Instinct

Keeting it Real By Hailey Edwards

WOOLWORTH HOUSE WELCOMED ME WITH A sassy flick of her curtains as I climbed the familiar steps onto the wraparound porch, and a smile overtook me before I reached the front door, which she opened for me.

“Morning, Woolly.” I patted her doorframe on the way in. “I’m here to give you a break for a few hours. I’m taking Keet to the aquarium. Oscar too, if he’s around tonight.”

Warm air embraced me from the floor register, Woolly’s version of a hug, and I sketched a bow. “Eva Kinase, babysitter extraordinaire, at your service.”

No tyke too tough, no pet too predatory, no ghost too ghoulish.

I had been there, done that, wiped its butt, and lived to charge hazard pay.

I also came up with that slogan when I launched my business, when I was like twelve.

The floorboards creaked with laughter at my shenanigans, and I went to fetch Keet.

“I hear Keet chirping.” I scanned the living room on my way to his cage. “Is Oscar home?”

The resident poltergeist, a six-year-old boy, was nowhere in sight.

A firm twitch of the curtains told me Oscar was out.

Poor little guy would mope for days over missing out on a trip to the aquarium, but I had no time to wait until he returned from wherever ghost boys went when they weren’t on this plane.

After this favor for my aunt and uncle, I had a pair of hellhounds to walk before I called it a night.

“Pfft. Pfft. Pfft.”

A banana-yellow parakeet with beady crimson eyes performed a chorus line across his perch. He caught flack for his coloring, but his ruby-bright gaze wasn’t demonic. He was just a lutino.

“Hey, Pumba.” A laugh caught in my throat as Keet attempted to catch my attention. “Ready to go?”

Keet Richards, aka Pumba, was Aunt Grier’s parakeet familiar. A psychopomp, really. He had a body and a soul, but they didn’t line up just right. He was her first attempt at necromancy, and he was…special.

He was also still obsessed with The Lion King, even though my cousins and I were all grown at this point.

After watching it on a loop for so many years, he could quote the whole thing, songs and all, but he preferred making Pumba-esque farting noises. The cartoon warthog was by far his favorite character.

“Did Aunt Grier set out the birdmobile?” I asked the house. “I don’t see it.”

A door opened down the hall, and I went to fetch the backpack from a closet. The pet carrier was one of my better online purchases, if I do say so myself. It made birdsitting less stationary, which suited most of the creatures in my care much better than lying around their houses while they pined for their owners.

The clear plastic bubble on the back opened into a spacious interior that gave whatever pet you carried a bird’s-eye view for their adventure. For Keet, I’d installed a few wooden dowels to give him perch options. He was a picky traveler, but he seemed happy with the setup.

The lights flickered overhead, Woolly vying for my attention.

“What’s up?” I freed Keet, guided him into the pack, then zipped it tight. “Am I forgetting something?”

Footsteps thumped toward me, and the scent of rich leather and fresh copper hit my sensitive nose. There was no point in turning. I knew who stood behind me. I would have known him anywhere.

“Eva-Diva,” Corbin Theroux rumbled in a smoky voice. “I didn’t expect to see you.”

Probably because I avoided my childhood crush like pineapple on an otherwise perfectly good ham pizza. Easy to do, when his job as a sentinel entailed so much travel. And so much secrecy.

“Aunt Grier and Uncle Linus are in Atlanta for the weekend,” I told him, “if you were hoping to catch them.”

“I know.”

He knew, and yet he came anyway?

“I’m babysitting Keet and Oscar while they’re away.”

“I know that too.”

Smug bastard finally irked me enough to face him. “No one told me you were back in town.”

Aunt Grier, who’d resuscitated him into the special snowflake vampire he is today, usually warned me.

Unable to help myself, I looked my fill. I hadn’t seen him in person in years. Almost a decade.

Hair as black as midnight fell in soft waves to his shoulders, clashing with the hard line of his jaw. His green eyes pierced me, and I didn’t want to know what differences he saw in me. His whipcord-thin build had filled out, but he was still wiry. Lean…like he was hungry.

His taste in fashion hadn’t changed, though. Ratty jeans, scuffed boots, holey tee. Very James Dean.

“Only for the weekend.” A smile flavored his tone. “What are the odds?”

None to none.

Damn it, Auntie.

She must have gotten fed up with my one-woman cold war and decided it was time for a truce.

“Well, I have to be going.” I eased on the backpack. “See you around.”

As I brushed past Corbin, he gripped my upper arm in a light hold.

“That’s the thing.” He wet his bottom lip. “You make sure you don’t. See me, that is.”

“I’m a busy girl with a full social calendar.”

As the eldest daughter of the alpha pair of the Savannah, Georgia, gwyllgi pack, I had a full-time job in defending my title as gamma, or third. Many of the gwyllgi credited my high ranking to nepotism. Until I kicked their hairy asses.

“Hmm.” He stroked his thumb down the inside of my arm. “What are you doing now?”

“Save our oceansss,” Keet, the tattletale, sang. “Oceans. Oceans. Oceans.”

“The aquarium?” Corbin grinned, the corners of his smile sharp. “I love the aquarium.”

As I stared at his teeth, prickles raced up the side of my neck.

The night of my high school graduation, I drank enough liquid courage to attack him with my mouth. No one would call what I did to him a kiss, and the cringeworthy details had been burned into my memory.

His frown when I sashayed over to him. His startled expression when I sat on his lap. His grunt of surprise when I claimed his smooth chin in a passionate nightmare of miscalculation that resulted in him laughing at me, scooping me into his arms, and carrying me home, where he tucked me into bed.

Like I was still a stupid little kid with a raging crush on him.

Which was exactly how I felt.

Crushed.

The shame wasn’t helped by the fact he up and disappeared the next night, as if he couldn’t wait to get away from me.

“Whatever,” I huffed, sounding totally mature and not at all like a pouting teen. “It’s a free country.”

Corbin fell in step with me as I exited the house. “Mind if I drive?”

“I have a truck.” I dangled my keys in his face. “Feel free to drive yourself, though.”

The spit dried in my mouth when I saw what he was driving. A 1969 Ford Bronco painted reef aqua with sharp white trim, a pristine white hardtop, and gleaming white leather seats.

“One last chance to change your mind,” he breathed in my ear. “Sure you don’t want me to drive?”

That model and paint combo was one I had obsessed over for years, and I envied him for owning it.

“I’m good,” I mumbled, failing to tear my gaze from his ride. “See you there.”

With vampire strength, Corbin removed his hardtop and carried it into the garage while I watched, leaving his Bronco open to the cool night air.

