Ronan eased into one of the shadowed crooks of Club Red, his keen hearing tuning that thunderous Rob Zombie reverberation to a distant part of his senses, narrowing more intently to the wayward chatter of the many out-of-towners occupying his bar.

          He did a quick perusal, his peculiar eyes glinting suspiciously of something beastly within the enveloping shadows, going unbeknownst to the unsuspecting humans.

          He grimaced at the many unfamiliar faces crowding his quarters. He much preferred the drunken regulars as opposed to the rowdy newbies looking for a brief, good time.

          Groaning inwardly, he braced his weight against a slip of bar, the same bar he encountered an enticing red dress.

          He dipped his head with a muttered – damn.

          She was an aphrodisiac – his most preferred and intoxicating narcotic that he simply couldn’t dispel.

          He couldn’t deny the attraction. What man wouldn’t be drawn by the allure of those haunting green eyes?

          He was beginning to suspect that this attraction, these unwarranted and most perilous feelings, went far deeper than he deemed possible. Kate Channing was undeniably human – fragile in all her green eyes and soft, pliant lips.

          These feelings for her seem to magnify the longer he kept his distance and they were becoming increasingly intolerable to ignore.

          So encased within the depths of his thoughts, he at first hadn’t detected that eminent lone scent, one that foretold of a certain, rogue wolf.

          He pushed away from the bar and averted a hardening, icy glare to the floor below. He inhaled deeply, his chest rising with the accelerated breath, confirming that scent with a throaty growl.

          The women lining the dance floor seem to unconsciously part ways, their eyes fastened headedly to the statuesque frame striding through.

          The streaming red lights flickered fleetingly over black hair smoothed back at the top and cropped on either side. The shadows of the room clung to the hardened contours of his face further intensifying those cruel, chiseled lines.

          He’d chosen a preferred color of choice among the loup-garou – donned in black from his head to the steel-toed boots on his feet. To the humans, he resonated ‘bad-ass’, with the beginnings of a tribal tattoo peeking out from the collar of his leather jacket, that Ronan knew ran the length of his left arm.

          He felt another growl rise in his throat and settle there distastefully as steel eyes clashed with eyes of a sage green, outlined in a silvery gray.

          Nico.

          And the bastard wasn’t alone. Von trailed closely behind, including another wolf whose loyalty had been questionable, until now.

          Steely eyes locked sharply on Draven.

          Traitor.

          He caught eyes with Alaric behind the bar – his scowl meaningful.

          Alaric appeared just as surprised at Nico’s presence. The wolf had never entered his place of business, so why now?

          He gave Alaric a curt nod and stepped away from the bar, moving to settle into a leather chair.

          Nico greeted him with a sly, distrustful grin as they reached his level, those steel-toed boots colliding steadily with the marbled floor. He peeled his muscled forearms from the leather jacket weighing his shoulders and crossed to settle the opposite of him.

          Ronan raised a steely gaze to the other two who noticeably kept their distance, Von glaring from beneath deep-set brows and Draven avoiding his stare altogether.

          Damn cowards.

          “What the hell do you want?” Ronan sneered icily, watching Nico suspiciously as the wolf lounged comfortably in the leather, extending his forearms on either side in a languished manner.

          A server suddenly appeared and by the way her eyes fastened over Nico, she was quite eager to take his order. “What can I get you, handsome?” she purred.

          “Bourbon.” He said with a smirk, maintaining Ronan’s unyielding glare.

          “Find it elsewhere.” Ronan snarled in a deep baritone, the muscle at his jaw flexing taut.

          Nico’s wryly grin curved, revealing the slight cruelty there. “That’s no way to treat a paying customer.”

          The server quickly sashayed away, clearly unnerved by the bristling tension.

          “This is my place of business, Roux.” Ronan said with an ominous hiss, “Whatever your purpose for being here – can wait till the next moon.” Steely eyes swept from those icy ones to the two wolves lingering in the rearward, “And I don’t particularly like traitors in my bar.”

          Nico smirked, the hardened lines of his face contorting with feigned skepticism, “I can assure you, all is as it should be.”

          “All but your presence in my bar.” Ronan retorted dryly, gray eyes sharpening.

          What the hell was Roux up too?
          The server appeared with the Bourbon and dismissing the shot glasses, Nico took a hefty swig from the bottle. The hot liquor burned a swift, satisfying path down his throat, prompting a sudden fiery glow to burnish fiercely behind his sage eyes, revealing the beast that dwelled within.

          He slammed the bottle down, dispersing some of the distilled spirit onto the tabletop as he leaned forward his eyes taking on a granite haze. “I want rank.” He growled viciously, his sage eyes altering white.

          Ronan felt his mouth twist, “Is that a challenge, Roux?”

          His expression blackened, “You know it is.”

          Ronan felt his muscles tightening, the blood in his veins hastening with a surge of adrenaline, the type strictly immortal – belonging to the beast.

