28. Chapter 27

Chapter 27

I was dressed in all my finery: a huge red ball gown, red elbow-length gloves and a full face of makeup. I was ready to go into battle, even if it wasn't the type of fight Esme understood. I slipped on my heels and admired the effect. With my blonde hair piled high except for a few loose tendrils, I felt like an actual Queen. All I was missing was the damned crown.

It is not good camouflage, Esme huffed. You make us stand out with that red dress and those red lips.

That's kind of the point. Let us lean into our beauty. Let them gaze at our long eyelashes and red lips, and while they are gazing at us in admiration they won't see your claws.

Ah, Esme said happily as she understood. It is not camouflage, it is a trap.

Exactly.

We're hunting in a dress.

We're hunting in a dress, I agreed .

Her tail started to wag. She did so love a hunt.

Greg wrapped his arms around me. ‘You look beautiful, Peaches.' He kissed the spot on my neck that made me croon and I relaxed into his arms. He was dressed in a black suit, but I'd already seen the wealth of weapons he was carrying. He'd also peppered a few on me.

He'd given me some lessons in hand-to-hand combat, though I was definitely not proficient. But how hard could it be to stab someone? The sharp pointy end went into your enemy's body, preferably into a nice soft part like the stomach. Aiming for the heart wasn't a good idea for an amateur because all those pesky ribs got in the way, but the stomach was easy to pierce and if you made enough of a hole your victim's insides would eventually come out.

And then we can eat them, Esme purred. I love entrails.

I grimaced. Try not to eat anyone's entrails tonight.

Only people that threaten us, she promised. That would have to do.

‘Ready?' Greg asked softly.

‘Yes.' I smiled, though Jess's internal lie detector would have pinged. I wasn't ready; I wanted to run away. I wanted to curl up with Greg while he gave me a PowerPoint presentation with pie charts and Venn diagrams on important life-shattering topics like climate change, economic injustice, and when it was appropriate to interrupt someone while they were reading.

My anxiety was so bad that the urge to grab a laptop and start a new spreadsheet almost consumed me. I was usually good in social situations – great, even – but it was a whole different kettle of fish when the other partygoers were plotting to kill you.

Not everyone wants to kill us, Esme reassured me. Probably only about fifty percent.

Wonderful, I said sarcastically. That makes me feel much better.

Good, she said happily. Let's go hunting.

My ex, James the succubus, had taught me a valuable lesson about the error of leaving powerful enemies alive. I needed to get my shit together, identify my enemies and convert as many of them as possible into allies. The ones that I couldn't convert, I'd hamstring or kill.

It's going to be a massacre. Esme was almost skipping with glee in my head.

Not until I say so, I reminded her. We have things to do first.

Politics?

Politics and attaining a crown, apparently.

She harrumphed but I felt her assent. She'd let me take the driver's seat – for now .

I relished the feeling of Greg's steady presence before pulling away to look up at him. ‘I'll have to dance with other men, you know that, right?'

He nodded. ‘I do.'

‘You can't kill them.'

‘Not now,' he agreed. ‘But maybe later. If any of them so much as lays an inappropriate finger on you, I'll definitely kill them later.'

I smiled. ‘You say the sweetest things.'

We'll kill them ourselves, Esme growled. Red doesn't get to have all the fun.

We have to let him have a little fun.

A little, she conceded grudgingly.

Greg gave me a kiss that made my head spin. ‘I believe in you, Lucy Barrett,' he murmured for my ears alone. ‘And I believe in you, Esme. You've got this.'

Of course we do, Esme snorted. We were born ready.

I looked at the others. ‘Everyone ready to rock and roll?'

‘Can't you tell?' Archie asked, brushing invisible lint from his shoulder. ‘We're all at our finest, just for our Queen.' Greg let out a low growl and he blanched.

‘Flirt at the ball, if you must,' Greg snarled. ‘But not here.'

‘Right you are.' Archie gave his beta a mock salute.

‘Time to go,' David said to defuse the rising tension. He was dressed in jeans and a T-shirt; Greg had asked him to stay in our rooms to make sure Amber's runes weren't interfered with.

‘Liam,' I called, ‘you escort me. Let's leave Greg's hands free to kill anyone at the drop of a hat.'

I hope there's a gust of wind, Esme said hopefully.

What?

You said that hats come off when the wind blows. If Greg gets to kill when hats fall, I want it to be really windy. Maybe we can open a window.

I smacked a hand on my forehead. I despaired of ever teaching my wolf the niceties of human society. I held out my arm to Liam, and he took it gallantly, careful to touch only my gloved flesh; he didn't want Greg out for his blood. Wise man.

There was a knock on the door. When I nodded, Archie opened it to reveal Andrew Kearns, the speaker of the Werewolf Council. ‘My Queen,' his eyes sparkled with admiration. ‘The room is ready to receive you.'

‘And the plan this evening?'

He blinked then frowned. ‘Aitken has not explained this evening's events?'

‘Evidently not,' I drawled. ‘I gather there is to be a ball.'

‘Of course. You will be presented to those who have gathered then the ball will commence. You will have three dances before you travel alone to the seat of power. If you return, your coronation will follow.'

‘ If she returns?' Greg growled darkly.

Kearns grimaced. ‘The seat of power must successfully commune with the Queen.'

‘And what will an unsuccessful communion lead to?'

Kearns looked at his toes for a moment before answering. ‘Over the centuries, there have been many wolves that have sought to rule. None have ever returned from the seat of power.' He looked at me optimistically. ‘But I'm sure it will be different for you, my Queen. You restored the Great Pack, and my wolf Kai tells me that they recognise your rule. Your encounter with the seat of power is bound to be a technicality, nothing more.'

‘Of course,' I said with a confidence I didn't feel.

I had an inkling about what the seat of power was and I'd seen it kill. It was out for blood – would mine be next?