“Vroom. Vroom.” Keet scratched at the plastic bubble. “Vroom. Vroom.”

Removing the backpack, I stared him down. “Really?”

He broke into garbled Transformer noises, another beloved franchise of his, that cemented the request.

“Do you mind if Keet rides along?” I heard the betrayal in my voice. “I can strap him in with a seat belt.”

Corbin took him, placed him in the back, and secured the pack before turning back to face me.

“Come on, Eva-Diva.” Corbin opened the front passenger door. “Please?”

“Don’t call me that.” I fisted my keys until they cut into my palm. “I’m not a kid anymore, Corbin.”

Nostrils flaring, he rasped as the jut of his fangs grew more pronounced behind his lips. “You’ve cut yourself.”

Turning my hand over, I saw he was right. I had been too angry to feel the bite of the metal.

“I’m gwyllgi.” I flashed him the already closed wound. “It’s not like I’m in any danger from a scratch.”

Eyes darker than a starless sky, Corbin strode toward me. “I’ll be the judge of that.”

His strong fingers braceleted my wrist, and he brought my hand to his nose. No. Not his nose. His mouth. He bent his head, ensnared my gaze, and glided his tongue across my palm.

I forgot how to breathe, how to think, how to do more than gawk as he cleaned my skin of blood.

“Well, look at that.” He rubbed his thumb down the pink seam. “You were right.”

While I was dumbstruck, he shepherded me to the Bronco and lifted me into the copilot seat.

I let him strap me in with a kind of wonder, a near certainty I was dreaming, and then he shut the door.

The metallic slam broke the spell he put me under, jarring me out of my shock, but the vampire was quick. He slid in behind the wheel, cranked the engine, and spun out before I could fumble the catch open on my seat belt.

Manic laughter trailed us as Keet fluttered, enjoying the wind cutting through the tiny breathing holes in the clear plastic.

When I acknowledged how much I enjoyed my long hair snapping in my face, I felt like a traitor to my pickup, which Dad handed down to me when I turned sixteen.

“Is that a smile?” Corbin cut his eyes toward me. “Having fun yet?”

“No,” I lied, smothering a dopey grin resulting from riding in this car with this guy.

“You’ve always been a crap liar, Eva.”

“You don’t know me well enough to say that.”

“I know all kinds of things about you.” He pitched his voice low. “Like how your lips feel on my skin.”

Mortification shot my hand to the door, and I closed my fingers around the latch. Jumping wouldn’t kill me. Even if the asphalt shredded my skin and impact broke bones, I would survive it. I would rather that, rather a semi hit me, than have this conversation with Corbin. Ever.

“I made a fool of myself, and I’m lucky the guy whose lap I fell into didn’t take advantage.”

“That’s how you want to play this?” The steering wheel groaned beneath the clench of his fingers. “You want to pretend you didn’t brush off every boy who spoke to you on your way to me?”

“I was drunk. I don’t remember what I did or didn’t do. That’s how drunk works.”

A growl vibrated in his chest, and the wild heart of me thumped harder, until fur brushed the undersides of my skin in warning the beast wanted out. A crimson veil drew across my vision, and I had to focus my breathing to hold on to this form.

“I remember.” He stared out the windshield, his voice a thready whisper. “Enough for the both of us.”

The rest of the trip passed in silence, minus a fart sound here or there from Keet and the random burst of birdy laughter.

This time of night, the doors to the Clarice Lawson Oceanic Research Institute had just opened, and lines weren’t long. It helped that the entire building was warded against humans. Only the paranormal community was welcome at the area’s largest attraction.

Seeing as how the aquarium was named after Uncle Linus’s mother, who funded the project, he finessed a lifetime pass for me the year it opened. Another bonus of Aunt Grier being Clarice Lawson’s daughter-in-law was that no one batted an eye when I brought Keet in to spend quality time among the fishes.

Corbin, who rarely spent time in Savannah, was doomed to the ticket line or hitting a kiosk.

Smiling as I walked up to the door, scanned my card, and entered the cool building, I left him behind without a hint of guilt. “You want to hit the shark exhibit first?”

I preferred the leafy sea dragons, but Keet loved sharks. And penguins. God, the penguins.

After he saw an African penguin at the aquarium’s grand opening, he became obsessed with them. The live webcam of their enclosure became his new favorite TV show. He refused to fly for a year and took up waddling as his primary mode of transportation.

For hours each night, he swam in the pool at my parents’ house until he worked up the nerve to dive and swim underwater. African penguins held their breath for four minutes max. Keet, being undead, had a poor sense of time. He also didn’t require oxygen. His laps tended to last twenty minutes.

“Bum, bum, bum, bum,” Keet began, alarming the patrons around us. “Do, do, do.”

When we passed under a splashy banner for The Little Guppies Show, he belted out his favorite song.

“Save our oceansss.” His claws raked the plastic bubble. “Oceans. Oceans. Oceans.”

The song came from the animated 4D show for kids, which included live elements to surprise the audience. Water sprays, rumble seats, and flying mylar streamers. The latter, he always stole and nested in until they got so ratty Aunt Grier tossed them.

“I have to buy tickets, remember?” I headed to a kiosk. “It’s not movie time yet.”

“Bum, bum?” Keet pouted. “Do, do?”

“We can see the sharks while we wait,” I assured him. “Maybe you’ll see that big stingray you like too.”

With a show ticket in my pocket, I joined the queue for the people mover that carried patrons through an acrylic tunnel bisecting the floor of the shark exhibit.

“You still like vanilla?”

A groan poured out of me as I glanced over my shoulder to find Corbin holding two soft serve ice cream cones. With so many people, and so much perfume and cologne, I hadn’t smelled his approach.

Vanilla for me. Pineapple for him.

Always with the pineapple.

And yes, I was aware how sad it made me that I had memorized his favorite, well, everything.

“I’m on a diet.”

“Gwyllgi don’t diet.” He thrust the cone into my hand as we rode into the exhibit. “Try again.”

Shifter metabolism burned calories off as they touched our lips. That, and a genuine love of good food, meant he was right. Gwyllgi were eating machines. More so than the sharks swimming above us.

“I’ll take your ice cream,” I said haughtily, “but only because my parents taught me not to waste food.”

A chilly rivulet tracked over my fingers, and I chased the drop with my tongue before stealing a few of his napkins to protect me from more spillage. “There. I’m eating it. Happy?”

The way he watched me lick my lips caused a lump to form in my throat.

“Not even close,” he rumbled, invading my personal space, “but it’s a start.”

As I faced forward, determined not to embarrass myself again, a warning prickle stung my nape.

