There were lots of empty apartments. Marley could’ve stayed there indefinitely, but it wouldn’t be the right thing for her, staying involved with the Dires. She was already privy to info she shouldn’t have, and Jinx’s contacts would keep her busy—and safe.
“Do you guys specialize in wolves or something?” Marley asked.
“You could say that.”
She looked at him strangely, and opened her mouth to say something but wisely decided not to.
“All wolves aren’t scary, if they’re treated right. Same with ghosts. Same with people,” Jinx said finally. “You have my number. Give me a call if you need help with a ghost. Although I think you’ll handle them just fine.”
Marley smiled. “Me too.” And then she surprised him with a quick, fierce hug. “Be careful, Jinx. Please.”
“Will do.”
“You too, Rifter,” she said, before she got into the truck, with Cain shutting the door and getting into the driver’s seat.
“Well, that made it worth it. I guess some humans aren’t all bad after all,” Jinx said as they drove off.
“I think she’ll keep her word,” Rifter added.
“Imagine if she knew what we really were?” Jinx asked.
“I’m not all that sure she doesn’t,” Rifter said.
“We dodged a bullet. If the tape had gone viral, this would’ve been huge.”
“Yeah, maybe.” Rifter stared up at the moon. She would turn fat in the next days, her pull sending tingles throughout the supernatural community.
After a few minutes, Vice and Stray showed on their bikes, the sounds as unmistakable as a wolf’s howl.
“Next year, we’re definitely not going out on Valentine’s Day,” Vice announced. “Well, unless Rifter says so.”
“Thanks, Vice.”
These men allowed him to lead. Rifter had always been clear that, for them, it was a seemingly easily made choice and not blind alpha devotion. It was a respect he was most grateful for and one he’d never taken for granted.
As a Dire not born with the ability to dreamwalk, but rather cursed with it by a shaman at birth, he’d always felt like an outsider. Lived the warrior code as a young pre-shifted Dire but had never been entirely comfortably as his pack grew increasingly aggressive to humans—and that had been the Dire’s downfall.
“The pride’s headed out west,” Vice told Rifter. “Too many bad things happening.”
Rifter growled low. The pride didn’t often get involved in Were business, but they were often a good source of unexpected backup.
“They’re worried about the weretrappers,” Vice continued. “They’re getting stronger.”
“And so are we.” Rifter would grow their army. He had no choice.
Chapter Sixteen
Still on his bike, Vice walked himself over until he was next to Jinx.
“Dude, you reek of human.” He sniffed again. “Not as bad as some I’ve smelled.”
Jinx smiled. “She was okay.”
“Jesus Christ, you’re not planning on––”
“No,” Jinx said abruptly. “I like wolves. But Marley’s cool.”
“Think we’ll run into her again?” Rifter asked.
“I have no doubt,” Jinx said as he watched her car glide down the street out of sight. “I’ve got one more thing to do. I’ll meet you home.”
Rifter and the others didn’t argue although it looked like they all wanted to. But they roared down the street behind Marley’s car, leaving Jinx on his own in front of the now dark house with the police tape all around the porch.
“I thought you weren’t going to show,” he called finally, turning to see Anna coming through the side gate toward him.
“Are you kidding? I’m holding you to your promise.” She got to the bike and motioned back toward the house. “Great job. Although now I’m never getting paid.”
“I’ll make it up to you.”
“Cocky.”
“Get on.”
She did, sans helmet, holding him tightly as he wove through the dark streets toward his destination.
The cemetery was predictably deserted. He had to break a lock to get inside, leaving his bike behind and strolling with Anna.
“If this is where you bring girls, I can understand why you’re single,” she told him, hesitating only slightly before following him.
Jinx gave a sharp laugh that echoed in the darkness. “I’ll work on my dating skills if you do me a favor.”
“What’s that?”
“Deal with your shit.” He pointed to a gravesite she was studiously avoiding.
“I want to go back to the house now.”
“I know why you’re refusing to leave, but you have to. You can’t hang around forever. You did what you needed to.”
“Please.”
“Look,” he commanded and she did.
The gravestone read Anna Pearson and gave dates that made her twenty-one when she died six months earlier.
For several long moments, Anna just hugged herself, rocking back and forth on her heels.
“You never worked for Bill. You’re also not the first ghost who lied to me. So what really happened?” he asked.
She turned back to him finally, her eyes sad. “I was lonely. Drank too much. It was accidental—I passed out and the alcohol poisoning killed me before my roommate found me. So stupid.” She paused. “Marley . . . she was nice. Really nice. She was the first one who actually saw me, even though I scared the hell out of her. And when Bill came in, well, I didn’t trust him at all.”
It was like he always told Vice—ghosts only told the truth if it suited them. If they knew the truth could get under your skin, they’d use it. And Anna had found a way to get under Bill’s skin, while helping Marley.
