Hiya! I’m here as Holly today. A Few days ago, Grave Witch was released. It’s the 6th story in the Within the Walls series, and while there is a new couple in every book, I recommend reading them in order.   

The people living within the walls in Myrfolk are a tight-knit community of shifters, vampires, and a few magic users, and I love spending time there. It’s a second home in my mind, and I still have several characters I want to give stories.  

I was chatting with my editor, saying I’m thinking about making 2026 a year where I focus on wrapping up series I’ve left hanging, but that I don’t see an end to Within the Walls. There has to be one at some point, but can you ever reach a real HEA when the laws are stacked against you? I mean, my characters find love, happiness, and peace, but should they leave the community, the world is still shit, and I don’t really see a way to change it.  

So I’ll just have to keep adding stories, right? LOL  

In this one, we have Gilbert, a loner vampire, and Kage, a magic user in disguise. Kage is a detective and moved to Myrfolk to follow a lead on a missing blood slave. He’s convinced Gilbert knows something and won’t hesitate to do what needs to be done to find out what. Gilbert only wants to be left alone, but when he realizes Kage won’t, he figures his best shot is to help him. If they can figure out what happened to the missing woman, then maybe Gilbert can go back to his calm, predictable life.  

Read the first chapter below!   

Grave Witch

What does a vampire have to do to be left alone?   

Kage Marrone has been looking for a magic user who’s been missing for years. His latest lead takes him to Myrfolk, where he’s pretending to be human while working as a detective. When a witness claims to have seen a vampire steal a motorbike, he sees his chance to get inside the walls of the local supernatural community and ask questions.   

Gilbert Neumann only wants to be left alone. He has a house within the walls, and the more days he can spend sitting on his wrap-around porch looking out over his garden and not talk to anyone, the better.    

Kage is sure Gilbert knows something. He’s a vampire, and you can’t trust vampires. Plus, he lets a detail slip that has Kage convinced he knows more than he lets on. All Gilbert wanted to do was to help, not have a cop harassing him. Maybe the best thing he can do is help Kage find the person he’s looking for. It should give him his calm life back, right?

Buy Links:

Paranormal gay romance: 54,175 words

JMS Books :: Amazon

Chapter 1

Detective Kage Marrone stood with his back straight and his expression neutral while Captain Hamilton harped on. He’d been in Myrfolk for six months now, and it was like any other small town—filled with prejudice and people who took themselves too seriously. What made it stand out was how much time he spent investigating shifters and vampires.

Hamilton, the police captain, had made it clear from the beginning that Kage’s tasks included more than simply doing his job. He was to report on his partner as well. It didn’t make for a good working climate. At first, he hadn’t cared. Snitching on one human to another was immaterial. He would be here for a short time in any case. But he was starting to regret going along with it.

Christopherson and Hamilton were like oil and water, and Kage often wished Christopherson could stop antagonizing him, so they could get through one fucking workday without conflict, but he never did. He called Hamilton on his bullshit every day. Part of Kage admired it. The other fuckers in this department licked Hamilton’s ass every chance they got, and it had gone to his head, but for one day—one fucking day—he wanted to go home at the end of his shift instead of being called into Hamilton’s office.

Christopherson wasn’t stupid. He was well aware of something going on. In the beginning, he’d been, perhaps not warm, but open toward Kage. Nowadays, they never spoke about anything not related to the case they were working.

Christopherson had most likely figured out Kage was reporting everything he said back to Hamilton, so he couldn’t blame him, but damn, it made work boring.

“Do you think it’s true?”

Kage blinked to get back to the here and now. “Do I think what is true, sir?” Fuck, he knew better than to zone out.

“Christopherson selling his blood to the vampires.”

Eh… What? “Selling?” The pay was pretty crappy, but would Christopherson sell his blood? He was friendly toward the supes, something Kage appreciated. Most humans these days weren’t, so he should thank his lucky stars he’d been settled with one who treated supernaturals like people. Too bad he’d fucked it up by becoming the department snitch.

“I want you to follow him.”

Oh, hell no. “It’s not illegal to give blood to vampires.”

Hamilton’s eyes narrowed. “We can’t have a detective who’s under the influence of monsters.”

“I don’t think—”

“I know he’s Gertrude’s pet, but when I asked if he was dating her, he told me he was a fucking cock sucker, and around here it’s almost worse than fucking a corpse, so I don’t think he’s lying.”

Kage blinked. “Eh…” There was so much to unpack there. Christopherson was gay, it was never something he’d hidden, but vampires weren’t dead. They were made, yes, but they were living, breathing beings.

“I don’t have time to follow Christopherson around. It’s not my job to do so. I’ll tell you if he does something suspicious on the clock, but my free time is my own, and I’m not gonna waste it following Christopherson around.” He’d come here to follow up on a lead, and he needed all his free time to do it.

“Do you remember what I told you when I hired you?” Hamilton was flushed red with anger.

“I am doing what you told me to, but I draw the line at following Christopherson around outside of work. I’m keeping an eye on him. I’m reporting to you. Am I not?”

