Page 45 of The Wolf in My Tavern

As if I am not having enough trouble with control here, he lifts his head and howls inside my head until I fear I might go fucking mad.

Bastard.

It is his fucking fault we are in this position at all.

He chuffs at me. Disgruntled. And taunting me, too.

Fine, I can admit I would have killed the bastard who hurt our woman with my bare hands had my wolf not stepped in.

My woman. Fuck. I cannot think of her that way.

“I have been looking for this one for a while,” Anders finally says, indicating the man accused of cheating. “He was due for a hanging when found. As for this other worthless bastard… I’ve had no end of trouble tonight. Five men will be hanging tomorrow, and all of them came from the same ship. See here” —he uses the tip of his boot to draw the man’s lapel to the side, revealing a small motif— “I’ll be glad when that ship leaves port for good.”

Turning away from the body, he pins me with a look. Although he is a beta, he is not intimidated by me. “Could you not have used a fucking sword?”

I resist the urge to bare my teeth, just. As if I was thinking straight enough to use a sword.

“He was not thinking straight enough to use a sword,” Drake says like he can read my fucking mind. “As Tim explained, his wolf has imprinted.”

“So you’re claiming a tavern wench, then, are you?” Anders demands, looking between Tim and me as though seeking to double-check.

“He is not claiming the wench,” Drake says.

“The claiming part is to be determined,” I counter. I have officially lost all my wits.

Drake rolls his eyes. If we were alone, I would take him by the throat and slam him against the nearest wall.

“The lass is betrothed,” Tim offers, giving me a side-eye. “To the blacksmith’s lad a few doors down.”

“Callum?” Anders raises his bushy brows. “I know the lad and his father. I’m sure both will have something to say about that.”

“Fine. I am not claiming the lass,” I push past gritted teeth. “My wolf merely wants to.”

“Good,” Anders says, turning back to the matter at hand, which involves two dead bodies. “We are all on the same page here. It will not be cheap to clear up. Need to pay a few not to ask questions… and another who can be relied upon to drop the bodies…” He grimaces at the corpses. “Maybe run them over with a cart a time or two so that they don’t look like they have been ripped apart by a giant fucking wolf.”

A low growl rattles in my chest.

Drake puts his hand on my shoulder, and the sound stops.

“We have the necessary coin,” Drake says. Reaching into his pocket, he draws out a heavy pouch and passes it across with a sigh.

Anders weighs it in his palm, nods, and then slips it into a pocket. “That’ll cover it.”

I do not doubt some of those coins will remain permanently in his care.

They are all business now, and an agreement has been made. A tarp is brought through, and the bodies are wrapped up.

In short order, the dead men are removed, and tavern staff bustle in to mop up the mess.

I’ll need to give Tim a bag of coins, too.

“Stay out of trouble. The pair of you,” Anders says, pinning us with a final glare. “The ship you’re looking for is due in tomorrow. I trust that afterward, you will leave the city for good. We don’t want any trouble here—got more than enough of our own. I don’t like to see a man swing from the gallows when he doesn’t need to, be him a shifter or not. But make no mistake. If you seek to poach Callum’s lass, I’ll be the first in the line seeing that you swing.”

Warning issued, he lifts a hand in salute to Tim and stalks out.

I appreciate a man who talks plainly, even if I don’t much like what he has to say.

Tim, Drake, and I stand apart from the tavern workers who are finishing setting the rest of the room to rights. I offer Tim an apology for bringing this trouble to his door… and another bag of coins.

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