It was the least Jinx could do to help her. “You’ve got to go now, Anna. You did what you had to. But I can’t let you get stuck here.”
“I’m scared.”
“So am I. All the damned time. But in about five seconds, your fear will be over.”
She turned to him one final time. “You don’t know that for sure.”
“No, but I sure as hell hope it’s true.”
With his words, she held out her hand to touch his, starting as her hand went right through his, the icy feeling chilling Jinx to his bones. “Thank you,” she said quietly and then she began to walk.
Concentrate, he told her as much as he told himself without saying the word out loud, and he waited as the familiar light floated over her. He was never sure if he brought the light or if the ghost called to it, but either way, it somehow collected Anna.
One minute she was there, the next, he no longer saw or felt her presence.
There was, however, an unmistakable one about two feet behind him. He turned and found Vice leaning against a gravestone, watching him.
“You’re my protection?”
“That’s a scary thought.” They both laughed and sobered quickly when Vice continued. “Rogue would be here. He said you shouldn’t do this shit alone.”
“He’ll come out of it,” Jinx said finally, wondering which one of them he was trying to convince more.
“I know,” Vice said. “Hey, that werechick you hooked up with at Clyde’s is asking around about you. I think she’s one of those modern women who wants to ask you out on a date.”
Jinx punched him in the shoulder., “Thanks for the update. And if you give her my number I’ll . . .”
“Already did. No need to thank me. If you don’t use your dick more often, it’s gonna shrivel up and fall off.”
Vice ran out of the cemetery, Jinx at his heels, their howls rising through the air.
Rifter heard them over the roar of his bike, would recognize his Di
re brothers’ howls anywhere. At one time, he might’ve reprimanded them, but for what? For being so free, for being themselves?
Not anymore.
Before he drove home, he circled Bite one last time, like there was something he still couldn’t quite put his finger on. As the snow fell heavily around him, he threw back his head and let Brother Wolf howl through him, a sound he knew would echo through the woods around him, could be heard for miles by humans. Would reverberate through the weretrappers’ souls, if they even had them.
Fuck it. He was here to stay.
One more long howl, this more joyous than mournful, and he pushed the Harley toward the Dire house.
* * *
Read on for an excerpt from
DIRE NEEDS
A brand-new book in Stephanie Tyler’s
Eternal Wolf Clan series, coming from
Signet Eclipse in March 2012.
* * *
Chapter One
Rifter needed a woman, Brother Wolf needed to run wild, and their appetites for sex and destruction mingled, rising with a hot howl as Rifter’s Harley roared through the winter night.
Both knew which appetite would have to be sated first—the fucking, then the running. Rifter and his wolf were usually on the same page in that regard. Tonight was no different, and he slammed his Harley to a stop in front of Bite, one of the many bars along the strip, because he smelled danger. He stomped inside, ignoring the way the room stilled and everyone turned to watch him. After hundreds of years, that shit got old, and he was well aware of what he looked like.
He was also well aware that no one in this room would want to be him, if given the chance. He could only pray no one ever would be put in that position again.
No, he was already part of a pack of the last six living Dire wolves, who cursed their immortality and wore their ferocity on their sleeves because they literally had nothing to lose.
Created by Hati, son of a Norse god, and watched over by a mystical clan of Elders, Rifter was six feet eight inches of raw muscle and more than seven feet, three hundred pounds when he was Brother Wolf, which explained the pain of the transition.
Brother Wolf was part of him—when he was driving the ship, Rifter could request things, and vice versa, but they were both equal in power. It was the only way they could inhabit one body. He had a great deal of respect for his wolf, knew what Brother needed and when he needed it. Brother did the same for him.
If one of them died, the other would too.
We should be that lucky, he thought, and Brother howled in response inside his head, reminding him of why they’d come here in the first place.
Brother Wolf’s biggest goal—beyond chasing moons—was to become Father Wolf. That could happen only by mating, and that shit was not happening anytime soon.
Rifter’s main goal was to die, but again, he’d be waiting on that one forever.
One of the female Weres, laced into a black bustier, caught up to him when he was halfway to the bar and rubbed her body against his. “Where’ve you been, Rift?” she purred.
“Prison,” he said as he pushed past her, semidisgusted that his response seemed to turn her on. Prison couldn’t hold Rifter and Brother Wolf, and God knew humans had tried more than once over the last centuries.
He took in the human motorcycle gang and the pack of wolves who’d started their own version of Hells Angels, only far more deadly, and then his nose led him to the young woman sitting alone at the bar. She was doing shots and swaying to the music, and she’d caught the bikers’ attention—human and wolf—neither of which was a good thing.
He knew immediately from the rumblings that she’d been here too long.
Typically, the wolves stayed among their own, but lately, they’d been mixing it up with the locals, and that wasn’t going over all that well with the weretrappers. This bar was owned and operated by a Were—but catered to humans as well. The thing was, most humans beyond the weretrappers didn’t believe that Weres existed at all, and the Weres and the Dires had been able to pass as full human for as long as they could remember.
