Bitten 2 (17 page)

Crossing my arms over my chest I replied, “I’m not sure that’s any of your concern.”

“It is if you want to speak with the pack master.”

I was about to tell him to go fuck himself when Juliet sighed and cut in, “Riley is looking into the vamp murders. Now stop being a dick and let us talk to your boss.”

A chill ran down my spine as several eyes turned in our direction, the mood in the air shifting ever so slightly. I was reminded all too keenly by the collection of assessing gazes that I was in their territory without an invitation, and weres weren’t known for being the most hospitable of creatures.

“You’re a cop?” Emmett asked with an amused snort. “And you’re what, the K-9 unit?” he added, flashing Juliet a cruel smile.

“I’m just someone trying to get paid,” I said before it came to blows. Judging by the sour look on Juliet’s elfin features, it wouldn’t take much more goading from the Scottish were before she lashed out, and I wasn’t in the mood to take on a bar full of angry weres. Her brother might have considered her to be a badass, but even if she was the next Jackie Chan, I didn’t think we’d be able to handle them all.

Emmett’s gaze lingered on me for a moment longer before he finally shrugged as if coming to some kind of decision. “Fair enough.” Hooking a thumb over his shoulder he said, “Boss is over there.”

“Thanks.”

Grinning, he popped a peanut into his mouth and slid back onto the stool by the door, looking relaxed and amused, which just seemed to irritate Juliet further. “No problem.”

Looping my arm through the petite blonde’s, I steered her away from Emmett and towards whatever other dangers were lurking in the gloom.

Damn, I need a beer.

CHAPTER FOURTEEN

IF EMMETT WAS an extra for
Braveheart
, then Yakov Pitomi was something straight out of a low-budget action flick. He sat alone at a table with a forest of empty beer bottles spread out in front of him, another clasped in a hand as large as a bear’s paw. Like Hank, Yakov was a big man, easily as wide across the shoulders as Juliet and I put together, but that was where the similarities ended. Even a mundane would have no trouble identifying him as a were, his short, wide forehead and heavy brows crowned with shaggy eyebrows hinting at the wolf beneath. Grey-streaked dark brown hair hung in a limp and greasy mass over his shoulders, adding to the rough and gritty visage.

Bloodshot eyes rose at my approach, and I had no doubt that a fierce predator lurked in their depths. I stopped a few paces away from his table as much to distance myself from the smell of body odor as to avoid being within arm’s reach of the pack master.

“You’re a long way from home, little wolf,” Yakov said to Juliet, his lips curling back in a rough travesty of a smile. “Does your big bad brother know you’ve come to play with real wolves?”

After our run-in with Emmett, I figured it wouldn’t take much to rile her. I felt, as much as saw, Juliet stiffen beside me, the facade of a petite and harmless young woman crumbling away to reveal the strong and willful creature inside. There was no visible change in her appearance, not even a shift of her eyes from ice blue to wolf gold, but there was no mistaking the spicy scent of pissed were.

Maybe I’d have been better off coming alone.

“And you,” he said, turning his eyes to me. The chair creaked beneath him as he leaned forward, his nostrils flaring. “Want to see what a real pack looks like?”

“What is with all you guys and this pack bullshit? No, I’m not scoping out your pack. I don’t want the brochure or the two penny tour. I’m not interested in joining your little Members Only gang. I just want to ask some questions and then get the hell out of here before the stink of piss and wet dog becomes impossible to wash out.”

The low murmur of conversation stopped with jarring suddenness at my words. I half expected the music to skip and scratch to a halt too. I was waiting for the screech of a dozen chairs pushing back from the tables when Yakov said, “You’ve got nerves talking to me like that.”

“Yeah, my lady balls are huge,” I said with a shrug, tempted to follow-up the sentiment by grabbing my crotch. “Now that we’ve established that, can we move on?”

