Imre: Drago Knights MC (Mating Fever) by Saranna DeWylde

Author:Saranna DeWylde [DeWylde, Saranna]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Corvus Corax LLC
Published: 2016-04-07T22:00:00+00:00

Chapter 6

He left Aranka at the crypt to follow up with Pim, but he didn’t leave her without a mission. She had access to all of the software to ferret out Pim’s financial records and a hack into the Loup Marais traffic cams and police database.

Imre returned to the last place Pim had parked his boat, and no surprise, it wasn’t there. But what was there was blood. It wasn’t a lot, but enough that he could smell it.

The quickest route to finding Pim would be to take to the skies, but that wasn’t an option in the daylight.

He also smelled wolves. He could track them more easily on the ground than the gold in Pim’s paint job. So he followed the scent.

His phone buzzed in his pocket.

It was Pim with the meet time. Eight at Devil’s Due, a bar that doubled as the Drago Knights MC clubhouse.

He wondered just how deep this chapter of the Knights had been compromised. He remembered what he’d said not too long ago when they’d been fighting ghouls—how horrible it would be to have to put down one of your own.

Imre had the feeling he was going to know exactly what that was like.

He followed the scent of the wolves until they became the scents of men. It was no surprise that the scent led him deep into the swamp, into the opposite direction he and Aranka had taken the night before.

The trail led him to a small community of tiny cabins all raised up on docks. From the smell of it, they didn’t seem to be the werewolves associated with the Headhunters, but the loup garou, something all together different.

An old woman came out of the nicest hut and she looked right at him. He should’ve known she’d be able to smell him, too.

She wore a dress that had probably been sewn when he’d been hatched. Her hair was long and white, flowing free down her back. Various charms and tiny bottles had been woven into the mass, and she had the triplicate moon goddess tattooed on her forehead in blue ink. She motioned for him to come to her.

A large male exited the house behind her and he lifted his head to scent the air. When Imre’s scent hit him, the Change came over him immediately and he leapt toward Imre.

The old woman grabbed the wolf by the scruff and floored him, her bare foot on his throat until he yelped. She never changed form.

She motioned to him again.

Come.

He could hear her inside his head. This was old school hoodoo and Imre knew to give it, and the woman the proper respect. He’d never had trouble with humility. He wasn’t an Alpha and had nothing to prove.

At least not to these people.

This wasn’t his realm. He was a guest in theirs. So he bowed his head and held out his hands, palms up, and approached as the old woman had bidden him.

People emerged from their cabins, families with children, and natural wolves moved among them.

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