The night thrums with life despite the late hour, and I'm wide awake. It's become my nature to rise at the setting of the sun and drift through the city unseen, like the warm air that clings to my skin. The musk of honeysuckle and the earthiness of cut grass float through the park. The path ahead lies in shadows. No lamps light the way, and the moon is playing hide-and-seek in the weighty clouds that have been threatening rain since midday.
My mother would say this is a night for staying in. I'd agree, if I hadn't made a promise. I slow near the far edge of the park where the trees of the bordering woods press tight together.
My friend, he's not here.
Every sound sharpens; the whisper of a moth's wings, the crack of twigs as a nocturnal predator prowl for its next meal. The silence is louder, watching.
There are others.
Their heartbeat as steady as my own. I draw the night in through my teeth and let it settle under my tongue tasting the copper tang of blood on the laden air.
I am too late.
Shit. I move toward the trees. A paved path cuts through the woods and curves out of sight after a few steps.
The smell of blood thickens, fresh. A deeper shadow splits from the tree-line onto the path ahead.
I pause, hands flexing at my sides.
The wolf growls, lips peeling back to show a mouthful of white teeth.
"Where is Daniel?"
Its glowing orange gaze flicks right. Too late. I brace for impact as a blur of fur, claws, and teeth barrels into me.
We hit the ground in a roll, the wolf landing on top. One arm is pinned beneath me, my legs caught between strong thighs. I angle my free hand and chop hard into the side of its neck.
The wolf howls.
I grin and grab for its jugular, sinking my nails through grey fur and into flesh. "Get off," I grit out.
"Enough, Anton," the second wolf says, stepping closer.
Human feet enter my peripheral.
Anton rolls off me. I spring to my feet in the same breath, turning to face them both—the alpha and the other male still in wolf form.
"Damian, what the fuck?"
The alpha straightens, folding his arms across his broad chest. His naked body is a wall of muscles packed tight under smooth, midnight skin. Heat radiates off him, heavy as his stare.
"Hollis, it's always a pleasure."
"What have you done with my friend?"
"He was already dead when we got here," he says.
He sweeps a hand toward the two men stepping out of the tree-line, Daniel's limp body slung between them.
I move before I think. The world narrows to the beauty of his slack face. So peaceful, as if they've stumbled upon him napping in the woods. They lower him to the pavement. I drop to my knees and cradle his head in my lap.
His skin is cold, and stone grey. Dark veins map his face and hands like spider webs beneath the surface.
My throat tightens. "Did you see who did this?"
"No." Damian crouches beside me. He tilts Daniel's head to the side, exposing his throat.
I bite back a curse, staring at the two puncture holes crusted with dried blood. "They drained him."
Damian lifts Daniel's hands displaying his well-kept nails. "He didn't fight."
My vision flicks to black; the world pulses with energy as my gaze drops to the blood staining the corners of his mouth. His blood.
Air snags in my throat. Tears sting my eyes. I reach out, my hand trembling as I push his lips back and bare his teeth.
"No." Hot tears slide down my cheeks. "They took his fangs."
"Yes. This was an ambush. Your friend is collateral damage."
I lower Daniel gently and push to my feet. Tremors rack through me; my hands curl into fists. "He's dead because of me."
"Sadly yes. His death was a message; question is who sent it."
Daniel was my family, the one I chose. And they took him from me.
"What do you want us to do?"
I turn to Damian. Tears blur my vision. I do not know what to think. Only that everything inside of me want to tear something apart. For weeks he's wanted to meet, to claim me as a member of his pack. I've denied it, denied the wolf he says lives inside of me.
Now, now it stirs.
The unspoken question lingers between us. Do I go with Damian?
Can I trust him?
The buzz of my phone in my pocket shatters the silence. I pull it out and swipe right without checking the name running across the screen.
"Yeah," I answer.
"I'm back," says the voice on the other end. "I've got some time now, if you still want a listening ear."