Checking my watch, I note that it's getting close to 8 pm, I would have to go and relieve the sitter soon. Considering the fact that I'd ousted most of our family, we were forced to go a different route as far as a babysitter for our children—a young girl, around 16, from the magical applicants for the school. The man who managed the cattle side of our land had a gifted daughter; she'd seemed innocent enough as someone who could manage my two feral children. 

Sweet, southern, and attentive, I imagined her father hoped getting close to us would secure her a spot. 

Frankly, I was shocked he'd allow her to be in our home, considering what he'd seen as long as he'd worked for us. While Verando paid him a startling amount for his willingness to sign an NDA and work the farm aspect of our home, he'd seen enough to know we weren't far off from the claims circulating through the news.

My eyes track the damage; I slump back to the floor beside the tub, placing my hand in Verando's hair as I stroke absently. He smells foreign, a glimpse at the scent he often described as 'burning atmosphere.' Pulling my lips into a thin line, I scan over him briefly; his body appears intact despite the state of his clothes. 

My thumb drags slowly over his cheekbone, assuring myself that the darkness around his eyes is dirt and grit instead of a permanent fixture.

 To my relief, most of it comes off on the digit, making me question where he'd been all over again. While I was grateful for the security that came with his position, I almost preferred the various states of healing his lycan self would present. This new body was more secretive, harder, and less destructible. 

How much had occurred that he'd never dare tell me about? 

Cursing under my breath, I lean against the rim of the tub, shutting my eyes with a heavy sigh of defeat. Another goddess, he'd purposefully covered her eyes, and he was hiding his identity. Most of all, he was supposed to be in Washington with Tiberius and the band—my mind races with the vast array of possible circumstances. 

Glancing at my phone, I checked and confirmed that the tour was still on without mentioning his absence. Absently, I stroked his jaw once more, lost in the texture of his stubbled chin. I mourned the warmth his body used to provide; he was too still, too cold, and too silent. 

 Hathor could only do so much, and we needed to slip out while she was distracting. 

Yet, the thought of getting up felt almost impossible. It was as if my feet were anchored to the ground; the wind had been completely knocked from my sails. 

Why did she have to say anything? I was so... content.. with my ignorance. 

I wasn't pregnant, and we had very few opportunities to make good on our side of the bargain, yet the notion of trying again was beginning to weigh uncomfortably on my subconscious. I loved my warlord desperately; how selfish could I be to dwell on such a minor detail in such a situation?

Pinching the bridge of my nose, I can't help but shake my head at the thought.  We were defying nature, going against our design as men, yet why did I want this so badly? 

Why couldn't I let this go?

I want to cry, to be angry, to ask myself why the most fertile man to walk this earth didn't manage to put me with child. But the audacity of such a thought makes me laugh at my selfishness. 

While I wallow, I listen to the distant chatter; the good people of this event were driven to help Hathor find clothes; it seemed she was playing the role of the goddess dropped from the sky with no memory. We lived in such a world that a goddess appearing from a restroom was the least strange thing this week. 

The game had been changed, the tides turned, and nothing was too extreme for our new ordinary. 

How did Verando manage to bond with people wherever he went? 

"You have so much explaining to do," I murmur, admiring the tangled tufts still dusted with sand. I skirt over the hood's material, placing my hand within its depths, which causes it to disappear entirely. 

"An enchanted hood," I repeat, cringing at the recoil the hood threatened me with.

Most of all, I can sense the vacancy. The previous user was either no longer associated with the object or was deceased, which posed a new layer of questions and concluded some of my suspicions. 

"Fenrir." I keep my voice low and firm, staring off in quiet acceptance that I must swallow my disdain for the creature. "I know you're conscious. Come to the surface."

As quickly as I can finish the sentence, he sits up, reanimated. 

Verando's icy blue eyes were fogged over in black, rimmed in darkness. I shudder at the image but refuse to show my discomfort; even without the chain, there wasn't much that Fenrir could do to me. 

Rosu growls in the back of my mind, as unhappy with the arrangement as I am. With the piercings and the brand, as long as I didn't give him reason to lash out, he would remain contained. 

Weak, his body was still coated in a thin layer of sweat, and his chest threatened to heave. Death did have a limit, and I was pushing that by demanding consciousness. While briefly considering carrying him, I doubted I'd be able to without drawing too much suspicion. 

"Well, it seems like you've been enjoying our absence. At a party? How appropriate." Fenrir mused, running his tongue over his teeth as if the audacity of my actions were some delicious morsel. 

I wouldn't acknowledge such an outlandish accusal. Setting my jaw, I refuse to allow even the slightest deviation from my politician's face. "I need you to get up; we've got to go home while Hathor still poses as a distraction." I stand as I dust myself off again. "Verando is otherwise incapacitated, so it looks like you'll have to drive this vessel. Do you think you can handle that?" 

Fenrir stands, shifting and rolling his shoulders, cracking and popping as if testing this new and improved body. I would never get used to the difference in their demeanor or the foreign way a wolf that'd never been mortal controls a human body. "Asking for my help? I didn't think I'd ever see the day." He muses.

