26. Lucien

The door opens as I reach the second step behind Elle. A young wolf peers out at us, and the pinch to his expression tells me he does not know why two vampires have roused him.

"We're here to meet with Alpha Deacon," Elle offers. Her gaze turns sharp when the wolf looks at her, and she rakes her eyes over him obviously before she gestures at me. "Chieftain Lucien Camusat and Elle Martin."

He nods, looking flustered for a second. "Yes, of course. One moment."

The door shuts again, and Elle turns to me with a raised eyebrow. Yes, I am fairly certain he is not supposed to have done that either, but I am more amused than offended.

At least it is us on the doorstep and not Vasile.

When the door opens this time, the wolf is gone, Chaya standing in his place. Her smile is strained at the edges, and she waves to usher us inside.

"My deepest apologies, Chieftain. Arden is new…"

"No apology necessary," I reply, and from the way she huffs, she can see the true amusement in my smile. "I hope we are not late."

She shakes her head and strides ahead of us, leading us down the hall. "Not that he would notice if you were," she says.

"I imagine there is a lot on Alpha Deacon's plate at the best of times."

She shoots me a look at that, one that suggests Deacon's time is not always occupied with his position, and Elle turns her head to hide her smile. Chaya shrugs. Her honey-blond hair falls to her waist, and it ripples with the movement. I suppose her wolf is the same colour, though I am not certain, and I certainly would not ask.

We ascend one flight of stairs, passing several wolves as we go. Without exception, they eye us with curiosity, but I can sense no hostility.

I do not think I ever encountered a wolf before I came to London. I was born in France and ran to Paris as a young teen. Most of my second life was spent there, too. As far as I know, wolves tend to keep to their packs and to areas they can control.

London is an exception. I suppose Paris might be if I go back now. The world is changing at a pace I can hardly follow.

Chaya stops outside a large mahogany-coloured door. "Come in," Deacon says from inside, and she pushes it open, waving us ahead again.

As at the club, Deacon is wearing a crisp white shirt and suit trousers, though the shirt is unbuttoned at the neck and has been rolled up to reveal muscular forearms. He stands when we enter and rounds his desk, smiling and offering his hand.

"I'm glad you could both make it here on such short notice." His smile seems genuine when I shake his hand, crinkling his eyes at the corners. He looks to be in his early forties, and his power, though not as heavy as Vasile's, is more apparent here than it was the other night. It is a faint pressure, a reminder of just who we are in the room with.

Chaya closes the door and Deacon takes his seat again, offering us the other two. She stands by the door, although she is careful not to block the only exit. Her presence is not a surprise. Everyone in London knows Chaya is Deacon's most trusted beta and that the only reason she does not have a pack of her own is because she will not leave his side.

That kind of loyalty is what makes me believe he is a good man, his position and power aside.

"I trust your turn is doing well?" Deacon asks and I nod. "And your… human?"

I hesitate before I nod again. Deacon had seemed far too interested in Kieran the other night, though I cannot fathom why. Perhaps it is simply that he took Kieran to be in charge of the group.

"Tristan did attack Adam the other night," I say, and out of the corner of my eye, I see Elle turn to me, surprised. I am not about to reveal everything—although Naomi saw what Sam did, so I am certain Moreau and the Council know, too. "He is well, but Tristan had a spell on his fangs. His bites could be even more dangerous."

"The mage," Deacon says, nodding as he leans back in his chair. "Moreau and I spoke about her. We have little power to stop a powerful mage, but if we can capture her, Moreau believes she can be safely held."

It is good to know. "We also believe Tristan may be using the tube network to move around the city. At least, in the day."

"Oh?"

I outline what happened in Hyde Park, as well as what we found in the station near Kieran's home. Deacon watches me seriously and nods when I am finished.

"We have to hope he returns that way," he says, "but that is not a foolproof plan."

"No, not by a longshot," Elle replies. "The mage is making things difficult. They're not teleporting around all the time, but it's enough we can't be sure where Tristan will be next."

"You're right. That's why I'm hoping we can help you." Deacon leans forward again, exchanging a glance with Chaya. "I don't think he's in wolf territory, but he could well be. We've got a lot of land, and though our packs aren't small, there are enough areas that are only human where he could blend in. That goes doubly if he's using the tube."

I nod. Vampires and wolves tend to stay outside of each other's territory, but we can use public transport however we like. Any scent tracking there would be muddled, I imagine.

"So we hunt here?"

"I have wolves who are ready to join your teams in vampire territory, but yes, I would also like at least two teams here. Tristan has already killed hunters and vampires. We have children here. I do not want to lose a wolf."

