Broods Of Fenrir - By Coral Moore Page 0,7

in town.”

Bera stood with a smooth motion and moved toward him, stalking with lithe hunter"s grace. He tensed, unsure of her intentions. She pulled up her right sleeve and offered her wrist.

Brand lowered his head, keeping his eyes locked on hers as he leaned to catch her scent. She had a sweet scent, like night-20

blooming jasmine in the minutes before dawn. Beneath that was the sharp tang of female hormones associated with pregnancy. She couldn"t have transformed last week, not without putting her offspring in danger.

Brand settled back, annoyed. “You could have just told me.” Her grin sharpened as she pulled down her sleeve.

“Nowhere near as fun as watching you bow over my hand.” He didn"t succeed in swallowing the growl that leapt from his throat, though he tried. The surge of his power came unbidden as he reached for her wrist.

She chuckled low, her eyes darkening to black in response. “When you take your proper place as king, you won"t have to tolerate my taunting. That will be a great day.” Brand released her, revulsion tumbling through him.

“Never. I"ve told you that before.”

“A crown for the taking and you won"t bend your neck enough to have it placed on your head.” She backed away a step, shaking her head.

Taking that crown involved becoming the monster his sire had been, but he didn"t want to have that discussion. “I believe that red wolf was Arnbjörn.” Bera folded her arms across her chest. “I find that difficult to believe. My sire forbade him from coming.”

“Arn"s not known for being level-headed, or for letting an insult pass. I thought he would have come before now, regardless of Björn"s wishes.”

Her head tilted to one side. “So why would he come now?”

Brand offered a bitter smile and shrugged. “Maybe he got tired of following directions.” He leaned forward with his elbows on his knees. “I need your help to find him.”

“The attack was him venting frustration over not being able to find Alice.” Bera twisted a lock of red hair between two of her fingers. “Since he"s not smart enough to figure out where she is, he"ll be looking for another outlet for his anger 21

before long. Find a place he"d look for prey and you"ll find him.” The idea that Arn might be out hunting another victim drove Brand to his feet. Bloody images of the state he"d found Alice in flickered through Brand"s mind, and he pushed them away. He couldn"t afford the distraction. He stalked toward the entryway, a list of likely places already taking form.

“Brand , ” Bera called and the urgency of her tone made him turn back to her. “Take care in how you deal with him. My sire despises you, and Arn is his favorite . ” The harsh consonants of the Norse language added weight to her warning.

“He"s a beast, and it"s past time someone put him down.” Brand wrenched the door open and exited. Behind him, Bera swore.

* * *

Brand"s cell phone rang as he pulled up to his first destination, a bar named Kick. The biker hangout wasn"t far from the factory where the dead woman had been found. One of the less appealing areas of the city, the street outside was almost empty at dusk. Erik"s office number showed on the display. Unsurprisingly, Bera had called him and explained what Brand had in mind when he found Arn.

Erik didn"t wait for a greeting. “You can"t just kill him.” The ache of fury that had been building in his chest made Brand snarl. “I can and I will. It should have been done a long time ago.”

“You gave up the right to make those decisions. It has to be put to a Conclave.”

Brand struggled to contain the shout that wanted to burst from him. He should be searching, not arguing bureaucracy with Erik. “No matter what he does, a Conclave won"t rule against Arn. Björnkarl will bully the other earls to get his way.”

“I"m glad you think so much of my backbone.” The 22

sardonic sneer Erik wore was obvious, even over the phone.

“You won"t receive a summons to any Conclave Björn calls. He"s still angry you stole and defiled his daughter.” The sound over the line distorted as Erik spat out a long Norse curse. When he stopped for a breath, Brand responded. “Do you really think you"ll upset me by insulting my lineage? I"m the first to admit my sire was a lecherous goat.” Erik laughed briefly, then continued in a serious tone.

“If