“Hold,” her father ordered, and the wolves remained in place.
Nora felt anchored to the ground as well. Her mouth watered. She could almost taste blood.
Luke’s wolf, dark brown with a black stripe down his back, play bowed in front of a weakening Tate.
What an ass.
Tate made a messy, desperate lunge toward Luke. Luke leaped over him, and when Tate spun to follow, his intestines slipped from a deep gash in his belly.
He crumpled to the dirt. Tried to stand again.
Luke pounced on his back and then to his opposite side.
Tate lifted his head, trying to track him.
Luke sank his fangs into the other wolf’s neck and held on while Tate struggled.
Luke could have ended it then—he could have ended the whole thing minutes ago—but he prolonged the killing, letting Tate bleed out.
When Tate’s presence—his unique, telltale glow in the web of light that connected the pack—finally faded from her mind, Luke released him, sat back on his haunches, and howled.
Most of the pack shifted then. They joined the celebration of the kill while her father looked on with approval.
Nora squeezed her phone tight. She didn’t remember taking it from her pocket again, but it was unlocked and Craig’s text glowed up at her.
More people shifted. Nora resisted the pull and tapped in a response. She started to put the phone away.
“Run with us,” Blake said.
Her hand tightened almost to the point of breaking the device. She didn’t know whether Blake’s order was his own or his alpha’s, but her wolf needed to follow it. Her wolf needed to race the night.
She took Blake’s check out of her pocket, then set it and her phone down and shifted.
7
Nora brought a knife on her date. It was a small sgian dubh, gifted to her by an Irish wolf who believed in the whole fated-mates shit. She’d politely accepted it before jabbing it through his palm when he’d tried to touch her. Funny enough, he’d decided he was fated to be with someone else.
She let Craig open her door. His cologne mixed with the smells of the city. No scent of vampire yet, and the person manning Swirl’s door was human. The bloodsuckers would be inside though. She was sure of it.
Anticipation made her buzz with energy. It attracted attention from her date and from the human at the door. They didn’t see anything, didn’t know why they were staring or what it was they sensed, but she could have asked for almost anything and they would have scrambled to make it happen. It was werewolf magic, a force that made her the most powerful and charismatic person in the room.
“Do you have a table preference?” Craig asked.
“Let’s sit at the bar.” She was already striding that way. Laila was there, leaning against the counter while the human bartenders attended to the guests. She straightened when she sensed Nora, and their eyes met.
Interesting choice to have Laila watching the place. Her restraint had broken on Saturday, and only Jared’s order to leave kept her from going for Nora’s throat. Most Aged vampires wouldn’t give their scions a second chance. Jared was testing Laila, seeing if she had learned to better control herself.
“Laila.” Craig slid onto a barstool. “You remember Nora, don’t you?”
Laila smiled. “I do. What can I get for you?”
He looked at Nora. “What are you in the mood for?”
“I changed my mind,” Nora said, eyes locked on Laila. “Why don’t you find us a table?”
“Sure.” Craig didn’t even hesitate. He slid off his stool and made his way toward the hostess.
“How far away is your master?” Nora asked.
