2. Orion

Mate.

Adrenaline rushed through me as Brielle lifted her eyes to mine. My wolf froze under the first stroke of those baby blues.

Shock hit us hard. Awe followed right on its heels.

Pure fucking need swept away both.

"Ah, my favorite glorified chauffeur!"

I barely registered Max's retort. The memory of my night with Brielle burned too bright—her soft curves pressed against me, her nails raking down my back as I buried myself deep inside her tight heat. The scent of her, sweet like lilac with a tinge of peppermint, seared into my mind.

My wolf surged forward, a rumbling growl echoing in my chest. I drank in every detail, from the delicate flush spreading across her cheeks to the way her lips parted ever so slightly. I wanted nothing more than to spin her around and drop to my knees for a closer inspection of the illegal ways her ass filled out her jeans.

Mate.

"Bri," I rasped, my voice thick. I took a step forward as I let my eyes roam shamelessly over her petite frame. "Didn't expect to see you here."

Her throat worked in a swallow, those kissable lips curving into a nervous smile. "Orion. Hey."

The sweet lilt of her voice had my cock stirring, demanding I yank her against me and reacquaint myself with every luscious inch. But a flicker of uncertainty kept me locked in place.

I sniffed. Delicately. An inhale, really.

Under the lilac and mint, under the sour beer and fur of the bar, pain.

Cassidy cleared her throat, the sound grating against my singular focus. "You two know each other?"

Reluctantly, I tore my gaze from Brielle, the ache in my chest sharpening as she scurried into the booth and made eyes at her beer. My wolf howled at me to go to her, to nuzzle the crook of her neck until she whimpered and writhed against me, begging for my fangs to sink into her soft skin. To claim what was mine, what I'd been denied when I woke to an empty bed.

But duty called with an overhead wave from the other side of the bar.

"You could say that." The gruff response scratched out of my throat as I shifted my weight, fighting against the instinct to reach for Brielle. "We, uh?—"

"We met outside the bakery. You remember, don't you, Cass?" Brielle piped up, but the pleasant expression didn't match her scent. Nerves I wanted to soothe, threads of arousal I wanted to tease out. "Emergency cake orders and saving the day?"

Then I'd crashed the wedding because why the fuck not? The bride—a sister, I think—hadn't noticed with the eleventy billion other rich fucks schmoozing around. Normally, I'd have been all too willing to cause a scene, but I had my eye on an even better prize.

"You joining us?" Max's face pinched infinitesimally, his posture going rigid. The undercurrent of possession had my wolf bristling, hackles rising as I met his stare. He might be part of the Crescent Hollow pack, but this was my territory.

My mate, even if she didn't know it yet.

Mine.

From the corner of my eye, I caught sight of Willow pushing to her feet. Both hands went over her head in a gigantic wave that might as well been signaling to a search-and-rescue chopper.

Irritation yanked on my inner beast's tail. Duty called with every pump of Willow's arms. We did this monthly, though by this point it was just me and her. Ever since my pack found one of ours brutally murdered for sport, I'd made it my personal mission to track down Fiona's killers.

In the year since, the Crescent Hollow pack turned their attention to this necessity, and that emergency. Dusk Valley didn't have the numbers of Crescent Hollow, but held out a little longer. Not by much, but some.

I couldn't give up. Not yet. Not until the last one begged the way Fi begged in my nightmares.

Brielle's presence was an unexpected complication, a ripple of distraction that had my wolf growling for her attention and answers. Cassidy insisted—insisted—her cousins had been ignorant of that bastard Barrett's schemes, but Max had been the only one willing to vouch for them.

All the more reason to get Brielle alone for some very thorough stripping of her secrets.

"I'd love to, Maxipad." I threw on my best smile and gave Max the salacious wink I wanted to land on Brielle. "But some of us work for a living."

"Couldn't be you," Max muttered into his beer, lips twitching at the corners. "Driving around all day and hoping to prey on some poor fuck's misery isn't what I'd count as work."

"Nah, but I wouldn't dare tell Cass what you're up to when I tow the shitheaps to your shop." Cassidy turned to Max with her eyebrows crawling toward her hairline. I chuckled and spread my hands wide. "Wouldn't dream of mentioning the stacks of takeout boxes from Pie Hard. You wouldn't be betraying your lady love with sweet treats from down the street, would you?"

Max met Cassidy's look with wide, panicked eyes as I turned away. "Cass, c'mon. You can't be upset about that. Wildflower doesn't have the same menu!"

I snorted and wove through the crowd, Willow's frantic gesturing guiding me toward an empty side table.

"Took you long enough," she grumbled, eyes narrowing as I slid into the chair across from her. A loose strand of her raven hair had escaped her messy bun, falling across her flushed cheek.

My wolf snarled, hackles raised at being forced to leave our mate's side just to deal with the witch's attitude. Duty, I reminded myself.

"What did you find?" I asked.

No one else wanted this job. I didn't even want Fi's mother knowing I kept at it. The woman had been through too much disappointment already. Too many false leads and quick retreats already denied her justice.

So, I'd keep meeting the witch in a different bar than mine, in a different town, and let the others know when Fiona's spirit could finally be called to rest.

Bracing my hands on the worn wood, I leaned in close as Willow launched into her latest findings. "Two from the Alaskan coven were found drained. They'd been dead for weeks when another coven found them. In North Carolina, of all places."

A low growl rumbled in my chest. Witches going missing was never a good sign, and we knew of two covens that had vanished into thin air. Too many saw opportunity in their power, and that wasn't even counting those in their ranks who preferred the cookies on the dark side.

The thought of Brielle—human, delicate, defenseless—anywhere near that kind of danger had my wolf straining against his bonds.

