Chapter Fourteen

CHAPTER FOURTEEN

M organ stormed down the stairs, kicking the hem of her dress. The stupid Faerie clothing hadn't worked out as she expected. She did as instructed, focusing on what she needed for the upcoming meeting.

She'd expected to be dressed in some warrior garb to face the threat. Instead, the enchanted clothing malfunctioned or some shit, and she'd ended up trapped in a damned dress.

Not that it wasn't stunning.

The top of the dress was heart-shaped and clung to her breasts, before the material cascaded down in a full length skirt. The whole dress was covered with a light, see-through gauze. It was secured at her throat and trailed down her arms to puff out at her wrists. Vines and leaves covered the dress, the material shimmering like it had been dipped in stardust.

But it was the color that boggled her mind.

She looked like a fucking rainbow.

The top of the dress was a light pastel blue, fading to a charm-green color, before it switched to yellow, gold, orange before ending in a light red at the hem. Though it galled her to admit it, the dress was stunning.

Kincade was the first one who spotted her when he walked out of the study. When he caught sight of her, he stopped dead and stared. He didn't breathe, didn't move, didn't even blink.

Like Atlas, he wore a kind of fancy military dress that looked both formal and functional. The only difference was the uniform was all in black.

He looked like a warrior of old ready to do battle.

His hair was slicked back, a wave to it that gave him a sexy look, the stubble on his jaw already growing back despite just having shaved. His green eyes were bright, gleaming like a jewels in the dark light. His impressive chest and broad shoulders only accentuated his lean and lanky form.

"What's taking you so…" Ascher strode out after Kincade as he spoke, then followed the gargoyle's gaze, his voice trailing off when he caught sight of her. "Whoa…wow!"

He wore the same outfit as Kincade, like they'd had them specially designed for her team. He wasn't as big as the others, only an inch taller than herself, but he was all muscle like most shifters. His blond hair was slightly tousled barely staying out of his eyes, unwilling to be tamed, despite his best attempts. His blue eyes were electric as they lingered on her form.

At the commotion, the rest of the team spilled out of the study.

Each was dressed exactly the same, a united front, and her breath caught at the sight of them, not realizing that she'd come to a stop.

Ryder towered over the rest, his sandy brown hair shaggy, reaching well past his shoulders. Unlike the others, he didn't bother slicking it back, giving him an aura of wildness that the others lacked. His whisky eyes warmed at the sight of her, human intelligence and wolf cunning staring boldly back as his wolf rode him hard.

Much to her surprise, Caedmon joined the rest of the men, then stilled, his yellow eyes widening in surprise when he caught sight of her, and she flushed under his regard. Though he didn't match the rest of the guys, his outfit was just as formal.

The braids in his black hair were much more prominent, the strands threaded in a way that they hung behind his ear and draped down over each shoulder. His long bangs were pulled away from his face into a third braid that hung down the back of his head and looked more like knots than an actual braid.

The hairstyle made the braille-like lines and dots swirling along the side of his face stand out in stark relief. It also revealed a decorative metal clipped onto his ears, making the pointed tips look more pronounced. The design was more primitive, with bold swirls and angles, the deep gold color standing out against his dark hair and making his eyes appear all the deeper.

The combination made him look savage and brutal and sexy as fuck.

Reminding her that he was an apex predator no matter what form he wore.

Uncomfortable under his heated gaze, she shifted her focus to Draven, the last to leave the room.

While the others remained frozen, he sauntered to the bottom of the stairs, his long hair slicked back. His form was sleek but muscular, allowing him to easily hold his own in any battle. He gazed up at her with a smirk that reminded her of his womanizing ways when they first met.

He was confident and cocky and sexy as hell.

That was until you looked into his stormy blue eyes.

Underneath was a man devoted to only her, his love shining through all the darkness he'd endured just to reach her. When he held out his hand, she was helpless to resist, descending the rest of the stairs. He tugged on her arm, spinning her in a circle, causing the dress to fan out around her legs. The lights caught the stardust sewn into the material until she sparkled like a princess.

"Absolutely stunning." Draven lifted her hand to his mouth…then the fucker licked the back of it. "I licked it, now it's mine."

"Dork," she muttered, but couldn't resist smiling at the idiot. Before he could get up to any more shenanigans, Kincade caught her free hand and pulled her close until she was nestled against his chest.

