Wolf with Benefits

CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

The unfamiliar ring of his in-room phone woke Ricky up the next morning. He’d managed to get a few hours’ sleep the previous night, but it hadn’t been easy. His body was still on New York time, but he had a job to do. So Ricky picked up the still-ringing phone off the receiver.

“Yep?”

“Ready to face the day?”

Ricky growled. “You are too damn cheery.”

Vic laughed. “See you in thirty?”

“Yeah. That’ll work.”

“We’ll go get breakfast down in the restaurant.”

Ricky grunted, sounding a little like his daddy at that moment, and hung up the phone. He took a shower and put on black jeans, black T-shirt, black boots, and secured a holstered .45 semi-auto to the back of his jeans that Vic had given him when he’d arrived in Russia. He pulled a denim jacket on to hide the weapon and left his room to go over to Toni’s. He knocked but there was no answer. He knocked again.

By now, Vic was standing next to him.

“Nothing?” he asked.

“Nope.” Ricky looked down one end of the hall, then the other. When he didn’t see anyone around, he leaned in, pressed his nose against the doorjamb, and sniffed.

Ricky stepped back. “She’s in there.”

Vic reached into the back pocket of his jeans and pulled out a keycard.

“Had an extra for her room made?”

“Yep.”

Vic was just reaching for the door when it opened from the inside. The two males instinctively reared back, but Toni only smiled.

“Sorry I took so long to get to the door. I just got out of the shower a few minutes ago.”

Dressed in blue jeans, sexy, knee-high brown boots with three-inch heels, and a plain white T-shirt, Toni motioned both men in. “I’m almost done,” she said.

“Okay.” Ricky closed the door. “Vic suggested we get breakfast downstairs in the dining room.”

“Sounds good,” she said from inside the bathroom, the door open. “The room service was good, too.”

She stepped back into the room with a towel. Her hair was dripping wet, thick curls reaching past her shoulders, bangs in front of her eyes. “Did you both sleep well?”

“Yep,” Ricky replied.

She smiled—appearing much more relaxed than she had been last night—bent at the waist, and flipped her hair over. While Toni proceeded to carefully squeeze the water out of her hair with the towel, Vic bumped Ricky’s shoulder with his own. When Ricky glanced over, Vic motioned to the bedroom door with a jerk of his head.

Ricky looked behind him, his eyes immediately widening at what he saw. And what he saw was paw marks on the back of the door. As if a wild animal had been locked in a room and unable to get out.

Disgusted, Ricky returned his attention to Toni. She stood straight, shook her hair. The curls were shorter now, getting curlier as her hair became drier.

“Okay. I’m ready.” She threw the towel back into the bathroom and grabbed a small backpack and thick file folder from her bed. She walked to the door, pulling it open with her free hand.

“What happened to the back of the door?” Ricky asked her.

“Huh?” Toni asked, eyes wide as if she didn’t know what he was talking about. She continued to keep moving, saying nothing more.

“Going to say it now?” Vic asked him.

“No. I’m not.” He pointed at the hybrid. “I know it’ll be impossible for a bear-tiger freak of nature to understand, but although every dog may be a canine, not every canine is a dog.”

“Did you get that from your college Logic one-oh-one class?”

“Maybe.”

“Come on, guys,” Toni called from the hallway. “Let’s go. I’ve got a lot of work to get done today.”

“Just leave it,” Ricky warned the hybrid. “She’s fine.”

“If you say so.”

“Watch that tone, son.”

Vic chuckled and walked out of the room; Ricky followed.

Still disgusted.

She saw the girl, Delilah Jean-Louis Parker, sitting on the steps in front of that church. She couldn’t be more than eighteen or nineteen, but Miss Parker was strikingly beautiful.

It was extremely late when she sat down beside the girl. Glancing over her shoulder, she realized that Parker wasn’t alone. At least three men, probably members of the church—or cult, depending on whom you talked to—were standing in the shadows, there to protect Parker.