My stomach twists. "Of course," I say. "We can ask for vampires who would be willing—"

"No, you misunderstand. There are families here, chieftain. While I have let all the alphas know exactly what I do, I have left it to them to make the decision about how much to disclose to the rest of their packs, and I know some will not want them to worry unnecessarily. I cannot have just any vampire moving through our territory. They need to be trusted."

I frown, but Elle speaks before I do. "Who do you have in mind?"

"You two."

I blink, stunned, even as my stomach drops. If I am here all night… I will have no time for Kieran.

But if we find Tristan…

"I'd be happy to," Elle says quickly, ducking her head.

Deacon looks at me expectantly. I cannot say no, even if I wish to. I am not certain I wish to, either. Deacon is right, and I need to prove the clan can still work with the wolves.

"Yes, of course," I reply.

"Good," he says. "Now, we have two teams in mind. We will have a hunter assigned to each, as well as at least one wolf who can sense magic."

"Is that not common?"

Deacon shakes his head. "We can scent mages, but once their spell is out there, it is undetectable to most of us. If a wolf has a magic user in their ancestry, then they tend to have the ability to sense it on its own. Children almost always. Grandchildren around half the time. After everything that happened, we have fewer and fewer wolves being born with the ability, but we have enough to suffice for this."

"And their scents?" Elle asks.

"That one is easier," Deacon says, this time with a smile. "Of course, highly trafficked areas are going to be an issue, but we hope we can help you track him down."

"This is not without risk," I point out.

Deacon meets my eyes, and his expression is now entirely serious. "Oh, I know that," he says. "And everyone who has volunteered has been made aware, too. As you can imagine, the mage is more of an issue for my wolves than Tristan is. If he is foolish enough to bite a wolf, then this will all be over much sooner."

I grimace, but he is not wrong. There is always the chance that Tristan could use brute strength to kill a wolf, though wolves are often much stronger than vampires, but if he were to bite one and drink enough blood, it would kill him.

Werewolf blood is poisonous to vampires.

He should be able to sense them, of course, but that is not always foolproof. Vampires have heightened senses in comparison to humans, but we are not as sensitive as wolves.

Either way, it means the wolves are at lower risk—from Tristan, at least.

"We have everything in place to begin searching tomorrow," Deacon continues. "I thought you might want to run this information back to Crai Vasile first. If there are any changes he wants to be made to the plan, then we can take them into consideration, but Hunter Moreau has already agreed."

"I am sure it will all be fine," I murmur. There is no emotion at all in Deacon's voice when he mentions Vasile. I do not know why they do not speak, but it does not appear to affect him.

Deacon stands, and I realise the meeting is over, pushing to my feet as well. He shakes Elle's hand again and Chaya moves over to the door to open it. I am just about to grasp his hand when pain shoots through me, spidering out from my back and chest, from wounds I cannot see.

I let out a cry, doubling over, and Elle is back by my side, her hand on my shoulder. "Lucien? What's happening?"

Deacon moves close too, closer than Elle would like from the way I hear her hiss.

"Look at me," Deacon says. He puts a hand on the back of my neck, holding me firm. "Look at me."

There is a command in his voice, and I cannot do anything but lift my eyes. I still hurt all over, but though my back throbs, the pain in my chest is what concerns me. It has tripped some instinct that tells me I need to leave.

Something is terribly wrong.

"Tell me what you're thinking," Deacon orders.

"I need to—I need to leave."

"And go where?"

One face swims in my mind. I bite out the next word. "Kieran."

Elle's grip tightens on my shoulder, fingers digging in to the point of pain. I can almost taste her concern in the air.

"The human," Deacon says.

I nod.

"All right." Deacon puts one hand on my chest, right where the pain is centred. "You need to breathe. That pain you feel here? It will mostly go if you centre yourself."

I bare my fangs before I can stop myself. I need to be with Kieran. Something has happened to him; I am sure of it. I need—

"I mean it," Deacon bites out. Silver swims in his eyes as he stares me down, but though his power is heavier than when we walked in, I do not back down. "Elle, please."

Elle leans in closer, and I let her. She is known, safe. "Whatever's happening, I'm sure he's okay," she says, voice steady. "But you won't be able to check on him like this. You can't lose control among random humans."

"I won't."

I growl again when the pain shifts but try to focus on where I am. On who I am. For a second, I think I see Tristan standing before me, but the image is gone as soon as it appears, a strange impossibility.

Deacon has not let go. I focus on his heavy hand on the back of my neck, as well as the other pressing almost painfully into my sternum. He watches me with hooded eyes, and I realise he knows something, something I have yet to grasp.

