At everything she could've lost.

A fine tremor shuddered through him when she ran a finger down the side of his face. "Pack."

He pulled back and smiled. "Pack."

They made their way back to her table where London and Taggert stood waiting.

In lieu of congratulations, London nodded to her and scanned the crowd. "You are one of the few females that are able to hold a pack on your own. You just made yourself the biggest attraction and target for every male in search of a powerful mate. A seductive combination."

Raven took her seat then allowed herself to be nudged further into the booth to make room for all four of them. She sat in the center curve, a place of protection, one similar to almost all the other alphas in the room.

The only exception was Dominic. He sat, fully wolfed-out, at the front of the table, a gatekeeper for the unwary.

Most of the gazes cast their way were a combination of respectfulness and curiosity. She glanced at the corner for Jackson and Aaron. Only they had disappeared. The last of the tension dropped away to know they were safe.

"I need to get back to work. I'll see you back at the house." Durant lifted her hand and kissed her palm. "I never doubted you."

Then he was gone.

Rylan approached when Durant left. The large cat still hadn't forgiven him for turning Cassie, even if it had meant saving her life.

"I never thought to see you here."

"You didn't think I'd miss it, did you?" His smile was genuine, the friend that she thought she'd lost. "Congratulations."

"I'm not sorry I volunteered you." Raven lifted her chin, refusing to hide from what she'd done. It was selfish, but she wasn't ready for him to disappear out of her life without a fight.

His eyes darkened. "We'll figure something out. I'll meet you on the last day of the conclave to discuss where we go from here."

He lifted her fingers to his mouth. Instead of a press of lips, he nipped at the back of her hand, stealing a drop of blood. Then he, too, was gone.

The lover's kiss shared between vampires stung, heat spreading in its wake. Blood lust and desire were intertwined for vampires and a powerful aphrodisiac for those trusting enough to leave themselves vulnerable to their lovers.

Not wanting the others to see the effect he had on her, she cleared her throat and gestured toward the crowd. "Do we need to walk around like the rest?"

Taggert shook his head. "Not tonight. They will come to us. After an hour or so, I'll make the rounds for you."

Raven wasn't sure of the protocols, but her relieve at not having to parade herself about was too great to object.

Over the next few hours, a steady procession of people came to the table and introduced themselves. She made it a point to memorize faces and pack affiliation, but names blurred together after the first hour. Midnight came and with it, the press of shifters increased. Her skin itched with the need to get out and ease the ache resting below her skin.

Taggert sensed her growing unease and returned to the table. "We've stayed long enough. We can leave if you want."

"Yes." Raven stood, grateful for the reprieve.

The men guided her toward the door. Dominic led the way, the big, black wolf kept people at a distance. Bringing him was no different than brandishing a cocked weapon. She nodded to the few people she recognized, trying not to be bothered by the gawking. No one approached them.

"We can go over the petitions you received in the morning."

"My petitions?" Raven almost missed a step at Taggert's comment. They were almost to the door.

"Now that you're pack, it's time to build your connections. You'll receive petitions, requests for favors, and propositions in forming allegiances."

When she didn't answer, Taggert took it as incentive to continue. "It's commonplace practice at the conclave. You'll want to be selective, not let yourself be swayed by someone else's trouble. You need to make connections that will strengthen the pack. I handed out your cards and received a number in return. The first notices will start arriving tomorrow."

The unforeseen revelation poleaxed her. It was the last thing she expected. She burst outside into the fresh air, closed her eyes and inhaled, trying not to panic. "But I'm new. I have nothing to offer."

London unlocked the car and scowled at her over the roof. "And too naive if you think that. You're too attractive of a prize for anyone to pass up."

Chapter Twenty-seven.

SECOND DAY OF THE CONCLAVE: WAXING MOON.

Raven had spent most of last night staring at the full moon spilling into her room. She hadn't slept a wink, the moon's call wreaking havoc on her body. She'd half expected an attack from Vivian, especially since Aaron would be joining the other teenagers in their first cresting tomorrow night.

Nothing came.

It made her suspicious.

They drove to the club in silence, the sun's dying rays barely tinged the horizon. In less than an hour, she would be claiming Taggert. Raven's stomach dipped at the possibility of being denied. Yesterday had been cutting it too close.

As they entered the club, she marveled at how relaxed Taggert appeared. He walked through the packed crowd with a confidence that she'd never seen in him. The place was crammed with more people than last night if that were possible. All the seats were taken, more than half the crowd standing along the walls.

The noise level dipped as they made their way to their table, like a novelty to be studied. Some were curious, while others sized her up, determining if she were a threat to be removed. She filed those faces away to remember for later as possible threats.

Her ass barely hit her seat when the council members slowly filtered into the room. They were all pristinely dressed, each resuming the same positions on the dais as the previous night. "Let the petitions begin."

No one moved. Raven took her courage in both hands and stood.

"You again." The older wolf on the council scowled in disgust.

Raven would not be deterred. "I have a petition."

Someone on the council snorted, but Donaldson was the one who spoke. "Why am I not surprised. Let's hear it."

"My claim is on the slave named Taggert." The rest of her speech vanished as Taggert stepped out of Durant's office. When he'd left to ready himself ten minutes ago for inspection, the last thing she expected was to find him parading through the crowd like some Chippendale dancer on display for all to see.

Taggert held his head high, and she realized he was showing off for her. This ritual meant that he had been chosen. That someone had found him good enough.

The collar sparkled under the light. Though slim, his muscles drew her gaze, gleaming with oil that urged her to touch.

He was hers, and she disliked having to share him that way.