Yakov continued to regard me for a long moment, no doubt deciding if my attitude deserved his anger or his respect. Thankfully, after a pause he chose the latter and gestured for me to take the seat opposite him with a hand larger than my face. “Sit, Spirited One.”

I hesitated for a second at the new moniker, and, after receiving a nod from Juliet, pulled out the chair, taking a moment to brush off the layer of dirt before sitting.

“Drink?”

Looking at the film of filth on the table and the piles of dust and dirt in the corners of the room I shook my head. “I’m good.” Juliet’s small cough and nudge against my chair had me looking at her over my shoulder and asking, “What?”

“It’s customary to share drink or food when socializing with another pack.”

“I’m not sure I’d call this socializing,” I muttered, and seeing her brow crease into a frown, rolled my eyes and added, “Fine. Whatever.”

“The guest has first choice,” she said when I made no move to order a drink.

“I’ll have whatever he’s having,” I replied, waving a hand at Yakov. Across the table he bared his teeth in the first genuine smile I’d seen since setting foot in the place, and I got the feeling I’d just made a horrible mistake.

“Luka, bring the good stuff,” he rumbled in a voice that was easily heard over the music without him having to raise his voice. A large blonde were approached the table with a prominent limp, a bottle of dark amber liquid and two marginally clean shot glasses in hand. The fall of his long hair did little to hide the ragged ruin that was one side of his face, and I had to wonder what could cause such an injury. One bright blue eye peered at me with something akin to pity as he set the bottle and glasses on the table in front of us.

When Yakov removed the cork with a loud
pop
and splashed a generous amount into each glass, just the smell was enough to make my eyes sting. I watched the thick liquid slosh over the sides of the glass onto the tabletop. When the liquor didn’t eat a hole through the table, I picked up the shot glass, raising it in a toast to our host, and then gulped it down in one go, hoping it would help minimize what was sure to be a wretched taste.

Fire raced down my throat, burning up the oxygen in my lungs in an instant, leaving me gasping like a grounded fish and trying to pin Yakov with a ferocious glare. The tears streaming down my cheeks may have lessened the effect of my stare a little.

“Smooth,” I rasped in a hoarse whisper that brought a braying chuckle from Yakov.

Asshole.

I watched in irritation as he raised his glass in a salute and said, “
Na zdraví!
” before slamming it back in a single gulp. Offering me a refill, which I declined with a brief shake of my head, he chuckled again as he filled his glass and settled back in his seat.

“Ask your questions.”

“Someone has been attacking vamps and Cordova’s not happy about it.”

“I care not about the Shepherd and his
dýchající mrtvoly
... his breathing corpses.”

“I’m sure the feeling is mutual, but it looks like the work of a were, and besides Hank’s pack and the geriatrics, yours are the only other wolves in town.”

“The Blood Brothers did not do this,” he said with ironclad surety, and for some unknown reason I was inclined to believe him.

Still I had to ask, “You sure one of your boys didn’t get it in his head to stir up a little trouble?”

“The pack does not act without my permission,” Yakov said in a growling tone, a single long and greasy fingernail tapping out a sharp tattoo on the tabletop.

Behind me, Juliet snorted.

A surge of energy radiated from Yakov at the sound, smacking me in the chest like a fist. “You question my word, little wolf?”

“I just don’t think you can trust a bunch of deserters,” she replied, her words full of some accusation I didn’t understand.

The undercurrent of conversation that had resumed after Yakov invited me to sit came to a halt once more, the mood in the room taking on a hostile edge. There was something else going on, but I didn’t have the time to figure out what it was. Glancing at Juliet over my shoulder I mouthed, “What the fuck?” before turning my attention back to Yakov. It took every ounce of self-control I had not to cower under the weight of his gaze, the gleaming gold of his eyes making me quiver with the desire to flee.

