Page 56 of Predator

And that’s when I feel a tug on my bond with Lucas a split second before a roaring howl seems to shake the whole freaking manor, and I know what to do.

My mate is here—and it’s time for us to go.

There’s so much more I want to ask Jeannie—a hundred questions? Try a thousand—but there’s a time and a place for interrogating my old friend and this? It ain’t it.

I start shrugging off my cloak. Undoing the snap that connects beneath my chin, once I have it in my hand, I hold it out to Jeannie.

She doesn’t take it. “What’s that for?”

Seriously? I use my free hand to gesture vaguely at her body. “Unless you want to borrow Remy’s pants or something, this is all I have for you to cover up. Hurry. We’re leaving.”

Jeannie snorts. “I’m good, Fal. If they don’t want to see what I got, they can look away. Besides, this is a witch coven. Don’t they strip down and do spells when the Luna’s out? I’m pretty sure they do.”

Oh my God. Really? It’s bad enough that Jeannie is a supe—and wait until I’m coherent enough for that bomb to finally settle—but she’s another Jade? I should’ve expected that. Both Jeannie and Lorelei were like modesty, don’t know her, when we shared a dorm at school. I saw their tits more than my own those years which is probably one of the reasons I never developed a crush on either of the twins. It was just too… too easy.

Of course, I was also best friends with one, frenemies with the other, and it just goes to show how shitty my luck is that it’s Jeannie who the moon goddess sent to Winter Creek. One of the only things I missed from my old life were my evening gab sessions with Lorelei, but she’s not here, Jeannie is, and the stubborn Lipton twin is about to march through the coven house bare-assed naked.

I’m not about to go searching for one of Marie’s seamstress outlets to grab a dress to yank on over her head. I don’t even waste the time to see if any of the dresses she gave me are still hanging in the closet.

Shit. I’m in my old room, and I don’t even bother looking for my purse. That and everything inside of it—my wallet, my ID, my phone—all belong to a different Fallon. This one? She just wants to get away from the witches while she can.

Now, I’m no prude. I couldn’t give a shit if Jeannie wants to strut around with her tits hanging out. However, my senses are pinging like freaking mad, telling me that Lucas is near, and there’s no time to waste. Two witches are dead. Odds of us sneaking out of the house without dealing with the others are low enough. Kind of hard to be discreet when she’s completely nude.

And, okay, I’d prefer her to be a little bit covered when we reunite with the pack…

“Forget it,” I snap, holding the cloak close against my chest. “Take a zap to the ass as we make our escape. When your wolf has a bald patch, don’t complain to me.”

“Oh, give it.” Just like I thought, Jeannie falls for my reverse psychology—or her vanity—and snatches the cloak from me. Rolling her eyes, she struggles with putting it on, huffing under her breath as she uses her long nails to snap it. “Happy?”

Freaking ecstatic. “Come on. Let’s get out of here before we both have the witches coming after us.”

It’s inevitable, right? No matter why or how I lost control, Marie is dead because of me. No denying that Jeannie freaking slaughtered Remy. Obviously, we can do a lot of damage together, but against forty, fifty witches?

No. It’s better to run like hell, get back on wolf territory, and figure out what happens next there.

We’re on the second floor. Helping Jade out of the first floor window seemed like a good idea at the time, but I didn’t think it would be smart to swan dive out of this one. I had every intention of finding an exit on ground level.

And that’s when Jeannie throws open the window, peeks down, then braces her hands against the frame.

“Jeannie. Jeannie… you’re not going to do what I think you’re going to do?—”

She tosses me a daring grin. “See you outside, Fallon.”

I don’t even get a chance to stop her. A push off the edge and she’s gone. By the time I dash over there, she’s landed in a practiced crouch before gesturing for me to follow.

Crap.

I’m not afraid of heights—nope, my kryptonite has always been blood… though immersion therapy has seemed to be doing wonders for me today—but at times like these, I wish I was. It’d be so much easier to avoid jumping off of high things if I was too much of a chicken shit to do it.

But, hey. I jumped off of the rope bridge into the Winter Creek. More importantly, there’s no way in hell I’m going to wimp out on something that Jeannie Lipton did easily.

Taking a deep breath, hoping my shifter side knows how to land without breaking my legs because I sure don’t, I climb up on the windowsill and jump.

So my landing isn’t as graceful as Jeannie’s. When I bounce back up, my ankles aren’t broken or twisted. I consider that a win in my book.

And then I see the wolf behind the howl that shook the house and nothing else matters.

“Lucas!”

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