A low growl poured into the tunnel, and patrons scattered like leaves on the winds of a hurricane.

Puffing out my cheeks, I kissed my peaceful evening goodbye and turned to identify the problem.

Bastian Crowley.

I should have known.

And he’d brought his brothers, Mathieu and Ormand, with him.

“Eva Kinase,” he roared. “I challenge you for your rank as gamma.”

“You want to do this here?” I ate my treat with forced nonchalance. “Now?”

“You used your witchy magic on my brother,” he accused. “Otherwise, he would have beaten you.”

Thaddeus Crowley had challenged me yesterday, right after I ate enough tacos to send myself into a food coma. I had to wonder if he had done it intentionally. Jerk. The joke was on him. I never lost a challenge, or my dinner. Or my lunch. Or my breakfast, now that I thought about it.

What can I say? Momma didn’t raise no quitter.

Before we were done, I had broken his right leg, his left arm, and probably his tailbone.

But I won. I always won. I was a Kinase.

Daughter of an alpha. Granddaughter of an alpha. Great-granddaughter of an alpha.

I might be a dynastic aberration, but I refused to be a failure.

“I’m a gwyllgi, the same as you.” I hated airing our pack’s dirty laundry in public. “I have no magic.”

Plenty of folks wondered, and I couldn’t blame their curiosity, given my peculiar life up to this point.

Mom almost miscarried me after a challenge gone wrong. Aunt Grier, her best friend, used necromancy to save me. That would have been fine, if her magic hadn’t also tweaked my biological clock, setting my development on fast forward.

I was born early, right after Mom’s first trimester, but at the length and weight of a full-term baby. They might have explained that away too, with a joke about how much Mom ate during her pregnancy, if the trend hadn’t continued.

I grew weeks within days, months within weeks, years within months.

I was the flower girl at Aunt Grier and Uncle Linus’s wedding, but at two and a half, I passed for twelve.

At the age of five, I was done growing, leaving me in a body frozen between twenty and thirty.

Mentally and emotionally, I developed a step or two behind my apparent physical age, earning me freak status and making me a one-of-a-kind oddity. I was twenty-five next week, and my outside matched my inside. For now. No one knew why I’d stopped growing or if I would start again.

As much as my family hated to admit it, I’d accepted I was living on borrowed time years ago.

Maybe that was why I got hung up on Corbin in the first place. He was a Deathless vampire, the only one of his kind in existence, as far as anyone knew. A true immortal, unlike the other vampire types. It was less lonely knowing another weirdo was out there.

“Witch,” Bast snarled. “I bet if I set you on fire, you’d burn.”

“Um.” I crunched through the cone. “I hate to break it to you, but literally anyone would burn if you set them on fire.”

A huff of laughter reminded me Corbin was getting a firsthand look at the ugly side of my life.

“Who’re you?” Bast turned on Corbin. “Are you with the witch?”

After polishing off his cone, Corbin took his time wiping his fingers and then his mouth clean.

“I’m the guy,” he said, “who just scored a front-row seat to watch you get your ass kicked.”

“Big talk from a bloodsucker,” Mathieu sneered. “Want a turn with me when he’s done with her?”

“Nah.” Corbin bared his fangs, sharp and deadly, in a smile. “I’m here as a spectator.”

As much as it galled me to ask Corbin, I did it. “Will you agree to act as an impartial witness?”

“I would, but I can’t.” He rolled a shoulder. “I’ve never been that where you’re concerned.”

Unsure what to make of that, I decided I didn’t want to ask and be told the reason he couldn’t be impartial was he viewed me as a little sister to protect.

“Canvass the crowd and pick a lucky soul for us?” I wanted this done by the books. “Bast, we need to pick a spot that’s not the conveyer in the shark exhibit.”

I cut him off when he attempted to talk over me. “There are children present. I won’t risk harming innocents.”

Most paranormal species were indoctrinated to violence and bloodshed from an early age, but I didn’t want to scar those with more delicate sensibilities.

“Okay.” He tilted his head back, watching the giant ray swim overhead. “I’ve got just the place.”

Forethought on his end did not bode well for me, but I sucked it up and let him have his way. “Lead on.”

I fell in behind the Crowley brothers, not trusting them at my back, and shot my folks a text.

Bastian Crowley challenged me at the aquarium. Mathieu and Ormand are with him.

Kick ass, baby girl. Mommy loves you.

A flush prickled up to my hairline, but I couldn’t stop my smile.

Love you too.

Within minutes, Corbin returned with a young woman who gazed up at him with wide blue eyes.

Ugh.

The idea of him with other women always put me in a violent temper, so maybe this was a positive.

“This is Paula,” he rushed out her credentials. “She’s a warg, and from out of state, so there should be no conflicts of interest.”

Our pack had interbred heavily with wargs, diluting our blood enough to escape Faerie rule, but that was centuries past. As long as she wasn’t from a Georgia pack, I had no problem using her.

Paula took one good look at me and cringed back a step. “Hi.”

Damn my Southern manners.

I wanted to rip out her curly blonde hair and strangle her with it, but I shook her soft hand, and mine came back smelling of magnolias and a foreign pack that would suit my purpose just fine.

“Thanks for doing this.” I forced a smile. “With any luck, I won’t hold you up long.”

“I totally understand.” She ditched Corbin and fell in step with me. “I’m from Florida, the Iglesias pack.”

She rolled her eyes. “I’m five rungs down the ladder, and the boys can’t stand it. They pick fights with me less now that I’ve whooped all their asses at least once, but cornering you in public, on a date night?”

Her upper lip curled. “That’s as low class as it gets.”

Cue feeling bad for all the nasty things I had been thinking about her.

He was doing it again. Burrowing under my skin. Warping my common sense. Making me territorial.

I had to yank him off my heart like a juicy tick on an itchy dog.

“I agree.” Genuine warmth seeped into my grin. “I’m gamma, under my parents. You can imagine how that goes.”

“Oh.” A grimace twisted her adorable features. “That’s got to suck.”

“Yeah.”

We passed through a door labeled Employees Only, and the fishy scent of the aquarium grew sharper. Metal stairs painted glaring white led us up two stories, by my estimate. “No matter how many times I prove my worth, there’s always someone who doesn’t believe I’ve earned my spot.”

Or who thought I wielded mystical witchy powers to get it, which was beyond ridiculous.

Aunt Grier was a necromancer. Had her magic mutated me in utero, that was what I would have become—a necromancer. Not a garden-variety witch, but whatever.

If I tried beating the ignorance out of people, I was more likely to kill them than cure them.

“I’m sorry,” I told her, “for the abundance of dickweasels in your pack.”

