The Hunger (The Lycans 3)

“Welcome to Isla.”

His voice was deep and held an accent I couldn’t quite place, and the corners of his blue eyes crinkled as his smile widened.

“Uh, yeah. Hi. Hello.”

He made his way behind the desk, straight white teeth still flashing. “Darragh, I presume?”

I was surprised he’d gotten my name correctly—Dar-Awe. Most of the time when people say it written done they butchered the hell out of it, but even if it was clear he wasn’t a Scottish native, he pronounced it clearly.

I cleared my throat and nodded, trying my own smile on for size. It wasn’t that I was attracted to him or anything and that’s why I’d suddenly become speechless. It’s just that he certainly wasn’t what I was expecting when I entered the B and B.

Definitely the son. Or maybe the owner’s grandson.

“Um,” I said and took a step forward. “Yes. That’s me. How did you know?” I reached down for my carry-on and grabbed my wallet, assuming he’d need my ID or credit card or maybe even my passport for check-in.

“We don’t get a lot of visitors in town, and especially not young American women.” His smile widened. “It’s always exciting getting a guest, but especially so when they are foreign.”

I felt my brows lower. That was… a weird way to put it, but then again, English clearly wasn’t his first language, so maybe there was a language barrier type of deal going on.

“I’m Christo, the owner. How about we get you checked in?” He didn’t wait for me to reply, just booted up his computer, the tap-tap-tap of his fingers flying over the keys drowning out everything else. Once he made a copy of my passport, got all my information for registration, and I gave him my credit card, he turned and stared at a pegboard where old-school keys hung in a neat row. There were only four of them in total.

“I’m going to give you the Rose Suite. It has the best view of the village.”

I smiled in thanks, although at this point I would have been fine with a bed tucked into a closet. I was really starting to feel that jet lag.

His smile was still in place as he led me up a narrow set of stairs. He started talking about the history of the B and B when it came into his family’s possession, and I idly listened as I followed him up, responding at the appropriate times and smiling in agreement with what he said when he glanced back and waited for a response.

Exhaustion was suddenly hitting me like a ten-ton ball to my body. I’d planned on jumping right into investigating and finding answers, but a nap was sounding far more realistic for my future.

“My father bought the property about a decade ago, then renovated and converted it into the B and B. We knew it wouldn’t get much traction, of course, not with the location and the town so small, but every summer we do get a small rush of visitors because of the Búraló Forest surrounding the town, and then of course there are the Cliffs of Moira. It’s quite breathtaking.” He looked over his shoulders and smiled. “In fact, I can give you a pamphlet on it. There’s a gorgeous walking trail that will take you right to it. Although it is a good distance away, at least an hour each direction. But it is worth it.”

He slid the key into one of the locks of the closed door, and I looked around and noticed three other identical doors in the hallway, presumably the rooms he rented out.

With a click and a turn, he pushed the door open and stepped inside, moving out of the way so I could follow him in.

The room was everything I’d expected it to be, given the look and feel of the establishment. No frills or nonsense decor. Then again, I wasn’t here for luxury.

The bed itself was smaller than a full-size mattress but bigger than a twin. The bedspread was this brown-and-mint paisley pattern, the frame situated against the wall and in the center of the room. I noticed there were a couple of pictures hanging on the walls, both of them depicting wolves. Now that I thought about it, the few pictures I’d seen lining the staircase and in the front office all had wolf decor.

“You guys like your wolves,” I said softly, not realizing I’d spoken loud enough he’d heard. He glanced at me and smiled, his head cocking to the side slightly.

“It's a bit much, isn’t it?” His grin widened. “I thought the same thing when I first moved to town.” He shrugged his broad shoulders. “But this town is heavily influenced by lore, especially werewolves, or Lycans, as they call them. It’s all pretty fascinating stuff.”

I shrugged my own shoulders and smiled. “I’m not really into the fairy-tale stuff. I’m too much of a realist, I guess.”