Page 25 of Ember's Claim

“For a wolf who knows so little”—he raises a hand for the bartender—“you’re very bold.”

“I like to blame that on my alpha blood,” I deadpan. “Now, tell me who the hell you are and why I couldn’t say a word about our interaction.”

The bartender comes over with a drink already in hand for Lorcan. That must mean they know him well around here. He drops cash on the bar, and the bartender glances at me.

“Do you need another round?”

“I’m good,” I reply in as friendly a tone as I can muster.

The bartender’s black hair bounces with his clipped nod. He spins around and heads back down to the slightly busier end of the bar without another word.

“You’re on the edge of something that, once you become sucked in, there won’t be an easy path back out.” Lorcan lifts his drink, sniffing it thoroughly before taking a tiny sip.

My head tilts. “That was a roundabout way to say nothing helpful at all…”

The way he smacks his lips makes me think he’s checking to see if his drink was laced with poison or something. With his stellar disposition, that would be an absolutely shocking turn of events.

“How much do you know about what you are?” he asks in barely more than a whisper.

“I’m a shifter. I grew up in a house with two other shifters.” I shrug. “Why are you suddenly obsessed with me?”

His gray eyes sparkle, and not in that hypnotizing way. “Who wouldn’t be? You’re quite an enigma.”

My head shakes.

I’ve met some infuriating men in my day, and this guy is right up at the top of the list. My hand slides into my pocket, grabbing a few extra dollars in cash for an additional tip. I toss it down on the bar and move to stand.

“Calm down and listen to me.” Lorcan reaches out a hand so swiftly, I almost miss it. His scratchy fingers wrap around my wrist as I glare at the contact. “I’m sorry,” he says, and it sounds like it takes quite the effort for him to force the words out. “I’m unused to communicating with anyone new, but I’m not purposely being difficult. Please sit.”

My eyes rake over his face, and with a heavy sigh, I drop back onto the barstool.

“The universe appreciates balance. It has a set order and plan for things. Unfortunately, humanity, monsterkind, demons, the fae—whatever species you can imagine—we all seem to love to fuck that up.”

I place an elbow on the bar, leaning close. “I get the feeling you’re actually trying right now, but I’m still lost.”

“You know what you are,” he says, his accent exceptionally thick. “And you’re also young, so there’s every possibility you have no idea what it means.”

My head tilts as his face contorts. His eyes are glassy and a little far away.

My wolf also takes notice. If she was the one in charge, she’d probably nuzzle her head to his hand and try to comfort him—which is in no way her normal style.

“Female alphas are rare, but not unheard of,” I say, trying to determine if that’s what this is about.

“It’s not your wolf but your dual nature that makes you a target,” he says, and his voice is finally back to the normal version of his accent.

“Wolves mix with humans all the time…” My face wrinkles as my mind races.

This cannot be about my mom’s awful omega genetics.

“Packs thrived for thousands of years. And at the heart of each community pack was a family pack,” Lorcan says softly. “The balance changed when alphas decided they no longer wanted to share the power of running things…” He studies my face like he’s searching for something. Possibly recognition, which I’m sure he finds none of, because I’ve never heard this before.

“Wolves are monogamous,” I hear myself say. Monster communities run a little differently, but most shifters are possessive of their mate and that makes sharing difficult. “Hence, the whole matebond thing.”

Then again, my dad is a demon shifter, and he shares my mom.

Veryn’s family pack consists of a dragon, a wyvern, and a djinn.

My Uncle Ridge is an alpha wolf, and he’s one of four in Nadia’s pack.

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