Winter Court by SM Reine

Author:SM Reine [Reine, SM]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: Fantasy, Romance
ISBN: 9781518798337
Amazon: 1518798330
Barnesnoble: 1518798330
Goodreads: 27748970
Publisher: Red Iris Books
Published: 2015-10-27T06:00:00+00:00

I made multiple iterations of Pierce’s would-be cure. Some were charged by the moon; others were charged by the wind. Other variations involved alterations to the dose of silver nitrate.

I was careful with the silver. We didn’t have much of it, and it was a critical ingredient. I should have been more careful with the herbs, though. I started running out after a couple more days.

“Damn!” I swore, lobbing an empty vial into the sink. It shattered against the drain.

Graham chose that moment to enter the kitchen. “Problem?”

I leaned on the counter as I studied the werewolf. He was a refreshing hint of normalcy after all the time I’d been spending with Ofelia and Leah. He wore a polo, slacks, and loafers—the only person within thirty miles that I could imagine having a meeting with Pierce Hardwick.

If not for the fact that there was a faintly glassy look to his eyes, indicating that Mad Dog had some kind of Alpha command on him, I might have been relieved to see him.

“I’m running out of herbs,” I said.

“Help yourself to Rage’s greenhouse. It’s out back.”

“I can’t go anywhere unescorted.” I gestured at my skirt suit, which I had been airing out every night and re-wearing each day. “I don’t even have a way of getting more clothes.”

“Normally, I’d offer to help, but my agency has been significantly limited, too.” Graham’s sad smile didn’t touch his eyes.

There was that pesky sympathy thing again. Graham may have been trying to hide it, but I could tell that he was miserable. My heart ached for him. “What are you doing with these people anyway? You don’t belong at this mansion, even when it’s not occupied by bikers.”

“Donne’s my son. I go where he does, especially since we became pack.” Graham didn’t look nearly old enough to have an adult son, but he didn’t look mean enough to be a werewolf, either. Appearances were deceiving. “I believed it would be safer for us to be here—that we wouldn’t be able to hurt anyone with Rage watching us.”

My lips thinned, and I successfully resisted the urge to point out how his containment had been useless.

“I was wondering…” Graham hesitated. “How much silver nitrate do you have?”

“Enough. I’m not running low.”

“Do you have extra?” He seemed to be selecting his words carefully.

It took me a moment to realize what he was asking. He wanted to know if I could weaponize the silver nitrate. “For you, or for our enemies?”

Graham folded his arms and just looked at me.

The regret hung from him like a cloak. He hated what he had done to Pierce, and he was ready to end it all over that. That, and the fact that he was dying of lycanthropy anyway.

“The amount of silver nitrate I have is sufficient for making cures,” I said. “It only takes minute amounts for each dose. I have less than an ounce in total.”

He sighed. “I was afraid of that.”

I had seen that look in people before—not werewolves, but people dying of terminal illness.

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