That was all right. She had her own backup.

“Hi,” she finally said to the girl. She knew she had a “warm way about her” as it said in her evaluations. It was something she used to her benefit.

“Hello.” Parker looked at her. She had a soft smile and dead eyes.

“I got your message through our mutual friend and we are definitely interested.”

“Okay.”

“We’re willing to pay you—”

“I want a million. In this account in the Cayman Islands.” She handed over a piece of paper with numbers on it. “Get me that and I’ll give you what I have.”

“A million? That seems . . . substantial. For something we’re not even sure will work.”

“A million or you get nothing.”

“Look, Miss Jean-Louis Parker—”

“Gasp,” Parker said flatly. “How do you know my name? Oh, no. If you know my name . . . you know where I live. What will I do now? The horror. The horror.” Parker leaned in a bit. “Is that what you wanted to hear? Was that the reaction you needed?”

A girl this one might be, but smart. And cold. Ice fucking cold.

“I’ll talk to my superiors, Miss Parker.”

Parker gave a little shrug, her small, misleading smile still in place. “Okay.”

Tucking the piece of paper into her jeans pocket, she stood and walked down the steps and out onto the street. She walked a block until her team picked her up. She got into the Town Car and closed the door.

“Well?”

“Snotty little slit.”

“We know where she lives.”

“Strong-arming this girl isn’t going to work. Not with this one.”

“Then what do you want to do?”

“We’ll see if we can find it on our own.”

“And if we can’t?”

She thought back on her superior’s excitement when she’d shown him the information one of her contacts had sent her. “Then we give the bitch what she wants.”

Although Toni had been to Russia before—several times, in fact—she’d never been this far outside a major city. She’d never been to Siberia.

And Siberia was, in a word, astounding.

So lush and green. Not at all what Toni expected.

“Beautiful, isn’t it?” Barinov asked as he glanced at her in the rearview.

“It is. I guess I expected—”

“A snow-covered wilderness?”

“It’s Siberia.”

“There’s summertime here, too. It’s actually kind of extra hot for this time of year. Nearly sixty-five Fahrenheit when I checked this morning.” Considering Toni had just left what she considered the oppressive heat of the East Coast, she had to chuckle a little.

The drive took a good thirty minutes until they reached the location where they’d be meeting with the bears. A ridiculously large . . . well . . . palace. Yeah. It was a palace. Not a mansion. Not a castle. A palace.

“Good Lord,” Ricky muttered.

Barinov chuckled. “This is the house—”

“House?” Toni asked, incredulous.

“—that belongs to whoever is currently running this town. And for the last century and a half, that’s been the Zubachevs.”

“Why do I know that name?” Ricky asked, yawning and taking off his cap to scratch his head.

“Lots of Zubachevs in the States, a bunch of them in Maine. Like my mother’s family, they’re from Kamchatka.”

“Lovely.” Ricky put his hat back on his head. “Just lovely.”

“What’s wrong?” Toni asked.

Barinov shrugged. “Kamchatka bears kind of hate—”

“Canines,” Ricky filled in. “They hate us a lot. Wolf. Jackal. Wild dog. Foxes. Doesn’t matter the breed or where you fall in the genetic line, if you’ve even got a bit of canine blood in you, they hate you.”

Barinov pulled to a stop in front of the palace. “It’s called the one-eighth rule.”

“The one-eighth rule?”

“If there’s more than one-eighth canine blood in a shifter, Kamchatka bears consider them canines.”

“And let’s face it,” Ricky said, grinning at her, “we all know there’s a little canine in everybody.”

She rolled her eyes but couldn’t help smiling. Such a goofball, this guy.

“Any special instructions before we get out of this car?” Ricky asked Barinov.

“Yeah. No sudden movements. Even if there aren’t any grizzlies within a mile of you, no sudden movements. None of them will like you, just accept that now. And all of them hate Novikov.”

“That boy sure has made a name for himself.”