“I’m also sorry for the abundance of dickweasels in your pack.”

Our easy camaraderie made it simple to picture how this might have been my life, had I been born without necromantic intervention. I could have had friends in my pack, friends in other packs. My status as the eldest child of the alphas would have elevated me rather than made me a target with a flashing sign on my back. But without Aunt Grier, and her magic, I wouldn’t be standing here.

“Here, fishy, fishy, fishy. Here, fishy.”

Paula jumped at the voice and only then noticed my backpack. “What is that?”

“My aunt’s parakeet.” I shrugged out of the pet carrier. “Corbin, do you mind holding Keet?”

We had reached the top, where more grates formed a platform over a massive tank filled with…sharks.

Well, that explained why Bast confronted me in the tunnel. A hint of things to come.

“Oh,” Corbin grumbled, “so you do remember I’m here.”

As if I could forget. His presence was a warm tingle down my spine, impossible to ignore.

Once Corbin was in possession of the carrier, bubble facing out, Paula peered in.

“Oh. I see him.” She laughed. “He was hanging upside down from the top.”

“He’s weird like that.”

“Here I was wondering if clear backpacks were new and trendy. I always miss those memos.”

“Trendy? Me? No.” I snorted. “Whoever’s in charge of fashion deleted me from their newsletter too.”

I tolerated jeans, tees, and undies. I hated socks, shoes, jackets. I preferred strappy camisoles with shelf bras, though I didn’t require one, sadly, and breezy athletic shorts with panties sewn in.

Simple. Painless. Efficient.

Glamourous, I was not.

Plus, it was easier to get bloodstains out of basic clothing. Or to replace it without breaking the bank.

“Anytime, princess,” Bast taunted. “I don’t have all night.”

“That’s my cue.” I rolled my shoulders. “Paula, if you have a phone, I would appreciate you filming this.”

Technology made it easy for wins and losses to be credited without dispute.

For that reason, I filmed everything. Then I sent the tamer bouts to my folks, who watched the clips at home while eating popcorn and cheering me on from the couch. Sometimes they invited friends over, really made a party out of it, and left me wishing I had never been born.

Corbin had no parting words for me, but he did hold my stare until I broke away to face Bast.

“You challenged me, I even let you pick the location, but the choice of weapon is mine.”

“I can beat anything you’ve got.” He snorted. “Are your claws manicured too?”

“You’ve got to be kidding me.” The tips of my fingers were a horror show of chewed nails and torn cuticles. “Do you even know what a manicure is?”

Paula’s soft laughter did nothing to calm Bast’s raging temper, and he released a vicious growl.

“Shift.” I anchored my hands on my hips. “I’ll give you a five-second head start.”

“Keep it.” His upper lip quivered, and spittle dotted his chin. “I can beat you without it.”

“Need me to hold your clothes?” Paula checked with me. “You don’t want to lose them in the water.”

“Gwyllgi keep what they wear during the shift,” Corbin answered for me. “Handy, right?

“For real?” She gaped at me. “So unfair.”

“It’s a fae thing.” I winked at her. “Thanks for offering, though.”

Crimson magic splashed up Bast’s legs in a red wave that crested his shoulders, climbing until it coated him. As the viscous liquid drained away, his human shape did too, melting into a muscular form that was half bull mastiff and half Komodo dragon. His burnt-orange fur gave way to heavy scales in strategic places, and needlelike teeth filled his mouth.

The change was much gentler to my kind than our warg ancestors, faster too, but he wasn’t me.

Not to brag, but I came from a long line of female alphas. I might be crap at living in my human skin, but I knew my worth on four paws.

On the edge of my hearing, Corbin counted down from five, as if he couldn’t help himself.

When he hit one, I gave myself over to the magic, and it splashed, crimson and vibrant, around me, pulling me down into my gwyllgi form. I wasn’t winning any beauty pageants like this, but I was a beast. Literally.

“I’ve never seen a gwyllgi shift,” Paula whispered to Corbin. “Never seen one in person either.”

“She’s beautiful, isn’t she?” Corbin had the balls to sound proud, like he had anything to do with it. “Wait until you see her move. She’s like greased lightning.”

The praise earned him a twitch of my ears. I couldn’t be hearing him right. How would he know? He had never seen me fight. Never watched me shift, either. I had only let him see me in this form a handful of times, aware of how off-putting the odd blend of canine and reptile could be.

The only way he could have that knowledge was if…Mom and Dad let him watch the videos.

As proud parents, I could picture them doing it, but why would he ask to see them in the first place?

Bast finished his change, and his rage at me for beating his time tempted me to roll my eyes. This guy, and his brothers, had been pack since before my birth. He knew me. He knew what I was capable of. Why my speed still offended him, I had no clue.

As Mom was fond of saying, You can’t fix stupid.

And she had tried, for my sake, until it became clear her intervention only made me appear weaker, an easier target for when my parents turned their backs. To survive the pack, I had to make it on my own.

For the sake of the recording, I stood my ground and let Bast strike first, a punishing rake of his claws down my side.

The low snarl rippling through the room sent a hot shiver down my spine, and my ruff stood on end. Corbin knew better than to interfere. All his posturing accomplished was distracting me. The urge to snap my teeth at him twitched in my neck, but I couldn’t afford to take my eyes off Bast.

When Bast circled for a second pass, a nip and run, I let him get close then snapped my jaws shut on the side of his throat. I shook him until he yelped then spat him out on the grate. Had we been on two legs, it would have qualified as him crying uncle, but the murderous glint in his eyes warned he had no intentions of taking the out I was willing to give him.

“What the hell?” Mathieu grunted. “Is that…bird shit?”

“A sparrow must have gotten in,” Ormond muttered. “Like they do in grocery stores.”

Oh, God, no.

Keet.

That was the last thing I needed, but I was stuck.

Shift and yell at the bird, and Bast would eviscerate me in my softer, pinker human form.

Let the bird dive-bomb them, and I was in real danger of them killing him.

Well, he couldn’t technically die, he was already dead, but if we lost his body parts, we would have to source new ones, and I did not want to grave rob for a parakeet.

Using my distraction to his advantage, Bast slammed into me, knocking me closer to the platform’s edge.

Annoyed with myself, I snapped my teeth at him and forced myself to ignore Keet.

Him, we could reanimate.

Me?

Not so much.

I was hard to kill, all shifters were, but it wasn’t impossible.

Bast pivoted on the ball of one wide paw and charged me again.

