September Moon (Alexa O'Brien, Huntress #8)(43)

The wolf in me retreated, backing down in awareness of the truth he spoke. Juliet’s gaze dropped to the pavement. Neither of us dared to be the first to respond.

Juliet turned away and barked, “Boys, get this body out of my sight. Make it fast.” To me, she said, “Alexa, we’ll talk later. I’ve got to get back to HQ.”

Without a glance in my direction she kept walking, leaving the agents to scramble to do her bidding. Most of them were twice her age. I wondered how she suddenly had so much clout. I guess screwing one of the bosses came with a promotion.

That thought was accompanied by guilt. Some might say I screwed my way to greater power too.

“Have a good night, Juliet,” I muttered to her retreating form. Taking Willow by the arm, I led him away. Once out of earshot of the agents, I groaned. “Telling her was a mistake. I can feel it in my bones.”

“It might feel that way, but fear is deceptive. Trusting her again will be difficult. But it might be a risk worth taking. Give her a chance.” Willow slung an arm around my shoulders and pulled me close in a half hug.

My phone rang as I approached the car. Digging it out of my pocket, I groaned when the call display showed me Justin’s number.

“What’s going on?” I answered, knowing he only called when something was up. Could this night just chill out already? God I needed a spa day.

“There’s a wolf here that insists he needs to talk to you. Big guy. Older. Says his name is Dayne.” Justin paused to shout at someone in the background to get off the bar. “Should I toss him out?”

“No, get him a booth and anything he wants to drink, on the house. I’m on my way.” After I hung up, I turned to Willow. “That’s weird. The Doghead Alpha is waiting for me at The Wicked Kiss.”

We got in the car and headed for downtown. My mind raced as I tried to imagine what Dayne could possibly want. The real question was did I really want to know?

“This might be a good thing,” Willow mused. “You wanted an alliance with his wolves. Maybe that’s what he wants to discuss.”

The effects of the tequila had faded quickly once the drinking had stopped. It was a handy perk of being a werewolf. Intoxicants didn’t affect us the way it did humans. It took a hell of a lot of booze to put down a shifter. However, it had left me feeling tired. Or maybe that was the stress. I hoped Dayne didn’t mind the delay, but I was hitting a Starbucks drive-thru on my way.

The Wicked Kiss was at its peak when we arrived. A line of people waited to get inside. That had once concerned me. Now it was a relief. As long as the humans were lining up to be victimized, it would keep the public kill numbers down. At least, that was the plan.

Arys’s old and rarely driven Firebird was gone. I breathed a sigh of relief. I’d been afraid he would spend all night in the back with Jenner, reliving their glory days. I wondered if Shya had cursed him as well, though I knew nothing of the demon swiping any DNA from Arys.

“I’ll hang out at the bar,” Willow said as we crossed the parking lot to the front entry. “Let me know if you need anything.”

“You don’t have to hang around here if there’s something else you’d rather be doing. Trust me, I would understand.”

“No, it’s cool. I have nowhere else to be.”

It wasn’t hard to figure this one out. He wasn’t just tagging along to keep me company. He was protecting me. “Willow, is there a reason you’re sticking to me like glue tonight?”

“Someone has to,” he grinned. “It’s my job. And I’m happy to do it.”

I frowned, feeling insecure and a little worried. Willow had suffered enough. I didn’t want him becoming a target for Shya. He’d already been down that road.

“Don’t take any crazy risks for me, ok?”

“What’s that? I can’t hear you.” He shouted over the noise as we bypassed the line and crossed through the lobby. “Go deal with your visitor. I’ll catch up with you after.”

I couldn’t help but laugh. He had definitely heard me. It was easy to see why Christina had fallen in love with him. He was so caring and easily the most selfless person I knew. Why did those types always get the shit end of the stick? It was so unfair.

Justin pointed me in Dayne’s direction. I found him sitting alone in a back corner booth, his meaty hand clasped around a beer bottle. A single empty sat in the middle of the table.

He looked up at my approach. His expression never changed. It was neutral, almost forced. Wearing a leather vest over a t-shirt and worn jeans, he still had that menacing air I’d found intimidating. Ice-cold blue eyes looked me over as I slid into the booth across from him. It wasn’t the way a man appraises a woman but the way one wolf appraises another. It was unsettling.

“Sorry about the wait. I was across town when I got the call that you were here.” I extended a hand in greeting, anxious when he waited a few long, awkward seconds before taking it. His hand was warm and big, making my hand look child-like in comparison. Dayne gave my fingers a squeeze before releasing me.

“Your hand is cold,” he said, low and gruff. “Unusual for a werewolf.”

I felt uncomfortable with his spoken observance. Hiding my hands in my lap, I said, “Well, I’m not your usual werewolf. Anyway, what brings you by?”