“No,” he said, pronouncing the word slowly.
“You can’t tell me what to do.”
Curran roared. The blast of noise erupting from his mouth was like thunder. I clenched up, fighting the urge to step back.
“Yes I can,” he snarled. “Listen: this is me telling you what you will not do.”
I raised the cookbook and tapped him on the nose. Bad cat.
He jerked the book out of my hands, ripped it in half, flipped the two halves, ripped them again, and raised his hand. The pieces of the cookbook fluttered to the ground. “No.”
Fine. I turned and walked away, to the ruined houses. Behind me Curran’s foot scraped over the ground. He leaped over me and landed in my path. He looked completely feral.
I halted. “Move.”
“No.”
I kicked him in the head. The pressure of the past forty-eight hours rampaged inside me like a storm, and I’d sunk all of it into the kick. The impact hit his jaw at an angle. Curran staggered back. I spun and snapped another kick. He dodged. Another. Curran moved forward and right. My kick missed by a hair. He grabbed my shin with his left hand, clamping it between his arm and his side, and swept my other leg from under me. Nice. A kung fu takedown.
I fell back. The pavement slapped my back. I rolled back up and hammered an uppercut to his chin. Hitting him in the body was useless. Might as well pummel a tank. The head was my only chance.
Curran snarled. Blood dripped from a cut on his cheek. I’d opened a gash with my kick.
I threw a left hook. He knocked my arm out of the way and shoved me back. I twisted out of the way on pure instinct—damn it, he was fast—dropped into a crouch, and swiped his legs from under him. He jumped up, avoiding the kick, and I took a knee to the head.
Ow.
The world shattered into tiny painful sparks. I tasted blood—my nose was dripping. I rolled back, coming to my feet, blocked his punch, and jammed my knuckles into his throat, interrupting his growl in midnote. Felt that, did you, baby?
Curran charged. His hand locked on my shoulders. He swept me off my feet and slammed me into the wall, back to the bricks, pinning me. His teeth snapped a hair from my cheek. I kneed him. He blocked and clamped me in place.
“Done?” he breathed out. “Hmm?”
“Are you done?”
“Baby, I haven’t even started.”
“Oh good. Go ahead so I can finish it.” And how exactly was I going to do that?
Curran pushed me harder, grinding me into the wall. “I’m waiting. Show me what you’ve got.”
“Let go and I will.”
“Yeah?”
“Yeah.”
“Promise me you won’t do this thing and I’ll let go.”
I just stared at him.
Curran spun away, took two steps, and punched the wall. “Damn it.”
The wall disintegrated in an explosion of bricks. I pulled a piece of gauze from my pocket and wiped the blood from my nose. There wasn’t much. Occupational hazard of picking a fight with a man who killed gods for a living.
Curran let out a ragged snarl and punched the other wall. It burst and the entire wreck of the house came down in a fountain of dust. He shook his hand, his knuckles bloody.
“Bricks are hard,” I told him patiently, as if to a child. “Don’t hit bricks. No, no.”
Curran picked up a brick and snapped it in half.
Idiot. “Oh, you’re so strong, Your Majesty.”
Curran hurled the chunks of the brick. They cleared the ruins and vanished into the Unicorn.
“If Derek were in trouble, you’d risk your life in a heartbeat.”
He turned to me. “Risk, yes. I wouldn’t slit my own throat for him. I like Julie. She is a great kid. But I love you. I forbid you to do this.”
“That’s not the way this mating works. You don’t get to order me to do things, and I don’t get to tell you what to do. That’s the only way we can survive, Curran.”
He swallowed. “Fine. Then I will ask. Please, don’t do this. Please. That’s as much as I can bend, Kate.”
“Do you remember when I told you that you couldn’t fight Erra, that it was stupid and reckless, because she would drive you insane?”
Curran’s face snapped into his flat Beast Lord mask.
“I begged you not to go. Begged.” I closed the distance between us. “You told me that you don’t get to cherry-pick your battles and you came anyway.”
“And we won.”
“And you were in a coma for two weeks. Give me another brick so I can beat you over the head with it. I told you! I told you her magic would screw you up. Did you listen? No. Would you do it again?”
“Of course I would,” he snarled. “She kicked your ass twice. I wasn’t going to let you walk in there alone. She was a challenge and it was my job.”
“And my job is to keep Julie safe. Opening the device alone won’t be enough. I’ll need someone to channel the magic into me. I’m going to ask the witches for help. I promise you that if Evdokia says no, I will let it go.”
Curran stared at me, his eyes furious molten gold.
“I’m not going to run off, lop the top off the device, and slice Julie’s throat. I might as well just murder her in that case. I’ll have to speak with Doolittle about my blood. I’ll have to arrange things with the witches. I’ll have to talk to Kamen and see if the device can even be opened without triggering a giant explosion. I give you my word that if things look hopeless at any point, I will stop. Meet me halfway. That’s all I’m asking.”
His face was grim.
“You have to let me at least try. I can’t just sit on my hands and do nothing.”
“If I keep you from doing this, you will leave me,” he said.
“I didn’t say that.” Giving an ultimatum to Curran was like waving a red cloak in front of a mad bull.
“You will. Maybe not right this second. But eventually you’ll walk away.” Curran took a long deep breath. “I sit in on every meeting.”
I had won.
“As long as you’re honest with me about your chances, I’ll support you. Kate, if you lie, it’s over.”
I crossed my arms. “You expect me to lie.”
“I don’t. I’m just getting it out there so there are no surprises.”
We stared at each other.
“Are we cool?” he asked.
“I don’t know, you tell . . .”
He pulled me over to him and kissed me. It was a hell of a kiss.
We broke apart.
“You talk too much,” he said.
“Whatever, Your Fluffiness.” I slid close to him, so his arm was around my shoulder. I felt better. He did, too—his posture lost some of the tension.
We walked to the car and kept walking. “Where are we going?”
“To the Temple,” Curran said. “I owe you another cookbook.”
IN THE THREE HOURS WE’D BEEN GONE, THE STEAK house had been transformed into the Pack’s field headquarters. Groups of shapeshifters patrolled the road and guarded the building. Knowing Jim, sentries lay in wait, hidden and watching for an enemy’s approach. People were crawling on the roof, installing a ballista and machine guns.
The parking lot lay empty, but the field behind the building was filled with cars spaced about ten feet apart. If the Keepers launched a rocket into our parking lot, not every vehicle would go up in flames. I hoped they tried something. My hands itched for my sword.
Curran parked in the front. Jackson, one of the guards, ran out and Curran tossed him the keys.
Jim met us at the door. Behind him Derek emerged. He looked like death: pale, his eyes bleak.
Shit.
I stopped. Curran’s hand brushed mine, and then he went off with Jim.
Derek came to a stop in front of me.
“Is she dead?” I asked.
“No. She’s sleeping.”
I exhaled. “You almost gave me a heart attack.”
“If I hadn’t—”
“Please, don’t flatter yourself. We both know the kid needed about five years of hard training before he could’ve taken her on. Your little beating made absolutely no difference.”