His mouth hovered just over hers, so close that she could feel the heat of him. Then he gave a muted groan and pulled away, reminding her of the upcoming meeting, and the fairy-tale quality of the evening vanished.

She stepped back, shivering at the loss of his warmth. "How much time do we have before they arrive?"

But even as she spoke, the wards around the coven warbled like a gong. Morgan grimaced and brushed at her skirts, then sighed in defeat and headed toward the door. "I believe our guests have arrived."

The guys stiffened, going into warrior mode, the enjoyment of a second ago wiped away. A tiny spark of unease gathered in the pit of her stomach, and she stomped it down. She didn't have time to be anxious. She'd faced down bigger and badder to just survive, and she'd do it again.

"Follow our lead. Don't say anything more than necessary. Let us do the talking if at all possible," Atlas said as he came to stand next to her, Caedmon right behind him, taking up residence on her other side, the pair of them imposing dressed in their finery.

Though they'd discussed this in the meeting, she still didn't like the idea of them drawing attention to themselves, wanting them as far away from the fae as possible, but she had been outvoted.

Morgan nodded reluctantly. The guys studied her for another beat, as if unsure she would behave. She'd had no interaction with other elves besides Caedmon and Atlas, but the stories they told about their own kind were not very favorable. While they might be honorable, they also were a bunch of asses, and the last thing she wanted to do was offend them and cause more trouble.

They already wanted to kill her, and they hadn't even met her yet.

Just think how they'd react when she opened her mouth.

Kincade pulled back his shoulders, the mantle of leadership settling over him. "Take her upstairs. We'll greet the fae contingent and bring them to you."

When Atlas touched her elbow, Morgan crossed her arms, refusing to budge. She glanced at her mates suspiciously, not trusting them an inch.

The fuckers were up to something.

When Atlas reached for her again, she jerked away. "No, I'm not going anywhere until you tell me what you have planned."

She wouldn't put it past them to lock her in a room to keep her safe. She didn't give a shit if the fae had to wait, she wasn't moving until she had answers.

Ryder stepped in front of her, and she braced herself to be tossed over his shoulder. She could fight him, but she wanted the fae to see them as a united front. She suspected if the fae saw even a hint of unrest in the group, they would destroy them.

"Do you trust me?" Ryder stared down at her with an earnest expression.

"You know I do." She scowled back at him, answering begrudgingly.She hated that they used that on her every time she wanted something they thought was unreasonable.

Draven snorted and nudged the big man out of the way, his earnest blue eyes clear of mischief. "Fae observe certain formalities. They thrive on order and following customs. The wolves met them at the wards, acting as guards, and will escort them here. As your mates, we will welcome them into the house and make sure they're unarmed before we lead them to you."

"What the hell?!" She reached out to smack him, then glared at him when he danced out of reach, holding up his hands to ward her off. "Why the hell didn't you just say that in the first place?"

Draven tugged his shirt back into place, completely unruffled. Ascher looked a little sheepish and shrugged. "Because you're so stubborn that we thought it would be easier to just do it."

"It was my decision." Kincade ran a hand through his hair, a grimace of distance on his face. "I thought you would insist on being here to ensure nothing happened to us when they first arrived. They need to see you as our queen. They need to show you respect. If you greet them at the door, they would see that as a break in protocol."

Morgan sighed, not sure that she could blame the guys for their small deception. She hated protocol and rules and probably would've done exactly as he said. She didn't like the idea of her mates being alone with the fae, even if it was only for a few minutes.

But she sucked it up and pulled up her big girl panties.

It was her they wanted.

She had to trust the fae would honor the rules of hospitality and not try to kill them.

She turned toward Atlas and Caedmon. "Let's do this."

They each grabbed a hold of her arm, like they expected her to change her mind. Her skin tingled at the contact, the intensity of their touch distracting her so much that her worries vanished as they hauled her all the way up the stairs.

A knock on the door sent her heart thudding against her ribs, the ominous sound ringing in her ears, and she glanced over her shoulder, even as the guys pulled her down the hall.

She dug in her feet, but they shoved her into the war room before she could tell them that splitting up was a horrible idea. Before she could open her mouth, she was distracted by the sight in front of her.

The war room had been transformed back into the ballroom once more, the space long and narrow. Most of the weapons had been removed so only the older ones remained, put on display like status symbols. An ancient long table sat in the middle of the room, big enough to seat thirty people.

