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His dark chuckle didn’t do anything to cool the fires within me. “I bet your boyfriend doesn’t know about your dirty side, does he?” Fane flicked his lip ring with his tongue.
“He’s not my boyfriend.” I yanked my hood back up and headed toward the main street. “We’re just friends.”
“But you want to be more.” Fane quickly caught up with me. “Too bad that’s not possible now. You’re a shifter, and that kid wouldn’t go for that no matter how much he claims to like you. His aunt would never allow it.”
Of course he knew who Hawk was. I shouldn’t be surprised.
I clenched my teeth against the insults attempting to burst free. “I hate you.”
“I hate you too.” His blue and gold eyes slid toward me. “But we’re stuck together until we can safely free the Infernal Sol from you.”
“And then I guess we can slaughter each other for it.” I flashed my own evil grin his way.
* * *
Fane parkedhis black Dodge Charger—of course he had a muscle car—in the driveway of a large, two-story blue and white house with a kempt yard and mature oaks growing on the lot. A Jeep was parked on the other side, and the garage probably held at least one other vehicle.
“Why are we in Mohan Wilds?” I asked, getting out of the car and stretching, my muscles cramped after the hour-long drive from Savannah. This area—passed the Altamaha River and before Jesup—belonged to the Mohan pack, a wolf community. “I thought we were going someplace for me to safely shift tonight.” My skin prickled in protest at the thought of changing into an animal.
Would I really be running on all fours in just a few hours?
He circled his hand around the upper-middle-class suburban neighborhood surrounded by forests. “Thisissafe.”
We climbed the steps onto the porch where wind chimes danced on the summer breeze and a giant bumble bee buzzed around a planter of vibrant flowers. “I don’t want to be around a bunch of fucking shifters when—”
Fane’s head snapped in my direction, his teeth bared. “Don’t be an asshole. These are good people, and they don’t deserve your prejudice.”
My mouth clamped shut, and I resisted the urge to step back as the waves of animosity coming off him hit me. As he reached for the door, it opened, and a man appeared.
“Fane! I’m so glad you called.” He stepped aside and waved us in, a warm grin stretching all the way to his amber eyes. “It’s been too long since I’ve seen my nephew.”
Nephew?
They must have been related on his shifter side.
The two men seemed so different at first—maybe because Fane sported a permanent scowl—but they had the same nose and similar eye shapes. They would have looked even more alike if Fane's irises were both golden amber. His uncle’s hair, the shade of a shiny penny, matched the beard shadowing his jaw.
“And you brought a friend.” He offered his hand. “I’m Ephraim Anders, Fane’s favorite uncle.”
Fane chuckled. “You’re myonlyuncle. Well, the only one that counts.”
I reluctantly took Ephraim’s hand. “Nice to meet you, Mr. Anders. I’m Tate.” Just because I had a shitty childhood didn’t mean I lacked manners. Plus, Coltrane insisted I drop my brash attitude, even when dealing with nightworlders.
“Call me Ephraim, please.” His hand practically swallowed mine. “Come in.”
The scent of food wafted from the fancy white and stainless steel kitchen on the right, making my mouth water. I could practically taste the fried chicken, macaroni and cheese, green beans with bacon, buttermilk biscuits…
Thanks to Fane’s bite, I could literally smell everything.
The spacious living room held a comfortable sectional and two recliners in front of a large television. Neither mine nor Fane’s boots made a sound on the hardwoods, the dark, glossy finish contrasting with the pale blue walls and white crown molding. A flight of stairs led to the second floor where a balcony overlooked the living room, and a pang whipped through my stomach as I pictured Hawk leaning against the railing at Corvin Manor.
“This is her first shift,” Fane explained. “I wanted to make sure she had a safe place. I hope that’s okay.”
Ephraim rested his hand on Fane’s shoulder and squeezed. “Of course that’s okay. This is your home too.”
Was Fane raised by his uncle? What about his parents?
“So you were bitten, Tate?” Ephraim asked, glancing between his nephew and me. “By who?”
