is your apprentice. I say you fill him in on everything that’s going on here, and let him make the decision. He’s an adult, for all that he’s so young. Trust him to make the choice for himself.”

“I’ll give him a call now. No point in waiting.”

The library was the only place with enough seating and space for the family meeting. Though calling it a family meeting at this point felt a bit awkward. Rael Morrow, his new student, was on his way with his mate, Jameson, to talk to Angel about his options. He doubted the Council would make a move on the werewolf alpha and Rael—unless a werewolf-practitioner hybrid was of interest to them, but considering the High Council of Sorcery’s known bias against shapeshifters, Angel doubted it. He did advise caution, though, hence Jameson accompanying his young mate to the Mansion.

Daniel and Rory were lugging heavy antique furniture into a better arrangement, less spaced out, so none of them would need to shout when the meeting began.

His pocket vibrated and Angel checked his phone and read the message from his brother. “Isaac and Constantine are gonna be late—they had something come up.”

“Anything we need to worry about?” Daniel paused, holding a large armchair off the floor by a foot, the chair easily weighing a hundred pounds or more, and Daniel unbothered by the weight. Angel knew the High Court Sidhe were stronger than humans, and that merely proved even further than appearances how much Daniel had changed in less than a day.

“He said he would explain when they got here.”

Simeon entered the library from a service door on the far wall from the entrance to the foyer, needing to take the servants’ halls to avoid the sunlight. Angel held out his hand and Simeon joined him with a smile. His strong fingers were ice-cold, but warmed quickly, and Angel hardly noticed the transition in body temperatures anymore. It used to be a more jarring sensation, but Angel was accustomed to the quirks being mated to a vampire brought to his life.

Simeon lifted Angel’s hand to his mouth and he pressed a soft kiss to the inside of Angel’s wrist. Angel caught himself staring at Simeon’s mouth, and he made himself take a deep breath and remember they had company. Simeon was smugly satisfied at Angel’s reaction, a slight quirk to his lush lips betraying him.

“Is Cian joining us for the meeting?” Simeon asked him as Angel settled into his side under his arm.

“Not sure, honestly. He and Rory are a set, and the sidhe mound is too powerful a tool to sideline.” Angel paused. “War makes things messy. Ethics forgotten or set aside. I’m not sure if asking him to take part is the right thing to do—he is technically my prisoner for the next thousand years.”

Rory, even being on the far side of the large library, must have heard Angel and Simeon, as he looked their way for a brief moment. He said nothing, but his expression shifted to the far-away look in his eyes that Angel had learned meant Rory was talking mentally to his twin. He was curious about the topic but resisted the urge to pry. Neither Brennan brother was hesitant in talking to him, so if it was important they would come to him.

“I’ve got Rael and his mate coming, so Cian might need to be absent from the meeting. He is supposed to be dead and Rael doesn’t know about him. Rory can keep Cian apprised of what we discuss.”

Pressed to Simeon’s side, he felt when his mate’s phone vibrated with a notification. Dressed in dark-gray trousers and a skintight black Henley shirt instead of his usual suits, Simeon had to dig into the tight fabric stretched across his thighs as Angel watched in open and blatant appreciation.

Simeon unlocked his phone once he pulled it from his pocket, and he tilted the screen so Angel could see the text from Batiste.

Batiste

I’m bringing two allies with me, and I have important news.

“Alright, I’m telling Cian to stay out of sight. I trust Batiste, but I have no idea who he’s bringing to the meeting.”

Rory was at his side as if he’d appeared by magic, and Angel managed to stifle his urge to jump, startled. “I’ve let Cian know. He’s amenable. I’ll have my mind open to him the entire time, so he won’t miss anything.”

Angel nodded, grateful. “Thank you. I’d like to maintain the illusion that he’s dead for as long as possible. Please tell him I appreciate it.”

Simeon was swiftly texting his master back, thumb a blur. “I’ll let Master Batiste know that we’re keeping Cian out of sight so they don’t accidentally reveal anything to our guests.”

“Thank you.”

He met Rael and his mate, Jameson, out front as the car pulled into the roundabout that circled the dormant fountain. Gravel crunched under the tires, and it was the only sound aside from the soft purr of the sports car’s engine. Midday in the summer, the grounds should be alive with insects humming, birds calling, the wind, grasses rustling. Yet it was eerily quiet, everything subdued.