Hank’s smack of energy during our meeting at The Vine had been a thinly veiled power play, a test of sorts, that I’d thankfully been able to fight off. The energy rolling off of Yakov, however, was another story. There was no subtlety, or ulterior motive behind the power that lapped at my skin like crackling flames. Yakov was the alpha here, his will was law, and woe to anyone who dared resist him. The wolf whimpered inside, caught between the urge to roll over and expose her vulnerable underbelly, and the desire to bare her teeth in a show of strength. Trying to soothe her warring desires with a soft mental touch, I turned my attention to the situation playing out before me.

“If you
girls
are done bickering about who has the biggest dick, can we get back to the matter at hand?” I asked with as much bravado as I could muster, relieved that my voice didn’t shake.

Yakov’s eyes lingered on Juliet for several heart pounding seconds before drifting back to me. He looked like he was deciding whether or not he would rip our throats out after he’d beaten us to a bloody pulp, or just beat us to a bloody pulp and dump our bodies in the street. And then with a slow blink, his eyes shifted back to dark blue and a wide grin split his face as he laughed in loud booming guffaws. The glasses danced on the table when a massive hand slapped the tabletop and he rocked back in his chair.

“I like you, Spirited One.”

“Great. You can buy me dinner after I’ve figured out who is attacking Cordova’s people.”

“Perhaps if you know why, you will know who.”

I wanted to tell Yakov that his answer wasn’t at all helpful, but realized that he might be right. The fact that I didn’t have any idea how to figure why the vamps were being attacked left me feeling just as frustrated as before.

“Now, we drink,” Yakov declared, oblivious to my internal conundrum.

“Again?” I asked, looking to Juliet for confirmation.

The grimace on her face was answer enough. “Afraid so.”

My stomach flip-flopped while I watched Yakov refill my glass, filling it to the brim. Mirroring him, I lifted my glass to my lips and tipped it back before I could chicken out.

“
Na zdraví!
”

Fire consumed my throat once again but was followed by an almost enjoyable warmth spreading through my chest. It still tasted like turpentine and devil spit, but the warm glow in my chest and numbness in my mind were kinda nice.

I felt myself melt into my chair as I watched Yakov fill my glass for a third time.

“
Naz... dravl...
” I slurred before Yakov could say a word, downing the fiery liquid. I braced myself for the burn of it gliding down my throat, but only felt a deepening of the warmth suffusing my limbs. Rolling the glass back and forth between my fingers I watched a stray drop of golden liquid shuddering on the lip of the glass before finally sliding down the side to pool on the scarred tabletop.

“I’ll have another, bartender,” I said, offering my glass to the maniac grinning at me across the table.

“I think that’s enough,” Juliet said, plucking the glass from my fingers and setting it on the table upside down.

“But I’m enjoying a drink with my new friend,” I replied. “We are friends now, aren’t we, Yakov?”

The shaggy man’s face split into a wide grin as he nodded. “Yes, friends.”

The flare of alarm that flickered across Juliet’s face should have been a clue that I didn’t want the fearsome pack master to consider me a friend, but my mind was too addled by the strong liquor to make sense of much of anything.

Curling a small, but strong, hand around my arm, she said, “Let’s get you out of here before you end up passed out under the table. Or worse.”

“I’m watching you, Yakov,” I warned, gesturing between myself and him, my loud hiccup undermining the threat behind my words.

“I’ll be watching you, too, Spirited One,” he replied in a rough chuckle, inclining his head in the briefest of nods.

“He’s not so bad really. A bit smelly... and ugly as sin. But he’s not a total asshole like I thought,” I said to Juliet as she steered me towards the door. The thunderous bark of laughter that rang out behind us made me think that maybe I hadn’t said the last in a whisper as I’d intended.

“You and your friend need some help?” Emmett asked with a wide grin when we approached the door. “I’d be more than happy to give you a hand.”

“You can keep your damn hands to yourself,” Juliet said in a grating growl.

“There used to be a time when you’d have begged to feel my hands anywhere,” he replied, his voice dipping into a sultry croon while his eyes sparkled with mischief.