“It isn’t a religion.”
“What?” She stepped off the escalator after him.
“Serving the Lady. There’s a spiritual aspect, or can be, but it isn’t a religion. Cynna could go right on being a Catholic if she wants.”
“You might not see a conflict, but I suspect the Church would.” She frowned at him. “You sound like you want her to do it. To apprentice herself to Hannah.”
He hesitated and then said slowly, “Hannah’s eighty. That’s old for a human, even one clan-born. There’s been a buzz for years about her lack of an apprentice. She had one once. She was lulled in the accident that blinded Hannah. That was more than thirty years ago.” He looked at Lily. “Nokolai has to have a Rhej.”
She was absurdly disappointed. She’d wanted him to share her anger, dammit. “That’s not Cynna’s problem. Anyway, I thought you didn’t like the Rhejes.”
Cullen stopped. He let his bag slip to the floor.
“What?” She looked around, barely resisting the urge to reach for her weapon. “What is it?”
“You.” He moved behind her and put his hands on her shoulders.
She jolted and turned to face him. “Are you crazy? What are you doing?”
“I’m going to give you a massage.” He moved behind her again. “You’re wound so tight you’re likely to plug someone for bumping into you. If you won’t accept sex,” he said, putting his hands on her shoulders again and kneading, “you’ll have to make do with a back rub.”
“Here?” But she didn’t move. His fingers dug in just right, relaxing muscles she hadn’t realized were so tight.
“Here. Where there are lots and lots of people around, and you won’t worry about where I’m going to put my hands next. This is a strictly asexual massage.”
She didn’t think Cullen could do asexual if his life depended on it. But he wasn’t trying to seduce her, she admitted. And… it felt good. His thumbs made circles on her neck, and it was like he’d poured warm oil along her muscles. Everything loosened.
“Damn, you’re tight. I mean that in a strictly asexual way,” he added. “Because I have no way of knowing—”
“Shut up, Cullen.” But she smiled in spite of herself.
“Have you been working out? That’s not as much fun as sex, but it can dissipate the tension.”
“Sure. With an Ml6.”
“Ah, I sense Benedict’s strong hand. He’s too banged up to train you himself, though.”
“Jeff’s put me and Cynna through our paces.”
She’d gone to Benedict for tactical advice and firepower. Nokolai possessed a weapons cache that horrified the law enforcement officer in her, but was coming in damned handy now. She and Cynna would carry Ml6s; Cullen got Benedict’s machine gun. He’d also carry the rocket launcher, and they’d each have grenades.
Benedict had helped with her lists, too.
They couldn’t know how big their gate would be until Cullen had a chance to evaluate the ritual, maybe not until he worked it. Mass wasn’t an issue, he’d told her, but size mattered. She didn’t pretend to understand that, but she and Benedict had worked up lists of supplies and weapons based on various possibilities.
What should they take if it was just her, Cullen, and Cynna? If they could take either two extra people or one person and the rocket launcher, which should they leave out? Or if—oh, that’s right. She hadn’t told Cullen about that possibility. “He wanted me to ask Max to join us.”
“Max?” His fingers paused. He chuckled. “I’d like to have seen his face when you invited him to go to hell.”
“I didn’t get to see it yet myself. He wasn’t at the club.”
Max was the owner of Club Hell, where Cullen danced. He was small, bad-tempered, foul-mouthed, and a gnome. Though no one was supposed to know the last bit.
“Why Max, anyway?” He began knuckling her spine. “He’s no good with weapons.”
“He can fight, though, and he’s smaller than any of the lupi. Plus Benedict says gnomes are immune to demon magic. The compulsion type, at least.”
Cullen made a scoffing noise. “Rumor. Tall tales.”
“I don’t think Benedict makes tactical judgments based on rumor. Will you ask him?”
“Sure. He’ll turn me down, but I’ll ask.” He gave her shoulders a last squeeze. “Better?”
It was. She rolled her shoulders and nodded. “Thanks.”
“I’m just looking after myself, you know.” He picked up his bag.
“How’s that?” she fell back into step beside him.
“You stay stretched this tight and you’re going to screw up and get us all killed. Can’t run things by committee once we cross, you know. You’ll be in charge.”
Uneasy and unsure why, she shook her head. “I’m the least knowledgeable of us. You or Cynna should be captain, or head wolf, or whatever you want to call it.”
“Boss bitch?” He grinned at her scowl. “No, it needs to be you. Cynna’s not used to running the show, and I’m not alpha enough.”
She snorted. “Oh, yeah, I’ve noticed how submissive you are.”
“I do like to be on top, but I try to be flexible. There are all sorts of other lovely positions. For example—”
“Cullen.”
He flashed her a grin. “Right. Alpha isn’t really a synonym for bossy, you know. I could handle that just fine. A true alpha… funny. I never tried to put it into words before, but I know I’m not one.”
They’d reached the automatic doors leading outside. She went through first. “So is a true alpha different from a plain old alpha?”
“Yes,” he said definitely. “What you mean by alpha isn’t what a lupus means. You think of it as machismo— someone who dominates others. We mean someone who can’t be dominated. A subtle but real difference. Bullies need to dominate, but can be cowed if you’re tougher than they are.”
She nodded, squinting against the sun. Where—? Oh, yeah. “I’m parked in Section C. So what’s the rest of it?” she asked as they wove between the parked cabs waiting for a fare. “Because you’ve got the ‘don’t even try to dominate me’ thing down pat, I’d say.”
“Glad you noticed. The rest of it…” He shook his head, falling silent as they started across the parking area.
Lily let the subject drop. Why was she uncomfortable about being in charge after they crossed? It wasn’t just her lack of knowledge. It was… guilt, she realized, feeling a little sick. She wasn’t sure she should be trusted with their lives. She’d proven she was willing to risk them by roping them into doing this.
There was the way she was healing, too. Or not healing. The burn was better, but she still got so damned tired. She’d been taking naps in the middle of the day, for God’s sake. That wasn’t normal. If she couldn’t—
“Rule has it.”
“It?” He’d startled her. “What it?”
“The alpha thing. The part I don’t have. So does Benedict. Mick didn’t.”
The brother who died. “I didn’t really know Mick. He was already under Helen’s control when we met, so I never had a chance to know the real person.”
“The real Mick wasn’t the sonofabitch you met, but he was no angel, either. He wanted to be Lu Nuncio. Helen didn’t plant that desire. She just used it. Which way?” he asked as the reached Section C.
“Down here.” She was almost sure this was the right aisle.
Cullen followed. “Mick convinced himself he’d be better for Nokolai than Rule, but his ambition was really all about what he wanted. Or what he didn’t want. He hated the idea of submitting to his younger brother. Isen knew it. That’s why he didn’t name Mick heir.
“Isen’s got it,” he went on, seeming to speak to himself as much as her. “He’s a ruthless bastard, but he’s ruthless on behalf of the clan. Or sometimes for the good of all lupi, everywhere. A true alpha instinctively thinks of the clan first. I don’t. I can,” he added, with a twitch of a smile. “But it’s an effort. With Rule, it’s automatic.”