"Delilah, maybe you should sit down." I offer her a plush rolling chair, which she collapses into. The paparazzi outside knock rapidly on the door, desperate to get the story on the unfortunate state of the Senator. 

She's pale, taking in the scene with an amount of theatrics that seems entirely unreasonable, though I have to imagine this is how an average human might react to their loved one becoming an extinct creature. It wasn't a disease; it was a piece of history, and he was lucky enough to be recruited.

 I couldn't help but feel the slightest bit hopeful, a lycan horde could be pretty helpful if it came down to it, and I had a sneaking suspicion that a fight might be inevitable in some capacity. 

"You have no history of lycans in your family? Where do you hail from?" Verando demands, gaining a confused look as the man searches him for meaning in his questions. 

"Hail?"

"Originate. Where is your family from?" His patience wears thin as the man struggles to understand our lingo, making me think about the woman earlier in the night who reminded him no one spoke as we did any longer; I suppose there was more of a language barrier than I had anticipated though I hadn't spoken to many people since my step back from the public eye.

I press my hand against Delilah to encourage her to stay put before I begin my approach. I don't need Marisol to remind me why we work well together. There was a time for the hammer and a time for a gentler approach, and this was one of those. Taking my position between them, flashing Senator Campbell a reassuring glance, I offer my best attempt.

"Answering the questions will help us best understand why this is happening." I attempt to urge him towards cooperation instead of panic. "You and Verando are friends, are you not?" 

"Europe, I think, is where my mother is from? I suppose. I.. really don't know my lineage." He isn't fairing much better than his wife. "Is there no fixing it? Will I become something... else?"

Verando clenches his jaw, glowering at the tile floor as he processes. "It's very strange that it would present so suddenly unless it were dormant. Rhea said that her wolf had 'died,' but we know that's not true, as Marcus shifted eventually?" He's turned his attention to me, wanting my take on the situation. 

I'm not quite ready to share my hopes of an 'awakening', it's too early to judge as there's only one case, but I know from experience that he would not share my enthusiasm. My temple throbs, my head swimming, and I struggle to think through the murk of too much to drink. 

"Well, maybe seeing you woke it up? As it did to Helen, she just had to see Alpha, and it triggered her wolf."

"As in, this thing has been inside me all along?" Jonathan's voice is barely a whisper, horrified by his fate. 

Verando seems to wish I had better tact, but this was the best I could offer him. "I didn't turn him if that's what you're thinking," Verando responds to me shortly. 

"No, but.. you inspired something in Helen, Whitewind did say he wanted you to begin to change people, did he not? You haven't been doing that, so perhaps this is nature taking things into its own hands? Just a theory, at least." 

There's not much we can do here, surrounded by all these people and risking a leak of this information. As much as he looks disgusted by the very thought of nature bringing this on, it had happened, and we knew from experience that there would be no reversing it. 

"Should we take him with us?" I murmur, frowning as the Senator flashes me a horrified look. 

"It'll be too suspicious if we take him. He's a public figure; if he goes rogue, we can't risk this coming back on us. It's bad enough we were just photographed taking him in here."

"Rogue?" Senator Campbell demands. 

"Best you go home for the evening, Johnathan. Avoid the public and stress, get some rest, and continue with your usual treatment for the headache. If the wolf were going to appear, it would have done so by now. We can't risk being seen together right now, as I'm sure you know, lycans are illegal. The press is going to have a field day with this as it is, Nic and I will stay behind as damage control." 

He opens his mouth to argue but slowly closes it as Verando helps him to his feet. 

Clearing my throat, I shake Senator Campbell's hand. "We will be in touch to get this sorted. Can I give you my phone number so you can reach us if something goes wrong?" 

Reluctantly, he nods. 

The poor man looks to be in shock as I hurriedly type my name and number into his phone and hand it back to him. The device that has caused me so much grief in learning its uses is now a vital asset to this world that has grown so vast. 

Taking a deep breath, I straighten out my jacket and take charge as I direct the paparazzi away and allow him to make a quick escape. Pulling Verando to my side, we offer plenty of entertainment as an openly gay couple in such a venue. 

The flashing lights of the cameras and the continuous clicks drown out the footsteps of our departing companions, making it hard even to hear the flurry of questions that rain down on us as if our personal lives were any of their business. While I expected it to be taboo, they seemed more interested in knowing why we were hiding it than why we were together.

 All I could tell them was that we are quite often not together, and I allow them to make their assumptions. I can only hope we gave Senator Campbell enough time to get away without too much interference. 

