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  “You won’t be killing me.” Griffin had too much to live for.

  Vane bounded forward, standing toe-to-toe with Griffin in an instant. “We aren’t pets for the vampires,” he hissed. “You would disgrace us all?”

  “She’s my mate.” For a werewolf, there wasn’t anything else to say. A mating was special. It was soul deep. With a bite, the beast could recognize his other half, long before the human part of Griffin realized what was happening. Nature’s way of speeding up the process, hell, yes. The beast’s way of saying…I found the one who makes me whole.

  “You don’t even know her.” Vane sneered at him. “You think you’re the first werewolf she went after? Not even close.”

  Griffin frowned. “What in the hell are you talking about?”

  “Ask her.” Vane nodded. “Ask her about the others. Because I heard of their deaths. Word reached me right before Carter came with his tale of you and your vamp.” He lifted his hand and shoved his index finger into Griffin’s chest. “Ask your pretty little vamp whore—”

  Griffin caught that finger—and he broke it. One hard snap. “I’m asking you.”

  Vane hadn’t made a sound when his finger broke. It took more than a little snap to hurt an alpha.

  “I’m asking you,” Griffin said again. “Tell me what in the hell you are talking about.”

  “I’m talking about the fact that your little vamp killed three other werewolves in her hunt to find a new…pet. Guess she got lucky with you, huh? Finally found the beast who would fucking bow to her.”

  Griffin glanced back at Isabella. She was staring at him with wide, dark eyes, her body tense, her—

  Claws slashed across his stomach and a fist slammed into his jaw. Sucker punch. The werewolves around him started chanting. And it wasn’t a fucking good chant.

  “Death, death, death!”

  “Death!”

  Because the battle wouldn’t end until either Vane was dead…or Griffin was. So Griffin clenched his teeth, and his claws slashed toward the alpha.

  ***

  “Isabella is too valuable to lose.” Felix stood inside of Griffin’s office. His men had trashed the place, and they’d found nothing. They’d also searched every inch of Griffin’s home, but they’d turned up nothing there, either. The bastard had vanished.

  With my vampire.

  His men kept searching. There was a thud as Griffin’s computer hit the floor.

  Where did you take Isabella?

  “At least you know they’re a match.”

  Felix’s eyes snapped open. Bait was talking.

  Bait. That was the nickname he’d given to the man he’d sent into the alley after Isabella during her ever-so-fateful first meeting with Griffin. But Bait had a real name, and it was Will Hasting. Will was sweating as he stood there. Will didn’t like the paranormals—most of them scared the shit out of him. Well, with one small exception.

  Will was a semi-intelligent guy, after all.

  “I mean, Griffin didn’t kill her in the alley. So if he has her now, you know he’s protecting her. He’ll keep her alive, and that gives us time to find them, right?” Will asked as he swiped a hand over his sweaty forehead.

  “We’re looking for a vampire and a werewolf. Two beings with enhanced strength and— as far as the wolf is concerned—very, very enhanced senses.” The werewolf would hear them coming long before they got close to their target. “And if Isabella has any humans near her, she can use her compulsion on them. They’ll give her aid.” What a clusterfuck. “We should’ve had her at the hotel.” He just hadn’t counted on the woman flying out of the seventh floor window. Next time, he’d be better prepared. “We need to offer a bounty.”

  Will swallowed. “Like a dead or alive thing?”

  “Isabella is no use to me dead.” Why did everyone always assume a vamp was dead? A vamp’s heart still beat, a vamp breathed air, a vamp needed blood to live. “I want her alive.”

  “R-right.”

  There were plenty of wolves in the city. Those wolves would be eager to kill a vampire, and he couldn’t let that happen. No, no, he couldn’t put a bounty on her head. Instead… “Put a bounty on him. Griffin Romeo. One hundred thousand dollars for information on his whereabouts.” One hundred grand could tempt almost anyone. “Because wherever he is, our vamp will be close by.”

  Will didn’t look convinced. “You sure about that? I mean, okay, even if their DNA made them some kind of mating bond…vamps and werewolves are mortal enemies.”

