Respect enters Brexley’s eyes. “I shifted into my wolf form and killed her.”
I work to keep my chin up and my face blank.Killed her? Fucking killed her?
“Who was she?”
“If I had to guess,” he lowers his voice to a volume only I can hear, “I’d say a hired mercenary.”
Ice fills my veins. “Why would someone hire a mercenary?”
Brexley runs his fingers along the countertop. “You heard her–for a recipe. So what secret recipe are you harboring that has got people ready to kidnap and kill over it?”
I bite my lip. “I don’t have any recipes. I’m a nobody.”
Brexley dips his head to look at me from under an arched eyebrow. “We both know that’s not exactly true.”
I flex and stretch my arms from where I’m braced against the bar, anxiety mounting in me. “I don’t have anything to do with Gigi’s business. Hell, I don’t even know what she’s working on half the time.”
A pang of guilt goes through me at that. It’s not that I don’t support her empire, it’s just that it makes me feel so small and powerless. I know what a disappointment I am, even if Gigi will never say it. In the human world, I’m still a nobody, but my little life feels important.
“You should be protecting Gigi. She’s the one in danger,” I tell him, loudly. My stomach lurches. Nothing has happened yet, as far as I know. But I feel like I'm falling hundreds of feet without any net to catch me. After my mom died in a car crash when I was four, Gigi became my only family. Even if we live very separate lives, I would be devastated if anything happened to her.
“Is she okay? Where is she?” I ask, realizing he would likely know since he works for her. Maybe he has some other means of contacting her. I hit up some of her entourage, but they are just as confused as me. She seems to have all but vanished.
Fae lords, I hope she’s okay. Shehasto be okay.
“Hey, can I order yet or what?” A man next to Brexley asks.
I hold up a finger to the guy, still awaiting my answer.
Brexley doubles down. “I’m to stay close to you.”
“Is she okay?” I ask again, fear turning my insides cold.
“Hey, flirt with scar-face some other time,” the man interrupts again. “I need a drink, babe.”
I shoot him a glare, but Brexley is already straightening and turning toward the guy. Coming to his full height, he has several inches and twice the cut brawn of the dude in a bright purple polo shirt with too much gel in his hair. And sweet fucking fae, the collar of Brexley’s shirt is stretched wide, revealing the symmetrical, tight muscles wrapped around his shoulders and collarbone.
“You owe the lady an apology,” Brexley says evenly.
I’m on the other side of the bar, and even I have the urge to take a step back. Danger laces his words.
A moment of trepidation crosses the man’s face, but he wrinkles his nose and doubles down. “You are the one being rude, buddy. There are a lot of people here trying to get a drink. We waited out in the cold only to come in and find this chick screwing around instead of doing her job.”
Brexley repeats his words slowly. “You owe her an apology.” Then his fangs begin to elongate in his mouth, eyes flashing a bright ice blue.
The guy stumbles back, causing protests behind him that go silent when people see what has him tripping over himself.
My hand slides down my face. What in the witchtits did he not understand about the humans-only bar?
“Oh fuck, is that . . . is that a Were?” Goldie breathes behind me, her hands encircling my arm. “I thought they were all banished way north and live in packs in the freezing cold.”
“They were, and they do,” I say, having zero explanation as to why one followed me home.
“I—I'm sorry,” the guy stutters in my direction.
“Like you mean it,” Brexley says in a low rumble I find both soothing and scary as fuck. He gives the guy a pointed look at his pants.
The guy pulls out his wallet and slaps a twenty-dollar bill on the counter and stutters out another apology before making a hasty retreat. He keeps glancing over his shoulder as if terrified he’ll be followed and torn to pieces.
