II

I posted up at the end of the bar, in my usual spot. I had half a mind to waltz around and make my own drink, but the owner of this fine establishment, Cato, didn’t often like that. Glancing around, though, he was busy and needed a hand. I wouldn’t get in too much trouble anyway, nothing more than a stern gaze.

I slipped around the bar, grabbing a few drink orders and started mixing them before he could notice. 

Snagging cash from the customers, I headed over to the till. It was old fashioned, and I expected that to never change. Partly because I was absolutely certain it was impossible to break into. 

I looked back up, prepared to make my own drink, only to see Cato sliding one over to me. “Your usual, I assume?”

I smiled down at the dirty shirley temple. “Thanks.”

“You’re here for work, aren’t you?”

I cocked an eyebrow at him, not sure how he realized I had just wrapped up my previous assignment. 

“You’re an open book to me, dear,” he chuckled. “You may be good at keepin’ secrets, but your patterns are unmistakable. Converse - no traction on the soles - and your good leather jacket that hasn’t seen blood yet. You ain’t workin’ a job.”

“No,” I confirmed reluctantly. “I finished up the last one.”

Cato leaned in. I knew he wanted details, but I wouldn’t risk him by making him an accomplice. It was his old days as a warrior that made him thirsty for my stories that allowed him to live vicariously, but from what he told me, he left that life for a reason. 

“You know my style,” I simply said, taking a sip of the pink drink. “It wouldn’t be anything you would be ashamed of.”

He gave me a withering glare. “I just wanna make sure that never changes.”

I gritted my jaw, offended that he would think that of me. I had to think his origin story included some form of betrayal that he had no interest in reliving. 

Cato was pulled away, back into the lull of customers wanting drinks and conversation. I sat back, nursing my drink. This was the perfect place for silence you could only find in cacophony. Cato understood that - he was surrounded by people seeking out the same thing every day. This was not one of the human bars where I could risk running into Leah or one of her friends, so even though I risked my identity being discovered, it seemed safer. 

I listened intently to the conversations going on around me. My days of butting in to demand clarification and answers were long over, as I had learned if I was patient the answers would come without the risk of creating an enemy. Something was on the horizon, I had been able to pick up that much just by the nature of the gigs I was receiving and the influx of patrons. I couldn’t put my finger on what, but it was something that made everyone think it was time to take justice into their own hands. 

Most recently, my target had been a rapist. It was curious, because he was a member of one of the local packs, so something they should reprimand. Prior to that was just information - I followed a pack warrior to uncover why he was leaving pack grounds so often, coming into the city. I had followed him for over a week, but it wasn’t until the final day that I had observed him meeting with a warlock in a back alley, sharing pack secrets.

That alpha was quite happy with my discovery. I took myself out to a nice dinner. 

I wasn’t here actively looking for a job. My prospects had far from dried up, but I was getting bored, and the tracking assignment had me curious. 

It wasn’t hard to catch the voice of a grizzled, old regular. His stories were often overdramatized and far from accurate, but based on the truth. The secret to decoding what he had to say was finding out who he heard it from. It was usually easy enough information to gather, though, as he would brag about hearing it “straight from the horse’s mouth,” although his source was almost always at least a couple steps removed from the horse’s mouth. 

His murmurs of the Alpha King naming an heir gave me pause, though, almost spurring on a desire to walk over and beg for more information. If I gripped my glass any harder, it would crack, but managing my strength was enough to keep me rooted to my seat. Cato was quick to notice my discomfort, finding his way quickly to where I sat and leaning across the bar. 

“You hearin’ that right, girly?” he asked me, a twinkle in his eye. “That old coot you hate so much’ll be off the throne soon enough.”

Cato was a werewolf as well, which made me comfortable enough to carry on conversations regarding the poor choices of our king. The topic that warmed me to him from the start was how he banished his daughter, his only remaining heir, on what he deemed were unfounded charges.

I glared up at him over my drink. “At what cost? If he has the ability to name any heir he likes, I doubt we’ll see any sort of change. It could just get worse.”

“Not so quick, dear,” he chuckled. “Lycans must approve the heir when it is not of royal blood.”

