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  “You okay, man?” Jacob asked.

  Jolted out of his thoughts, he turned to his companion. “Oui, mon ami.”

  “We’re about to land.” The young man clicked his seatbelt on. “I can’t believe we’ll be landing in New York in a couple of minutes. Man, I’m going to miss living like this.” His hands gripped the soft, buttery leather of his seat.

  Sebastian Creed himself had sent his private plane to pick them up, saving them the trouble of several connecting flights seeing as Zhobghadi had no international airport. No expense had been spared on the interior of the plane, nor with the service and food. This was only the second time he’d flown private and probably the last. “Should have had one more glass of champagne,” he joked.

  Landing was smooth, and immigration formalities at the private airstrip in New Jersey where they landed had been conducted on-board as the plane sat on the tarmac. Gathering up his duffel bag, he followed Jacob out of the plane. As he descended down the steps, his gaze immediately went to the man standing next to the dark SUV, his arms crossed over his chest, obviously waiting for them. He was a couple inches taller than Delacroix and wore an expensive, well-fitting dark suit. Delacroix tried not to show any emotion as their eyes met, but it was hard not to bristle when confronted with those ice blue eyes that seem to bore into him.

  “Welcome back.” Nick Vrost unfolded his arms. “Glad to see you both made it.”

  His frosty gaze lingered on Delacroix, which made him snort loudly. As if he would back out on his word. A bargain was a bargain.

  “Thanks for coming to greet us, Al Doilea,” Jacob said, using the honorific Lycans used for their Beta.

  “Of course, though you might be disappointed to know I’m taking you straight to HQ. Your mother, in particular, was not happy you wouldn’t be coming home right away.”

  Jacob winced. “I’ll be sure to visit her, er, soon.”

  Delacroix suppressed a laugh. Mrs. Martin had seemed like a nice woman and all, at least from the short video chats where he’d said hello to her, but Jacob felt smothered by his mother’s attentions. “I’m the baby of the family,” he had explained some time ago. “And she can’t seem to accept that I’m a grown man. Parents, you know?”

  Actually, he didn’t, but he didn’t say anything since Jacob hadn’t known anything about his past at the time. Did he want a mother who would smother him with love and attention? At this point in his life, he wasn’t sure.

  Vrost motioned for them to get into the SUV and soon they were driving toward the city. “Are we headed to Fenrir Corp.?” Jacob asked. The Fenrir Corporation building on Madison was not only the headquarters for the massive international conglomerate, but also unofficially, for the New York clan. Fenrir’s CEO, Lucas Anderson, was also their Alpha.

  “Not quite.” Vrost didn’t elaborate, and his gaze covered by the sunglasses he put on. As they approached the city, he couldn’t help but feel wonder as the skyline appeared ahead. While New York was only his temporary home, there was just something about it that was both intimidating and comforting, especially after a year of seeing nothing but sand for miles on end.

  As the SUV emerged from the Lincoln tunnel, the vehicle went south, away from the Fenrir Corp. building and The Enclave, the mini-city on the Upper West Side that served as the home for most of the New York clan. He and Jacob looked at each other, but it was obvious Vrost would offer no other explanation.

  They were soon in the trendy district of Tribeca, and the car turned east, the Brooklyn Bridge clearly ahead of them as they made their way through a maze of smaller side streets.

  Delacroix frowned as they pulled into an alleyway with a dead end. “Where are we—mon Dieu!”

  Jacob, who had been sitting in the back, unbuckled his seatbelt and grabbed the front seat. “Mr. Vrost, what the—”

  Vrost remained cool and calm as he stepped on the gas and the SUV sped up—straight toward the wall.

  “You’re crazy!” Delacroix closed his eyes and braced himself, waiting for the impact—but there was none. “What the fuck?”

  The vehicle screeched to a halt, and when he opened his eyes and saw they were very much unharmed and not flat as pancakes against a brick wall, let out a soft curse. “You didn’t think to warn us first?”

