“Long enough,” Paris replied grimly.
“You shouldn’t eavesdrop on private conversations!”
“When it comes to the pack, I do just about anything.” His body was battle ready. “Now are you going to stab me with that knife or can we talk like normal people?”
She slowly lowered the knife, putting it back on her table. It wouldn’t be much good against him, anyway. It wasn’t made out of silver. “We aren’t normal people.”
“True. But then, I’ve always thought normal was highly overrated.”
Her gaze slid over him. Paris. Handsome Paris. The ladies’ man. The charmer. The guy who usually wore a grin but… “I know what you are.”
“A werewolf.” He shrugged. “Guilty as charged.”
“More. A werewolf in sheep’s clothing.”
He gave a little pout—one she was sure plenty of ladies had found incredibly sexy. “I think you just insulted me,” Paris drawled.
“You are far more than you seem. The easy going fa?ade doesn’t fool me. Not for an instant. You’re a predator to your core.”
“Kind of goes along with being a werewolf…”
“You’re Aidan’s assassin.”
He stiffened. That sexy pout was long gone. Good.
“I know,” she said softly. “There is very little that I don’t see.”
“In that black mirror of yours?” He headed toward the table and picked up her mirror.
Now she was the one to stiffen. It wasn’t as if a mirror like that one was particularly easy to come by. She’d built the power in it slowly.
Don’t let him know. Never let anyone know what matters to you. That way, people couldn’t hurt her as easily.
Gazing into the darkness of her mirror, Paris mused, “You saw Jane turning in this mirror.”
She didn’t speak.
“You know that can’t happen. She’ll have too much power if she rises as a vampire.”
She wondered if he was afraid. “Do you think she’ll be stronger than Aidan? That he won’t be able to stop her?”
He shook his head. Sadness flashed across his handsome face as he set the mirror back down. “No, I’m afraid he won’t have the heart to do it.”
Did Aidan truly love Jane that much? She’d wondered…
Love or the pack? Which would he choose? That she hadn’t been able to see.
“I came to talk to you about the vampire in town,” Paris announced, his voice turning brisk.
She put her hands behind her back. “Seems like plenty of people are curious about him.”
“Did you work a spell for him?”
Now she laughed. “Do I look like I want to be helping vampires?”
“For the right price, I think you might help anyone.”
She schooled her expression. “Now I’m the one insulted.” She pointed to the front door. “How about you haul your handsome ass out of here? I think we’re done.”
He marched—toward her. Not to the door. “He vanished, right before Aidan’s eyes. Just disappeared.”
Oh, no…someone knows how to use some very powerful magic. Part of her was impressed. Another part was very scared.
“I don’t know about you,” Paris continued in that deep voice of his, “but that seemed a bit abnormal to me. I’ve come across plenty of vampires and I’ve never seen one do that.”
Her hands twisted behind her back.
“Did you give him a spell?” He leaned in toward her. She could feel the threat then, stirring in the air around them.
Aidan’s assassin. “No.”
He studied her, as if trying to decide whether or not she was lying. This time, she wasn’t.
“Then how did he do it?” Paris’s scent—rich, masculine, oddly sexy—circled her.
“Maybe…maybe he knows a few spells, too.”
“So he has a witch working for him? Someone like you?”
She wasn’t a witch. “It would explain…how he found Jane.”
“No, plenty of people know about her. It’s hard to keep someone like Jane a secret for long.” He stepped back. “What do you know about Vincent Connor?”
“Nothing.”
He smiled at her. Flashed dimples. A wolf in sheep’s clothing. “Come now, that’s not true. Just moments ago, I heard you tell Jane quite a few things about him…for instance, you said he was there when she died.”
“Y-you need to leave.”
His eyes narrowed. “I’m not here to hurt you.” His voice had softened. Paris almost seemed sincere.
It was good that she knew better than to believe a werewolf’s words.
“If you learn more about Vincent…” Paris pulled a card from his pocket. “Call me. You’ll be well paid for the information that you offer.”
She forced herself to take the card. Their fingers brushed and—dammit—she felt a little electric surge at the contact. The last thing she wanted was to get involved with another werewolf.
Especially one who might try to kill her.
Or Jane.
If Aidan can’t do the job, will his assassin take care of eliminating Jane when she turns?