It is a few minutes before the worst of the pain passes. My back and chest still throb, but I retract my fangs and take a breath.

"I think…" My voice comes out hoarse. My throat hurts as though I have been screaming. "I think I am okay."

Elle nods. She does not let go of me. Deacon moves his hand from my chest, though he, too, does not let go of the back of my neck.

"Has this happened before?" Deacon asks.

"No," I say. When I shake my head, my hair tumbles forward, obscuring my vision. "What is wrong with me?"

"Nothing," Deacon replies. The answer is quick, and when I look at him, his eyes are piercing. "You should go and—"

My phone rings. It is the ringtone I have reserved only for Adam, so I fish the device out of my pocket, finally shaking off both Elle's and Deacon's grips.

"Lucien, something's happened."

I swallow hard, aware that the others can hear the call. Chaya still stands by the door, her face unreadable. "What is it?"

"Tristan found us at the pub. Kieran was—I'm sorry, I should never have let him—But he was going to fight me on it anyway, so I had to—"

I shake my head. I cannot keep up. "Adam. What happened?"

"Kieran needed some air. Sam told him—ten minutes. He had to stay where we could see him, but then he was gone. Tristan found him, threw him into a car windscreen."

I swallow around a sudden lump in my throat. "He is…"

"It's bad, Lucien," Adam says. His voice is small, worried for both Kieran's well-being and his own. I do not blame him for what happened. I could never. "He won't let us take him to the hospital."

"What?"

"He won't. We're at the flat. You have to come here, please. If he gets worse…"

"I will be there soon."

I listen for Adam's agreement and goodbye, only hanging up once I have heard both. When I look up, Deacon and Elle are watching me expectantly.

I look at Elle. "We have to go."

She nods. She still has enough sense of mind to turn to Deacon and incline her head respectfully. "Thank you for your hospitality."

"Not at all." Deacon looks at her briefly, but his gaze burns into me again. "He will be fine, chieftain. But you should set eyes on him, to be sure."

I frown but nod, and Chaya opens the door. I pause in the doorway, and the still-throbbing pain in my back is what gives me the courage to turn and meet Deacon's gaze.

"What do you know?" I ask him.

He extends his hands helplessly. "Talk to him. Ask him what you want to know."

I do not understand. I cannot fathom what is happening, only that the pain is still there, only that the tugging in my chest—the desire to see Kieran, to put my hands on him—is getting stronger. "Thank you for your counsel, alpha."

Sadness crosses Deacon's face as he nods like he knows I will not ask. I do not wish to. If this is part of what Kieran is keeping to himself, then I have already resolved to let him keep those secrets for as long as he must.

I turn away, and Chaya lets us out into the night. Elle's quick thinking is the only thing that has us jumping in a car rather than running all the way to Kieran's flat. It is not particularly close, and our running would not have been any faster, but I cannot stand the thought of remaining still, not even for a second.

Luckily, the driver seems to understand. Or perhaps Elle growled something in her ear before she ushered me into the back seat. I am unsure whether the pain is lessening with each passing minute, or whether I am simply becoming used to it.

"We're nearly there," Elle murmurs. "Adam will be waiting for us."

I do not doubt that. The part of my mind that is not occupied with my worry for Kieran is furious at myself. Kieran should never have been out of Adam's sight, but that is not his burden to bear. I should have postponed the meeting with Deacon, or asked Kieran to stay home, or—

The car pulls up and I barrel out of it, pausing only as I see Adam hurrying towards me. His face is stricken, ghostly pale, and he sweeps into a low bow when he is only a few feet away.

"I'm so sorry," he chokes out. "If I'd just—"

I step closer and put a hand on Adam's shoulder, forcing him to look up. "It is not your fault," I say. "Tristan is the only one to blame."

"I didn't catch him either."

"That does not matter." Elle has already called Njáll and Vasile, and both have confirmed Adam called them as soon as he was able. They are hunting Tristan even as we speak. "You did what I needed you to."

He shakes his head, but I pull him into a hug, wincing when Adam presses against my chest. Adam jerks back, eyes wide. "What happened to you?"

"Not to him," Elle says, stepping up beside the two of us. She looks up at the building. "Where's Kieran?"

Adam bites his lip. "Inside. He said he didn't need to go to a hospital, but, Lucien, I don't know if Sam can heal him—there was so much blood…"

I can smell it on Adam's hands, his clothes. My head spins with it. "I need to see him."

The wards will let us in, but I have never entered the building. I have always wanted to give Kieran his privacy, and the idea of going inside feels like I am pushing too far, too quickly.

"Go," Elle says, her voice hard. "We'll keep watch out here. We'll be okay."