There was no finesse, no style, just brute strength. With his strategy stuck on repeat, I didn’t bother altering mine either. Lazy of me, I know, but it had been a week. Mom would tan my hide if she watched this one. Bast was smaller than me but bulkier through the shoulders, and he was mean. His bites struck bone. I had no issue with him tiring himself out on wasted feints if it kept his teeth away from my throat.

Our fight developed a familiar rhythm.

Bast rushed in. I tore a chunk out of him. He retreated.

Rinse and repeat.

The next battering-ram-style attack shoved me back, and my hind feet slid across slippery metal.

Faster than I could regain my balance, Bast whipped around and hammered me again with his shoulder.

Clarity slapped me as my legs skated out from under me.

Bast had been herding me, and I was too slow on the uptake to recognize his ploy until it was too late.

Frigid saltwater stole my breath when I splashed into the tank.

“Eva.”

Corbin’s enraged bellow shocked me out of my stupor, and I blinked stinging eyes to find the sharks circling me, curious about their guest. A flurry of movement drew my attention away from my fellow predators, and I cringed when I spotted the milling crowd of visitors standing in the acrylic tunnel.

As they gasped and pointed, I could only pray they saw my scales and figured I was a new attraction.

Then the phones came out, flashes went off, and I accepted my parents were going to kill me.

If they didn’t die laughing first.

My paws hit the gritty bottom of the tank about the time my lungs began screaming for air. The sides of the enclosure were textured at eye level with rock and coral for the sake of the viewing window, but the upper sections were smooth and painted a cool blue.

Gwyllgi couldn’t swim, which, yeah. Ironic. You would think we could dog paddle at least, but sadly not. Our dense muscle mass and solid build meant we were heavier. Factor in our head size, and weight that tended to be disproportionate to our bodies, and we couldn’t hold our heads above water on four legs. Wherever we got our scales, it wasn’t from a long-lost aquatic ancestor. Gwyllgi sank like freaking rocks.

To shift, abandoning the agreed-upon weapon of teeth and claws, would award Bast the win.

I would rather drown in front of an audience than forfeit to that dickweasel.

A second disturbance scattered the sharks, and my stomach dropped when a yellow bullet shot straight for me.

Keet, in full-on penguin mode, nibbled the fur on my nose, yanking me toward the faux coral reef I’d noticed earlier. I let him guide me—it was that or die bald—and climbed them. There, painted the same eye-tricking blue as the upper tank, was a metal ladder bolted to the curved side.

Hallelujah.

Pulling myself up, paw over paw, was about as much fun as it sounds. The narrow rungs on the reinforced stainless-steel ladder weren’t meant for gwyllgi paw pads, and the lack of oxygen was fire in my lungs. Black dots twinkled in my vision before I hit what I estimated to be the halfway point.

Keet pecked and clawed at my vulnerable face to keep me motivated on the climb, drawing blood that perked the sharks’ interest.

As it turned out, that proved even better motivation than having a wannabe penguin attack out of love.

When my head broke the water, Matthieu yelled, “Bast, she made it out.”

Within seconds, Bast guarded the ledge, snarling and snapping at me. I couldn’t climb over or past him, and my limbs trembled from exertion. As much as I didn’t want another dunk, I didn’t see another way.

Slinking down a step, until the water almost closed over my head, I let Bast overextend to reach me for a finishing bite then sprang up and sank my teeth deep in his throat. He dug in his paws, his claws finding purchase in the grates. I was stuck, I didn’t have enough leverage, and I couldn’t stand here all day.

Lungs expanding with fresh oxygen, I let go of the ladder. My punishing grip, and weight, drew Bast in after me. He panicked as we sank and flailed several yards, but I was primed for when I touched down on the reef.

Within minutes, Keet had caught up to me, and I hustled to escape his encouragement.

This time, nothing obstructed my view of the platform, and I climbed out then flopped onto my belly. Panting and coughing up water, I blinked to clear my blurry vision in time to watch Corbin run to me.

“Now we wait.” Paula exhaled with relief. “Either he climbs out, or he doesn’t.”

Sides heaving, I lay there while Keet, who had caught a ride on my back out of the tank, cleaned my fur. I grunted when he wedged his sharp beak between my gleaming scales, but I lacked the energy to snap at him, even when his intense grooming hurt. A hazy part of my brain wondered if that wasn’t the point.

Passing out mid-challenge from repeated oxygen deprivation was probably not wise.

Smart little bird, that Keet, I’ll give him that.

“You okay?” Corbin sank to his knees near my head. “Am I allowed to touch you now, or…?”

Baring my teeth, I wanted to spit he wasn’t allowed to touch me ever, but all I could do was growl.

“Leave her,” Paula advised. “From what she told me about her pack, we don’t want to risk her win.”

Maybe I could edit out that last part before my folks watched this, and they would see it. After my swim, they would demand a copy to gauge how much damage was done and what reparations must be made.

With a nod, he broke into a smile. “You were amazing.”

Ears flat to my skull, I curled my upper lip to show him teeth.

“I was five seconds away from diving in after you,” he murmured, then grinned when I chomped the air an inch from his nose. “It would have been legal. I asked Paula. The reason you slipped was Bast, or one of his brothers, greased the grate.” He held up a vial. “It was clear, scentless. That’s why no one noticed. My money’s on treadmill lube. It reminds me of the spray I have for mine back home.”

That he had collected evidence to make my case before saving me was…weirdly sweet.

“Can you believe Keet?” He huffed out a laugh. “How did he not get eaten?”

Nostrils flaring, I scented the air, but I couldn’t detect him.

Now that I thought about it, I hadn’t felt or seen him since Corbin began his vigil either.

A whine left my raw throat as I shoved to my feet, my body working overtime to heal the damage, and I did what I always do when Keet escaped his cage at Woolworth House for unsanctioned hide-and-seek.

Where is the absolute worst place he could have gone?

Body trembling with exhaustion, I rose and wobbled over to the ladder.

Sure enough, a yellow dot swarmed Bast, guiding him onto the reef and up the hidden ladder.

The sharks were moving past agitation to aggression, and I couldn’t blame them. We had been splashing in their pool, bloody, for too long. I waited until Bast’s head broke the water then cleared a path for him to haul himself onto the grate, grateful that even without Corbin’s findings, Keet’s involvement couldn’t be held against me since he had elected to assist us both for his own mysterious birdy reasons.

As Bast choked and gasped, I pressed a paw down on his windpipe. He smacked a back leg against the metal in a tap out, but I didn’t trust him to honor it. I applied more pressure, until his eyes bulged, and his kicking became frantic. Only then did I hold the stares of each of his livid brothers and release him.