Then he came to stop in front of the council.

"What about the rumors that you'd removed the collar?" The lone woman on the board rose. She wore a flowing skirt, not appearing to walk but glide as she circled around Taggert.

Her dark hair was neatly pulled back, drawing attention to her light coffee skin. Despite the faint wrinkles that dared to crowd the corner of her eyes, her exotic appearance easily captured the audience.

It was only when she pinned Raven under her gaze that she understood the power of the woman.

Her eyes were a dark brown, almost black.

Shadows moved in them.

The age of the woman pressed down on her, dragging her back to when voodoo priestesses ruled. If she peered deep enough, Raven could see tortured souls withering for mercy.

A warning.

Raven barely felt the undercurrent of magic. A moment ticked off before she recognized it and brushed aside the sorcery. The woman's eyes changed to just plain brown again.

The experience left Raven shivering.

It'd been a spell.

But what version of the witch was the truth and which one the lie?

"I was under the impression any tampering with the collar killed the host." It wasn't exactly a lie. She had removed the collar, but Taggert took it upon himself to wear it again to protect her. From the suspicious nature of the practitioner, Raven grudgingly admitted he might have made the right decision. "Yet, he's wearing it."

The woman inclined her head. "Indeed."

The curmudgeon wolf from yesterday rose and approached Taggert. After a short inspection, he shook his head. "Weak. Unable to shift."

Taggert didn't give any overt sign he heard but for a flinch around his eyes that made Raven want to smack the old man.

Abruptly, the old wolf leaned forward, caught a scent, and inhaled. His head jerked up, and he whirled on her. "You claimed his blood."

Raven relaxed her tense body, half expecting him to spring at her throat. "His life was threatened. He was under my care. I took measures to ensure his safety. The methods I chose were my decision."

The wolf didn't move as he continued to stare. Without a word, he resumed his seat. There was something in his eyes. Respect or foolishness, she wasn't sure.

"That might explain this one, but what about Durant." The cat's green eyes had been staring at her unblinking, his feet up on the dais until then. Now, he pinned her under his gaze like she were prey.

She studied the group of people before her. This was much more than a request for Taggert. This was an inquisition, and she stepped into it without warning.

The trick pissed her off. "What does my petition have to do with Durant?"

Trying not to leap to conclusions, feeling like she was called to the carpet to be reprimanded, she battled with the sudden suspicions that they wanted to take Durant away from her.

Unacceptable.

"Indulge us."

"No." Raven didn't even hesitate. "My decisions are my own. Durant is mine, claimed by blood."

And she had no intention of releasing him. A slight murmur ran through the crowd at her blunt refusal. More people paid attention to her conversation than conducting their own business.

The cat straightened. "Durant is-"

"Not part of my petition. If you have any questions, you can direct them to me at a later time where we can discuss your concerns in private."

"She's right." Donaldson brushed away the rest of the protests. "Any objections to her claim?"

A brush of magic curled around her much like walking into a mess of cobwebs. The practitioner spoke, a ruthlessness in her tone. "I don't have an objection, but I do have a stipulation. Spend one week at the coven after the conclave ends, and you may keep your wolf."

The sudden silence in the room was deafening. Even the stoic Donaldson appeared alarmed by the request. Then he sent her a pointed look and raised an eyebrow as if daring Raven to accept the challenge. The paranormal community had a long memory. To them, a few hundred years was not enough time to dull the harsh truth of their dual past. Magic users had enslaved shifters as familiars to escape the consequences of expending too much magic in a short amount of time by using the animals as proxy.

The truce between all races was shaky at best. She suspected the only thing holding it together was the humans. They needed to provide a united front against them. If the truce failed, the humans would have them declared monsters and hunted.

"I will agree." She held up a hand when Taggert whispered her name. Even if he managed to survive the last few weeks of his five-year term as a slave, the witch would make sure Taggert would either be claimed by someone else or killed long before then. "But only if you agree that my stay will be as your personal guest."

The witch narrowed her spooky eyes. There was only one reason she could think that they wanted her. They must smell magic on her. Practitioners were possessive of magic, fewer people were born with the gift every year. When one was found, they claimed the person as their own...if they were willing or not.

Raven felt cornered and didn't care for it one bit. But there was a dangerous lure to their proposal as well. What if they could teach her how to use her powers? Or maybe more importantly, what if they couldn't?

The witch finally gave a regal nod. "Very well."

She walked toward Taggert and cupped the collar. Raven didn't know what was supposed to happen, but nothing wasn't it. A frown creased the witch's face, and she closed her eyes. Magic thickened the air, clogging her lungs like breathing through water.

A tremor rocked the witch's long, boney fingers. By the time the lock disengaged, the witch was pail and sweaty. Taggert dropped to his knees, not looking much better, and Raven locked her legs to keep from going to him.

"There was no need to harm him. I gave my word."

The witch's eyes darkened. That was when Raven understood. The witch knew someone had tampered with the collar.

"You owe me one week." The witch whirled and stalked back toward the dais, her long, multicolored skirt swaying with her agitated movements.

Raven wondered if she'd overstepped and created an enemy.

Chapter Twenty-eight.

There was no time to celebrate Taggert's emancipation. They had a rave to attend. Lights of the city glowed in the distance, leaving the area with a wide-open feeling of being exposed. The closest cover was the old steel factory two hundred yards away. Music reverberated in the air, the pounding of the bass sounded like tribal drums calling warriors to battle. Energy poured off the place, a powder keg just ready for the match.

Raven just hoped she wasn't the flame.

Griffin stood at her side, his expression impassive.