Page 8 of Craved By the Werewolf
It's not like I hadn't seen him before—at fundraisers for Haven House, across the crowd at town events—but nothing had prepared me for the full impact of him up close. He was tall, taller than I'd expected, with shoulders that made the doorway look undersized and a presence that pulled the airtight around him. Black hair. A sharply cut jaw. Eyes the color of smoke catching the moonlight.
Those eyes swept the room with quick, predatory precision before landing on me.
"Ms. Nightingale." His voice was exactly what I'd imagined and nothing like I'd prepared for—polished on the surface, but with a low, underlying current that made my instincts sit up and take notice. "Nice to see you again."
"Vala," I said, standing to shake his hand.
His palm was warm, callused from whatever an Alpha did with his days, and when his fingers closed around mine, the contact wasn't just touch—it was a ripple of heat through my entire body.
"Thorne." He didn't let go right away, and there was the faintest lift to one corner of his mouth, like he already knew my pulse had kicked up.
"So," I said, reclaiming my hand and some shred of composure, "thanks for doing this. I heard media isn't exactly your favorite thing."
"It's for a good cause." He sank into the guest chair like it belonged to him, all ease and quiet confidence. Most guests got twitchy around the studio setup, the microphones, the red ON AIR light. Thorne looked like he'd come to bend it all to his will.
"Yes. Haven House." I sat, suddenly aware of how the space between us felt charged in a way the equipment hum couldn't explain. "Before we go live, any topics off-limits?"
"None."
I raised an eyebrow. "None? You sure? I have a reputation for asking uncomfortable questions."
A flicker passed in his eyes—amusement, maybe. "I can handle uncomfortable."
And there it was, that first quiet warning that this was not going to be the safe, predictable fifteen minutes I'd told myself it would be.
Mika's voice came through my headphones. "Sixty seconds, Vala."
"Okay," I said, shifting into my late-night host mindset. "We'll do introductions, talk House Party security, plug Haven House, maybe take a call or two if we have time. Sound good?"
"Whatever you think is best."
Of course he'd leave it up to me. Probably thought the whole thing was beneath him. We'd see about that.
"And we're live in three... two..."
The red ON AIR light flashed, and my voice slipped into the smooth cadence my night crawlers tuned in for. "Welcome back to Nightingale, night crawlers. Things are about to heat up in the studio." I shot him a sideways look, and those gold eyes met mine without flinching. "I've got a very special guest tonight—someone you all know by reputation, if not by sight. He keeps Mystic Ridge safe, he's tall enough to change your lightbulbs without a ladder, and rumor has it he once made a vampire apologize for jaywalking. Please welcome Thorne Kaine, Alpha of the Mystic Ridge Pack and head of security for our upcoming House Party fundraiser."
Thorne leaned toward his mic. "Thanks for having me, Vala."
The way he said my name—low, deliberate—sent a little flutter through my chest. Professional, I reminded myself. Keep it professional.
"So, Thorne, House Party's coming up fast. For those who've never been, what exactly are they getting themselves into?"
"A celebration." The quiet authority in his voice made the word feel like a command. "Over four thousand partygoers in one location, raising money for Haven House. Live music, vendors, activities for all ages, and comprehensive security to make sure everyone enjoys themselves safely."
"A celebration—I like that." I smiled, leaning in just enough to match his presence. "Now, let's talk security. This isn't your average event, is it? You're dealing with vampires who might get a little too enthusiastic, werewolves who could shift unexpectedly, witches with temperamental magic..."
"And humans who think they know how to mingle with the supernatural," he added smoothly.
"Ouch. Shots fired at the human population," I teased, letting a laugh into my voice.
His expression didn't change much, but his eyes warmed—just slightly. "Fair point, though."
"So how do you prepare for that kind of diversity?"
"Experience. Planning. And making sure everyone understands the rules before they enter the venue." His gaze locked with mine. "Most problems can be prevented with clear communication and appropriate consequences for those who choose not to listen."
There was a subtle weight on those last words that made the back of my neck prickle. "And what happens to the troublemakers who don't listen?"
