Despite the situation, I was rather impressed at John’s attention to detail. I wondered if he’d conjured it up himself, dabbling a little in the black arts as a hobby as he’d occasionally been wont to do, or if he’d hired a mage like Alex to do it for him. He didn’t like strangers, no matter who they were, but this was a complex ward that demanded a pretty high level of appreciation. I just hoped that it wasn’t impervious to silver. The little dirk was secreted away in my bag, so I pulled it off my shoulders and unzipped it, hand curling round the hilt. I tugged on it to take it out, but it seemed to be caught on something, one of the seams of fabric perhaps. I tugged harder and was about to yank it free when a shadow suddenly fell across the desk and I heard Corrigan’s furious voice.

“Just what the fuck are you doing now?”

Chapter Twenty Two

I sent an internal prayer of gratitude to myself that I’d not yet pulled the dirk free. Holding silver would be something that even the ridiculous lies I’d so far managed to fashion for His Great Lord Shiftiness couldn’t cover. I straightened and blinked at him, a picture of innocence. If all else fails, then try the truth, I mentally shrugged.

“What does it look like I’m doing, my lord? I am trying to find a way to open this drawer.”

I couldn’t fathom what the expression on his face was saying. His green gold eyes bored into my soul and I felt a small shiver run through me. “And why exactly would you be doing that?”

“Well, it’s obvious isn’t?” I answered brusquely. “The fact that we keep being targeted for attack must mean that we have something that the blue woman wants.” I certainly wasn’t prepared to give up Iabartu’s name to him just yet. “This is the only place that I can think of that is locked and where there might be something that John would have hidden away. If we can find it, then we might have a better chance of understanding what is happening and stopping it.”

“An interesting conclusion, kitten,” he murmured. Oh, great. We were back to endearments again. I just barely managed to keep from rolling my eyes before he continued. “And why,” he said silkily, “didn’t you think to mention this drawer to me before?”

“First of all,” I ticked off my fingers, “I couldn’t find you. And I was pretty sure that you’d have your hands full dealing with the death rites. Second of all, if I’m wrong and there’s nothing in here apart from a couple of shifter girlie mags, then I’d look pretty stupid. Third of all, you’ve already made it pretty clear that you don’t trust me. For all I know, you’d try to suggest that I planted whatever was in there myself.”

“I see,” he drawled slowly. “I must beg to differ on one point, however.”

I waited. Amusement glinted in his eyes but I was damned if I was going to ask him what that point was. He still didn’t elaborate further. Oh for fuck’s sake, fine then. “And what would that be?” I finally asked.

He smiled. Was that a flicker of triumph? Bastard. “I think you’ll find, kitten, that I do trust you. And despite the fact that you’re the most annoying, unpredictable and difficult to control shifter I’ve ever come across, you do appear to have useful skills. I’m not sure I trust you enough to stay here in the countryside on your own before you manage to cause complete devastation. But I think that you’ve proven yourself enough for me to tell you that my offer to join me in London still stands.”

Join me. Not the Brethren. Oh God. Was that a deliberate choice of words on his part or did he just the Brethren as an extension of himself anyway? I swallowed and looked up at him. “Even though I might have deliberately engineered falling into a faerie ring so that I could be absent when the keep was attacked?”

“Mmmmm,” he answered non-committedly, “you’re going to have to tell me one day how you really did escape from that.”

I didn’t even know myself how I’d managed to get free, so I didn’t think I’d ever be able to tell him. “I honestly have no idea, my lord,” I answered truthfully. “Perhaps it was just an old ring and didn’t have much power left.”

“Yes, perhaps, kitten, perhaps.” He stretched out his arms and linked his hands behind his head. I was suddenly very aware of the stretch of the dark fabric of his t-shirt against his tanned muscular biceps.

Irritation exploded out of me. “Will you stop fucking calling me that?”

“What?” he taunted, softly, eyes glinting.

“I am not a cat,” I said through gritted teeth. “I am a hamster. And my name is Mack, not kitten.”

“Well then, maybe I should just call you Hammy, instead,” he purred.

My stomach squirmed into knots. He was flirting with me. After everything that had happened, and all he’d already said and threatened me with, he was flirting. Why me? This could not happen. I’d rather face an army of ispolin than this.

“Well then, maybe I’ll call you Pants,” I snapped at him.