          He squared his shoulders, maintaining that white stare brimmed with fury. “You’ve had ample opportunity. Instead, you sick your lapdogs on me.” He snarled rigidly, “You lack the courage you speak so loosely. You want my pack? Fight for it.” He stood and leveled an icy, calculating glare on his opposed. “Otherwise, tuck your tail where it belongs and get the fuck out of my bar.”

          Nico’s expression blackened with a moments rage as he arose from his seat. As he did, Von and Draven advanced forward. Ronan braced himself for an attack, something he had anticipated, but Nico suddenly stilled them with a hand.

          It was only then Ronan realized a Micah positioned at the top of the stairs, his eyes illuminated with his beast, with a riled and eager Alaric at rear.

          Nico’s eyes brightened considerably with the malice suppressed there, “Brace for hell, Morrissey.”

          Ronan clenched his jaw, feeling the muscle there tick with barely refrained menace. “I’m counting on it.”

          “What the hell was that about?” Micah demanded, moving to stand over Ronan as he snatched the forgotten Bourbon, draining its contents to quell the anger that bristled beneath his skin.

          “All these years of running with the pack, he chooses now to challenge you? What’s changed?” Alaric questioned, his brows furrowing.

          “Me.” Ronan muttered, rising from the empty bottle to cross to the steel bar, his eyes sweeping the bustling humans below, profoundly unaware of the wolves that reigned on there terrain. “My lack in choosing a mate has given him reason to believe he has plausible justification in challenging me, and believes others will follow in union.” 

          Ronan felt the sudden unease teeming Micah’s frame as his Beta fell in beside him, “Have you not chosen a female?”

          His mouth tightened into a grim line as he gripped the steel beneath him, “They do not interest me.”

          “Ronan, others will uphold his threats.” Alaric warned.

          He straightened and turned to meet there intense stares head-on, “Do you?”

           Alaric shifted uneasily on his hunches, sweeping his eyes between his Alpha and Micah. He raised his chin and met Ronan’s unwavering, piercing stare. “You’ve done substantial things for this pack. You need not question my allegiance.”
          “Nico cannot be trusted.” Micah intervened, “He’s bloodthirsty and will wreck the peace that which you’ve maintained.”

          “Where’s the damn bartender!” someone exclaimed from the bar.

          Alaric averted his attention to the number of drunks crowding his post and straightened to say lastly, “Willow and I will run with you. That is where our loyalty will remain.” He vowed before heading downstairs.

          Micah turned to Ronan once they were alone, “Why have you not chosen a mate, Ron?” he fell silent a moment, studying his Alpha intently, “Does this have anything to do with that human?”        

          Ronan stiffened, steely eyes clashing sharply with his Beta. “What the hell are you talking about?” he growled ominously. “I told you the woman means nothing to me.”

          “Then why haven’t you chosen –“

          “Back off, Micah!” he snarled, his steely eyes flaring precariously of his beast.

          Micah retreated some, knowing he was treading dangerous ground, but as Ronan’s Beta, he had a responsibility to his Alpha. He’d known Ronan long before his Alpha status. They’d run together since they were pups – a time during his father’s reign. Ronan since had done right by his father’s legacy, as well as the pack.

          He’d long since rid the area of bloodsuckers and proceeded to keep them from feeding in the area. He kept rogues from roaming the turf, wrecking havoc upon the innocent and ensuring their safety as well as the pack.

          Immortals of all kind existed and thrived unbeknownst to the humans inhabiting the earth, but keeping that knowledge obscured was an entire feat all its own.

          The pack abided on one law above all else. Never take a human as your mate. It risked everything that they’ve worked centuries to conceal.

          “I’m not asking as your Beta.” Micah asserted, “I’m asking as your brother.”

          Ronan swept a hand through his tousled mane, “What the hell do you want me to say, Micah?” he rounded sharply to peer more firmly at his Beta, “That I have feelings for a human, despite all odds, that I find it unbearably difficult to stay away from her? Whilst every fiber in my being is demanding I take her, when my sound mind opposes the very idea of it?” he snapped, “You think I don’t know our laws, when it was my father who enforced them?”

          Steely eyes glinted sharply in the dark, “I know the risks, Micah. I’ve tried convincing myself that whatever it is I’m feeling, is nothing short of a one-night stand.”

          “You’ve had countless women, Ron. What is it about this one that attracts you to her?”

          Ronan groaned inwardly, clenching his eyes as the sudden image of Kate arose to mind. Everything about her attracted him to her. The scent of her skin, the smell of her hair and the way she worried her lip whenever he looked upon her; the manner in which she tore her eyes away whilst her heart beat that beautiful rhythm.

          “What of Lorelei?” Micah asked, jarring that image of Kate.

          Ronan met his stern stare, “What of her?” he asked, his brows furrowing.

          Micah inched closer, “Ron, she’s got that scent. She wants you.”

