Bitten 2 (18 page)

“And there used to be a time when you had honor,” she spat back, baring her teeth in the beginnings of a snarl.

In the blink of an eye, Emmett’s expression shifted from flirtatious teasing to something far more sinister. “Watch it, little pup. The wolves here won’t put up with your smart mouth the way your brother does. He’d do well to teach you your proper place.”

I felt Juliet tense beside me, her slight frame trembling with barely repressed rage. Only my arm draped across her shoulders kept her from lunging at the smug were and wrapping her delicate looking hands around his neck.

“I think I might be sick,” I said, only half lying as I pulled her towards the door and the promise of fresh air.

“Drive safe, little pups,” Emmett called after us.

I had no doubt that Hank had been right about his sister being able to handle herself; I just wished he’d mentioned her fiery temper. Then again, I supposed I didn’t have much room to talk, considering my own proclivity to lash out first and ask questions later.

The cold air was like a smack in the face when we stepped out onto the street, and I felt much of the haziness in my mind evaporate in the watery blink of an eye, though the queasiness remained.

“Well,
that
was interesting,” I said, wincing when the door slammed shut behind us.

Juliet made a noncommittal sound in reply, her jaw still set in a stiff line and her eyes gleaming with a faraway look of anger. Approaching her car, I released my grip on the waif of a woman and slid down to rest my ass on the hood, the cold of the metal leeching through my jeans to chill my backside.

“God, that stuff’s lethal,” I groaned, smacking my numbed lips.

“I’m amazed you’re still standing,” she said, emerging from her anger long enough to flash me a rueful smile. “Normally one shot is enough for even the biggest of men.”

“What about Yakov? He looked like he could drink the stuff all day,” I said, squinting at my hand to make the double vision go away. At least the fire in my gut had died down to a low simmer and I didn’t feel like I might paint the sidewalk.

“He probably could,” she shrugged. “He’s practically been pickled by the stuff. Luckily, with our enhanced metabolisms the effects don’t last long.”

She was right—my drunkenness was already subsiding, leaving a dull throb behind my eyes in its wake. Rubbing a hand across my temples to ease the ache, I glanced up at Juliet, her eyes still bright with anger and her cheeks rosy.

“So... you and that Emmett guy know each other?” I asked, frowning when my words came out a little slurred. Evidently, the effects of the alcohol hadn’t completely worn off yet.

“He used to be Hank’s best friend and second.” The iciness in her voice almost made me pull my jacket tighter. So, there was more to her dislike of Emmett than simple desertion. Recalling his comment about his hands, I wondered if they had also shared a more intimate history. Either way, she didn’t look like it was a subject she wanted to discuss.

“What about the other one... Luka? Do you know him?” I asked.

Juliet’s irritation faded away, replaced by sadness, and a shadow of fear. Instead of answering, she just gave a short nod.

“What happened to him?”

“Yakov happened to him.” She seemed unwilling to say more until we were safely ensconced inside the car with the heat on full blast. “Luka used to be the pack master of the Blood Brothers, though they were the White Claw pack then. Then Yakov showed up with a few of his boys from the Czech Republic and started making trouble. It wasn’t anything Luka couldn’t handle at first, or so he thought. Yakov started bringing in drugs and girls, and promised that any wolf who joined his pack would have as much of either as they wanted. It didn’t take long for the neighborhood to go downhill after that.”

“His pack just abandoned him?”

Juliet gave a half-hearted shrug. “Luka was strong, but Yakov is stronger. Wolves will follow whoever is strongest. Luka lost the pack the minute he hesitated in killing Yakov when he first showed up.”

It was startling to hear Juliet speak in such a cold and ruthless manner, and I was reminded of how different I was from other weres.

“So what happened to the pack?”

“Some of the older weres joined us, some of them left the state, but most of the younger ones pledged to Yakov. They’re his boys now.”

“And Luka? What happened to him?” I asked, gesturing to my face.

“Luka eventually decided to call Yakov out. It didn’t turn out in his favor.”

“But the scars?” I prompted, curiosity demanding that I find out what would leave that kind of scarring on a were, even though I knew that the answer was sure to be something gruesome.

“There are rumors that Yakov had silver tips crafted for his claws, and that he wears them every time he fights. I’m not sure if it’s true, but he’s never lost a fight.”

“That’s...” I began to say, my words fading away as I struggled to express how sick and twisted I thought the whole thing was.

Silence descended on the car, both of us caught up in our own thoughts. I was busy trying to puzzle out which pack master was lying, and, judging from Juliet’s death grip on the steering wheel, she was still fuming about her run-in with Emmett. We didn’t speak again until Juliet pulled in front of my borrowed SUV.

“Thanks for going with me.”

“No problem,” she replied. “I’m sorry you didn’t get the information you were looking for though.”

Waving off her apology I said, “It’s fine. It’s not like I expected him to come out and admit that someone from his pack has been killing off vamps.”

“True. But what you are going to do?”

“No idea,” I said with a sigh as I ran a hand over my face, suddenly weary and craving a cup of coffee, or better yet, a handful of aspirin.

“You should come over for dinner,” she announced in a cheery voice, all traces of anger and sadness gone as if I’d imagined them.

Thinking of curling up in front of the fire with Loki I said, “I don’t know. I should probably head home.”

“Aw come on, it’ll be fun,” she said, gracing me with a wide smile that I couldn’t help but return. “Hank’s making chili and cornbread.”

I hesitated a moment longer, but after a moment, her smile, which looked a little forced around the edges, won me over. “Well... I do love cornbread.”

CHAPTER FIFTEEN

I’M NOT SURE what I was expecting when I pulled in behind Juliet’s little red Miata, but whatever it was, the picturesque two-story Victorian was definitely not it. With a gabled roof, layered shingles, and a small veranda extending over the front step, it looked like something crafted of gingerbread and icing. The blanket of snow clinging to the roof and the strand of white glittering icicle lights outlining the peaks of the roof added to the fairytale look.

