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I sniffed my way to the kitchen. There was no use going back to sleep, not with those green eyes haunting my dreams.

Nightmares.

It was always the same.

The reminder of the human I’d once shared everything with was gone, and the guilt that even during our short mating — I’d been having dreams of another — came down onto my heaping shoulders tenfold.

I was not a good man.

I was more beast than anything.

Wolves mated for life, and in my dreams I’d allowed another female to touch me, to lick me.

I shoved the betraying thoughts away and turned on one of the kitchen lights. My eyes zeroed in on the freezer before I could stop them.

Ten steaks.

Red steaks.

Steaks with at least forty grams of protein, enough blood to saturate my mouth, coat it with its essence.

Embarrassed, I looked away.

Leave it to me to be the only wolf who craved both blood and meat. I was defective and why I’d stepped down after my mate’s death.

I did not deserve to be King.

Their leader.

The wolves had each other. The pack. They had no use for me.

“Mason.” Ethan, vampire pain-in-my-ass, barked out my name like he was irritated with me. He sat at the table, hands folded, black hair pulled into a stupid bun in the back of his head making him look like a female. He glared. “I can hear you.”

“I know.” I sniffed the air. “Where is Genesis?”

He rolled his eyes. “One day you’re going to ask about my wife, and I’m going to bite you where it won’t heal.”

I waved him off. “I always heal. It is what I do.”

“Right.” His grin turned lethal.

I started turning around, but he was in front of me within seconds. Damn fast vampire pain-in-my-hairy-ass. “I’m busy.”

“She’s been here for two days. At least talk to her.”

“No!” I barked, already feeling my hackles rise as my wolf shoved forward ready for a fight, ready to take down anyone stupid enough to stand in my way.

And then my least favorite siren in the entire universe entered the room, making the air sick with his heat. Tiny particles of dust pulsed around his body like they couldn’t help themselves — damn pheromones.

He took one look at us and grinned. “You guys fighting again?”

Sirens found great joy in emotional distress, especially ones like Alex — too damn powerful for their own good. His face lit up with excitement as he glanced between us back and forth and then finally calmed the tense air, sucking it through his nostrils like my pain was his drug and Ethan’s irritation his tonic.

“You done?” I gritted my teeth.

Alex shrugged. “Can’t help it. I love a good fight.”

“Go mate with your elf.” I felt my control snapping; everyone around me reminded me of loss.


Tags: Rachel Van Dyken The Dark Ones Saga Paranormal