Raising the dart again, he tensed when Garret coughed and cleared his throat.
“What?” Billy asked, lowering the dart and looking over his shoulder.
“Do you really think she’ll let you get away with giving her the bare bones of the story?” Garret leaned against the wall, his large arms crossed. Humor danced in his eyes. “I may not be the smartest man in Monstrana, but I’m smart enough to know that woman isn’t going down without dragging the whole story out of you.”
Billy huffed and threw his darts, each one landing far from the bullseye. He shot a dissatisfied look at his friend and went to fetch them.
Garret didn’t know what he was talking about. Stasia may be clever, but he was the one holding the cards at the moment. He would reveal only what he was comfortable with and nothing more. The facts.
He’d gone to America to take on the alpha role in a dying werewolf pack. A group of supernatural hunters had tracked them down and attempted to wipe them off the face of the Earth. He’d managed to save them.
Well, most of them. But she didn’t need to know that one last painful detail. The part of the story that still caused him to wake up during the dead of the night in a cold sweat, his claws slashing at an invisible enemy.
“Garret, honey, our money’s on you,” Ashley called in a sickly sweet voice from the kitchen. “Don’t let me down.”
Garret stood at the line with his darts in hand and a stupid expression on his face. He grinned through the open doorway to the kitchen and let loose his first dart. Billy didn’t have a chance to jump out of the way. The metal tip of the dangerous toy sunk into his flesh and blood began to trickle from the wound.
?
Stasia leapt from the countertop when she heard Billy cry out. Sprinting to the living room, she witnessed him grasping at his back, attempting to dislodge the dart that had made itself firmly at home within his muscles. If it hadn’t been for the tiny bit of blood soaking into his white t-shirt, it would’ve been a comical sight. Billy spun in an effort to grab it, having no success.
“I’m so sorry, man.” Garret backed away from the scene, his round cheeks as red as apples. His gaze flickered to Ashley, who’d followed Stasia into the room. “I didn’t see him there.”
“That’s because you were too busy making goo goo eyes,” Billy shot back, frustration tugging at the corners of his mouth.
Stasia stifled a laugh with the back of her hand. “Relax, Billy. I’m sure Garret hasn’t maimed you.”
“How do you know?” Billy raised his eyebrows in a challenge. A teasing glint flashed in his eyes. “Those darts are decades old. I could have tetanus.”
“Because you’re a werewolf.” She rolled her eyes as she strolled toward him. “And that wound will be gone in less than thirty seconds, just as soon as you hold still long enough for me to get the dart.”
He smirked, but willingly turned to present his back to her. Sure enough, it wasn’t much to be concerned about. A human might be sore for a few days, but a werewolf could shrug it off in no time.
She placed a hand on his back and felt his muscles twitch beneath her touch. A sudden appreciation of the male form entered her head, fixated especially on the man in front of her. In his adult years, he’d put on a thick layer of muscle that rippled with his every movement. It looked good on him. Too good. She could feel her body responding as her hand traveled to his shoulder, heat cascading down her arm and settling uncomfortably in her gut.
“Just give me a second,” she said through clenched teeth. As quick as a flash, she plucked the dart from his back and put at least three feet between them.
“Thanks,” he mumbled, rolling his shoulders. Turning to Garret, he shrugged. “No harm done, but I think we’d better give the darts a rest. Feel like a drink on the back porch? Let the ladies cook in peace?”
“Definitely,” Garret said a little too quickly, a silly grin on his face. He hopped to attention and led the way through the French doors leading to the backyard. The sound of the door slamming shut was the final clue that the girls had been abandoned for the peace of the outdoors.
“I’m sorry about Billy,” Ashley said from the doorway. She’d donned the customary hairstyle of two wild buns on top of her head. A purple satin tank top and a tight denim skirt were the only things she wore. Her bare feet didn’t make a sound on the carpet. “He’s been in a terrible mood since he came back from Alaska.”
“What was so bad about Alaska?” Stasia asked, propping herself up on the edge of the foosball table.
She’d always liked to go there, but hadn’t found the time. Most of her life had been consumed by her driving need to make a name for herself in the entertainment world before royal duties took precedence. Travel would come later.
“Paranormal hunters,” Ashley whispered, her green eyes opening wide. “They caught news of the weakened pack. Decided the time was right to strike. If it hadn’t been for Billy, the whole pack would’ve died.”
Stasia gripped the top of the table for support. The word hunter struck a chord deep down in the heart of any supernatural creature. For as long as werewolves, vampires, and any other supernatural creature had existed, so had the hunters. They were a small group of humans, bent on ridding the world of anything they deemed to be unnatural. The news of their attack angered Stasia to her core.
“If he saved the pack, why didn’t he stay in Alaska?” she asked, biting the inside of her cheek. “Why leave them defenseless?”
“After the attack, Billy decided to dissolve the pack,” Ashley answered with a shrug. She leaned against the door frame and placed her foot against the wall. “Guess he didn’t feel like he had a right to lead them after his fiancée died.”
Stasia fell off the table and caught herself just in time to avoid a face plant on the edge of the hockey table. She stared at Ashley with disbelief and horror. “Billy was engaged?”
“Well, yeah.” Ashley shrugged. “She was the daughter of the old alpha. And the only one to die in the attack. Sad, really. I don’t think he’ll ever forgive himself for not saving her.”