  Felix just laughed. “Not anymore, they’re not. She’s now his drug of choice, and he won’t go anywhere without his fix.”

  ***

  “Wh-why haven’t they shifted?” Isabella hated the stutter in her voice, but she was surrounded by a whole pack of werewolves, and she was scared. Actually, terrified would probably be a better word choice. Yet, strangely enough, the terror wasn’t for herself.

  It was for the bloody man who was fighting so viciously. For Griffin. Griffin had claw marks all over his body. Blood poured from him and from his opponent.

  “They can’t shift,” Carter muttered. “That’s against the rules.” Carter. She’d heard Griffin say his name. Once the fighting had started, Carter had taken up a semi-protective position at her side. He didn’t like her, though—none of those wolves did. Only Griffin. And if Griffin didn’t kick the ass of the alpha, Isabella knew she was in serious trouble.

  “What are the rules?” Isabella figured she should know them. Seemed important given the circumstances she was in.

  As she watched the fight, the other wolf—Vane? Yes, someone had shouted his name moments before—plunged his claws into Griffin’s stomach.

  Isabella took a frantic step forward.

  Carter grabbed her, his fingers biting into her arms. “Rule one…no interference. You try to help Griffin, and all of the other wolves will attack—they’ll come for you and him.”

  Well, that was a crappy rule.

  Griffin let out a hard roar. He punched Vane once, twice—a left hook, then a right. Vane staggered back. Griffin swiped out with his claws.

  She bit her lip. All of that blood…vamps didn’t do so well around that much blood. Her fangs were lengthening in her mouth. She could feel the slow burn in her gums.

  “Rule two,” Carter added as they watched the fight, “no shifting. You fight as a man, not as a beast because it’s a control issue. If you want to be alpha, you have to prove that you can keep your beast in check. That the man is stronger than the monster.”

  She felt shock roll through her. “Griffin is fighting to be alpha?”

  “No, I think he’s fucking fighting for you.” Disgust was rich in his voice. “He never cared about being alpha. He’s doing this because it’s the only way to keep the pack from ripping you to pieces.”

  Lovely visual.

  “Vane is our alpha right now. And he’s a tough sonofabitch, so this fight won’t be easy.”

  Vane slipped and fell onto the parking lot pavement. Griffin immediately jumped on top of him. His claws went for Vane’s throat, but the alpha blocked him. More blood spilled.

  “Rule three…the fight doesn’t stop until one man is dead.”

  Griffin drove his claws into Vane’s chest. Right over his heart.

  Vane let out a high, keening cry. His body arched upward, but then he fell back against the pavement.

  Silence.

  Griffin withdrew his claws. He knelt beside Vane a moment, his head bowed. Vane didn’t appear to be breathing. And there was so much blood. Griffin rose. His breath came in heaving pants. He turned to face Isabella. His gaze held hers but…

  His stare was hard. Cold. An icy fury radiated from the green depths of his eyes.

  What did you expect? He just killed a man for you.

  But Griffin was staring at her with such controlled and scary fury. He stalked toward her, moving with fast, angry strides despite all of the blood and—

  “Behind you!” Isabella yelled
.

  Griffin whirled. Vane had lunged up from the ground. He charged at Griffin, his hand curled around a knife.

  A knife? Why the hell would a werewolf need a knife? He has his own claws. He has—

  In a move so fast her eyes could barely follow it, Griffin snatched the knife from Vane’s hand—and then Griffin drove it deep into Vane’s chest. Smoke immediately rose from the wound, mixing with the blood that soaked Vane’s shirt.

  “Silver,” Carter spat in disgust. “That damn asshole had a silver knife hidden on him. That’s cheating.”

  Smoke was still rising from Vane’s chest. Isabella was afraid to take her eyes off him. What if he got up again and attacked? What if he just kept coming? What—

  “She broke the rules!” A male voice shouted. “The vamp interfered!”

  Snarls and growls followed that shout and suddenly, a whole lot of angry werewolves were moving toward her. Closing in.