Crimson magic splashed bright and hot over Bast as he shifted into a soggy lump of man who regretted his pick of venue, if his wild expression as he scrabbled away from the tank was any indication.

Eager to get my voice back, I embraced the change and returned to two legs.

“Keet?” I coughed a few times, my human throat tender. “Where is he?”

“Still in the water.” Corbin checked with Paula, who nodded it was over. “I’ll get him.”

“Thanks.” I forced myself to swallow the next brutal coughing fit, straighten my spine, and unleash my dominant nature. “You’ve had your fun and your five seconds of fame with the tourists, Bast. It’s over.”

A row of employees with sharp glowers crowded their own much smaller, private viewing window.

I was willing to bet they’d appeared the second I hit the water to ensure we didn’t harm their animals.

“Take your brothers and go,” I ordered him, “while I make nice with the aquarium staff.”

Mathieu and Ormand hooked their hands under Bast’s arms and hauled him to his feet. They carried the wobbly instigator strung between them, their expressions tight, a wet trail zigzagging behind them.

“Um, Eva?”

With the threats removed, I turned to Corbin, whose pale skin had taken on a greenish tint.

“We’ve got a problem.” He pointed to a banana-yellow feather floating in the water. “I don’t see him.”

“You’ve got to be kidding me.” I rubbed a hand over my face. “That bird will be the death of me.”

Corbin and I scanned the sharks as they passed, but they all gave off a nothing to see here vibe.

None of them had the decency to have a feather stuck between their rows and rows of teeth, telling us which one was guilty.

The staff door swung open, and a tall woman with a blunt haircut prowled over to me.

“Eva.” Miss Lacy, a vampire older than the dinosaurs circling below, frowned. “The shark tank? Really?”

“She had no choice.” Corbin stepped in. “I’m sure you could see that, safe behind your acrylic wall.”

“What happened was reckless, thoughtless,” she clipped out, “and dangerous to the animals.”

“Corbin.” I cut him off with a slice of my hand through the air. “Miss Lacy is right.”

Miss Lacy, because she had been my favorite tour guide when I was a kid. That was how we knew each other, and that was why, after years of listening to her talk about shark conservation, she expected better of me.

“Of course I’m right,” she huffed, then drew me into a hug. “Now, unless my old eyes were playing tricks on me, your aunt’s familiar was just swallowed whole by our tiger.”

Withdrawing from her embrace, I asked, “Do we wait for him to pass, or…?”

“That would not be ideal.” Her thin lips pressed together. “The stomach acid would digest everything but the feathers, perhaps the beak. We’ll have to hope that…” She leaned over the tank. “Ah. The matter resolved itself. Classic gastric eversion. Do you see?”

The tiger shark had barfed up its stomach.

Not only the contents.

The entire thing.

A pink and pulpy mass hung out of his mouth, along with everything it had eaten lately. Including one pissed-off parakeet, who kicked off its forehead and rocketed toward the surface in a huff.

It did make me wonder, though. Tiger sharks were garbage cans of the sea. They ate everything. License plates, tires, a suit of armor, wallets, cameras, coins, fur coats. And once, a chicken coup. With chickens in it. I mean, how? Whatever we tossed into the water, they gobbled down.

Except, apparently, undead parakeets with savior complexes and aspirations to penguindom.

“Keet.” I scooped the bird out of the water and examined him beak to tail. “You’re in big trouble.”

Miss Lacy placed her hands on my shoulders and aimed me toward the stairs, her request clear. She left us with that not-so-subtle hint then went to speak to Paula. Likely, she wanted a copy of the video for their records in case the animals suffered any trauma from the experience.

“Bum-bum, bum-bum, bum-bum-bum-bum.”

“Yes.” I rolled my eyes. “I saw.” I cuddled him close. “There are probably already videos posted online.”

Uninterested in being soothed, he kicked free of me and lit on my wrist.

“Keep our oceans cleaaan…” He hopped up my arm. “Oceans, oceans, oceans.”

“I don’t recognize that song.” Corbin frowned. “Do you?”

“Oh, yeah.” I reached in my pocket and produced a soggy ticket. “It’s for The Little Guppies Show.”

“That sounds…interesting.”

“He won’t leave until he’s watched it.”

“I can take him, if you want to head home and shower.”

“I’m already here.” I shrugged. “Might as well stick it out to the bitter end.”

Also? I was terrified Keet would get ideas now that he had successfully penguined with sharks. Corbin wasn’t used to babysitting the little troublemaker. I would feel better if I kept my eyes on him.

“I’m going to buy dry clothes from the gift shop. Then we’ll get tickets.” The one in my pocket was worthless. We had missed the showtime. “Sound good?”

“Whatever you want,” Corbin murmured. “I’ll follow your lead.”

I didn’t trust his tone, his implications, or the shivers blasting down my spine.

We took the stairs, careful of the wet spots, and waited at the bottom for Paula to join us.

Ever the showman, Keet entertained us by hanging upside down then swinging from my middle finger.

“You missed your calling.” I scratched Keet’s earholes. “You must have been a bat in another life.”

“That was amazing,” Paula gushed as she caught up to us. “You’re a beast when you shift.”

A sour taste coated the back of my throat. “Thanks?”

“She’s fierce,” Corbin agreed. “Her coloring is unique too.” He swung his gaze to mine. “She’s beautiful.”

Paula glanced between us, a grin splitting her cheeks. “Where do I send the recording?”

I gave her my email addy for the video and got her number in case a statement was required from either party, or the aquarium.

“I’m in town for the week.” She ducked her head. “Want to grab lunch one day?”

When I hesitated, Corbin elbowed me in the ribs, and I blurted, “Sure.”

A flush burned in my cheeks, flashing me back to Mom setting up playdates with packmates’ kids.

“I’ll call you tomorrow,” she offered shyly, “and we can set something up, okay?”

“That sounds great.”

I smiled as she returned to her group, then I elbowed Corbin. “Really?”

“She seems nice, and you could use a friend besides me.”

“You’re not my friend.” I paused in stuffing Keet into his carrier. “Well, that’s one mystery solved.”

“Hmm?”

“Keet escaped by picking at a seam. He unraveled a section of the zipper and wiggled through.”

There was nothing for it but to keep wearing him and pray he would behave.

Ha.

Yeah.

I couldn’t even think that with a straight face.

Leaving Corbin to birdsit while I bought new duds and changed, I emerged from the gift shop itchy from the salt, but dry.

At the kiosk, Corbin took point, flirting with the older woman. “Two tickets to your next show, please.”

“One started not five minutes ago.” She blossomed under his attention. “You haven’t missed much.”

