"You're the one who should be afraid," she said finally, letting her matter-of-fact voice carry the message she wanted to give him-that she wasn't afraid of him. Because she was afraid of him, she couldn't tell him she wasn't. But she could lie with the truth and make it stick.
"If you touch me, Charles will hunt you down and eat your marrow while you are still alive to scream." She called upon her two acting classes and let her mouth turn up. "I'll be happy to watch." She licked her lips.
The smile dropped off his face, and he growled.
She wasn't helpless, not like she'd been in Chicago when Justin hunted her down-or later, when the pack helped subdue her to his will. Here, the only other person in the room was Ric-and he would help her, not Chastel. Chastel would best her, probably best them both. But she would make sure he was hurt-and then Charles would kill him. Her wolf approved, and her fear slid away, leaving her balanced lightly on the balls of her feet and ready for blood and death.
There was only now, between this breath and the next-and that left no time for fear.
"Your vampire was lovely. She died too quickly." Anna imitated the motion she'd used to snap the woman's neck. "Hopefully you'll make a better show."
"My vampire?" He dismissed her words with an impatient hand. "You are a fool, and your mate is a thug, lacking in intelligence. Nothing but his father's lapdog, who fetches and kills on command."
She let her smile bloom. "Is that what you think? How foolish of you."
With the hand that the Frenchman couldn't see, Ric gestured sharply, trying to get her to stop baiting the Beast. She knew it was stupid, but Ric couldn't know that her alternative was cowering in a corner. So she baited him.
"Salope," Chastel snarled.
She knew that much French. "Thank you."
And suddenly, because she had neither seen nor heard him, Charles was there, standing directly behind Chastel. "Be careful whom you call a bitch, Jean, mon cher," he said in a voice that was too calm to be believable. "Someone might feel it was an insult."
Chastel turned around, giving Anna his back so he could face the more dangerous one. "Ah, here he is. Your woman tells me you will hunt me down and eat my marrow while I live."
"Did she?" Charles looked at her, and she saw the approval in his face. She doubted anyone else would have read anything at all. His voice was a caress, just for her. "Would you like that, love?"
She clasped her hands under her chin in her best silent-film-star pose. "Only if I can watch."
Charles laughed and, on the tail end of the sound, rounded on Chastel, using the motion to place himself between the Frenchman and Anna-and he wasn't laughing at all. "Go."
She couldn't see her mate's face, but she saw Chastel flinch and drop his eyes. His hands fisted, but it didn't keep him from taking a step back. With a low oath, he turned and stalked away.
Charles tilted his head, obviously listening to Chastel leave.
"While he was still alive?" he said.
"Women are the bloodthirsty sex," said Ric sadly. "We get the reputation, but it is only because the women stand behind us, and say, 'Kill it. Squish it.' "
Anna thought it was time for formal introductions. "Charles, this is Ric-I'm sorry, I didn't catch your last name."
Ric hopped off the desk, where he'd been crouched and ready to pounce if needed, and held out his hand. "Postinger. Heinrich Postinger."
Charles shook his hand. "I am Charles Cornick."
Ric looked at Anna. "Your defiance is admirable, but it was not the most brilliant thing I've ever seen anyone do. He's going to come after you now. He must do this."
"Ric is a psychologist," Anna explained.
"He was going to go after her no matter what she did," said Charles.
Anna grinned. "There's a certain satisfaction in knowing that I deserve it, you know? Better than thinking he's coming after me because I ran like a chicken."
Charles kissed her. "Yes," he said, pulling his mouth away. "There is that, isn't there? I have to go back- everyone is still in the auditorium waiting on me. Would you please lock the door this time? It doesn't do you any good hanging open so anyone can walk in, O-Woman-Who-is-Not-a-Chicken."
"Of course." And with a sudden burst of confidence, she rose on her toes and kissed his chin-which was as high as she could manage. He didn't help, but his eyes were smiling when she finished.
"Good," he said, though whether to the kiss or to her agreement to lock the door he left deliberately up in the air.
He'd reached the door when she remembered there was something he should know. "He didn't know anything about the vampires."
When Charles looked back at her, she said, "I told him I killed one of his vampires, and he didn't have any idea what I was talking about."
"Chastel never was a good suspect for bringing in vampires," Charles said. "But it is good to know for sure."
He smiled at her. Then, with a nod at Ric, he left, shutting the door behind him. She waited a moment.
"Anna." Charles's voice carried through the metal door, and so did the exasperation.
She grinned at Ric and turned the dead bolt. Charles tapped the door and left. She couldn't hear him, but she could feel him move farther away from her.
It had felt good to defend herself against Chastel, even if it was only with words. She was tired of being afraid of her own shadow-and for a little while she hadn't been afraid at all. She liked it.
With the fae supervising the hunt, not to mention Charles observing (he wouldn't join the hunt; like Angus, he was one of the hosts), she would be as safe there as she would ever be surrounded by Alphas.
She turned to Ric. "If your Alpha agrees to help play bodyguard, I'd love to join the hunt tonight."
He nodded. "I'll ask him."
SUNNY frowned at the nail she'd chipped as she took the elevator down to the parking garage. Arthur was tied up in werewolf functions tonight, so she'd taken the opportunity to have dinner with some friends.
She didn't have any close female friends-it is a hard thing not to tell a friend that the reason your husband looks so young is because he's a werewolf. And friends you have for a long time tend to notice things like your husband's not aging at all. So she had condos in various cities, and when she'd lived in a place off and on for a decade or so, she would uproot and move somewhere no one knew her. She'd write letters or e-mails for a few months, then let the friendship drift away.
These women she'd known for a couple of years, casual friends who liked to go out without husband or boyfriend once in a while and talk girl stuff. She'd met them at the gym, and they shared no real interests, but they were smart, funny, and easy to talk to on a superficial level. They made her feel connected, not so alone.