Lupi 06 - Blood Magic

me if he wants to know more."
    "Should I look inscrutable?"
    "You might have to settle for clueless."
    He grinned around a mouthful of beans he'd raised to incinerator levels with the addition of extra jalapenos. "I can do clueless. You going to deal me in if he does call?"
    "I will. As much as I can, anyway. Dammit, I want to say more," she said, frustrated beyond words. "I can't."
    "Guess the muckety-mucks have you muzzled."
    She grimaced. "You could say that." Though the muckety-mucks responsible for her muzzling weren't with the FBI, as T.J. assumed. She was afraid they were a lot bigger and badder than that.
    Who could have crafted a treaty that was literally unbreakable even for dragons? One that could be passed down through blood or magical inheritance?
    Old Ones. Beings who could pass for gods if they wished. Lily's hands felt clammy. For the first time she thought maybe she shouldn't push, shouldn't fight against bonds placed on her without her consent. These waters were deeper and more turbulent than she could conceive.
    But she didn't know if she could stop pushing. Like an animal chewing off its leg to escape a trap, Rule had said. It was a good analogy. She just wasn't sure she could do anything different.
    T.J. dragged a bite of tortilla around his plate, mopping up the last of the sauce, ate that, and burped happily before wiping his face almost as clean as his plate. "Damn good enchiladas. Mine are better, but those were damn good."
    "I know you grill, but enchiladas?" She shook her head. "Pull the other one."
    "Naw, I'm not messing with you. Camille and me have a deal. After my time-out, I had to learn to cook. Got pretty good at it after a while."
    "Your time-out?"
    He grinned. "You've still got the instinct. Yeah, about ten years in she gave me a time-out for bad behavior."
    "Why? What did you do?"
    "You're sure nosy all of a sudden."
    "I've always been nosy. Humor me, okay?"
    He shrugged. "Mostly it was just stupidity, me trying to keep the job from touching her, thinking she couldn't understand, all that crap most of us pull."
    "She moved out?"
    "More like she handed me my hat and pointed to the door. She claims she had to get my attention. Guess she was right, but it took three months of cold suppers and a cold bed for me to stop being pissed long enough to start hearing what she said." He tilted his head. "You've got something on your mind."
    "I'm just... well." She drummed her fingers. What was it exactly she wanted to know? "You might say I'm gathering data."
    He snorted. "Pretty sure that isn't what I'd say, but you can, if you want."
    "Why did you and Camille get married instead of just living together? Was it because that's what people expected?"
    "Helluva question. If you want kids, you want them to have your name, don't you? Well, I guess that's a man's perspective, so you... shit. You're not. You are not pregnant."
    He'd made it an order. She couldn't help grinning. "No, I'm not." On impulse, she pulled out the chain that held the toltoi and her engagement ring.
    "Son of a bitch. You broke up with that Turner guy? You're getting married? Who to?"
    "I'm still with the Turner guy. I'm going to marry him."
    "Son of a bitch."
    "I think you're supposed to say congratulations."
    "This'll be a real marriage? The whole deal?" He waved his fork in circles, as if to indicate what a "whole deal" looked like.
    "A real marriage. License, rings, vows, till-death-do-us-part."
    "Son of a bitch."
    "We're keeping it quiet until Rule can hold a press conference. You know what those vultures are like. I don't want to dodge idiots asking about my honeymoon plans while I'm working this case, so don't tell anyone in the department."
    "That bunch of gossips. Hell, no, I won't breathe a word. I'll just let 'em know I know something I'm not telling. It'll drive them crazy." He paused to savor the prospect. "You going to go public with this soon?"
    "As soon as possible." Lily wasn't sure why she'd told T.J., except that he was a friend and she was tired of not telling people. She glanced at her ring, and reluctantly slid it back inside her shirt. Soon, she told herself. But T.J. couldn't really help with her basic question. His generation had married automatically. You fell in love, you got married, period. Unless you were a hippie. T.J. hadn't been a hippie.
    Camille had. Maybe she should talk to Camille.
    Later. Right now she'd better get moving. "When you talk to Zhou," she began. And stopped, staring at the