Eroch nearly vibrated with eagerness as he sat primly beside Angel on the last step, tail twitching, head held high, long neck arched, wings perked up a bit off his back. He resembled a Gothic gargoyle at a distance, and Angel hoped Rael and Jameson took the difference in Eroch’s size well since they last saw him a couple weeks ago.

The alpha, Jameson Mercer, was in his mid-twenties, tall, athletic, broad-shouldered with a trim waist. He had brown hair, dark brown eyes laced with gold, a charming smile, and sun-kissed tan skin from time spent outdoors. With his handsome, expressive face and kind eyes, he exuded patience and a laid-back watchfulness that centered on his young mate. He stepped out of the driver’s seat and nodded in greeting to Angel, a bit reserved as usual. Angel knew it had more to do with his reputation than Jameson’s personal feelings—Angel tended to attract monsters, enforcers, and problems. Jameson’s wariness was warranted.

Rael came around the rear of the car, a bounce in his step, face lit up in wide-eyed curiosity. The exuberance of youth and all that—Rael made Angel feel old, even though he was only thirty and looked a handful of years younger thanks to the mate bond with Simeon. Rael was a beautiful young man, with thick brown hair swept back from his face, fair skin, a sharp smile that hinted at fangs, and bright blue eyes he inherited from his mother. Eyes that glowed a brilliant neon blue when the wilder side of his nature rose. Or he called his magic. It was something human practitioners couldn’t do—practitioner magics tended to show as little sparks of energy in a halo around a practitioner when they were using their gifts.

“Hi, Angel! How’s things—holy fuck, Eroch! When did this happen?” Rael stopped mid-step, jaw dropped, staring at Eroch in shock. The dragon winked daffodil-yellow eyes and preened at the attention. Such a flirt.

“Growth spurt since you saw him last,” Angel explained with a wry smile. “Any trouble getting here?”

Jameson eyed Eroch warily, but made no comment about the dragon having grown three times his previous size since they saw him last. “No problems. Traffic was light heading south out of town.” He paused, and eyed Angel sharply before continuing. “There’s a black town car with two practitioners sitting behind some bushes next to the entrance you had us take to get in here. They’ve been there long enough for their scents to escape the car. Tinted windows, but I could hear their heartbeats.”

Angel took that bit of news with a short nod, and watched as Rael went to his knees in front of Eroch and began petting the dragon on the head and neck, Eroch leaning into the attention with eyes shut and his whole body weight behind him.

Angel took a step closer to Jameson and spoke a bit louder over the cooing from Rael. Eroch was in heaven, so he let them have a moment to enjoy themselves. “High Council enforcers most likely. Outside the wards, probably to keep an eye on us and any visitors. If you and Rael weren’t on their radar before, you are now. I’m sorry.”

Jameson grimaced briefly, looking down at his mate before answering. “Rael needs training, and urgently. He wants it from the best. That means you. We’ll see how things work out, but it’s his call.”

“Yes, it’s my call, thank you,” Rael declared primly, getting to his feet and wiping dust off his knees. “I’m not afraid of the Council. And Mom says hi.”

Angel held back a grimace—not in distaste—Rael’s mother was formidable and made Angel a bit nervous. “Tell her I said hi back.”

Scylla Morrow was a werewolf, around two hundred-years-old, a nurse by day, and a kick-ass mother to her only child. Rael’s father was deceased—Angel theorized that he was a member of the West Coast Redmaynes—a practitioner clan famous for being wealthy, elitist assholes, and from what little Rael knew, his father had been something of a black sheep. Callum Redmayne died before Rael was born—and Scylla raised Rael alone, unaware that her son was going to develop magical abilities instead of the typically dominant werewolf traits like the majority of hybrids. It was a rare enough phenomenon that Scylla and Rael had no idea it was even possible. Rael, once thinking he was a poor excuse for a hybrid, instead gained sorcerer-level abilities and an affinity for earth magics.

Scylla and Rael merely assumed that Rael inherited more from his human father and that was why his werewolf nature was recessive, leaving him without the ability to transform. A werewolf hybrid without the wolf, he’d been largely ostracized by his old pack, and harassed by the pack alpha and a few others, who even attempted to kill Rael for perceived wrongs.

