Mabel whined, drawing the attention of both of them. She gazed at them pitifully.
“Aw,” Kit said. “She’s feeling left out.”
“Just as long as you don’t give her the same attention you paid to me,” Quin said.
“Quin!” Kit did a good impression of someone who was offended, but Quin saw beneath the façade. As Kit knelt down by the fire to give Mabel some dog-appropriate loving, Quin reclined on the sofa, watching them both.
He couldn’t imagine that he could want anything else in that moment other than their small slice of domesticity.
THIRTEEN
Kit
Anticipation thrummedthrough Kit as he ran out of town, towards the woods. Despite the thick layer of cloud darkening the sky and obscuring the full moon, Quin would be waiting in his wolf form. Kit couldn’t wait to see him that way again.
Kit wasn’t far into the wilderness when he came to a halt, spotting a few figures getting out of an ostentatious silver Range Rover. In a single bound, they jumped the stone wall that bordered the farmland. A few strides forward, and Kit made out their faces as they moved swiftly through the field bordering the woods.
It was Conroy and the two female vampires from the nest. The three wore identical outfits; tan linen shirts with multiple pockets and matching trousers, tucked into knee-high brown boots of the same colour as the wide-brimmed hats on their heads and the thick belts around their waists. Conroy had forgone his usual cravat, this time choosing a white scarf knotted at the base of his throat. The ends dangled down over his chest, where his unbuttoned shirt lay so far open that Kit saw a flash of nipple. The most alarming and implausible addition to theoutfits, however, were the large rifles slung over each of their shoulders.
They looked like they were on safari in Kenya, not hanging about on the outskirts of a Scottish former fishing town. They were so out of place it would have been comical, if not for the guns.
“Evenin’, Kit,” Conroy shouted across the field with a mock-salute.
Kit started, not realising they’d spotted him. Dread churned in his gut as he dashed over to them, stopping a dozen feet away. The wind gusted around them, tugging at their clothing and whipping Kit’s curls in front of his eyes.
“What’s going on?” he asked, dispensing with pleasantries.
“You remember Tati and Kezia, don’t you?” Conroy said, gesturing to them. Tati was the one who’d been hanging off Conroy the last time he’d seen her, with a long aristocratic nose and plucked eyebrows in two crescent moons above hooded eyes. Kezia was the younger of the two, the one who’d had the audacity to call Kit adorable. Judging from the pinched expression on her overly made-up face, she no longer held the sentiment.
“Sure,” Kit said. “Now, are you going to answer my question?”
“Gosh, no need to be such a curmudgeon,” Kezia said.
Conroy laughed as if what she’d said had been funny. Kit failed to see the humour in it.
“What’s with the guns?” Kit asked.
“Tati reminded me you’d come to see us about a werewolf. It’s a full moon. We fancied a good old-fashioned hunt,” Conroy said, gazing at Tati with undisguised affection.
“I miss being able to hunt big game,” she simpered. “It’s far too easy nowadays, but Master says that werewolves are fasterand stronger than any other animal.” She hefted her gun, teeth gleaming in a toothy smile. “A true challenge.”
Kit’s insides flipped. “He’s not an animal, and you won’t be hunting him.”
Conroy’s brows pulled together. “The last time you came to me, you said I should get rid of him.”
“Well, that was before!”
“Before…?”
Kit swallowed. “Before I got to know him. Everything’s all right now. No need to do this. I have it under control.”
Tati stomped her foot like an entitled child. “But, Master, I wanted to hunt the werewolf.”
“Darlin’,” Conroy soothed. “It’s fine. We can hunt the werewolf.”
The combination of the pet name and Conroy’s insistence on hunting Quin had Kit snapping his fangs. “You’ll hunt no one,” he hissed.
“Werewolves are just big animals, aren’t they?” Kezia asked, more to Conroy than to Kit. His claws lengthened as he imagined tearing her tongue from her mouth for daring to ask such a thing.
