Priceless

was facing. If I wasn’t on a salvage, I’d be doing everything I could to find out more about the Arcane division of the FBI. How much did they know about the supernatural world, and was any of it true? But more than that, did they even have an inkling of how ugly it would get if the big, bad, uglies of the supernatural world felt threatened? It would be one giant clusterfuck if word got out about this new FBI division. It was a weight on me that only added to my concern over India. Distraction wasn’t a possibility, not when going after a kid. So, for now I would have to put it aside, deal with it after I found her.
    With the decision made on how I was going to handle at least that part of things, I headed back to the motel.
    I poked my head back into the office before I went back to my room. “Hey, John. If anyone comes looking for me, dial me up first, would you?”
    John frowned and scratched his head under his hat before answering. “Ain’t nobody come looking for you before. You ‘specting trouble?”
    I shrugged and bit off a piece of pepperoni. “Maybe. Hopefully not, I’ve got a long day ahead of me tomorrow and don’t really feel like spending the evening fighting off FBI agents, no matter how cute they are.”
    His laughter followed me back out the door and I could still hear him when I got to number thirteen—where the door stood open, the lock busted, splinters of wood scattered on the floor. Dropping my meagre dinner and drawing my blade, I edged up to the door, keeping my back flat against the wall. For a good two minutes I was silent; I didn’t move, just listened.
    There was nothing, not a single heartbeat, breath, shuffle, or even any psychic energy thrumming through the air. I stepped into the room, still in a fighting stance, blade at the ready, despite what all my senses told me. I wished now I’d brought some of my other toys from the Jeep. I hadn’t really been thinking anyone would be gunning for me. Not yet anyway. No one in the supernatural community should have known that I was on the case. By tomorrow, yes, but not by tonight. With only one large weapon between me and hand-to-hand fighting, I was not a happy girl, no matter how good my hand-to-hand was.
    A quick circuit of the room showed nothing, confirming what I already knew: it was empty, the intruder gone. I let out a sigh. Nothing like a pile of problems to make life interesting.
    Then something fluttered to my left. I turned to get a closer look. The curtain had been shredded and was covered in long black hair. I recognized it immediately. It belonged to a very large and very determined werewolf.
    Damn it all to hell and back.
    I lowered my blade and felt the itch in my spine a split second too late as a hairy set of claw-tipped hands wrapped themselves around my throat. I let out a strangled squawk, my hands first going for the claws, and then stopping to lower my blade.
    I couldn’t use it, not on this one.

~9~
    “G otcha!” A familiar rough voice growled in my ear as the hands tightened around my throat for a heartbeat before letting go. I took a deep breath and turned to see my ever faithful werewolf, half crouched at my feet, tongue lolling out; amber eyes wide and innocent, and his human wolf hybrid body covered in pitch black silver tipped hair.
    I let out a sigh, a mixture of irritation and relief. It could have been worse; it could have been whatever had taken India on my tail, or even O’Shea and Mini-Me.
    “Good job, you did it, you finally snuck up on me. But what are you doing all the way out here, so far away from home?” I lay my blade on the bed and folded my arms across my chest, doing my best imitation of a scolding mother and repeated my question. “Alex, what are you doing so far from home?”
    He cringed, his body, stuck between human and wolf because he wasn’t strong enough, and never would be, to switch between forms. Only the Alphas could do that; only the Alphas could pass for human. Most of the pack was like Alex, unable to switch between forms. To the contrary of what the world will tell you, being bit by a werewolf doesn’t automatically make you a powerhouse. It only strengthens the traits you already have, takes them to the next level.
    From what I could find out about his previous life, when Alex had been bitten he was a kind, quiet, submissive, harmless man. So he’d become the golden retriever version of a werewolf—loving and faithful.
    He showed up on my doorstep one