Make Me Burn: Fireborne, Book 2 (32 page)

She slipped her arm through Greg’s as they started up the candlelit walk toward the ridiculously intimidating “home” of Brandon’s father. The Alpha. She hadn’t known the party was being held in a minicastle. All that was missing was the moat.

“Oh yes. This should be fun.”

“Do you think he invited the Queen?” Greg whispered as they neared the flag-lined entrance. “If a marching band playing ‘God Save the Queen’ appears at the door, I’m going to be in vulgar American heaven. I’ve always wanted to meet her.”

“I don’t think the werewolves would invite the queen to my party. This time. I heard they were too worried I’d accidentally set her hat on fire.”

“Really?”

She smirked. “Not really. God, you’re not this gullible.”

As they stepped over the threshold, they nearly walked into the wall that was Brandon’s broad-shouldered uncle.

“There she is. The guest of honor.” Devil smiled kindly and took her hand, bending to kiss it, while lowering his voice. “My brother has managed to keep Natalie quiet. I don’t think he wanted his lieutenants to see the Vessel taken away in chains. Be careful, Aziza.”

Penn came up behind them, Hillary at her side, and grinned at him. “Look at you, Devil. You should dress more often, you clean up well.”

“I think you’re right.” Devil winked. “The Russian Alpha’s daughter is eyeing me like a Christmas roast.”

Rolling her eyes subtly, Hillary said, “Be careful, cousin—that she-wolf has been taking her training in diplomatic relations too far, from what I’ve heard.”

Aziza bit her lip to keep from laughing. “I thought you two were supposed to help me make a good impression.”

“You don’t need any help, Aziza.” Brandon’s voice made Devil turn and move out of the way, giving her the first view she’d had of him since Underbridge.

Aziza watched Brandon move toward her slowly, taking in his larger-than-life frame encased in a crisp tuxedo, his hair tamed and beard newly trimmed. His gaze was enigmatic, but she could feel the heat coming off of him. God, what he did to her.

It only took her a moment to notice the swiftly healing slash down his left cheek. “What happened?” Had she ever seen Brandon injured? It made her stomach hurt. “How did you get that?”

He took her hand and pulled her toward him, oblivious to everyone else. “We should talk.”

They did need to talk. About what they’d done in the bathroom at Underbridge last night. What he’d confessed to knowing about. How, despite the pressure from Natalie and his own instincts, he’d let them take Ram.

“I don’t think there’s time,” Penn murmured from behind her. “We made it past the door. Now we only have five more hours to worry about.”

Aziza’s eyes widened. “Five hours?” she hissed. No one had told her this would go on for five hours. “Help.”

Brandon bent down to murmur in her ear, “Aziza, he’ll expect me to escort you in.”

The Alpha will expect it.
Did that mean it was the last thing he wanted to do?

She took his arm. “Let’s do this then. Once it’s over you can tell me about that cut.”

The musicians were still playing softly in the background, but all the voices stopped and every head turned as soon as she entered the room. Nostrils flared and eyes widened.

Gotta love a werewolf party,
she thought to herself with a sigh.
At least I put on clean underwear.

Brandon escorted her through the room with her hand resting on his outstretched arm as if she were a debutante. Royalty. She even had the entourage behind her. Devil and Hillary. Greg and Penn. She’d never been so uncomfortable in her life.

And the cherry on the top of her happiness cake?
The
Alpha was standing expectantly at the end of the long room. Oh joy.

She needed to find Blade’s killer, not go to prom.
This will help,
she told herself firmly. This would allow her to find out where they were getting their intelligence and how they arrived on the murder scenes so quickly. This would stop the Alpha from punishing anyone who helped her.

“My honor.” The Alpha placed his arm along his waist and bowed formally. When he straightened, he raised his voice for the gathering to hear. “
Our
honor, to welcome the Vessel of Fire into our midst.”