I nod and make sure Adam is inside the wards before I stride towards the door. It has caught on the latch, so I open it and slip inside. I had thought I would have to try to work out where Kieran's flat is in relation to the window I see him through on occasion, but the pull in my chest is stronger here, more directional, and it is not long before I find myself standing outside a door on the third floor, listening to the murmur of voices within.

Listening to Sam's voice. I knock, and the silence is heavy before footsteps head in my direction.

Sam's eyes widen when he opens it, and he uses his body to block the view. "Lucien," he says. "I didn't… What are you…"

"Kieran is injured." The words are hard to say.

"Yeah."

"I need to see him."

Sam bites the inside of his cheek. He does not want to let me in, that much is clear, and I swallow the snarl that threatens to rumble up from my chest. I have to. I must set eyes on him, to know he will survive this.

"Sam." Kieran's voice is low and pained, and Sam whips around to look at him but does not move from the doorway. "Let him in."

Sam studies me again for a moment before he nods, stepping back with a sigh. I take one step into the flat, all my attention narrowed on the man lying on the sofa. He is on his front, shirt gone, and what I can see of his back—

"Lucien," Kieran says, and my eyes snap away from the mess of skin and blood and to his face. Exhaustion and pain pinch at the corners of his eyes, and I stumble to his side, dropping to my knees next to his head.

Sam closes the door with a sigh. "I'll go clean myself up," he mutters, and I hardly notice as another door in the flat shuts, too.

"I'll be fine," Kieran says. He extends his hand and I take it between my own. When I look along the length of him, my vision blurs, my eyes hot.

The scent of his blood is almost overwhelming, but where I expected it would make me weak, hungry, all I feel is concern—and terror.

"They were right," I reply. "You should be at a hospital."

Kieran squeezes my hand. It is a surprisingly firm grip, for all the pain I know he must be in. "No. Lucien, look at me."

I do, and he pushes up onto an elbow, bringing our faces closer together.

"I promise you. I'll be fine."

"Why hasn't Sam healed you?"

"It's not—It doesn't matter." He shakes his head, wincing when something pulls. I hold his hand more tightly. "I wasn't expecting it, but I will be okay. I just need some time."

"He threw you into a car!"

"Yeah, I know."

"And you are…" I trail off. The pull in my chest is gone, apparently soothed by his presence even if he is injured. When I try to feel for whatever instinct is there, all I sense is that Kieran is not lying to me.

He did not expect Tristan.

He will be all right.

"I'm what, Lucien?" Kieran's dark eyes burn when they meet mine. It is as though he is daring me to say it, daring me to voice an impossible idea.

I open my mouth and close it when no words come out. I shake my head and try again. "I am not certain anymore."

Kieran glances away, swallowing hard, and though his hand does not leave mine, for a moment, I wish I had never said anything at all.

"Are you okay?" Kieran asks finally. He will not meet my gaze.

"Me?" I scoff, a sudden anger surging through me—that he would worry for me, when he was in such danger. Kieran looks at me and the anger fades. "I am fine. Alpha Deacon was unfailingly polite. There was no danger there."

Kieran's frown tells me that was the wrong answer. I freeze when he tugs his hand free and lifts it, pressing his palm against my chest.

It is just where Deacon touched me. Just where that gnawing feeling sits, deep behind my ribs.

"You're sure?" Kieran whispers.

"Yes." I swallow. "Kieran, what—"

Kieran hooks his hand around the back of my neck and drags me down for a kiss. It is harsher than it has any right to be, our mouths coming together almost violently, but I kiss him back all the same. When Kieran bites my lower lip sharply, I groan into his mouth, and though I know I should try to slow things down, gentle them, I do not know how.

"Kieran," I say against his mouth. It sounds like a plea.

"I need you to be okay," Kieran all but growls. "Promise me, Lucien. Promise me you'll take care of yourself."

The desperate tone of his words tugs at my heart. "I will," I say, brushing our lips together. "I always do."

Kieran shakes his head, but pain creeps into his expression, and I realise how he must be straining to lift his head. I move back and encourage him to lie down flat again, stroking a hand through his hair.

"I will come and see you tomorrow night," I say. "You need to rest now."

I still have to hunt with the wolves, but I think I can push that back by an hour or so. I will not send Adam in my stead.

Kieran nods, searching my face before he lowers his head. I stroke my fingers down his cheek, and he turns to press his lips to my palm. There is a thrumming sensation in my chest, a realisation that he has come to a decision, and that it is one I cannot influence and will not like.

"Tomorrow, Kieran," I say firmly.

He nods again and settles on the sofa, closing his eyes. "Tomorrow," he replies.