Eli wasn’t proud that he needed her help to stand, but he took it, and as they touched, he felt a strong urge to hold on. Or pull her closer. But he was also convinced she could kill him without batting an eye, so he took a seat in her visitor’s chair while she fiddled with a coffee pot in the corner of the office.
The rich scent of the brew steadied him, and when she set a cup in front of him, he risked meeting her gaze. “I should apologize, I suppose.”
“That would be a good start.”
“Are there any other…’mythical creatures’ I should know about?” He didn’t want an answer. Not truly. But he had to ask.
Farren sank into her leather chair and started ticking her fingers one by one. “Vampires, elementals, practitioners—commonly called witches by humans—fae, sprites, ghosts...” she pursed her lips briefly before adding, “yetis.”
“Yetis?” Coffee threatened to exit his nose at great speed, but he choked on the sip just in time. “What about the Loch Ness Monster?”
“Nessie? She’s an elephant who got stuck in Scotland years ago and decided she loved to swim. Nothin’ mythical about her.”
“Oh. Well, that’s reassuring.”
You sound like a complete dolt. Snap out of it.
Despite his inner voice yelling at him, he couldn’t seem to form any coherent or intelligent questions, and after a full minute of awkward silence, Farren sighed. “Is it all right if I call ya’ Eli?”
“Fine. And...?”
“Farren. No one calls me Ms. Denair.” After another sip of coffee, she reached into her pocket, withdrew a folded piece of paper, and spread it out in front of him. “Is this the old woman ya’ saw in the Greenwich pub?”
The drawing was a bit rough—not unlike his memories—but the likeness was uncanny. “It is.”
“Then you, Eli, have some purpose here, and if we don’t find out what it is, a number of people I care about could pay the price.”
* * *
Farren
Eli’s bronzed skin paled, but to his credit, he sat up a little straighter. “What do you mean ‘pay the price’?”
She wasn’t sure how much to tell him. Somewhere between nothing and everything?
“A few months ago, an earth elemental by the name of Fergus Tharp came to town, and within a week, he’d killed three. Includin’ my beta, Colin.” Saying the words made her heart hurt, but she held Eli’s gaze, refusing to give in to the almost overwhelming wave of grief.
“Your...beta?” Confusion pinched his brows. “I don’t understand.”
“Ya’ know nothin’ about wolves? About packs?”
“Am I supposed to? I have a degree from Cambridge, Farren. In art history. The animal kingdom wasn’t covered in any of my classes.”
“Ya’ don’t have to be condescending.” Restless, she got to her feet and started to pace the length of her office as Eli swiveled his chair around. “Most werewolves are a part of a pack. Within the pack, we’ve an alpha and a beta. I take it ya’ can figure out who’s in charge out of the two?”
“Now who’s being condescending?”
Point: Eli.
“I’m the alpha of the Doolin pack.” She stood up a little straighter on instinct, even though she wasn’t sure she could call herself an alpha anymore with half her pack gone. “Colin, he was one of my oldest friends, and the best damn beta. And Fergus Tharp killed him. Right after he tried to do the same to me.”
Eli leaned forward, and concern darkened his emerald eyes. “Is that where you got that scar?”
Her hand went instinctively to her side, and pain snaked all around her torso. “Saw that, did ya’? I thought ya’ were bein’ a gentleman.”
That brought a spot of color back to his cheeks. “I tried.”
With a strained chuckle, she let him off the hook. “Ya’ had permission. Better ya’ understood quickly than fight with me all day.”
