Chapter 9

T he heart-racing beat thrummed through La Luna as all sorts of creatures found pleasure in song, dance, and liquor—perhaps in each other too. A hazy smoke passed through sparkling, coloured lights as it washed away the crowd's troubles, adding a layer of mystery and privacy to the tavern. Bodies moved, writhed, and pulsed to the music as drinks were downed, and laughter could be heard as a second harmony to the music.

It was home. And she was glad to be back from the hunt in one piece. She had known about the hunt tonight because of Roman, and only Roman knew of her escapade in the Ashdale Forest to join them. Waylen didn't know, which was why she'd had to remain in the shadows. But La Luna was packed tonight, and it was time to get to work.

This tavern was her favourite place to be. Lately, she would rather work until exhaustion claimed her than listen to the silence in her own head. Ever since losing Eli in the battle of the blood moon, it seemed too quiet around her cottage, a little lacklustre. But here? There wasn't room for silence or anything dull. That was the good thing about a crowded tavern —no one seemed to be missing, sad, or gone forever. Most people in here meant nothing to each other but a good time and fond memories. La Luna represented the present, not the past. Everyone lived in the moment.

It had been a while since she'd gotten to fight the Dark Army, and every demon she got to slay with her own fangs was another point to the Baxgroll pack for every life they'd claimed of her blood. When she had heard a girl scream in the forest, she had assumed that a villager was being attacked. She'd been shocked to find it was no ordinary girl, but the Empress of Air.

They had hung out a few times. Emara came here when her world got too much and she wanted to let her hair down. She felt comfortable around the wolves, and she should, because they would always have her back after what she'd done for her brother in his last moments. The Baxgroll pack would always be fond of Emara Clearwater for taking Eli's pain before he passed.

And Breighly had been at the Tower when Emara had unexpectedly wanted advice on how to deal with men in politics and the newest fashions.

She liked the empress, respected her. She was a breath of fresh air in a stuffy world full of traditions.

As Breighly stood behind the bar, a dark-haired gentleman in a black velour suit moved, sleek and smooth, towards her. His skin was deathly white and his eyes looked like stars had congregated to form a new galaxy. His lips pulled into a cruel smile that rendered him dark and dangerous, and it accentuated his jawline that could cut through marble. Even though the magic of her blood ignited to tell her that he was threatening and savage, his charismatic charm pulled her in and lured her to watch him.

Vampire.

He placed his elbow on the bar and his enticing eyes wandered around the bottles displayed behind her. She could tell by the power radiating from him that he was a very old vampire despite looking to be her age. It seemed he was an extremely rich vampire, too, given the way he dressed. There was no weapon belt around his waist, nor was anything malfitting on his form. He was immaculate.

"I will take a glass of red, please," he said, finally pinning her where she stood with his black irises sparkling.

Foe or not, he was strikingly handsome. An animal dressed as a gentleman; a dangerous predator with a smile so wicked it could stop hearts.

Exactly her type.

Breighly leaned forward, making sure her neck was on show. She had just escaped danger tonight, but she was happy to find herself dancing on the edge of it again. "Are you looking for fresh red or bottled?"

A dangerous glint made his eyes a little darker. "You serve fresh?"

Breighly combed her hair to one side, exposing even more of her skin to him. She was a natural at flirting, and she didn't even want to consider where that trait came from. "At La Luna, we cater for all of the Gods' creatures."

The vampire's alluring face was so inviting yet so very feral, and as he smiled a true grin, his long fangs glistened under the lights and rested on his full lips. "I am ecstatic to hear that." His melodic voice drifted over the bar like a hand stroking her face, and the animal in her purred.

The wolf was awake. And heated.

Breighly smiled back. "I am happy to help."

She liked this guy. even though he was a vampire. Fuck it. She didn't care if they kept themselves to themselves and everyone knew little about them. It didn't matter that the prime were reluctant to involve themselves with this faction, shunning one of Vanadey's creatures.

He was cool, calm, and collected. He was mature—he probably was eight hundred years old—but he had a sophistication about him that a wolf didn't normally have.

Neither did hunters.

"On ice or heated?" she said, dropping her voice low, knowing he would hear the change over the music with his talented ears.

