Chapter 5

Blake

Blake was a patient dragon. He loved Angela with a passion that burned through his soul like lava. No one would keep her as safe as he could. But it was getting too hard to be close to her and a million miles away at the same time. He respected her position and her role as a mother. It had been months since they had sex, and he wasn't sure how much more he could wait. It wasn't just sex with her that he missed. It was touching her, holding her, being with her.

He listened to Alistair talking to Angela and fought the urge to punch the guy. Every time he opened his mouth to speak, Blake tensed. Something about Alistair made him completely untrustworthy. Yet nothing specifically stood out, and Angela changed the topic whenever he brought it up.

"Your numbers are the lowest they've been," Alistair said.

They were in the Oval Office. Angela sat on one couch, and Alistair sat across from her. Blake stood close to the window.

"And next month, they'll be back up. Why should I worry about my numbers? I already have the job." Angela played with the string of pearls around her neck. Blake noticed she always wore one of her pearl necklaces when she had public appearances, like the swearing-in ceremony earlier in the day.

He fucking loved the look of her in pearls, especially when that was all she wore.

"You need to worry about the numbers because you need to decide if you will seek a second term."

Angela stood and walked to the back of the desk, sitting in the chair. "Re-election? I'm just now feeling comfortable with this job, and you want me to start thinking about something two years away?"

"The election may be two years away, but people are making decisions about you today."

"And what decisions do you think they are making about me, Alistair?"

He pushed some buttons on a tablet, walked over to the desk, and showed her the screen. Blake could see over her shoulder. It was a collection of headline pictures from several newspapers. They were not friendly.

Angela took the tablet and scrolled through all of them. She held out the tablet to him. "These are tabloids, not legitimate newspapers."

Alistair arched an eyebrow, took the tablet, and thumbed through the pictures. "People pay more attention to tabloids than papers like the New York Times. But since you mentioned legitimate newspapers, look at this." He handed her the tablet again.

It was an article from The Wall Street Journal. "Can Bishop be a Good Mother and the President?"

Blake tensed. How could anyone claim that she was not a good mother? She was a working mother, yes, and she did a damn good job of being both. Tristan had shown him many articles like this one. They all questioned her character without any evidence to support their claims. His brother suggested Blake should let someone else be in charge of her security. He claimed Blake was too close and couldn't be objective. He also pointed out there were a lot of rumors floating around town about the type of relationship he and Angela had. Blake dismissed them. Angela was his mate, and he was the only one who could keep her perfectly safe. He would never let anyone else take his place.

"So, they don't think I can have a job and be a mother?" Angela asked.

"You must understand that you are the first woman to sit behind that desk. Most people are still not sure you can do the job," Alistair said.

Angela glowered at Alistair and steepled her fingers, resting them under her chin. "Then why the hell did I get elected? And it wasn't a close election. I won by a landslide."

"That was two years ago, Madam President. Everything has changed since the explosion."

"Speaking of which, I find it very hard to believe that no one has been able to explain what happened. How is that possible?"

"It has been a top priority since it happened. There is still more evidence pointing to a mechanical problem."

Blake stepped toward the sniveling man. It had not been a mechanical problem. He had smelled the bomb ignite half a second before the helicopter exploded. Did this man take him for an idiot?

Angela must have sensed his frustration because she held out a hand, stopping him from getting closer. "Alistair, you weren't there. I was. Blake was there. It was a bomb."

Alistair's eye twitch was so slight that Blake would have missed it if he had not been glaring at the man. He would make a mistake at some point, and Blake would surely be there when it happened. It was just a matter of time.

"I'm sure there was a lot of confusion at the time. It would have been too hard for anyone to know exactly what happened. We'll wait until the investigation is finished."

Angela stood up from the chair and walked to the front of the desk, standing in front of Alistair. "Oh, you mean the investigation that has undergone three reorganizations and has lost vital information numerous times. Tell me again why Operation Excalibur was taken off the investigation."

