by Kelly Meding
I snickered. “Trouble follows me like a shadow.”
“Even so.”
He looked at Wyatt, and whatever they shared in that silent communication seemed to each satisfy the other. I reached back, and Wyatt slipped his hand into mine. We both squeezed tight.
“Good luck,” Wyatt said.
“And to you both,” Phin replied.
“Maybe try to refrain from getting kidnapped or killed,” I said.
“I’ll do my best.”
Someone called his name, and Phineas melted into the shifting tide of people, both human and Therian. We’d come together to honor a fallen friend. Now it was up to us to remain united against several common enemies—and with those enemies quickly stacking up, it was more important than ever. Especially with the vampires sequestered in their private facility in the outskirts of the city. They’d broken all communication. I had no idea if Isleen, Eleri, and Quince were alive or dead. No one did.
Wyatt wrapped his arms around me from behind, and I leaned back against his chest. His familiar scent was there, just a hint of soap and cinnamon, but beneath it was something new. Muskier, more feral. More proof of how much he’d changed in these last twenty-four hours … and how much remained the same.
“What are you thinking about?” he asked.
“The future.”
“Anything in particular about the future?”
“Just glad to have one.” I brought one of his hands up and kissed his knuckles. “With you.”
“Me, too. So much.”
I smiled.
“Anything you want to do with that future right now?” he asked.
“I did kind of have one thing in mind.”
“Oh?”
“Yep.” I twisted in his arms to face him and rested my hands on his shoulders.
He was smiling, too, but beneath it lay curiosity and caution. “Will I enjoy this thing on your mind?”
I tilted my head and leaned in just a little, close enough to smell his breath and feel it on my face. “I think you’ll find the results of time spent and energy exerted to be quite rewarding.”
“Then I’m all for it.”
“Fantastic.” I planted a quick kiss on his lips, excited at the prospect of getting started. “Let’s go track us some werewolves.”
He sputtered, and then it turned into laughter. “Yeah, let’s do that.”
“Together.”
Wyatt brushed my cheek with the back of his hand, love shining in his eyes more vividly than if he’d said the words out loud. “Always.”
Given our line of work, always could as easily mean an hour as a lifetime. But as long as I had him, I planned to love him—him and his grumpy, possessive inner wolf. We’d fought every twist and curve thrown at us since my resurrection. We could deal with Wyatt being part werewolf.
“I just have one condition,” I said.
He quirked a dubious eyebrow. “Oh?”
“If you ever come home with fleas, I’m dumping you.”
Only Wyatt could do incredulous indignation with such precision, and the comical expression made me double over with laughter. He held me patiently until I got it all out of my system, probably fielding a lot of curious stares along the way. Once I had my breathing back under control, I wiped tears from my eyes and stood a little straighter.
“Do you really think I could get fleas?” he asked, perfectly serious.
I lost it all over again.
Acknowledgments
Writing is a solitary endeavor, but no book is written in a vacuum, so there are lots of terrific folks to thank. My fabulous agent, Jonathan Lyons, for your patience with those flashbacks and for always believing in me. My tireless editor, Anne Groell, whose advice and suggestions always lead to a better book. Also David Pomerico, Mike Braff, and all the good folks at Bantam/Random House.
Lots of love to Nancy for entertaining all of those crazy emails, for cheering when things are good, and for being there when things are bad. Thanks to my friends and family for loving me no matter what, even when I’m being a pain.
Most important, thank you to my readers for your love and support, and for following Evy’s adventures through the wild, wonderful, terrifying world of Dreg City. I wouldn’t be here without you.
BY KELLY MEDING
Wrong Side of Dead
Another Kind of Dead
As Lie the Dead
Three Days to Dead
