Embraced By Darkness

He nodded.

Well, we werewolves did tend to get around—especially now it was law that employers couldn't discriminate against us because of the moon heat. Although I did find it surprising they'd bed the human males over the nonhuman. There were too many inherent risks in that sort of choice—although the mere fact that wolf-human half-breeds existed suggested there were plenty who didn't agree with my point of view.

"That doesn't mean they bedded the same man," I said. "As I've already said, there's more than one male working on this island."

"His description matches the one I have from Adrie

So, Adrie

"I know." His voice was grim. "Clairvoyance is a pack inheritance, remember?"

"I don't believe anyone bothered mentioning that to the half-breeds." Though it did at least explain where my no-longer-latent clairvoyance skills came from.

Amusement twinkled briefly in his cold gray eyes. "An oversight, I'm sure."

Hate swelled up, its bitter taste just about making me gag. "This isn't a Directorate problem, Blake. Go haunt someone else, because I'm not interested in helping you or your get."

I turned and walked away, as fast as I could. That prickle of awareness told me Blake hadn't moved, and yet his voice reached out across the distance as easily as if he were standing right beside me.

"You will help us, Riley."

"That impolite response I cast your way earlier still stands."

"Riley, stop."

My muscles twitched with the need to obey, but my vampire half was having none of that. It was all I could do not to break into a run to get away from his presence—thought if I thought it would do any good, I probably would have.

"Riley, I'm ordering you to stop right now, or face the consequences."

"There's nothing you can do to me, Blake. Not anymore."

I should have known better than to tempt fate like that. I really should have.

"If you do not stop this instant," he said softly, "I will kill you mother."

Chapter Two

I stopped.

How could I not? I might not have seen my mother since we'd been thrown out of the pack at sixteen, but that didn't mean I didn't love her. Didn't mean I wanted her dead.

She was my mother, for Christ's sake.

I swung around. "Trust me, Blake. You do not want to go this route. It's a very bad thing to do."

His smile was arrogant. Confident. "There's nothing the Directorate can do to me. I'm well within the law to chastise my pack as I see fit. If a pack member dies during meted justice?" He shrugged. "The law will not intervene unless the event is reported as something more than fair punishment. And no one in this pack will report it."

"I can report it. I can investigate it. And trust me, you would not want me or Rhoan anywhere near that pack. We're no longer the helpless cubs you booted out."

"And we are no longer the dying pack you remember. We've grown stronger, richer. More influential."

Yeah, and I knew exactly how. My ability to shadow had provided a means of learning more than a few pack secrets. And if the pack was now rich, it certainly hadn't been via hard work and good money management.

I shook my head. "You really have no idea who you're dealing with, Blake." No idea what he was dealing with.

"I want this problem dealt with. Then I will leave you, your half-breed brother, and your mother alone."

I shifted from one foot to the other, the need to run fighting with the need to wipe that cold look of satisfaction off his face. The twin desires made my muscles twitch. "And Ko

Blake's grin was gloating. "I defeated your grandfather in battle one year after you left. His ashes were scattered across his favorite hunting trail, as he requested."

I stared at him for a moment, not sure what to think. What to feel.

There'd been no love lost between our grandfather and us, and he'd turned his back on much of the trouble we'd had with Blake and his get. Yet he'd housed the three of us, fed us, made sure we never wanted for anything basic, and had never allowed the games to go too far—except for the one time Blake had thrown me off the mountain. And even then, his hands were tied. Pack rules gave the second-in-command the right to punish as he saw fit—at least when it came to matters of insubordination.

And now my grandfather was dead, killed in a battle for leadership. I closed my eyes, and tried to fight the bloody images that came to mind. I'd only ever seen one fight for dominance in a pack, and it hadn't been pretty. Such fights were always done in wolf form, and almost always ended in the death of the old leader. Such were the ways of our wild cousins, and they had always been ours, too.

And the law allowed it, because it came under the title of religious beliefs and customs.

Which was just another way of sanctifying murder, if you asked me. Unfortunately, no one was ever likely to do that.

"If you've got a list of names, send them to me tonight," I said. "I can check them against the island's records."

"I've already done that."

"And I intend to redo it, because I may see something that you missed." I crossed my arms and stared at his ethereal form. "I don't want you harassing my every step, Blake, or I will have the full force of the Directorate brought down on the pack's head."

"Patrin wants regular reports."

"I don't give a—"

He held up a hand. "Yeah, I know. Tough."

I glowered at him. He stared back. For several seconds neither of us moved, then he sighed and rubbed a hand across his eyes. "What is your phone number? I'll send you the list of names and whatever other information I have."

I gave him my cell phone number, and added, "Have you got any recent pictures of Adrie

"Yes. I'll send a couple."

At least with photos I could ask around, see if anyone remembered her. See if they remembered who she hooked up with. "What about the families of the other victims? Send me their contact details as well, if you have them."

"I will."

"Good. Now fuck off so I can sleep."

His smile was thin. "I will check in tomorrow night for a progress report."

"I wait with bated breath."

His body faded, dissolving into wisps of color that were whisked away by the freshening wind. I shivered and rubbed my arms, my gaze searching the trees to be sure—really sure—he was gone.

Then I turned around and made my way back to my villa. Once inside, I picked up the vid-phone and dialed my brother. It was the middle of the night and he'd more than likely be asleep, but I didn't care. I needed to talk to him.

The phone rang several times before the receiver was picked up and a sleepy voice said, "Hello?"

It wasn't Rhoan's voice, but Liander's. He didn't have the screen on, either—for which I should probably have been glad. Neither Liander nor Rhoan were pretty sights when woken in the wee hours of the morning.

"Hey, makeup man, how you doing?"

There was a long silence, then he said, in a voice that was a mix of tiredness and a

"Yep. I need to talk to Rhoan."

"He's under the weather."

"I don't care what he is or how he's feeling." The loving sister, that was me. "I need to talk to him."

Rhoan muttered something in the background. It didn't take a whole lot of imagination to guess what, but Liander told me anyway. "He's right. You can be a bitch at times."