Three chairs were on either side of the table—a larger, ornate one stood in the center, while two smaller, plain ones sat on either side. Directly behind the chairs on opposite sides of the room were two benches that rested against the wall, each with two metal wolves standing guard like bookends.

The wolves didn't move, didn't breathe .

To anyone who looked at them, they were nothing more than statues. The magic that clung to them was so light, she wouldn't have noticed it if she hadn't been looking for it.

Like her magic had infected them to a level that they were now sentient.

Just like the house.

Vines and plants decorated the room, climbing up the walls and stretching across the ceiling. The vegetation completely covered the second entrance to the room—an escape hatch, if needed. The beautiful foliage was breathtaking, not something a human would ever be able to duplicate. The riot of colors drew her gaze, and she'd swear the flowers were actually blooming even as she watched.

The room looked like something from another world.

As Caedmon led her toward the far side of the room, she chanced a glance at Atlas trailing behind them. "When did you have time to do this? It's spectacular. Your abilities are incredible."

The dark umber in his green eyes softened, a pleased smile curling his lips. His chin lifted as he preened under the praise, and damned if it wasn't the most adorable thing that she'd ever seen.

Caedmon pulled out the middle chair, indicating she should sit. She tucked her dress behind her legs and settled herself carefully. "Who sits in the other two chairs?"

"The leader will sit in the middle." Caedmon gently tucked the chair closer to the table. "The other two chairs are reserved for people of importance, depending on who they decide to bring, usually a mate or an advisor."

Before they could say more, both men straightened and turned toward the door. Even the slightest hint of emotions melted away, and she realized just how much they had relaxed around her since she'd first met them. They came to stand behind her, each moving in unison as they lifted a hand to rest on the corner posts of the chair.

A claim of possession .

She just wasn't sure if they were claiming her or if they were showing their guests that they belonged to her. Either was fine…even though her only claim to Caedmon was through the pack. The thought made the mark on her arm itch, and she rubbed the spot distractedly.

When the door opened, she deflated slightly when Arthur, Mistress McKay, and MacGregor scurried into the room. Mistress McKay was stunning, dressed in a gorgeous vintage evening gown of pure silver. The simple design had a dark silver underdress with a metallic, glittery tulle overlay. The tulle sleeves draped down to her elbows, while the tulle outer skirt seemed to float around her like a cloud.

MacGregor was dressed more formally than she'd ever seen, matching Mistress McKay with a silver shirt and darker metallic tie. He looked dapper, dressed in black pressed pants and vest, but that was the only thing tamed. His bushy white eyebrows dominated his face, his stark white hair looked like he'd stuck his hand in a socket. Wrinkles creased his face, his expression severe, but his sharp, faded blue eyes held an intelligence that eased the tight knot in her chest.

Like his presence alone would make everything okay.

Arthur stood behind him, and once again, she'd completely forgotten about his presence.

What the fucking hell?!

He dazzled, wearing a dark maroon suit with a black shirt and black tie, his form trim and fit. A silver pocket watch and chain with a tie clip finished off the outfit.

And damned if he didn't look even younger, almost jovial as he surveyed the room.

Like he was having the time of his life.

Arthur cleared his throat, threading his hands and resting them over his stomach. "We should take our seats. They're heading up the stairs."

MacGregor chuckled and nodded like they were old chums. He rested his hand on Mistress McKay's lower back and guided her toward the bench. They'd barely gotten themselves settled when the door opened again.

Her mates entered first, their expressions giving nothing away. She rose to her feet, scanning them for any injury, nearly sagging in relief when she found none, and the anxiety gripping her eased. They immediately came to her side, Ascher and Draven standing farther down the table on either side of Atlas and Caedmon. Kincade took the position to her right, which made sense, since he was basically second in charge. She was shocked when Ryder took the spot to her left, not sure what it meant.

She had no more time to ponder the question when four elven guards appeared in the doorway, surrounding a single woman. Her first impression was tall, each of them around six feet or more.

But when she got a good look at their faces, she nearly gaped in shock.

The similarities to Atlas were startling, the elves closely related to her mate in some way, possibly cousins, and her heart lurched in her chest.

She glanced at him quickly, only to see that he didn't react to them in any way, his face stoic.

