Derek’s packmate growled menacingly, the ground shook. Near the opposite end of the alley, a tin can rolled.
“Monsters have to try to fit in now,” Derek silently chastised. But the warning wouldn’t have done much good if the vamps had heard it.
He added, “Werewolves, for the most part, have evolved alongside our human counterparts and most of the time can fit in with the society surrounding us. You guys have obviously never gotten the memo.”
A slight, sudden wave of extra pressure in the darkness suggested movement. The back of Derek’s neck tingled in acknowledgment of what that meant.
“Any minute now,” Dale messaged.
What Derek failed to mention in all this was his anxiousness over finding himself less than half a block from the building his ex-lover had once occupied—the same building where real vamp trouble in Seattle had begun two years back. His pack had cleaned out this area after that event. Keeping the public from finding out about it had been a cleanup job worthy of the Nobel Prize.
So what the hell had happened?
Why were the vampires back?
Even the smallest twitch was a waste of energy, but Derek rolled his neck to ease some of the tension building there. Waiting made him angry. There were too many memories in and around this place.
When he heard the swish of a swipe of claws, he nodded. Dale had torn holes in his jeans, and the scent of blood filled the air. “Smart move,” Derek messaged. That smell might draw vampires lacking the facts about how bad furred-up werewolves tasted.
However, a positive outcome was never completely assured when dealing with fanged hordes that were almost subliminally fast on their feet and ruled by an outrageous thirst that no one alive could possibly have understood.
Derek dared a quick sideways glance to calculate the exact distance to the building he had often visited in the past in order to court and bed McKenna Randall.
Too damn close.
His nerves buzzed. His skin burned white-hot. Hell, he still missed having a talented bed partner.
“The place is cursed,” Dale messaged to him.
Derek grunted in agreement.
Both of them knew what to expect here. There weren’t going to be any surprises in this alley tonight, hopefully.
To catch more moonlight, Derek took a step forward. Silvery moon particles settled on his bare shoulders like a hot lover’s breath, setting off a series of internal sparks that in turn started a chain reaction. All of that centered on the word anger. And okay, maybe also a more personal need for revenge.
Behind him, Dale was experiencing something similar and waiting for the signal to get this over with.
Tired of playing hide-and-seek, Derek gave that signal.
Riley Price blinked back an almost supernatural wave of fatigue and unlocked her car without getting in. She leaned briefly against the cool metal of her silver sedan and glanced up at the moon, wondering if she should howl at that big round disc the way werewolves did in the movies.
She sighed instead.
The hours at work this week had been long and tough to get through, leaving little energy for extras no matter how fun those extras could have been. After her first days on the job, she could have used a little jolt of excitement. Listening to other people’s problems day in and day out was exhausting, especially when she had a few fantasies of her own.
Wasn’t that the premier joke about psychologists—that people in this kind of field went into it because of their own need for answers?
The boulevard was crowded with people coming and going at 9:00 p.m. Shouts, laughter and revving car engines nearly drowned out the sound of the keys jangling in her hand.
And there was something else, wasn’t there? Beyond those normal city noises, Riley could have sworn she heard another sound. Something that didn’t quite fit in.
If she hadn’t just thought about howling at the damn moon, she might have imagined that someone else had.
“It sure sounded like that,” she muttered.
The back of her neck chilled. In spite of the common sense she had always been known for, she secretly wished for adventure. It was one of those personal issues she had to deal with. The desire for a little action was probably what was craved by every female who had done her schoolwork straight through and ended up in a job with no break whatsoever.
Riley Price, PhD. Helpful, empathetic, on her way to becoming successful and, these days, quite bland. Bland on the outside, at least. Deep inside her was where her more rebellious ways had always been corralled.
She turned back to the car, opened the door and slid carefully onto the seat, respecting the restriction of her black pencil skirt. But she didn’t get both feet inside before that same eerie, slightly discomforting sound came again from somewhere in the distance.
A wolf’s haunting howl?
“You know you have a vivid imagination,” she reminded herself with a stern head shake. One strange belief too many and she, in spite of all her education in this area, would be in need of a psychiatrist’s comfy couch.
How many times had she thought that she should have become a cop like her father and let out all of her pent-up energy? For cops, the world was viewed in black-and-white terms, without too many murky gray zones. As it was, her need for independence and a life of her own outside of law enforcement had dictated taking another route toward helping people. So here she was, several states away from her family in Arizona, and on her own.
One more head shake ought to do it.
“Wolves in downtown Seattle? Give me a break.”
Feet in the car, key in the ignition, Riley released a slow breath and closed the door, then paused before starting the engine. Opening the door again might have been willful, but she did so anyway. She hoped to hear a repeat of that eerie sound and wished that things didn’t actually have to be black and white in terms of reasonableness and reality.
She shivered at the incoming breeze of cool night air and was overtaken by a sudden onslaught of chills that weren’t related to a change in the weather. Waves of ice dripped down the back of her neck to lay siege to sensitive skin beneath her baby blue sweater. She did hear that howl again, didn’t she?
“I’m sure I did.”
This third sound made it seem like there had been no mistake. Someone had howled. Not something, because everyone knew there were no wolves in the city and no such things as werewolves. So who, like her, was digging into the beauty and mythology of this full moon? Who, like her, had watched a few too many movies that had activated their imagination?
She could try to find out. Chase down those sounds. Meet that person. Though
