“She’s fine. She just thought you’d want to know…everyone’s gathering at The Anchor. Volkhov, Severney, Juneau. Some of the witches.” He hesitated. “Your mate and the girl are there, too.”
Arthur’s pulse thudded once, hard.
Dani.
Aurelia.
In town. In a bar full of wolves and witches and Severney strangers. Without him.
A growl rumbled low in his chest before he could stop it.
Chase made a soft sound that might have been a laugh. “Well,” he said. “That didn’t take long.”
Arthur ignored him. “Who’s on watch?”
“Volkhov at the door, Nordan at the back. Layla and Dominic are both inside. Rory and Kiara, too.”
His mate. His daughter. In there.
Arthur’s wolf didn’t like it. Arthur didn’t like that the wolf wasn’t entirely wrong.
He clapped Matthew’s shoulder. “That’s enough for tonight. Rotate guard as planned. Chase—”
“Already on it,” Chase said. “I’ll tighten the patrols around The Anchor. Try not to start a fight in Dom’s bar, yeah?”
Arthur grunted something that might have been assent and headed for the gate.
He told himself he was going to make sure things stayed civil. Witches under his protection were in a crowded public place. This was about safety.
The fact that his mate hadn’t seen fit to tell him she was going out had nothing to do with it.
Nothing at all.
***
The Anchor was already in full swing when he reached it.
Lanterns spilled warm light onto the street. The smell hit him as he stepped inside—beer, frying, woodsmoke, the denselayering of wolf-scent. Under it, a thinner tang, witchcraft. The iron scent of vampires.
Volkhov and Nordan wolves crowded the tables. Severney wolves sat together near the back, laughing. Layla perched at the bar, one hand around a mug, the other on her belly. Dominic leaned behind her, listening to Rory with that thin, amused patience.
For a moment, Arthur saw his town like a stranger might. Cramped warmth, mismatched furniture, wolf hierarchy in every inch of space.
And somewhere in all this, the female who had once been his entire world.
His wolf surged, scenting the air.Dani, Dani—
He didn’t smell her. He smelled something else.
Apple shampoo and young fear held bravely in check.
“Excuse me,” a voice said, somewhere near his knees. “Are you Arthur?”
He looked down.
Aurelia stood there, chin up, hands jammed in the pockets of her borrowed coat. Up close, the resemblance hit harder. Dani’s mouth, Dani’s nose, but the eyes, bright and steady, were pure Nordan blue.
His blue.
