Dark Surrender (The Dark Ones Saga 3)
“By what? Demons? You could fight them blindfolded.”
“Not exactly.” Mason’s eyes widened. “It’s guarded by wolves.”
“Come again?”
“Wolves.” He said slowly. “I am their leader. I don’t understand why he would have wolves guarding him?”
“Maybe he likes pets?”
Mason growled, his claws snaked out ready to impale me.
“Sorry,” I apologized.
“If he likes pets who wouldn’t even blink at the thought of tearing him limb to limb only to eat his bones once they fight over the last drumstick, then your idea may have merit.”
“I forgot…” And I had because I was selfish. Because I kept to myself. “You like the taste of demon.”
“It’s like barbecued chicken.” He licked his lips like he was about to have Christmas dinner.
“Isn’t everything?” I asked out loud. The pain in my chest was making my body shake with uncontrollable tremors.
Mason drove the car down a windy road because of course it couldn’t just be downtown Seattle off the I5 near a Starbucks and really nice restaurant.
His house or compound or whatever had to be in the dark woods.
Away from civilization.
The paved road slowly turned to gravel. A light up ahead revealed an iron rod gate with an intercom on the side.
“Think they’ll just let us in?” I asked once Mason pulled the car up the long gravel driveway.
Mason sniffed the air, and his dark eyes flashed silver for a brief moment. “They aren’t… unfriendly.”
“Does that mean they’re friendly, then?”
“No.” Mason barked out a growl. “It means they won’t slit our throats and use our spleens as target practice.”
“Good people, those werewolves, violent, but good,” I said sarcastically as the gate buzzed open, allowing us inside.
The house was white brick, modern, and there was only one light shaped like a small medieval torch, near the door, where two vampires stood.
When the car slowed, Mason let out a protective growl as two Werewolves about ten feet tall stomped toward our SUV.
“Nice night for a drive.” Mason called out in a polite voice.
I suppressed a groan.
“Timber isn’t expecting visitors,” the tallest of the two called out. His long shaggy hair was pulled back into a low ponytail, his eyes black.
“We’re more like…” I searched for the word and swallowed the lie. “Close family?”
“Bullshit, Timber doesn’t have family,” the other snarled.
“Do you know who I am?” Mason suddenly spoke, his voice low and commanding. The hair on the back of my arm stood at attention as he seemed to grow right in front of me.
The two wolves backed up a few feet, recognition flashing in their eyes. “But… we haven’t seen you in years! You rarely leave the immortal compound.”
True… all of that was true. Mason ruled in secret, kept to himself, and mourned the loss of his mate as if he was no longer living. For his own kind to not even know he was still around was no big shock.