He leaned in a little closer as a corner of his mouth turned up. "Body temperature."

She laughed out loud.

She was a sucker for a funny guy.

No pun intended.

But she needed something tonight—a distraction. It had been a while. What was a lot of fun and a little danger mixed into one evening?

A fucking good time, that's what.

She leaned in too. "If you go out the back exit and wait"—she bit into her lip seductively—"I would be happy for you to take a sip of my room temperature."

"Even though you are a wolf?" His brow danced up.

Breighly had heard sex with a vampire was incredible, and the bite a rush of pure stardust. Exhilaration. She didn't care if prime law thought it immoral.

"I have no mate, and I am not spoken for," she reassured him. "You won't have any trouble from the wolves in here. I run this place."

The vampire took a step back from the bar, a keen smile on his lips, before getting lost in the crowd.

"Hey, Jett," she shouted over the crowd, signalling to one of the wolves who was standing guard of the door. If anyone caused a scene, Jett was one of their biggest wolves and he'd sort them right out. "Cover for me; I will be back soon. I have an errand to run. If my brothers come looking for me, I have a meeting with a syrup supplier."

Jett's black curls made their way through the crowd, and he leapt over the bar.

She rolled her eyes. "Did you really have to do that?"

He smiled a boyish grin. "Of course. I will keep guard of your castle until you're back, princess."

"Thank you." She kissed him on the cheek. "You are my knight in shining armour."

He laughed, his amber eyes shining like two coins. "I don't think you will ever have a knight in shining armour, Bry."

She laughed back at him, looking over her shoulder as she moved from the bar. "You know me so well."

Before taking the back exit into the alley, Breighly made sure her lips were painted dark pink and her neckline was more plunging than before. Pulling open the door, she felt the hot thickness of the air smack her face and she pulled in a husky breath. It was already hot in La Luna, but by the Gods, it needed to thunder over Huntswood and break this air. It was unbearable, and it had been building for weeks. When she was in wolf form earlier, she couldn't wait to get out of her fur, and that wasn't like her. She loved the summer solstice, but the temperature could ease up just a little.

Taking a few steps out into the night to look for lover vampire, Breighly halted when she heard the sounds of a heated argument and a possible struggle. Her feet pounded the dirt track of the market alley until she reached where they kept the empty bottles and trash.

Artem Stryker stood against the backdrop of the market tents, every pound of sheer muscle tense, threatening. He had his large hand around a blade that was directly pointed at the vampire's throat. His gold-flecked gaze met hers, and for a second, a crackling in her heart sent butterflies into her stomach. But she grabbed control of herself before she let anyone see her surprise. Before she could go spiralling down that road where thoughts often led to him.

"Oh, there she is." His stupid, upbeat, sarcastic voice knocked the air from her lungs, and as he turned to face her directly, she could see all of the smug grin that was pulling at his mouth.

"What the fuck do you think you are doing?" she asked in a higher pitch than what she would have liked. The vampire watched her from behind the blade that was still pointed at his throat, his teeth bared. "Put that weapon down. Now! Artem, now!"

"Indeed, I will not." Artem lifted a perfect brow. "This creature said he was waiting here for you." His eyes glittered as he watched her. "This vamp"—he pointed the silver blade closer to the vampire's neck, and he hissed.—"claims that he is waiting here to drink from you."

How dare this big fucker just show up here, waving blades at her new friend? Silver blades could seriously harm a vampire. Who did he think he was? Her boyfriend?

Breighly held her chin up. "His claims are correct. You can put down your blade."

"What?" It was then that Artem lowered his blade, his eyes narrow. "You were going to let him drink from you?" The warrior's voice was low and rough, and it stirred that wolf inside her to life in a different way.

"You heard me." She squinted at him. "I can let him drink from anywhere I want."

It had been a while since they had been together, almost a whole moon cycle since the last moment of weakness that she'd had with Artem Stryker. Sometimes he just appeared randomly, or if they saw each other at an event, it always led to them taking off their clothes and getting lost in each other. It was always feral, and pure need. Sort of magnetic.

But it wasn't going to happen this time. It was never going to happen again. After the last time, they had sworn to each other after three rounds of blissful, passionate fucking that they were drawing a line in the sand.

