Page 69 of Protection of the Pack

‘Why would he need to pretend to be young?’

‘I suspect you weren’t the one he was trying to fool. He used you as a smokescreen. Everyone expects us to snarl at wolves.’

‘You haven’t snarled once,’ I pointed out.

‘There’s a griffin here to see that I don’t.’ He slid a wary look at Bastion.

‘If the griffin weren’t here, would you be trying to kill me?’ I asked curiously.

Lord Wokeshire sent me a wry smile. ‘You’re as direct as Jinx.’

‘We’re sisters from another mister,’ I said. ‘We grew up together.’

‘In Common.’

‘But no less for it,’ I rejoined snarkily.

He held his hands, signalling peace. ‘With the Connection ruling the roost, even I wouldn’t kill a wolf for no reason,’ he admitted finally.

‘Maybe we can build some bridges,’ I suggested. ‘Let bygones be bygones.’

He barked a laugh that had no humour in it. ‘There’s too much blood under the bridge.’

‘Water under the bridge,’ I corrected.

He shook his head and sent me a dark look. ‘For our two species, it’s blood. Rivers of it.’ He smirked. ‘Maybe change will come in a vampyr’s lifetime.’

I sighed. ‘Is that a joke, a vampyr’s lifetime? Is it code for never?’

He smiled, and I suspected I’d hit the nail on the head. He stood and inclined his head respectfully to Bastion. Bastion didn’t acknowledge him but continued to watch his every movement with unsettling sharp eyes.

‘Vampyrs have been going missing,’ Bastion asserted.

Lord Wokeshire stilled. ‘I cannot discuss that with you. How did you hear about it?’

‘I have my sources.’

‘No doubt. It is clan business. Tell your sources that if I find out who they are, I’ll kill them myself.’

Bastion smiled in a way that had no warmth. ‘No.’

Lord Wokeshire grimaced but didn’t dare push it further; instead he looked appraisingly at me. ‘It has been interesting meeting you, Lucy Barrett, alpha of the Home Counties pack. You’re smart. Maybe you’ll even survive for a while.’ He stood and Mererid followed. They melted into the shadows and disappeared.

I let out a low whistle. ‘Holy crap on a cracker, that’s a cool way to make an exit.’

‘It’s a pain in the ass when you’re fighting them.’ Manners grimaced, remembering his near-fatal battle with a vampyr that had culminated in his shift into a werewolf.

‘Yeah. That would be tough to fight.’

‘You think they’re there and then, bam, they disappear into the shadows and reappear somewhere else. Not to mention their speed.’

‘I guess with the change we’ve inherited both a wolf and some tough enemies.’

Manners shrugged. ‘Dragons and vampyrs have always been enemies, even more than wolves and vampyrs. With wolves, the vampyrs know they’ll always win. They just need to sit pretty while we age and die.’

‘Damn, that’s heavy.’

‘It’s true. We’re mortal, they’re not – and nor are dragons. It’s why their enmity is particularly strong. They’re fighting over an insult that took place three thousand years ago.’

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