As soon as we can steal away, we head to dinner in an attempt to sober me, yet I'm already feeling more myself. I feel better with some food and appreciate the gentle lighting that seems to dim as the evening progresses, setting the mood as people become more intoxicated and casually swaying bodies begin to fill the dance floor. 

The event is rather impressive, now that I've allowed myself to enjoy it, as people have donated many items in hopes of earning the money to bring their beloved 'Mistress' to the States. 

 Verando sips quietly on his wine, and I sneak a small smile. 

Have we had many public dinners together in such a manner? Where people can openly assume we might be together as opposed to just friends?

"You know you can't handle your alcohol." I remind him. "This is your third glass?"

"Second. That was quite impressive, the way you dissipated that group and took control of Johnathan, considering you're drunk off your ass. I do believe we have been given the incorrect jobs." 

I cringe, had we? Sensing my upset, he sets the glass down. 

"You know what I mean, you're doing a fine job, darling."

But I wasn't. 

I was getting by, thinking that what the world truly needed was a reminder of how to function as a unit; this venue was where I thrived, and if I was honest with myself, this was where I was happiest.

 I loved doing things for people, but I didn't enjoy being the one to make all the decisions all the time. 

I was either making the wrong ones or making none at all when viewed from a leadership perspective. 

"I feel like I'm barely staying above water." I sigh, settling back into my chair as I pick at the remains of my soup with my spoon. "The tasks are simple enough, but there's so much preparation that goes into every little move, I am always missing something, I just can't get it right the first try."

Verando chuckles lightly, dimpling his cheek. "Then you're doing a fine job. I'm afraid that's quite how it is. We're never totally in control of our situation; the best you can do is prepare for it to fall apart because it will the moment you leave. You're young; I wasn't nearly as perceptive at your age."

I wrinkle my nose at him, unable to decide between offense and affection, reminded of his age again. "Mmm... you're the youngest man amongst our captors, save for me and Tyler. You might just be losing your appeal."

"What a novelty. Are you beginning to fancy Tonic?" He retorts, chewing thoughtfully on a bite of steak, though he looks like he'd have preferred it uncooked. My expression confirms my disdain for the thought of being in a relationship with someone who was relatively useless during the most critical battles of our lives. 

This whole day had been a mess, and I was ready to go back home and drink myself into a stupor. I'd already embarrassed him and myself, while I was enjoying our time here, the reminder of what we'd lost weighed heavily on me. 

"Thank you for coming with me; I'm afraid I'm not much for this business. You always manage to make things interesting, to put it mildly. I wouldn't have fared well tonight without you here. "

His gratitude catches me off guard, and while I consider saying something snarky, I allow for a nod. "Anytime." 

I started this morning unsure if I wanted to pursue a relationship with him, but now, being here with him for this evening has rekindled what I'd been missing for these long months. This whole night, he had been at arm's length, save for the moment of weakness in the bathroom. 

This must have been why I was avoiding him; I knew deep down that if I saw him again, I wouldn't be able to stay away.

"Verando...I know you said that the hardest part for you was letting me leave, but.. what if.. tonight-" 

"Dance with me." Verando stands quickly, coming to take my hand, and before I know it, he's pulling me out into the crowd, demanding I dance with him. No doubt an attempt to keep from talking about this, to enjoy his time with me without the heaviness of our unsolved issues. 

 Dancing is something I'm pretty good at, good enough to impress Filippa.  The instrumental music serenades quietly in the background as we claim our small space amongst the prestigious crowd. As he spins me around, it's hard to keep the smirk off my face. 

It's not often I'm met with a partner who challenges me for the lead, and I amuse myself with the quiet battle between us.

 We expand out into the ample space, and I genuinely enjoy myself. For the first time in what feels like months, I'm happy. The song ends, pulled against his body; I can't recall if I've ever danced with him before. His fingers entangle with mine, one arm around my waist. 

I inhale his intoxicating scent, leaning my cheek against his chest.

We had wanted this for so long, him more than me. To be public, to have people witness, he looks at me as if there isn't anyone else, and I can't help but return it. I realize, all over again, how much I love him. 

The inviting warmth consumes me as I adjust one of the buttons on his jacket. 

"Are you trying to distract me? Because it's working." I murmur as I reach up to kiss him, and as my lips brush his, I catch sight of familiar red hair. "Did you see that person?" I ask, settling back onto my heels. 

"I'm not doing a very good job if you're catching glimpses of other men." He retorts, bending down to catch my chin and my mouth. I sigh, leaning into him as he pulls me closer. However, the sentient Nicolas won't let my libido get the better of me. 

