And thus Charles found himself wandering around a hotel, trailing federal agents as he held a cardboard coffee cup holder in each hand, instead of out killing misbehaving werewolves.

It was complicated. I understood it, mostly, but I had to think a little sideways to do it.

I was going to have to come up with a rank for myself besides Alpha's mate. In the pack, I was just Mercy- but if ten more people called me the Alpha's mate, I was going to hit someone. It sounded like a chess move.

I thought you were dead. Stupid. As if I'd die without taking you with me.

It Wasn't Hard To Follow The Scent Of Blood To The Living Room Where The Fae Had Been Killed. It Had Been A Violent Death, Perfect For Creating Ghosts.

When we got to the moron who was sitting in the only path to the stairway, Adam caught my waist and lifted me over before stepping over the man himself. “Scott?” Adam said as we headed upstairs. “Yeah?” “Unless someone shoots you, skins you, and throws the results on the floor, I don’t want to see you lying in the walkway again.” “Yessir!

He was like Superman, but with fangs and oddly impaired morals.