Score one for the ghost of Sir Reginald!
Cassia has rearranged the seating, placing Rafe as far away from me as possible. I should be able to enjoy myself, but I feel Rafe’s eyes boring into me from the other side of the room. I wait until one of Pru’s other friends gets up to leave, and I stand up too; I need to get away from Rafe’s glower, and I need some sleep before I have to be up at three to finish my baking.
“Not so fast, Sophie,” growls Rafe behind me.
I turn around to face him, my pulse skittering nervously. “What’s the problem?”
“I thought we were friends.”
“Friends don’t send threatening messages and place their hands where they’re not wanted.”
“I haven’t threatened anyone,” he protests, adding, “I thought you were a fun girl, but you’re just a dud.”
“Well, this is one dud who wants to be left alone,” I hiss. “Got it?”
He squints at me through hooded eyes and snarls, “Yeah, I got it.”
Julien, the wedding photographer, wanders into the hall with Cassia; he has a camera slung over one shoulder and a tripod under his arm. He glances from me to Rafe and says, “Hey, Sophie, I was just heading out to my truck; why don’t I escort you.”
Cassia obviously put him up to it, and I’m grateful to them both. “Sounds good, Julien. Thanks.”
Julien waits until I’ve started my car before walking to his truck. As I drive away, I notice Rafe standing in the parking lot. But he’s no longer tracking my departure;instead he’s sniffing the air, like he’s caught the scent of something he doesn’t like.
So long as he stays away from me and my loved ones, I don’t care who he’s chasing next.
Chapter 25
A Whiff of Trouble
TEDDY
Friday, July 13
I left my car in an inconspicuous spot at the edge of the parking lot, where the asphalt ends and the woods begin. I’m leaning against a sturdy tree trunk, my arms folded across my chest, on the lookout for whoever is hassling Sophie.
My breath hitches as she emerges from the restaurant wearing a shimmery purple dress and high heels, her long hair falling in soft, silky waves around her shoulders. My heart cracks a bit more at the realization we won’t be working together any longer; not only did Sophie fire me from my job at the bakery, but Phoebe Spellman will be back at work next week, which means the café will be fully staffed. I rub the ache in the center of my chest, which feels hollowed out as I gaze at my mate.
As Sophie strides into the parking lot I creep closer,using the thick bushes at the edge of the woods to remain hidden. Tracking a strange werewolf would be a lot easier if I could shift, but there are too many non-supers inside the supper club, and I don’t want to scare anyone with my fuzzy muzzle and tail.
Hang on! Who’s the guy walking Sophie out to her dented silver Forester? I raise my nose and sniff; he’s a vampire! Growling low, my hands curl into fists at my sides. Sophie and Jake may have vampire friends here in Riddle Hill, but the vamps back home were smug, superior, and never helped anyone outside their own clan.
“Thanks, Julien,” whispers Sophie.
“No problem,” replies the vampire. “Do you need me to follow you home?”
Sophie shakes her head. “I’ll be fine.”
The vampire waits until Sophie starts her car before he moves away; that’s when I notice he’s lugging camera equipment, and I realize this is the wedding photographer. I suppose if Cassia trusts this vampire, he must be alright.
That’s when I smellhim.
My heart seizes in my chest, my body goes rigid with fear and fury, and then the flashback hits, sending me reeling backward. Beads of perspiration form on my brow as I break into a clammy sweat. Shuddering, I grip the nearest tree branch for support as memories of that night descend on me with the strength of a gale-force wind.
Jarrod is lying on the ground, surrounded by two werewolves: Drew, our disloyal beta, and his dark-furred, anonymous companion with the pungent, ashy scent. Both wolvesturn toward me, their lips curling to reveal razor-sharp fangs. When they attack, I flail my limbs and howl, completely outmatched. I cringe even now as I recall that horrific beating and my accompanying shame; not only was my alpha dying, but I could do nothing to help him or defend myself.
Drew had called me a useless werewolf more than once, and he wasn’t wrong. But that other werewolf, the one I now realize is Rafe, was even crueler. As I lay curled up in a ball on the grass, Drew barked, turned, and loped away. But Rafe pulled back his leg and gave me one more swift, hard kick before leaving.
And now that same werewolf is swiveling his head in my direction—Rafe’s caught my scent!