“That sounds perfect.” He hit her with his megawatt smile, and even my knees wobbled. “How full is it?”

“This early,” she said with a wink at me past his shoulder, “it’s almost always empty.”

Relief at having a moment to collect myself without spectators trumped her insinuation. “Thank you.”

An usher met us at the door and guided us to prime seats using a flashlight he trained on the floor.

Gwyllgi had near-perfect night vision, but I appreciated the escort if for no other reason than he kept me from being alone in a dark theater with Corbin.

Exhausted from my ordeal, I removed the carrier, slumped into my chair, and set the pack on my lap. I angled it to ensure Keet had a perfect view of the screen then let my head fall back. Beside me, Corbin settled in, sprawling his legs until our knees bumped. I cut him a glare out of the corner of my eye, but he was too busy pretending the singing fish pals on screen were a blockbuster movie to notice.

Ten minutes into the thirty-minute show, I was falling asleep. As much as it galled me to admit, Corbin’s presence at my elbow allowed me to let my guard down and close my eyes.

As my breathing leveled off, I registered shuffling footsteps behind us and resented other latecomers would be invading our territory. That meant I couldn’t afford that nap after—

A line of fire cut across my throat, and I dropped the pet carrier onto the floor. Stretching out one leg, I kicked it under the row ahead of us to protect Keet from getting stomped as we fought off our attackers.

Vicious snarls rose beside me, explaining why Corbin hadn’t leapt to my rescue. He was caught in the same trap, a garrote cutting off his air. Unlike made vampires or Last Seeds, he required oxygen.

The width of the seats meant our attackers had made a fatal error. In my case, anyway. The backs were deep and curved inward. I was pinned, for the moment, but I had room to wiggle my right hand through the gap up to my meaty forearm, relieving the pressure on my windpipe.

As soon as I had that barrier against suffocation in place, I thrust my other arm through the hole on its side. The thin wire cut into my skin as I flexed forward, and the man behind me hit the chair with a thud. That gave me slack to duck under the garrote and free myself.

Hands planted on the armrests, I kicked off the floor and flipped myself over my seat and my opponent. I landed on his heels, shoved him forward, and he flopped over the chair to land on his butt on the floor. He must have hit his head, because he sat there stunned for a beat until he slumped sideways.

With Ormand out of the way, I turned on Corbin’s attacker. Mathieu. He retained his punishing grip on the silvery wire, torn between finishing what he started or helping his brother.

Nice girl that I am, I made the decision for him. I cocked my arm and punched him in the side of the head so hard, he staggered back from the blow, but he kept his grip on the garrote’s wooden handles.

As Mathieu fell, Corbin let himself get dragged over the back of his chair to avoid decapitation.

They landed one on top of the other, but Corbin was still caught.

Before Mathieu regained his senses, I punched him again, right in the nose. His eyes rolled back in his head, and I claimed the garrote from his limp fingers. I lifted the wire gently, but Corbin hissed as the metal released his throat.

“Back off,” Ormand snarled, rising from between the rows with Keet’s backpack in hand. “Or I finish what the tiger started.”

“That’s a fight you really don’t want.” I sank my nails into my palms. “Leave him out of this.”

Gaze locked on mine, he ripped the pack open, ruining it, and groped the bottom. “Where did he…?”

“Save our oceansss,” Keet shrieked, diving straight for him. “Oceans, oceans, oceans!”

The parakeet went straight for the eyes, clawing and raking until Ormand screamed and cursed him.

Coarse hands clamped over my neck from behind and squeezed until I saw stars. Mathieu. Again. I stepped back, hooked a leg through his, and yanked it out from under him. He fell, but he took me with him. I landed on top of him, sinking rapid elbow strikes into his muscular stomach, but his grip held firm.

A loud squelch preceded a spray of warm blood that hit the top of my head and rained on my face.

“Are you okay?” Corbin lifted me off Mathieu with vampire-quick reflexes. “Can you talk?”

Healing the damage would only take a few minutes, but I held my throat and shook my head for now.

Glancing behind me, I found Corbin had stomped Matthieu’s skull in with his boot.

I swung my head toward him, shock pounding through me, but an odd light filled Corbin’s eyes.

“He hurt you.” A feral ruthlessness carved his expression. “He had it coming.”

No words came to mind for the brutal display of violence that would do any gwyllgi proud.

Pack life kept my hands covered in blood. I had killed, and I would kill again. Those were the hard truths anyone ranked above middling in any shifter pack accepted as inevitable. But just this once, I had a white knight, and it was…

…nice.

“Save. Our. Oceans.”

Corbin turned his attention to his phone, and I was grateful for the excuse to look away.

“Keet?” I spun around, searching for him. “Where did he go?”

We followed the sound of sobbing to where Ormand knelt, his hands covering his face. Blood seeped between his fingers, and he wept while Keet tore skin off his busted knuckles, the parakeet rubbing his face in crimson rivulets.

And, yeah, that was Keet, bathing in the blood of his enemies.

Thank God he was on our side.

“You ambushed Eva,” Corbin snarled, “and she’s not crying about it.”

The big man got to his feet, weeping blood through his fingers. “Where’s Matthieu?”

“Dead.” Corbin made no bones about it. “Give us any more grief, and you’ll be next.”

The thread of eagerness in his voice, the desire for more violence, was unlike the chill man I had known. I couldn’t call foul, not when I was smeared in others’ blood, but he had always hidden his vampire side. I wasn’t sure what it meant that he let me glimpse it now. I wasn’t even sure he meant to let me see.

Throwing his head back, Ormand unleashed a mournful baying noise from his human throat.

His face was a patchwork of fine scratches and Keet-sized bite marks. His eyes, well, there wasn’t much left of them until he had time to regenerate.

Blinded by rage, and the aforementioned lack of eyeballs, he charged us. He smacked into an aisle seat with his hip, bounced off, and kissed the floor at my feet. Fresh blood spread in a puddle under his chin, and I figured he must have bitten off his tongue.

While he lay there, sobbing quietly, Keet lit on his head and began plucking out hairs.

I really, really hoped Keet didn’t find any tongue and bring it home as a souvenir/snack.

“That bird is something else.” Corbin stared at the crimson stain. “He’s got a bloodthirsty streak.”

“I would never say this to Aunt Grier’s face, but, at the end of the day, the little guy is a zombie.”

Had he been any bigger than a parakeet, say, a macaw or cockatoo, we might have been in danger of him cracking open someone’s skull with his beak and eating their brains.

“That’s harsh.”

“Hey, I’m just keeping it real.” I slid Corbin a smile. “Or should I say, Keeting it real?”