“Hank lives here?” I asked, climbing out of the SUV.

Pausing on the curb, Juliet gazed up at the house behind its black wrought iron fence, seeming to glow with pride. “Yup. It was our parent’s place. We grew up here. Hank moved back in when he became pack master.”

“So your dad was pack master too?”

“And Gramps before him. You really don’t know how any of this stuff works, do you?”

From anyone else, the question might have sounded like an insult, but there was only warmth and curiosity in Juliet’s open expression. With her head cocked to one side, she resembled a big, gentle husky waiting for a scratch behind the ears.

“I guess not,” I muttered in reply, falling into step behind her.

Salt crunched beneath my boots as I followed Juliet up the walk to the front door, a wreath of fresh pine boughs hanging on the dark red door, partially obscuring the beautiful frosted glass inset. Without stopping to knock or ring the bell, she pushed open the door as if she were entering her own home.

I suppose in some ways she is.

“Come on in.”

“Should I ah... take off my shoes?”

Unwinding her scarf, Juliet looped it over a hook on the wall by the door along with her bag and jacket.

“If you want,” she replied, shrugging narrow shoulders. “Hey, bro! I brought a friend for dinner,” she called out.

Seeing the mischievous glint in her eyes, I felt dread settle like a cold rock in the pit of my stomach.

“Wait, he doesn’t know I’m here?” I asked in a hissing whisper.

Without saying a word, Juliet turned and all but skipped down the hallway towards the back of the house and the mouthwatering aroma of simmering meat and freshly baked cornbread.

Floundering for a moment, stuck between turning tail like a cowardly pup and going deeper into the house to face the pack master, I shook my head and toed off my boots. “I’m
so
going to regret this.”

My sock-clad feet were almost silent on the bare wooden floor, but I knew without a doubt that both Hank and Juliet could hear my approach just as I could hear Hank popping the cap off a beer and asking his sister, “So, who’d you bring? Don’t tell me it’s another one of your hippy dippy yoga students. You’re the only vegetarian I’ll let in this house.”

“No, it’s not one of my students. And I’m
vegan
, remember?”

Their affectionate banter drew me down the hallway until I stood on the threshold of a brightly lit kitchen decked out in light woods, gleaming granite counters, and top of the line stainless steel appliances. I felt like I had stepped into an edition of
Better Homes and Gardens
, and—as happened so often these days—I felt completely out of place.

Hank lounged next to the stove, leaning against the edge of the counter with a beer bottle pressed to his lips. He looked comfortable and relaxed in a pair of faded jeans slung low on his hips, a forest green Henley that clung to his chest and abdomen in all the right ways, and scuffed work boots. My mouth went dry at the sight of him while my mind raced with several lascivious ideas of what else he could do with those oh-so kissable lips.

I wonder if he comes as part of the “welcome to the pack” package.

Spotting me standing dumbfounded in the doorway Juliet’s expression became devious, a wealth of mischief hidden behind her cornflower eyes.

I’m gonna have to watch myself around this one.

Following his sister’s gaze, Hank turned to look at me, pausing with his beer raised halfway to his pursed lips for another sip. Lips that glistened in the light, a single stray drop of amber liquid clinging to the swell of his lower lip before his tongue snaked out to capture it.

Stop that! Pull yourself together woman,
I scolded myself, schooling my features into benign passivity. I was not thinking wicked, sinful things about him. Nope, not at all. Not me. I had a boyfriend, I didn’t need to be drooling over other men.

And just where is that boyfriend?
a bitter voice chimed in at the back of my mind.

Squashing that thought and the lump of emotion in my throat, I raised my hand in a halfhearted wave. “Hey.”

Taking a long pull from his beer, Hank set it down on the counter with a dull thump. “Hey,” he said, mirroring my greeting, though where mine had been shy and awkward, his was tense and suspicious.

“Can I get you a drink, Riley?” Juliet asked, ignoring the sharp look her brother shot in her direction. “Beer? Wine? Wheat grass?”

“Ah... beer would be great,” I replied, eyeing the dark bottle on the counter beside Hank’s large hand, wondering what it would feel like to have his hands caress parts of me the way they had cradled that bottle. Warmth swelled in my belly at the same instant my own spicy scent filled the room. I thought I saw Hank’s pupils dilate a little at my scent, but dismissed it as nothing more than the play of the light in his eyes. After all, he didn’t appear to be very happy to see me.

Juliet may have been able to dismiss his significant look, but I hadn’t missed it, or its meaning. Regardless of whatever response he had to my scent perfuming the air, I wasn’t welcome there.

Accepting a bottle of beer from Juliet, I took a long drink. The beer was refreshingly cool and gave me something to do with my hands other than grabbing Hank and finding out if his lips tasted as delicious as they looked. I was still pissed at him from our meeting the other day. He didn’t look like he’d cooled off much either, but I couldn’t stop my brain from supplying several very interesting ways we could burn off the tension between us.

Get a grip on yourself... I’d rather get a grip on him... stop that!
the dueling halves of my brain bantered back and forth.

Blocking out the continued pros and cons for tearing off Hank’s clothes or bolting for the door, I reminded myself yet again that I had a boyfriend who I liked very much, and focused on sucking down another gulp of beer.

Silence reigned in the kitchen, sucking the warmth out of the room, and after several uncomfortable moments I made up my mind. Setting down my beer with a little more force than intended, I watched foam creep up the neck, threatening to bubble over.

“You know, I think I’m just going to head out. Thanks for the invite, Juliet. Maybe some other time.” Before either of them could respond I bustled out of the room and down the hallway, eager to get out of there.