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the damn phone?”
    Sighing, I pinched the bridge of my nose. “I did something sort of stupid and Colleen had to give me a healing tonic. I didn’t hear the phone.”
    Silence.
    Complete silence.
    Finally, in a low, flat voice, Damon said, “What did you do?”
    “I hit that wolf bitch Megan in the face and broke my hand. The bones were knitting together by the time I got here and I need my hands. Colleen had to rebreak the bones.”
    I heard something thud. I think he might have been hitting his head on something.
    “Are you banging your head on the wall?”
    “No. My fist. Why did you hit Megan?”
    I picked up a pen and absently started to sketch on the notepad I kept by the phone. “You ever met any of the wolves that live around Gatlinburg?”
    “No. I recall telling you they were fucked up. I’d rather not meet the sick bastards…unless I need to kill them.”
    “They are sick, but no. You don’t need to kill them,” I said quietly. “Remember my friend, TJ?”
    The thudding on the other end of the line stopped. “Yes.”
    “I think I met her Alpha. Megan, precious little sweetheart that she is, told me that none of the other wolf packs are going to do anything about him as long as he stays on his mountain. He can keep on torturing the people under his care…after all, they are stupid enough to stay,” I said flatly. The sword I’d doodled on the piece of paper didn’t look quite right. I wanted a new one. Not to replace mine, but a shorter blade, an extra one. Scratching it out, I started over. “She tells me this, so I hit her. End of story.”
    “One question.”
    I tried a different guard. “And that question is…?”
    “Did she touch you?”
    I narrowed my eyes as the design of the blade started to settle in my head. “That’s not entirely fair, you know. I did hit her.”
    “I don’t give a fuck if it’s fair. Did she touch you?”
    “No. I think she was thinking about it. I pulled a blade, told her we could go a round, but we had an audience and I guess she saw the wisdom of not doing that.” There was no reason for him to know anything more, really. I’d handled it. “She walked away. It’s done.”
    He was quiet for a moment and then said, “Dinner tonight. I’m cooking.”
    I ran my tongue over my teeth. “How about we go out instead?” If he came over, we’d just end up in bed within five minutes and I’d probably have to listen to him snarl at me for thirty minutes afterward. At least if we went out, maybe we could actually talk and he’d calm down a little first.
    “Kit…”
    “Come on.” I gave the blade a critical study. I usually went for more of a rapier-style than the leaf-blade, but that wasn’t fitting what I had in mind this time. It was finally starting to take form—I could almost see it coming together, too. Might see if somebody could do the sword for me, if I could get it right. “We haven’t gone out in a while.”
    “Fine,” he muttered. “Just at Drake’s, though. Got it?”
    “That works.” Drake’s was the only place that would work, really. It was a local shapeshifter hangout, a place that served good food, and lots of it. Plus, Drake let me keep my sword. Everybody else made me take it off. I hated that.
    “Eight o’clock,” Damon told me.
    “Yes, sir, Cap-i-tan.”
    “See you, baby girl.” His voice dropped to a smoky drawl and I found myself grinning again. I didn’t notice that Doyle was watching me until I went to hang up the phone.
    “You know, if she’d hit you, Damon would be cleaning up a mess you caused, all because you’re a fucking idiot,” Doyle snapped.
    “Oh, bite me.” I shoved away from the counter and then stopped, glaring at the sword he held. “Put my blade up.”
    It wasn’t my sword.
    It was one of the practice blades I’d picked up for Damon. He had said something about learning how and I’d thought he was teasing, but then he said it again and I realized he was serious. He’d never be a