“Damned straight,” she shot back, lingering anger making her surly. I trusted you. I cried on you, and you locked me up again.
“Are you sure you’re all right?” the voice yelled again, but this time there was amusement in the tone.
“Yes!” Lore snapped.
“Oookaaayy, I’ll take your word for it.” The voice dissolved into a chuckle. “Next time try a dating service. It’s safer.”
Talia’s cheeks burned with outrage. What the hell?
With a grumpy expression, Lore made a gesture and said something under his breath. The crackle of electricity stopped. The spell or ward or whatever it was fell away.
Lore stood aside. “You can put the bat down. You’re free to go, if that’s what you want.”
“Seriously?”
His dark eyes flicked away, as if he was embarrassed. “You’re innocent.”
Talia dropped the bat and hurriedly pulled her boots back on while he stood watching like a grim sentinel. Relief warred with awkwardness. She’d been psyched up for a good ass-kicking, and now nothing. She was mentally stumbling, all revved up with nowhere to go.
How does he know I’m innocent? Did it matter? She pushed past his solid bulk, suddenly feeling like the bedroom walls were closing in. He could change his mind. This whole thing might be a trick.
An urge to run warred with curiosity. What had Lore found out?
Talia nearly collided with a woman taking off a gorgeous black-and-white tweed coat. The woman looked up, and that made Talia slow for a microsecond. Werecougar , she thought instantly, looking at the bone structure of her face. The creatures were rarely seen south of the Yukon, but they were unforgettable. Her skin was the dusky tone of cafe au lait, her posture that of a runway model.
“Nice coat,” Talia said, not sure what to do next. Instinct said to dive for the door, but she was curious. Who was this? Why was she here?
“It’s a Burberry,” the cougar returned, and Talia recognized the smooth voice.
“You’re Errata Jones!” Talia looked from Errata to Lore.
“And you’re Talia Rostova.” Errata hooked the Burberry on a coat tree that was crammed with wet outerwear. Lore had several guests. Of course he did—whoever had been teasing him before was male.
These strangers know who I am! Talia realized with shock. So much for keeping me safe!
“Don’t look so worried.” Errata fixed Talia with intense hazel eyes. “Lore knows what he’s doing.”
I’ll bet! Talia rounded on him, but something stopped her before she could vent her feelings. He looked exhausted and unhappy and more than a little apologetic. The urge to scream at him withered as it reached her throat.
Oh, God, it’s the puppy-dog eyes. Or Stockholm syndrome.
Errata leaned close, murmuring into Talia’s ear, “He likes you, you know. I can tell.”
Talia stared at her, both curious and aghast. Lore was narrowing his eyes at them both.
A sly smile played on Errata’s mouth. “Loyalty. Agility. You could do worse than a guy who can catch a Frisbee in his teeth. Just think what else he can do without using his hands.” The werecougar shrugged, keeping her voice so quiet only Talia could hear her. “Not that he doesn’t need work but, hey, he comes when he’s called.”
Talia stepped back, stunned by an irrational urge to defend Lore. She drew a breath to protest, but then the most gorgeous guy she’d ever seen emerged from the kitchen holding a plastic bag of blood.
The man held up the bag, pointing to the tiny writing stamped on the bag. He looked from Lore to Errata. “Did you look at the expiry date on this? You could kill somebody with this stuff.”
Errata gave a delicate snort. “Oh, come on, Joe. You’re three parts vampire and one part hellbeast. It’s going to take more than funky blood to do you in.”
Talia stiffened, her Hunter sense on alert. This guy was a volkodlak, Turned by a curse that made him immortal and very hard to kill.
“This is Joe,” Lore said, sounding irritable. “Ignore him.”
In response, Joe gave her a smile that did funny things to her stomach. He was too pretty for words—a dimpled chin, blade-straight nose, cheekbones sharp enough to cut diamonds. There were no fangs to spoil the sensual curve of his lips—she knew those only came out for feeding.
Talia gave herself a mental shake, woozy from too much hot guy. She had to say something to break through his charm, so she focused on the blood. “I wouldn’t drink that, if I were you. It tastes like a garburator bled to death.”
With a sigh, Joe vanished back into the kitchen. She heard a thwack as he dumped the bag in the sink. “Then let’s get this show on the road. I have to take over the bar at nine thirty.”
“You’re a bartender?” she asked in surprise.
“Bar owner.” He gave her another smile that should have carried a warning from the surgeon general. “I own the Empire Hotel.”
Oh, God. This guy was in the hospitality industry? His species were ravening killers—weren’t they?
Lore gave Joe a grumpy look. “Time to sit down.”
Joe winked at Talia and headed for the living room, following Errata. Lore put a hand on the small of Talia’s back, guiding her. Still annoyed at being locked up, she pulled away.
He dropped his hand, but leaned over to whisper, “I get it. You can look after yourself.”
Talia was about to deliver a scathing retort—she’d think of one any second now—when she realized there was another person in the living room. He was watching the news on the TV without the sound, and clicked it off as they walked in. He was handsome in a boyish way, brown-haired and green-eyed.
Talia experienced a shock of recognition. “I know you. You work at the university.”
He offered a hand. “Perry Baker. Comp Sci.”
She took it. He had a nice handshake, firm but not a bone-crusher. Warm, but with a different energy than Lore’s touch. Werewolf.
“Talia Rostova. English Lit. Distance Ed, mostly.”
“Perhaps we met at a faculty party?”
“No. It was the day they had all the nonhuman faculty in for orientation.”
He rolled his eyes. “Oh, right. The don’t-eat-thestudents speech.”
Perry laughed, but it had a nervous edge. She was glad he was there. Werewolf or not, another professor represented something from the university, the one place she had a right to belong.
Talia took a quick scan of the room. The view was nearly the same as from her living room, though several floors down. The main difference was the big, comfortable furniture that marked it as a man’s domain. No bobblehead poodle dogs here. Just a hellhound, a werewolf, and a vampire/werebeast cross. Oh, and a werecougar. What is this? Wild Kingdom?
By now everyone else was sitting: Joe and Errata on the couch, Lore in an armchair, and Perry on the rug in front of the fire. It was a subtle demonstration of the social position of the three males. Lore had a chair to himself, Perry had none—but he didn’t seem worried about it. They’d tactfully left an armchair for her.
An instant of fright passed through her. She wasn’t used to dealing with so many new people anymore. On the run, she’d learned to isolate herself. Instinct made an outcast cautious—the straggler from the herd was vulnerable—and here she was faced with a roomful of lions and wolves.
Taking a breath, she sat and got straight to the point. “So what’s up? How come you think I’m innocent all of a sudden?”
Perry spoke up. “First, you didn’t actually have time to kill your cousin, hide the murder weapon, and change into clothes that weren’t covered in blood.”
Talia gave him a startled look. “How do you know that?”
“I hacked into the traffic cameras. You drove home minutes before Lore found you.” The werewolf gave a self-satisfied smile. “Yes, I’m that good.”
Sudden relief flooded her. Someone believes me. It wasn’t the answer to all her problems, but it mattered. It meant that she wasn’t absolutely alone as she had been a moment ago.
Perry’s eyes turned serious. “I also don’t think you’re a necromancer.”
All heads were turned to the werewolf, intent in a manner that was decidedly not human.
