Havermouth, Three Weeks Before Cameron had just parked his Ute on the main street of town when his phone began to ring. Heath. He answered absently as he got out of the cab. “I’m just going for a run,” he told his mate without greeting. “I’ll grab something for dinner when I’m done. I know we need milk.” “I didn’t call about groceries,” Heath replied, and his tone of voice froze Cameron midway through closing the car door, his heart leaping within his chest. He knew, without a shadow of a doubt, what that tone of voice meant. “She’s back,” Cameron breathed into the phone. “Yes.”“What is she… what is she like?” Cameron asked leaning back against the car, his strength seeming to seep through his body and out the soles of his feet like water. Was she sorry, he meant. Was she sorry for leaving them, was she ready…? “Have you got her there?” He started to open the door, intending to go to them. “No,” Heath hesitated. “She’s… It’s hard to know, Cam. I don’t know.” “What do you mean, y

Havermouth Present TimeAislen’s voice caught Heath’s attention and he turned to look across the room, to the open door of the office that had become Rhett’s cage. Heath’s mates were in the process of transforming the office into a bedroom for the five of them but had broken off their activity whilst Aislen argued with Rhett.“She wants to come,” Leighton observed looking up from the map of Havermouth that he had spread over a table in his workspace.“She does,” Heath agreed. Rhett was shaking his head, obviously agreeing with Cameron and Heath that it was simply too dangerous. “She’s always been f-king stubborn,” he added with a sigh. “Trouble from the moment we met her.”Leighton raised his eyebrows but looked down at the map without commenting on the argument. “Here would be the best route for us,” he traced it on the map.“I am assuming that you can move with stealth when needed,” Heath slid a look at the other man. He was fascinated by the confliction in his mind, the layering of

The Human Enemy’s Land, Eleven Hundred Years Before“Her name is Lady Beupraxia,” Gera sat at Thaelen’s side, shoulder to shoulder, sharing body heat between them and watching the rats scurry across the floor. He flicked his foot when a rat drew too close.“Don’t scare it off,” Thaelen recommended. They both stilled as they heard the familiar footfalls of the guards, the creak of their armour and the rattle of their keys distinct within the dungeon noises. They waited to see where the guards would go, and heard a scuffle and yelling as they dragged a prisoner out of his cell. For a prisoner to fight to remain in the cell meant that the destination was worse, Thaelen thought grimly.“It will bite us whilst we sleep, and it’s crawling with disease,” Gera protested as the sounds retreated, his attention still on the curious rat.“It is food, and its blood is liquid which you can drink.”” Thaelen replied watching as the rat paused to wash it’s face before following the wall to slip out of

Havermouth, Three Weeks BeforeA loader stood over a pile of logs and the grass between it and a void where once a truck might have been buzzed with insect activity. Blood had been spilt, still discoloring the grass a week after the event and the scent strong – at least to a vampire. Talen looked from the loader, the tumble of logs, and the blood, his mind drawing a mental picture to match that on the report.“Where is the truck now?” He asked Anthony.The other vampire squinted against the sun and took his sunglasses out of his breast pocket, sliding them on. “The police saw no reason to prevent the shipment. It was a tragic accident, not a crime.”“Who was operating the machine?” Talen asked.“Victor Benton,” Anthony said. “He was interviewed extensively. It was late in the day and both the driver, Chip Taper, and Victor were keen to get the job done and move on. Patrick Carter was site supervisor. According to Victor, Patrick wasn’t where he was supposed to be. For a reason known o

Havermouth, Three Weeks BeforeTalen swept his mate up and over his shoulder, placing a hand over the back of her thighs in order to hold her safely in place, grinning as she shrieked with laughter, the joy of finally finding his mate effervescent within him. How quickly his day had turned around from grim depression to this new hopefulness, he thought, and all due to the arrival of the delightful armload of soft curves and wickedness by the name of Morgana Ivy.As he passed down the street, a blonde werewolf rose from a sidewalk restaurant table, his expression outraged as he locked his gaze on Talen and his mate. Interesting, Talen thought, but did not pause his stride. There was obviously a connection between Morgana and the werewolf for him to react that way – considering that Morgana had given the impression that she did not belong in Havermouth and was just there for a week or two, he wondered at that connection and whether it would become an issue. He had long operated peaceful