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At around nine o’clock, Jimmy Fiorello walks into the bar. It’s not Ryker, so I just give him a wave as I pour out a Rum and Coke for Jane. A second later, I do a double-take.
His wrinkled face is all scrunched up.
Uh-oh. I don’t know why, but that seems like it’s a bad sign.
“What’s up, Jim?”
“Is Charlie having a cat problem? ‘Cause I’m telling you, Gem, it fucking stinks out there.”
No way in hell does Charlie have a cat problem. Though Aleks’s fang keeps my shifter nature shielded from vampires, other animals know exactly what I am. Ever since I started at the bar, there hasn’t been a sign of any kind of critter. No mice. No rats. They sense me and stay away. Cats, too. Without the mice to hunt, they’re not brave enough to face off against a human-shaped wolf.
But if it’s not a cat—
“Don’t worry about it. Hailey will get you a drink, and I’ll go see what that’s about. Kay, Hailey?”
“A whiskey for Jim, and Gem deals with the cat pee. Sounds good to me.”
I laugh along with Hailey’s comment, though my wolf is already chomping at the bit, desperate to scare off any predator attempting to encroach on my territory.
One step outside and I’m sure that that’s exactly what’s going on here. Because the stink? That’s urine all right. Straight up piss. But it’s not what Jimmy thinks.
Across the street, leaning with his back up against an electrical pole, arms crossed over his button-down shirt, a smug look on his face… there’s Ryker.
And unless my instincts are wrong—and I know for sure they’re not—he’s responsible for the piss.
He wasn’t wearing those clothes before, I realize. He’d had a black t-shirt on when he first stormed into the bar, and he left with Alek’s blood smeared all over his jeans. Now, he’s traded his tee for a white button-down with the sleeves rolled up to his elbows, and a pair of jeans a few shades darker than the other one.
And maybe he changed because walking around with blood on him in a Fang City is a bad idea. Considering he’s an alpha wolf shifter, though, I think there’s a much more logical reason.
On the plus side, that means he was most likely in wolf form when he decided to take that piss.
I fist my hands on my hips, trying to keep back my claws. As soon as Ryker saw me, he pushed off of the pole, lazily moving across the street until we’re on the same side. He gives me a crooked smile, as if he’s decided that making this whole thing seem like a joke is a better way to approach me.
Only I’m definitely not laughing.
“What do you think you’re doing?”
“Marking my territory.”
Marking his—
I try to stay calm. Try being the operative word there. If my claws shoot out and tear open my palms, I’ll have a hard time popping the caps off a bottles of beer. Sure, I’ll heal pretty quickly, but it’ll be a pain in the ass until then.
Stay in control, Gem. You got this.
Gritting my teeth, I say shortly, “You pissed a circle around the bar?”
“The bar, and everything inside of it,” he agrees.
“But why? It’s not your territory.” If anything, it’s mine. “This bar belongs to Charlie.”
“Ah.” He holds up a finger. No claws, which means he’s still in control of his wolf, too. “But you’re inside of this bar. And you belong to me.”
My jaw drops.
Oh. He did not just say that.
Okay, say I kill Ryker. It’s okay because, technically, this is an alpha challenge. He came into my territory, he challenged me, and now he’s trying to mark something that is mine. Pack law says me killing him would be totally justified, right?
