some distance between himself and the alpha. He did not offer his hand, instead inclining his head in greeting. Though he was tempted to beat a retreat and let security and the NYPD deal with it, Royce would not approve of such cowardice.
“Good evening. I understand you’re here to see Mr. Royce. He’s not here this evening, but I’m his second, John Torrance. Is there anything I can help you with?”
‘Oh my god, you smell delicious.’
The alpha smiled without teeth. He was glad he’d tied his hair back somewhat because it had a tendency to bristle when he was agitated. If he’d been shifted, his fur would be all but exploding.
“My name is Paul. I have business with Alec Royce. He has someone that I would very much like to have back.”
He’d managed to properly enunciate all that without growling or randomly shouting, “AND I WANT TO EAT THE SOFT FLESH OF YOUR STOMACH!” He felt better about all this. A little more relaxed.
He smiled at John again, close-lipped.
John suppressed a shudder as the alpha confirmed his fears. He was here for that wolf-pup, Analie. He’d told Alec it was a spectacularly bad idea to keep her, but did he listen? Of course not. Now John had to clean up the mess, and not get eaten in the process.
“I see. Why don’t you come to one of our conference rooms?” He gave a significant glance to the receptionist, a silent warning to get out as soon as the alpha was out of the way. The vampire kept his tone as noncommittal as possible, gesturing for Paul to follow. “As I mentioned, Mr. Royce is not in the office. I’ll put in a call and see if he will come. While we wait, can I get you anything? Some coffee or tea, perhaps?” ‘Some silver shot with that, you arrogant prick?’
Any and all tension the alpha had felt a minute before vanished with an audible, if quiet, snap as he jerked his head to the side, cracking his neck. He was proud he’d managed to channel every single murderous impulse into that small gesture. Being stuck in a conference room was the last place he wanted to be, but he was not ready to flat out refuse. The alpha kept his hands in the pouch-like pocket of his hoodie and dug his claws into the cloth as he considered his options. He wished he’d looked into that meditation thing while he was chewing a leech’s head off in India.
For his part, John carefully kept control over his own desire to let his fangs extend and eyes bleed into the red of agitation as the alpha took his sweet time considering his response. After a while, John added a few words, hoping to hurry this farce along.
“Not to presume to interfere, but I don’t think the other Were packs in town would be terribly pleased to find out that you are here, and I doubt you have the time to arrange for another safe meeting place. If you insist on speaking with Mr. Royce immediately, I may only be able to patch him in for a conference call, and those rooms are the only ones available that are equipped for that sort of thing.”
‘I want to eat you. I want to eat you. I want to hear you scream. I want to eat you.’
The alpha wondered if maybe he should have brought Gregory along. His deputy’s level-headed nature would have been useful under the circumstances.
‘Talk around the fangs.’
“You are right, of course. Yes, let us go to this conference room. I hope to resolve this as fast and as cleanly as possible. I do not wish to disrupt any routine you have established.”
‘I want to eat you.’
There was a prickling on the back of the alpha’s neck and down his spine as his thick hair began to sprout. ‘Deep breaths, nice and calm.’ He thought back to crouching on a crude canoe with an outrigger, an oar in his hand. The sun was hot, it was always hot, and the sea was cobalt blue. The smell of salt, the warm breeze...yes, it had been a good day.
The alpha looked up at John and smiled again. Paul was relaxed and the gold slowly bled away until there were only the tiny, perpetual rivulets running outward from his pupils.
“I think we all just want me out of your hair.”
John cleared his throat. “Right. This way.”
He gestured more sharply than he intended, passing the first