Page 125 of Golden Eagle

She plucked a wing out of a basket and said, “Not terrible. But not good either.”

They ate, and drank, and talked, and, slowly, the tension bled out of all of them.

Lanny laughed at something Jamie said, and the way he threw his head back with the motion left Trina smiling, pink-cheeked. Nikita gave Sasha’s thigh a reassuring squeeze, and pressed their shoulders together, and things were okay. They were okay.

“Allow me to get the next round,” Dante said, dramatic, nose in the air and arm gesturing elegantly.

Lanny threw a balled-up napkin at him. “You fucking better.”

The napkin bounced off Dante’s forehead and a grin threatened. “I shall return.” He wriggled through the ever-increasing crowd toward the bar, since their server hadn’t been able to get by their table again.

“Like hell can he carry that many drinks,” Lanny said. He made a distasteful butler joke that had Jamie and Trina groaning.

Sasha didn’t hear the particulars of it.

Above the crush of bodies, and food, and hops, and the antique wood perfume of the place, he caught another scent: vampire.

A fresh wave of adrenaline flooded his tired body, and he sat bolt upright. Nikita’s hand clamped down like a vise: he’d smelled them, too.

There were two. Male and female. And the male was…familiar, almost. Something…

A boisterous group of twenty-something boys barreled through the pub, slopping beer and shouting to their friends already seated. In their wake, they left a rare opening in the crowd. That was when Sasha saw him: standing just three paces from their table.

His tall, slender build was highlighted by skinny jeans and a black leather jacket. He wore his golden hair in one long braid that draped over his shoulder. Sasha had never seen him like this, in modern clothes. But there was no mistaking his face; the twinkling blue eyes and the sharp smile and the beautiful bone structure.

“Val!”

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