Page 2 of Twice Bitten
I didn’t give him the satisfaction of reacting, just picked it up and took a sip without showing any expression at all.
When I set it down, I said, “I’m one of Fenwick’s enforcers.” I waited a beat for the laugh I almost always got when I said that. It didn’t come. Well, that was unexpected, and it threw me off my game a little. I cleared my throat. “Who are you, and why are you trying to clear your local activities with Fenwick instead of going through one of the werewolf packs nearby?”
That had occurred to me while I waited for my drink. We had two packs only a few miles from Lancaster. And you’d think a werewolf would’ve contacted one of them instead of a vampire hierarchy…unless he had some issue with the packs themselves.
And if so, I had a totally different problem. Not only had those two packs had a war recently, they’d also had some third-party issues with another pack from Nevada. This asshole could be a spy. He could be an assassin. And we were finally on good terms with all of our werewolf neighbors after years of suspicion and occasional hostility.
The occasional bar fight didn’t count. We still had those. Ian Armitage, one of the packs’ enforcers, came to town to start one every couple of months, just for the hell of it. A good time was had by all—except maybe my coworker of the leather coats, because they always got all ripped up and it pissed him off mightily.
The alpha took a leisurely swig of his drink before he got around to answering me, which had all my hackles up. Honest men didn’t need to stall.
“I tend to avoid other werewolves,” he said at last. “Nothing personal against the Kimballs or the Armitages.” Okay, so he’d clearly done his research. A good thing or a bad thing? No way to tell yet. “But I’m not a part of a pack for a reason. A personal reason,” he added, forestalling my next question. Not that he’d forestalled anything. Did he think I cared about his privacy? “And anyway, I know the person I’m looking for is in Lancaster, not in the surrounding area. Lancaster means Fenwick.”
I sipped my martini, now stalling myself. Of course, the final decision of what to do about him wouldn’t be mine. But Lancaster’s vampire boss Charlie Fenwick and his right-hand woman Esther tended to reward, if not initiative, then at least full disclosure. Which meant I needed as much information as I could get out of him.
Well, he didn’t necessarily know I didn’t have any real decision-making power, did he?
“If you want to be able to—operate, I suppose—in Lancaster, you’re right, you need Fenwick’s blessing. And to get that, you need mine. So name, business, and intent. I don’t care if it’s personal or not.”
His pale eyes narrowed, and he leaned back and looked at me with what felt like a lot of suspicion for someone who’d shown up inmy townand inmy barclaiming to be “looking for someone.”
“Uh-huh. You really have any authority?” Dammit, he did know. And there it was, the look I’d been expecting. That quick, up-and-down, “No one would give you any authority over a lemonade stand” look.
I shot him a sour smile. “I don’t care if you’re the alpha-est alpha to ever wave your big alpha knot around in circles and howl,” I said. “You’re in a bar with a dozen-plus vampires who’re all in a shitty mood and would love to beat the shit out of you and toss you out of town, and you don’t stand a chance. And I may not be theverytop of the food chain in Lancaster, but I flat guaran-fucking-tee you I’m the highest-ranking vamp in this establishment. And more than high-ranking enough to take responsibility for dealing with one werewolf who’s not even affiliated with any of our local allies.”
He stared at me for a second, and finally he sighed and nodded.
“My name is Jack, and I’m—”
“Jack? Just Jack? Like Cher?”
“How old are—never mind, stupid question. What the fuck do you want my last name for? Planning on running my credit report or something? Not like I’d give you a real one, anyway.”
Fair point. Ugh.
I drained my martini. I was going to need another one. Great gods, I had better things to do. At least at this point I was pretty sure I didn’t need to be polite. This guy didn’t have a pack for me to piss off, so Fenwick wouldn’t care.
“Anyone ever call you Jack-off?”
He bared his teeth at me, with the slightest hint of fang. Not bad, not bad. And I considered myself a connoisseur of the passive-aggressive fang-drop. “Not twice.”
I couldn’t help myself; I burst out laughing. And Jack grinned back, easily, as if he’d only been waiting for me to show some sign of non-hostility to lower his own defenses.
Too bad he was a werewolf, because he looked damn good when he smiled like that.
“Okay, Jack-not-off.” That made him grin a little wider, leaning back in his seat like he’d started to relax. I knew better than to take it at face value, but the way he settled those broad, leather-covered shoulders against the booth definitely distracted me for a second. “Fine. I don’t need to know your last name. I do need to know who you’re looking for and why. That’s not negotiable. Fenwick accepts a lot of people into his territory for a lot of different reasons. If you’re hunting someone under his protection, that won’t fly. And on the flip side, if you’re hunting someone he’d want out of Lancaster, then you might get some help.”
“It better fly.” And just like that, he sounded all grim again. What a drama queen. And I said that as someone who had lavender hair and a paisley bowtie. “I don’t care if Fenwick has him under his protection. Fenwick doesn’t have any claim on him.” He stopped, looking like he’d tasted something bitter, and his voice dropped to an impossibly low growl. “I’m looking for my mate.”
His mate. Really. Something dark and angry rose up inside me, ready to bite and kill.
I leaned forward, letting it all show in my eyes. Maybe I didn’t have his height or his muscles, but that didn’t make me any less dangerous. By the slight widening of his own eyes, he got the message.
“Your mate,” I said, very evenly. “The person you told me wouldn’t be happy to see you?”
“It’s compli—”
“You’re an alpha,” I went on more loudly, bulldozing right over him. “You’re presumably the dominant mate. Magically. Physically. So if he’s running from you, and you’re chasing him, he probably has a pretty fucking good reason—”
