From past experience, that’s about eight hunters.
Cal comes to stand alongside me. “Is it me, or does their timing seem too much of a coincidence?” He rubs a hand across his jaw. “We aren’t due a hunter check for another few months. Funny they happen to be in the area when we have guests.”
“You think someone tipped them off?”
“Maybe. Or maybe they heard something in town that they weren’t fucking supposed to.”
I turn to look at him. “Ash?”
He shrugs.
“He wouldn’t say anything,” Morgan cuts in.
Cal alters his stance to include him in the conversation. “Maybe not intentionally, but hunters have a bad habit of hearing shit you don’t want them to.”
“Heads-up,” Jet interrupts as the cars pull to a halt, uncomfortably close to the line of bikes in front of the house. “Wankers,” he hisses, and Flint grunts in agreement.
They both take a seat on the table, with Morgan standing next to them. I have the strongest urge to pull him into my side, and swallowing the instinct to keep him safe is like pressing hard on a bruise.
It hurts.
After our chat in the forest, I suspect Morgan would tell me to piss off if I tried it. And he’d be right.
I have no claim on him. And the last thing I need to do is draw attention to him.
To us.
If we’re gonna sell the lie that he’s a prospect, then I need to ignore him. Act like I don’t give a shit.
I shove my hands in my pockets and wait as the SUV’s doors start to open.
Oh Goddess.
Tanner Grey gets out of the back of the first car. All six foot, four inches of him. Dark brown eyes swing our way at the sametime as Jet lets out a bone chillingly low growl. It sets my teeth on edge and has Grey freezing in place.
Something flashes in his eyes, but I’m too far away to decipher it. His gaze lingers on Jet for a moment before he focuses on me. “Lynx.” He gives me a nod in greeting.
“Tanner.” I gesture to the cars. “To what do we owe the pleasure?”
Before he has chance to answer, the rest of the car’s inhabitants pile out and my heart stops. Tanner Grey runs with the Silver Blades. But the guy who just climbed out of the passenger seat is not their leader. I’ve never seen him before, at least I don’t think so because he’s got a baseball cap pulled low over his eyes, obscuring half his face. I don’t recognise his scent, though, and that’s about as good an indicator as I need. There’s something about him I take an instant dislike to, my wolf a restless presence under my skin.
Hunters in general are a pain in the arse, but for the most part, they stick to the rules they helped put in place. There are always exceptions, though. Those who’d like nothing better than to wipe us all off the face of the earth. I think whoever this cunt is, he falls into that last category.
Cal tenses beside me, and I know he shares my feelings.
Apart from him, there’s a couple more I don’t recognise. The rest are all Silver Blades, including their leader, Keiran Beck. He’s a bit of a dick, but we’ve never had a problem with him before now. I don’t like the way he seems to defer to whoever these new fuckers are, though.
Beck, Grey and the rest of the Silver Blades hang back, letting the three strangers take the lead.
“It’s a routine visit,” the guy at the front says. His tone has a mocking edge to it. He’s tall, maybe six two, six three, with short black hair and brown eyes. He’s built too. Likes to show it off, judging by the too tight T-shirt he’s wearing.
I raise an eyebrow. “And you are?”
“Evan Fox.”
“And them?” I nod at the two men stood either side of him like bodyguards.
He shrugs, like it’s no big deal. “No concern of yours.”