"Since working with supernatural beings is still new and unproven, the Security Council felt it would be better to keep it to a human set of investigators."

"But Operation Excalibur isn't new. It's been here for generations. At least, that's what I was told." She pointed a finger-shotgun at Alistair. "Let me ask you something. Was this level of incompetence ever an issue when there was a man who sat at this desk?"

Alistair kept a blank face. "I'm not sure what you are implying, but I can assure you the President's safety is of the utmost importance to everyone around here. Gender doesn't play into our duty to the Office."

"Hmm." Angela checked her watch. "If you'll excuse me, I have another appointment I need to attend." She nodded to Blake, who followed her to the door.

"The American people aren't concerned about you being a good mother. They are concerned about you having a relationship with a-" Alistair paused, "- with a monster."

Angela spun around faster than Blake could have imagined and walked close enough to him that she could have smelled his lunch on his breath. "What I do in the privacy of my own life is my business."

"See, that's your problem, Madam President. You still assume you have a private life. Every President before you understood that before they ever won the election."

"Yes, and how many of those Presidents stayed faithful to their wives? How many of those Presidents used their Secret Service details to cover up their private lives? This is nothing I wish to discuss with you."

The tension between Angela and Alistair blanketed the room like toxic smoke. After an extended moment, Angela turned around, waited for Blake to open the door, and walked out of her Office. Then she surprised Blake by walking right back through the door.

"Mr. McCloud, this is my Office. I do not need to leave, but you do because you are not needed at my next meeting."

Blake wanted to clap and throw a small party. It was about damn time she started taking control of her power. She was the one in charge, and everyone needed to remember that.

Angela stood very still while Alistair nodded once. Blake stepped up behind her and put a hand on her arm.

"Senator Chadwick has already created an inquiry committee." Alistair walked to the door.

"Senator Chadwick? Does he think he has a chance to be the next President?" Angela said.

Alistair turned and glanced from Angela to Blake and then back to Angela. The corner of his upper lip formed a sneer. "The chances of him winning are getting better every day." He walked out, closing the door behind him.

She shrugged away and walked to her desk, leaning on the front. "I'm so tired of that man."

"Then get rid of him," Blake said.

She narrowed her eyes at him. "You don't get it, do you? I need him."

Blake crossed his arms over his chest. "You don't need anyone who doesn't respect you, and Alistair McCloud has no respect for you."

"There is no room for respect in politics. I used to think there was. Ollie and I spent hours talking about the nobility of American politics and how much better the world could be if other countries subscribed to our ideals." Angela dropped her gaze. "I'm sorry. I didn't mean to make you feel uncomfortable."

"Why are you apologizing?" He walked toward her, intending to wrap her in his arms. She stepped away and walked behind her desk, sitting in the chair.

"I didn't mean to make you uncomfortable by bringing up my husband." She shook her head and clicked her tongue. "I'm probably the only person who has sat at this desk who has apologized for making anyone uncomfortable. Maybe women shouldn't be in charge of countries."

"I have read a lot about Oliver since I met you. He was a great man. I would never be uncomfortable because you talked about the man you loved. He was Benji's father and your inspiration for taking this job."

"Do you still miss Lorelei?"

Blake looked away at the mention of his first mate. It seemed like a lifetime ago that they were planning their future. Xerxes ended all their plans.

He let out a loud sigh. "I still think about her."

"Do you ever think about what could have been?"

"Not as much as I used to."

"You don't talk about her much. Why is that?"

Blake shrugged. "I'm not sure. Maybe, like you, I worried about making you feel uncomfortable."

She reached across and took his hand. "I wish we could go back to your family's home."

He wrapped his fingers around her hand and squeezed.

"I'm sorry we haven't had much time together since we came back. There never seems to be time to get everything done."

"I'm not going anywhere," he said. "We are mates."

"You've said that so many times, but I'm not sure I even know what that means."

He gently pulled her hand, guiding her from the desk to the couch. "We are alone for the moment. Come sit with me."