  Carter stepped fully in front of her. “Vane was using a silver knife. I saw it in his hand. He broke the rules before she said a word. The victory stands.”

  He’d barely uttered that final word before he was shoved to the side—by Griffin. Griffin’s big, angry, bloody self was suddenly right in front of Isabella. She stared up at him a moment, absolutely certain her heart had stopped. He glared. She—she threw her arms around him.

  “You scared the life out of me,” Isabella muttered, holding him tight. He was as stiff as a statue in her arms, making no move to hold her in return. Embarrassed, Isabella pulled back. The scent of his blood was so strong. It nearly overwhelmed her. Her teeth were fully extended, and she knew all of the werewolves had to see them.

  Griffin has so many wounds. He’s bleeding too much.

  She pushed her wrist toward his mouth. “Here. Take my blood. It will help you heal faster.”

  “Werewolves heal plenty fast on their own,” Carter told her, rather arrogantly. “They—”

  Griffin bit her. She gave a little gasp and her body went from petrified to alive. Pulsing. Throbbing. Aching.

  That bite of his held a definite kick.

  The werewolves stopped muttering. Everyone just went dead silent.

  As he bit her, Griffin’s gaze stayed on her. His mouth was on her wrist, and she knew he’d bit her in the exact same spot as before. She could feel it. As if his brand had been placed on her again.

  Mates? Was that really possible?

  “What the fuck are we supposed to do now?”

  Her head jerked at those low words. She wasn’t even sure which werewolf had asked that growly question.

  Griffin’s tongue swiped over her wrist. It was an oddly tender move, especially considering that they were standing in the middle of a raving wolf pack.

  “Now…” Griffin’s voice carried easily. “You pick up the dead. We bury him.” That cold gaze of his never left her face. “And I find out just what fucking secrets this vamp has been keeping from me.”

  Her jaw dropped in shock.

  And the werewolves howled…as if…as if in victory.

  It was right then that Isabella realized she was still in some serious shit.

  Chapter Seven

  The water pounded down on Griffin’s body, washing away the blood, but doing damn little to cool his fury—even though the water was ice cold.

  He’d killed the alpha. He was now the leader of the toughest werewolf pack on the West Coast. The wolves were going to bow to him…

  And he didn’t care.

  Did she lie to me? Is she a cold-blooded killer?

  He yanked at the faucet, turning it off with a hard flick of his wrist. He left the shower, barely pausing to dry off before he wrapped the towel around his hips. Then he was storming back through the bedroom—the bedroom of his new house. Turned out that being the alpha came with all kinds of perks, and one of those perks was the sweet-ass mansion that was now his home. One hidden in the desert, back from the bright lights of Vegas. A place that promised him a life of luxury.

  If you were into that kind of thing.

  He stormed into the hallway and nearly rammed right into Carter. “Where is she?” Griffin immediately demanded. He’d taken the shower to try and calm the hell down before he questioned Isabella. And because he hadn’t wanted to touch her with so much blood on him. He figured he’d probably looked like some freaking four-course meal covered in all that blood. A real feast for a vamp. But…

  She hadn’t bitten him. She’d exercised what had to be supreme vampire control. He’d seen her little fangs, so he’d known Isabella was tempted. Why the hell do I find those small fangs sexy? Only instead of sinking her fangs into him, Isabella had given him her blood.

  Because she cared? Or because she was playing a game? Tricking him?

  “Uh…you want to put some clothes on first?” Carter asked, raising his brows.

  “Since when do werewolves care about modesty?” He was fine in the towel. “Where. Is. She?”

  “I sent guards with her and put her in the guest room in the west wing.” Carter pointed down the hallway.

  The place had wings? Holy hell. If he’d known Vane was sitting on this much cash, Griffin might have challenged the prick sooner. Vane had always enjoyed the bloodshed a bit too much, but the old alpha hadn’t liked getting his hands dirty. He’d preferred to watch the violence and battles from a distance.

