Page 2 of Craved By the Werewolf
"Anytime, sweetie. Now get off my line before I tell a secret about my last vampire encounter." I tapped the button off and grinned at Mika, who rolled her eyes but was smiling too.
The vampire caller hung up, and I queued my final set of the night—a moody track from The Shifting Skins followed by the latest from Stoneborn.
"Alright, my moonlit misfits, before I send you slinking back into the shadows, a quick PSA. Someone—and you know who you are—left a necklace on the station steps last week. Pretty little silver thing, humming with a love spell so strong it nearly knocked me off my stilettos. Cute, but also? Bold move."
I let the words linger, watching the phone board out of the corner of my eye.
"I'd just like to know who thought this was the way to my heart. Was it you, tall-dark-and-furry from Friday night? Or maybe our charming bass player from Moonfang? Whoever it was, you've got exactly one week to claim it before I pawn it for coffee money."
The first line lit up. Then the second. By the time the chorus of Stoneborn hit, every single one of them was flashing like the town tree at Winterlight Festival.
I didn't answer a single one.
Instead, I leaned back, grinning to myself, and let the music roll.
"Okay, my little demons, House Party is right around the corner, so get your tickets to Haven House's annual fundraiser—because nothing says 'support our youth' like dancing until dawn with vampires, werewolves, and whatever the hell those orb things from the forest are. Trust me, you haven't lived until you've seen a dragon swoop the stage."
I leaned in, my voice dropping to something more genuine than my usual radio snark. "Haven House isn't just another charity. It's a lifeline for kids who have nowhere else to go. Kids figuring out what they are, what they can do, and that they're not alone. I've seen it change lives."
For a split second, the memory of being scared and alone flashed through my mind. The weight of those dark days before Haven House had found me. Before I'd found a place to belong.
I pushed it away. Some stories weren't meant for the airwaves.
"Tickets available at havenhouse.org, and yeah, it's for a good cause, and it's just epic."
The music swelled, and I slid into my signature send-off. "That's our witching hour, night crawlers. This goes out to the last caller and my friends at the 10th Street Blood Bank—I'm told the Bloodlust boys are heading your way tonight with their new hit 'I'm a Sucker for Your Love.' Lock your doors... or don't." I let my voice drop to its most intimate tone. "This is Nightingale, your midnight messenger slipping into the mist."
I cut my mic, pulled off my headphones, and leaned back with a satisfied sigh.
Through the glass, Mika's shadow shifted. A second later, she was at the door with a mug in one hand and a stack of papers in the other. Time for the post-show reality check.
The control room door swung open, and Mika slipped in with a steaming mug in one hand and a stack of papers in the other. She had that look—equal parts mischief and mild guilt—the one she only used when she was about to drop a conversational grenade in my lap.
"Lavender tea, extra honey," she said, setting it in front of me. "Plus, a splash of that throat tonic from the witchy shop downtown."
I sniffed the steam, suspicious. "What exactly is in this tonic?"
"Nothing that'll kill you," she said with a grin, sliding into the guest chair. Then she propped her chin on one hand and asked, all casual, "So... good news or bad news first?"
"Bad," I said without hesitation. Always better to rip the bandage off before the antiseptic.
She didn't miss a beat. "You've got a co-host for House Party this year."
I froze, mug halfway to my lips. "No."
"Yes."
"Who, why?"
Her smile was pure evil. "Thorne Kaine."
The tea sloshed dangerously. "The Alpha? Our Alpha? At my event?"
"Technically, it's Haven House's event."
"Mika."
"Vala."
