Page 9 of Let Slip the Dogs of War

“Yeah, not all of us need to stare at the keyboard when we text.”

The door opens. I hear voices, angry voices, and then familiar magic.

Sam is here.

Dante is here, too.

“You—” I snap my mouth shut at Jeremiah’s dark look. Grant does not look upset or intimidated anyway. He meets my gaze steadily and his magic pulses again.

I feel it. What he has… Even compared to Sam, it is…

“What the fuck is going on?” the mage in question snarls as he stomps into the room. He stops short upon seeing me. Kieran is directly behind him, and he stops too, but he looks less surprised. I do not believe he is. I merely believe he expected nothing coming here, and therefore there is nothing to be surprised about.

The faint echo of magic inside me trembles when Dante appears. Quinn moves around them all as though he belongs here and perches next to Grant, which Vladimir allows with a sharp sweep of his eyes.

“Ophelia’s been taken to the Otherworld,” Jeremiah bites out. He looks at Kieran when he says it, but Sam and Dante are the ones to react. Sam swears. Dante looks as though he wishes to throw up.

Grant is still holding the note. He does not offer it to them. His eyes are on me.

“Why?” Kieran demands, a bite of command in his voice.

“They wish to use her as leverage,” Vladimir says. Jeremiah still stands, hovering. He wants to comfort this pack but does not know how.

“Against who? Us?”

Dante makes a faint sound at Kieran’s words, and Sam whips around toward him, grabs his wrist, and holds on tight. It is logical to think so. Their pack has taken any fae who has asked for safe haven. If the fae on the other side of the veil do not know that, I will be surprised.

“Against me,” I say, and all attention in the room shifts to me.

Sam studies me as though I am some specimen he wishes to flay open and have laid bare before him. Kieran’s brow is furrowed, and there may be anger in his dark eyes, but he waits, ready to hear me out.

Dante is still pale, a dull grey cast to his olive-toned skin. His newly purple hair puts me in mind of fields of lavender, and for a moment, my senses are full of the scent of it.

“Why?” Quinn breaks the silence. Unexpected to all of us, I think, for the way the mood shifts. Danger. The back of my neck prickles with it. Silver floods his eyes as I watch, and he clenches his hands into fists. “Why would they take her to get at you?”

“I—” I cannot lie. I desperately want to. I cannot have Dante believe something that is untrue, something about the person he is closest to in the world, but if I reveal the truth of our bond to him now—

Grant hisses through his teeth. I have taken too long, and he thinks me a coward for it. He holds up the note. “Here.”

Sam snatches it from his hand, softening the movement with a vaguely apologetic look. Quinn does not take his eyes off me. I have seen him more often in Hallowed Grounds of late, waiting for Drew, taking his place in his pack again.

I have heard, too, of the fierce kind of wolf he is. Exactly the kind that belongs in this pack.

“What the fuck,” Sam hisses and passes the note to Kieran, who has already read it over his shoulder. Dante angles in to read it too, and when his knees shake, Kieran reaches for him without looking, holding him upright.

“She’s… Ophelia’s your soulbond?” Dante asks, voice hoarse.

I taste iron again, words I cannot say fizzing out on my tongue. Quinn lets out a low, angry snarl.

“No,” I say. “You are.”

Chapter Four

Dante

There’s a second where I think I’m going to pass out. The room spins, and I blink quickly, trying to suck in a breath.

Kieran lets go of my arm. I’m untethered, and I bite the inside of my cheek to keep from making a sound.