Hamilton’s eyes flashed. “What about his phone?”

Kage took a deep breath. This was ridiculous. Why was he wasting time on these humans? He had a job to do. People were dying, and he needed to stop it. Sometimes he needed the resources being a detective granted him, but it was the only reason he came here every day.

“I will not go through his phone.” Christopherson texted, and sometimes he did it with a soft smile on his lips. Kage was pretty sure there was a special someone or at least a fuck buddy, but he would not check. Reporting his every movement to their boss was invasion enough.

“I know he’s hiding something.”

“He’s doing his job. I know you don’t like him, but he is doing his job. If he’s sexting his boyfriend on his lunch break, I don’t want to read the conversation or look at the dick picks, okay? If he does something he’s not supposed to, I’ll tell you. You know I will.” Or he hoped he believed he would. Christopherson was a good detective. Kage had never caught him doing something he shouldn’t, and he doubted he ever would. It didn’t mean Christopherson was perfect, but he was careful around Kage. Which, given the circumstances, was a good call on his part.

“Fine. How’s the case with the stolen motorcycle coming along?”

How was this his life? “No leads so far.”

“Miles Parrow reported having seen one of the bartenders loitering near the parking lot when he’d been on his break.”

Miles Parrow was the shop manager at Myrfolk’s one and only grocery shop. Kage had had the misfortune of talking to him a few times. He too, for some reason, despised Christopherson. It was interesting. Kage didn’t see why Christopherson had that effect on people. He was fair and straightforward, which made him easy to be around in Kage’s opinion. “Christopherson had a chat with him, and we’re heading to the community first thing tomorrow morning.”

“And give them time to hide the evidence? No, go now.”

It was late. Christopherson had been packing up when Kage came in here, he might have left already. Fuck. “Fine.”

Kage sprinted toward the door, Christopherson had one hand on the door handle, bag slung over his shoulder, and his phone to his ear. He’d removed his tie for the day. Kage sighed.

“Christopherson!”

He turned around, said something into the phone, then held it away from his ear while waiting for Kage to close the distance between them. “We’re heading to the community.” He grimaced to tell him it wasn’t his idea, but Christopherson’s expression didn’t change.

“Tomorrow wasn’t soon enough?”

“He’s afraid evidence will be hidden.”

Christopherson sighed, then he held the phone to his ear. “Sorry, I have to work a little longer.”

Kage could make out a voice on the other end, but not the words.

“Yeah. See you in a bit.” Christopherson hung up and gave Kage an unimpressed look.

“Hot date?”

No change in his expression. Kage guessed he deserved that. He’d never pictured himself as a rat, and he liked to believe he did a good job of not giving Hamilton anything real, but he didn’t blame Christopherson for not wanting to share anything with him.

In other places he’d worked, there had been beers after work, barbecues on the weekends, and so on. Here he was alone. Being alone had never bothered him, but he was fucking lonely, and it was starting to get to him. He never surrounded himself with hoards of people, but no matter where he went, he usually found someone to hang out with when he got lonely. Not here.

* * * *

Gilbert Neumann was up on the wall by the gate, in the section he most often worked when on guard duty. “Car coming.” He looked down at Clara, who was on the ground inside the iron-wrought gate. She’d most likely heard it already. Wolves had better hearing than vampires did, and while she was old, he believed she still picked up on sounds quicker than he did.

She waved a hand and smiled. Her gray hair was tied back in a knot, but there were always a few strands escaping.

They didn’t have many old people within the walls, and maybe he should be concerned about being paired with Clara as often as he was—if something happened, she wasn’t the best backup—but he wasn’t. What she lacked in agility—and in all honesty, she was more agile than most humans and several times stronger despite her age—she made up for in experience. There were few things she hadn’t been through before.

The car came closer, an unmarked cop car. They seldom had visitors out here, and it was a small town. Everyone knew the unmarked cop car was a cop car. “Cops, call Gertrude.”

Clara stepped into the small room underneath him where they normally put deliveries for people to come and pick up. This time of year, there weren’t many grocery orders thanks to Rue and Chaton’s work in the garden and Esme’s ordering dried goods in bulk and selling it at a cheaper price than the grocery store in town.

They’d had a few rough years in the community, but for the first time in a long time, Gilbert was hopeful. Not about the world. It was all going to shit, but life within the walls was getting better. More and more people realized they had to provide for themselves. They couldn’t rely on the outside, and while they were too many on a too small an area of land to ever be self-sufficient, they were making the best out of what they had.

Rue and Chaton grew as many vegetables as they could. Rue was a magic user with an affinity for plants, which helped, and Chaton was into preserving things which came in handy in the winter. Namir was going crazy with chickens, and while they hadn’t seen any eggs yet, Asher, a fellow vampire and Chaton’s partner, had told him the plan was for there to be eggs in the crates as soon as Namir’s chickens started laying.

There were other solutions too. Jasper had built a greenhouse out of old windows, and while it wasn’t big enough to grow things to feed the community, he’d experimented with growing cold-hardy things through the winter and had some success with kale and stuff. Not Gilbert’s favorite, but when hunger clawed in your belly, anything was better than nothing.

