“Because you told her to eat lunch here, you git,” Astaroth muttered under his breath. He gripped his fork, envisioning how it would look embedded in Kai’s neck.
If Kai heard him—and he certainly did, with heightened werewolf senses—he gave no sign. He swept an extravagant bow toward Calladia while his teammates snickered. “I apologize for these hoodlums. They’re not used to polite company.”
“Oh, shut up,” a werewolf with brown hair said. “This clown scores two tries and thinks he’s Lycaon’s gift to womankind.”
Kai scoffed. “Oh, please, Avram. I’m the best number eight this side of the international date line.”
The other werewolf slapped Kai upside the head. “The best? Maybe in the peewee league.”
“Exactly.” Kai winked at Calladia, which nearly earned him a fork through the eye. “Those little fuckers don’t stand a chance.”
“Stop flirting with customers,” Bronwyn said, bumping him with her hip. The dryad only came up to Kai’s shoulder, but she carried herself with the confidence of someone who knew she could snap her fingers and the whole pack would come running. “These two are looking for Isobel.”
“Two?” Kai asked. “I only have eyes for the lovely lady.”
Astaroth scoffed. “Oh, please.”
Calladia looked like she was biting back a smile. “Nice to meet you all,” she said to the team at large. “I’m Calladia.”
Why was Calladia entertaining the crude advances of this oaf? Anyone could see she was out of his league.
Kai scooped up her hand, bent over, and kissed it. “The pleasure is all ours.” He glanced up with his lips still pressed against her skin and winked again. “Especially mine.”
Astaroth’s hold on his temper snapped. He shot to his feet, sending silverware flying. “Get your hands off her.”
Calladia jolted in her chair, pulling her hand back. She blinked at Astaroth owlishly. “Astaroth, it’s fine.”
“Is it, though?” It had been a piss-poor few days, and after everything that had happened with his mother, he wasn’t in the mood to watch a bloody werewolf flirt with his witch.
“Easy, mate,” Kai said. His eyes were fixed on Astaroth’s horns, and his jovial expression had vanished, replaced with the calculating look of a man sizing up an opponent. “Don’t you think that’s a bit possessive for someone not dating her?”
Astaroth crossed his arms, scowling.
“You aren’t dating, right?” Kai’s tone said he wasn’t asking. “Just two sworn enemies on a quest, she said.”
“And she’s my sworn enemy, not yours,” Astaroth snapped.
The other werewolves muttered and shifted as Kai looked Astaroth up and down. The air thrummed with tension. Werewolves were notorious for fighting at the slightest provocation, and although Astaroth wasn’t keen to collect another head injury, he wished the werewolf would start something. Astaroth might be smaller, but he had speed, a pissy mood, and centuries of experience on his side, not to mention a fork that would look very festive in a werewolf’s eyeball.
Calladia’s chest rose and fell rapidly, and she licked her lips as she looked between the two males. Her hand curled into a fist.
After an interminable moment, Kai threw back his head and let out a hearty laugh. “Good luck with that, mate. I’d rather make an ally of a pretty woman than an enemy, but you do you.” His smile sharpened, and he snapped his teeth. A werewolf threat. “I suggest you operate carefully though. We take care of our own out here, and if you try to steal any souls or hurt the locals, there’s going to be trouble.” He turned to Calladia, his demeanor melting back into cocky flirtatiousness. “Should you crave better company, our table’s by the window.”
The werewolves trooped to a long trestle table, resuming their shouts and banter. Bronwyn looked at Astaroth and shook her head. “Pissing off a pack of werewolves never ends the way you think it will.” She headed toward the bar and started pulling pints.
Calladia blew out a shuddering breath. “Damn. That would have been a good one.”
“A good what?” Astaroth asked, distracted by the sight of Kai regaling his team with some story that involved copious hand-waving.
“A good fight.” She tipped her head to each shoulder, cracking her neck. “I have to limit my brawling in Glimmer Falls so I don’t get banned from my favorite spots, and a woman has needs.”
Astaroth forgot all about the werewolves. The rest of the sentence faded away, too, irrelevant compared to those last four words: a woman has needs.
He plunked into his seat and leaned in, lacing his hands together on the table. “Needs, is it? Care to elaborate?”
Her needs would be extensive, he guessed. All that temper and fire needed an outlet. In bed, she’d be rough and demanding, expecting her partner to match her energy. It would be a fight for supremacy, no easy conquest, and she’d want the upper hand more often than not.
His pulse accelerated at the thought. He’d happily cede the upper hand if she wanted. Being pinned down and ridden until he couldn’t see straight would be as much a victory as doing the pinning.
Calladia sighed and traced the rim of her glass with her finger. “I miss punching people.”
Astaroth’s fantasies smacked into the harsh wall of reality. She’d mentioned brawling, not shagging. Right. Except—
“Wait, you want to fight a pack of werewolves?” he asked incredulously.
“Wouldn’t be the first time.” Calladia looked at the wolves as if sizing them up.
No, Astaroth thought. Look at me, not them. “They’re twice your size.”
“Exactly.” Calladia turned back to him. “It’s a challenge, and they’re very egalitarian. Lots of guys refuse to fight a woman, but werewolves respect anyone who steps up. It’s actually safer than a lot of brawling, since they do it so much. No killing or maiming when it’s recreational. They’ll go from punching to buying each other drinks in a matter of minutes.”
Astaroth couldn’t believe this. “You’ve fought werewolves before,” he said slowly. “And you think it’s admirable they’re willing to punch you?”
She shrugged. “Think of it like sparring in martial arts. If your opponent is capable, why not treat them that way?”
And yes, all right, Astaroth understood that line of thinking and had dueled a few lady pirates back in the day, but this was different. This was Calladia, and no matter how strong she was, all mortals were breakable. “They could hurt you.”
“A little pain spices things up, don’t you think?” As if that sentence wasn’t enough to play havoc with the pleasure centers of Astaroth’s brain, Calladia followed it up with a wink.
“Guh,” was all he managed to say.
Fresh cacophony sounded from the entrance to the Red Deer.