“Well, I have a girlfriend now,” Morgan replied. “Also, I thought you might like to know that I’m no longer bound by a geas to obey Isabeau.”

“What?” Dragos rapped out.

The Wyr Lord’s body language carried so much leashed aggression, Sid launched out of the bedroom. Sticking out a hand, she hurried up to him, “Lord Cuelebre, I’m Sidonie Martel. It’s an honor to meet you.”

Dragos’s eyes narrowed. “You’re the musician that went missing in the UK. You’d been kidnapped.”

He made no effort to shake her hand, and feeling awkward, she dropped it by her side. “Yes, sir, that’s right.”

Dragos turned his deadly gaze back to Morgan. “Did you do that?”

“Me? No—oh, no. That was someone else entirely.” As Morgan turned to the dining table, he shot Sid a vivid, wry glance. “Have a drink with me, Dragos, and give me the chance to apologize.”

“I’ll skip the drink,” Dragos said. “Get to the point. Convince me why I shouldn’t burn you to a crisp.”

Morgan spun back again, but before he could say anything, Sid leaped in. She told the Wyr Lord, “Whatever he did in the past wasn’t his fault. Isabeau had him trapped in a geas. He didn’t have a choice about any of the things he did.”

Rubbing the back of his neck, Morgan murmured to her, “We should probably just have that printed on cards, so we can hand them out wherever we go.”

Dragos angled his head as he considered Sidonie. The force of his attention was difficult to bear, and he looked… He looked like…

Hot gold eyes captured her. Tell me the truth, the Wyr Lord whispered in her head. Let me see it in your mind.

Caught in his spell, she was helpless to stop the flood of images she gave him. In the space of a heartbeat, she gave him everything. The kidnapping, her imprisonment, the moments of heated tenderness with Morgan, the confrontation with Isabeau.

Her bargain with Azrael.

Abruptly, the connection snapped off, and she felt immersed, in Morgan’s familiar magic.

Shaken, she staggered. Somehow Morgan had come to be standing by her. He put a steadying arm around her, and when he stared at Dragos, he looked as dangerous as she had ever seen him look.

“If you try anything like that again,” Morgan growled. “We will become enemies in truth.”

“Stop,” she whispered to him, putting a hand on his chest. His muscles were rigid, and he was furious, but making an enemy of Dragos Cuelebre was the height of insanity. “He shouldn’t have done that without asking, but he also didn’t hurt me. If seeing my memories helped in any way, let’s just let it go.”

Dragos’s eyelids lowered over his hot gold gaze, hiding their expression. “I’ll take that drink after all,” he said suddenly. “While you tell me why you’re here.”

“We’re looking to relocate,” Sid said, while Morgan fought a battle with his temper. “I’m no longer human since I’ve been kidnapped, Morgan’s no longer bound to Isabeau, and we have… how many is it now? Eighteen lycanthropes who used to be Isabeau’s Hounds who need jobs and homes. This is my old apartment. It won’t do—we’re not all going to fit…”

Her lame attempt at a joke went over like a lead balloon as the two men glared at each other. Taking the scotch bottle, Dragos tipped it over the empty glass waiting on the table. Taking the glass, he drained it and set it back down.

He said to Morgan, “You endangered my mate and unborn son back in Hollywood.”

“Under Isabeau’s compulsion,” Morgan replied tightly.

“Yes, I saw that was the truth.” Dragos crossed his arms, and his stance relaxed. “Okay, I’ll let it go.”

Morgan shot a look at Sid that still sparked with temper, but, she saw, it was less than it had been before. He gave the Wyr Lord a nod. “That’s good to know.”

Dragos considered them, gold eyes narrowed. “Tell me why I should let lycanthropy into my back yard. It’s a communicable disease.”

“Yes, it is.” Morgan nodded. “But it’s a treatable one, if the victim who was bitten gets medical treatment right away. My Hounds are decent men. You can interview each one, if you like, and I’ll personally vouch for every one of them. And none of us go into a mindless frenzy at the full moon. I can’t say we won’t defend ourselves if we’re attacked for some reason, but we’ll take full responsibility for cleaning the situation up—and we won’t spread the lycanthropy virus. I give you my word.”

Sid’s new truthsense was just a baby bud on the vine, but even she heard the rock-solid sincerity in Morgan’s voice. She smiled to herself. That sincerity had gotten her through the darkest time in her life.

“Say I accept your word on that particular issue,” Dragos said as he considered each of them. “You’re not Wyr, but you shapeshift, and you’re very dangerous. You can live in my demesne if you swear fealty to me and live by Wyr laws. The same goes for any of your Hounds that wish to relocate. Those are my terms.”

Sid felt compelled to speak up. “We owe fealty to one of the gods. Will that interfere?”

Dragos shook his head. “As long as your god doesn’t cause you to break any civil laws, your fealty is no different from a dozen different religious practices scattered throughout New York.”

She exchanged a glance with Morgan, who gave her a slight, private smile. He turned his attention to Dragos. “Agreed. We’ll accept your terms.”

A corner of Dragos’s ruthless mouth lifted. “I think it could be very useful to have a sorcerer of your Power and skill owe me fealty.”

Morgan narrowed his eyes and smiled. He countered, “I think it might be useful to have a dragon owe me a favor or two.”

Dragos inclined his head and strode for the door. Just before exiting the apartment, he stopped and turned back. In that brusque manner of his, he said, “I visited at Isabeau’s court a long time ago. It was before you were there.”

“Yes, she spoke of it once or twice,” Morgan replied with a frown.

Dragos tilted his head. “I’m curious, what did she say? Did she ever tell you why I was there?”

Raising his eyebrows, Morgan replied readily enough. “She was convinced you wanted a Powerful artifact she had in her possession, called Azrael’s Athame. She later used it to cast her geas on me. She said she always kept it hidden the times you were at court, but I don’t know where. She would never reveal her hiding places to me. By the time she captured me, she had become obsessed with the fear of losing it, or it being stolen, so she ordered me to make a gold chain that was unbreakable. Whenever I was at court, she wore the Athame on the chain. I don’t know what she did with it when I was absent.”