He could deal with a fight to get his blood going. But first things first. He moved next to her, watched her turn to him, look up at him. Her eyes widened—appreciation rather than fear, and yeah, what the hell?
“You’re not in a good place,” he growled over the music.
“I’ve got a seat at the bar—that’s the best place,” she told him, not slurring her words yet, but by the way she was motioning to the bartender, she’d find herself doing so soon enough.
She was human, and he was drawn to her.
Making sure she’s safe.
Right, because he was a goddamned Boy Scout. He didn’t give a shit about humans—those who knew about the existence of Weres were either terrified, or idiot groupies, or hunting his kind. The wider the berth, the safer for all involved. But there was something that yanked him to her, a zing right to his cock that had him by her side, watching her lick the salt from her hand, down the tequila and suck on the lemon while staring at him with green eyes that were far from innocent.
“I’m Gwen,” she said, her voice all hot and smoky sounding even though there wasn’t a cigarette in sight. She leaned back and stared at him again and let a smile tug one corner of her lips.
“Rifter.”
He knew she wanted to comment on the name, but she didn’t. Instead, she reached out and played with a zipper on his black leather jacket, then let a long finger roam over the soft, smooth fabric. He could picture the black against her creamy skin.
“I want to wear this,” she murmured.
“Later. Naked,” he told her and she stared at him, her neck graceful, her body more so, and she looked like some kind of aristocrat, like she should be in a ballroom instead of here.
But she was here. There would be no female Weres for him tonight, even though more were already circling. He picked up on the low growls, because Dires never went for humans. Everyone was confused, and he was president of the club.
He expected this to be all over fucking Facebook within the hour. “I want to take you home,” he emphasized, in case the naked part hadn’t been enough of a clue.
Have to. Need to. Fuck, he felt like dropping to his knees and howling and it had nothing to do with the full moon.
She tilted her head and continued to study him.
“I’m not into anything beyond sex.” Blunt for sure, but he had to make that clear.
A small smile played on her lips. “Don’t worry—I won’t be around long enough to stalk your tall ass.”
“You’re moving?”
“Dying.” Rifter froze and she shrugged. “You’re not going to let a little thing like that stop you from coming home with me, right?”
“You’re joking.”
“No, I don’t joke about death. Well, that’s not true—I’m a doctor—we have to. Gallows humor keeps us from getting too emotional.”
“You’re dying and so you’ve decided to pick up strange men in dangerous bars.”
“It’s like one of those bad game-show questions—if you found out you only had a short time left to live, what would you do?” She laughed but there was little humor behind it. “I have no idea what I want to do, besides not die.”
She looked healthy to him—healthy and beautiful, with long blond hair, wearing leather, and she did fit in here, in a weird way. And Christ, he could think of nothing more he wanted to do than die. I-fucking-ronic, as Vice would say. “How long do you have?”
“At least through the night. And it’s not catching,” she added as an afterthought. “Are you worth it?”
He didn’t know how the hell to answer that. So he did so truthfully. “Hell yes.”
“Then let’s go.”
Rifter checked to see if V
ice was hanging around, because women sometimes acted this way with his packmate, who was a walking ball of sin. But no, Vice was nowhere in sight and everyone was antsy.
Goddamned full fucking moon. Like a bitch with a whip.
He didn’t bother to fight the urge to pick her up, and he slung her over his shoulder, caveman-style, grabbing her jacket off the back of her chair. He heard her startled, soft gasp, but she didn’t protest as he walked out with her, daring any of the wolves to follow him.
They all knew what he was—they may not like him, but they sure as hell knew to respect his power.
When he got to his bike, he set her down and handed her the coat. Her hair tumbled over her shoulders, her black tank top had ridden up a little along her belly and her cheeks flushed from the cold. “Thanks for the ride.”
“That was nothing.”
She refused the helmet he offered, instead wrapping her arms around as much of his waist as she could, and off they went. Normally, he didn’t give a shit about the icy roads, but his passenger wasn’t as indestructible as he was. Though he gave the bike lots of gas, he didn’t get stupid on icy corners and snowy shoulders. After a while, she was no longer holding on and had put her hands in the air, yelling into the wind. He went faster because it seemed to excite her.
When he stopped in front of her house, a pretty little Victorian in the middle of nowhere, she hopped off and he followed her as she walked up the path. Before she could get to the door, he took her arm and pulled her close and brought his mouth down on hers before he could stop himself. She tasted like sugar and cranberries—tart and sweet—and he wanted more. Wanted it all, and Brother Wolf seemed to agree, as he was ignoring the running in favor of letting Rifter take his time.
When he pulled back, her lips were swollen and she was breathing hard and he was glad about that. “Every guy in that bar wanted to take you home tonight. Why me?”
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