Wanted: Undead or Alive

“She,” Brynley corrected him. “That’s a mare. And she’s probably nervous because she’s picking up your scent. It would be different from ours.”

“Right,” he grumbled. “Because I’m not one of you.”

She winced. So he had heard Trudy’s remark. “I’m afraid werewolves tend to be a bit clannish.”

“A bit?” he asked wryly.

She shrugged as she watched Trudy lead the mare and a gelding toward the barn. “We’ve learned over the centuries that it’s best to stick together. It’s basic self-preservation.”

“Why would a horse get upset over my scent?” Phineas asked. “Don’t you guys smell like a pack of wolves? How do you even keep horses and cows? It’s like a fox guarding the chicken coop. Seems like they’d get one sniff of you and run away.”

Brynley grinned. “My father’s been ranching for over a hundred years. The animals are used to our scent. Come on, help me get the hay into the barn.”

With Phineas’s superior vampire strength, he had no trouble transporting whole bales of hay to the barn. Brynley introduced him to Trudy, then brought her up-to-date on her son’s progress at school while Phineas finished moving the hay.

A Honda Civic pulled up next to the pickup truck, and Brynley and Trudy strode from the barn to greet the driver.

“Sherry!” Brynley hugged her. “Thank you for coming.”

“No problem.” Sherry handed her the car keys. “It’s all yours for a week. And the tank is full. How is Gavin doing?”

“He’s great.” Brynley retrieved the second envelope from her jacket pocket. “He wrote a letter for you.”

“Oh thank you!” Sherry grabbed the envelope. “I can’t thank you enough!”

“That goes for both of us,” Trudy said.

Sherry’s gaze shifted to Phineas as he emerged from the barn. “Is that young man staying here with you?”

“Young is right,” Trudy murmured. “I think he’s only about twenty-three.”

“Well.” Sherry’s mouth twitched as she regarded Brynley. “Are you a wolf or a cougar, girl?”

She gritted her teeth. As far as she was concerned, she didn’t look any older than Phineas. Sure, she was thirty, but as soon as werewolves reached maturity, their aging process slowed to a near halt. That was how they managed to live for five centuries.

And although Phineas had been transformed at a young age, that was a few years ago. They had to be fairly close to each other’s age now.

With a start, she realized she was mentally defending herself and Phineas as a couple. And they weren’t. They couldn’t be.

Sherry’s eyes widened as she caught Phineas’s scent. “He’s not one of us.”

“I know,” Brynley ground out.

“A shame,” Trudy said. “He’s incredibly strong. You should have seen him tossing around those bales of hay.”

“Hmm.” Sherry gave Brynley a pointed look. “Great stamina, too?”

“I wouldn’t know about that,” she muttered.

“Yet,” Sherry added, then she and Trudy snickered.

Brynley sighed. They thought Phineas was her mortal boy toy. A logical mistake, since werewolves tended to be highly sexual creatures. “This is a business trip.”

“Right,” Trudy murmured. “Because there’s so much business going on around here.”

Brynley glanced over at Phineas. He was standing by the barn, pretending not to listen, but there was a definite glint of amusement in his eyes.

She turned back to the women. “Thank you for helping us. And remember, you didn’t see us here.”

Sherry nodded. “I understand.”

“Ready to go?” Trudy asked her.

“Yep.” Sherry climbed into the passenger seat of the pickup, then Trudy drove off, pulling the empty horse trailer behind her.

“All right.” Brynley waved the car keys in her hand as Phineas approached. “We’ve got wheels.”

“And horse power.” Phineas glanced back at the barn, frowning.

“So what’s our first move?” Brynley asked.

“We track down the guy who was bitten.”

“I thought he didn’t remember much.”

Phineas shrugged. “I can use vampire mind control to take a look inside his head.”

Brynley grimaced. She hated the way vampires could manipulate people’s minds. “Bloodsucker.”

The corner of his mouth curled up. “Snout-Face.”

Chapter Seven

Phineas frowned as he slipped a knife into the sheath he’d attached around his calf so that it nestled just inside his cowboy boot. He’d made one simple decision, that they would teleport to the medical clinic, and Brynley had gone ballistic.

He recalled the way she’d reacted when he’d teleported behind her. She’d yelled at him then, and now she was shouting again. Were all werewolves this high-strung? She was behaving like one of those overbred, expensive little dogs that yapped all the time. He couldn’t recall Phil ever acting like this. Apparently, the little princess was used to always getting her way.

“I can’t believe this!” She glared at him, her hands on her hips. “I go to all this trouble to make sure you have a car, and you don’t even want to use it?”

He tugged his pants leg down and straightened. “I explained why—”

“You don’t appreciate what I’ve done. Or the trouble those ladies went to.”

“I do—”

“Then let’s drive the damned car!”

Yap, yap, yap. Would he have to put a muzzle on her? “Brynley—”

“Don’t you understand? I want to be more than just a babysitter for you when you’re dead. I want to help you when you’re awake.”

That gave him pause. It didn’t sound like something a spoiled princess would say. He dragged a hand over his short hair, wishing he could figure her out. “You are helping. I’m really glad we have the car. At some point, we’ll need it.” He wasn’t so sure about the damned horses, though. “I thought it was very clever, the way you arranged it all.”

She scowled at him. “Now you’re just being condescending.”

Damn, she was touchy. “I mean it. I think you’re very clever. And brave. You and your friends have got this whole underground female liberation thing going on. And you’re the leader. It’s radical. Rebellious. Totally cool.”

Her cheeks turned pink. “It’s . . . no big deal.”

“It is big. And it’s gutsy. I like it.”

She looked away and waved a dismissive hand. “Someone had to help the Lost Boys.”

Phineas blinked when it finally clicked. She had trouble accepting a compliment. And that seemed really strange. A princess should be used to flattery, but obviously, Brynley wasn’t.

What if he’d misinterpreted other things about her? He’d always thought her anger stemmed from being a spoiled princess who would throw a temper tantrum if she wasn’t getting her way. But what if she was angry because she never got her way? What if her prickly nature was due to a lifetime of criticism rather than compliments?

It was a bizarre theory, so he needed to put it to the test one more time. “You know, your brother’s really proud of you. Brags about you all the time.”