Three curs and a pureblood.
And close.
He widened his stance as he caught sight of the nearest cur. In human form he was small and wiry with a mane of long brown hair. He looked more like a schoolyard bully, or petty thief, than a creature of the night But Styx didn't miss the predatory hunger on his lean face, or the glow in the brown eyes that revealed he was close to shifting.
Even curs could be dangerous when their blood was running hot and their beast was calling.
Never taking his eyes from the cur who was poised near a black Jeep, Styx reached out with his senses to find the other Weres. He wasn't about to be distracted by one mangy cur so that the others could outflank him.
One more cur was hidden behind a Dumpster while the pureblood and remaining cur were on the roof of an empty Laundromat across the alley.
Smart dogs.
Smarter than the nearest cur, who gave a low growl in his throat. He was going to attack. Already his muscles were tense with anticipation, and his breath coming in small pants. In contrast, Styx remained utterly immobile, his thoughts clear and the daggers held loosely in his hands.
His seeming nonchalance was all the provoking the rabid cur needed, and with a hair-stirring growl he launched himself forward.
Styx waited until the man was nearly on him before reaching out and grasping the beast by the throat. There was a strangled whine followed by the gurgling rattle of death as Styx lifted him off the ground and crushed his throat.
He yanked the struggling form close to his body as he slid the dagger between his ribs and deep into his heart. A Were could heal from almost any wound except silver to the heart or decapitation.
There was a gasping cry as the cur went limp, and after tossing aside the corpse, Styx smoothly turned in time to watch the next cur rush from behind the Dumpster. He tossed the dagger in his hand with such blinding speed that the attacking cur took several steps before at last coming to an unsteady halt and regarding the dagger sticking in his chest.
It hadn't been a killing blow, but the silver was buried deep in his body. With a shrill howl the cur fell to his knees as he tugged desperately on the hilt.
The sickly sweet odor of burning flesh filled the cold air, but Styx's attention already had turned to the two Weres who still hovered on the roof above.
"Who's next?" he demanded.
The sound of clapping broke the silence as the pure-blood rose to his feet and stared down at Styx. Despite the filth of the alley, he was wearing a silk suit that was tailored to fit his muscular body, and his dark hair was perfectly groomed. Styx didn't doubt the man could also boast a pedicure and satin boxers.
Royalty, indeed.
"Well done. But, of course, you are the notorious Styx, master of vampires, and dictator to all demons," the wolf drawled with a faint accent. "Tell me, is it true you received the name Styx because you leave a river of dead behind you?"
Styx deliberately slid the remaining dagger back into his boot and held his arms out in invitation.
"Come down here and discover for yourself, Salvatore."
"Oh, I don't doubt we'll eventually have the opportunity to test which of us is the better man, but not tonight"
"Then why are you bothering me?" Styx demanded coldly.
"You have something I want."
A faint smile touched his lips. Ah, so his efforts were paying dividends already.
"Do I?"
Temporarily."
"If you want we can return to my lair and you can try to take her back," Styx drawled.
The wolf gave a low growl. "Oh, I will have her back. That much I promise."
"Not unless you are willing to bargain with me."
"I won't be blackmailed by a rotting vamp."