~ CAIN ~ I recognize the look in her eyes—because I’ve seen it in mine. She wants blood. More specifically, she wants West’s blood. And she’ll do anything to get it—even if that means going head-to-head with a werewolf three times her size. A pang of guilt shoots through me for what I’m about to do, but there’s only one way to keep her from ripping West apart, no matter how much I’d enjoy the show. I drop my gaze, shift to the side, and murmur, “Then by all means, take him.” Her eyes flicker, that dark blue flashing bright for a second before settling back to calm. Her full lips part slightly, and she narrows her eyes in confusion. “I hold no grudge against your kind,” she says, as if clarifying. I almost smile at the sudden note of uncertainty in her voice. But I don’t. Instead, I shuffle my feet and gesture for her to pass. “Gl
~ CAIN ~ At noticing my change, West stops sneering and tries to back away—but he isn’t fast enough. My fist connects with his nose, the bones beneath my knuckles cracking with a sharp, satisfying crunch. His pitiful cry is muffled by the hand he slaps over his injury, blood trickling through his fingers. “You’re right. We’re an obstacle your master doesn’t need. But don’t threaten me or my pack. You might get what you want, but you won’t leave happy.” I turn, eyes shifting just in time to catch a vampire edging closer to his opponent. The female sees the opening and takes it—shoving into his body with her smaller frame. Her fingers grip his jaw and force his head back. The dagger in her hand slices through tissue and muscle like butter, nearly taking his head clean off. She releases him and turns, already back in motion. The two remaining vampires dive for the guns hidden under t
~ CAIN ~ I squeeze out of the booth just like West did, grunting as my knees slam into the edge of the table. It’s a blessing and a curse being built like this. One look is usually enough to make most creatures back down. But fitting into smaller-sized furniture? That’s the real war. I finally manage to untangle myself, tossing a few bills onto the table, and trail after West and his group as they make for the door of The Grit. The overhead light flickers as I pass beneath it—buzzing softly, like even it senses the tension bleeding into the air. As I approach the corner booth, I glance sideways. She’s gone. I take a long, steadying breath. I’m not supposed to be distracted by random women—because yes, this scent might just be one similar to Catherine's and not really hers.
~ CAIN ~ "I won’t kill a female for your Master." The words fall flat between us. I don’t flinch. Don’t blink. I just watch West across the table as his face twists like I slapped him. "Then don’t," he sneers, the corner of his mouth curling like he’s chewing on something sour. "Leave her breathing if you must. We only need her to understand the position she places herself in by killing off our kind. We’ll appreciate a hard lesson learned just as much as a loss of life or limb." His casual cruelty is suffocating, but I keep my expression blank. A female killing off leeches can’t be that bad, I think to myself. Still, something itches at the back of my neck. “She’s killing vampires?” I ask, unable to hide the flicker of interest in my tone. The idea alone is enough to stir somethin
~ CAIN ~ I’m already halfway out of my chair when Draven’s hand clasps my wrist. "Where the hell do you think you're going?" he asks. I glance down at him, frowning. "I have something I need to check out. The real question is, why are you looking at me like that, and why is your palm wrapped around my wrist?" Draven releases me and leans back. "I noticed you getting distracted and figured it was time to bring you back to the present." My frown deepens. "As much as I respect you, old man, I don’t appreciate you butting into my actions. My actions are—" “Damn it to hell, Cain,” he growls, glowering at me. “I don’t give a shit about your personal decisions or actions. I only intervened because of your pack. You need to take your head out of whatever just stole your attention and focus, boy. The fate of
~ CAIN ~ I scan the bar with narrowed eyes, tracking every supernatural patron lounging at the booths or hunched over the counters. I’m in The Grit—the only place in Ashridge Hollow where all supernaturals dare to mingle and conduct business without starting a war. It’s in the grittier part of town, the kind of place humans steer clear of. The ones who do show up know better than to act out. Everyone fears Draven, the owner of the joint. One wrong move, and you’re walking out in a body bag—if you’re lucky. They don’t call it The Grit for nothing. I sigh as I look around the bar. The longer I wait, the darker my mood grows. Each second drags a slow itch under my skin, and I almost can't take it anymore. I keep my eyes on the entrance, the single door that separates me from the bastard I’ve been sent here to meet. It's still cl