She sat beside him, slipped off her shoes, and leaned her head on his shoulder. "I hate that he's right."

"Who? Alistair?"

"Yes. I knew this job meant living in a fishbowl, but I had no idea how hard it would be. People won't be happy with me dating anyone. Now that people suspect you are my boyfriend, nothing else seems to matter." She lifted her head. "Two days ago, I facilitated a conversation between both parties to create a sound budget that will serve everyone well this next year. I've signed more bills helping families and women than any other president. I've increased environmental measures that will help the next three generations. None of the reporters wanted to discuss that at the ceremony this morning. None of them wanted to talk about Ambassador Baptiste. By the way, I think she was an excellent choice. They only wanted to discuss that dumb picture of you flying me away from the helicopter and if we were dating."

"They are simple-minded people with no real concerns for what's important. You did a great job evading their questions."

Angela lifted her head. "Maybe I should start answering their questions instead of evading them."

Blake furrowed his forehead. "Do you mean you should tell them we are dating?"

She sucked in her bottom lip. "Are we?"

"Are we what?"

"Are we dating?"

He wanted to answer her by taking off all her clothes and worshipping every part of her body, but that would be very inappropriate. But it was difficult for his cock to understand he needed to wait. Instead, he took her hand and said, "Angela, I love you. You are my mate."

"So, then we are dating?"

One side of his mouth lifted. "Dragons don't date. Once we fall in love, we mate, and that's it. I'm not sure how to date."

She popped off the couch and clapped her hands. "Well, we need to change that. Let's go out to dinner tonight."

"Go out?"

"Yes, I know the perfect Italian restaurant not far from here. I've been there a thousand times before. It's small, and they have a private table in the back. The owners are the sweetest people. It will be perfect."

Blake smiled at how quickly she turned from boss-babe to giddy teenager. "I said I wasn't sure how to date, but I know enough about it to know that the man normally asks."

Angela put her hands on her hips. "That's old-fashioned thinking. I am a modern woman. I mean, I am the first woman President of the United States. I could force you to go out with me."

He sat back against the couch and stretched out his legs in front of him. "I would like to see you try," he said.

"You forget, Mr. Sullivan, that I am technically the Commander-in-Chief of the entire military. So, yes, I can force you to do whatever I want."

He held up his hands in surrender. "Okay, Madam President. I will go out to dinner with you."

"Great."

Knock, knock, knock.

Angela sat on the couch, put her shoes back on, and said, "Come in."

Penny walked in with Benji, and Nikki walked behind them.

"Madam President, I knew you'd want to see Benji when he came home," Penny said.

Angela held out her arms, and the young boy reluctantly let his mother hug him. She tousled his hair. Blake couldn't help but laugh when he noticed Benji cringe. He knew exactly how it felt to feel like a man but to have a mother who would always see him as her baby.

"How was school?" she asked him.

"Fine."

"Was it good to see all your friends?"

"Sure."

"Were your friends happy to see you?"

"Yeah."

"Do you have any homework?"

"Uh-huh."

Angela held Benji at arm's length. "Did you lose the ability to talk in complete sentences?"

He mumbled something and walked out of the Office. Angela looked at Nikki, but Nikki just shrugged and followed Benji.

"What has gotten into that kid?" Angela asked Blake.

"Maybe he just didn't want to be mothered."

Angela put her hands on her hips and looked between Penny and Blake. "Jumping June Bugs. What does that mean?"

Blake smothered a smirk at Angela's use of her pet phrase. For whatever reason, the proper southern lady in her felt that Jumping June Bugs was the equivalent of what the fuck. He still didn't know what a June Bug was.

"It means that sometimes he doesn't want his mother to treat him like a baby," Blake said.

"Well, he's not a man yet, that's for sure."

"In his mind, he's starting down that path." Blake put his hands in his pockets. "Let me get someone to replace me for a few minutes, and I'll talk to him."

"I will be fine for a few minutes. You don't have to get someone to replace you. Goodness, Blake. I'm not helpless." Angela turned her back to him.

