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around five-nine, her body one of provocative valleys and swells that drew every male eye in the bar. Deep, pale green eyes—the shocking color only made more striking by the dark, glossy tendrils of ink-black hair tumbling around her perfect features—stared back at him with a bold, aggressive air of confidence, which was why Casus females held so little interest to the males. Instead of screaming whenyou hurt them, they just laughed…then begged for more, which ruined the mood, as far as he was concerned.
    “Well, well, well, if it isn’t Gregory DeKreznick,” she purred, running one perfectly manicured nail down the muscled length of his arm. “Wow. You’ve finally got a little meat back on your bones. I take it freedom is sitting well with you?”
    He stared, recognizing the sensual tilt of her mouth, the glittering calculation in her gaze. Even though she was wearing the body of a host, he knew precisely who she was. “What do you want, Pasha?”
    “Can’t I come calling on an old friend?” she asked, leaning closer, as if she were sharing something intimate.
    Forcing the words through his clenched teeth, he said, “We were never friends.”
    “But we could be,” she murmured, smiling at the bartender as she gestured toward Gregory’s beer, silently asking for one of her own. “We’re all on the same side here, you know. Freedom of our kind and all that.”
    A rough, husky bark of laughter jerked from his throat. “I could give a shit about our kind, and you know it. I’m in this for no one but me. As others have already discovered.”
    She crossed her legs, the black miniskirt she wore rising along her slender thigh, revealing far more skin than was decent. Holding his stare, there was a knowing edge to her words as she said, “From what I hear, Gregory, you’re in it for revenge.”
    “Is that right?” he asked, forcing a bored tone tohis words, though he couldn’t help but wonder what she was after.
    “Mmm,” she purred. “Heard the oldest Buchanan took out Malcolm. Dear big brother is rotting in hell now, no?”
    His eyes narrowed, a low, feral snarl surging up from his chest, but he fought back his temper, focusing on keeping his fangs and claws from releasing. Now wasn’t the time to rip the stupid bitch to shreds. “Last time, Pasha. What the fuck are you doing here?”
    She smiled at the burly bartender as he approached with her beer, his brown eyes glazed with lust. “They’re so pathetically easy,” she murmured with a casual air, when the guy reluctantly moved away to take an order at the far end of the bar. “And in answer to your question, Gregory, I think you know exactly why I’m here.” Her smile was sly as she met his stare. “Doubt I’ll be the only competition you have coming into town.”
    Yeah, he’d known that competition was on its way, simply because Riley Buchanan wasn’t his. Wasn’t the Merrick that Gregory’s release had caused to awaken. And then there was the issue of the Marker, which the other Casus knew the Buchanans would be going after, now that Saige was once again in possession of the maps. It was going to be a battle to get his hands on the Merrick and the Marker, but he had no intention of turning tail. No, he wanted this too badly. Wanted to take the Buchanans apart, piece by piece. But they hadthe other two in lockdown. The only one to venture out of the safety of Ravenswing was the lawman, and Gregory knew exactly what the bastard was after.
    “You want the Marker,” he said to Pasha. “The one he’s come here to find.”
    “That would be nice,” she drawled. “But I want the sheriff, too.”
    Gregory snorted. “Well, you’re not getting him. He’s mine. ”
    She ran her finger around the top of her glass, and softly said, “Actually, Gregory, he’s mine.”
    “Shit,” he muttered, understanding exactly what she meant. In an effort to promote order among the newly escaped Casus, it’d been decided that since only a fully