  Cool as a cucumber, Vrost took off his sunglasses, his ice blue eyes filled with what seemed like amusement. “And miss all the fun?” He unbuckled his seatbelt. “Welcome to the secret headquarters of the Guardian Initiative, gentlemen. Secret being the operative word, hence why I couldn’t tell you where we were headed. The wall we went through was one of the many magical enchantments we put in place to hide this place from humans and the mages.”

  As they exited the vehicle, Delacroix looked around. They seemed to be in some kind of indoor garage, the only source of light coming from hanging overhead industrial lights. Vehicles were parked next to the SUV, including several motorcycles, two vans, an armored military vehicle, and even a Winnebago.

  “Where the heck are we?” Jacob asked. “I mean, what part of Manhattan are we? Are we even still in New York?”

  Vrost cocked his head. “Follow me.” He led them toward an elevator in the corner and pressed his palm against the sensor by the door. After a soft whirr and a high-pitched beep, the doors opened. He pointed forward. “After you.”

  They stood in the elevator as Vrost pressed the second to last button on the panel. The elevator ascended, and a few seconds later, the doors opened, and they stepped out. The space looked like a normal office, with desks and computers and people typing away at keyboards in their cubicles. But from the energy in the air, it was obvious there was more to this place than what it seemed.

  “Whoa!” Jacob hurried over to one of the large windows. “We’re in the middle of the water. That’s New York. And Brooklyn’s over there.” He looked at Vrost, his eyes wide. “Are we—”

  “In one of the stone towers of the Brooklyn Bridge, yes.”

  Delacroix followed Jacob, and peered out of the pane. However, there was something strange about this window. He poked a finger at the window. “This isn’t glass.”

  Vrost shook his head. “No, it’s not. When we decided this would be our headquarters, one of the problems we encountered was that the entire structure was solid, which was great for defense, but that meant we couldn’t see what was going on outside. Plus, it made the place pretty gloomy. So, we installed 4K screens that have a direct feed to the outside to mimic windows.”

  “Cool.” Jacob tipped his chin. “So, this place is our war room.”

  “You could say that. This floor is central operations. Above us is the actual war room and command, while we have the training rooms and dorms in the two floors below us.”

  “How did you fit all that in the tower?” Jacob asked.

  “Magic,” Vrost explained. “Daric was able to find a magic spell that could expand the space on the inside. I don’t know how it works, and it cost us a pretty penny, but it was worth it. This place is more secure than Fort Knox. Now, I need to introduce you to some people, though you already know most of them, Jacob.”

  He led them to one of the enclosed offices and opened the door. It was a small, cramped space, filled with PC towers of varying sizes along two sides of the room and a wall of monitors in the middle. There was a single desk in the middle that had a laptop, and a large, beat-up leather chair turned away from them.

  “You’ve reached Acme Proctologists, where we promise you a thoroughly good time. How may I direct your call?”

  Vrost’s gaze slid heavenwards in an exasperating manner and cleared his throat. “Lizzie,” he said in a warning voice.

  “.…no really, sir … that’s right. Would you like to make an appointment?” The chair swiveled around, revealing its occupant—a cute redhead with sparkling blue eyes full of mischief as she spoke into a cell phone. “You don’t have to be shy, sir. All our doctors are gentle.”

  “Lizzie,” Vrost repeated.

/>   The woman—more like a girl, really—bit her lip as she tried to smother a giggle. “No need to take that tone with me, sir. I already deal with assholes all day.”

  “Martin.” Vrost warned.

  Martin? Delacroix turned to Jacob, who only gave him the same exasperated look on Vrost’s face.

  With a delighted cackle, the redhead put the phone down. “Wha—Oh! Al Doilea!” She shot up from her seat, then froze when her gaze landed on Jacob. “And—Oh, my God! Runt, you’re home!” Her face turned from embarrassment to shock to excitement as she launched herself at Jacob, leaping up at him to wrap her arms around his neck.

  “Runt?” Delacroix asked as Jacob tried to untangle the young woman from his body.

  “I—get-off-me-you-crazy-woman! Argh! Stop!”

