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ChapterEleven
THORNE
“All right gentlemen, I believe that concludes our business for the evening,” I announced, eager to be done with this conversation and return to Sunday. If I hadn’t promised my father I’d meet with his men tonight, I would have told them to kindly go fuck themselves when they’d dared to interrupt my fervent seduction of the luscious Sunday Fallon.
As it was, my skin crawled at the thought of leaving her out there alone. Unprotected while so many other men circled like vultures. I’d seen the way they looked at her, lusted after her. And while I’d be a hypocrite if I blamed them for it, I’d sure as hell drain them dry if they so much as laid a finger on her.
“And what should we tell your father about the pretty little bird?” The thick cockney accent of his was rough and menacing. A remnant of his human life on the streets of London long ago.
Everything in me stilled. The only part of my body that moved were my eyes as they slid to Alrik’s smirking face. “You will not tell him a bloody thing because there is nothing to tell.”
Alrik’s smile faded, and he exchanged a nervous look with Peter.Smart man.
“Guess I was mistaken.”
“It would seem so. Now if that’s all—”
My words broke off at the sound of a commotion outside. While not unheard of atIniquity—because any time the Families were thrown together like this, you were asking for trouble—they were rare. Lilith Duval, the dominatrix succubus who owned the club, ensured it. And as a woman who not only encouraged her patrons to indulge in their favorite sins but provided them with the means to do it, no one wanted to risk ending up on her blacklist.
“What was that?” I asked, on high alert.
“Sounds like a fight,” Peter answered with a shrug. “Not our problem.”
Usually, I’d be inclined to agree. But this was no ordinary nightclub, and when tempers flared, people had a habit of dying, so my first thought was for Sunday. I didn’t want her to accidentally get caught up in the scuffle.
Without another word, I pushed open the door. The sound of the music was overshot by a few panicked shouts.
I had no trouble catching snippets of the ongoing conversations, and with each one, my anxiety grew.
“... that wolf has lost his damn mind... two fights in one night...”
“Did you see how fast he moved?”
“... the girl didn’t stand a chance...”
That’s when I caught the scent of blood in the air. Her blood. My fangs snapped down, and my mouth watered with the urge to feed.
Behind me, Alrik and Peter surged forward, their hunger infusing them with strength as they tried to shove past me and toward the source of the blood. My muscles tensed as I fought against my own need, and I shoved them back.
“Stand down.”
Alrik licked his fangs as he pushed to his feet. “If she’s no one to you, what’s it matter if I have myself a little taste?” He rearranged himself as he made his way to the door—and me—a second time.
He started running then, thinking to slip past me, but I was far faster. By the time he’d taken two steps, I’d already gripped his head in my hands, breaking his neck with a satisfying crack. As he slid to the ground, I growled, “I said. Stand. Down.”
Peter’s eyes grew wild as I stalked toward him. “No... wait, I—”
“Shh...”I said, my fingers gripping the sides of his face. “You’ll only be dead for a little while. It’s nothing personal.” And then I snapped his as well.
No one would be feeding on my little wolf tonight. And though my fangs ached with need, I swore to myself that included me.
Threat handled for now, I raced down the hallway and back into the main room where the crowd had shifted to stand around a trio of bodies. One was dead, so I dismissed him, my eyes zeroing in on the Novasgardian who’d taken Sunday in his arms and was gently lowering her to the ground.
“What the bloody hell happened?” I snarled, shoving him out of the way so I could cradle her trembling form.
“A hunter, I think,” he said, barely sparing me a glance as he moved to press his hands into the wound at her side.
“Hunters? What do they want with her?”
