ana

f a run-down dive bar. The wooden porch carried no club flags-neutral

aight into the restroom. Standing before a water-stained mirror, I splashed f

outside, accompanied by the harsh scrape of metal

r stench-burned silver powder, the only metal on earth tha

hadow nearly filling the doorframe stagg

ched on the back. Dark red blood soaked the front of his shirt. He leaned against the wood, his ragged breathi

wed by a muffled curse. "He took a silver roun

uld step back, his rough hand shot out, clamped over my mouth,

rp scent of gunsmoke and wild cedarwood-an aggres

is voice like sandpaper over leather, his

k of silver blades drifted closer. The man's chest heaved, his blood scent thickenin

black scar peeking from his open collar-the mark of an old silv

a stranger had walked through the compound with a silver burn on his collar, and he had been the only one wh

smell of his blood was my own scent-and the only way to make that scent strong eno

et, rose onto my toes, and pressed my mo

angerous growl vibrated in his throat

trace of my soft Omega scent to wrap around him li

off, his heavy arm hooked around my waist, pinning me flush against the stall door. His

our door. Dark shadows stretched a

palm, tilting my head deeper into the kiss while

s in heat," a hunter spat in disgu

t. Only then did the man slowly release my mouth, his

e stall door and slumped onto the closed toilet

nd pricked the tip of my index finger. As a hidden White Wolf healer, my blood carried a

aurora light, along the blackened edge of his chest

ing onto the faint light on my finger

oar of multiple heavy motorcycle engines sh

nts, I closed my medical box, slid the stall

ber the price

at, and before I could turn around, his rough h

ed into my spine until I