Page 33 of Sing Sweet Nightingale

“It already has in the past. I must admit I’m rather fond of unbridled rage and bloodlust when directed at my enemies. I like having beings with such power in them at my command.” Vincent’s eyes are dark and assessing as he looks over my strained posture and fisted hands.

I say nothing because I fear speaking will distract me from restraining myself and unleash the bloodlust he seems so fond of. Vincent, it seems, has plenty to say for us both.

“I just wanted to come by and see if there weren’t some way we could work out this little disagreement between us like mature males. You have all this land just sitting here in disuse.”

He waves a grand sweeping arm at the forest surrounding us as if it were a barren wasteland with no purpose. It has a purpose and a deep connection to a lot of non-humans. Many would be lost without this land to roam freely. Numerous sprites and pixies have made it their permanent home. They can’t live in modern society. They aren’t shifters or humanoid enough topass for humans, even with a glamour. Most can’t even speak words like we do. They’re more magic and creature than the rest of us. Harmless in most cases but can be deadly if attacked or frightened. Their magic is the purest of all the non-humans.

I know this is part of the appeal to Vincent and why he wants the land. Which is just one more reason for me to keep it far out of his reach. He wants to defile it with his abominations—atrocities grown from the mixing of non-human magic and natural psychotropic plants to create his special breed of potent drug. The richer in magic the land is, the stronger it’ll be.

Not in my fucking lifetime.

“My land gets plenty of use that doesn’t involve stripping it to grow drugs. I am completely content with what I have and don’t need anything more. Especially anything you have to offer.”

“It’s a real shame. I could use a shifter as powerful as you in my organization. You could make real money working for me. Have any female or male you want; live wherever you please. Not have to answer to whimpering simpletons complaining about roadside garbage and flickering streetlights. Don’t you want to put your alpha power to good use? Commanding strong shifters and enforcing your will? That’s what an alpha was meant to do after all. Lead. Command.”

I sneer at the insinuation that I would associate myself with scum such as him. Or that I would ever stoop so low as to work for him.

“No thanks.”

Vincent ignores my refusalagain, strolling over to the carved wooden bench swing hanging from the rafters of my covered porch. Sitting he crosses one ankle over his knee getting comfortable. His black loafers polished to an annoying shine.

“Why must you insist on remaining in this backwater town wasting away?”

“I like backwater towns. They’re cleaner than gutter cities.”

Vincent winces mockingly. Pursing his thin lips and glaring at me through slitted eyes, the silver of his irises nearly swallowed whole by the surrounding black.

“I tell you what. You think on my offer, say for the next two weeks. And I’ll be around when you’re ready to accept. After that, I can’t promise my offer will remain as juicy as this. Or as civil.”

“Juicy as what? Unless I’m mistaken, you haven’t made any offer, just vague statements.”

He chuckles and grins. “See, that’s why I like you, Hunter. You come to work for me as a general in my ranks, commanding your own pack of elite shifters for whatever amount of money you want, and in return . . . I get your land. That’s all I want.”

Before I can reject yet another asinine offer, he stands and crosses the porch to where I’ve been standing on the steps, glaring.

“Don’t answer now. Just think about it.”

“My answer won’t change. It’ll be the same in two weeks as it is today.”

“We’ll see.”

Shoving his hands in the pockets of his pristinely pressed suit pants, Vincent ambles by me, not a fucking care in the world. Completely comfortable in his assumption of my inevitable acceptance as his football team of minions coalesce on the two black SUVs parked in my driveway. He stops at the rear passenger door of one and slips on a pair of mirrored sunglasses, flashing his fangs at me with a grin.

“See you around, Alpha.”

“Better not. If I see you in my town, it won’t matter how many people you have with you, I will kill you.”

His smile doesn’t falter, and his hands don’t shake. Anyone else receiving a promise of death from an alpha shifter would beshitting their pants, but not Vincent. Death threats are a daily occurrence in his world.

“You say the nicest things,” he mocks in a saccharine tone.

I don’t move until the two black vehicles are out of sight. Letting out all my pent-up anger in a roar and one swift right hook to a column supporting the awning. It splinters and breaks clean through leaving small dangling pieces at the top and bottom. Sharp pieces of wood strewn across the deck.

Damn it. Now I’ll have to make a new one.

The shift that began the moment I first saw Vincent continues to crackle through my body. I can’t hold it back any longer. I need to let it take over and run it out. As quickly as possible, I pull off my shirt and pants, tossing them on the ground, not bothering to fold them neatly as I usually would. There’s no time. My inner beast needs to be set free. So, I let it.

I release the hold on my control and allow my instinct to take over. The shift rolling through my body faster than it ever has. Flying right by basic unassuming wolf straight into my full true form. Ginger likes to refer to it as “beast mode” or “beast form.”

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