Touch of Evil - Cecy Robson Page 0,12

finished last week. It’s just a distraction tactic Taran came up with to avoid coming clean with the males in our lives when we’re involved in something they wouldn’t approve of and will likely get us arrested and / or killed—for the greater good, always. Well, almost always for the greater good.

For some reason, it really works.

“Tampons?” he clarifies.

I don’t get the chance to respond. He holds up his hands and backs away, more than proving that no matter how sordid, there’s always something to Taran’s logic.

“Can’t help you there, babe,” Bren tells me. He watches me sip my water. It’s then his features change. “Are you…are you meeting someone here?”

There’s a light snarl to his voice, almost imperceptible, but definitely there. I play with my hair, wondering what he’s thinking and why he appears so bothered.

I would never bring a date here, and the only male I’ve brought around Bren was Liam. Something about another man, especially a were in Bren’s presence seems wrong, a betrayal I can’t explain.

Bren’s focus travels from my hand and to my face.

My hand falls away from my hair and still he doesn’t move.

There’s no reason to keep my night a secret and promptly explain. “I was on a date, earlier, but I didn’t have a good time.”

His voice lowers. “Why not?”

Bren doesn’t bother to mask the irritation in his voice. As part of his chosen pack, he was always protective. “The wolf, Ted, wasn’t who I thought he was.”

“Those assholes you waste your time on never are, Emme,” Bren says. He snags another ticket and pops open several bottles of beer, his motions usually smooth and well-learned, are now aggressive.

I don’t discuss my social life with Bren. It’s odd that he knows how awful my dating history is. I speak carefully, not wanting to upset him further. “I haven’t had much luck,” I admit. “But I’m trying. I…I don’t want to be alone.”

The truth spills out of me without my permission. I didn’t want it to, especially in front of Bren, but here it is, mingling with the band’s increasing tempo and the aroma of cologne and freshly poured beer.

Bren stills with the beer in his hand, the top already popped and lying somewhere on the floor. He swallows hard. “Did he…touch you, kiss you, shit like that?”

His question stiffens my spine. Is he really going there? “No,” I admit.

He sighs, relieved. “Good.”

I make a face. “He was too busy stripping out of his clothes and asking if I liked what I saw.”

“On the street?” Bren asks.

“No, no. In his apartment over on Were Alley.”

Bren slams the beer on the bar, shattering it. “Fuck,” he snarls.

He sticks his hand into an empty bucket and shakes off the shards of glass imbedded into his skin. With another snarl, he wipes up the mess with a rag.

Like all weres, Bren’s skin tough. The glass doesn’t appear to have punctured deep enough to cut. Still, I reach for his palm, bent on inspecting it for damage.

He pulls away. “Why the hell did you follow some asshole back to his apartment?” he demands.

Bren’s reply and anger take me aback. “Why do you think?”

I hold out a hand when his eyes fly open. “I don’t mean it that way. What I’m saying is, we were on a date and that’s something people on dates often do.”

I shut my mouth when I realize how many loitering weres are listening in on my latest debacle. The band has pulled in a larger crowd from the street. Most are human. Those closest to the bar are weres and they look familiar.

“Ted offered to take me for a ride along the lake,” I say, lowering my voice. “He said he’d left his keys in his apartment.”

“Emme, the only place he wanted to take you was to bed,” Bren tells me flatly. “No one takes romantic drives anymore. It’s just shit he made up to get you back to his place.”

“I realize that now,” I reply.

“The idiot probably doesn’t even own a car,” he adds.

My shoulders droop when the weres behind me laugh. I only hope they’re not laughing at me. “I get it, Bren,” I whisper. “You don’t have rub it in.”

He groans and swipes his face when I shrink further inward. “I’m not trying to make you feel worse. There’re just a lot of horny bastards out there. And some of these newbies trying to get into the pack aren’t disciplined at all, you feel me? The war took out a