“For all your werewolf strength and speed, a knife through the heart will kill you as quickly as it would any man,” Kos said.
Eric smiled, showing the tips of his fangs. “Maybe. But for you to get that knife in my heart, you’d have to be really close. Makes it tougher to knife a man knowing that if you miss, he’s going to rip out your throat.”
Kostandin stared at Eric for a moment, his eyes betraying zero emotion. He didn’t seem to be any more intimidated by Eric than the werewolf was of him. Considering what Eric had just done, that only confirmed the Albanian was a psychopath.
“I like you,” Kos said with a laugh. He slipped the knife into the sheath behind his back, glancing at a fellow Albanian as he walked away. “Find him a room.”
Jayna let out the breath she’d been holding. Eric had done it. He’d gotten into the pack.
The need to make sure he really was okay after that fight was suddenly overwhelming, but before she could take a step, Liam caught her arm.
“Stay away from the new omega,” he warned, then glanced at Megan and Moe. “All of you. I don’t trust him.”
Jayna opened her mouth to tell him she didn’t need his permission to hang out with Eric or anyone else, but Liam was already heading upstairs to check on Brandon. She turned to Megan and Moe.
“Come on. I’ll introduce you to Eric.”
Megan exchanged looks with Moe, but they both followed her over to where Eric was talking with Frasheri. The Albanian was studying Eric’s fake driver’s license.
“If I find anything in your background I don’t like, you know I’ll kill you, right?” Frasheri said.
Eric seemed unconcerned as he picked up his jacket and slung his pack on his shoulder, but Jayna’s stomach clenched as Frasheri strode out of the lobby. Even though Eric had assured her his fake identity would check out, she couldn’t help being worried anyway. Suddenly remembering Megan and Moe, she introduced them to Eric. Neither of her pack mates were interested in a meet and greet and clearly couldn’t wait to get out of there.
“We’re going to grab something to eat,” Megan said. “You coming, Jayna?”
“In a little while,” she said. “I’m going to show Eric to his room first.”
Moe frowned at that while Megan gave Eric a wary look. “Do you want us to come with you?”
Jayna shook her head. “Go get something to eat.”
“Are you sure?” Megan asked, and Jayna could see that her best friend was on the verge of panicking.
“I’m sure.” She smiled. “I’ll be fine.”
Megan looked like she wanted to argue, but instead she caught Jayna’s hand and pulled her close. “Be careful around him,” she whispered in her ear. “He’s freaky crazy.”
Jayna wanted to assure her pack mates they had nothing to fear from Eric, that he was there to help them out of this mess, but she couldn’t. So she simply nodded and gave Megan’s hand a squeeze, then told her and Moe that she’d see them later.
One of the Albanians tossed her a set of keys and gave her an apartment number a few doors down from the guys on the fourth floor.
Jayna tried to look casual as she led Eric upstairs. His apartment was almost a mirror image of hers and Megan’s.
“Sorry about Megan and Moe,” she said as he closed the door behind them. “They think you’re just another crazy omega who can’t be trusted.”
“I figured that.” His mouth curved. “Don’t worry about it.”
Jayna nodded, then frowned, her gaze going to his torn T-shirt. “Let me take a look at those claw marks.”
She knew from experience that ragged claw marks could hurt like hell and take a long time to heal.
“You don’t have to,” he said, but didn’t stop her as she pulled his shirt up over his head.
After the fight she’d just seen, Jayna expected to see a bloody mess, but the dozen or so ragged scratches took a backseat to the overall view she got of his truly spectacular upper body. It was hard trying not to stare—Eric was seriously buff. Broad shoulders, thick chest and arm muscles, and abs so ripped she had a crazy desire to nip at them with her fangs.
In addition to all those captivating muscles, there were a couple other things about Eric’s body that drew her attention. One was the big wolf head tattoo with the letters SWAT under it that dominated the left side of his chest. Clearly he wouldn’t be taking his shirt off anywhere near the Albanians or the omegas—their loss.
The other thing that stood out were the scars. All werewolves had a scar or two, including her pack mates. But Eric had more than a few. There was a big one with what appeared to be stitch marks on either side of it on the right side of his chest. There were two more just above his belly button, both bearing tiny marks on either side, like he’d been cut into, then stitched up again.