“It’s not his fault,” Toni felt the need to remind them, since she was sure that one day she’d be having the same conversation about any or all of her siblings. “When you’re the best at what you do, it’s hard to remember there are other human beings standing right next to you.”

Ricky turned, rested his arm on the back of his seat. “How long have you been practicing that speech?”

“Since Kyle was six. Only this time I didn’t add, ‘it’s hard to remember there are other human beings standing right next to you, Senator’ or ‘your honor’ or ‘Mr. Prosecutor.’ ”

“The thing you need to keep in mind, Miss Parker—”

“Just call me Toni.”

“That’s Toni with an ‘i,’ ” Ricky felt the need to explain. “Not a ‘y.’ ”

“Right. Well, what you need to keep in mind, Toni, is that no matter what the bears here say, all they care about is keeping their territory safe, playing hockey, and making money off hockey. Keep that in mind, and you should be just fine.”

The front doors to the palace opened and very large males began to walk through those double doors. Toni had assumed the double doors were there just to look fancy; now she realized they needed to be there to allow males that wide to enter and exit the building.

Toni nodded and reached for the door handle. By the time she was stepping out of the car, Ricky was there, his hand pressed into the small of her back.

“No matter what,” he told her, “just remember I’m here. Vic is here. You’re not on your own, darlin’.”

“I know that,” she said honestly. “Because otherwise I would have made a wild run for the woods by now. Jackals are brave when our pups are around, but we’re not stupid.”

Toni headed up the stairs with Barinov leading the way. He spoke in Russian to the bear standing at the top of the stairs, a grizzly who was surrounded by a bunch of other bears that ranged from grizzly to black to polar to speckled.

“Ivan Zubachev,” Vic finally said in English, “this is Antonella—”

Zubachev cut Vic off with an angry snarl. “That American bitch, Malone,” he grumbled in an impossibly low voice, “sent this dog to talk to Yuri Asanov. Greatest hockey coach to ever live?”

Toni fought the urge to roll her eyes. She had to agree with Kyle. She simply did not understand the love of sports.

Instead of pointing that out, she said, “Miss Malone apologizes for being unable to attend, but she had a prior—”

“I don’t want to hear! Your mere presence insults this team. Insults Yuri Asanov. Go, pet doggy. No one wants to talk to you.”

“Wait a minute.” Toni couldn’t believe what she was hearing. “I do understand you’re upset about this, Mr. Zubachev. But I am authorized to negotiate with Mr. Asanov and the team.”

The bear glowered down at her. He had to be at least eight feet tall while human. She didn’t even want to imagine how big his bear form was.

His lip curling, he growled, “I hear dog barking . . . but it means nothing to me.” He gestured with his hand. “Go, little dog. Go play in next town with other dogs. There’s no place for you here.”

With one last glower, Zubachev turned on his heel and stalked off. The rest of the bears followed him.

Rage ripped through Toni’s system. She heard roaring in her ears. And as she saw those double doors begin to close, the proverbial leash she’d always used to keep herself calm in any situation snapped.

Ricky stared at the empty spot where Toni had been standing. Usually he reacted quickly in dangerous situations, but he had to admit he just never expected anyone to suddenly bolt after bears. Away from bears, yes. But after?

“Fuck,” Vic snarled. The hybrid charged up the stairs after her, but by the time he got to the doors, they were shut in his face and locked.

“Can we kick in the door?” Ricky asked as he ran up behind Vic.

“This palace was built by bears just before the Russian civil war hit Siberia in 1918. And none of the things that happened in the rest of Siberia happened here, because no one could get past the bears who guard this territory or their incredibly strong wooden doors.”

“We can’t just leave her in there.”

“I don’t think we have a choice.” Vic shrugged. “But her mangled body should be tossed out here anytime now.”

Ricky gawked at the man. “Not. Helping.”

