Munro (Immortals After Dark #18) by Kresley Cole

            It was Munro. My face melting—

            His eyes flashed open, his heart pounding. Where the hell was he? He frowned down at his ringing phone and turned off the alarm.

            Then he registered his mate’s scent. Kereny was close by. Safe. He lumbered to his feet and sneaked a glance through the bedroom door. She lay on her side, her lips parted.

            So vulnerable. So mortal.

            Had he actually promised to take her back into the Cursed Forest? He’d barely gotten her out alive the first time.

            He dragged himself away, closed the door, then headed downstairs. The nymphs had left a pot of coffee warming. Bless them. As the rain poured outside, he filled a cup.

            He’d just taken his first sip when he received a call from his king.

            Lachlain skipped the greetings. “You’ve been busy, friend.”

            “What have you heard?”

            “Madadh briefed me on everything he knows. I’m glad you got yourself and your men free, since your king could do fuck-all for you. Thanks to Nïx.”

            “Loa told me the Valkyrie is working with the Forgotten. Strange bedfellows.”

            “Nïx wants a warlock sphere to cover this planet to protect us from the Møriør.”

            “Why is the Ever-Knowing One concerned about them? She can foresee their every move and direct our alliance to defeat them.”

            “We’ve learned that Orion the Undoing—the Møriør’s leader—can see the weakness in anything. Any fortress, any battle plan, any warrior. Even Nïx’s own weaknesses. A type of foresight in itself,” Lachlain said. Munro pictured the king sitting by a window at Kinevane Castle, gazing out at the Highlands with a thoughtful look on his face.

            “The Ever-Knowing’s alliance versus the Undoing’s should be an epic matchup,” Munro said. “But this pits our clan against Darach Lyka. Do we no’ owe our loyalty to the alpha of us all?” Loyalty was the Lykae way.

            “No’ while he’s following the lead of someone else. If the Møriør want to subjugate us, we’ll have to fight. Primordial alpha or no.”

            “Agreed,” Munro said, but not without regret.

            Lachlain had only recently escaped the Vampire Horde’s torture beneath the streets of Paris. They’d burned him alive for a hundred and fifty years. After so many ages of hungering for war, now Munro wanted peace—for his king, for his pack, and for himself and his new mate.

            “Garreth and Lucia are out scouting for information on other Møriør members. I’ll let you know more details as they uncover them.”

            “Good. I’m curious about our enemies,” Munro said. “And about my brother as well. I’ve heard Will and Chloe are solid.”

            When the two of them had set off for Conall, Munro hadn’t known which scenario terrified him more: Will ruining his matehood—or healing because of it. Munro had lain awake wondering, If they make a fresh start, what will I do with myself?

            It was an unworthy thought, and one that shamed him, but the truth was that he’d lived for his brother for centuries. The prospect of living for himself had daunted him—until he’d found his mate.

            “Rest easy, friend, the two of them are fine. Better than,” Lachlain said. “Is this the longest you’ve ever gone without watching over him?”

            “Aye.” Munro had now heard from three people he trusted that Will was good, yet he still couldn’t quite believe it. Have to see it for myself. “Do you think he’ll find Nïx?” Munro needed Will scope-locked on Jels—not the soothsayer.

            “Only if she wants to be found. So what’s your plan now?”

            “Turn my mate immortal.” Munro relayed the highlights of his quest, his battle of wills with Kereny over her species, and his potential new ambassador gig, finishing with, “So now we’re waiting for information and a ride to Dacia.”

            Waiting. Whenever Munro had a goal, the warrior in him needed to be out fighting for it, yet he was stymied here.