The crowd clapped until he raised his hands. “She is the embodiment of all we have stood for over the centuries. A balm to our old souls, reminding us to be unwavering in our quest for justice.”

Aziza glanced up at Brandon, wondering again how they could share the same DNA. The elder Nash was milking the crowd with a bit more enthusiasm than she’d been expecting.

“Think of it. Now, in this time, with all of us to witness it, she appears from legends of smoke and fire to lead us all to victory.” The Alpha placed his hands behind his back and lowered his head. “But we know what this means, don’t we? What there can be no victory, no winning of the day, without?”

The crowd murmured nervously, riveted on the Alpha.

“The Vessel comes to warn us of war,” he droned on. “To let us know there has been, or soon will be, a violation of the treaty. A violation by the very same unnatural abominations we have spilled our blood, and that of our children, to expel from our soil.” He let his words sink in with the perfect timing of a stage actor. “I’ve spent many sleepless nights with the archivist since my son saved the new Vessel from the evil laying in wait to take her from us. I have pored over ancient texts going back to a time we have all but forgotten. A time when we weren’t bound to serve out our tours as Enforcers. When there were no laws but instinct and primitive passions.”

He pointed to Aziza and lifted his voice again. “The Vessel made us who we are. Shaped us into her army. Gave us purpose. Guided us to make our pacts with the royal families of humanity, those pacts we still hold to this day, giving us the ability to protect our homes.
She
did all of this. Created the foundations of our thriving society so that we may aid her as she cleanses the Shiners and demons alike with fire and judgment.”

His gaze turned beseeching and Aziza desperately wanted to take off her shoe and throw it at his head. She understood why Brandon’s arm had become so tense it felt like it was made of stone.

His father was a tool. Mocking her. Mocking them all. Stirring them up. Couldn’t they see it?

“How do we thank her? How can we express our gratitude for her return and the renewed vigor she will bestow upon us with her powers? Guests, fellow family leaders…we must put aside our own pride, our own selfish need for status and wealth. We must know her. Humble ourselves before her. We must all willingly leave our lives behind and become Enforcers again, young and old alike. For, according to our own records, her return signals nothing less than that. According to our history, the Vessel is the true Alpha. The last Alpha.”

Aziza watched in horror as the people around the room began to kneel, cocktail dresses, tuxedos and all. No. This was
not
happening. The man who’d forbidden any werewolves to talk to her or work with her, the man who’d been responsible for Brandon’s absences and treated her like she was a brainless twit, had not just gotten this crowd to fall on their knees like she was their new Messiah.

She remembered what Shev had said about his loyalties. What kind of game was this man playing now? What was it he wanted from her? Did he actually think this was what she wanted? To get a badge that said
Honorary Alpha
and lead them off to victory? From what she’d always understood, war was what her line had been created to avoid. She was meant to ensure it never happened again—she wasn’t meant to bring it about.

She looked up at Brandon, but he was no help. His attention was focused like a laser on his father who, when he made sure all his other guests were on their knees…fell to his.

Now
that
was a son of a bitch.

Aziza looked around at all the faces watching her with everything from wolfy adoration to skepticism to barely veiled contempt and wished desperately for a drink. There were so many ways she could go here, all of them no doubt disastrously wrong. Too bad she couldn’t text the Queen and ask what she’d do in a situation like this.

For an instant she could see herself ending the Alpha’s game and simply walking away. Or incinerating him where he stood. But he had just returned all of them to active duty. And Enforcers en mass and in chaos would only make the Jiniyrs’ lives easier and complicate her relationship with Brandon even more.

She put the ball back in the Alpha’s court. “It is my honor to be here in the home of the Alpha,” she told him with a nod and a gracious smile.

When he got to his feet again, the others followed suit and began to murmur amongst themselves. The Alpha straightened his jacket and smiled charmingly as he walked toward her, his hands outstretched to cup hers.

“Aziza Stewart.” He bowed his head and gripped her hands tightly. “The rumors of your beauty did no justice to its reality. I understand why Brandon is so bewitched.”