I break free from his lips to glance around him and search for the fiery hair I had just spotted, only to feel the tickle of his stubble on my neck. 

"Can't it wait?" His teeth graze my skin as he places a trail of deliberate kisses towards my ear. "Getting cold feet?"

I want it to, to fall into him and forget that we have a job to do, but I can't, and if he had seen what I had, he wouldn't either. I will the image out of my mind, try and stop it, but it remains as I press my hands against his chest. 

"Five minutes. Then we can continue making bad decisions." As soon as the words leave my mouth, I regret them. 

His expression shifts as I slip out of his grasp and put it back in my mind. I promised myself that I would stop letting this obsession rule my life, and if I were to return to him now, my initial response would have all but been forgotten. 

"Come on." I ignore the lackluster way he follows alongside me as I search the crowd.

Weaving my way through, we exit the dining room and enter the auction floor, where they're working on bidding for the gentlemen who have offered up their presence in exchange for funds for the 'cause.' 

"What're we looking for?"

"Red hair. I could have sworn--" But as my eyes scan, I don't see anyone matching the large expanse of mane that had caught my eye.

"Mr.Mercer!" The announcer calls, and I cringe, giving the man an apologetic glance as he forces a smile. 

"Lovely, I had forgotten I'd agreed to this." His voice is curt through his teeth. 

"I didn't do it on purpose. Go up there with that expression, and no one will bid on you." I retort, turning to face him. "This is good; we need to see who buys this arrangement."

Raising a brow, he makes a face. "So an average person wouldn't want to be with me, is what you're saying?" 

I roll my eyes in typical warlord fashion; it's a wonder I'm still standing. 

"Stop acting like a prude and get over yourself! It was a poor choice of words!" I hiss back, irritated with his childish attitude. 

"Mr.Mercer, we're ready for you." The announcer calls once more, "Sorry, folks, it would seem it's hard to share!"

"Go!" I growl at him, making him narrow his eyes at me. He leaves me, making his way to the stage and mounting the stairs with his best attempt at a pleasant expression. Ultimately, he settles on his usual, slightly irritated yet collected.

 Slipping one hand into his pocket, the announcer waves for him to spin around and demonstrate all he has to offer. Where the others had done so with charismatic enthusiasm, the half-hearted and mostly frustrated turn makes me chuckle despite my frustration. 

Prying my eyes away from him, I start scanning the crowd for my prior target. 

The announcer is generous, listing off various skills that I've realized are not true. The bidding is supposed to be fun, a way for wealthy individuals to donate their money. It's a rather good idea, and I wish I had thought of it in our own time to raise funds for the war. 

My dark and sultry warlord starts strong with a healthy bidding war; it doesn't surprise me, given his accent and mysterious nature. Little did they know he was very little fun, and most of their night would consist of bored stares and crippling honesty. 

"I heard he's single." A woman whispers to her friend beside me. 

I knit my eyebrows together, feeling the need to sabotage any fantasy they might have. "I heard he's gay," I respond shortly, making them both stare at me wide-eyed as I storm off and decide this is a lot less fun than I thought it was going to be. 

It would seem that my plan was falling flat; the only ones bidding were women, and the occasional man who might want the political backing. 

He bends to snag a drink off a waiter's tray passing the raised stage, gathering some laughs as he downs it, and the announcer makes light of the fact that he could be a cheap date. 

A woman raises her hand. 

"45 thousand." She proclaims soundly. In my distraction, I didn't notice her. The room lights up with a buzzing conversation, and I can only assume it's an absurd amount. 

"45 going once!" The man holds up his hammer. "Going twice!"

 Is someone going to do this for a date? 

"Sold! To the Mistress herself. Thank you for participating, Madam." 

Verando's face pales, and I quickly approach the stage, meeting him at the bottom as he steps off. "Wow. I should be nicer to you; you're worth a lot of money." I try my best not to sound bitter. 

"Red." He exhales to me.

"What? Did you see the woman with the red hair?"

"No. Red." The taller man pulls me closer as the red-haired woman approaches us, offering a polite curtsey as she grins. Verando puts himself between us as heat radiates off of him. Alpha wouldn't stand for her to get a single step closer.

"I believe he's talking about me. It's not Red anymore, it's Corina now."

 I feel sick as my eyes meet that horrid woman's face, the woman I hadn't seen since she vanished after our fight with my sister. Her large, feline-esque eyes, freckled nose, the overly tight but conservative green dress, and the mountain of curly, stark red hair. 

It all comes flooding back as my temper begins to boil; she renamed herself after my sister. She is here, in this time, and I'm going to have to kill her.