  “Aww, can’t I express how much I’ve missed my baby brother?” She let go of him, then punched him in the arm. “Nice to see you, runt.”

  Jacob scowled and rubbed his arm. “Don’t call me that. I’m more than a foot taller than you and outweigh you by a hundred pounds.”

  “But you’ll always be the baby of the family.” Her face scrunched up as she pinched his cheeks.

  Vrost cleared his throat. “I’ll leave you all to get acquainted while I round up Wyatt and Mika.”

  “Oh, of course, Mr. Vrost.”

  The Beta gave Delacroix a warning look before turning on his heel and leaving the office. The redhead turned to Delacroix. “I’m Lizzie Martin, head of tech around here, and Jacob’s sister.”

  “So I gathered.” Jacob had mentioned he had two siblings, but didn’t give any more details. He shook the female’s hand. “Marc Delacroix.”

  “I thought that’s who you might be.” Arctic blue eyes peered up at him. “I’ve heard a lot about you.”

  Dressed in a short plaid skirt, a T-shirt with a cartoon alpaca on the front, and knee-high boots, she looked out of place here, but he’d learned long ago not to judge people by their looks. He turned on his megawatt smile automatically, and his eyes darted up and down her curvaceous body. “Funny. Jacob’s never mentioned his sister was so … interestin’.”

  “Keep those eyes at an appropriate level, Delacroix,” Jacob warned. “Unless you want me to pull them out of their sockets.”

  Lizzie rolled her eyes and then pulled something out of her pocket—a lollipop, which she proceeded to unwrap and suck into her mouth. “Please, Jacob. I can take care of myself. You know, the last time a guy tried anything funny, he ended up on the FBI’s Most Wanted list.”

  He took a step closer. “Ah, you are giving me a challenge then?" Her scent was pleasant enough—a sweetness that smelled generic but his Lycan senses detected the wolf in her and a hint of something different, similar to the way Jacob smelled. Probably the same thing that marked him as a hybrid, but it wasn’t enough to rouse his wolf, who, during all this time, remained passive and indifferent to their new surroundings.

  “Oh, you charmer, you!” Mirth made her arctic blue eyes light up. “You don’t want to mess with me. I can make you hurt in different ways.”

  Which of course only piqued his curiosity. “Oh, really?” He reached out to touch a lock of red hair intending to brush it off her shoulder. “I—”

  The low growl that followed made his hackles raise and pull his hand back immediately. Turning to the door, Vrost stood there with another man, who stalked into the room like a predator who’d found his next victim. He was at least half a foot taller than Delacroix, and just as wide, though it was hard to tell with the way he seemed to puff out his chest and shoulders. Green eyes so light they were almost yellow blazed with an icy fury that was directed straight at him. Familiar eyes.

  “Ahem.” Vrost stepped between them. “Delacroix, you’ve met Wyatt before, haven’t you? He’s our operations manager.”

  Wyatt Creed. Queen Desiree’s brother. Ah, that’s why he was familiar; he was practically a younger carbon copy of his father. He’d seen the man twice in Zhobghadi—once during the wedding and another time after Prince Caspar was born—though he had never spoken with him. The middle Creed offspring had a superior air about him that seemed to say he was too good to speak to anyone beneath him, like bodyguards and servants. Which had been a puzzle to say the least, because the rest of the Creed family had been warm and friendly to everyone. He’d found Wyatt to be cold and stuck up, but never confrontational. What could have provoked him?

  Lizzie pulled the lollipop from her mouth. “Can we get on with it, please? I have work to do.”

  As the female turned on her heel and walked back behind her desk, Wyatt’s eyes tracked her movements. Huh. Definitely a piece of information he was going to put away for now.

  “Where’s the boss?” Jacob plopped down on the nearest chair in front of Lizzie’s desk, so Delacroix followed suit and sat beside him. Wyatt didn’t make a move from where he stood by the door, but merely crossed his arms over his chest, his entire body going stiff.

  “Mika’s running late today,” Vrost explained. “But she told me to go ahead and start without her, and she’ll catch up. So, you two, welcome back to New York.”

