Hunting Ground

“Salope,” Chastel snarled.

She knew that much French. “Thank you.”

And suddenly, because she had neither seen nor heard him, Charles was there, standing directly behind Chastel. “Be careful whom you call a bitch, Jean, mon cher,” he said in a voice that was too calm to be believable. “Someone might feel it was an insult.”

Chastel turned around, giving A

“Did she?” Charles looked at her, and she saw the approval in his face. She doubted anyone else would have read anything at all. His voice was a caress, just for her. “Would you like that, love?”

She clasped her hands under her chin in her best silent-film-star pose. “Only if I can watch.”

Charles laughed and, on the tail end of the sound, rounded on Chastel, using the motion to place himself between the Frenchman and A

She couldn’t see her mate’s face, but she saw Chastel flinch and drop his eyes. His hands fisted, but it didn’t keep him from taking a step back. With a low oath, he turned and stalked away.

Charles tilted his head, obviously listening to Chastel leave.

“While he was still alive?” he said.

“Women are the bloodthirsty sex,” said Ric sadly. “We get the reputation, but it is only because the women stand behind us, and say, ‘Kill it. Squish it.’ ”

A

Ric hopped off the desk, where he’d been crouched and ready to pounce if needed, and held out his hand. “Postinger. Heinrich Postinger.”

Charles shook his hand. “I am Charles Cornick.”

Ric looked at A

“Ric is a psychologist,” A

“He was going to go after her no matter what she did,” said Charles.

A

Charles kissed her. “Yes,” he said, pulling his mouth away. “There is that, isn’t there? I have to go back- everyone is still in the auditorium waiting on me. Would you please lock the door this time? It doesn’t do you any good hanging open so anyone can walk in, O-Woman-Who-is-Not-a-Chicken.”

“Of course.” And with a sudden burst of confidence, she rose on her toes and kissed his chin-which was as high as she could manage. He didn’t help, but his eyes were smiling when she finished.

“Good,” he said, though whether to the kiss or to her agreement to lock the door he left deliberately up in the air.

He’d reached the door when she remembered there was something he should know. “He didn’t know anything about the vampires.”

When Charles looked back at her, she said, “I told him I killed one of his vampires, and he didn’t have any idea what I was talking about.”

“Chastel never was a good suspect for bringing in vampires,” Charles said. “But it is good to know for sure.”

He smiled at her. Then, with a nod at Ric, he left, shutting the door behind him. She waited a moment.

“A

She gri

It had felt good to defend herself against Chastel, even if it was only with words. She was tired of being afraid of her own shadow-and for a little while she hadn’t been afraid at all. She liked it.

With the fae supervising the hunt, not to mention Charles observing (he wouldn’t join the hunt; like Angus, he was one of the hosts), she would be as safe there as she would ever be surrounded by Alphas.

She turned to Ric. “If your Alpha agrees to help play bodyguard, I’d love to join the hunt tonight.”

He nodded. “I’ll ask him.”

SUNNY frowned at the nail she’d chipped as she took the elevator down to the parking garage. Arthur was tied up in werewolf functions tonight, so she’d taken the opportunity to have di

She didn’t have any close female friends-it is a hard thing not to tell a friend that the reason your husband looks so young is because he’s a werewolf. And friends you have for a long time tend to notice things like your husband’s not aging at all. So she had condos in various cities, and when she’d lived in a place off and on for a decade or so, she would uproot and move somewhere no one knew her. She’d write letters or e-mails for a few months, then let the friendship drift away.

These women she’d known for a couple of years, casual friends who liked to go out without husband or boyfriend once in a while and talk girl stuff. She’d met them at the gym, and they shared no real interests, but they were smart, fu

She’d left them before dessert, though, because she didn’t trust herself not to indulge. The restaurant they’d chosen was justly famous for its exotic cheesecake. She hadn’t kept her figure by allowing herself to sample food she might like too much-and she’d noticed it was getting dark. Arthur didn’t like it when she was out too late, he worried about her.

The elevator opened onto the right level for her car. The light next to the elevator was out. She hurried through the darkness until the next light, then felt silly for her anxiousness.

Someone on the other side of the garage was arguing with his girlfriend. Neither of them was very upset. Probably foreplay, she thought. She and Arthur indulged, and she recognized the tone.

She looked, but she couldn’t see the couple because an SUV was in the way. Before she got a clear view, the sound of car doors shutting cut off the sound of their bickering. A car engine started, and a silver Porsche passed by, its lights momentarily blinding her.

She dropped her keys and started to kneel and pick them up. Someone’s hand was there first.

“Allow me.” The man was taller than her Arthur, though not as wide through the shoulders. For a minute she was worried-as any woman alone in a parking garage with a stranger would be. But then she saw the cut of his wool coat: thugs wouldn’t wear expensive coats and white linen shirts.

“Thank you,” she said as she took her keys out of the leather-gloved hand that held them out to her.

“No troubles,” he said. “You’ll forgive me the question-but what is a lovely woman like you doing out here all alone?”

Part of her preened under his obvious admiration-she knew her aging distressed Arthur. The honest appreciation in a handsome man’s eyes soothed a growing wound in her heart. This man looked to be a few years older than she, and his ma

“I was dining with friends,” she told him. “My husband is waiting for me.”

“Ah” He opened his fingers as if he’d held something precious he had to let go. It was so artfully done that she was certain he had to be an actor or maybe a dancer. “I should have known that such a lovely woman would not be left free-but a man lives on hope. Your accent is charming-you are British?”

“Yes. And so is my husband. Thank you for the keys and the compliment.” She smiled at him and headed for her car with brisk strides that would let him understand that, although she appreciated his admiration, she was not available. The smile stayed on her face, warmed a little, as soon as she had her back to him.

She pressed the button that unlocked her car and opened the door-and a hand closed around her mouth.