Page 15 of War Games (Jacky Leon #11)

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CHAPTER FOURTEEN

HASAN

H asan wished he knew why Zuri ran into the house looking like she was going to scream, but he didn’t have a chance to ask her. He wished he knew why she had scooped up Subira, and they disappeared into his mate’s office. He wished his hearing was good enough to bypass the magic Subira had used to keep both of their offices private. He wished, for a small second, that Zuri wasn’t his daughter, so he could find some excuse to steal his mate back, but he couldn’t steal a mother from a daughter or vice versa. That would get him hurt. And in trouble.

So, Hasan went to his own office and pondered over things from his own meetings during the past weekend. He tried not to think about what his children weren’t telling him or how they weren’t including him.

I deserve it. First for thinking of them as just children. They’re all grown adults.

It made him sad to know they were all adults. He liked when they had been babies and children. They were cuddlier when they were little. Now, they all could form full sentences, which led to arguments, and they had sharp claws and teeth to back up those arguments. He liked being a father, though. He’d enjoyed watching them grow up. For a long time, he had no problem with the end of the journey, seeing them branch out and have their own lives. With his eldest two, he’d been grateful to finally push them out of the den, but they had stayed with him and Subira for far longer than the others after them would.

It must be an age thing. Or perhaps a phase I haven’t encountered before. Maybe it will fade.

He tried not to think about how it was his fault that Zuri went straight for Subira and not to him with whatever exciting news she had come to share.

It is. It’s entirely my fault.

He shuffled through the papers on his desk, read his emails, and made sure he got the daily update from Mischa and Hisao, so he could promise for another day that they were both okay. He was in trouble with the Tribunal for saying as much as he had in the family meeting, but none of them were punishing him for it. He gave enough to ease the minds of his family without them all jumping into action and joining Mischa and Hisao in a quarantine that none of them could do anything about. The immortal and nephilim had to resolve that, and the rest of the supernatural world had to trust that they could. He knew his middle children would come out of it okay. That was the most important part to him.

He stopped on his notes from the most recent meeting he’d had with Callahan and Corissa, sighing heavily, knowing he had to say something, eventually. He didn’t know how to properly go about it, though. It was a dangerous line of discussion for him to have, even with his recent help from Subira. He couldn’t see a therapist like a human fighting with grief and guilt could. His beautiful mate had done what she could for him, but even with that help, he couldn’t approach this problem like he once would have tried.

He put it to the side, shaking his head as he found himself lost for a solution.

An hour later, Subira came into his office.

“Hasan,” she said, purring as she came close. Her lips were curled into a smile, one that warmed his heart better than any fire.

“Subira,” he replied, leaning back his chair, joyous to finally see her, all his pondering and pain forgotten just at the sight of her. “What has Zuri told you today that has you smiling like that?”

Subira sat on the edge of his desk, just out of his reach. He was greedy for her attention and touch whenever they were close to each other. Her choice of distance was a taunt to make him listen, and if he behaved, she would finish closing the distance.

“Our grandson is getting married,” she answered, the pure joy on her face such a magical thing.

He felt a wave of confusion, knowing his mate could smell everything.

“Makalo? He’s not even a grown man.”

With a small movement from one of her eyebrows, that confusion was crushed by something far more painful.

Shame.

“Dirk is getting married,” he said softly, nodding. He closed his eyes, sitting with that news and the shame he felt for not immediately understanding her.

My oldest living grandchild. Yes. Of course, he’s getting married. He’s mated to Landon Everson. They’re both young enough to want the official act of binding themselves together under the eyes of government and gods.

She wrapped her arms around his neck, putting her hands together on his chest, holding him from behind, but her touch wasn’t able to banish his thoughts or feelings this time. It was normally a balm, always soothing, but he wanted his shame to eat him alive, so he was going to let it.

“Breathe,” she whispered in his ear.

“I feel?—”

“I know what you’re feeling. You didn’t forget him. You were thinking of a different grandson. There are three. One is clearly not getting married any time soon, but Makalo wasn’t a bad guess. He’s young for it, but it’s been done.” She kissed his cheek. “Plus, I hear Makalo is good at charming young women, being the artist he is. It won’t be long before one tries proposing to him. Just you wait.”

