The werewolf wore an artfully ragged jean jacket and a black tank top. Think Joan Jett only hairier around the full moon. Despite her petite frame, she could be intimidating when she wanted to be, which, unfortunately, was often.
Georgia, on the other hand, looked like something off a fashion magazine with her lithe frame and hair the color of a polished copper pot. They were complete opposites, but somehow they complemented each other.
I hadn’t seen the couple since we’d left New Orleans. They’d helped us find Maisie and also fought with us against my grandmother and her goons. Georgia was awesome. And Mac? Well, let’s just say the were and I had a complex relationship.
The were crossed her arms but deigned a terse nod in my general direction. Ignoring her surliness, I turned to Georgia. “What brings you to the Big Apple?”
Georgia looked to Mac expectantly, but the werewolf hunkered down. Finally, Georgia realized she’d be doing all the talking and explained. “Mac’s uncle called her back.”
Mac’s uncle was Michael Romulus, Alpha of the New York werewolves. Since I’d just seen him a couple of nights earlier at Vein, I was surprised he hadn’t mentioned Mac’s imminent arrival. Although, to be fair, we had been discussing a brutal murder.
“Do you know why?” I went to join Adam on the sofa, while Georgia took her place next to Mac across the table from us.
Mac crossed her arms and scowled at the coffee table. “Yeah.”
Adam put his arm around my shoulders. “Before you got here, Georgia said they have a favor to ask us.”
I looked at the couple for confirmation. Georgia nodded, but Mac looked more miserable than ever. Finally, the vamp nudged her lover’s side and wasn’t subtle about it.
Mac sighed and sat up straighter. “Do you remember in New Orleans when you asked me to help you find your sister?”
“Of course,” I said.
“And how you promised a favor in return?”
Heaviness settled in my center. Somehow I just knew this favor wasn’t going to be something I liked. “Yeah.”
“I’m calling it in now.” Her tone was tight, like uttering the words cost her a chunk of pride.
Adam pulled his arm away and leaned forward. “What do you need?” His casual demeanor was gone now.
“I think Mike called me back because he wants me to find a mate.” She tipped her head toward her lover. “Obviously that’s a problem.”
I sucked in a breath. This wasn’t good at all. Even if Michael could accept the fact his niece was a friend of Sappho, which was unlikely given werewolves’ male-dominated culture, he probably wouldn’t be too thrilled by the fact she’d fallen for a vampire. Mating between the races had been forbidden centuries earlier by the Black Covenant. Abolishing that provision was on the table for the peace talks, but it was also one of the big sticking points of the negotiations. Naturally, as the product of such a forbidden match and the participant in one now myself, I was also pretty invested in the outcome of that line item.
“So what are you going to do?” I asked.
“What choice do I have? I’m going to have to tell him about Georgia and me.”
Adam and I exchanged a tense glance. “Well, it probably won’t be easy, but Mike’s a reasonable guy.” Adam’s tone was overly bright with false optimism.
“You have to understand. I’m an old maid by were standards. Most of my friends and cousins were married off by the age of twenty. I’m pushing forty.”
Georgia patted her girlfriend’s arm. “You’re just a baby.”
She was right. By vampire standards, forty was pretty young. Georgia had told me back in New Orleans that she was seventy-five—twenty years my senior. But werewolves had shorter life spans than the other dark races. No one really knew why. The average werewolf would live only about two hundred years. Compared to mages who lived to be two thousand and some vampires who’d literally been around since before antiquity, they were little more than violent puppies. That reputation also explained their lack of power at the negotiating table.
“Either way,” Mac continued. “Michael’s been on me for years to settle down. That’s one of the reasons I went to New Orleans. I figured, out of sight, out of mind, you know? But I guess with everything going on he’s decided to do something about his spinster niece. And with the Lupercalia mating rituals coming in a couple of weeks, well, I put it together.” She rubbed her hands on her jeans. “Needless to say, I don’t think he’ll do a miraculous one-eighty and welcome Georgia into the pack.”
I sighed and scooted closer to Adam. I’d certainly had my share of shitty family setups and betrayals, but at least I’d had a right to choose my own mate. Of course, it took killing my grandmother to achieve, but still. “So how exactly do you need our help?”
Mac leaned forward with her elbows on her knees. “You said you were friends with Uncle Mike, right?”
“Sure,” I said slowly.
Mac grabbed Georgia’s hand. “We were hoping you could talk to him for us. You know, open the door to ease the way and all.”
I went still. “Um, Mac? Not that we’re not totally supportive of your right to be with Georgia—”
“We are,” Adam jumped in. “Totally.”
“But?” Mac demanded, her eyes going all squinty.
“But don’t you think it’s best if he hears it from you?”
“If I believed that, I wouldn’t have come to you.” Mac’s jaw went hard. I knew it was costing her a lot to ask me of all people for help, but she was asking the impossible. “You squelching on your promise?”
“You don’t understand,” Adam said. “It’s not that we don’t want to help you. But we’ve got some serious shit going on right now. Sabina and I are knee-deep in a murder investigation. We can’t put that aside to play mediators for you and your uncle.”
Mac jumped up. “I told you they wouldn’t do it!” She raised her voice at Georgia. “We’re out of here.” She began to stalk off, but Georgia pulled her back.
“Mackenzie Romulus, sit your ass down!” she demanded. “Adam and Sabina have every right to have reservations.” She turned to us. “Sorry, guys. We’re both feeling pretty frustrated right now.”
“Totally understandable,” Adam said.
Mac dropped back onto the couch and crossed her arms. Georgia ignored her and soldiered on. “If you’re unable to talk to Michael on our behalf, could I at least trouble you for a place to crash?”