One way or another, he was getting himself back into Reagan's life, whether she wanted him there or not.
Where Reagan Sinclair was concerned, he'd come to learn the importance of a plan. Which was why after hours of thinking he'd come up with a new way to handle her.
His decision was final.
He'd act, doing what needed to be done, taking her anger as she dished it. He'd make these decisions and face the consequences for them from her later. Because, certainly, there would be consequences.
I'll take anything she gives me.
Which was why, barely an hour before sunrise, he teleported into her bedroom.
She laid beneath her covers; nose scrunched up even as she slept. Through the darkness of the room, his gaze fell on the tightness with which she held her pillow.
Act now, face the consequences later—
He slipped his shoes off and pulled her duvet back, slipping into the bed beside her.
When his arm fell across her body and pulled her taut against his chest, a cold frosted over her skin. She froze, waking. A second of silence ticked by. He knew she'd be assessing the brawny forearm across her body, recognising his scent through her hazy sleep-filled mind and putting it all on him.
Slowly, ever so slowly, it was all dawning on her. "What. Are. You. Doing?"
Face the consequences later—
"I'm going to sleep."
"Go sleep in your own bed."
"Yours is better than mine." He snuggled closer into her warmth. "I'm sleeping here."
"No—you—don't—" She tried to push him off the bed. He viced her arms to her sides, tucking her in a hug-like position.
At her ear, he murmured, "It's time to talk strategy."
"You're not supposed to—"
He cut her off, rumbling, "I want you Reagan."
And she knew better than anyone that when he wanted something, no amount of time waiting would dissuade him.
"Huh," She bit back. "Then I'm like your throne. Forever unattainable."
He caught her earlobe between his teeth and nibbled. "Yet I constantly come close to having it."
"You constantly come close to letting me die too," She barked, laying still, resigned to her fate. "I stand by it. Dead. To. Me."
"Can't stand by it if you're laying down."
She groaned, prying his arms away to sit up. He, of course, followed her up.
To sleep, she'd wore a slinky tank top. Through it, he spotted the hard peaks of her nipples before she gave him her back.
He scraped the strawberry blonde hair away from her nape, dropping it over her shoulder to plant his mouth on her neck and trail fluttery kisses along her back.
Those kisses didn't last long.
She turned abruptly, pinning him to the bed.
Straddling me.
He liked this position. Liked the hardness of her nipples. The way her shorts rode up her ass. The way she leered down over him. The way the pretty core he dreamed of was planted directly above his cock.
"My emotions aren't something for you to play with, General."
So she admitted he made her feel things.
Not intentionally. She wouldn't willingly give him something to hold onto.
"I'm not playing." He watched her lips move with rapt attention.
"Good, because I came here for one thing and one thing only." Like a good boy, he didn't move beneath her, even though he wanted to. With her lovely legs either side of him like this, his cock was hard. He'd quite happily thrust up, letting her get a feel of his lust. But he had to play this smart here. Lest Reagan play shotput with his bollocks... "I'm not here to rekindle anything I may or may not have had with you." So careful with her words. She wouldn't admit there'd been something between them if it killed her. "So don't bother trying. You'd only be wasting your time."
"You're lucky I have all the time in the world to waste."
"Ha! At the end of the day, you care more about yourself than you'll ever care about anybody else."
She rolled off him, rising from the bed, crossing towards the bathroom.
Her shorts were still riding high, her tank top rolled up enough to reveal the small of her back.
That ass will fucking haunt me.
He repositioned himself, pressing his back to the headboard. In the next breath, he readjusted his cock beneath his jeans.
"Hell must have given you that ass. Heaven wouldn't know how to torture me."
She threw him the bird over her shoulder.
"You're too desperate to be alone," He said, changing tactics ever so slightly.
She made no effort to deny it.
A knock came from the door, ruining yet another moment between them.
The worrying part wasn't the knock, rather the voice. More specifically what it said.
"General Killian?"
This wasn't Killian's room. These were 'Azrael's' quarters.