It was for the best.

She didn't need any more mess. Her life was a mess.

Fuck, she barely even liked him. He was smug and prideful and always the one to say the wrong thing. Plus, he was the chief commander's son, second-in-command of his stupid clan, which meant he soon had to find a nice witch to make more stupid hunters with.

But damn, was he not as handsome as Thorin himself—if the God had a nose ring and was covered head to toe in ink. Standing in the alleyway covered in blood from the hunt, he looked murderous. Ugh, why did that give her forbidden tingles?

She had smelt his scent coming after she had helped Emara kill the demon, and to avoid her hands finding themselves in his leathers, Breighly had avoided him.

So why was it that he'd ended up here? He lowered the weapon and stalked towards her in his black hunting gear as violence streaked through his eyes. Although you couldn't normally wipe the stupid grin off his face, he did take his oath seriously, and there was no mistake about that when you saw him in action. The vampire took a breath, still reeling from his encounter with Artem, but his eyes found Breighly, probably for some sort of explanation. She had promised him no trouble, after all.

Artem's lips parted as he came to a halt. "Oh, I know you can do what you want, princess, but if you wanted someone to bite you, all you had to do was ask. You don't need a vampire when you have me."

What an arrogant son of a bitch.

"Are you here for a reason, Stryker? Or are you just a fan of hanging around my garbage?" She looked down at her nails, giving him the impression that she was unfazed.

He sniggered. "Had I not been hanging around your garbage, lover boy here would have had you as a midnight snack." He pointed the lethal blade back at the vampire. "I can't let that happen, can I?"

"I swear to the Gods," the vampire said with a little frustration, "I am not conducting anything illegal. You are out of line, hunter."

Artem turned, his teeth bared. "And what god is it exactly that you swear on, vampire?"

The vampire curled his lip over his teeth, exposing those deadly fangs. "I am over five hundred years old and I have never let a hunter talk down to me just because they have a direct god to worship. I have worshipped the Light Gods for my entire existence, and I'm older than that metal you point at my face like I am your enemy."

Feeling the tension rise, Breighly took a few steps closer to them.

"Anyone that drinks the blood of women is my enemy." Artem squared up to him. "No Light God wants that for their kingdom. You know the boundaries set by the prime."

"I drink men who are willing too," his articulate tongue hissed. "I don't discriminate."

"I am sure you don't, night stalker," Artem barked.

"It is not illegal if I have their consent and you know it." The vampire moved forward as if to strike, and Artem moved into a battle stance. "You cannot bend the rules to suit yourself. I may not be bound to a clan or a member of a Fae court, but that doesn't mean I do not worship your gods."

"That doesn't mean I don't find it revolting," Artem spat, bringing out another weapon—a silver stake. "You are just a cut above a demon. I am sure Vanadey's skin crawled when she made you by accident."

"Hunters…" The vampire spat as he squared up to him, going nose to nose. "Always thinking they are the fucking Gods themselves."

"Enough! Enough!" Breighly roared, finally getting in between them and pulling them apart. She imagined it would be easier to split two mountains. "Not outside my bar. Not here. This is my business." She looked at the vampire, who was still looking like he could rip out Artem's throat with his fangs. "I am really sorry, and it kills me to say this, but you need to leave," she said to the creature of night. As she looked at Artem's smug face, a vessel almost popped in her neck. "And you," she roared at him. "You too. Did you think I was keeping you?"

It was then his eyes dragged from the vampire's face to hers. "Unfortunately, I am here on official business. I require a moment with you, alone."

The vampire finally pulled back, straightening out his expensive jacket that probably cost more than her bar. "I am sorry to have caused you any trouble here. Maybe I will come back some other time."

Before Breighly could agree, Artem jumped in, "And maybe I will still be here, lurking in the garbage."

Breighly turned to face Artem. "Do you realise how creepy that sounds?"

"Yeah, and I hope that he has nightmares of my creepy face, lurking in your garbage."

"You are fucking insane," she said through her teeth. "Do you realise how much I wanna punch you right now?"

"Do you realise how much I would like that?" Artem's eyebrows rose like he was now interested in where the conversation was going.

