One cursed as he spun. The other drew a knife. Both steeled their shocked expressions quickly but let gold rim their eyes.
“Fuck off, vampire,” Knife Wolf said.
“Do you belong to Lehr?” Jared asked.
“Fuck. Off.” Knife Wolf stepped toward him. They were both young wolves, turned no more than a decade ago.
“The vampire was mine to kill.”
Knife Wolf laughed. “Oh yeah? Guess you’re disappoint—”
Jared ripped out his windpipe. The wolf stumbled, blood spilling from his mangled throat as his head teetered side to side. He remained standing for an impressive amount of time before he flopped face-first to the ground.
Jared tossed the trachea onto the wolf’s back.
The second wolf snarled, then shifted. Jared caught the animal when it leaped. Its claws pierced the flesh of his arms as it went for his throat.
Jared snapped his neck, then slung him onto his dead companion.
He stared down at the bodies. Strange that they had been so ready to attack. Lehr kept a tight rein on his wolves—most of his wolves at least—and they were instructed to maintain the status quo just as Arcuro’s vampires were. It was likely these were not part of Lehr’s pack.
He did not allow himself to think on why he found some solace in that. Instead, he summoned Deagan, then moved the bodies out of sight of the parking lot. There was nothing to be done about the puddle of blood yet. He would have to remain until Deagan arrived.
It took nearly an hour before a van approached. Deagan hopped down from the passenger seat while Tyrek killed the engine.
“A swift fight, I see,” Deagan said.
Jared’s focus remained locked on the dead.
“My lord?”
He looked up and noted the worry in Deagan’s gaze, the stiffness in his shoulders. Deagan was looking for reassurance that Jared was still himself, that he had not drunk from his master, had not allowed himself to be warped and poisoned by Arcuro’s blood and savagery. Deagan need not have worried at all. Arcuro’s instructions to capture the unsanctioned youngling had not been in person; they had been a mental order.
“I am fine.” Jared turned his attention back to the dead wolves. Arcuro would be unhappy to learn that there was no one new to torture this night. “I want to know who they are.”
“Have you asked your girlfriend?” Deagan’s voice returned to its normal lively cadence. Unperturbed at Jared’s glare, he shrugged, then took out his phone and snapped pictures of the deads’ faces. Tyrek proceeded to do the dirty work, carrying the bodies of wolf and man to the van before returning to clean the blood from the cement.
“They were young,” Deagan said. “It’s odd that they would attack without an order from Lehr.”
“I am not certain they belonged to him.”
“Even if they were guests—”
“They were following Kennedy Rain.”
Deagan’s eyebrows lifted. “You believe they were unsanctioned?”
“The youngling was unsanctioned,” Jared reminded him.
“Very coincidental then, to have three stalking her in one night.”
It was. Jared had lived for centuries, and in that time, he had learned coincidences of this magnitude were extremely rare. This type of supposed happenstance tended to have an explanation. He just needed to uncover it.
“Perhaps they were moonsick,” Deagan said. “They did attack you.”
“My aura was muted. They did not know who I was.”
Deagan made a noise that would have been noncommittal coming from anyone else.
