The guy’s hold on his shoulder tightened. “Well, of course, you do. I’m your friend.”
He…was. Sort of. Hadn’t Thatch introduced them at a party a few weeks ago?
“I’ll take you home. Come on, my ride is waiting.”
A walk to clear his head didn’t seem like such a good idea any longer. Not when his stomach was churning, and he’d nearly strolled himself straight into oncoming traffic. “Th-thanks, man.”
“My ride is right here.” The guy pointed to a nearby SUV. “Come on, I’ll help you.”
He could actually really fucking use some help. Travis leaned on the fellow as they approached the vehicle.
“You sure got hammered tonight,” the guy said as he opened the passenger side door. “Celebrating?”
“Thatch is dead.” He just announced it. A really shitty move because his Good Samaritan might not have heard the news, but the words just kind of tumbled out of him. He eased into the passenger seat and closed his eyes. “Fucking dead.”
“Yeah, I know.” The words didn’t sound sorry or stunned or anything like that.
They were…happy?
I had way too much to drink.
But Travis forced his eyes open. The vehicle’s interior light was on, and the guy—he was smiling at Travis.
“Thatch is dead,” his rescuer told him, “and soon, you will be, too.”
“I—”
Something sharp drove into his stomach. Felt like a fistful of knives. He tried to scream but the dude had slammed his left hand over Travis’s mouth.
One hand was over his mouth and the guy’s other hand—
He’s stabbing me! Stabbing…
“Don’t worry.” The man slid his hand back. “You won’t die right away.” He wasn’t holding a knife. Freaking claws—bloody claws—had sprouted from his fingertips. “I’ve discovered I like to play a bit with my prey.”
***
“Someone like me?” Jane’s voice was very, very soft. “What is that supposed to mean?”
He had shit for timing, Aidan knew it. Shit for timing and he had no charm to speak of. When you were used to just telling people something and seeing them immediately react—having that absolute control—you didn’t exactly learn a whole lot of tact.
And Aidan had been an alpha since he was twenty-one. That was the age the alpha instinct kicked in. You would either be a normal werewolf—having some increased strength, superior senses, and some wicked sharp claws that burst out when you hunted or when you were pissed—or, if you had the right bloodline and the right genes…you could be an alpha.
An alpha was an altogether different beast.
A typical werewolf couldn’t transform into the body of a wolf…an alpha could.
A typical werewolf could persuade humans, but not control them. An alpha could control completely.
A typical werewolf couldn’t survive injury after injury after injury…An alpha had blood with special healing properties. An alpha’s blood healed not just the alpha, but it could also be used on other wolves who’d been injured in order to speed up the recovery process.
And an alpha…an alpha was born with the desire to destroy vampires. Innate. Blood and bone deep. When a vamp was near, most werewolves felt the urge to attack. It was just part of their DNA. But when an alpha confronted a vampire…
“Aidan, what exactly did you mean…someone like me?”
Tell her. “You know alpha werewolves…they’re drawn to the vamps-in-waiting.”
“Right. Yeah, you told me this before. And I don’t like that our attraction might be due to some genetic mumbo jumbo.”
It wasn’t mumbo jumbo. It was evolution. As long as Jane stayed the way she was, then the beast in him wanted to protect her. Wanted to be as close to her as possible. Vamps-in-waiting—female vamps-in-waiting—could join with a werewolf to produce very special offspring.
A potential new alpha. Jane didn’t know that part. She didn’t realize that alphas were so rare these days because there weren’t enough women like her left in the world.
“I want you,” he told her clearly, “because you’re you. It’s not some genetic thing.”
She watched him.
“Do you ever wonder about my parents?”
Jane took a step back. “Your parents?”
“I…I need to tell you about them.” He had to make her understand what could happen. And why he was going to take steps to stop the hell that waited. I already put in a call to Annette. She is going to see what magic she can use, if there was any magic that could change the future.
“Paris mentioned them.” She pressed her hand to her right side. She did that a lot—especially when she was nervous or afraid. As if touching the old scar would remind her that she’d survived worse. She could get through whatever was coming next.
Did she even know she made that little move? That it was one of her tells?
“What did Paris say?” He’d have to warn his friend to watch his mouth. Aidan’s secrets were his own to reveal.
“That I needed to—”
She broke off when her phone rang.
Shit.
“I have to get it. This late…it’s probably my job. I’m sorry.”