Page 19 of The Biting Bargain

Mustache tuts. "My dear, don't waste your time and mine. Patrick Threehorn owes Balzar DiMartino money. That means you owe Balzar DiMartino money. Your nice boyfriend assured us that you would take care of it as the loving girlfriend that you are."

Fucking, fucking Patrick, burn in hell! That these people have it in for me just because he had to go and borrow money from one of the nastiest crime lords ever, and then run off to Southeast Asia, where, according to social media, he parties with a bunch of bikini girls on a speedboat, is all his fucking fault. If I ever get my hands on my filthy ex again, I'll dip him into ketchup and throw him into a cage with ketchup-crazed tigers!

"I don't owe Mr. DiMartino anything. That's Patrick's business," I say, trying to sound cool. And fail.

Mustache leans in.

"Mr. Threehorn says different." His breath is way too close to my face. I turn my face away.

"Mr. Threehorn is full of shit."

"Makes no difference." He grins. "You will accompany us to Mr. DiMartino’s office so we can find you an occupation to pay off your debt. That's exactly how it's going to go. Right, Rocco?"

"Right," Rocco rumbles, devouring another steak.

My body kicks into action before my brain comes up with a smarter plan. I duck past Mustache and dart off, faster than the guy can look. He gasps in surprise. But hey, I might not look like it, but I have a few tricks left. I was the best at track and field in school. Too bad I didn't make anything of it. I could be a professional Olympic athlete right now instead of running from two thugs in a stinky, dark alley.

"Get her!" Mustache yells, and next thing I know I run into a wall. I didn't expect how fast Rocco could wolf down a steak and activate his kung-fu reflexes. I scream out as he grabs me with his giant fists and slams me against the brick wall. Burning pain flares in my wrists.

"The hard way then," Mustache sighs, straightening his oily hair, and Rocco gives a growling laugh as I squirm and kick his leg, which seems to be made of rock…

As a rumbling growl fills the air. Rocco and Mustache flinch.

"What was that?"

"Dunno..."

The fluorescent lighting above flickers off. Darkness closes in around us. The rumbling growl increases, sending goosebumps down my spine. The iron grip of Rocco's paws vanishes from my wrists. I slide down the wall. Mustache curses in a language I don't understand, and then he screams out. The growl becomes a ripping snarl as a fanged shadow lunges at him and knocks him off his feet.

ChapterEight

Vincent

The half moonlooming over the city like a scythe in the pitch-black night sky is the only reason my mind is present at all.

The only reason I am even able to notice throwing the greasy bastard to the ground and growling in his face while he rolls screaming on the cobblestones is because the power of the half moon is not enough to tick me off completely.

The only reason I can even think about what's happening.

My field of vision is a red blur, there’s almost nothing left of me but the black furry thing, baring its fangs and demanding to hunt and maul. Only a tiny shred of my mind is still wide awake.

Analyzing.

None of this was supposed to happen. Me being in this shape at all. Following her scent for days — a colorful ribbon of saturated and rich aromas trailing behind her wherever she goes — like a junkie craving the next shot.

Tucked into the shadows, lurking, watching, barely able to hold myself back.

That this form could take over at all, and my blood is now running red hot and frenzied through my veins, and everything in me is focused on gettingherback in my clutches....

...it’s impossible. None of this should be happening.

I had taken care of it.

Another roar rolls off my throat, saliva flying in the face of my screaming victim on the ground. The second guy, a troll the size of a small truck, runs away mooing in fear, carelessly bumping the girl against the brick wall as if she were just an annoying obstacle in his escape.

She crashes against the stone and slumps to the ground.

Bastards!

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