Hasan couldn’t help but chuckle.

“Love, you can’t let that happen. Tell Jabari that he can’t let that happen,” Hasan said, knowing that women all through time fell for the artistic ones.

“Jabari knows,” she said, laughing in his ear. “Aisha is the one doing the work, though.”

“I’m not surprised. She knows how to cut a man down.” He knew all too well. He hadn’t wanted to hear what she wanted to say the day he met her, but looking back, he knew he deserved every bit of it.

One day, the world is going to figure out who really runs it, and they won’t be ready for it. Women like Subira, Zuri, and Aisha.

May the gods have mercy on them.

“So, I’m not in trouble for not thinking it was Dirk as quickly as I should have?” he finally asked.

“Not at all. If you didn’t immediately hate yourself for it, I would have gone to tell Zuri and had a wonderful laugh about it with her and Aisha,” she said before nipping his ear. “But now that you aren’t angry at the world, you seem to keep finding ways to be angry with and hate yourself.”

“I don’t hate myself. I am… very aware of all of my mistakes right now.”

“And my mate’s ego can’t handle being too aware all the time like this,” she teased.

He couldn’t resist, smiling as he turned his head to see her perfect face. His powerful, loving, extraordinary mate who made him want to be better. Had always made him want to be better.

The guilt he felt from losing his way threatened to ruin the perfect moment with her.

“Your mate needed a reality check and a bruised ego for a little while,” he said, his words hoarse. He cleared his throat as he looked away. “Like everyone needs at some point in their life.”

“Agreed. Now, what have you been working on?”

“No more about this wedding?”

“Well, neither of us are invited. Dirk and Landon want a small wedding, and they will have one. We’re going to support from afar. Only Niko and Jacky will be going from our side of the family.”

“I see.” He could accept that. He also knew that even if Subira and everyone else were invited, he would not be. He had no right in that space. He would miss this important moment for his family, and it pained him, but he accepted he was just going to have to live with that pain.

I was awful to those boys. I was awful to Niko and Jacky.

“Distract yourself,” Subira whispered.

“You could?—”

“Tell me what you were pondering on when I walked in,” she ordered, cutting off whatever idea he had to distract himself. With her hanging on him, he had ideas, and those ideas were always a pleasant distraction he was willing to take.

Instead, he remembered the problem that had consumed his thoughts as he tried not to think of other things. One of the many things he was constantly thinking about. One of the many pieces he had to juggle to keep some semblance of peace in the world and protect them from their enemies, known and unknown. For a moment, he felt overwhelmed, for there were a thousand problems he could tell his mate about. There were problems with the vampires. There were problems between the fae, the nagas, and the cambions. The witches were in a state of disarray because of the growing hostility between the species, mostly how the werecats and werewolves were cutting ties with them around the world.

Which made him think of the problem he had to carefully dance around with Callahan and Corissa, a problem they were dealing with, but he had to be informed.

“Callahan and Corissa… we had the meeting, as I said we would…”

“Yes, I’ve been waiting on an update to that.”

“They are having a hard time getting some packs to fully support their efforts, even though the threat from witches we’re facing is so unprecedented. Some packs are disregarding their command about cutting the business ties or helping to find missing werewolves. They’ve gotten packs that have quietly told them that they don’t respect the authority of the Tribunal or the Alphas who stand as their representatives.”

“Why?”

“I’m not allowed to say,” he answered hoarsely, truly hating the reality of the situation.

Her eyes went wide for only a second in realization but quickly turned sad. She wasn’t going to be able to say anything, either. They could meddle in a lot, but they could not meddle in this. There was an important line he and Subira couldn’t cross. By informing him of the issue, they had put a chokehold on him. They invited him into their private discussions about an issue that had started over a year ago, further back if they really wanted to reach for it. He couldn’t act on it. It wasn’t a werecat problem. Whatever Callahan and Corissa did to resolve their problems would just have to be the way things went.

“What can you say?” she asked after some time.

“I was grateful to them for opening up to talk about it. They didn’t have to.”