Chapter 4

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The party continued around us. Just as I had hoped, no one approached with Lee standing so close. More blood was served and when that wasn't enough it was taken straight from the source while everyone looked on. I wanted to go home. But even the word home meant nothing to me now. It wasn't my old apartment, the townhouse I was renting, or my old room at the sprawling penthouse, assuming it even still existed.

True to her word, the very second thirty minutes was over, Lee moved away, leaving me standing alone. I slipped away soon after, sure no one had noticed, not with all the excitement crackling in the air like electricity.

If I couldn't leave, the least I could do was get ice for my back. With no bartender I headed toward the way we'd entered where I'd heard people working in the kitchen. Pushing the door open I noticed that everything was now quiet. One look at my watch and I realized the kitchen was probably closed for the night.

Everything was stainless steel which had been wiped down. Lights overhead made the surfaces gleam. I almost felt guilty stepping inside.

"Excuse me?"

My voice echoed ever so slightly. For a moment I thought I heard rhythmic thumping, like music being played somewhere beyond the walls. My body froze when a door on the other side of the room opened. Music poured in, a heavy dance beat often reserved for night clubs. A man stepped inside. I recognized him immediately as one of the werewolves who'd shared a drink at the bar. His jaw was covered in a thick stubble that was two days away from becoming a beard. Broad shouldered, he filled out the leather jacket well.

"Hi."

The man turned and looked at me standing in the middle of the empty kitchen. He studied me, nose twitching as it scented the air. The look he gave told me he wasn't sure what to think.

"Sorry to be a bother, I just wanted to know if I could get some ice for-"

He cut me off.

"Scar!" he called out to someone beyond my line of vision.

"What?"

The voice shouldn't have been at all familiar, not on a night like this one where I'd listened to what felt like a million people speak. And yet...

"Swap me. I'll deal with the Dolls, you take care of this."

Heavy boots made their way out into the kitchen. He'd called her Scar, and it fit the woman like a glove. When she stepped out, one defined brow arched, I wanted to run but there was nowhere to go. Her packmate pointed at me and if looks could kill, she would have struck me dead when those pale eyes found my anxious form. Jaw clenching, she stalked her way towards me. Scar stopped a few feet away and said nothing.

"I- I need some ice if I could... It's for my back."

There was a slow nod of understanding.

"Alright."

She led me silently around the corner of the kitchen toward the back where a plethora of contraptions and machines needed to make a restaurant run were set up. With no small talk offered, I kept my mouth shut and tried so hard to look everywhere but at her. Scar eventually knelt down in front of me to scoop out ice. The cold I briefly felt escaping was almost comforting on my legs.

The she-wolf paused. Although I was fighting not to look at her, I could see her steal a glance from the corner of my eye and hear her breathe in deep, like she was taking in my scent.

"I think it's a rule," she said with a sigh, "That when people meet three times in a night they have to say something to one another."

I tried to smile or do something other than feel embarrassed in front of her.

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