War of Hearts(14)

There was not a lot of time left to save her, and Conall couldn’t lose another member of his family.

He wouldn’t.

Chucking Callie under the chin, he grinned as she rolled her eyes and turned back around to face his waiting pack and the Canids. A man of few words, he merely watched them as the sun began to dip below the horizon, turning the leaves of the trees from green and plum to black. A burning, tingling sensation skated down his spine, signaling the call of the full moon.

A growl burrowed up from deep in his gut and he felt the sting of his teeth elongating. He yanked his shirt over his head and threw it aside. “Ceannsaichidh an Fhìrinn!” He bellowed their clan motto in Scottish Gaelic, the words warped by the guttural rumble of his wolf.

His pack lowered to their knees; everyone but Peter and Richard Canid followed suit. A pack alpha did not bow to another pack alpha, that was understood. Richard, however, should have been on his knees beside Sienna. His father clamped a hand on his shoulder and forced him to them.

While Conall’s packs’ expressions strained from the forced beginnings of the shift, Richard’s strained with distaste. Conall concentrated every inch of his powerful energy toward the recalcitrant pup and watched the blood leach from Richard’s face as he felt the power of the alpha overwhelm him. He fell to his knees, trembling.

Conall’s pack felt his power too, their own growls, purrs, and howls filling the air. And then as one they all cried, “Ceannsaichidh an Fhìrinn!”

Truth Conquers.

Their truth conquered them every full moon, and they reveled in it.





The studio apartment Thea rented was farther into the Nowa Huta district than the last, which meant an even farther and more expensive commute to the pub restaurant on Stolarska. But there didn’t appear to be any vampires nearby, so Thea was calling it a win.

Not that the shitty apartment with its stained mattress could normally be considered a win.

However, the apartment was not what was on Thea’s mind. For the last few days, she’d felt like someone was watching her and she was constantly on guard. Suspicious that the vampire called Abram might have followed her scent, she’d been looking over her shoulder everywhere she went. Today that feeling of being watched was heightened but since there was no internal warning of danger, she didn’t let herself get too worked up about it.

Still, it was annoying. Every time she swept the busy bar for a possible source, she couldn’t find anyone paying any particular attention to her.

Well, that wasn’t strictly true. The middle-aged American couple she was serving were watching her with a gleam in their eyes she recognized and did not like. She nicknamed them The Oranges as soon as they walked in because they were both wearing fake tan. They weren’t exactly orange, but it was obvious their current skin color had been purchased. The Oranges signaled to her as she was passing. “I’ll be right there,” she promised.

Once she’d given an order to the kitchen, she reluctantly returned to the couple’s table. “Would you like to see the dessert menu?”

Mr. Orange curled his finger at her. An unpleasant feeling roiled in Thea’s stomach as she bent toward him.

“My wife and I,” he said in her ear, his lips almost touching her skin, “were wondering …” Thea felt his hand smooth over her ass. “If you’d like to join us at our hotel after your shift? We’ll generously compensate you.”

If Thea hadn’t been exposed to the worst of humanity at such a young age, perhaps she would have scoffed to hear such a story. It was so cliché. A western couple with more money than sense trying to pick up a poor fellow countrywoman in a foreign country working a menial job, to prostitute her for their shared pleasure.

Well, clichés were clichés for a reason.

They were often goddamn true.

And it wasn’t the first time Thea had to brush off that kind of offer.

She pushed his hand from her ass and straightened. “I’ll bring you and your wife the check and then you should probably leave.”

Mr. Orange’s face reddened to blood orange with indignation while Mrs. Orange’s lips pinched together. Not long later Thea gave them the check and returned to get the cash they’d left while they were over at the alcove by the door to the kitchen, shrugging into their coats.

They hadn’t left a tip.

At all.

The guy felt her up and then attempted to prostitute her and he hadn’t even had the decency to tip her.

The bitter ugliness that Thea tried so hard to fight down bloomed in her chest. Pasting a serene expression on her face, she strolled toward the kitchen and just as she reached Mr. Orange, she pretended to trip on a chair leg. Colliding with him, she expertly slipped her hand inside his coat to the inner pocket where he kept his wallet and withdrew it. As they fumbled against each other, she slipped the wallet into her apron pocket.

It all happened in a matter of seconds. No one was the wiser.

“I am so sorry.” She gave an embarrassed, innocent smile as she stepped away from him.

“Clumsy girl,” Mr. Orange huffed, tugging on the lapels of his coat.

“Really, I’m so sorry. You have a wonderful day.” Thea turned away as Mrs. Orange muttered something insulting about Thea to her husband, thinking she couldn’t hear.

Smirking to herself, Thea wandered through the kitchen, grabbed a filled trash bag, and stepped out into the alley behind the restaurant. The feeling of being watched lessened, and she dumped the trash before opening the wallet. She grinned seeing the wad of zlotys and promptly hid the wallet beneath the wheel arch of the left back tire of Anthony’s car. Zuzanna said the car had sat untouched in the alley for months because he hated driving in the city.