Grabbing a towel, I shove it roughly into his chest, snarling as his body looms over mine. His hand rests on the wall, blocking my path from the door. Like electricity, his body only inches from mine, I can feel the tepid temperature of the lycan side attempting to fight it's way through the marble skin of Death. 

I resist the urge to touch him, lifting my hands to keep us apart but now allowing my fingers to grace his skin, if nothing else than to sooth what I could only imagine was Alpha, trapped under the surface.

This body that I'd missed so much over the last month. This body belonged to me, yet it was possessed by a monster. 

"I think you could be a little nicer than that. What would happen if I waltzed out into the open and caused a scene? How would that look for your family? For the press?" He questions, cocking his head to catch my eyes as I turn away, only to flinch as he grips my jaw, forcing my gaze to meet his own.

"You can go fuck yourself." I spit; creasing his mouth with a frown as he reaches for the door. Forcing myself between him and the exit, I flash my teeth, earning a chuckle from the creature lurking within my husband. 

 Hiding the handle behind my back, I glanced down at my watch. "Fenrir, I need your help. I'm asking for your help. Isn't that good enough?"

His fingers move stiffly, releasing me as they stroke against my cheek, brushing some of my hair back out of my face as he traces his tongue over one of the prominent fangs once more. It reminded me too much of when Shellshock destroyed me from the inside out; to have Verando before me, possessed, was a mental battle to keep from lashing out. 

Much as I desperately want to lean into that hand.

"I struggle to understand you. Even when I look like this?" Grabbing my hand, he presses it to his chest, spreading my fingers over that vacant space where his heart should be. "Is this because I killed Caspian? Tortured your family? Haven't you done worse? Why is it that when I appear as the object of your affection, you still loathe me, yet you don't loathe this vessel that's spilled that same blood?" 

I retracted my hand as quickly as it could touch him; he was burning up, meaning Alpha had to be lurking. A silent reassurance that I still owned his lycan side, that even if he wouldn't help Darius, Alpha would remain loyal to me. 

Why now? Why did he care? "Look, Fenrir. We have to leave immediately. I'll talk to you in the car, but right now, we must go."

Fenrir grips my wrist, and I nearly yelp in response as he yanks me to his body, colliding against the stone-like form with an abrupt smack. The impact practically knocks the wind out of me, I grunt as I twist against his iron grasp, making my wrist twinge in discomfort at how firmly he holds me. 

"Must you always be a mannerless brat? How this vessel puts up with you is beyond my comprehension. I'm trying to be kind. Could you not show gratitude?"

Gratitude?

I suppose this was Fenrir being kind; perhaps this was the only peace offering he knew how to give. 

Rosu whines in the back of my mind. Be submissive; if Alpha senses we need help, there's going to be an internal brawl, and we don't have time for that.

"I just... really... want to leave," I manage, humbling myself down to the meekest voice I could allow. Averting my eyes, it sickens me to submit to this creature, just as it sickens my wolf to its core. "Please. Can we go home?"

His hand encircles my throat, using his thumb and forefinger to grip under my jaw and direct my gaze back to those blackened eyes. Every time that hand grasps me, it sends another jolt to my subconscious, and it takes everything in me to hide how it terrifies me. "That's better." The praise makes my stomach flip. 

"You saved us when I thought nobody would come, you continue to answer the call. I will do you this kindness."

Shoving me away, I inhale sharply as the air returns to my lungs, resisting the urge to retaliate. Gripping his arm, it's everything I can do to stop him from barging out the door. "Your eyes. I know you can do it; you must return them to Verando's natural color. I'd like to leave here without being seen, but this isn't helping."

Growling, he directs his attention to the mirror; a shudder runs through his body as they lighten, though he can only push them so far. At least the whites were no longer black, though the blue left much to be desired. "Content? Any other requests?"  His voice drips with sarcasm; the only thing I could think to ask for wouldn't be granted. 

I wrapped the towel over his shoulders. The pants were ruined but mostly held various scrapes and tattered places, unlike the shirt, which was literally in rags. "Make eye contact with no one."

Peering out of the bathroom door, I note that the party mostly consisted of people crowding around Hathor or chattering about the odds of such an event occurring. I don't bother shutting the door, placing my hands on the man's back to escort him cautiously but quickly toward the front door. 

While I felt the gaze of the occasional patron, I assumed most people were used to seeing me with my husband, and it wasn't unusual for the 'average' human not to wish to converse with us when we were together. Though I'd come here alone, as long as I didn't speak with the host, I should be in the clear. 

Briefly hearing someone mention my name, perhaps in passing or to call after me, I couldn't tell. I push him out the front door and guide him quickly to the car, shoving him in the passenger seat and slamming the door as I feel a hand on my shoulder. Quickly, I wheel around, realizing it's the man I'd spoken to earlier about the cars. 

"Ah.. Mr.Mercer, wasn't that your.. er.. well.. Mr.Mercer?" Mullins insists. "Has he been here this entire time? Why didn't you say so?"