Her fucking father took part in the slaughter. Cassidy nearly died. Any wolf with a bit of sense would run in the opposite direction. I wanted to savor every inch of her instead.

"The rest are still unaccounted for," Willow continued with a disgusted twist to her lips.

My gaze drifted over her shoulder to where Brielle sat, so achingly close and utterly oblivious to the darkness lurking at the fringes. She was all soft lines and gentle curves, a stark contrast to the cruel as fuck world Willow and I hunted. Watching the way she absently drummed her fingers against the tabletop, I fought the urge to cross the room and capture those restless digits with my own.

A subtle toss of her hair had my breath catching, the scent of lilac and peppermint snaking over bodies in the bar to wind around my throat. Memories assaulted me—the feel of those silky strands tangled around my fist as I buried my face in the crook of her neck, the taste of her skin like the most intoxicating drug as I laved a path down to the swell of her?—

"Hey, dog breath!" Willow's sharp hiss yanked me back to the present. "You paying attention or just drooling over your new chew toy?"

Gritting my teeth, I forced my attention back to the witch. "What've you got?"

"Word on the street is this wasn't some random slaying." She cocked her head and folded her arms over her chest in the universal sign of dissolving patience. "The missing tongues and sewn lips weren't done by accident, and the ritual circle didn't just appear out of nowhere."

Her dark eyes glittered with offense that she couldn't hex the gray matter from her dark sisters' skulls or something equally bloodthirsty.

My nostrils flared as Willow's words sank in. We'd suspected the witches were in cahoots with Barrett's hunter friends. Killing their own seemed to confirm it.

"Any new, fun surprises on the horizon?" As if the dark magic designed to erase scents wasn't bad enough for predators who relied on their noses.

The frustrated growl built in my throat before I could swallow it.

Across the room, Brielle's head whipped around at the sound, eyes wide with concern. I forced my stare back to Willow, but the burning need to go to her grew with each pacing step of my inner wolf.

Willow shrugged, mouth twisted in distaste. "Hard to say. I'm flying out tomorrow and will update you once I know more."

A year of chasing ghosts and false trails, always two steps behind and running in circles. Frustration and failure weighed heavily on my shoulders, compounded by the guilt that gnawed at my gut every time I met Fiona's mother's haunted gaze.

But I couldn't give up. Not until every last one of those fuckers paid for what they did.

Bracing my hands on the table, I pushed to my feet and let my gaze drift over to where Brielle sat. She threw her head back in laughter at something Cassidy said, the delicate line of her throat calling to my wolf.

Mine.

The claim echoed through my mind, an instinctive brand seared onto my soul. I wanted to gather her up, press her against me until that smile was reserved for me alone.

One lingering look at Willow had the witch waving me off with a roll of her eyes. "Yeah, yeah. Go get your bone, dog boy. I'll keep sniffing around on my end."

My wolf snarled at the dismissal, but the lure of Brielle was too strong to resist. Offering Willow a curt nod, I turned on my heel and started across the bar.

I made my way through the bar, weaving between bodies as the scent of lilac and peppermint grew stronger with each step. My wolf strained against its bonds, a feral need clawing at my insides. Just a few more strides and I'd be at her side, drinking in every detail.

Dillon, one of the wolves from the Hollow, stepped into my path, chest puffed out like a gorilla trying to intimidate. His thick brows were drawn low over narrowed eyes, lips curled back to expose teeth much too sharp for public show.

"You fucked my mate!" he slurred.

I followed the jerk of his chin and blinked at the redhead perched on a barstool. Regina. An itch of discomfort prickled at the base of my skull—she'd been unattached when we hooked up. No strings, no commitment. Just a sweaty tangle of limbs that left me aching for more.

For Brielle.

Shaking off the memory, I threw on my cockiest grin and slapped Dillon hard on the back. "Congratulations, man!" I said sincerely. But I grabbed the back of his neck and pulled us together for a conference of gentlemen. "She wasn't mated at the time. Wish you both a good life."

I moved to step around the fuming wolf, but his hand shot out to grip my bicep with crushing force. "Doesn't make it right," he growled, voice low and guttural. "She was still mine, and you fucked her."

The rumbling chuckle that tore from my chest held no humor, only dark challenge as I met his blazing glare. "Maybe you should keep a tighter leash on your girl if you don't want her playing with the big dogs."

Dillon's roar echoed through the bar as his fist connected with my jaw in a sickening crunch. Pain lanced through me, hot and blinding, as the taste of copper flooded my mouth. My wolf stalked under my skin, hungry for the thrill of the fight, the need to tear and rend and conquer.

I launched myself at Dillon, the world around us fading into a blur of motion and fury. His bulk slammed into me with the force of a freight train, knocking the breath from my lungs as we crashed into a packed table. Wood splintered and chairs shattered, the tavern exploding into chaos.

Fists flew, bones cracked, bodies collided in a whirlwind of violence. I grappled with Dillon, rolling and grunting as his elbow connected with my ribs. White-hot agony blasted through me, but I shoved it aside, focusing only on the next punch, the next kick, the driving need to make the fucker submit.

Somewhere in the madness, strong arms hooked under mine and wrenched me away from Dillon's heaving form. I snarled and thrashed, trying to punch Declan and Jackson as they hauled me back.

Too late, I remembered the very human woman in the very shifter bar.

I whipped my head around, searching wildly for the source of the lilac and mint that was as vital as oxygen.

But the booth sat empty, the space where she'd been a hollow void that had my wolf throwing back its head in a howl of displeasure.

With a vicious snarl of denial, I tore myself free and launched back into the fray.