Moon, Bitten

Chapter Thirteen

          Nico greeted him with a sly, distrustful grin as they reached his level, those steel-toed boots colliding steadily with the marbled floor. He peeled his muscled forearms from the leather jacket weighing his shoulders and crossed to settle the opposite of him.

          Ronan raised a steely gaze to the other two who noticeably kept their distance, Von glaring from beneath deep-set brows and Draven avoiding his stare altogether.

          Damn cowards.

          “What the hell do you want?” Ronan sneered icily, watching Nico suspiciously as the wolf lounged comfortably in the leather, extending his forearms on either side in a languished manner.

          A server suddenly appeared and by the way her eyes fastened over Nico, she was quite eager to take his order. “What can I get you, handsome?” she purred.

          “Bourbon.” He said with a smirk, maintaining Ronan’s unyielding glare.

          “Find it elsewhere.” Ronan snarled in a deep baritone, the muscle at his jaw flexing taut.

          Nico’s wryly grin curved, revealing the slight cruelty there. “That’s no way to treat a paying customer.”

          The server quickly sashayed away, clearly unnerved by the bristling tension.

          “This is my place of business, Roux.” Ronan said with an ominous hiss, “Whatever your purpose for being here – can wait till the next moon.” Steely eyes swept from those icy ones to the two wolves lingering in the rearward, “And I don’t particularly like traitors in my bar.”

          Nico smirked, the hardened lines of his face contorting with feigned skepticism, “I can assure you, all is as it should be.”

          “All but your presence in my bar.” Ronan retorted dryly, gray eyes sharpening.

          What the hell was Roux up too?
          The server appeared with the Bourbon and dismissing the shot glasses, Nico took a hefty swig from the bottle. The hot liquor burned a swift, satisfying path down his throat, prompting a sudden fiery glow to burnish fiercely behind his sage eyes, revealing the beast that dwelled within.

          He slammed the bottle down, dispersing some of the distilled spirit onto the tabletop as he leaned forward his eyes taking on a granite haze. “I want rank.” He growled viciously, his sage eyes altering white.

          Ronan felt his mouth twist, “Is that a challenge, Roux?”

          His expression blackened, “You know it is.”

          Ronan felt his muscles tightening, the blood in his veins hastening with a surge of adrenaline, the type strictly immortal – belonging to the beast.

          He squared his shoulders, maintaining that white stare brimmed with fury. “You’ve had ample opportunity. Instead, you sick your lapdogs on me.” He snarled rigidly, “You lack the courage you speak so loosely. You want my pack? Fight for it.” He stood and leveled an icy, calculating glare on his opposed. “Otherwise, tuck your tail where it belongs and get the fuck out of my bar.”

          Nico’s expression blackened with a moments rage as he arose from his seat. As he did, Von and Draven advanced forward. Ronan braced himself for an attack, something he had anticipated, but Nico suddenly stilled them with a hand.

          It was only then Ronan realized a Micah positioned at the top of the stairs, his eyes illuminated with his beast, with a riled and eager Alaric at rear.