"No." I lie quickly, pulling in my composure. I exhale as I adjust the cuffs on my button-up, quickly stepping to block his view as he tilts his head to look past me. 

"Looked an awful lot like him.. If he was with you why didn't he just tell me about his car himself? I'm sure he might know a bit more about it-"

"That's because he's not, you are mistaken." I retort shortly, causing him to pull his lips into a thin line of disapproval. 

It was something I wasn't used to and had confronted me in this industry in a way I hadn't been expecting. It wasn't unusual for people to assume Verando was the 'car guy'. Everyone thought my husband was the one who could go on and on about the ins and outs of engines, who had a passion for bringing back the sports car, and who enjoyed these topics that, in reality, made his skin crawl.

Verando liked to drive fast cars, but wouldn't they be speechless to know the infamous Alpha didn't even like to change his own tire? That the man hardly liked to even visit the shop because of the dirty nature of the job?

Resting his hands on his hips as if scolding a child, Mullins sits back on his heels and chews on what to make of me. "Now, we were just talkin' about some expensive investments. How am I supposed to trust someone who would lie to me about something so simple? I'm not tryin' to out a celebrity; I was attempting to get in a quick word on his opinion on-" 

My blood boils, anger surging through me at this man's entitlement. "Maybe I don't want-"

The window rolls down, and I see the impersonator has managed to find some sunglasses as he leans out the window and rests his arm on the ledge. "What's the hold-up?"

"Ah. Mr.Mercer, I thought that was you." Mullins cocks an eyebrow at me pointedly before attempting to step around me, only to hesitate as I hear the click of the hammer being pulled on a gun. I don't have to guess that it's the revolver hidden under the passenger seat, cursing under my breath as I run a hand through my hair in frustration. 

"Rude," the gray-haired man tells him shortly, causing the rounded Mullins to stagger back and raise his hands quickly. 

"A gun?! You done lost your damned mind!"

My husband look alike shrugs, "Debateable. Also somewhat rude- hey, apologize to him. He didn't want to talk to you, and neither of us did. We're trying to go home, so you know. Make a bloody appointment. Who do you think you are coming up to a man's car in the middle of the night?"

"Coming up to a man's car? Ain't a thought in the world going up to a man's car, considering we're trying to do business!" Mullins snaps, and I hear teeth grind behind me. 

Putting my hands on my hips in acceptance as I stare at the ground in what could be embarrassment, attempting to diffuse the situation is not worth it. "I suggest you stop digging the hole deeper and just.. go." I suggest to the unfortunate man, 

"That's your first mistake. I trust what is mine is safe in this bloody town. Do you know what gets under my skin?" Pulling off the sunglasses, I glimpse the piercing light eyes, caught off guard that my warlord might have found his way to the surface. "That men like you don't think twice. Self-defence is a blurred line in the South, might I just have put a damned bullet in your head to learn you and yours not to overstay your welcome? The man said no, sir."

Considering his options, Mullins glances between us, taking another step back. "Don't act like I was tryin' to force myself on a woman. I wasn't here for anything like that."

"A strange man attempting to confront my husband outside our car, I'd rather be safe than sorry. Apologize, then be on your way, or I'll pick a knee." Aiming the revolver down, I quickly put my hand on his arm, attempting to nonchalantly pry the gun out of his hand with little success. 

"Sorry, Mr.Mercer." Mullins addresses me roughly, "I'll uh.. call ya.. 'bout that appointment." He shakes his head in disbelief, considering storming off but he seems to consider whether that might be met with retaliation as well. 

Verando's eyes follow him up the steps back to the house before he finally unhands the gun, slumping back into his seat with a heavy exhale. "Fuckin' hell..."

"Are you out of your mind?" I spit, quickly rounding the car to climb into the driver's seat; I freeze before my hands touch him. "Are.. are you truly Randy?"

"For fuck's sake Nic.. yes. Fenrir wanted to bloody well eat the damned man; it was all I could do to stop him, and I had to make sure he didn't come any closer. Then I saw him with you, and I couldn't..." Gritting his teeth, he runs a hand through his hair with another sigh, "Nobody talks to you like that. I know you can handle yourself but-"

I lean across the car, grabbing his face in my hands. I meet his gaze with my own as I search those light eyes to assure myself this wasn't another Fenrir trick. 

His expression softens through the exhaustion, "It's alright... it's me. I'm still miffed you'd look this good for anyone but me." I'm rewarded with my favorite look, dimpling his cheek, as I sigh in relief and wrap my arms around his neck. His hand carefully rests on my back, brushing his nose affectionately against mine. 

I skirt my lips over his, knotting one hand in his hair as I contemplate kissing him. "So you think I'm pretty? What the hell was going on-"

A knock on the window makes me pull the gun up from between my legs, and Verando exhales in response, "It's just Hathor."

The goddess waves, dressed in an oversized T-shirt and heavy pajama pants. She holds her hand over her eyes, though she giggles nonetheless. "Can I look now? Are we past this whole secrecy thing, or can I at least get a ride? I have no idea where I am?"