He laughed, and opened his mouth to say something else. Oh no, it was high time to put an end to this. “My lord, perhaps you could help to open the drawer.” And get your fingers frozen off instead of mine, I thought silently.

He cocked his head at me, with another glance that I couldn’t quite interpret, before replying with a cocky business-like air, “As my lady wishes.”

I resisted the urge to slap him around the head and stepped out from the desk. He brushed past me, and I had to try very hard not to flinch at the warm hard heat of his body against mine. I quickly moved away to nearer the door so I had a quick exit if I needed it. Humour flashed across his face again, as if he knew exactly what I was thinking. Fuck. Off. If he knew who I really was then he’d snap my neck like a twig and forget all about me in an instant. I just had to keep remembering that.

He bent down to look at the drawer and frowned. “Huh, this a pretty powerful ward.”

He stood up and gazed at me, all serious now. “Did John have magic skills?”

“A few parlour tricks,” I shrugged, glad that we were off the topic of pet names for each other, “nothing like this. Not that I knew of anyway.”

He jerked his head in brief acknowledgement and then crouched down again. His very large hands reached out to the drawer, then he drew back suddenly, as if scorched. Hah! That would teach him.

“Stand back,” he ordered.

I bristled at the command but did as he asked. With a look of intense concentration on his face he pulled back his hand and formed a fist. I wondered if he was seriously going to try to punch his way through it. That would be completely idiotic. He’d rip his hand off for sure. I took another step back, just in case.

His whole body tensed and then, quick as lightning, he slammed his fist forward. There was the sound of breaking, splintering wood, and a flash of blue light. He shook his hand a few times, and I could see that it was red and beginning to swell, but he grinned at me like the cat that got the cream and stepped aside with a flourish. You have got to be kidding me. I walked gingerly round and stared down at the mess of the desk. He’d actually snapped through the ward, and the fabric of the wood itself, leaving a hand sized hole. I gaped at him.

He laughed. “Impressed much, kitten?”

I became aware that my mouth was hanging open so I snapped it shut and glared at him, trying vainly not to appear over-awed. Shit, clearly there was a good reason why he’d been voted in as the new head Alpha.

“Big deal,” I said, with far more nonchalance than I was feeling. I stuck my hand into the destroyed drawer and felt around, noting the remaining bristle of magic tremble against my touch. There was nothing there apart from what felt like a paper folder. I tugged at it, trying to yank it out, and cursed when it wouldn’t fit through the gap.

Impatient, I knelt down and pulled out the drawer, lifting out the folder. It was unmarked. I raised my eyebrows at Corrigan and showed him it, then lifted the flap. At that point, the study door was flung open and Staines and Alex came through.

“What in god’s name was that?” Staines shouted.

Wow. Talk about being annoyed at missing the party, I thought.

Alex chipped in. “Jeez, I think the whole keep felt that tremor. What did you do? Break through a…” He stopped and stared at the desk. “You destroyed a level five ward?” He looked at me for a second but I shook my head and pointed over at Corrigan. I supposed that at least I wasn’t only the one who was seriously impressed at his power.

Concern flitted over Staines’ face. “My Lord Alpha, your hand.”

I realised that Corrigan was still clutching his hand and felt a sort of grim satisfaction that at the very least he’d slightly hurt himself.

He, however, just growled, “It’s fine.”

Staines pulled out a sleek looking phone and began to jab at the numbers. “I’ll call the doctor.”

“No.” Steel laced Corrigan’s voice. “He has better things to be doing right now. Besides, I confess to a sudden curiosity at what the Cornish alpha was so keen to hide.” He jerked at the folder in my hands.

I looked down and went instantly rigid when I saw what the visible half of the front sheet displayed. It was my name. Oh fuck. Blood drained from my face. I snapped it shut and just stared at Corrigan. “Er…..” He could NOT read this.

Alex suddenly flinched dramatically. “Something’s approaching the front.”

Corrigan’s whole body stilled. “Shifter?”

“I…uh…can’t tell.”

Staines growled and turned smartly out of the study. Corrigan looked at me, eyes narrowed. “You will wait here.” The bastard was trying to compel me. So much for trusting me.

I tried to smile graciously and inclined my head. “My Lord.”

He stalked out the door. I turned to Alex and breathed again. “Oh my God. We need to hide this, Alex, now. They’ll be back as soon as they realise no-one is there.”