Toni was aware that hands were grabbing for her as she moved around unbelievably large men to reach her goal. But she was fast and she was scrappy, so she ignored those hands until she’d gotten to the front of the group and jumped in front of Ivan Zubachev.

She stopped and held out her arm, palm out. “Hold it just a second, Poppa Bear.”

Zubachev did stop walking, but his expression suggested he wouldn’t wait for long.

“You’d do well to move from my way, little, tiny dog.”

“I thought I was here to talk business.”

“That cat bitch was supposed to come. And yet she is not here, but you are. I don’t talk to dog.”

He started to move forward so Toni took several steps back, her arm still held out. “You don’t want to talk to dogs? Do you think I want to talk to you? Do you think I’m comfortable around human beings this large? I’m not. But I have a job to do, so I sucked it up and I came here. And now you won’t even talk to me. How is that acceptable?”

“I don’t talk to dog,” he repeated, and Toni knew he was serious. He was not going to talk to her simply because she was canine.

Bigots!

So if the bear was going to be as difficult as all stubborn bears could be, then Toni was going to be as difficult as all dogs could be.

“Leave by door,” the bear said, walking around her with the others following. She watched them all lumber by and, once they were a healthy distance away, Toni yipped. Several times.

The bears stopped. Zubachev covered his ears, spun to face her.

“What is that noise?” he bellowed.

“That’s how jackals talk. I’m a jackal, not a dog. Dogs bark. Jackals yip.”

“Well, stop it!”

Toni shook her head. “No.”

She yipped again.

Zubachev dropped his hands to his sides and took an angry stepped forward. “Stop it,” he ordered. “Or we make you stop.”

“You’d have to catch me first, and I can assure you . . . jackals are way faster than bears. Because we have to be. And this place you have”—she raised her arms and spun in a circle—“has wonderful acoustics. I can hide all over the place and just make this noise all . . . day . . . long.”

Then she began yipping and yipping and yipping.

Ricky and Vic pulled away from the door.

“Good God, what is that noise?” the hybrid demanded.

“That’s the soothing sounds of your local jackal.”

“Are they cries for help?”

“Nope.” Ricky shook his head. “Just her saying ‘hi.’ ”

Vic’s eyes narrowed. “It makes me want to kill.”

And that’s what was worrying Ricky. Especially when he heard the distinctive angry roar of bears coming from inside the building.

“She’s going to get herself killed,” Vic warned.

Ricky stepped back and studied the front of the building. “Come on. We’ve gotta find a way in.”

“Make her stop!” a polar screamed at Zubachev in Russian. She knew what he was saying only because he used phrases that one of Coop’s piano teachers, a great player from Moscow, had used. Usually just before the man whacked her brother’s hand with the riding crop he kept on him at all times. Toni had let that go the first time it happened, but the second time he’d done it, she’d decked the prick and that had been the end of her brother’s relationship with that particular piano teacher.

Zubachev tried to grab Toni, but she was, as she’d said, too fast for him. Plus, unlike many canines, she’d taught herself to climb when she was eight because a rich cub from the Pride near their home had told her dogs couldn’t climb. Toni had felt it was her duty to prove all cats wrong.

So she now stood comfortably on top of one of the big statues lining the marble hallway.

“You know how to stop me, Ivan.”

The grizzly glowered up at her.

“You know how to stop me,” she repeated. When he still didn’t reply, she began to howl for her siblings. It was a sound that her family always found soothing. It meant that someone was there to watch out for you, to care for you. Others, though—like bears, lions, hyenas, cheetahs, leopards, et al.—found the sound so painfully annoying that they couldn’t get away from jackals fast enough.

“Fine!” Zubachev roared, and she could tell saying that clearly pained him. Which, Toni would privately admit, she kind of enjoyed.

She stopped howling, and Zubachev said, “I will talk to Yuri about meeting with you about bastard freak.”

“That’s all I ask.”

“But you will not make that noise again.”

“Okay.”

“Because it annoys.”

“I know. It is annoying.” Then again, so were bears being bigots.

