jaunt undertaken for the purpose ofeating pizza and those "hot-dog" things, taking in a fewpunk concerts, adding to her aunt-shocking wardrobe,and basically distracting her mind from the situation athome. The last thing she needed was a case ofunrequited lust for a werewolf with an attitude. In contrastto the rest of her family, Fiona wasn't the fuck-and-fleetype. She liked to be able to remember the names of themen she slept with, and she liked it better if she spentmore than a few minutes of non-naked time with thembefore and after. Since that wasn't possible here,
everyone was probably better off if she just kept her
hormones to herself.
She was debating the merits of indulging in a healthypout when a teeth-rattling slam broke the silence,followed closely by the thunder of footsteps on the stairs. She jumped at the initial noise, her gaze shooting to Walker's face. He looked back blandly and pushed lazilyto his feet. If the two of them were about to be attackedby another demon, the werewolf seemed to be taking itwell.
He was standing facing the top of the stairs when a blurof blue denim and black cotton came charging throughand skidding to a stop in front of him.
Walker looked at the clock above the stairs. "That wasalmost twenty-two minutes."
"I'd have made it in fifteen, but that would have been
without clothes. And it's chilly out there."
Fiona looked at the newcomer and raised an eyebrow.
This was who Walker called in a crisis?
She couldn't call herself an expert in mortal growthpatterns or anything, but if she had to judge, Fionawouldn't put the boy's age at all that far pastadolescence. He looked like a college kid, all lean andlanky, like he'd just finished growing, but his weight hadn'tcaught up yet with his height. He stood an inch or twoshorter than Walker, skimming right under six feetmaybe, and had lightly freckled skin, disheveled brownhair, and sparkling eyes in that light amber brown socommon in Lupines.
Glancing back and forth between the two figures, Fionafrowned. They shared more than that one similarity, infact. She saw something around the shape of the eyesand the set of the jaw that told her these men were morethan acquaintances.
Eyes narrowing, she pushed to her feet, immediatelydrawing the attention of the young werewolf. His headturned toward her, eyes and nostrils wideningsimultaneously as he raked his gaze over her and drewher scent in deeply. For a split second she saw an echoof Walker's predatory grin on his face as he took a stepforward, but that was before the older Lupine shot out ahand and grabbed him by the scruff of the neck.
"If you so much as drool on her, I will kick your ass into
next semester. Got it, Jake?"
"Aw, but Uncle—"
He gave a shake before returning the teenager to hisfeet. "Off-limits, Jake. I mean it."
"Why?" Jake seemed smart enough—or maybe un- suicidal enough—not to make another move toward Fiona, but he didn't give in easily. He stood his ground warily. "It's not like you marked her or anything. I mean, yeah, you touched her, but look at her. Who wouldn't?"
"Um, excuse me." Fiona raised her hand and waved it above her head. "Talking about an actual person here. I don't appreciate being fought over like some sort of bone."
Jake turned and looked into her eyes for the first time, hisgrin all charm and energy and youthful lust. "More like a
roast, actually. A nice, juicy one."
Walker snarled, not the kind he'd used to let Fiona knowshe'd been irritating him for most of the night, but a real,honest-to-goddess, dog-in-the-manger growl. "Off. Limits."
For a minute Fiona thought Jake might take his life intohis hands and push the issue, but apparently youthhadn't deactivated all of his brain cells. The two menstared at each other silently until Jake broke down andlooked away, turning his head into what looked like areally uncomfortable position. It took Fiona a second torealize the significance of the tilt. It left his throatcompletely
William K. Klingaman, Nicholas P. Klingaman
John McEnroe;James Kaplan