Chapter 419: The Great Crib Conspiracy

The guard stopped in front of a door at the end of the corridor. He opened it and stepped aside.

Guinevere walked in first.

Five people were sitting around a table in a windowless room. Maddox’s sister was in the center chair with her hood down and her dark hair catching the overhead light. Damon Tavian was to her left. An attorney Guinevere had never seen was beside him with a leather satchel on the table. Beta Draven on his other side. And Brennan Pike was at the far end, bruised nose and all, sitting in a chair like a man who had been told to behave and was succeeding for the moment.

Her cuffed hands flew to her chest. The motion was involuntary, the hands arriving at her heart before the thought finished forming. The jingle of the chain undercut the emotion by exactly the amount the universe thought was appropriate, which was a lot, because this woman’s most heartfelt moments had been soundtracked by handcuffs over the last eight hours.

"You all came here for me." Her voice cracked.

Brennan’s eyes got wet. He would deny this. The bruised nose would be his excuse.

"Of course we did." Blair stood up from her chair and hugged Guinevere. "I’m Blair. We are best friends. I’ve told you this but just in case you forgot. Now you know. And I like the jumpsuit. The pockets are great."

"They are very functional pockets," Guinevere agreed.

Kael entered behind her with the swagger of an ex-war criminal who had been in prison for eight hours and was already running the information network through a card empire while his wolf princess conquered everything else with her book club.

His eyes swept the room, moving across each face, registering the people he knew.

Blair. Good.

Damon. Expected. Dislike. No fornication would be happening on Kael’s watch.

Brennan. Useful. Iffy on competency but he was slowly redeeming himself. Kael would allow it.

Two men he didn’t know.

"Brennan, you look like hell," Kael commented.

"Thank you, Sir. The nose is healing. The ego is thriving." Brennan grinned at him with the energy of a man who ran on validation and sandwiches, and who had been fueled by both things in the last twelve hours.

Kael’s eyes moved to Beta Draven. "Draven. You look much more alive than the last time I saw you."

"Yes, your Master Mage and brother are to thank for that," he replied.

Kael gave a single nod then his eyes moved to Briggs, who he recognized.

He pulled out the chair at the end of the table and sat. Blair guided Guinevere into the chair beside her and sat back down. Damon’s hand found Blair’s under the table.

Kael stiffened, his eyes narrowing on Damon.

"Blair, we discussed this. Skin contact leads to—"

Blair cut him off. "If you say pregnancy in this room, I will have Brennan portal you into the ocean."

"Hands today. Marks tomorrow. Runes by Thursday. Baby by spring."

"KAEL."

"Baby dragon-wolf by spring. You heard me. It’ll be ugly and I am NOT building a crib."

"Nobody asked you to build a crib."

"Good. Because I won’t. I’ll supervise the crib. From a distance. With complaints," Kael warned.

Damon looked at Blair with a look that very clearly said watch this.

"You would come to live with me in Shadowfell and I would build our crib." He pressed his lips to Blair’s forehead.

Kael’s soul left his body. What remained in the chair was a man whose left eye was twitching at a frequency that could power a small village.

"SHADOWFELL?" The word came out at a volume that made Brennan flinch and Briggs clutch his satchel. "You want to take her to SHADOWFELL? To live? In NYROS? With WOLVES? She is a DRAGON. She was BORN in Drakencrest. She is not going to abandon a navy accent wall for a DOG DEN."

"Kael, that is not necessary," Blair stated without looking away from Damon.

"IT WAS VERY NECESSARY," Kael continued. "HE SAID CRIB. HE SAID OUR CRIB. HE SAID OUR. THAT IS A POSSESSIVE PRONOUN, BLAIR. HE IS POSSESSING YOU WITH GRAMMAR."

"Kael, lower your voice."

"I WILL NOT LOWER MY VOICE. I WILL RAISE MY VOICE UNTIL THIS MAN REMOVES HIS HAND AND MOUTH FROM YOUR GENITALS."

Guinevere looked at Brennan. Brennan looked at Guinevere. Both looked at Beta Draven, who was sitting with his hands clasped and his eyes forward and an expression that confirmed this was not the first time he had watched a family implode over a forehead kiss and it would not be the last.

Briggs opened his satchel, removed a pen, and started writing. Kael’s head snapped toward him.

"WHAT ARE YOU WRITING?"

"Minutes," Briggs answered calmly. "Of the meeting."

"THIS IS NOT A MEETING. THIS IS A WOLF THREATENING TO TAKE A PRINCESS TO HIS CRIB AND BUILD ONE TOO."

Damon’s arm was now around Blair’s chair. He hadn’t moved it there during the speech. It had been there before the speech. Kael noticed it now because his peripheral vision had been busy screaming and had only just submitted the report.

"HIS ARM. HIS ARM IS NEW. WHEN DID THE ARM HAPPEN? BRENNAN, WHEN DID THE ARM HAPPEN?"

"I’m not getting involved," Brennan said.

"YOU ARE ALREADY INVOLVED. YOU BUILT THE PORTAL THAT BROUGHT HIM HERE. AM I RIGHT?"

"Yes."

"THEN YOU ARE AN ACCESSORY. A PORTAL ROMANCE. YOU ARE THE GETAWAY DRIVER, BRENNAN."

Guinevere reached across the table and put her cuffed hand on Kael’s arm. The chain jingled. The jingle cut through the noise like a bell at a boxing match.

Kael stopped. Looked at her hand. Looked at her face. The green eyes looking back at him were calm and warm and carried the quiet message of a woman who had watched this same man stand at the back of a book club for her and was now asking him, silently, to sit down.

He did not sit down.

He literally reached across the table, hooked Guinevere under both arms, and lifted her onto his lap. The movement was fast, smooth, and completely unauthorized. Guinevere landed on his thighs with a jingle of cuffs and a squeak of surprise.

Her face went from prison-pale to tomato in under two seconds.

"Kael, what the hell are you—" Blair started.

"She’s my emotional support wolf."