When Chaos rules, only the fiercest love survives.
Bright City is growing increasingly discordant. Something dark and treacherous is stalking Rabb and Brant, creating havoc in both of their worlds. The Vampire Council is putting pressure on Brant to become an elder, using Rabb as bait to force him to comply. All the while, Rabb battles deadly fractures in pack alliances and fights his own personal vampire skirmish.
Will the packs fight an internal war to replace Rabb? Will the vampires force Brant to choose sides? War is on the horizon, and it might not only ravage the supes in Bright City, but also devastate the human population living ignorant and helpless among them.
Undeath wears a fine suit, and smells like expensive cologne.
Staring across the bar at the two cold-eyed men, Rabb almost smiled at the thought as his wolf scratched for release beneath his skin.
The bigger one, who imagined he knew Rabb well, tilted his head and spread Cupid’s bow lips in an ugly smile. “No response, Rabb?” Magnus Olaf was over seven feet tall, with light brown hair that curled slightly against the back of his thick neck. It was longer than usual at the moment, and he’d tied it in a tidy tail. With a broad, slightly crooked nose, and a mouth that seemed too small for his wide face, he often looked petulant.
The Norseman had lived during the Viking age and still had a Viking’s attitude, powerful and intimidating. In fact, since walking into the Bright City Lights bar a moment earlier, Magnus had managed to unsettle employees and patrons alike, earning him a nearly constant rotation of stares and glares as he stood sizing Rabb up in his own place.
Rabb shrugged. “I’ve already told you I won’t try to influence Brant’s decision, nothing’s changed.”
The vamp with Magnus was actually a fairly normal six feet tall but appeared small next to the Viking. His wide mouth and full lips were overly sensual and he had a nasty habit of giving Rabb hot eyes while running his tongue over his lower lip as if tasting him from afar. The guy made Rabb’s skin crawl.
“You won’t like the consequences if you don’t cooperate, mate.” The man’s English accent was refined and snooty, like he’d gone to Oxford before Oxford was Oxford and was convinced he was better than everybody else. Brie versus Velveeta better. The snotty accent didn’t go well with the lecherous demeanor.
Stepping closer, Rabb let his wolf bleed just a tiny bit into his gaze. The European vamp sucked in a breath and color flooded his cheeks. Bile rose in Rabb’s gut when he realized the flush wasn’t from fear. A warning growl throbbed in his throat. “I’ll say it one more time. This is my place. My territory. You don’t come into my place and threaten me or mine. If you mosquitoes want a war with us you can have it. Anytime. Anyplace. But for now, get the fuck out of my bar.”
Tension throbbed on the air as the two vampires spilled angry energy into the room. Rabb’s magic didn’t need to climb any higher, he was already a growl away from going full wolf. His fingertips ached from the claws throbbing just beneath the surface of his skin and he hungered to release his fangs.
Magnus’s eyes turned silver, a sure sign he was about to vamp out. But his companion reached over and grasped Magnus’s massive forearm, silently reminding him they had witnesses.
With an obvious effort, Magnus reined back his vamp, his eyes darkening back to gray. A moment later the energy in the air thinned and Magnus smiled, inclining his head toward Rabb. “We’ll be in touch, canine. Very soon.”
“I can’t fucking wait.” Rabb watched the two vamps glide out of the bar and then turned to look at his new security guy, Mychael Broc. Standing a mere two feet away, the big man opened his brown eyes wide and shook his head, obviously relieved their guests had gone.
Rabb couldn’t find relief to draw on at the moment. The vamps were never really gone. They slithered away briefly every once and a while. But like an alcoholic living above a bar, they always came slinking back.