The Southside pack dissolved, breaking apart into factions, with the mating of Jameson and Rael as the catalyst. And Rael and Jameson found a new, more progressive pack in Cambridge closer to Harvard where Rael was enrolled as a freshman. Trouble was, Rael would be banned from campus unless his new abilities were under control and he had the basics down. The semester started in just under a month. And his magic was either out of his reach, or exploding with lethal force whenever he was in danger. Not a good idea to be surrounded by fellow young adults in one of the most stressful environments a person could willingly place themselves in—college was hell.

Or so Angel heard. He never went. In fact, neither did Isaac or Daniel. Their lives had fallen apart around them in different ways, and a relatively common experience like attending college had never even crossed their minds in any serious way. Rael going to college was something Angel never experienced, and the novelty of experiencing it even tangentially via Rael was interesting.

“Come inside, we need to talk.” Angel gestured for Rael and Jameson to head up the steps to the open doors, and they passed him with thanks and careful steps, minding Eroch’s longer limbs. Angel stared out across the front yard and the field in front of the Mansion, eyeing the near-invisible border of the wards that kept the estate safe. He felt it now—it might be his imagination, but the weight of an unfriendly gaze was heavy.

Angel smirked, and lifted his right hand, middle finger flying proudly in the direction he figured the sensation was coming from. He held it a long moment and then turned away and followed his guests into the Mansion, giving the silent observers his back without qualm. Fuck them all.

Angel showed Rael and Jameson into the study opposite the library across the foyer. It was relatively unchanged since his grandfather’s passing in the Massacre, and it was unscathed. Aside from some dust on the mantel and the windowsills, it was still habitable and looked as if his grandfather had merely stepped out for some tea and would return any minute.

Angel avoided the wide desk and its scattered proof of a life interrupted, and sat in an armchair near the windows, the mated pair taking the small couch across a coffee table. “Want anything? Coffee, snack, soda?”

It was still early in the afternoon, so they might not be hungry. Jameson and Rael shared a quick look and a brief shake of their heads in the negative before Rael answered. “We stopped for sandwiches on the way down. We’re good.”

“Good,” Angel ran out of words and eyed his student for a long moment before deciding to hell with it and just diving in. “I want to make you an official apprentice. You need to control your powers so you don’t kill someone or blow up something that can’t be replaced. The bond will prevent the bigger explosions of your gifts.”

“An apprentice?” Rael repeated, eyes wide in disbelief. “But that’s…so old school. An apprenticeship bond is mind-to-mind, and…well… Like, intimate?” His cheeks flushed a bit at the word.

Jameson was staring at Angel the way a predator would its prey, and Angel bit back a smile at the protective nature of the alpha werewolf. It was charming—Jameson was no threat to him.

“It can be an intimate thing, as the bond can give me access to your thoughts, memories, your mind. It has to—how else can a mentor control the wayward magics of their apprentice? Historically, it was used in previous centuries on younger practitioners, those lacking the mental maturity and skills to harness their magics, the purpose to prevent misuse and accidents. In modern times it’s used for much the same, though more commonly in the juvenile detention system and the medical fields for various purposes.”

A knowing expression filtered across Rael’s face. “Daniel Macavoy, you made him your apprentice instead of jail time for the whole vampire killing people to make newborn vampires thing a while back.”

“There was a lot more to the situation than that, but yes, I took him as my apprentice at the time to keep him out of jail, and to give him a proper magical education. I had the bond with him and only used it a couple of times. He had no real higher education in how to use his magic, but he did have basic control. You lack both control and an education. I’d likely use the bond with you more than I ever did with Daniel.”

Angel paused, then smiled a bit. “And Daniel is a Salvatore now. And no longer an apprentice. I’m free to take on a new apprentice, if you’re willing.”

“What would it entail? I live with Jameson now—and school starts in a month. I can’t move in with you.” Rael wasn’t saying no, which gave Angel some encouragement.

Angel shook his head once. “With the bond in place, I won’t even need to be next to you to prevent your magic from exploding. I could do it from the other side of the planet. And I’ll be in Beacon Hill, so right across the river from you. Far closer than coming here for training.”

“Why don’t you live here?” Jameson asked. He waved a hand a bit at the stately study and the grand furnishings. The wealth was obvious. “This place is huge.”