Reagan shot him wide eyes. Crossing over to the bed, she punched him in the chest, hissing, "Fix this."
Squeezing her hands, he stole a peck to her lips then headed for the door as she scurried out of sight.
The Squire stood on the other side peering up at the General in confusion.
"General Killian, what are you doing in General Azrael's room?"
"Discussing strategy." He heard her scoff from the bathroom. To the Squire, he said, "You should mind your own business."
"My Mistress Annaliese would like you and Azrael to attend a meeting."
Of course she did.
"When?"
"Now," The Squire answered, shuffling on his feet.
Fuck.
He slammed the door in the witch's face.
Like him, Reagan was pissed. Outside of those curtains was daylight.
She was dressed in her men's clothing now, ready to put on the act. But Annaliese was pushing her luck. They both knew it. The vampires were nocturnal.
Daylight in Veneficus was scorching and bright.
"Don't walk with me," She said, pushing out of her bedroom, her male guise in place. "You can walk behind me."
Reagan was determined to make this difficult.
They walked in silence to the war rooms. No words were exchanged between them upon their arrival. They simply slipped into the room and took their seats.
"Your majesty," Reagan greeted. She'd been expecting a meeting sooner or later since they'd only just brought the werewolf back the day before. But damn it, would it have killed Annaliese to wait until after they'd slept? Always doing what she wants when she wants. Because who gave a shit about everyone else?
Hatred seared through Reagan's veins more than blood did.
She glanced towards the shuttered windows.
She should be sleeping the sunlight away right now, but no, instead she was stuck here attending to Annaliese's every passing whim.
"Annaliese," Killian said briskly. Every time he made progress with his mate, someone just had to come along and ruin it. "Any reason for this sunshine calling, or have you finally lost your shit and decided you want us all to burn?"
The blood Queen gave him a cold, unimpressed look. "Sit down Killian. The day I let you burn, I'll start with your blood."
"Noted."
He slumped into his seat at the table, mood worsening by the second.
The table was long and rectangular with the Queen's much taller chair at the head of the table because fuck democracy. Annaliese wasn't on the same level as anyone. That blood bitch was untouchable.
Just like her Father.
Nazreen sat beside her, head ducked, gaze on her lap.
For blood relatives, she and Killian couldn't be more dissimilar.
Reagan noted she looked like her Mother, only her Mother had more spunk about her.
Saying that, if she'd been raised in Annaliese's shadow...
Seth was the last to enter, smirking as he took in the disgruntled vampires. He fell to the seat at Annaliese's other side, across from Nazreen.
With that, the blood Queen got down to business, clasping her hands together.
"Sorry I'm late," Seth said, not sounding the remotest bit sorry. Because these were hours his body would naturally be up for. "I got caught up in the Common World. There was this gaggle of nymphs and- well, I'm sure you can guess what happened. Your boy got laid." With one hand, he made a circle. With his other hand, he stuck a finger inside of it, pumping it in and out. "You wouldn't believe the things those little hookers can do with their tongues. There goes my virginal anus. I'm a changed man now Annie."
"Thank you, Seth."
"None doing Annie."
"Let's get this thing started then, shall we?" He grinned, making himself comfortable. "The floor's all yours."
"Have the blasters been installed?"
The disaster of the cells had finally made its way back to the Queen.
Reagan took in the dark circles beneath the woman's eyes, her mood brightening the slightest bit.
Feel the pain everyone else feels bitch.
Anything that stressed Annaliese out was welcome to her.
"It's happening as we speak," Seth responded. "Ready for your perusal. The guards have doped your werewolf up on the silver gas stuff. I suppose it's easier to get the job done without a supernatural Doberman biting at your ball sack."
Killian relaxed some at that. He'd been more stressed than any of them about having Chronos in the castle. All things considered, there were things here he didn't want injured.
"How long do you plan to keep him here?" Killian asked, sitting straighter.
I don't like the feral werewolf being under the same roof as her.
She could say he didn't care all she wanted, but the proof was in the pudding.
"Until his King responds."
