Free Waiting for Darkness (Blood Martyr) by Fionn Jameson

ordered his lackeys to burn Club Dragonne down to the ground.
    He stared down at the girls in his arms and then back at me. His eyes flashed with just a taste of ochre. The Weres around him visibly bristled.
    Oops. Probably could've done away with the last sentence.
    I just made a grave mistake.
    He was going to change. If I didn’t tread carefully, he would shift into a wolf—and so would his entire pack. That was thirty werewolves, plus one alpha male who, when shifted, towered over eight feet on his hind legs.
    I shouldn ’t have opened the club.
    Like an idiot, I thought I could somehow placate both Were clans. Now, with one wrong word, I possibly condemned over seventy people to their deaths, or at the very least, grievous harm. And that wasn ’t even counting what they’d do to me .
    Eileen ’s intake of breath reached me just before a hand touched my shoulder. The scent of peppermint hit my nose, and the expression on Phoenix’s face darkened further.
    Oh, shit and damnation.
    “What seems to be the problem?” Kieran’s hand slid down to my waist. He drew me close, melding us at the hip as if we were Siamese twins. “You giving my girlfriend any trouble, Phoenix?”
    I didn ’t know what to say. I didn’t know what to do. I mean, what is a person supposed to do or say in a situation like this? I looked up at Kieran, trying to figure out what he had in mind. A pleasant smile graced his face, like he was talking to a friend instead of someone who swore to rip his heart out and then feed it to the vultures.
    Phoenix pus hed the teens from his lap and stood up, dusting the front of his pants. “Well, well, well, look what the cat dragged in. If it isn’t Mr. I-Fuck-My-Own-Mother Kieran Black.”
    Kieran ’s smile never faded. If anything, it grew in intensity. “Well, I’m far better off than the poor pup who still gets banged by his own dad. Tell me, how is he? Still poking away at you, I guess?”
    Laughter sounded behind me. Presumably, Kieran had not come alone.
    Phoenix didn’t rise to the bait, but instead nodded to the floor. “Seems like there ain’t no one here, but yours and mine.”
    And he was right.
    The floor was completely void of people. Well, humans in any case.
    My bouncers, having a better grasp of the situation than I did, hustled everyone out post-haste as soon as Kieran an d his pack walked through the double doors.
    Even Ramirez was gone. But if he was gone, why the bloody hell did he leave the goddamn music on?
    I turned to Kieran. “I certainly hope you’re not thinking of trashing this place,” I whispered, trying to make it look like I was whispering sweet-nothings into his ear, although the probability of me doing something like that in a circumstance like this was zilch. “Because, let me tell me you something, if you so much as ruin a fucking bar stool, I’m going to carve you to bits. And that’s after I make you pay for it.”
    “ And I love you, too, sweetie, but now is not the time for that,” he said, shutting me up effectively. He waved a hand behind him.
    A rush of air whooshed past me as a large mass of thugs, punks, and hoo dlums materialized behind us, closing ranks like an army battalion. They made the number of Phoenix’s pack look small by comparison. That made me feel better, if just a little bit. Maybe now the stupid git would actually take a hint and retreat. And preferably, when they did end up fighting, it wouldn’t be in my club.
    “ Quality over quantity, Kieran.” Phoenix shook his head. “When will you ever learn?”
    Kieran grinned, well, wolfishly. “ I know. Quality over quantity.”
    His men cheered raucously, shouting obsce nities at Phoenix’s pack. His pack didn’t take it well. Some of them mumbled amongst themselves, and a few cracked their knuckles in an ominous way.
    It all felt staged, like watching the fight scene in West Side Story.
    “Here? You were always such an impatient prick, Kieran.” Phoenix slipped out of his