Moon, Bitten

Chapter Thirteen

         

          Ronan eased into one of the shadowed crooks of Club Red, his keen hearing tuning that thunderous Rob Zombie reverberation to a distant part of his senses, narrowing more intently to the wayward chatter of the many out-of-towners occupying his bar.

          He did a quick perusal, his peculiar eyes glinting suspiciously of something beastly within the enveloping shadows, going unbeknownst to the unsuspecting humans.

          He grimaced at the many unfamiliar faces crowding his quarters. He much preferred the drunken regulars as opposed to the rowdy newbies looking for a brief, good time.

          Groaning inwardly, he braced his weight against a slip of bar, the same bar he encountered an enticing red dress.

          He dipped his head with a muttered – damn.

          She was an aphrodisiac – his most preferred and intoxicating narcotic that he simply couldn’t dispel.

          He couldn’t deny the attraction. What man wouldn’t be drawn by the allure of those haunting green eyes?

          He was beginning to suspect that this attraction, these unwarranted and most perilous feelings, went far deeper than he deemed possible. Kate Channing was undeniably human – fragile in all her green eyes and soft, pliant lips.

          These feelings for her seem to magnify the longer he kept his distance and they were becoming increasingly intolerable to ignore.

          So encased within the depths of his thoughts, he at first hadn’t detected that eminent lone scent, one that foretold of a certain, rogue wolf.

          He pushed away from the bar and averted a hardening, icy glare to the floor below. He inhaled deeply, his chest rising with the accelerated breath, confirming that scent with a throaty growl.

          The women lining the dance floor seem to unconsciously part ways, their eyes fastened headedly to the statuesque frame striding through.

          The streaming red lights flickered fleetingly over black hair smoothed back at the top and cropped on either side. The shadows of the room clung to the hardened contours of his face further intensifying those cruel, chiseled lines.

          He’d chosen a preferred color of choice among the loup-garou – donned in black from his head to the steel-toed boots on his feet. To the humans, he resonated ‘bad-ass’, with the beginnings of a tribal tattoo peeking out from the collar of his leather jacket, that Ronan knew ran the length of his left arm.

          He felt another growl rise in his throat and settle there distastefully as steel eyes clashed with eyes of a sage green, outlined in a silvery gray.

          Nico.

          And the bastard wasn’t alone. Von trailed closely behind, including another wolf whose loyalty had been questionable, until now.

          Steely eyes locked sharply on Draven.

          Traitor.

          He caught eyes with Alaric behind the bar – his scowl meaningful.

          Alaric appeared just as surprised at Nico’s presence. The wolf had never entered his place of business, so why now?

          He gave Alaric a curt nod and stepped away from the bar, moving to settle into a leather chair.