The guards weren't so circumspect. One appeared indifferent, barely glancing at him like he was a stranger. Two others couldn't control the grimace of disgust, something so small that she didn't think she would've noticed if she hadn't been staring directly at them. Only one appeared sad, his eyes darkening just slightly, the only reaction he allowed himself.

Then their expressions were wiped clean.

It all took place in a matter of seconds. With her limited knowledge, the fae might as well have just screamed their emotions.

So far, she was less than impressed with them.

She expected them to be dressed as warriors, but they came in such finery, she had to bite her lip to stop it from curling in disgust .

No doubt that they thought to intimidate her.

Not a fucking chance.

The men were lithe, their eyes scanning the room, assessing the threats…and deemed them harmless.

More fool them.

The guys parted, revealing a woman who wore a dress that looked like it had been created from gossamer wings, the fabric glittering like a rainbow when the light struck it. The full-length skirt just skimmed the ground, and she walked in a way that made her appear like she was floating. The bodice clung to her shape, the material looking like it was made out of leaves that trailed down to the top of the skirt. Silver, lavished jewels cinched in her waist and decorated the edges along her bosom.

What made Morgan suck in a sharp breath wasn't her nearly alien beauty but her resemblance to Atlas.

Because damned if she wasn't looking at his mother.

The woman's eyes didn't even flicker in acknowledgement of her son.

Like they were complete strangers.

Morgan could almost feel ice forming at the chilly reception, and it took physical effort not to growl at the fucking bitch, protocol be damned.

When the woman's attention landed on Caedmon, her gaze widened just a fraction before she could control herself. Avarice made her light blue eyes gleam, and she all but rubbed her hands together with glee. "It is a pleasure to see you again, Caedmon."

Morgan stiffened with outrage, cursing herself for a fool.

She'd hoped meeting with the fae would have averted any future altercations. Now she very much feared she made things worse by making Caedmon a target.

The air thickened, the hairs on her arms rising as the beast in him lifted his massive head, the threat of violence almost physical. She slid protectively in front of Caedmon—which did little to block him since he was well over six feet.

But her action had the desired effect.

His beast gave a curious rumble, sending a puff of warm air against the back of her neck before retreating. The magic that was unique to him alone slowly dissipated.

When she glanced around the rest of the room, the hope that no one noticed the interaction between them crumbled to dust.

They saw and noted everything.

And they weren't happy.

Maybe they didn't want to kill her before today, though she still suspected she was the true target, but that would change when she refused to let Caedmon go without a fight. She absently rubbed her arm at the possessive thought.

The fae had cast him aside over a millennia ago, sentencing him to a life in literal hell ever since. She'd saved him from that life and refused to let the very people who put him there get their hands on him again.

She very much feared he wouldn't survive whatever they had planned for him next.

And that was completely unacceptable.

Not trusting the fae an inch, Morgan quickly began cataloging them as she would an adversary, trying to judge the biggest threat that needed to be eliminated first.

Their hair was a blinding silver, pulled back from their faces in a series of braids Morgan suspected meant rank or standing or something, but her knowledge and training regarding elves was seriously lacking. She cursed herself for not being better prepared.

They usually policed their own kind, few very rarely ever leaving Faerie.

Though they were supposed to turn over all their weapons at the door, she didn't doubt that they'd held onto a few blades. Magic practically shimmered off them in waves, and she wasn't sure if it was done as a show of power or if they just had so much that it couldn't be contained.

She was betting it was a combination of the two.

The necklace around her neck warmed, then the metal spun and twisted, forming what felt like a tiny coat of arms with a fierce, snarling wolf in the center .

Morgan took that as a sign not to let down her guard.

It was letting her know that they weren't alone.

The woman stepped forward, her imperial bearing making her look like she had something shoved up her ass. "I am Aoibh, high fae of the light from the House of Bláthnaid."

She said it like her name meant something, like Morgan should know her.

The fae were created from hundreds of different species, the elves just a subset of it. Elves considered themselves superior to other races, more dominant.

Morgan was done with the bullshit and not so slight insults.

Maybe it was time they learned not everyone would bow down and kiss their asses.

"Well, I guess no introductions are needed, right?" Morgan flashed her an unrepentant smile, beyond furious that she would treat Atlas with such disrespect. "Nothing says welcome to the family more than your in-laws trying to murder you, I guess."