apologize. But you just don’t say sorry to a soaking wet, angry werewolf. I gave her a hard stare and groped for my sword under the bar.
She grabbed the bottle, shook it hard, and blasted me with cold, wet spray. Sputtering, I snatched the bottle and emptied it over her head.
A roar went up. Werewolves rushed at me from all sides—running, vaulting over the bar. I went down. What a ridiculous way to die, I thought. Stomped to death by two dozen tipsy werewolves in stilettos.
A French-manicured hand reached toward me. I looked up. The bride, still dripping, smiled at me. What the hell? I grabbed her hand, and she pulled me to my feet. She offered me an open bottle of champagne.
The werewolves had raided the fridge behind the bar. Throughout the room, they sprayed each other with champagne. The poor dancers seemed to be getting more than their share. The wet look suited them, I had to say.
I shook the bottle and sprayed the bride, who laughed with delight.
Someone started the music, and the dancers resumed their gyrations. Drops of champagne flew from their bodies, catching the light. The werewolves started dancing, too, pushing aside tables to clear the floor.
The fridge stood open, empty. I shut the door. Then I found a recycling bin and started picking up the champagne bottles that littered the room.
“Don’t do that.” The bride put a hand on my arm, but her touch was tentative, not aggressive. “Please. My girls will take care of it.” She cupped her hands and shouted over the music. “Listen up, ladies! Everyone pick up two bottles and put them in the bin.” She sat me down in her former seat, telling me to relax, and went behind the bar to find more recycling bins.
“Thanks.” A werewolf with chin-length black hair sat down across from me. “You saved the party.”
“You’re welcome.” I tried to look as though I knew exactly what I’d done, then gave up. “Um, how?”
“Ever since her engagement, Kiana has been a total bridezilla. Her mother stopped speaking to her weeks ago. She reduced her dressmaker to tears. She actually bit the caterer—the poor guy needed stitches.” She shook her head. “The trouble is, she’s not really all that dominant. Not by nature. It was stressing her out to be such a bitch.”
Ah. The picture was becoming clearer.
“Somebody needed to challenge her. But you just don’t
“So a challenge from me released the tension.”
“Exactly.” She grinned, showing white, even teeth. “And you did it without spilling a drop of blood. Brilliant.”
“Yeah, it always kinda sucks when a bachelorette party turns into a bloodbath.”
The werewolf grinned again. “Now Kiana can relax and be herself. She’ll still have some fights to face a couple of full moons down the road, but a lot of us will let our grudges slide. We’ve got our friend back.” She got up and danced her way into the middle of the room.
TEN MINUTES LATER, AXEL RETURNED. HE STOPPED AND stared at me, sitting at the bride’s table, wearing her tiara, and holding a bottle of my favorite lite beer, paid for by the bride. He turned to the bar, where Kiana was mixing a cocktail for one of her friends. “The champagne I paid for ran out, so it’s a cash bar now,” she called.
Axel turned back to me and raised a shaggy eyebrow.
“She said she was a bartender in college. I’ve been watching. She’s charging for the drinks.”
He sat down across from me. His eyebrow seemed to have found a permanent home halfway up his forehead.
“I, um, beat her in a challenge. Accidentally, kind of. There was no fighting involved,” I added quickly. “Just champagne.”
Axel surveyed the room. The place stank of spilled champagne, but there was no broken furniture or bleeding patrons. Better than a typical night.
“How’s Juliet?” I asked.
“Safe.” He placed the silver shackle and chain on the table. A nearby werewolf glanced at it, shuddered, and moved away. “She said you’d need this.”
“Can I see her?”
He shook his head. “She’s resting.”
Shit. Axel wasn’t going to let me into his apartment. As Juliet had said earlier, he never let anyone in. He was bending his usual rule to protect her, but his hospitality wouldn’t extend to me. I’d just locked Juliet away even farther out of reach than she’d been with the Goon Squad.
And I still didn’t have any answers.
“Axel—”
He shook his head, and I knew there was no use arguing.
“Okay, then tell her to call me as soon as she’s feeling better, okay? Tomorrow, no later. I really need to talk to her. Can you do that?”
This time I got a nod.
I removed the bride’s tiara and set it on the table, then stood. “Keep me posted about how she’s doing, will you? I’m worried about her leg. And thanks. I know you . . . um, value your privacy. I’ll try to move her to somewhere else that’s safe as soon as I can.”
I wrapped the chain around my waist, picked up my purse, and moved toward the door.
Axel’s big paw shot out and grabbed my arm. “Come back after sunrise.”
I nodded. I didn’t know whether he’d let me see Juliet or whether he merely expected me to help clean up after these rowdy werewolves. Either way, I’d be here. Axel was good people—whatever species he was.
7
WHEN I OPENED THE DOOR TO HIS APARTMENT, KANE looked up from his laptop screen. He sat on the sofa, feet on the coffee table, papers spread all around him. He’d rolled up his sleeves, removed his tie, and even undone the top buttons of his shirt.
But the alarm that leapt into his eyes reminded me I was the polar opposite of sexy right now.
“My God, Vicky. What happened?” He was up in a second, his strong arms around me, pulling me close.
“Careful. Silver,” I said, stepping back and unwrapping the chain from my waist. I coiled it and added it to the arsenal in my purse. I leaned the Old One’s short sword against the wall.
He sniffed. “Are you . . .” Another sniff, his nostrils flaring wide. “ Are you
“Of course not.” He knew how little I drank. “I got caught in a little champagne fight at Creature Comforts.”
“Creature Comforts? I thought you were going to see Juliet.”
“I did.”
Kane scowled, staring at my waist. “And that belt you were wearing looked an awful lot like a silver shackle. The kind they use to restrain vampires.”
“Um. There’s a reason for that.”
Kane closed his eyes and shook his head as if clearing it. “Tell me what happened. Start from the beginning.”
“Better sit down.”
“How did I know you were going to say that?” He groped backward to find the sofa and sat on its arm. His eyes took inventory of my appearance. “You’ve got blood on your cheek.”
Oh. That was from fighting the Old Ones. I suddenly realized how long it had been since I’d looked in a mirror—and wasn’t sure I wanted to, ever again.