“You know what happened here eleven years ago?” Angel assumed Jameson knew—he grew up in Boston, and was old enough even to recall the Blood Wars in some fashion, even if he’d been a kid. The Massacre made headlines for several months, and there were television specials and books written about the events, keeping them present in the mainstream consciousness of the Greater Boston area for years.

Rael winced, and gently elbowed Jameson in the side. “Don’t be mean. I wouldn’t wanna live here either.”

“I’m sorry, that was rude.” Jameson was sincere, regret coloring his words.

Angel waved it away. “It’s alright. Suffice it to say this place is no longer home, and I prefer to live in Beacon Hill. I enjoy city living very much. And that’s good for Rael, in the long-run. Aside from today’s journey down here—and thank you both for making the drive, I know it’s a trek from Cambridge—I don’t foresee any reason for Rael to need to come to the Mansion for lessons.”

“It’s a nice drive,” Rael said. He was open in his admiration for the building so far. Angel may not call the Mansion home anymore, but he was still proud of what his family built. He was so used to the opulence and grand surroundings that he forgot the Salvatore Mansion was a prime example of the heyday of wealthy practitioner clans in Colonial New England.

“You can take your time thinking about it, but an answer might be best in the next day or so, honestly. I don’t want something to happen that you can’t take back. And if being bound to me as your mentor—I abhor the old fashioned master title—isn’t something you want to do, then I can recommend some other sorcerers who might be willing to take on an apprentice. My partner, for one. Dame Fontaine is an exceptional teacher, and has taught students at every level of education.”

Angel paused, then continued. “You need the apprenticeship bond right now to control your magic, at least until you gain a firm grasp of the fundamentals. If not with me, then with another sorcerer.”

Rael leaned back in his seat, nodding slowly as Angel spoke. He glanced at Jameson and they shared a wordless look that still managed to speak volumes. Jameson clearly had an opinion but he was leaving the choice to Rael. It was refreshing and eye-opening to see an alpha werewolf defer so much to a younger and less dominant wolf—even if Rael was more practitioner than werewolf. Jameson was giving Angel a crash course on dismantling werewolf stereotypes and he appreciated it. Angel had little in the way of experience in dealing with werewolves aside from in passing—they tended to be an insular people, much like practitioners and the various fae species.

“Your partner, Dame Fontaine. She’s going to be fighting if the Council brings war to Boston.” Jameson made that a statement, Milly’s participation a given. She had her own reputation in Boston, and part of it was her unwavering devotion to the Salvatore scions. She practically helped finish raising Angel and Isaac after their family’s death.

“Most likely.” Angel saw no point in lying. “I can try to find you another tutor, one that isn’t in the Council’s crosshairs. It’ll take some time, though, since most tutors at the sorcerer level only take on one or two students at a time, and many of them have a waitlist. And finding one that can handle teaching the basics is going to take even more time. Most tutors at our level aren’t trained in early magics education, and only have experience teaching students who have already graduated from the academies, and have a solid foundation in how to use their magic.”

“I don’t even have that,” Rael admitted ruefully. Jameson watched his mate carefully, concerned. Rael shrugged and met Angel’s stare with a level gaze. “I need the training. I can’t wait. And I refuse to let the Council keep me from living my life the way I want. I want the best. And that’s you.” Rael paused. “Still pro bono?”

Angel grinned, relieved and amused. “Still pro bono. You won’t owe me a single cent. And any training from Dame Fontaine as my partner is also covered. All I ask is an honest effort and a continuing commitment to learning. Try your best and I’ll do the same.”

Rael nodded, and stood. Angel matched him and tried not to smile at the young man who towered over him by half a head at least. Angel was only five foot seven, and Rael had to be a solid six feet. Rael squared his shoulders. “What do I need to do?”

Angel activated his inner vision, and squinted a bit at his new apprentice, eyeing the young man’s aura, and the thin, natural mental shielding that struggled to maintain cohesion around his vulnerable magical center and mind. All living beings had those shields—even mundane humans. A natural part of evolution in a world with magic—both innate and acquirable—the thin shields everyone had from birth to death were also part of their aura, the energies a living person exuded that were translated and interpreted differently in dozens of cultures, faiths, and disciplines across the world. To those gifted with active magics, those thin shields could be rebuilt into impenetrable walls, or dropped completely, allowing others inside their minds and souls.

