Love is Always Write Anthology Volume 10

are your terms?"
    "I want you and all of your pack to leave and never come back to London. I don't want to ever see your face again or hear about your Cause. To you and your pack, we don't exist."
    She quirked her brows. "That's an awful lot of requests for just a little ol' picture."
    He sniffed, desperation pungent in her sweat. It was a helluva lot more to her than just a picture. "We both know that's not true."
    Margo's eyes went to the picture again then her gaze swept the bar with disgust. "Fine, I don't know what sort of information you'd ever hear in this shit-hole that could benefit me any way."
    "Hey, now," Luke warned, feathers ruffled in defense of his beloved pub. Charlie brushed his fingers lightly down his arm to rein him in.
    Margo sneered at them both. "Just tell me what I want to know and we'll be done."
    Raising his palm to his mouth, Charlie bit into the flesh. The blood oozed and he held out his hand. "Swear on it, wolf."
    Addressing her as such was a mere formality, but out of the corner of his eye, Charlie could see Luke's inner student studying the ritual with scholarly curiosity. Typical scribe, he supposed, always learning and absorbing.
    Margo didn't make a move to accept the terms of the agreement but Charlie stood his ground. Among their species, a blood vow was a binding contract, and the closest thing he could get to a guarantee the nosey bitch would leave them alone for good.
    After a standoff which felt like an eternity, Margo held one finger up. The nail grew right before their eyes. She sliced her palm then accepted Charlie's handshake. "You got yourself a deal, nightwalker."
    Her blood sizzled a little against his as they shook—a mark of the conflict between their races. He made no move to clean off the smeared blood or any indication his open wound stung as he turned to Luke. His lover's eyes were wide, confused, and Charlie placed his clean hand on his chest to gain his complete attention. Maybe Margo would think he had to compel him for an answer, but he used the moment to convince his lover with a pleading look that telling Margo what she wanted to know would keep him and the grimoire safe.
    He smiled softly at Luke. "It's okay, baby. Tell her."
    His mate frowned but gave Charlie a slight nod, trusting him. With a quick glance at the picture, he answered, "It was taken five summers ago in New Mexico at the Double Bar Guest Ranch. Why do you need to know that?"
    Margo grinned, the expression terrifying in its malice. "Answering questions wasn't part of the deal. But I thank you." She held up her cocktail in a toast. "Good-bye, boys. May we never meet again."
    Then, very dramatically, she downed the drink and slammed the glass on the bar. With a spring in her step, she headed to the exit. Charlie followed to make sure she took her two idiots with her. He wanted all of them gone, and the sooner the better. Outside, Allen and Scott jumped to attention when Margo burst through the door.
    "C'mon," Margo announced. "We're going home. I found him."
    "Who'd you find?" Allen asked, scratching his head.
    She smiled and repeated slowly, " Him …"
    "You mean…" Scott began, eyes widening in shock.
    Margo laughed with wicked delight. "Yes, that's exactly what I mean. This is the first clue we've had in seven years. There's no time to waste. I want to be on a plane for America tonight."
    "Who did she find?" Charlie asked Allen.
    "Her mate," he answered.
    Margo was swift to whack him in the back of the head.
    "Oww!"
    "Did I give you permission to speak?" she growled.
    "No, mistress," he muttered, rubbing his noggin. Charlie kinda felt bad for the guy. All those hits in the head probably didn't help with his smarts.
    "C'mon, let's go," she snapped.
    "We have a vow," Charlie reminded her as she walked away. "You won't come back to London ever again."
    Margo gave him a sneering once over. "Don't worry, nightwalker. You're beneath me and I will forget all about you after this. But I do appreciate your help."
    When Charlie returned to the bar, everyone stared at him.
    "They gone?" Tim wanted to know. "Or are they coming back?"
    "They better not be coming back," Stephen muttered. "Fucking wankers."
    "They're gone," Charlie assured them. "And they won't be back."
    Before Tim could ask any more questions, Lenny ordered a fifth drink. Stephen and George helped themselves to some soda, forgetting about Charlie as Luke ushered him into an alcove near the back storage room.
    "What was that all about?"