Kraft’s note burned a hole in her pocket. “I’m busy. I’m call him later.”
“Better make it soon. I’m getting the impression he’s annoyed you’re not at the house yet.”
“I have no address.”
“Yet you have his phone number.” He sighed and rattled off an address. “I’m sending it to your phone as well.”
Shoot. She couldn’t pretend she didn’t know it now. “I’m at the bazaar.”
“Good. Talk to Talon. Then head over to Mercer Island.”
“Maybe.”
Max growled, “Don’t fuck this up, Riley. I already made a mess. Be better than me.”
“Relax, Max. I won’t let you down.” A glance at the time made her frown. She’d wanted to be done with the meetup earlier. Now the vampire would be well awake and definitely irked.
Max added, “Oh, wait. The messages seem to be from his boss. Some guy named Mormo. Apparently, even Hecate wants a word.”
“Hecate?” Riley said a little too loudly, gathering the attention of some nearby witches. She waved a hand at them to go away and got a few unsavory comments and middle finger flung at her. “I don’t know how I feel about having to talk to her.”
“I don’t care. Find that stupid little statue. Haggle with the goddess. Bring it home. Do all that and I’ll get Boyce to stop asking you out and my mom to stop trying to set you up.” He paused. “Don’t forget. Time is ticking, Riley.”
“I know.” She scowled. “Gotta go.”
“Love ya.”
“Love ya.” She disconnected and stood still for a moment, all the stress and pressure building with each day that approached her hundredth birthday.
The day she had to mate and start bearing young.
She thought it ludicrous that in this day and age the pack could dictate procreation for their dires. But with a low ratio of female to male lycans, to keep the pack strong and healthy, females had to reproduce. She’d avoided the idea of babies for ninety-nine years. Unlike her fellow lycans, she wasn’t dying to give birth. Sure, at some point in her long life, she wanted to have children. But at ninety-nine years young, she had too much fight in her to settle down and bear pups.
Riley blanched. Pups, as in, more than one. At eight months pregnant, Riley would change shape into her lycan form and stay that way until she birthed her young. Often as not, lycans gave birth to multiple children—a litter of lycans. After weaning her young, she’d shift back, showing her pups how to assume human form.
The prospect would be exciting when she felt ready for motherhood. But not yet. Just thinking about babies and feeding and all the yipping gave her hives.
Putting that thought behind her and cursing her cousin for reminding her of it, she hustled down the outer lane of shops and passed bartering naiads and a few mages who’d obviously had too much to drink.
“Hey sweetie. Come sit on my face,” one such charmer drawled by a home-brewed whiskey shop.
“You mean sit on my lap,” his friend said and promptly burped.
“No, I meant face. She’s awful pretty.” The charmer giggled himself silly and fell off a stool, sending his friends into gales of laughter.
Riley rolled her eyes and continued past them, heading for the Ribald Unicorn at the back, a popular shifter and animage bar. All the establishments in the marketplace, shops and fooderies included, catered to everyone. Only non-magir couldn’t enter or purchase goods. Demons especially had been forbidden to shop after causing a full riot two years ago that had nearly outed everyone to the human population.
Talon, she knew, had a regular booth and standing as a generous patron. She’d also heard that he had a thing with the owner and a few of the staff. Given his looks and charm, she readily believed that.
Though the bar had plenty of customers, the early hour proved it hadn’t yet filled to capacity, and she found Talon sitting in the back, laughing and chatting with a few people. Watching them, she thought two might have been shifters but couldn’t tell what the other two were. Mages maybe. Witches? She typically got the magic users confused, as they read too close to human to know for sure.
Talon spotted her and sat up straighter. His smile widened, his big blue eyes glued to her as she approached. He ran a hand through his lanky blond hair and turned to his friends. “Hey, guys. Get lost. I’ve got a hot date.”
They spotted her and grinned. “Oh, sure. Throw us over for a hottie with attitude. We get you.” As one, the group moved a few tables over, sat, and ordered a pitcher and food and continued to talk and laugh.
“Thanks for seeing me,” she said and joined Talon in the booth.
“Max sent word. Of course I’d never say no to a lovely visit from his favorite cousin.”
