the ways of combat.
Feeling awkward and uncertain, eager to change the subject, Analie gestured to the bags containing her new clothes sitting against the wall. “Thank you, by the way.”
She was really missing econo-packs of T-shirts and K-mart jeans right now, but she thought it would be ungrateful not to say something. Her eyes had bugged when she saw the receipt in one of the bags. That kind of money could keep her dressed at Gavin’s for years.
“You’re welcome. And I wouldn’t be in too much of a rush for that sort of thing. Life can be fleeting. Take enjoyment in what you have, rather than seek new ways to lose it.”
That in mind, he figured he’d pressed enough for the time being. He had to make a few calls of his own. The idea of talking to Clyde made Royce grit his fangs, but there were things he needed to set in motion before it was too late.
“Now, before I go, is there anything else you need?”
'A “Get Out of Jail Free” card,' Analie thought, though she managed not to say so out loud. This was a really weird cub-hide. “No, thanks.”
Royce nodded, wondering if he’d erred in his earlier estimation. She was unhappy, but not terrified of him as she’d started out. It seemed that she might become used to him and play into his hands far sooner than he’d thought if he kept up the “nice guy” act.
He didn’t mind treating his subordinates or “guests,” however unwilling, as well as he did. The satisfaction in knowing that he could accomplish his ends by using nothing more than charm or persuasion pleased him greatly. Force was a last resort. He was one of a very few vampires that managed to rise to the top and stay there without fear of being usurped. Too many of his minions would give their own lives before seeing him come to harm. In return, he made them feel he would do the same. If it ever came down to it, he just might.
“I’ll bid you goodnight, then. Sleep well.”
With that, he left for his own chamber, intending to call Clyde Seabreeze as soon as he got upstairs. Whatever was going on in Los Angeles, he intended to get to the bottom of it.
* * *
Royce didn’t know what to make of the situation. There weren’t enough vampires in Los Angeles to justify the sort of massacre he thought was being planned. The massive numbers of gathering Weres would attract media attention before long. Clyde had not been very helpful either.
“Hell if I know. They’re dogs, man. What do you care if they pack up?”
“I’m trying to find out if what’s happening poses a danger,” Royce had said. “I’d think you’d be interested in that.”
“Look, dude, they aren’t a prob. We don’t mess with each other. As long as they leave me and my people alone, they can do whatever they want.”
“Aren’t you even the slightest bit concerned? Your people could be hurt.”
“You don’t seem to get it. Look, Royce, babe, if you want to do lunch, give me a ring. Come out here sometime, I’ll get you a walk-on in some TV show, it’ll be great. Don’t worry about the howlers, they’re nothing. Air. We walk through them. They don’t see us, and we do them the favor of not seeing them.”
Royce sincerely hoped Clyde was right.
For the time being, he’d keep his ear to the ground. If the wolves brought their war east, or brought their troubles too far into the public eye, he would fly to Los Angeles to personally gut the alphas responsible for starting this nonsense.
He’d also have to get Analie busy or she would start looking for other avenues to work off her rambunctious adolescent energy. Keeping a teenaged Were idle spelled trouble if he didn’t channel her agitation to something productive as soon as possible. Jacques hadn’t had the time to pick up the things he needed, and refused to delegate the task to someone else. It was irritating, but with his skills, the prima donna chef could have worked for anyone. Royce wouldn’t risk losing him to a rival restaurant by insisting on such a trivial matter.
In the meantime, he would call in a favor and introduce Analie to the Moonwalker who would be her “babysitter” during the full moon.
Chapter 9
Ashi had a full week. First there was declaration of war. Then that cub-hide started, along with the requisite moaning and wailing from the parents.