CHAPTER SIX
Lilith plowed through the swinging doors from the kitchen into the bar just in time to see Gideon Black pivot, neatly swinging Tasha McNeil protectively behind him, and face Owen White’s charge. The music still pumped, but the attention of the customers focused on the two big weres. Black’s mouth curved into a sneer and from the cut of his arms and his stance, he was ready for a fight.
If it came to that.
Of course, weres were always ready to fight, so just because they looked ready to tear each other apart at this moment didn’t always signify.
Black towered over Owen by at least four inches, and Owen was a big man.
Big were, for that matter.
It looked as if Black had gussied himself up for the occasion because he’d shaved since the last time Lilith had seen him and raked a claw through his long, black hair. He still reeked of the wild, the scent of pine and smoke and light sweat rolling off him, so showers seemed optional, but he wore clean, fitted jeans, massive steel-toed boots and a sleek, black leather jacket that looked almost new.
Lilith raced around the bar before skittering to a halt, one hand on the brass ring embedded in the end of the bar and without bothering to grab the Louisville Slugger stored there for such occasions. There was no baseball bat in the world built to take on two weres. In seconds, they’d turn it into toothpicks and use them to clean their fangs after they’d finished ripping to bloody shreds the impertinent female who’d interfered in their business.
The question was: What was the alpha of the Pacific Range pack doing in Lost Legacy territory? The last she’d heard, Lost Legacy’s alpha, Landelarc Sable, was holed up somewhere healing from a broken leg. Lilith shuddered, imagining the level of force required to break an alpha’s femur. Normally, the beasts healed quickly. Whatever had happened to Lan must have been heinous if it was taking weeks to heal.
News that Lan had been laid up had been her signal to make a move, and she’d called Owen to ask for a meet. With Lan out of the way, even temporarily, she had a vastly better chance of making inroads on the pack and putting herself that much closer to her goal of obtaining a seat on the Kinraven Council.
None of her speculations explained what had brought Gideon Black to town since it could not have been to confer with Lan. Unlike the Lost Legacy pack that congregated along this narrow stretch of the coast, the Pacific Range pack roamed like true nomads, spending summers in the south, tracking north every few seasons. Rumor had it they owned houses scattered throughout the Rocky Mountains and Cascade Range where they took shelter periodically after weeks in the wild. For that reason, there was no telling when the Pacific Range weres would show up in any particular spot. That being said, all packs under the rule of the council respected the territorial borders of rival packs.
If Black’s presence was part of some plan, Owen didn’t look happy about it. But Remy had clearly warned her to leave them alone.
That meant Owen was up to something.
The local shifters normally didn’t come into town much and almost never into Chill. At least, they hadn’t as along as Lilith had been in command of the bar. She didn’t put up with their annoying tendency to fight every time someone made a random comment they interpreted as an insult, real or imagined. Or tangled over a female who probably couldn’t handle that much testosterone anyway.
More than a few weres in one location usually resulted in broken furniture, smashed out windows and general chaos. And that was when no one got hurt, and no blood was spilled. When it was only one or two, she could keep an eye on the bastards and pass them off as strays from a biker gang who only looked alarmingly huge, but were actually harmless.
Not.
It was too much trouble to explain what was really going on, even if anyone would believe it, so she didn’t bother, preferring to drive their shifter asses out of the bar. But now she had four weres to deal with plus Remy.
The lyr had managed to find his way back inside even faster than she had. She shook her head, not wanting to think about the way he moved, turning into a dark blur with his inhuman speed. He stood behind Owen now like a faithful lieutenant. That was another relationship she didn’t understand. Sure, the lyr had been posted with Lost Legacy as part of an exchange between races as dictated by the council, but his loyalty seemed like the real deal. No way did she believe it was reciprocated.
Weres took care of their own. Period.
Remy stared at her, and her body responded, remembering the heat of his kiss out in the alley. Her stomach clenched low and hard.
Fuck them all.
She slipped behind the bar, hefted her baseball bat and approached the snarling standoff.