Page 49 of Damien’s Mate

“I wouldn’t stake my life on it.”

With one accord, they rose to their feet and went out to the balcony, into the crisp early November morning. Damien grabbed up his pants as he went by, probably not wanting to have to potentially defend himself while wearing only his underwear.

The roar had turned into yelling—something about the internet and bones and dozens and dozens of women.

Lila couldn’t tell whose voice it was—she’d passed out last night before most of the shifters turned human and spoke—but by the way the ceiling was shaking, she’d bet on the bear.

Now, throughout the house, other people were calling out and asking questions. Suddenly, on the balcony above them, they heard the French door bang open, and a man yelling, “Put me down, you hairy motherfucker!”

The heavy footsteps pounded across the upper balcony, there was a grunt, and then the body of one of the McCall twins came plummeting past, wearing only a pair of boxer briefs, waving his arms and cursing.

Stunned, Lila ran to the balcony railing, Damien at her side, watching the man plunge to the ground. Just before he hit, he Changed into a snowy owl, his huge white wings catching the air and lifting him off the ground.

Lila clutched the balcony railing. Damien said, “Shit. Adrenaline overload. I really thought that was going to end badly.”

The owl landed awkwardly on the ground, his talons and tail tangled in his underwear. He screeched in annoyance and tore at it with his beak, while hysterical laughter came from one of the other balconies. It sounded like Colt.

The owl managed to tear off the offending garment and took off, circling around and heading for his own balcony, where Squatch was still growling.

From the other side of the second floor, Lila heard a shotgun pump, and then it discharged. The shell missed the owl by a mile, as she suspected it had been intended to.

She craned her neck to see Brandon, shotgun in hand, yelling from his balcony, “If you don’t shut the fuck up, I’m going to shoot every last one of you.” His balcony door slammed, and there was the sound of glass cracking.

Everything went quiet, and then the heavy footsteps made their way back toward the hall. Smothered giggles came from above.

The owl crapped on Brandon’s balcony with a big splat, and flew out of sight.

Chapter 20

Damien stared at Lila. “What the fuck was that?”

“I have no idea.”

He grabbed his gun and stuck it in the back of his waistband, and then headed through the suite’s living room to the hall door. He cautiously opened it, just in time to see Squatch stomping back down the stairs, holding a cell phone and muttering to himself.

From the floor above still came sounds of muffled laughter.

They walked down the hall to the stairwell. Colt was on the landing above them, leaning on the bannister and laughing his ass off. Callie sat on the stairs, head in her hands, giggling.

Jaeda shot along the third floor hall and confronted Colt and Callie. “What the actual hell?” she demanded.

Colt, trying to catch his breath, choked out, “Polar bear penises.”

Damien was walking up the stairs, Lila still behind him, but he stopped disbelievingly when he heard that. “What?”

Callie had recovered herself—mostly. Between giggles, she said, “Remy’s been trying to get Squatch a girlfriend. First he set him up on a human dating website, and then on a shifter site.”

There were shifter dating sites? Who would have thought?

“He didn’t do that well on either of them,” Callie went on. “I mean, we know he’s a teddy bear on the inside—”

He was? Maybe their definition of ‘teddy bear’ was different from his.

Colt finished, “But he looks like a badly-dressed pro wrestler with serial-killer eyes.”

That was the Squatch he’d met. “So, not a lot of hits?” Damien asked.

“No,” Colt said. “And then Remy found this article—” He started laughing again, and Callie picked up the explanation.