Owen’s wolf preened and growled, and he tightened his grip on the icy mug, enjoying the bite of cold against his skin. On another night, he might have separated one of the women from the herd, culled her like the predator he was, and taken her in an alley or his truck or anywhere he damn well pleased.
That would be impulsive. That was precisely the sort of dick-in-charge, head-up-his-own-ass mistake that had landed him in trouble—the kind of trouble he couldn’t escape.
No matter how strong the urge, letting his wolf free this night would only make things worse.
In no way was his wolf prepared to deal with the potential shitstorm he’d created, and it wasn’t fair to take out his frustrations on a human female.
Not even the ones who licked their red lips and smiled in sensual invitation.
These teachers and accountants and risk-prevention specialists who’d shed their sensible pumps for scraps of leather and silk paired with boots and heels and chains. Like they’d signed up for BDSM summer camp and strapped on the uniform, but were still awaiting their first lesson.
Fuck if he was going to play camp counselor.
“I still think it’s a bad idea,” Remy said. “It’s not too late, we can still leave.”
Owen glanced across the narrow booth. The lyr’s dark, unfathomable gaze met his. Owen was the first to break contact and study the slight webbing between his friend’s fingers. To the casual observer, Remy looked completely human, but he had been born of the vast ocean and was only a visitor on land, as tied to the phases of the moon as any were. The cycle was all they had in common, though.
Remy didn’t have a clue what was at stake.
“So the fuck what?” Owen challenged. “It’s not your decision.”
Remy snorted. “The only reason you’re still in one piece is because I did make a decision. Get over yourself.”
“Think you run things now?”
“No, but your brother…” Remy paused, letting the moment stretch out. “Your alpha put me in charge while he’s out of commission, so unless you want to challenge him, I suggest you shut up and listen for a change. Unless you think the superior reasoning power that landed you in this mess in the first place will be sufficient to save your sorry werewolf ass.”
“Just so you know, I hate every shifting bone in your fucking fish body.” Owen folded his big hands on the scarred surface of the table. “My plan is the only way. I’m not going to let a woman die because I made a mistake.”
“You marked a woman who had no clue—”
“She’s a person. She has a name: Tasha McNeil.”
Remy sighed. “You marked a woman who had no clue what was happening to her.”
“She saw me that day,” Owen interjected, “so don’t tell me she had no idea what was going on. She gave her consent. I marked her. If Lilith hadn’t intervened—”
“But Lilith did make her move,” Remy said. “Smart one, too. Witch is strategic. Got to respect that.”
“The hell I do!” Owen growled and smashed his fist against the table. A woman at a nearby table jerked her head up in alarm.
“Your attitude isn’t helpful.” Remy flashed his trademark smile at the tourist, waiting until she resumed her conversation before turning back to Owen. “You were the careless bastard who allowed a witch to tamper with a woman you’d marked. You were the one not paying attention. Tasha McNeil is in danger because of you, not Lilith Darke.”
“You think you’re so smart, fishboy? I’m not an idiot. I was careful. Lilith said she’d wanted to talk, so when I went to meet her in the ice cream shop, I went sideways first, but Tasha could still see me.”
Going sideways was what weres and the lyrinye called to their ability to shift out of phase with the world and become virtually invisible to average humans.
However, average did not begin to explain Tasha McNeil. While minding her own business eating an ice cream cone, she’d noticed Owen and Lilith when they should have been invisible. That remarkable ability to perceive out-of-phase creatures was what had drawn Owen to her in the first place.
“About four percent of humans have some degree of psychic ability,” Remy said. “Maybe half that number have developed it to the point they can see a were or a lyr or even a rotting seraphim when we’re sideways.” He waved a hand in the direction of the gyrating mass of dancers. “That means there are at least two people out there right now who could detect our presence even if we slid out of phase.”
“If they weren’t too stoned or drunk.”
“The facts remain.”#p#分页标题#e#