  That was where I came in. I did the dirty work for him. Griffin had done the cleaning up for years, taking care of the pack’s secrets ever since he’d come to Vegas. Griffin had grown up in one of the most brutal packs in the world. His parents had been dead before he’d been ten, and he’d bounced around from pack family to pack family, never truly feeling as if he belonged. At eighteen, he’d set out on his own. He’d made a living by doing anything necessary, and then he’d finally wound up in Vegas.

  He’d liked the bright lights, liked the rush of the city, so he’d decided to stay. He and Vane had formed a truce, of sorts, and life had just gone right along.

  Until I had to end Vane’s life.

  But right before Griffin had sent Vane to the afterlife, another secret had been spilled.

  She’s done this before. She killed three other werewolves. Vane’s words kept echoing in Griffin’s head.

  “Don’t worry,” Carter assured him. “The guards aren’t going to let her walk away. She’s showering, just like you were.”

  “She’ll need fresh clothes.”

  A deep furrow appeared between Carter’s brows. “Didn’t you just say that werewolves didn’t care about modesty?”

  His hand fisted on Carter’s shirt-front. “She’s a vamp, not a werewolf. And she’s mine.” Even if she was a cold-blooded killer, she still belonged to him. “I don’t want the rest of the pack seeing her naked.” If they saw her body, he’d pretty much have to kill them all.

  Carter gulped. “Right. We’ll get her clothes right away. Something big and loose—totally covering.”

  Griffin let him go.

  But instead of retreating, Carter stood his ground. “I was trying to protect you.”

  At those words, Griffin laughed.

  Carter flushed. “We’ve all heard the stories about vampires. I didn’t want her to destroy you.”

  The way she’d destroyed three other wolves?

  “Is it…true?” Now Carter was hesitant. “Did you feel the bond click into place between you?”

  “The bond is there.” He headed down the hallway. He needed to see Isabella. Needed to touch her. Needed to get the truth from her.

  Carter followed on his heels. “What does it feel like? I mean, I’ve only met werewolves with the bond. I’ve never witnessed someone with a vamp—”

  Griffin stilled. He could see the werewolves who guarded the west wing. They shifted nervously in front of the closed bedroom door. “It feels like I found the other half of my soul. I want her more than I want breath, and I’ll destroy anyone who hurts her.”

  “Yeah, that’s intense
.”

  You have no idea. “Vane said she killed three werewolves.”

  “What?”

  Griffin’s head turned. He pinned Carter with a hard glare. “I want to know if that’s true. Spread word to the other packs. See if any werewolves have been murdered recently, and, if so, I want to know exactly how they died.”

  Carter nodded and immediately rushed down the hallway. Griffin squared his shoulders and marched toward the bedroom—and the guards. “I’ve got her now,” he said to the werewolves.

  They lowered their heads, didn’t speak, and hurried away. His hand lifted and his fingers curled around the doorknob. He twisted the knob and a moment later, the door was opening soundlessly. He walked into the bedroom. The thick carpeting swallowed the sound of his steps.

  The bedroom was empty. A big, four-poster bed waited to the right. A cherry-wood dresser was to the left. And Isabella—

  She opened the bathroom door. Steam drifted out of the bathroom and floated lazily in the air around her. Her wet hair trailed over her bare shoulders, and a thick, white towel was wrapped around her body.

  “Griffin.” His name carried both relief and fear as it broke from her lips. “I was wondering when I’d see you again.”

  He closed the bedroom door behind him. For a minute, he just stood there, staring at her. Beautiful Isabella.

  Lying Isabella?

  He leaned back, and his shoulders pressed to the wood of the door. “Did you kill them?”

  She took a step forward. “I…I told you about my past already. It wasn’t pretty, and I’m not proud of the things I did. I’ve tried to be better. I left my family and the vampire friends I had—they wanted me to stay on their path, but I needed to change, I needed—”

  “No.” His voice was cold and flat, and Griffin was surprised by that fact. Fury pumped through him, so he’d expected more fire from himself.

  Isabella licked her lower lip. “No—what, exactly?”

  “Did you kill the werewolves?”

  Her eyes widened. She crept closer to him, then, whispering, she asked, “What werewolves?”