“Thank you for the invitation.” She lowered her voice. “Did I do that correctly? Do you approve?”

He winked and moved closer, ignoring his son’s sound of protest. “I do now. I thought I’d scared you at our last meeting. I suppose I should have known better. Call me William, my dear.”

Devil stepped up behind Aziza and muttered, “Billy, what exactly were you—”

“Devlin, I did not give you permission to speak and you did not kneel before the Vessel.” William was still smiling, despite his disturbing tone. “This is not the night to test me with your disrespect.”

Devil stepped back reluctantly. Obediently.

She didn’t want to throw her shoe at his brother’s head—she wanted to stab him in the throat with her pointy heel. “Devil doesn’t have to kneel to me, Alpha. Never. He is one of the most honorable men I’ve met in my life. He, Brandon and Hillary saved me from the Jiniyr.”

He hadn’t released her hand, but she could see how her words affected him. He did
not
like his brother.

Usurper.

“Devil will obey his Alpha in all things,” he informed her. “Word of advice, you should be particularly pleasant to the Egyptian Alpha tonight. Do you know his full title is Ruler Where the Vessel Dwells? He’ll have to change all his stationery.”

William Nash smirked and Aziza knew he enjoyed showing up the other Alpha. He’d obviously like nothing better than to rub the other guy’s face in the fact that she was here in England.

Looking up at him with an innocent enthusiasm that was entirely feigned, she said, “I’d love to meet him. My father was Egyptian. In fact, I believe I am the first generation of his line to be raised in America. May I ask, is there an American Alpha here tonight?”

William’s lips tightened. “She’s here.”

“She?” That was promising. The testosterone in the room was overwhelming.

“The families in America have always been scattered at best. Independent to a fault and uncivilized, with no royal ties to speak of beyond their Native legends.” William looked down his nose in a way that made her long to punch it. “In the last fifty years they’ve begun to organize themselves into a true family under an Alpha. I’m sure she’ll find you before the evening ends.”

“And your guest from Jordan? The one you said would be here?”

Brandon’s grip on her arm tightened again and she glanced up to see his eyes narrowed on his father.

The Alpha nodded to a passing couple, a beaming “vote for me” smile on his lips. “Oh, Ahmed. Yes, shame really. He was detained.”

“Detained?” Brandon spoke before she could.

The Alpha’s smile altered subtly. “These things happen, Brandon. Perhaps if you’d informed me of my old friend’s arrival, I could have made arrangements. But each day that we live, we learn from our mistakes.”

Oh, the evil little bastard. She tried to find a ladylike way of removing her hand from his, but she was at a loss. Why was he still holding it? Was there a custom she wasn’t aware of? “William, if you’ll excuse me, it was a long drive and I need to powder my nose.”

“Of course. Just past the kitchens.” Reluctantly, he let her go. “Brandon, you will stay. There are matters I must discuss with you.”

Shrugging out of Brandon’s hold, she did an awkward curtsy and spun on her heel, grabbing Greg’s jacket as she passed.

“Whoa. Okay, I can powder my nose too.”

She saw several waiters carrying trays laden with full champagne glasses. “Grab one, Greg.”

“What? A glass?”

“A tray.”

Greg didn’t hesitate. “On it.”

After they passed the bustling kitchen, she pushed Greg ahead of her into the every-woman’s-fantasy powder room. Only when she’d closed and locked the door did she take a breath. “Everybody is thinking it, but I’m going to say it again. That is
not
Brandon’s father.”

Greg set the tray down and handed her a glass. “That’s only true if this is a fairy tale…or a soap opera.”

She tilted her head back, chugging until the glass was empty, and then held out her hand for another. “I’m serious. How can he be? He’s so…so…” She took another drink.

“Pompous?” Greg offered helpfully. “Arrogant? Overdramatic? A stereotypical dickhead, not unlike our stereotypical evil villain Razia?”