Page 25 of Savage Claim

“What do you know about it?”

She shrugged and brushed chip crumbs off her sage sweater. “It was full of a bunch of snobs. They all wanted the bloodlines to be pure, as in no romantic mingling with other races or species of shifters. And they believed turning humans into shifters was the worse offense.” She scoffed. “Totally stupid.”

“Definitely.” I picked at the bun on my half-eaten sandwich, trying to calm my racing heart so I didn’t sound too eager. “The Collective doesn’t exist anymore, right? We’d hear things about them if they did.”

Charla leaned toward me, pitching her voice low. “I think smaller groups exist, operating in secret. They probably have clandestine meetings to discuss their hatred for made creatures like you and me.”

Her theory mirrored Dante’s. Picturing a group of shifters congregating in hidden spots to wax on about maintaining pure bloodlines and taking out the made scum sent a shudder down my spine. Did they debate over ways to stop born shifters from biting humans and turning them? Did they consider ways to irradicate turned shifters…?

What was really happening to the missing shifters—who were all bitten?

The cute blonde plucked a chip from her plate and chuckled, breaking the dark, intense mood. “They can hate us all they want, but there’s nothing they can really do about it.”

I gave a forced laugh but found no humor in her words. Maybe they were trying to do something about it now.

“I love this song!” Charla’s excited voice interrupted my spiraling thoughts. “Want to dance?”

“I’d rather not.”

Her shoulders drooped. “Oh.”

She looked so sad, like I kicked her puppy. “You can dance.”

“No way. I can’t go by myself. I’ll feel stupid.” She waved her hand through the air and then picked at the remaining chips on her plate. “It’s fine. It’s just a song.”

An invisible hand squeezed my heart at the disappointment in her brown eyes, ones that reminded me too much of Jayla’s. Why did I have to be such a softy now? You’d think after what I’d been through, I wouldn’t give a damn about disappointing anyone, especially someone I barely knew.

But when her gaze lifted, all I saw were Jayla’s eyes.

Son of a bitch.

I downed the rest of my drink and stood. “Come on. Just one song.”

Charla shot up, bouncing on the balls of her feet. “Yay!” She grabbed my hand and yanked me to the dance floor.

Damn. She was stronger than she looked.

As soon as I was able to, I pulled out of her grasp, trying not to grimace. She didn’t know I hated physical contact. Charla started swaying her hips to the upbeat song while I did the same, pretending I was alone at Wrath & Ruin instead of in the middle of a shifter party.

After a few moments, I shoved all the worrisome thoughts out of my head and became lost in the music. More than ten minutes later, Charla and I were still dancing, and I smiled, actually having fun. And then, the atmosphere changed as a few males slinked around us. Charla didn’t seem to mind when a guy grabbed her hips from behind and started grinding on her.

I glanced over my shoulder as a man with rich, tawny curls closed the gap between us, reaching for my waist. “Do it, and I’ll break your nose.”

Torin, a Silver Ridge shifter who didn’t live at the compound, showed his palms. “Got it. No touching. I’ll just dance close.”

“Fane wouldn’t appreciate that.” I was really in no mood to deal with this douchebag. I didn’t need Fane to protect me, but the demon amulet had already perked up the second this creep slithered into my orbit.

It would be so much fun to break into his mind and discover what makes him scream.

I clamped my eyelids shut and tried to ignore the craving for chaos the Infernal Sol leaked into my bloodstream like a drug. When was the last time I’d consumed a fear?

Too long. Aren’t you famished?

I’m fine. I have no desire to slurp up any terrors or create havoc at this party.

Oh, this was bad. I was talking to myself again.

I opened my eyes and took a deep breath, trying to calm the appetite the damn amulet stirred in me.

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