Page 9 of Touch of Evil

He leans back on his heels and crosses his arms, appearing amused. “Did you just say no thank you?”

Long dark waves of blue-black hair frame flawless, deep olive skin and gray eyes, that women would pay to ogle at, sparkle back at me. This vampire is not used to hearing no.

“Ah, yes?” I offer.

“I don’t think you understand. With me, you’re guaranteed a good time.”

I start to explain that our last good time with an undead landed us in Vampire Court. His interest drifts from me and toward the direction I arrived from. His gaze narrows as if in a standoff with another predator. When I glance behind me and find nothing, I use the opportunity to slip inside, stopping suddenly when the vampire furrows his brow into a menacing scowl.

Another vampire appears, whispering something that makes the bouncer laugh. He eases back down to his stool, maintaining his focus further down the street.

My pace isn’t as quick as it was, naturally slowing from the unusual encounter. It’s a good thing. I don’t want to appear anxious. Except now that I’m here, it’s an emotion I can’t suppress.

A Chris Young tribute band blasts away, replacing the regular DJ and the equipment she uses. The lead singer is good, belting outRaised on Countryand making it his own.

The crowd trickles onto the dance floor and closer to the band, the hoots and hollers growing in numbers as more take to the floor.

The space isn’t cluttered, and I easily snake my way through. I love it. Being petite and thin, it doesn’t take large numbers to trample me. Too many times I’ve relied on my sisters or used myforceto avoid being knocked to the ground.

The smile I couldn’t muster before easily appears when I find Bren working the rear bar. He fills a pitcher with beer while pouring whiskey for two men. With a flick of his elbow, he turns off the tap and tops off the glasses filled with ice.

A charcoal gray and navy flannel shirt stretches across his broad shoulders, years of wear threatening to rip the fabric with just one good flex. It’s the one Celia bought him the first Christmas we celebrated together. It lightens those eyes that I swear shed tears when he opened his gift. He loved that we thought enough of him to buy him gifts and include him in our celebration.

Mostly, he just loved us.

I place my purse on the hook beneath the bar and take a seat at the corner. He’s working hard and I don’t want to disrupt his flow. I twist slightly to scan the area. For the moment, there aren’t any girls flirting with Bren. That will change. For now, he’s mine.

Well, I don’t meanmine.

At least, not yet…

Chapter Four

Emme

Thoughts of Bren being mine, for even one night, cues my next blush. The first time I was attracted to Bren was the first time we met and he, well,breathed. He thought of me as a “kid” and laughed when I asked him for a date. It’s a good thing I don’t embarrass easily, says the person who embarrassesveryeasily.

Bren scratches his light beard. It’s slightly darker than his wavy brown hair, and something he usually does when he’s agitated or thinking matters through. He tilts his head as he reaches for a bottle of scotch. The motion is brief, just enough for me to catch a glimpse at his eyes. They’re deep blue, not the typical werewolf brown or amber.

He must have inherited those pretty eyes from his human mother. I’d ask him, but Bren is very closed-mouthed about his life as aloneand extremely private when it comes to his parents.There’s a lot we don’t know about his past, just enough to see that he’s suffered his lion’s share of pain.

I pass my fingers along the slick wood, realizing how much I’m crushing on Bren. I’ve ignored my feelings for a while, certain his feelings for me had not changed until our latest supernatural debacle. We were hurt. Blood and soil soaked our skin and hair and my clothes clung to me in tatters. I thought I saw him looking at methat way, the way that demonstrated how much I’ve changed and how the challenges we’ve endured these past few years have matured me well beyond my years. Maybe I imagined it. Maybe it was nothing. Like Taran used to say, “Just cause you’re looking doesn’t mean you want to ride that cowboy bareback till sunrise.”

I wince. Okay, perhaps that wasn’t the greatest Taran quote I could have referenced.

Bren slaps his hand down on a tip and pockets it. “Much appreciated,” he tells the man who left it.

He catches my aroma and whips his head in my direction. “Hey,” he says, surprise marching across his features like an army. “I didn’t see you there.”

His words are staggered, reflecting the shock my presence evidently stirred. “Hi, Bren,” I say. I offer a small wave. Even though mere feet separate us, he feels so far away. “I just sat down. I didn’t mean to distract you.”

If all those years hadn’t passed, and the wolves remained strangers to us, I would have sat closer. I’d kiss Bren hello and instantly start talking to him. He’d jabber on about his day or say something loud and inappropriate that would leave me covering my face and no-doubt in stitches. It’s the way things used to be for us.

My sisters still hug him, even though it sets off their wolves. I don’t have anyone and I can’t get anywhere near him.

Bren has kept his distance from me and there are moments when he’s wrenched away to avoid my touch. Those moments were tense, and danger surrounded us like a swarm of murder hornets, so I tried to understand. But there’s no tension today, and most especially, no danger, right?

His features relax, along with his typically booming voice. “Hey, sweet thing,” he says. “Slide on over and keep me company.”

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