"You are ill."

"And you like my kinks."

That was true no matter how much she tried to fight it.

"I am going to take my leave," a voice said from beside her, but she couldn't pull her gaze from the hunter. "Will you be all right with this brute?"

She nodded.

The vampire speedily disappeared into the shadows.

After she'd growled at him for a few seconds, she asked, "Artem, what the fuck was that?"

"What?" he asked as he placed his weapons back on his belt.

"Showing up here and going all hunter crazy on my new boyfriend."

"He…is not your new boyfriend." He placed his large hands on his hips. "I would know if you had a boyfriend. You've already played this trick on me."

Oh shit, she had forgotten about that.

"If I wanted him as my boyfriend, I could have him." She pursed her lips.

"You could have anyone you wanted." His golden eyes softened to a warm liquid, and his hard features relaxed.

He was the kind of handsome that made your heart swim up your throat and your lungs punch into your chest.

He was the summer rain she so desperately needed right now.

Her heart stuttered, and she took a breath in.

"I am not doing this shit with you." She turned before she could feel anything else and began running from what made her coldness melt. This wasn't good for her.

"Wait, stop," he commanded from behind her.

"Fuck off, Artem." She flipped him off.

Before she knew it, his massive form was in front of her.

Well, she did have heels on. That was the only explanation for him being quicker.

"You need to hear me out," he said, all jests gone from his face.

She halted with a sigh. "What part of off you fuck does your brain does not comprehend?"

He fought a small smile before collecting himself. "I am here on official business for the Empress of Air."

She straightened.

"Emara?"

He nodded.

"But I just saw her."

"Well maybe if you hadn't been avoiding me, she could have told you the news herself."

Breighly swallowed down a smile as she bit her lip. Maybe she wasn't as sneaky as she thought. "She could have sent whatever she needed to me by fireletter. That's what she normally does. Are you just making up excuses to see me now?"

He grinned a little. "She didn't want to write to you, not for this." His eyes dazzled in amusement.

Why would Emara not want to fireletter her?

"I am listening." She folded her arms across her chest. "You have one minute to impress me before I shove my foot into your favourite area."

"Your mouth?" His cheeky smile rode across his face like a wave.

She bit back a laugh. "Shut up. What is this official business, then?"

He crossed his arms too. "Excuse me, but I have had less than a minute to impress you before and succeed." His nostrils flared as he grinned, and his tiny silver nose ring glinted under the moonlight. He quickly placed his hands over his crotch, knowing she was three seconds away from kicking him.

"And that lasted thirty seconds until I was disappointed again. So you better be quick…like you always are." She winked.

"So cruel." Finally, Artem's expression turned serious. "Emara wants you to be at the prime meeting tomorrow."

Air whooshed from her lungs.

Breighly, for once, was stunned. "But why? I want to avoid those meetings where I can."

"Maybe she is looking out for her favourite guard and letting him bring a date to the summit."

Breighly rolled her eyes so hard it hurt her skull. "Artem, you know I can break bones really easily. Why do you test my restraint? We all know it's already weak."

He laughed his barking chuckle before he settled back down for business. "The air witch has her reasons for why she wants you there."

"I want you to tell me why." Worry curled in her stomach. "You have that weird glint in your eye like you know something that I don't, and it is making me want to kick in your balls."

"Because the Empress of Air has been thinking of ways she can change the world, as usual." Artem's brow rose, and his fondness for the empress shone bright in his eyes. "She is making big moves tomorrow, and I think you will want to see this."

Breighly shifted her weight in her heels and searched his face for answers. "Why? Am I in trouble? Did I do something wrong?"

He considered something before he spoke. "The fact that you have to ask that probably alludes to the fact that you have done something illegal. But no. It's not because you have done something wrong. It's because she is going to campaign to the prime for you to be her official third guard." He began to move, but before he left, he threw her a look over his shoulder. "If she's successful tomorrow, you are going to be the first female guard in the history of the kingdom, should you want it. Why would you want to miss history being made?"

Breighly Baxgroll had never been stunned speechless, but she was now. And as she watched Artem Stryker walk away, she couldn't help but feel a shit-eating grin flex in her jaw.