Alpha Omega 02 - Hunting Ground

Tomorrow then, he’d take one of the other French wolves with him to talk to Michel.
    Anna looked sick and tired—sickened, he corrected himself. She had been right. The horror of the scene was lost on him, and probably Angus as well. If the carving had been done while Chastel was still alive . . . maybe it would have bothered him more. If it had been someone he cared about, or someone he was supposed to protect—it would have been different.
    But Anna was young, and despite her rough first years as a werewolf, there was a lot she hadn’t seen—or maybe it was just that she could look at the murder site and not think about breakfast.
    â€œAngus, we’re going back to the hotel to get a few more hours of sleep. Would you call me when the cleanup is done?”
    Angus—on the phone again—waved his agreement, and Charles touched Anna on the shoulder to get her moving.
    â€œI thought we were going to talk to Michel?” Anna said.
    â€œNot tonight. Let’s give him some time to recover. I’m satisfied that this was done by the vampires. It wasn’t me. I don’t see that Michel could have done it. Even if he could have taken a wounded Chastel, which I don’t really think is a possibility, there is no way a badly wounded man could take the time and effort necessary to paint such a picture. This was done coldly, professionally: vampires.”
    She stopped. “Why did the room smell like you?”
    He pushed her forward again. “I have no idea. Angus, check it out please?”
    Angus nodded without pausing in his conversation.
    She took a step and stopped again. “And who won the hunt?”
    â€œIs it important?”
    â€œMaybe. If Chastel had the ruby ring—and Dana had access to it. The fae can put spells on objects, right?”
    Charles looked over and saw that Angus was still listening to them.
    â€œHold a minute,” Angus told whoever he was speaking to. “Valentin won it. The German wolf.”
    Anna said, “Shoot.”
    He’d never heard anyone use that word with such feeling before.
    She gave him a tired grin. “Valentin snatched that bag from us. We almost got it.”
    â€œHe took it from you and the Italians?” Charles asked appreciatively. “That will please Valentin—a bit of getting his own back after the Omega decided to stay with Isaac’s pack.”
    â€œSo no fae-magicked gem involved,” Anna said.
    â€œSeems not.” Charles guided Anna through the front door and out into the cool night . . . or early morning anyway.
    Ian gave them a salute with his beer can as they came out and Charles stuffed Anna into the passenger seat.
    She was tired enough that it took her a few blocks before she said, “Hey. How come you are driving?”
    â€œBecause you’re so tired you’re slurring,” he told her. “Close your eyes, and I’ll get us back.”
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    â€œHOW long can we sleep?” asked Anna, shedding her clothes before he got the hotel door fully closed behind them.
    â€œUntil we have to get up,” Charles told her. He was tired, too—but he picked up her clothes and tossed them on top of a suitcase before dealing with his own in a similar fashion. He left his underwear on, as he usually did now: it seemed to make things a little easier on Anna.
    He joined her on the bed, lying flat on his face and all but groaning with the pleasure of relaxation. Four in the morning, but with the curtains drawn they might see four or five hours of sleep—as long as Angus didn’t have anything new to report.
    She was on the far side, leaving two cold feet of mattress between them. He knew that she’d fall asleep like that . . . and then gradually move over until she was plastered against him. Then he could go to sleep, too.
    â€œCharles?” she said.
    â€œHmm?”
    She moved, but with his head down he couldn’t tell if she’d turned away or toward him. There was a tentative-ness in her voice, and Brother Wolf, the canny old hunter, told him to keep his head down and his body relaxed while their prey came to them.
    â€œDoes it bother you?” she was whispering.
    He considered all the things that might be bothering him, but couldn’t come up with one appropriate to this situation. “Does what bother me?”
    â€œTonight.” Pause. “Me. My wolf.” And then she didn’t say anything more.
    It