Page 13 of The Wolf

Brine rolled his eyes and dressed quickly before taking stock of his body. He had taken several cuts to his forearms, though he wasn’t sure when in the fight they’d occurred.

Not bad.

Chesh flashed a grin, his green feline eyes filled with excitement. He remained entirely unscathed, even in his expensive clothes. There wasn’t one spot of blood or soot. Not even a snag from a blade.

“You’re worse than Pyre,” Brine muttered.

His friend grinned, flashing sharp canines. Chesh did a mock bow. “I live to serve.”

Brine huffed out a breath and yanked on his boots, then tossed a cloak carelessly over his broad shoulders. “If only.”

“Come on,” Chesh urged with a smile. “We must be off before someone notices what we’ve done. Let’s have an ale and celebrate and lie low for a little while.” He pulled the diamonds from his jacket and deftly tossed the velvet bag to Brine.

Catching the gems, he stowed them away and arched a black brow. “A bit late for that, Chesh,” he said dryly, indicating toward the flaming mess in the water.

“Always so grim.” Chesh flipped his cloak so the brown side was out and the black inside – another way to keep their identity hidden. The feline pulled the hood up and brushed by Brine and opened the rickety door of the shanty. “I tire of this hovel. Let’s be gone.”

Brine cautiously followed his friend out into the lane. On silent feet, they snaked their way through Callmai, the pirate city, until they found their destination.

The Tipsy Kraken—a tavern and inn owned by a Talagan in Pyre’s employ.

“I wonder who wants Tempest so badly,” Chesh murmured, when they slipped into their regular corner table in the darkest part of the tavern. The feline sighed happily when the deer shifter—a very pretty young woman named Sarah—set down two tankards of their favorite pale ale.

“Why thank you, darling,” Chesh purred. “Are you finally starting to warm to me?”

She narrowed her eyes. “You are a blight on the world.” She turned tail and strode back to the bar.

Brine hid his smile. He liked the prickly Sarah. She didn’t let Chesh get away with anything.

Chesh sighed, his gaze still on the deer shifter as Brine took a sip of his ale. It was cold and satisfying as it slid down his throat, though he found that he didn’t really have the taste for alcohol tonight.

“So?” the feline asked, turning his attention back to Brine. “Who wants our lovely Lady Hound?”

“There are hundreds of people on that list,” Brine replied darkly, setting his ale down a little too roughly, causing some to slosh over the edge. “Most of these bloody lords still believe she’s the evil voice in Ansette’s ear telling her to imprison them. They believe she is their ruin. That she is controlling the queen.”

“And they would be right. She was their doom.” Chesh chuckled softly. “Funny that the only time they’ve ever put stock in the intelligence of a woman is to insult the abilities of a teenage girl.”

“Hilarious.”

They fell silent, both lost to their thoughts.

It bothered Brine that someone was after Tempest. Their line of work wasn’t the safest, and they’d fielded assassination attempts, but this was different. Someone wanted Tempest alive. They wanted to own her.Controlher.

“What’s with you tonight?” the feline inquired, slinging his feet up onto the bench he was sitting on.

Brine looked up from his ale, frowning. “What do you mean?”

Chesh chucked his chin at Brine’s half full tankard that Brine had subconsciously been trying to squeeze the life out of.

“Even back on the ship I could tell you weren’t fighting with your usual gusto. What’s bothering you, my lupine friend?”

If this had been the Brine who had put Tempest through her paces when she’d first intercepted the Dark Court—the one who helped bring down Destin and all the rotten, hideous things he had done to his kingdom—he would have told Chesh to shove it where the sun doesn’t shine and carry on with his business. But the wolf had started to soften lately around his friends, and with every passing day he found that he didn’t mind them asking him personal questions as much as he had. He was tired of being alone. So he decided to accept the pack around him that had already accepted him.

“In all honesty,” he grumbled, avoiding Chesh’s curious gaze, “I’m not sure. I think I might miss home.”

“Home?”

“Whenever I get tired like this, it’s usually because I miss home. I haven’t been back in … well, years.”

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