Ivan pointed at a black bear. Toni felt kind of bad for that bear. Height-wise he was considerably smaller than the grizzlies and polars. But width-wise . . . he was built like a mountain. “Help the canine down.”

“I can do it.” And she did, moving expertly down the statue until she was on the ground.

She stared up at the bear. “So what’s next?”

“This way, little dog.”

“Or you could just call me Toni.”

“Could. Won’t.”

Deciding not to argue the point, she followed the group down the giant hall. It reminded her of Versailles in France with its stately marble floors and floor-to-ceiling mirrors lining the entire hallway. Everything was ornate but a little too much for her taste. But as they began walking, Ricky and Barinov came charging out of one of the large rooms, their weapons drawn.

The room the two males emerged from was on the other side of the house, so they must have run around the very wide palace to get to it so quickly.

“Are you all right?” Ricky asked her. For once she didn’t see a smirk on his face but true concern.

“I’m fine.” But just as she said that, her phone vibrated. Another text. Sighing, Toni dug her phone out of the back of her jeans. It was from her mother.

Question . . . did you tell Novikov he could change the flooring? In our RENTAL house?

Toni didn’t even know what the hell that meant. And why was her mother asking that question so late at night? Late for New York time anyway because it wasn’t even four in the morning there. And what the hell was going on back there? Why were they all being so ridiculous?

“Toni?”

She looked up at Ricky. “What?”

“Your neck is getting all red.”

Toni rubbed her hand across her throat. “Oh. That. Yeah. That happens sometimes.”

“Can I help?”

“No one can help.” She shoved her phone back into her jeans. “Let’s just get this done.”

Maybe, just maybe, if she could get through this negotiation quickly, she could catch a flight later tonight and get home before her entire family imploded.

Yes. Excellent plan.

Toni faced Zubachev. “Let’s get this going, Mr. Zubachev.”

He nodded and again headed off down the hall. They all followed until he reached a room. He stepped inside and waited for Toni, Ricky, and Barinov to follow. Once they were in the room, he said, “Wait here.”

Zubachev walked out, closing the door behind him. The three of them stared at each other until, with a shrug, they all took seats on the available chairs and couch. And they sat in that room for nearly three hours before Zubachev returned.

He looked at Toni. “Come back tomorrow. Nine in morning.”

Then he walked out.

Shocked, Toni stared at where the bear had been, but Barinov stood up and asked them, “Hungry? Because I’m starving.”

“Wait. Is that it?”

“Until tomorrow.”

“I don’t understand. Why am I not meeting Asanov today?”

“Could be lots of reasons.” Barinov thought a moment. “But chances are they’re just making you wait.”

He headed toward the door, and Toni scrambled out of the chair. “But they’ll see me tomorrow, right?”

Barinov faced her. Shrugged. “Probably. Maybe. It’s possible.”

Ricky gazed down at her. “Darlin’, your neck’s gettin’ red again.”

In the early morning, the sun barely up, Bo Novikov stood in the backyard of the jackal family’s rental home.

It was a really nice place. Good for kids. Well, good for most kids. Not these kids. These kids were demons from the pits of hell.

Bo liked them.

Especially Kyle. That kid had a great future as an amazing artist . . . or he would one day be poisoned by a mate. Either one was possible.

Still, Bo had not done what he’d set out to do. Not yet. He hadn’t gotten the schedule for these kids set up. He had to admit, he’d thought it would be easy. Blayne had tried to warn him. She said it would be like working with ten little Bos. As always . . . she’d been right. Well, actually nine little Bos. One of the pups, the eighteen-year-old that everyone got quiet around whenever she breezed through the room, didn’t need a schedule. She said she had classes but doing what or with whom, Bo had no idea and he didn’t really care.

But the others . . . the others all had classes. Even the three-year-olds. The twins would be going to Berlitz next week to learn more languages. They’d already cursed at Bo in German, Russian, and Cantonese. Three languages he knew a bit because he’d been cursed at in those languages by players he’d gone up against over the years. In fact, Bo could curse in almost all languages for that simple reason.

