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piqued. The lycans had been created by the Sentinels for the sole purpose of hunting and containing the vampires. The fact that the lycans had revolted from Sentinel control didn’t mean they’d forgotten their ingrained hatred of bloodsuckers. For a vamp to walk into a den alone was suicidal.
    “Show her to the great room,” he said.
    Sarah turned and ran back the way she’d come, with Elijah and Stephan following at a more sedate pace.
    Stephan shook his head. “What the fuck?”
    “The vamp’s desperate, for some reason.”
    “Why is that our problem?”
    Shrugging, Elijah said, “Could be our gain.”
    “Do we really want to become a safe house for bloodsucking losers?”
    “Let me get this straight: we rebel and we’re better off, but a vampire bolts and they’re a loser?”
    Stephan scowled. “You know as well as I do that the pack won’t take in vamps.”
    “Times have changed. In case you hadn’t noticed, we’re pretty damned desperate, too.”
    Elijah was stepping over the threshold into the great room when he heard the growl behind him. Lunging forward, he shifted into his lupine form before his paws hit the rock floor. He whirled around at the same moment he was charged by Nicodemus, taking a full-on ramming in the side that knocked the wind from him. Rolling over, he regained his feet, righting himself in time to catch his challenger by the throat mid-leap. With a toss of his head, Elijah threw the other lycan across the room. Then he howled his fury, the sound reverberating through the massive room.
    Nic skidded sideways on his paws, then found traction and attacked again. Elijah rushed forward to intercept him.
    They collided with brutal force, their jaws snapping for purchase. Nic caught him by the foreleg and bit hard. Elijah went for the flank, his teeth digging in deep, his beast growling at the heady taste of hot, rich blood.
    Kicking off his attacker, Elijah turned, ripping a chunk of flesh away. Nic yelped and came back around, limping. Elijah crouched, prepared to leap, when the lush scent of ripe cherries slid across his senses in teasing tendrils. The fragrance swept through him, burning through his blood and sending aggression pumping through his veins.
    He was abruptly sick of playing with Nicodemus. Elijah vaulted ahead, twisting midair to avoid Nic’s snarling maw and coming down on the lycan’s back. Catching him by the throat, Elijah pinned him to the floor, his jaws clenched tight enough to wound and warn but not enough to kill. Yet. Just the slightest increase in pressure would cut off Nic’s air.
    Nic writhed for a few moments, his limbs flailing in an effort to shake off his opponent. Then blood loss and exhaustion stole his strength. He whimpered for his release and Elijah let him go.
    Elijah’s low growl rumbled through the room. He turned, his gaze meeting those of every lycan in the cave. They stood around the perimeter, their gazes lowering quickly as he dared all comers.
    Satisfied that he’d made his point for the moment, he shifted and faced the arched entry to the great room, his attention riveted to that ripe, sweet scent that was making his dick hard.
    “Get me a change of clothes,” he said to the cave at large, not caring who did it, just that it got done. “And a damp towel.”
    He’d barely finished speaking when she appeared, looking just as he remembered her—black high-heeledboots, black Lycra bodysuit that clung to every curve, scarlet red hair that fell to her waist, and pearly white fangs. She looked like something out of a BDSM-laced wet dream and he wanted to fuck her nearly as badly as he wanted to kill her. The lust was instinctual and unwelcome; the fury was laced with grief and pain. She’d killed his best friend in a slow, agonizing death while trying to get to him, mistakenly believing he’d murdered her friend Nikki, a vampress who’d also been Syre’s daughter-in-law.
    Be careful what you wish for, bitch.
    Baring his teeth in a