As someone who had been raised as a mundane human—enhanced senses aside—Rael had little to no awareness of his mental shields or aura, and teaching him to recognize them, and then control them, was going to be the first lesson.

But not right now.

At the moment, Rael was a ticking bomb. Any perceived threat, real or not, could result in his magic instinctively defending him. Startled on the subway or bumped into at the grocery store, and Angel did not want to contemplate what might happen. Rael was powerful enough that he stopped a truck going too fast down a city street, warping the engine around his shields before it struck him, and the most recent incident was an explosion that killed a full-grown werewolf attempting to murder him.

Both times his magic saved his life, and the only person who got hurt was someone trying to commit murder. But Angel did not want Rael accidentally hurting or killing an innocent, or himself. He did not want that burden for Rael. Death, whether in the middle of war or an accident, was a heavy burden on a person’s heart and soul.

Angel knew that burden. He would spare Rael if he could.

“If you’re willing, I’ll set the apprenticeship bond now. You’ll feel it happen, but it won’t hurt. It will feel weird, especially as you’ve not used your magic in an active way before. Most practitioner parents have a similar bond with their children if talents and affinities come on too early, placed in the mind of the child to prevent accidents. All that is to say an apprentice normally will already have some exposure to a mental bond, and the apprenticeship bond won’t be so foreign. You may or may not feel it, and if you do, work on not freaking out. I can get the bond in place pretty fast, but I don’t want this to be unpleasant for you.”

Rael frowned a bit, but shrugged one shoulder. “My instincts tell me to trust you. Just tell me what to do.”

“Control your emotions so you don’t blow up my ancestral home, and I’ll be quick. Relax and think about lowering your defenses. Like opening a door to invite me inside your apartment. Focus on that kind of thought, that feeling. Invite me in.”

Angel did not need that—he had the training and skill to bypass Rael’s meager defenses and lay the bond in seconds, but he wanted Rael to have a good experience—to be an active participant in his own future, and taking control from Rael in more ways than one was not how Angel wanted this relationship to proceed.

“Invite you in,” Rael said quietly, almost to himself. He breathed in deep and shut his eyes, repeating the words to himself in a low mantra. It was cute and earnest, not that Angel would say that out loud. No nineteen-year-old young man wanted to hear that.

Inner vision tracking Rael’s progress, Angel was pleased and heartened to see that Rael’s natural shields thinned to such a degree that Angel was able to slip inside the boy’s mind. Rael jerked a bit at the sensation, but admirably controlled himself, doing nothing more than breathing a bit faster. Jameson held himself back, watching his mate with sharp eyes, but thankfully controlled any urge he had to touch.

Angel constructed the bond, identical in function to the one he once shared with Daniel, though this one was stronger, needing to be thus to prevent Rael from magically exploding and killing someone. The downside would be that Rael could no longer defend himself magically with those same explosions of power. Not all of his magic was going to be controlled—Angel would need Rael to have enough access to go through training, but until Angel could arrange in-depth training sessions, this would have to do.

Angel withdrew from the young man’s mind, pleased to see that Rael was maintaining the mantra to let Angel in. “The bond is set.”

Rael stopped the mantra and blinked open his eyes, attention turned inward. “Huh.”

“Are you okay?” Jameson asked, finally reaching out and touching Rael’s arm.

“I’m fine,” Rael assured his mate. “I feel the bond, but it’s not unpleasant. Feels like how a new piece of jewelry does—not bothersome, but new. I’m just extra aware of it right now.”

“You’ll be aware of it for a while, but things will settle after a few days. Your magic is locked down, so no more explosions. Avoid getting into dangerous situations until we get you in-depth training. I’ll talk to Milly about it and we’ll work something out soon.”

Rael blew out a deep breath, relief pouring off him in waves. “Thank you so much. I’ve been worried about blowing up my mom or Jameson. Things have been a bit tense.”

“I bet,” Angel said with a soft smile. “I promise to help you learn control. I need to settle things with the Council and then I can devote all my attention to your training. Do you want an escort home to Cambridge? I can arrange for a clan limo if you want that instead. In case the Council tries something.”

“I don’t think they’ll give us too much attention,” Rael said with a shrug. “We’re just a couple of wolves.”

Jameson didn’t look so sanguine about it but he didn’t gainsay his mate.

“If you’re sure,” Angel said.

“We’ll be alright.”