Secret of the Wolf(14)

Dante entered the club and paused, looking around. His gaze landed on her, and even from here she could see heat flare in his eyes.

"Well, speak of the devil," she heard Finn mutter.

She looked at him, torn between good manners and going over to Dante to see what she could stir up.

"Go," Finn said. "You don't owe me anything. It's not like we're on a date."

"I'll see you later," she murmured and picked up her clutch. "Thanks for the drink." Grabbing her glass, she slid off the barstool and headed toward Dante.





Finn watched her go, appreciating the feminine sway of her hips. Tori was a strong woman, yet feminine and sexy. She was just his type. He still hadn't been able to figure out why things never clicked between them, but they hadn't. It wasn't for lack of trying on his part. He had a reputation to maintain, after all.

He swiveled around and pushed his empty glass toward the bartender. "Give me another." As the vamp poured more scotch, Finn rested his folded arms on the counter and stared at his reflection in the mirrored shelves behind the bartender. He scrubbed his hand across his jaw, realizing he needed a shave, a haircut, and some sleep.

But sleep only brought Conl scrdreams, dreams that he could make no sense of. He grabbed the glass the bartender placed in front of him and downed his drink in one throat-burning gulp. "Another," he demanded.

From a couple of stools down he heard a husky feminine voice murmur, "I'll have a Glenlivet, straight. Make it a double." The rolling hills of Ireland tinted her honeyed tone.

Finn turned to see a slender woman in a black barely there dress. Her auburn hair fell in thick curls to the small of her back. Hell, there was more hair than there was dress.

Which sent his thoughts off in a whole other direction.

"See somethin' interestin', boyo?" Her sultry voice broke through the fantasies playing through his mind.

He looked into her blue eyes and felt like the world fell away all around him. The only stable thing was the barstool beneath him. What the hell? He cleared his throat and did his best not to show just how poleaxed he felt. "I see a lot of something that interests me," he drawled, making sure to put a bit of a flirtatious smirk on his lips. Picking up his glass, he moved down to the stool next to her. "I'm Finn." He held out his hand.

She put her soft fingers in his. "Keira." Her grip was firm yet tender. She smelled light and sweet, like a spring day. She was one of the fey. Elf, most likely. Or maybe a sprite. Didn't really matter. She was lovely.

"Keira." It suited her. Strong, yet feminine, like the hand he still held. He brought it to his lips and pressed a kiss on her knuckles.

"Well, now, aren't you the fine gentleman. For a demon." She withdrew her hand and picked up her glass.

"You have something against demons?" he asked, lifting the scotch to his lips. It wouldn't surprise him. The fey were the snootiest of all preternaturals, most of them looking down on all other prets as if they were subpar.

"Not generally, no. I like to get to know someone before I make a judgment." She took a dainty sip of her drink. "So, Finn. What do you do?"

"Oh, a bit of this and a bit of that," he hedged. Part of his … charm was the aura of mystery surrounding him. He nurtured that, encouraged people to think there was more of a dangerous edge to him than there might necessarily be. Not that he wasn't plenty dangerous, though right now he needed people to be acutely aware of that if he were to succeed in his current … endeavor.

"Oh, a mystery man," Keira murmured. "I like that."

"I haven't seen you around here before," he said, leaning one elbow on the bar, angling his upper body toward her.

She shook her head and took another sip of her twelve-year-old scotch. "No, this is my first time." She glanced around the club. "I'm new to the city," she said, her gaze focused on the dance floor.

"I'd be happy to show you around."

She looked at him, one eyebrow quirked. "I bet you would." A slow burn entered her eyes. "What's a girl got to do around here to get a man to dance with her?"

He grinned and held out his hand. "Your wish is my command, m'lady."

Her answering smile was full of mischief and flirt. "I thought you'd never ask." As they walked to the dance floor, Finn noticed how light on her feet she was and how delicate she seemed next to him, though she stood just shy of six feet tall. That still put her six inches shorter than him, even if her high heels had put them almost eye to eye. She was the perfect height for dancing, both the vertical and horizontal kind.