“That’s terrible.” A soft laugh huffed out of him. “I can’t believe you went there.”

“I thought it was funny.”

“Well, you were just strangled. Twice. It probably restricted the blood flow to your brain for too long.”

“Very funny.”

“I thought so.”

Grateful for the empty theater, I debated on the best course of action, considering there was a fatality.

“I’ve already texted the cleaners.” Corbin bobbed his shoulder. “Mathieu attacked a sentinel.” He gestured to his spattered shirt. “Plus, I’m a vampire. That’s how we do things.”

Cleaners were the fixers of the supernatural world. They made evidence of paranormal activity vanish. It was a stretch to call this their jurisdiction. Gwyllgi handled their own problems.

But I was tired. And Corbin was being nice. So, I was willing to bend, just this once.

“Thanks.” I managed not to choke on the words. “Drive me back to Woolly?”

I wanted Keet safe behind the bars of his cage while I unwound from our adventure and confessed all to Aunt Grier before the internet—or Miss Lacy—tattled on me.

“What kind of date would this be if I didn’t end the night walking you to your door?”

“This isn’t a date.” I ignored the uptick in my pulse I was sure he heard. “You also have a room at Woolworth House, so…it’s more like me walking you to your door.”

“I’ll take it.”

“Exit to the left,” Keet chirped. “To the left, to the left, to the left, to the left.”

“The emergency exit,” Corbin murmured. “Good idea.” He frowned down at Keet. “What about him?”

With his backpack ruined, I was forced to resort to how I carried him when I was a kid. “I got this.”

Corbin went ahead, scouting the hall leading out of the building, while I tucked in my shirt.

“I had to ditch my bra,” I told Keet. “Don’t get any ideas while you’re down there.”

Gently, I slid him into the neck of my shirt, and he nested on the fold of material above my waistband.

After taking one last look around, I joined Corbin, whose proud smile hadn’t budged all night.

Determined to ignore that, to ignore him, I led the way to the garage and called for the elevator.

We rode up in silence, which was nice, minus Keet yanking hairs out of my navel.

That freaking hurt.

The Bronco was impossible to miss, or maybe it was my infatuation that made it stand out to me.

“Get you a girl,” Corbin whispered in my ear, “who looks at you like Eva looks at 1969 Broncos.”

“I’m sure that won’t be a hardship for you.” I elbowed him. “1969 Broncos? Now those are rare.”

Ones that had been fully restored to my exact dream specifications anyway.

Gah.

I should have said yes when Uncle Linus offered to buy me one for my sixteenth birthday, but no. I had to be proud and have principles and blah blah blah at him about earning my own money and how much sweeter the reward would be.

Sixteen-year-old Eva had been a total and complete idiot, in my humble opinion.

As I opened the passenger-side door, I caught movement out of the corner of my eye.

Bast.

And whoa boy was he pissed. He must have heard the news about Mathieu from Ormand.

About to untuck my shirt and pray to God Keet didn’t decide to tour Savannah by moonlight, I jerked to a standstill when that same glitter of madness sparked in Corbin’s eyes. He leapt onto Bast, knocking him flat on his back. Bast’s skull hit the concrete with a dull thud, and crimson spread under his head.

Corbin kept going, hammering away at him, until Bast was a smear on the parking deck floor.

The frantic beat of my heart drew Corbin’s attention, and he stared in a daze at what he had done.

“Here.” He tossed me the keys to the Bronco. “I should go.”

“Corbin.” I fumbled to catch them. The blood made them slick. “What are you…?”

Slinky as a cat shifter, he jumped onto the metal railing, then leapt into open air.

“Corbin.” I raced for the edge. “Corbin.”

Old-growth oaks obscured my view, but patrons scattered from his fall or my screams or both.

There was no point in searching for him. I wouldn’t find him. I tried that once. Okay, a million times.

A covert ops vampire knew how to disappear when the situation called for it, but why did this one rate? There had been no formal challenge to protect Bast, and there could be no doubt he was out for blood. Security footage would corroborate our story.

Corbin had no reason to run. The sentinels, and the pack, would rule in his favor. So why vanish on me?

The manic gleam in his eyes was new. So was the flirting. What had changed? Him or me?

“Pepperoni,” Keet mumbled through my shirt. “Sausage. Ham. Bacon, bacon, bacon.”

Despite parakeets being omnivores, Keet was trending toward carnivore in his old age, around fifty.

“Okay.” I eyed the keys in my palm. “I’ll order a pizza, and we’ll race the driver to Woolly.”

In the Bronco. That Corbin had left in my care. I wanted to vomit from the responsibility of driving it.

Careful not to harm Keet as I strapped on my seat belt, I slid the key into the ignition and noticed a silver charm on the loop. A dog tag. The kind soldiers wore. One side held Corbin’s information stamped on its battered surface. The other side…

Happy eight belated birthdays since the last time I saw you.

My chin misses you.

I do too.

Tears smudged my vision, and my throat grew tight.

“Pepperoni,” Keet demanded, yanking on my shirt. “Sausage.”

“I’m on it,” I assured him, wiping my eyes dry. “I need to make some calls first, okay?”

The cleaners had to be made aware there was another body for them to collect.

Out in the open.

Where anyone could see.

Such was paranormal life, but sheesh.

Think of the children.

With that formality observed, I dialed Rollo, the pack enforcer on duty, and requested he dispatch a packmate to guard Bast’s remains. On second thought, I requested a tarp to spread over the body too.

While I waited on the promised enforcer, I placed the pizza order to prevent Keet from mutinying.

As I fit my fingers into the indents made by Corbin on the steering wheel, I measured my hand against his much larger one. I could almost imagine the metal was still warm from his skin.

Lost in thought, I startled when Marly, one of the top enforcers, arrived to claim the scene.

With a dip of my chin, I put the Bronco in reverse and made my way out of the parking deck.

As I passed beneath the trees, I shrugged off a prickle of awareness that warned I was being watched.

“Thank you,” I whispered, allowing the wind to catch the words and fling them into the cool night.

“Welcome, welcome, welcome.” Keet wriggled against my stomach. “Pizza, pizza, pizza.”

Stuffed crust wouldn’t solve all my problems, but it was a good start.

Until I figured out what had changed with Corbin, well, at least I had Meat Lovers’ Supreme.

And a 1969 Bronco in reef aqua that smelled like leather and copper, vampire and…possibilities.

USA Today best-selling author Hailey Edwards writes about questionable applications of otherwise perfectly good magic, the transformative power of love, the family you choose for yourself, and blowing stuff up. Not necessarily all at once. That could get messy.

Author website: https://haileyedwards.net

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