Page 35 of Fetch Me A Mate
Maeve poured without comment, sliding the glass across scarred wood. "Trouble at the inn?"
"Nothing I can't handle."
"Right." Maeve's dark eyes studied his face. "That why you're wound tighter than a spring and prowling the square like you're hunting something?"
Rowan drained half the whiskey in one swallow, welcoming the burn. "Just want Diana's gathering to go well tomorrow."
"Diana's gathering." Maeve's tone was flat. "That what we're calling it?"
"It's what it is."
"And the extra locks? The way you've been checking sight lines and escape routes?" Maeve leaned against the bar. "That normal party planning where you come from?"
Rowan's wolf snarled at the questioning, at being cornered even by an ally. "Drop it, Maeve."
"Can't do that. This is my territory, my responsibility. If something's coming for this town, I need to know."
"It's not coming for the town."
The admission slipped out before he could stop it. Maeve's expression sharpened immediately.
"But it is coming."
Rowan finished his whiskey and signaled for another. "Yeah."
"When?"
"Soon."
"How soon?"
"Soon enough." The second whiskey burned less. "Maybe tomorrow. Maybe tonight."
Maeve poured herself a shot and matched his pace. "Pack business?"
"Former pack business."
"The kind that leaves bodies or the kind that just leaves scars?"
Rowan's hands clenched around his glass. "Depends how cooperative I am."
"And how cooperative are you planning to be?"
"Not at all."
Maeve nodded slowly. "Good. This town's got enough ghosts without adding yours to the collection."
They drank in silence for a few minutes, the weight of unspoken understanding settling between them. Outside, the square went about its normal business, oblivious to the storm brewing.
"She doesn't know, does she?" Maeve said finally. "Diana."
"No."
"Planning to tell her?"
"Planning to handle it before it becomes her problem."
"Noble. Stupid, but noble." Maeve refilled both glasses. "What if you can't handle it alone?"
