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then the second he had my blood he went straight for Charlee. He could have killed her,” the werecat said.
    Okay, that was it; hearing and smelling wasn’t good enough. He had to risk a window seat. Cole slunk around the side of the house to the first available window.
    The crying redhead sat at a bar stool drinking something out of a mug, her unruly curls covering much of her face. Dayne stood behind the werecat with his arms wrapped around her, his chin resting on the top of her head.
    “I mean, Jane and I weren’t best friends or anything. She’s a little hard to get to know. But still, I liked her . . . like her,” Charlee corrected. “You have to help me rescue her.”
    The dark-haired woman pulled out of Dayne’s embrace and rested a hand on the crying woman’s arm. “The wolves are like shadows. No one can follow them to their den; the trail just ends.”
    Charlee turned imploring eyes to Dayne. “What about a spell? You can track Jane with a spell. I’ve got stuff of hers.”
    “Perhaps,” he said, doubtfully.
    Cole was glad, not for the first time, that he’d thought to add a magical barrier of security. Some of the pack had argued hard with him ten years ago when he’d insisted on wards to protect the den, claiming it was too much work and expense, that no one could find the den with magic because no one would have any of their personal belongings.
    Even if the cave was camouflaged and locked up tighter than Fort Knox, it was an extra measure of protection knowing they couldn’t be tracked through a spell. Least of all through a spell from Wickham.
    Dayne looked right at him, and he moved away from the window. The sorcerer didn’t have fancy eyesight; there was no way he could have seen a solid black wolf outside at night. Still, he must have sensed the magic coming off him. Well, he’d been standing there for fifteen minutes or more. Plenty of time for Dayne to get a read on something fishy. The man didn’t have a reputation for nothing.
    Cole wanted to stay to find out more, but the risk was too high. He turned and ran, putting several miles between himself and the cottage before slowing his pace. When he got back to where he’d shifted, he dug in the earth to uncover his clothing, shook the dirt off, and changed back.
    Charlee clearly cared about Jane’s well-being, and Anthony didn’t seem bent on her destruction either. If he let her go, she might be safe. But he knew she’d never be safe as long as she was anywhere near the vampires. Even if Anthony was willing, he couldn’t constantly run interference for her. Cole could. What place could be safer than the hive?
    He dressed and pulled a talisman from his pocket. It was a shiny golden stone on top of a disk with runic markings. The stone could be turned like a crude combination lock. The disk had a hole in one end where a strap of leather went through it to make a necklace.
    Cole slipped it over his head and moved to a secluded spot. When he was sure he was alone, he turned the stone in the combination. A shimmery film appeared in front of him, like a small segment of the world had been wrapped in saran wrap. He stepped through the doorway, and the film dissolved behind him.
    The demon dimension was always a shock when he crossed into it. Not so much because it was flaming hellfire and such––it wasn’t––but because it was so normal.
    It felt like stepping into the past with cobblestone paths and street fair music playing in the distance. There was a market where giant colorful tents lined the streets. The sounds and smells of sex were strong in the air, and Cole growled.
    This was where the incubi and succubi lived. Male and female sex demons. They were similar to the vampires but could be corporeal or non-corporeal. Incubi often stole into women’s dreams or seduced them when awake to feed their insatiable hunger. When they weren’t feeding, and clearly often when they were, they hopped over to one of the demon