This, I knew. I had only assumed the heir in question was a relative of mine. Male, for sure, and young enough that my father could train them up in his image. My cousin, Guthrie, was the reasonable option. A year or so younger than me,exceptionally strong, and exceptionally dumb. He was the perfect puppet - he had the looks of a good candidate, and if he could woo people the way he conned women into his bed, it’d be easy enough to ensure whoever the puppet master was called all the shots. 

“I’m sure it’s someone from the family line,” I insisted. 

Cato leaned in closer, giving me a toothy grin. “Then why the hell have I been seein’ so many lycans in the past couple days?”

He was whisked away, back into the thrum of customers, before I could answer. Another pink drink slid down the bar, stopping in front of me. It was a trick Cato was proud of, and one I didn’t mind until I had to close up my tab - one that had been steadily growing over the past years. 

I jabbed at the ice cubes with the little straw, trying to distract myself from the conversations I was now easily picking up on. A new heir, lycans making their way to the kingdom. Part of me worried. Vermont was not exceptionally populated, but the influx of the supernatural when the coronation happened would run us all the risk that the humans would uncover the secrets hiding in plain sight. 

I kept my eyes trained on my drink, hoping no one here would notice the secret hidden in plain sight. A half shaved head and purple streaks through my coveted auburn hair was no guarantee people would not notice me, especially when discussions of the rightful heir were circulating. 

I shouldn’t have come out tonight. But now, I was stuck. Getting up and wading my way through the sea of people would draw attention if I got in the way of the wrong person. Better to stay put until the coast cleared more and I could sneak out at closing time. 

I had done this a time or two. 

A peculiar tang pricked my nose, one I hadn’t smelled before. It was a heady, all consuming scent that drowned out all others around. I ran through my knowledge of the regular species that frequented this place, but was coming up short of what this one could be. A hybrid was always a possibility, but there would be notes of whatever they were mixed with. This was wolfish, clearly a shifter, but more potent. And heavenly.

Briefly, the idea of mate flashed through my mind, but it was quickly dashed out. I was a runt; I wouldn’t have a mate. It was one of the aspects of my flaw that my father liked - he could hand pick my suitor. 

I didn’t have much time to think, though, as the scent was nearing closer, muddling my thoughts. I kept my eyes trained on my drink, hoping if I just looked down, no one would notice the one green eye and one blue. 

I felt him before I saw him, his domineering presence as his eyes scanned me sending damn near electric currents up my spine.

“Now what in the world is a pretty little girl like yourself doing here all alone?” a sultry smooth voice purred from just beside my right shoulder. 

Ideas of my mate finding me in a seedy supernatural joint were permanently dashed as I crinkled my nose in disgust. He didn’t smell grotesque - far from it, actually - but his line of choice was pathetic. I affixed a smirk to my face, and peeked up at him so he could only see my green eye. 

“Does that line ever actually work?”

The man chuckled and claimed the seat next to me. “If it does, it’s done its job. I know not to waste my time.”

This time, my grin was genuine. “And what if it accomplished the same for me? Someone who says such a thing doesn’t seem like they’re worth a conversation. 

“Then why are you still talking with me, Princess?”

The smile fell from my face, my demeanor growing cold. Just as I had feared for so many years, I had been found out. Even worse, I had been found out by something I couldn’t even name. 

“Oh, don’t grow shy,” he chided. The man glanced over his shoulder, scanning the bar. “Did I cross a line? You have a date around here I need to make space for? I didn’t see a mark.”

So he knew I was a wolf. That was all. Weres were the only ones that marked their mates. Probably due to our possessive natures. 

I glanced over, examining him more carefully. He was large. Broad shouldered with cords of muscle visible even through his form fitted button down. His rolled up sleeves revealed inked forearms riddled in scars, probably won in battle. Now that he was closer, the musk of wolf was clearly underlying in his rich scent. I hated that the idea of being cocooned in his grip and scent sounded appealing. Grizzled features and a cocky attitude all meant one thing.

“You’re a lycan,” I finally concluded, voicing the realization out loud.