Yet negotiating the busy schedules of nine pups with one extremely busy parent and one not-so-busy parent was a lot harder than he’d thought it would be, exactly because those nine kids had Bo’s drive. They didn’t want to give an inch. They didn’t care that if they went to a later-in-the-day advanced class in whatever their specialty was, their siblings could easily go to their earlier-in-the-day advanced class. They didn’t care that if they gave a little, the entire family would be better off. All they cared about was having time to do what they loved and what they were good at.

Yeah. Bo admired that, but it sure did make things harder. Too bad for the brats that Bo had made a commitment, and once he made a commitment, that was all that mattered to him. So he wasn’t giving up, no matter when Toni came back. Although Toni’s mother, Jackie, had heard from her daughter and it looked as if her trip would take a little longer than Toni had planned. Maybe Bo should have warned her that negotiating with Russians was one of the harder—and more entertaining—things one could do in life. Bear or full-human, Russians were tough negotiators.

Bo heard rustling from nearby bushes. He turned in time to see one of the Parker kids crawl out. Hands, face, and the knees of his jeans covered in dirt, the little boy stood up but froze when he saw Bo standing there.

“What were you doing?” Bo asked the boy.

“Um . . . digging?”

“Are you asking me or telling me?”

The boy stepped closer. “It depends if you’ll tell on me.”

“Where you burying a body?”

Eyes wide, the boy shook his head. “No, sir.”

“Then there’s nothing to tell.”

A huge smile now on his face, the boy said, “I’m Freddy.”

“The seven-year-old.”

“Right.”

“Did you bury something important, Freddy?”

“Important to me.”

“That’s all that matters.”

“I only bury things that are important to me.”

“Why?”

“I believe it has a lot to do with my canine ancestry.”

“Like when a dog buries a bone?”

“Exactly! Toni doesn’t like that example but it seems the most accurate scientifically.”

Jeez. Bo kept forgetting exactly how smart these kids were because it never occurred to him to analyze the fact that he liked walrus blubber jerky or that he had to constantly fight his desire to sleep all day until Blayne brought him dinner.

The boy studied him for a moment, then asked, “Don’t you mind being here?”

“No.”

“Is that because you’re a lot like Kyle?”

That made Bo smirk. “No.”

Freddy walked over to Bo until he stood only a few inches away and gazed up at him. Then he waited. At least that’s what it felt like. As if the kid were waiting for something. Bo didn’t know what but it felt weird just standing there, so he said, “You’re up kind of early.”

“Not for me.”

After that statement, the kid said nothing else but continued to stare. Finally, Bo couldn’t take it anymore.

“Is there something you want to ask me, Freddy?”

“Can I stand on your shoulders?”

“What?”

“Can I stand on your shoulders? Just for a minute or so.”

“Why?”

“I want to know what it’s like to be tall.”

Bo was about to explain that the chances of a jackal being as tall as him—a lion-polar bear hybrid—were impossible but decided against it. In fact, he could actually hear Blayne in his head telling him not to tell Freddy that. So, Bo instead crouched down and held his arm out. The boy grabbed it with both hands and Bo lifted him, placing his small feet on his shoulders. When he had the boy secure, Bo’s hands wrapped tightly around Freddy’s ankles, Bo stood tall.

“Wooooooow,” Freddy sighed out. “I can see the entire world from here.”

That made Bo grin a bit.

“I bet you love being this tall, Mr. Novikov.”

“I don’t mind. It makes it easier to find Blayne in a crowd. She tends to bop around when she walks. Like she’s on springs or something. So I just look for the top of her head to suddenly appear and I can usually track her down in a timely manner.”

“I like Blayne. She smiles a lot.”

“She does.”

“And she’s good at keeping me calm.”

“That’s very important for you, isn’t it, Freddy?”

