Moon Glamour by Aimee Easterling (books to read to be successful TXT) 📕

Then:

Ryder: Could there be fae present now?

Lupe: Unlikely. I was in South America last Samhain, but Rogers reported an easy night in this zone. More likely a Sleeper has been working on this pack all year. Did you notice the basement is just under twelve months old?

Tank: I did.

A pause, then:

Butch: Turning in.

Ryder: Ditto.

Lupe: Good night, everyone.

Tank: Athena?

Ten minutes later:

Tank: Athena?

That message had been sent nine minutes ago. And, even as I started to type, the phone vibrated again.

Tank: Athena?

As I read, my feet carried me down the hall away from both obvious options. Not toward the basement or the front door, but past the banquet hall then curving left.

Because something had been niggling at me ever since Butch didn’t show up at dinner. His astonishing facility with swords and his knowledge of the fae’s aversion to metal. His refusal to share his deepest secret. The gloves he wore the entire time he was ferrying me around then took off when we got to camp.

At camp, the doors were simple wooden latches. We’d eaten finger food with no need for utensils. The only metal was the grilling supplies Tank had handled.

Lupe was so certain there couldn’t be fae here, but the available data added up to one obvious conclusion. Butch isn’t a werewolf, I typed. He’s one of the fae. Or at least a Sleeper. I’m in his room. If you get this, I need help.

I left the message on the screen but didn’t tap the arrow to send it. Instead, I eased open the door of Butch’s bedroom, unsurprised to find that he’d merited an abode with windows, curtains, a desk, a bed.

The shape beneath the covers appeared to be sleeping, but I held my breath anyway. Eased inside, using a hint of my wolf’s ability in order to make my footfalls as silent as if we were in the forest hunting game.

Butch was facing the wall, everything but his head covered by a quilt embroidered with vines, birds, and flowers. Quite a contrast to the faded, grubby coverlet I’d been granted. Of course, a fae would have been able to manipulate Rowan’s pack into giving him the best.

In one hand, my thumb hovered above the send arrow on my cell phone. My other hand gripped the salt shaker, ready for a repeat of the same test Rowan had just passed.

But I didn’t have time to throw any salt around. Because Butch rolled over, the scent of sun-sweetened peaches rising in waves off him.

Or, rather, off her. Because this wasn’t Butch. This was Marina.

“Little wolf. I wondered how long it would take you to guess.”

Chapter 32

My thumb fell onto the touchscreen. I didn’t toss the salt, however. Instead, I inched backwards, buying time for Tank to come to my assistance. “You aren’t Butch.” I shook my head, trying to make sense of inconsistencies. “That’s not possible. I saw both of you at the same time.”

“At Harper’s school?” Marina swung her legs out from under the covers. Despite having ostensibly been sleeping, her pajamas were uncreased and perfect. Silk and unisex, they would have looked as good on Butch as they did on her.

“Yes,” I agreed.

The odor of peaches intensified. “Appearances can be deceiving.”

As she spoke, the phone vibrated in my hand. I didn’t glance down, but Marina’s gaze flew to it anyway. Her eyes narrowed. “I told them to remove all of your electronics. Give me that.”

If she wanted my phone, I wasn’t handing it over. So much for a pleasant conversation. I straightened my shoulders, readying the salt shaker. “No.”

And now I heard a soft but solid thud below me. Had Ryder found time to pick his lock and open Tank’s door already? Were team mates other than Tank even awake to assist us? Or was Marina drawing Rowan’s wolves toward us using the McCallister pack bond?

“Why did you want me in Rowan’s bedroom?” I asked, trying to buy another minute. I had to trust that the sound in the basement pointed to pending assistance. Or, if it didn’t, that Tank would find a way to overtake whoever was coming our way. “I’m guessing there’s nothing here to steal.”

Marina licked her lips, the gesture unconscious. As if she could taste the power of McCallister pack bonds. “Of course there’s something here to steal. So much of it.”

As she spoke, her hand lashed out like a snake, latching onto my shoulder. I had no idea how she’d gotten so close. One minute ago, she’d been on the other side of the room. The next, she had me in a superhuman grip.

Pain and surprise opened my fingers. The salt shaker struck the floor with a dull clatter. My cell phone landed six inches away.

I’d thought I was the one stalling, but Marina had been hunting this entire time. And she’d won.

Now I had no weapons beyond my wolf. My wolf and my hope that team mates could arrive before it was too late to save me.

I drew my inner beast upwards...

...then stopped as Tank’s voice emerged from the open door.

“BUTCH. DROP HER.”

If I’d thought my wolf was close to the surface, Tank’s was ten times closer. His voice rasped out halfway to a lupine growl. Despite being in the clutches of the fae, my shoulders relaxed away from my ears.

“Athena appears addled,” Marina/Butch answered. It was disconcerting, hearing a masculine voice emerge from this person I knew was a woman. Even more disconcerting not to smell a lie in the words.

But I was addled. Addled by the fae’s grip. By the fact that when I tried to speak, Marina’s hand clenched down so hard my teeth bit into my tongue.

“Like the time I borrowed your car?” Tank’s voice was wry and I could almost hear his head shake dismissively. Was that how he remembered the night of our first kiss? Me being addled? I winced.

Marina took in my reaction and her teeth bared in a smile. “Yes. Exactly like