Twilight Hunter

slender woman with manufactured globes attached to her chest danced on a pole in the center. She slapped her thigh and slid her ass up the metal rod as she gyrated to the music. Her bleached-blond hair flipped like she was riding a wild bronco. Jace couldn’t have been more turned off.

He scanned the room, his eyes moving from face to face. Goose bumps crawled up his skin, and the hair on the back of his neck stood on end. He didn’t need to be a hunter to know that he was in a room full of animals.

He followed Frankie farther into the club, with David hobbling behind them with his crutch. Jace’s eyes widened as they moved deeper into the room, taking them closer to the stripper. From near the door, the ceiling looked normal, but standing in the middle of the building, he stared up at tier upon tier of seats, every floor thumping to the same stupid dance music. Didn’t anyone listen to AC/DC anymore?

His attention snapped back into the here and now as Frankie came to a sudden halt. A muscled male werewolf was rushing toward her, talking at a hundred miles an hour. A low growl rumbled in Jace’s throat. David grabbed him by the back of his shirt and pulled him back until they were out of hearing distance, courtesy of the loud music.

“Stay cool,” David mumbled. “Do you want to get us kicked out?”

Jace whipped around and half snarled into David’s ear, “That’s her boyfriend.”

David raised a single brow. “Her boyfriend?”

Jace ground his teeth together, fighting back a serious bout of jealously. Why the hell did he care? He shouldn’t be so hung up on her.

“Jace—”

David and Jace’s conversation skidded to an abrupt halt at the sound of one loud, pissed-off female.

“No!” Frankie yelled. She ripped her wrist away from the newcomer. “You’re not my keeper, Alejandro. I’m your packmaster. Alpha or not, you don’t have any authority.” She started to march away from him but stopped mid-step. “Tell the DJ to turn off the music.”

The bastard didn’t move.

“Now,” she growled.

Without another word, she climbed onto the stripper’s platform. The stripper sauntered over to her and leaned forward, ready to play up some girl-on-girl action.

Frankie glared at her and crossed her arms over her chest. “Move.”

The music stopped, filling the club with an awkward silence. A male voice with a thick Spanish accent boomed through the room.

“At this time, we’d like to request that all non-pack members leave the building. That means everyone but the pack members. Thank you.”

A collective rustle spread through the club as a few people gravitated toward the exits. Jace’s ragged breath slowed to an even pace before David released him. He was thankful his friend was there to keep him in check. They couldn’t blow this.

Frankie stood on the platform with her hands on her hips, silently waiting for everyone’s attention. Standing there, she looked like an average, even-tempered woman. But Jace had seen the fire blazing behind her eyes firsthand—a fire that would never burn out.

A crowd gathered around them as people filtered down from the upper levels. When everyone fell silent, she held her head high and dropped her arms to her sides. “I’m calling you all in, because I’m asking for pack —”

Just then her bastard boyfriend pushed to the front of the crowd. “Where were you?” he demanded.

Muttering erupted across the club. Frankie’s hand clenched into a fist, and she raised her voice over everyone else’s. She had a set of pipes.

“Alejandro, Alpha male or not, you will shut your mouth, before I have someone shut it for you.”

“But—”

“Yeah, Frankie. Where were you?” someone called as murmurs of dissatisfaction filled the room.

“Quiet.” She raised her voice again, and a hush fell over the crowd again. “I was trying to stop the killer.”

Her boyfriend let out a deep roar. “You were what?” He stomped up onto the platform and started yelling right in her face. “You didn’t have pack approval. You could have been killed.”

“I don’t need pack approval, Alejandro. I’m packmaster. I’m exempt by royal bloodline. Now. Sit. Down.” She stared him straight in the eye, challenging him for dominance as their animal instincts bubbled to the surface.

He accepted her rule for the moment and finally glanced away. He stepped down from the platform, defeated and, at least in Jace’s opinion, humiliated. She’d put the jerk in his place.

“As you all know, we’ve been searching for weeks with no results, so I decided to go looking for him on my own, and I’ve finally tracked his scent.”

“Did you kill him?” one of the pack members yelled.

“No.” A look of major impatience crossed Frankie’s face. Apparently she didn’t like interruptions. “And we have a couple of new problems. He’s escalating. He’s started killing in pairs.”

Alejandro stepped forward, chest all puffed out and looking grim-faced, as if he were ready to give someone a good beat-down. “Then we need to catch him, before he catches any more innocent women.”

Words of agreement passed through the pack.

“It’s not that easy, Alejandro,” Frankie said. “He’s strong. Stronger than normal, and there’s something...wrong with him.”

Alejandro let out an angry grumble. “Of course there is something wrong with him—he’s a cold-blooded killer.”

Frankie ignored him. “He’s not a werewolf. At least not a normal one. I’ve never seen or heard of any werewolf like him.”

The room fell so silent that Jace could hear the light breathing of the individuals around him.

“We need someone who knows what they’re doing, so I’ve brought help. Hunters.” She gestured to Jace and David. All the eyes in the room turned toward them, and a surge of adrenaline rushed through Jace’s veins. Damn, did that put the pressure on or what?

A male werewolf stepped forward, his muscles flexing. “You brought hunters into our home?” He growled so low that the hairs on the back of Jace’s neck and arms stood on end. “I said from the very beginning that a bitch should never rule our pack.” He lunged toward Frankie.

Jace pulled his gun and fired into the air. The wolf stopped in his tracks a good three feet from Frankie. Jace stepped up onto the platform, holding his Mateba like it was an extension of his arm. “Yes, I’m a hunter, and I’m fully armed.”

He strode over to the edge of the platform and pointed the barrel straight at the jerk who’d come at Frankie, then asked, his voice laced with rage, “Does anyone have a problem with that?”

No one spoke, and the would-be attacker melted back into the crowd.

“Now, I believe your packmaster was speaking to you. So pay attention.”

Jace thumped David on the back as he returned to his spot among the onlookers.

Frankie glanced at Jace almost disbelievingly, then shook her head as her determination and resolve showed in her body language again. She straightened and held her head high.

“As I was saying, this might not be a normal werewolf or even a werewolf at all. We need experts to help us. These hunters are only interested in catching this killer. They’re not here to hurt us.”

A member of the crowd stepped to the edge of the platform. “What do we need their help for? What damage can they do with their silver weapons that we can’t with our canines?”

She gestured toward Jace with her free hand. David stepped aside.

“Jace is a half-breed. He’s not allergic to silver, and he has all the strength of any normal werewolf. The killer can also withstand silver, and gunshot wounds barely faze him. Jace is the only one who stands any chance against him.”

The boyfriend shook his head. “Then why the hell did you bring him here? If he’s the perfect man for the job, why bother to notify your pack, since apparently, you don’t need our approval to do anything?”

Frankie let out a feminine, but firm, growl. “You’re right. I don’t need your