He looked at the hand like he expected it to bite him, but, finally, placing his cane on the crook of his elbow, he shook it.

“Aisling. Still alive, I see.”

He inclined his head respectfully. She rolled her eyes. “So, you’ve heard about our little issue with the council.”

He smiled, and from the top of the stairs, Ava definitely saw a flash of his white teeth.

“Hearing things is what I do. I’m surprised you didn’t think to come to me for aid,” he challenged, lifting a brow.

Ace was absolutely non-apologetic. “There was a chance you might have wanted to join our enemies, and, quite frankly, I didn’t need you enough to risk that.”

The wolf chuckled low. “Clever woman. Now, I hear you have a little bird under your roof.”

His cold, piercing gaze rose slowly, until he was looking right at her.

Shit.

Ava gulped, walking down the stairs.

Here was the man the legends talked of. There was no doubt that what they said of him was accurate enough. He looked like a killer, the kind who did it not because they needed to, but because it was fun.

He also looked like after killing, he’d fuck his way through every woman in his path. Covered in blood. While laughing like a maniac.

She shook her head. Well, that vision was quite specific.

“Ava Flavia Dale.”

He said each of her names slowly, rolling it around his tongue.

She didn’t flinch.

“Your sister was taller. Prettier, too.”

Now, she was narrowing her eyes.

“They said she was stronger, yet you were the one who survived.”

She glanced at Ace, wondering if she’d told him about her siblings; but none of what she’d told the Alpha would have given him a clue about Aria’s height or her beauty.

He’d been observing them. Of course. Watching your enemies was smart.

Shit. Shit. Shit.

She controlled her breathing, and forced her body to appear calm, although she wanted to tremble, and maybe hide behind Coveney, who was waiting for her at the bottom of the stairs.

Finally, she’d reached the last step.

“I was lucky,” she replied.

The wolf tilted his head. “Luck. Yes. It’s certainly luck that allowed you to evade some of the most bloodthirsty hunters of the entire shifter kind for six months, I’m sure.”

She wasn’t surprised when he moved. Somehow, at the back of her mind, she’d always suspected it was inevitable.

The wolf seized the top of his cane and pulled it, unsheathing a long, thin sword, before he launched himself at her, still smiling broadly, like he was having a hell of a lot of fun.

The Wyverns didn’t have a chance in hell of stopping him. They might be felines, but in their human shells, there was no way they could have matched his speed. They probably wouldn’t have been able to do a damn thing even if they’d shifted.

Coveney, who was closest to her, attempted to push her behind him, but she didn’t let him.

This wasn’t his fight. And she wasn’t going to let him get mauled to death for her.

So, she did what she had to do. Defense was pointless, pathetic against a predator such as him. She leaped on the nearest wall, and used her momentum to jump to his flanks. Her kick hit the mark. Holy fuck, she’d hit him! Thankfully, her body didn’t let her mind slow it down. On automatic pilot, she punched his sword hand, and flipped back when he appeared at her other side, claws extended this time, although the rest of him remained human.

He could partially shift. He wasn’t the only one.

She extended her wings and flew up just in time to avoid his bite, before folding them back, and grabbing the Malacca’s sheath. He’d carelessly dropped it on the floor. Not a smart move.

She’d learned early that any weapon was better than no weapon; it might not have an edge, but the thin wooden cane allowed her to keep his sword and teeth at a distance.

She was breathing hard, and maybe even sweating, but it hit her, suddenly, when the sword only missed her by a hair.

Her eyes bulged. She didn’t understand how or why, but she knew, without a doubt, that the wolf was just sparring.

All of a sudden, just as quickly as he’s started, he stopped moving, drawing his sword back.

She was pacing, holding her side, hurting everywhere, but the wolf didn’t have a hair out of place. He didn’t even seem winded, damn it.

“Yeah,” he chuckled. “You’re a Flavian, alright.”

The wolf extended his hand expectantly.

Slowly, reluctantly, she closed the distance she’d managed to create between them and shook it, still not quite sure what the hell was happening there.

“Nice try, birdie. But I just want my shaft back.”

“Oh.”

Feeling stupid, she handed him the damn sheath. He could obviously kill her even if she kept it, anyway. He hadn’t even tried.

“What was that all about? She’s fucking healing,” Coveney seethed, rushing to her side, and pulling her t-shirt high enough to check on her wound.

“I’m alright,” she replied, although she also would have loved to know what the hell it had been all about.

The First Wolf smiled again.

“I heard women were made of something more in Dale. I had to check.”

“Well, this one is taken,” Coveney stated simply, holding her against him.

And he must have been utterly suicidal, because he went as far as throwing his dominant vibes at the First fucking Wolf. The two-thousand- year-old ex-gladiator who’d just moved like a fucking ninja without breaking a sweat.

Knox, Fenrir, or whatever he went by, tilted his head, and raised a brow, like he found Coveney’s little display endearing.

“Is she now? Shame.” He turned his back on them, disinterested. “Now, I sincerely hope you have some tea for me, dearest,” he said, taking Aisling’s arm, and letting her guide him to the dining room.

What. The…

“Did you just get into a pissing contest over me with an ancient, murderous, and potentially insane werewolf?”

“Looks like it.”

Yeah, that’s what she’d figured.

She attempted to looking forbidding. “I’m not a thing a guy can just claim, you know.”

“I know,” Coveney replied, still not offering any sort of apology, or letting her go, for that matter.

“You should…”

“You can stop talking now. I’m about to kiss you.”

She had some sort of reply in mind, but the instant his lips found hers, she had no fucking clue what it might have been.

His lips were cool, yet everything in her burned when they touched her skin. She folded against him, wanting, needing more; her hands flew to his neck to ensure she could keep him there for the rest of time. But, just like that, he stopped, taking a step back.

“See? That’s why you’re taken,” he said, winking playfully, before walking in the living room.