          Ronan straightened at this, his muscles going tense. He’d suspected Lorelei had feelings for him but he hadn’t given it much thought.

          “Her efforts are futile.” He said with a noticeable rigidness, “There are other males to choose from.”

          Micah chuckled then, “As if it were that easy, my brother.” He gripped Ronan’s shoulder in a reassuring manner, “No matter your intentions for the human, I stand by you.” And then with a look of severity, he warned, “But I ask that you consider it deeply.”

            Ronan studied his Beta with a newfound certainty. He’d known all along that he could trust Micah, but until that moment, he just didn’t know how deep that trust ran.

          “Boss?” someone interjected.

          Ronan shifted away from Micah to peer at Jax standing at the top of the stairs. The bouncer nudged his head over his shoulder before saying, “Someone here to see you.”

          He at first hadn’t detected the man standing at his bouncer’s back until Jax moved aside.

          The stranger stepped forward with an ease most men his size lacked. For a moment, Ronan hadn’t recognized the wolf, until the subtle lighting whisked briefly over hair in striking resemblance to his own unruly, golden mane, only paler, and he felt a sudden familiarity, and grinned.

          To most occupying the remnants of his bar, they could’ve easily mistaken the stranger for him – both of similar height and muscle with one slight, noticeable contrast.

          His cutting, chiseled face revealed eyes of pale green, rather than a silvery gray.

          He felt his grin broadened all the more, “Lucan Kirov.”
          Kirov smirked, green eyes glinting astutely, “Cousin.”

          “Movie night?” Julie exclaimed excitedly as she practically bounced over the threshold with an array of new releases in hand.

          Kate laughed and closed the front door behind her, “Depends on the selections.”

          They moved to the kitchen where Julie took up her usual seat as Kate started the popcorn, “No Horror.” She appointed.

          Julie snorted as she displayed each movie along the table’s surface, “Strictly Romance.” She raised one of the picks, “With a hint of Comedy.”

          Kate smiled, “I can do Romantic-Comedy.” She busied herself with the popcorn, grabbing a large bowl suitable for sharing while listening to Julie’s long-winded chatter, something she was growing quite accustomed to liking.

          “So, I have something in mind to ask you.” The sudden severity in Julie’s tone pulled Kate from her popcorn musings.

          She turned around to peer questionably at Julie, “Okay?”

          Julie stood and held up a hand, sending alarming bells off in Kate’s head.       

          Oh, no. Whatever Julie Bennett had in mind certainly didn’t bode well for her.

          “I just need you to be open-minded here.” Julie acquiesced.

          “What have you signed me up for?” Kate asked a bit uneasily.

          Julie bit the corner of her lip, a tall-tale sign that she’d already done whatever she was about to ask, without her consent. “I have a date.”

          Kate frowned, somewhat surprised at this. “That’s great, Jules, but what does this have to do with me?”
          Julie fell silent, a sudden wariness stealing into her cerulean eyes.

          At that, Kate’s stomach plummeted. “Tell me you didn’t set me up on a double date?”

          “Yes but –“

          Kate groaned outwardly and spun about, running her palms the length of her face.

          “Listen – “ Julie beseeched, inching closer.

          “How could you do that?” Kate asked a bit forlornly.

          Julie grasped her shoulders gently, “Look, I’m no therapist, but I can easily see that your past is keeping you from living in the present. I’m not trying to play matchmaker. I just want you to live a little – no regrets.”
          “I’m perfectly content being single. I tried the dating thing, don’t you remember tall, blonde and clearly not my type?” she cursed silently as the sudden image of Ronan arose vastly to mind.

          Julie smiled and eased up on her grip, “I’ll be with you every minute of the date.”

          Kate sighed, “When is it?”   

          “Tomorrow night.”

          “Fine, but never again, understood?”

          Julie nodded, smiling all the more.

          “So, who are they?” Kate asked, attempting enthusiasm.

          Julie’s grin broadened all the more, “Do you remember Jax?”

          Kate frowned, “Who?”

          “Jax – from Club Red?”
          She felt another groan surfacing, “The bouncer?”
          “Yes!”

          She shifted back around to the popcorn, “Are you certain he’s datable?”

          Julie chuckled, “What do you mean?”

          “He’s all…serious.”

          “Only when he’s working, he’s actually very charming.” Julie attested.

          Kate raised her brows with surprise. From what she could remember of the bouncer that night, he’d been somewhat intimidating. And she wondered peculiarly, what was with the men in Asheville? So far, every man she encountered had been formidable.

          Her thoughts betrayed her once more, prompting that image of Ronan Morrissey. What was it about him that lured him to her thoughts?

          She escaped her traitorous notions, not wanting to remember how he’d kissed her with such unexpected tenderness or the feel of his hands in how they’d touched her so sweetly.

          Instead, she forced her attentiveness to another pressing matter and asked, “Who is my date?”

**********