Unleash the Night (Dark-Hunter 8)

Chapter 6

Wren felt like warmed-over shit as he walked through the back door of Sanctuary. He forced himself to shut the door gently and not slam it. He didn't want to be here. The only place he wanted to be was with Maggie.

Even now he could smell her scent on his skin, feel her body pressed to his. He craved her with a consuming madness that wanted him to turn into his true form and bound back after her.

But it could never be.

There was no place in his life for her.

"You're late, tiger," Remi growled at Wren as he entered the kitchen. "Where the hell have you been?"

Wren ignored him as he pulled a white apron from the hook by the door, shrugged it on over his head, and tied it around his waist. Marvin came running up to him, chattering in an angry tone as he expressed his upset at being left alone with the bears for so long.

"Sorry, monkey," Wren said quietly. "I had things to do this afternoon."

Marvin pursed his lips before he bounded up Wren's arm to perch on his neck and muss his hair. Wren smoothed it down but didn't comment.

Remi gave him a hostile glare before he went to get another keg out of the supply room.

Tony came through the kitchen door from the bar area with a load of dishes. He passed a relieved look at Wren as he set them in a large stainless-steel sink. "Man, we have been busy today. I swear it feels like Mardi Gras or something."

Wren glanced to the clock on the wall. He was fifteen minutes late and Tony still had traffic to deal with.

Tony inclined his head to Wren. "Don't worry, I'll make it. But watch out for Remi, he's been in a pissy mood all day."

Wren snorted at that. Remi stayed in a pissy mood. The bearswain had perpetual PMS.

"Don't speed," Wren warned Tony as he shrugged off his apron and pulled his keys out of his back pocket. "There's a cop just down the street."

"Thanks for the tip."

As soon as Tony left, Remi paused with the keg and glared at Wren again. "What? You talking to the help now?"

Wren ignored him as he picked up an empty dishpan.

Remi cocked his head. "You wreak of human, tiger. Where were you this afternoon?"

He could sense the bear wanted to attack-it was as much Remi's nature as it was his own. But luckily the bear had better sense. Without acknowledging him at all, Wren headed out to the bar to bus tables.

It was a typical evening with the tourists and bikers mingling against the backdrop of heavy metal songs that played over the stereo. The Howlers wouldn't take the stage until much later. With the exception of Colt, who was their guitarist, the band tended to sleep all day and only rise at dusk. It was hard for an animal to retain its human form in the daytime.

Only the truly strong could manage it.

Since it was dinnertime, the table areas were packed with people eating. There weren't many Were-Hunters about. Wren was one of the few who came out this early. But then, daylight had never bothered him that much. Even though he was young by Were-Hunter years, he'd never had a lot of trouble remaining in human form before dark. He wasn't sure why.

Maybe it stemmed from the fact that it took just as much effort to hold a pure tiger or leopard form as an animal as it did to look human. He'd honed those skills early in life as a way to at least try to blend in with the other animals.

Unfortunately, it had been moot, since they could smell that he was a hybrid. His scent was the one thing that he couldn't change even with magic. And he hated it.

As soon as he filled his pan, he headed back toward the bar for the kitchen door. Behind the bar, Fang moved to hold the kitchen door open for him.

Wren inclined his head in thanks. Fang was a wolf who had come to Sanctuary almost a year and a half ago. He'd spent the first few months here in a coma brought on by a vicious Daimon attack that had left the wolf completely defenseless. Unlike the vampires of Hollywood legend, Daimons not only drank blood but also sucked living souls into their own bodies to elongate their lives. Since Were-Hunters were able to wield magic, they were particularly sought by the Daimons, who could use the magic themselves after they killed a Were-Hunter.

It was a harsh thing for a Were-Hunter to be attacked by them, and Wren could understand Fang's coma from it. The wolf was damned lucky to be alive.

Since that weird Thanksgiving when Fang had managed to leave his bed for the first time, he'd been slowly coming back around, but the wolf was still seriously scarred by his attack.

"What happened to your hair, tiger?" Fang asked.

"It fell off."

Fang shook his head as Wren walked past him, into the kitchen. He stopped at the sinks. Marvin leapt from his shoulder to the shelf above while he unpacked the pan for the dishwashers.

"How did it go this afternoon?"

He turned his head to see Aimee behind him. As always, she was stunningly beautiful, with a tight red T-shirt and a pair of jeans. A wide smile curved her lips. She looked hopeful.

Wren shrugged. "It was all right."

Her smile faded. "Did the flowers not work?"

"They worked."

"Then why aren't you happy?"

He shrugged again.

Aimee grabbed him by the arm and pulled him out of the hearing range of the others, into a corner. "Wren, talk to me."

She'd been the only person he'd ever really spoken to, which didn't say much, since he seldom said more than a handful of words to her. "I don't belong with a human."

She glanced toward the door that led to the bar where Fang was working. "Yeah, it hurts to want something you know you shouldn't. But-"

"There are no buts in this, Aimee," Wren said between clenched teeth. "Katagaria don't have human mates, you know that. When was the last time one of us was mated with a human?"

"It's happened."

He knew better. "Even if it did, we'd be sterile. An animal can't have children with a human." Which might not be so bad. The gods knew the last thing he needed was to sire more freaks like himself. But that wasn't the point. The point was that Maggie was out of his league. She was everything decent in the world, and he was everything that gave humans nightmares.