vampire,” William said with a derisive snort.
Paoli ignored the slightly mocking tone.
“That’s right,” he confirmed. “I’m like a mosquito. I take just what I need to survive and don’t kill anyone.”
William gave him a look.
“It’s more than you can say,” Paoli pointed out.
“I’m not a vampire,” William reminded him.
“You’re not completely vampire, but close enough to be forgiven for that,” Paoli said. “Everyone has their own struggle in this world.”
“What’s your struggle?” William wanted to know.
Paoli scoffed.
“You think it’s easy being your conscience? Or this good looking?” he asked with a waggle of his eyebrows.
“Or that humble,” William added under his breath. He tapped the paper in front of him to redirect Paoli to the matter at hand. “We’ll have to use stealth,” he mused.
“They’ll never know I’m there.” Paoli moved his arms in his best ninja imitation.
“Do you know anything about the pack?” William asked thoughtfully.
A female wolf being condemned was all but unheard of. Normally, the pack defended them so they had no need to spill blood except the monthly animal hunt. Which all but eliminated the chances of them losing their humanity and being condemned. Hell, they were the humanity in a pack.
“What’s on the paper is all I know,” said Paoli as he stood back up and headed for the fridge across the room.
William leaned back and sat silent for several moments, thinking.
“Are you sure we should do this tonight? It’s a full moon and this place is almost a two‐hour drive from here.” William didn’t mention he had plans for a full moon run himself.
“Where are wolves during a full moon?” Paoli asked over his shoulder, his head in the fridge. He grabbed a bag of red liquid and tore open the top. He poured it into a mug before throwing a questioning look at William.
“Two for me,” William answered absently while he considered the question. “Wolves hunt during the full moon.”
It was a piece of common knowledge that werewolves were at least partially controlled by the moon. Even he could feel its pull.
Paoli finished pouring more liquid into a second mug and set them both in the microwave to warm. “Exactly,” he said finally.
“Which means this might be a good chance to get her alone,” William concluded slowly, trying to make sense of Paoli’s logic.
“Maybe not alone, but at least not as well guarded as usual.” He waited until the microwave dinged, then grabbed both mugs.
He set one down in front of William before reclaiming his seat.
William took a drink and savored the flavor as the liquid warmed him. It might not be as good as it was fresh, but at least it came without the guilt. And without the nagging from his conscience across the table.
For the next thirty minutes, they discussed strategy and alternate strategy in case they found themselves with more opponents than expected. Several plans were made, depending on whether their target hunted with the pack or waited somewhere else. Eventually, William was satisfied they had a plan for each possible scenario.
They loaded the car down with the usual cache of weapons, making especially sure they had plenty of silver‐tipped ammunition. From personal experience, William knew the crippling agony of silver. No immortal could fight with the pain searing through their veins, which was why he used it when he was forced to play his role of executioner. Nothing took the fight out of immortals like a silver‐based injury.
Finally, he turned his phone off—grateful for an excuse to power down the bright screen—and headed for their target. He hated cell phones. It was far too easy to track them. And he always worried about having his on him when hunting. It would be just his luck for the annoying device to start beeping and give away his position at the wrong moment. While dying wouldn’t bother him, he didn’t want it to be because of something like that. He wanted a real death; a warrior’s end. Dying in battle was an honorable and proud thing. Dying from sheer stupidity was just embarrassing.
William killed the lights and pulled off the road and into a clearing. It was a decent‐sized area; clear of trees but full of holes and uneven ground, which made it less than ideal for driving—a fact he only realized once they were halfway in. Any high-grass area could easily conceal a hidden stump or deep rut, though they were fortunate enough not to find one.
Their hiding spot was just over a mile from the farmhouse that acted as home to the pack. There was no way to know which direction the wolves had gone to hunt, but there was no sign of them there, so it was the safest place to start. They got out of the car cautiously and closed the doors slowly to keep them from making any sound.
The house they were headed to was surrounded by corn fields on three sides—all thankfully late to be harvested—which gave them the luxury of cover they hadn’t expected.
Paoli breathed an audible sigh of relief as they silently started to make their way through the field at the back of the property, moving carefully through the corn to avoid giving away their presence. Recent rains had made the ground soggy, which meant their every step made a slight sucking noise. Light from the shining moon spilled across the land, casting eerie shadows and making the corn look like silent sentries.
“I don’t care what anyone says,” Paoli whispered, ducking to avoid a stray leaf that seemed to be reaching for him. “Corn is a seriously creepy vegetable.”
William stopped, motioned aggressively for him to be silent, and gave him a look that threatened violence.
Paoli raised his hands in mock surrender and mouthed ‘sorry.’
William continued to glare at him another minute.
Paoli needed to understand the severity of the situation they were in. Wolves had excellent hearing, and the last thing they needed was for his big mouth to give them away. There was no telling how many wolves might be around, and it was important they have the element of surprise if they were going to get the execution done and get out with minimal incident. William might be an excellent fighter, but even he wasn’t capable of taking on an entire pack of wolves.
William was still glaring at Paoli when a smell caught his attention. It was very faint at first, like a whisper.
A promise.
It was there for only a second, then gone.
His head snapped around, and something inside him became very alert.
“What’s wrong?” Paoli whispered, closing the distance between them to stand at his side.
“Did you smell that?” William closed his eyes and inhaled, chasing the elusive scent. It was gone, and he couldn’t pick it back up.
Paoli gave him a look, then sniffed and shook his head.
“I don’t smell anything,” he said.
William stood for another moment without moving a muscle. He used all his senses, but he couldn’t identify a danger anywhere. There were no scents in the immediate area except the two of them and the corn.
Besides, it hadn’t smelled dangerous.
It smelled . . . good.
Comforting, somehow.
Confusion edged his every step when they resumed their advance. There was something so familiar about the smell, and yet not. Almost like a memory playing on the edge of his mind that he just couldn’t bring into focus. It drove everything else out of his immediate concentration.
He was aware of Paoli watching him with concerned