  Nothing would have pleased Delacroix more than to wipe that smug smile off the Beta’s face. “Glad to be back,” he shot back.

  Vrost seemingly ignored the sarcasm in his tone. “Now that you’re back, we need to get you up to speed as soon as possible. We are at war with the mages, make no mistake. With the defeat of Stefan, the master mage thirty years ago, we assumed that they’d been eradicated. But as we know, they’d only been biding their time, growing their strength and forces, recruiting among witches around the world. In some cases, they’ve taken entire covens, by persuasion or force. Not only that, they’ve been searching for the three artifacts of Magus Aurelius, magical objects that have so much power that they could put the entire world under their control. They have one, the necklace that can control humans, and we have one, the dagger of Magus Aurelius, safely tucked away in a secret location, but they’re doing everything in their power to steal ours.

  “The Alpha has refused to stay passive, and we’ve hunted down every mage coven we could find, but it’s like the more we take down, more spring up somewhere else. Between trying to find the last artifact, protecting ourselves and the dagger, and hunting down the mages, our forces are spread too thin. That’s why we’ve recalled you two.” His icy blue gaze, however, focused on Delacroix. “We need all hands on deck if we’re going to end this war soon. Your abilities and your training with the Almoravid will be invaluable to us.”

  An acrid taste built up in his throat. Once again, he and his abilities would be used and abused, made to fight in a war that had nothing to do with him. In leaving the Pont Saint-Louis clan for New York, he was only exchanging one master for another. At least in Zhobghadi, he had been at peace.

  “You look like you have something to say, Delacroix.”

  Vrost’s tone was as chilly as his icy stare, daring him to object. But he couldn’t. The bargain had been made, and the New York clan owned him for the next five years. However, he wouldn’t act like some obedient puppy, begging for its master’s approval.

  “Don’t make much difference to me one way or the other.” He stretched out on the chair languidly, placing his hands behind his head and ankles crossed in front of him.

  “Delacroix’s job at the palace was mostly to sit and look pretty,” Jacob joked. “And cause fights among the queen’s handmaidens.”

  “I’m more of a lover than a fighter.” He wiggled his eyebrows at Lizzie, who ignored him in favor of scrolling on her phone. He felt the hairs on the back of his neck prickle in awareness like someone was staring at him, and he didn’t need to turn his head to know where those particular daggers were coming from.

  “You’ll follow orders, Delacroix,” Vrost said in a warning voice. “If you know what’s good for you.”

  Like he needed it rubbed in his face some more. “I’ll follow your orders, but I don’t have any skin in
this game, so don’t expect me to give more than I have to or give a rat’s ass about this war of yours.”

  “Actually, it’s everyone’s war. The goddamn mages are out to destroy every last Lycan on earth.”

  The voice was low and husky, and his entire body froze as if a giant hand had seized him in an iron grip. When his head swung toward the newcomer entering the room, the first thing he noticed were her eyes. Green, like the color of emeralds but the hardness of diamonds. Long, jet black hair was pulled back in a braid that swung over one shoulder. She was of medium height and slim build, though her white button-down shirt and black trousers didn’t hide the feminine curves underneath.

  And then, something strange happened. Something that, as far as he could remember, had never happened before. His inner wolf perked up, and its attention fixed on her.

  Who was this woman?

  Chapter Two

  Mika Westbrooke hadn’t even opened her eyes that morning when that dark heavy feeling came over her.

  Today wasn’t going to be a good day. Most days were okay, some were good, some were bad, but she knew this particular day would be terrible.

  She had stayed up the night before, willing herself not to sleep as if doing so would stop the inevitable. That somehow, if she never fell asleep, this day wouldn’t come. Exhaustion had come over her, and sleep eventually took over, which meant she had missed her alarm.

  Any other day and she would have cursed and jumped out of bed, scrambling to get ready. But then again, any other day she would have never missed her alarm. As head of the Guardian Initiative, she didn’t have the luxury to dillydally, not when their missions were so critical.