world didn’t exist.
His pack and other packs like it policed the shadows, exacting payback on misbehaving monsters that preyed on the humans in this jurisdiction. The goal was to keep the peace and maintain Were secrets, and Derek had taken this goal to a whole new level after the woman he had loved left Seattle because of the influx of monsters.
There was also the fact that his ex-lover hadn’t known about his secret wolfish life and the moon that ruled his kind. But that was history.
His fault.
Long story.
The packmate he had been expecting silently slid into place behind him, barely ruffling the air. Derek didn’t have to turn around to know who this was. Dale Duncan was a fearless cop and no stranger to things that went bump in the night. Officer Duncan was good to have around no matter what outline he presented to the world.
The two of them could have taken on a slew of vampires. These fledglings had to know it. Word traveled fast in underground circles.
Bathed in moonlight, he and Dale stood like sentries near the entrance to the alley. There was nowhere for these bloodsuckers to go. As newbies they’d be full of themselves and energized by their recent kill. Maybe they didn’t yet know about all that ancient enemy shit between Weres and vampires, and that it continued today. Was it possible they believed vampires were the superior species?
When 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