When they first came back, they often argued about it. Over time, she stopped arguing with him and just accepted it. His team was much more capable of handling human and supernatural threats, but even he had to admit they had become more intrusive than when the FBI guarded her.

He stepped out in the hall and asked the bear shifter outside the Office to step inside. Then, he headed toward Angela's apartment. Tristan stepped out into the corridor from a side office.

"Hey Blake, do you have a minute?" Tristan said.

Blake looked from his brother to the other end of the corridor. "Not really."

Tristan stepped closer to him and said, "I'd like to introduce you to someone and tell you about a situation that's happening."

Blake recognized the tone in his brother's voice and knew he could not avoid talking to him. He followed Tristan into the office. A ginger-haired man with a short beard stood and held out his hand. Blake shook it and sat in front of the desk.

Tristan nodded to the blond. "Blake, this is Lincoln Talbert. Lincoln, this is Blake, my baby brother."

Blake scoffed at his brother.

"It's good to meet you," Lincoln said.

"Good to meet you," Blake said.

"Lincoln heads a small special operations unit within Homeland Security. He and his pack help every security division apprehend supernaturals."

Blake narrowed his eyes and studied Lincoln. Wolf.

Tristan continued. "Lincoln came to see me today because he needs my help."

"What does this have to do with me?"

"Show him," Tristan said.

Lincoln nodded and then opened the folder sitting on Tristan's desk. He pulled out a picture of an older woman with her hair pulled back into a braid. Even after thirty-five years, he recognized that face. She was even more stunning than she'd been when he watched her drive away from their beach house in Half Moon Bay, California.

Heather Fairchild had been barely old enough to drink when they met at a ski resort in Lake Tahoe. After Blake's father kicked him out of the family home, he wandered around the world for years, settling in Monte Carlo for a while and then making his way to Lake Tahoe. He didn't like the cold ski resort town as much as he thought he would, so he followed Heather to California, where they bought a beach house. He was moments away from committing the rest of his life to her when she found out about a job in San Francisco. She moved away, and he never heard from her again.

"Our investigation connected the two of you," Lincoln said.

Blake took the picture and studied the face he once loved. She had always loved the sun, which was evident in her face"s wrinkles. But they didn't seem to age her. On the contrary, it made her seem refined and wise.

He handed the photo back to Lincoln. "Heather and I owned a house in California for a while. She moved out, and I stayed. End of the story because I never saw her again."

"Are you sure you haven't contacted her since she left?" Lincoln asked.

Blake's annoyance was slowly turning to frustration. "I think I would know if I had contact with someone."

Lincoln returned the picture to the folder and pulled out another one. Blake also recognized that picture. The black box channeled Xerxes' power into the nanotechnology he tried to use. He believed that if he could funnel his power into nanobots, he could make a bigger army of followers faster than just using his magic alone.

When Operation Excalibur destroyed Xerxes' lab and rescued Benji, an asset Tristan hired to betray Xerxes, he could steal the power source. Still, they were never able to find all the nanotechnology Xerxes created. The picture Lincoln showed Blake was of the missing piece.

"Where did you get this?" Blake asked.

"I have my sources. One of Xerxes' lackeys, a demon named Keyser, tried to duplicate the lab and finish what Xerxes had started. We tracked him to Arkansas, but the trail went cold. However, we did find something else."

Lincoln pulled out several more photos and lined them up on the desk. Each of them was a grotesque mutilated image of a shifter in mid-shift. Next to each tortured shifter was a man posing next to the body.

"What is this?" Blake asked. "Who are these people?"

Blake's dragon roared inside his head. This was cruel and heartless, unlike anything he'd seen before. He wanted to turn away, but his eyes were glued to the pain in each shifter's eyes.

"Those," Tristan started, "are wealthy men who pay a lot of money to hunt the world's biggest, smartest, and toughest game."

"Shifters?" Blake asked.

Neither man answered him. They didn't have to.