"Here's what I don't understand. Why go to all of this trouble for one witch? You lost seventeen of them yesterday. Is one witch really that important? You don't even know that the werewolf King will respond. If he's a King with any self-respect, he's not going to bend over backwards because you've started manipulating him. Until he does—assuming he does—what do we do till then? Stand back and let everyone die?"
Seth and Annaliese shared a look.
"Killian, if you wish to keep your head, watch the way you speak," Annaliese remarked. "Evette is an asset to this Kingdom and an ally. Her life is worth more than ten of yours. So, would you like to repeat that question?"
"Alright," He said. "I'll play ball. Barely a week ago, you sent us- your little lapdogs- to that damned lodge in the woods to bring the witch back."
He hated the way his mate was actively included in these plans. It grated on him that he couldn't stop it. Even if Annaliese let him have a say, Reagan made it perfectly clear she wouldn't listen.
"And you failed."
He suppressed a hiss. "That werewolf King you're messing with isn't just another dog. He's not another witch waiting to bow and beg for your praise. He knows what he's doing. He's powerful. For fuck's sake, he's trained for this shit. The wolf was maddened. Do you understand what that means? I'll bet you anything the werewolf you've got holed up in your cells has the same fighting skills. The apple never falls far from the tree with these ones. Wasn't yesterday evidence enough?"
Not letting the dogs anywhere near her.
Reagan would make protecting her difficult for him too.
"I understand perfectly," Annaliese deadpanned. "But he's still a dog, just like all the rest of them. Do you know much about dogs, Killian?"
"I know enough."
"Then you probably know that all dogs can be trained with the right touch in the right places."
"You can't teach an old dog new tricks."
"But you can put them in a collar and try to domesticate them. Which reminds me- Seth?"
The tracker reached into his pocket, grabbing a studded, leather collar.
"It comes with a price guarantee," Seth said, handing it over. Annaliese held it lithely. "Got it from a demon. His digs have got a five-star rating. The reviews look good enough. These bad boys are used in demon rituals. Look on the inside."
"There's a zip."
"Yep. And do you know what's under that zip?"
Annaliese pulled the zip lining the inside back a little, a haunting smirk spreading over her face.
The leather was just a cover. Inside, the collar was made from metal.
Reagan shuffled to get a look, disapproving. She'd done bad things before, only Annaliese took them to the next level. She had her bait. She didn't need to torture the werewolf in the process.
"Silver?" The Queen asked.
"110%."
Gleefully- with a face void of emotion- the Queen set it aside.
"Something else you should probably know," Seth said, speaking carefully now. "As of half an hour ago, I've been able to track her."
"You can track Evette?" There was a hopefulness in Annaliese's voice that had Reagan's mood deflating once again. Annaliese always got what she wanted. Eventually, I'll take it all away from her.
"I can. Whatever magic she's been using to hide herself is gone. I can track her."
"Then find her," The Queen said. "Go to wherever she is. Take Azrael with you."
Beneath the table, Killian flexed his fingers. Here the bitch went again, putting his mate in danger he couldn't whisk her away from.
He maintained focus on her to calm himself down.
Pointedly, Reagan avoided looking at him.
Annaliese would be playing this smart and selfish. Reagan/ Azrael could teleport without a portal jumper. Assuming the werewolf King would be at wherever he landed, Seth would need his energy. Portal jumpers had a way of draining it, but not nearly as much as natural teleportation on the user. Facing the werewolf King, Seth would need all the energy he could get.
If she doesn't come back, I'll kill them all.
"Make sure the King knows where his brother is," Annaliese added. "And make sure Evette knows we want her back."
"On it."
Stiffly, Reagan rose to follow him. Still avoiding my gaze. She knew what he was thinking. Of course she did.
"Killian- out," Annaliese instructed when they'd left. His longing gaze didn't leave the door his mate had left through. "I want to speak to my Goddaughter now."
Baring his teeth, he hissed but did as told. Even as it grated at his nerves. She'll get what's coming for her. Annaliese would fall eventually. Teleporting, he disappeared from the room.