He laid me on the bed, slipped in beside me, and took me in his arms. The tears wouldn't stop, which really made me mad because they were making my nose go all stuffy and I was finding it more difficult to inhale his scent.
"You smell so good," I said.
"I showered. Best shower I've ever had."
I slid my hand up into his hair. The ends were still wet and the strands curled around my fingers.
"I'm so glad it's all over," I whispered.
"Me, too. Cry all you want, Brit. It'll be our secret."
While he rubbed my back, I cried long and hard. Loud sobs were muffled as I buried my face against his chest. All the fear, the terror, the grief from the past few days just built up and flowed out. The times when I'd pretended to be brave had been the hardest of all. The times when I'd tried not to let Connor see how terrified I was of what they might do to him. Or of what he'd think when he learned the truth about me.
I cried until his shirt was damp and my eyes were swollen.
I thought I was still weeping when I fell asleep.
The knock on the door woke me.
"Okay, you two, breakfast is ready."
I gasped. I was still in Connor's arms. How had—
"Don't be so surprised, baby. I have a keen sense of smell."
I cringed. I knew she'd called me baby just to irritate me.
Hearing her footsteps on the stairs, I dared to tilt my head back. Connor smiled down on me.
"Sleeping with a babe and breakfast. What a deal."
I nipped his chin. "Thanks for last night."
"I've been there, Brittany. My first kill was a bear. God, he was magnificent, but he was attacking a camper." I could see in his eyes the sadness he was feeling with the memory. "He'd just kinda gone crazy. He wouldn't run off."
I knew humans probably couldn't understand the grief Shifters felt over the death of an animal, but they were part animal as well, and they grieved at any loss of life.
"Does it get easier?" I asked.
"No, but I don't think I'd want it to. If killing came easily then I'd be like the men my father prosecutes."
I touched his cheek. I almost told him again that I loved him, but I wondered if repeating—confirming—my feelings would make it harder when the time came for us to separate. Instead I kissed him.
Then we went down to the kitchen.
"Better not have been anything other than sleep going on in that room last night," Mom said as we joined her at the table.
"Mom'"
"There wasn't," Connor assured her.
With a nod, she passed him the biscuits. I couldn't remember the last time my mom cooked breakfast. We both usually just took care of ourselves.
"You don't have to make things up to me, Mom."
"I always cook when we have company. Don't expect this tomorrow."
"The pancakes are delicious, Ms. Reed," Connor said.
I narrowed my eyes at him and mouthed, "Suck-up." He winked at me.
"Thank you, Connor. So what are your intentions regarding my daughter?"
"Mom' God. That is so…a hundred years ago. People don't ask that anymore."
"Maybe they should."
Connor laughed. He was having entirely too much fun. He started to say something, but the doorbell rang.
"I'll get it," Mom said, dropping her napkin on the chair and heading for the door.
"I'm so sorry," I said, with a roll of my eyes.
"Don't worry about it." He tapped his fork against his plate. "So what do you want my intentions toward you to be?"
"Connor, I—"
Mom walked in holding a black envelope. She was so pale that I thought maybe she'd left all her blood at the front door.
"Mom?"
She jumped, as though startled. "It's for you."
"Me?" I took it from her. My name was written in elegant gold script. I turned it over. It wasn't an envelope. It was a piece of paper with all four corners folded into the center and held in place with a wax seal of a snarling wolf. I opened it carefully and read what was written inside. Suddenly it was like all the air had been sucked out of the room. I grew dizzy.
"Brittany?" Connor said, covering my hand with his.
I looked at him, then at Mom, then back at him. "It's from the Council of Elders. It's a summons. Tomorrow they're holding a tribunal to determine my status as a Dark Guardian."
"They could have at least given her a few days to recover from the hell we went through," Connor said to his father. His father was a lawyer. I knew Connor planned to follow in his footsteps.
Now, though, he was pacing in his father's study. I'd never seen so many books in my life—except in a library.
But I was beginning to get accustomed to Connor's anger where injustice was concerned.
His father was sitting behind his desk. He looked so incredibly distinguished. I wondered if Connor would resemble him as he got older. "The elders don't usually put off the unpleasant."
"You can represent her," Connor said.
"Lawyers aren't allowed inside."
"So what—she has to face them alone?"
His father tapped an expensive-looking gold pen on his desk. "The tribunal will involve the Council of Elders and the Dark Guardians. They'll listen to the evidence and make a determination."
Connor looked at me where I was sitting in a chair by the window and smiled. "Then you've got nothing to worry about. If the Guardians—"
"Connor, your decision can't be based on emotion. It has to be made after listening to the facts and determining what is best for the pack. As a matter of fact, son"—he lifted a black envelope similar to what I'd gotten—"you're not to have any contact with her until after the tribunal. If you'd been home this morning, this would have already been delivered to you and you'd understand your responsibilities."
Averting his eyes, Connor crossed his arms over his chest. "Until I open it, I don't know exactly what it says."
"Be careful, son. If you go against the elders' wishes, they'll ban you from the tribunal and then you'll be facing one of your own. They don't take well to insubordination. The Dark Guardians may be running around protecting us, but the elders control things and have the final say in all matters."