The song they danced to was fast, upbeat, and he found himself wishing for a slow dance. He knew all about the ugly side of life, had been through all sorts of things that could make an hour feel like a year, h Cike a sload done things he could never be cleansed of. She was beauty to his ugliness, soft to his hard, light to his dark. If he put his big, rough hands on her he might break her, yet here he was, wanting to do just that.





As Tori made her way through the crowd toward Dante, a familiar scent wafted her way, one she hadn't smelled in centuries. She stopped and searched the club before she saw him.

Her cousin Stefan was standing in the back, near the door to the special rooms that vampires used to dine in private. She held up a finger, signaling to Dante that she'd be right there, and walked toward her cousin, placing her drink on the tray of a passing waiter. As she reached him, Stefan leaned his shoulder against the wall, his face in deep shadow. His host body was shorter in stature than the one he had in the other dimension. He was swarthy skinned, dark haired, and dark eyed.

"Stefan!" She leaned over and kissed his cheek, then gave him a quick hug. Underneath that thinness was wiry strength. Stepping back, she asked, "When did you get here?"

"Here at the club? I've been in the back getting a bite to eat," he said.

She rolled her eyes at what she could tell was his deliberate obtuseness. "No, here in Scottsdale."

His quick smile lightened his features. "I've been looking for you and your brother. I found out what names you were going by a few years ago and just recently heard you were in Arizona. So … here I am." He sobered. "It's been lonely, living all these years without family. I'm so glad I found you." He reached up and cupped her cheek.

She wanted to believe him, she did. But Stefan was the king of con. "Family didn't matter so much to you before," she said, her voice hard. "Rand and I wouldn't even be here on Earth if it weren't for you." The memory of being arrested and summarily tried for crimes they'd had nothing to do with was as fresh as if it had happened five minutes ago. Some things were impossible to forget and maybe forgive, but she had tried. "They took us from everything we knew, everyone we loved, and sent us through the rift. Because of you." She still hadn't gotten over the shame of it. As much as she loved him, she'd told no one on Earth of her relationship to him.

"I know, and I'm sorry." Stefan dropped his hand to his side. "Though, on the flip side, you and your brother have had almost a hundred and fifty years to get acclimated here." He smiled. "It's not so bad, is it?"

"Yes, well, being a werewolf isn't always all it's cracked up to be." Tori kept her voice low as she glanced around to make sure no one was eavesdropping. "You murdered someone, Stefan. A very important someone."

His lips thinned. "I was … misguided. Perhaps even a little out of control, but-"

"A little?" She leaned in closer. "You call what you did a ‘little' out of control?"

"But I have a second chance, Tori. A real chance to live my life right. I've been doing charitable works, feeding the poor … I know it doesn't return the life I took, but it has to count for something, right?" He took her hands in his. "I need your help. Your understanding."

God, she wanted to believe he was sincere. She needed to believe he was sincere. Stefan hadn't always been so driven. So inflexible. "You realize there are prets out here who plan to kill you? And they mean to carry it out."

Stefan squeezed her fingers. "Look, let me worry about that, all right? When the time is right, I'll turn myself in to the council, but I can't do it just yet. I have … things to do first."

Her investigative senses flared to life. "What kind of things?"

"Things." His eyes hardened though his face didn't lose its pleasant almost placating expression. "I'm not going to do anything to mess up the life you have here, I swear." He touched a knuckle to the tip of her chin. "You have nothing to fear from me."

For the moment she would accept him at his word. And for the time being she'd go against her training, against her duty and keep his presence in town a secret from the council until he was ready to turn himself in. He was family. She owed him that much. However, she'd do her best to keep tabs on him, starting this minute. "Come over to the house tomorrow," she invited. "Or let's go right now. I know Rand will be thrilled to see you again."

Stefan opened his mouth but then his attention was caught by something behind her. "I'd love to, but not tonight. I'll stop in soon." He turned toward the door to the private rooms.