“It is. Otherwise I do things I’m not supposed to. Toni’s excellent at keeping me calm but Blayne’s good at it too.”

Of course, Blayne’s calming abilities probably came from the years of anger management classes she’d been forced to go to—usually by court order.

Bo didn’t know how long the pair stood there, but it was a nice, easy way to start the day.

“Bo?”

Hearing his fiancée’s voice, Bo glanced over at Blayne. “Hey. What’s up?”

“Everything all right?”

“Just staring at the world,” he replied.

Grinning, Blayne walked over, clapped her hands together, and held her arms out to Freddy. “Your mom is looking for you, Fredster.”

“Okay.”

The boy leaped from Bo’s shoulders and into Blayne’s arms. Thankfully, Blayne was on a derby team, so she managed to easily catch Freddy and not fall on her ass even though he was leaping from such a great height.

She placed Freddy on the ground, and he charged toward the back door. “Thank you, Mr. Novikov!”

“You’re welcome.”

Blayne smiled up at Bo.

“What?”

“I’m just so—”

“Is there a reason you came out here,” he cut in before she could tell him once again how proud she was he had managed to not kill any of the Parker children, “or was it just to make sure I hadn’t stomped on the small ones?”

“I’ve said it before and I’ll say it again. You don’t always watch where you walk. But that’s not why I’m out here.”

Bo sighed. “Then why?”

Taking Bo’s hand, Blayne led her mate and future husband back into the Jean-Louis Parker house and to the ballroom on the first floor. Right where Kyle had had workers set up a giant block of white marble. And standing right by that were an arguing Kyle, Troy, and Oriana. Those three argued all the time. Really. All. The. Time.

“You are such a little shit, Kyle!” Oriana yelled at her brother.

“I need the space!” Kyle barked back.

“So do I!”

“What about me?” Troy demanded.

“You do equations,” Oriana reminded her brother. “What could you possibly need all this space for?”

“Wall space. So I can put up my equations,” he said, his hand gesturing down the long hall, “and see them in one long stream.”

“You’re an idiot,” Oriana sighed. “Just a big-headed idiot.”

“And you’re an uptight little—”

“That’s it,” Bo cut in, impressing Blayne with his no-nonsense approach to children cursing at each other. “Enough of this.”

“You might as well forget it, Novikov,” Kyle said, rocking back on sneakers that lit up when he walked, reminding Blayne that this confident little kid was only eleven. “The workmen have already gone. So the marble stays put.”

Bo snorted. “Really?”

Walking over to the enormous piece of beautiful marble that Blayne assumed Kyle was planning to whittle down into a statue, Bo gazed at it a moment. He moved around it. Then he grasped the marble from behind and, with a grunt, dragged it across the floor like he was moving a filled refrigerator.

Blayne covered her mouth with her hands when she saw that Bo was leaving deep gouges in the hardwood floor.

Once across the room, Bo released the marble and came back over to the kids. They were gawking at him, fear mixed with envy mixed with admiration.

“Do not bring any more giant pieces of marble in here, Kyle. Understand?”

“Do you know how much that weighed?” Kyle asked, still gazing.

“In fact,” he told all three, “no more trying to claim this room for yourselves. I’m taking it over for now. I need more space than the library.”

“It took ten full-humans to move that,” Troy added. “Ten.”

“Full-humans are naturally weak. You shouldn’t hold that against them.”

“We’re not,” Oriana muttered. “You’re just freaking us out.”

“Then you better not piss me off.” Bo looked at each child before asking, “Understand?”

All three nodded.

“Good. Now, I’m hungry. Let’s feed.” He walked out, winking at Blayne as he passed by.

The two boys followed after him, Kyle noting that Bo was “Magnificent.”

Oriana stopped by Blayne. “I know,” she said about her brother. “I know.”

“Well . . . Bo is magnificent.” She’d just never expected an eleven-year-old boy to be comfortable enough to say that out loud.