Queen of Death

Happy belated Hanukah and Merry early Christmas. Wishing you a stress free holiday with those you hold dear.

❤️

— — — — —

Elias

It’s easy to be angry at Solana, easy to feel betrayed and hurt. But it’s near impossible to stay angry with her. Things would be so much easier if I could tell that her recent behavior is all an act, and find a way to explain why I’m fighting with myself by the hour. But she’s never been more genuine than the last three days.

I’m almost inventing reasons to be mad at her at this point. It started obviously with her lying about being Nightshade. When I couldn’t hold on to that, then I was mad that Ace and Hunter are acting like sister wives with her. They sleep with her every night now, no hostility between them, like it’s the most normal thing in the world for two mates to welcome a lover into their bed.

Now I’m just mad at how there’s nothing rational to be mad at her about. That seems to have stuck.

It’s better this way. Whether she leaves us or gets killed, being mad at her will keep me at a safe enough distance from her that I won’t end up like Tate, who has succumbed like Ace and Hunter to her charms.

I can be cordial and do my job without needing to get attached. Rules to live by: never go all in on anything. Always have one foot in the door of the emergency exit. Even as much as I love the guys, if I needed to leave the pack I would.

That’s life, right? You win some, you lose some. Living in the middle, in the flux, half in and half out, life seems to find a balance. I’d rather be content with neutral than risk going all in on happiness only to land on rock bottom again.

Today there’s no avoiding her. She’s decided to swim endless laps in the average size pool here at the house. Before that she had been doing an entire circuit of exercises — push ups, sit ups, lunges, box jumps. All of these in her distressingly small bikini.

Her breasts must be breaking the weight limit of the strings attached to the triangles of fabric barely covering her. I’m surprised nothing has given way and snapped off like a cable on a tension bridge.

Her bikini bottoms are no better. The fabric slips off her ass, bunching in the center when she would squat down and raise back up. She wouldn’t fix it until her set was done which allowed me to sit here and be mad at her for being so painfully beautiful and irritatingly indifferent about the effect she has on everyone she meets.

“Enjoying the view?” Dean’s smirk is all too knowing.

“Just another day in paradise,” I say sardonically.

He huffs out a short laugh. “What are you pretending to be mad at her for today?”

“I’m not pretending,” I mutter defensively. “She’s been lying about a pretty fundamental part of herself with sociopathic ease. Who knows, this could all be an elaborate ruse. How long before she flips the script on us again?”

He cocks a brow at me, “on us? Or on you?”

“Just because you all have decided to look past her lies doesn’t mean I’m pretending.”

He levels me with an unconvinced look. “Eli, you may be upset and frustrated and justifiably confused, but you’re not mad. Not at her at least.”

Fucking Dean. It’s like living with a human lie detector — well, not entirely human. Death may not have any secrets but between his gift and Ace’s alpha genes, Death has no privacy either.

Dean grabs a towel and stands at the edge of the pool waiting for her to turn and swim back towards him. She must see him, or sense him, because instead of flipping around and continuing to swim laps, she comes up for air and rests her arms on the deck of the pool. Dean squats down to speak to her, “why don’t we get you out of the pool. Tate is on his way back and Ace wants a pack meeting immediately.”

She dips down, scoops up a mouthful of water and spits it at him playfully. “I haven’t finished my laps,” she argues.

Without looking at me, Dean calls out over his shoulder, “Eli how many laps has she done?”

312. “Haven’t the faintest idea,” I feign indifference.

“Mm, I’m sure,” he muses under his breath. “Come on out, Sunshine. We’ll have lunch, have our pack meeting, and then you and I can do a few laps in the bathtub. Sound good?” He smiles lasciviously at her.

Solana pulls herself up and out of the pool, accepting the towel Dean brought. “Interesting,” she hums.

“What’s that?” Dean asks with an amused smile.

“Nothing,” she shrugs with a coy smile. “Thanks for the towel.”

Dean watches her walk away back to the main house, lingering by my deck chair trying to look casual.

When she’s out of sight and he’s still stalling I release a sigh. “He’s dying to mark her, you know.”

Dean nods, “I think that’s been true since day one.”

Silence stretches between us like a rubber band until the tension is too much to stand. “Do you think he’ll actually do it?”

“Not without a pack vote first.” I can tell Dean believes his words.

I cast him a doubtful look, not that Ace has ever given me reason not to trust him, it’s just that matebonds don’t always abide by reason or pack votes.

— — —

Solana

Tate flew on to the property just as we had set the table for lunch. He sat down between Hunter and Ace, setting his bag down and opening his laptop immediately.

Tate isn’t like Hunter or even Ace, he prefers to show his affection either in the shadows or behind closed doors. So when he pulls me into his lap and drags his nose up the column of my neck I let him.

“Gods, I’ve missed you,” Tate whispers against my ear. We share a chaste kiss before I slide off his lap and into a chair opposite Ace at the other end of the table.

Ace’s eyes find mine and when they do the corners of his mouth twitch up in a smile. We’re all still navigating our new dynamic. Well, I guess it’s not new, just in the sense that since I’ve decided to stay they’ve been more open and affectionate.

Ace obviously knows my history with Hunter and my feelings for him, but he’s been just as gracious with me and Tate. Allowing us to figure out what we are to one another on our own time.

Some might think it’s because Ace doesn’t care about me or our bond, but I know different. He cares a lot. He cares about me and he cares about his pack and it benefits him when both of those entities are happy.

“What did you find at Lobo?” Ace breaks the silence.

“They’re definitely a lot more paranoid now. Security has doubled and they’ve changed the encryption software protecting their accounts.”

“That can’t be surprising to anyone,” Dean looks around the table. “Two of their own show up dead two months apart? Carter must be shitting bricks.”

“He’s definitely not taking any more risks. But even with the new security provisions it’s still not good enough to keep me out,” Tate gives us a cocksure smile. “From what I can tell, the previous accounts were paid into by three different investors. All of whom are linked to the Elder’s council.”

My brows pinch together as I try to make sense of what he’s saying. Why were the Elders paying Carter and Michael?

Ace rubs his thumb and forefinger among the stubble on his jaw. I can feel him trying to do the same math we all are. His hum comes out like a grunt, and he speaks aloud the question of the hour. “What business would the Council have with Lobo?”

Tate’s lips press into a grim line. He’s probably upset with himself that he couldn’t come home with an answer to that question and I’m sure he’ll take it as a personal failure. “I haven’t worked that out quite yet, but it may be related to another account that Lobo pays into.”

Tate does something I’ve never seen him do before – he hesitates. Tate can be quiet, he can be calculating, but he always speaks plainly. Whatever information he knows must be delicate if he’s debating about whether or not to breathe it into existence.

“Where’s the money going?” Ace all but demands.

Tate’s jaw ticks as he clenches his teeth together. “All the accounts, both old and new, pay into the same one. Only one. It’s listed under an organization, but I was able to dig through and find a name.”

The longer Tate stalls, the more irritated Ace becomes. His knuckles are turning white from the tight fist he’s clenched his hands into and smoke is starting to swirl from his nose. “What aren’t you saying, Tate?”

Ace looks expectantly at Tate and if I didn’t know any better I’d say Tate felt guilty.

“The money is being wired to a facility but the original account owner is listed as …Alec.”

Recognition and rage flash across Ace’s eyes.

“Alec who?” He asks like he doesn’t want to be right about who Tate is talking about.

“Your brother.”