The car came to a stop by the gate, and Oscar stepped out—or he guessed he was Detective Christopherson right now. Gilbert jumped down since Clara was still in the room, most likely speaking to Gertrude on the phone.

“Chief.” He nodded at Oscar, then glanced at his work partner and refrained from opening the gate.

“Gilbert.” Oscar nodded. “Calm evening?”

“It was until you showed up.” He didn’t smile. He rarely smiled, and he didn’t see a reason to in this situation.

“Detective Marrone and I need to talk to everyone who tended the bar at The Virgin Drop.” He ended the statement with a wince, and Gilbert slowly raised one eyebrow.

All vampires, apart from Noah and Asher, had worked at The Virgin Drop when it was still up and running. It was a vampire bar, not a blood bar. It had been a blood bar before Gertrude had bought it, but as soon as they’d taken over, they’d made it into an ordinary bar with a vampire theme.

It had been blown to pieces a year ago.

Gilbert kept quiet until Clara exited the room, which was long enough to make both Oscar and Detective Marrone squirm.

“Boss lady will be with us in a minute.” Clara smiled at Oscar. “Having a rough night, dear? You look—” She cut herself off and glanced at Detective Marrone.

“I’m fine, Clara. Believed I’d be done for the day by now, but you know how it is.” Gilbert wondered if there was a conflict between Oscar and the new guy. They stood a little too far apart, were a little too stiff, and while Oscar was pleasant to Clara, he wasn’t smiling the way he normally did.

“Sheriff, to what do we owe the honor?” Gertrude came walking toward the gate, and if there ever had been any doubt about this being an official visit, it had vanished now.

“Sorry to bother you at this time of day, Gertrude. We need to chat to all vampires apart from Asher and Noah.”

Gilbert didn’t change his facial expression, but if Oscar wanted to give his partner the idea he didn’t spend all his free time within the walls, then maybe he should pretend not to know everyone’s name and what they did or had done for a living.

Gertrude’s gaze hardened. “Why?”

“We have a—”

“Ms. Pechtold.” Detective Marrone took a step forward, and Gertrude scrunched her nose. Gilbert pulled in a breath and scented the horrible cologne Oscar always wore when he worked mixed with a strong scent of lemon. Poor shifters. If he could scent it this clearly, they’d be drowning in it.

If Marrone noticed, he pretended not to. “We need to speak to those who worked the bar at The Virgin Drop.”

Gertrude looked at him, then focused on Oscar. “What’s going on?”

To Gilbert’s surprise, Oscar turned a little to conceal his face from Marrone and rolled his eyes, then he spoke in his cop voice. “There is an ongoing investigation, and we have evidence pointing to the community. We need to speak to Gilbert—he gestured at him—Jasper, Gabriel, Lucille, and Alice.”

Gertrude looked at him for a long time. “On community land, and I’m sitting in on the interviews.”

Oscar nodded without so much as looking at Marrone.

“Fine.” Gertrude nodded. “We’ll be in the delivery room.” Then she turned to Clara. “Can you call them here?”

She nodded and gave Oscar a small smile.

“We’ll start with Gilbert.” Gertrude gestured at him. He didn’t want to. Whatever they wanted to pin on him, he hadn’t done it. And while he trusted Oscar not to jump to any conclusions, he didn’t know Marrone.

Hiya! I’m here as Holly today 😊 A couple of days ago, Squirrel Blue, the fourth squirrel story, was released, and I figured I’d share the first chapter with you.  

The day we’re celebrating this time is National Peanut Butter Cookie Day. I don’t think I’ve ever had a peanut butter cookie, but I’m sure they’re great.  

Shun is a squirrel who moves around a lot. He’s traveling together with his cousin, but one day, they’re attacked by a bunch of wolves. Shun is captured, and he has no idea what happened to Deneb, his cousin.  

Shun is taken to a restaurant where they dye his fur blue and crams him into a tiny cage, then he’s taken to a food expo where he’s supposed to play the mascot.  

Amir is at the food expo representing The Howling Moon, the shifter bar where he’s working. He has no idea what he’s doing there since all the visitors are human, and they don’t want human customers. He’s about to skip out of the whole thing when he spots a squirrel in a tiny cage.  

No way he’s leaving without freeing the poor thing.  

As I mentioned above, this is the fourth story in the A Scurry of Squirrels series, and like the previous ones, it’s a fated mates story with a squirrel and a wolf shifter. Read the first chapter below! 

Squirrel Blue

Squirrels do not belong in cages.  

Amir Kaplan works as a chef in a werewolf bar, which is why he’s so surprised when his boss sends him to a food expo for humans. He doesn’t like being around people, which his boss knows, and they don’t want human customers, so why is he there? The moment he spots a blue squirrel in a cage, he forgets all about the why, though.  

Shun Hartman is having a bad day, has had several bad days in a row. He and his squirrel cousin were running in squirrel form when Shun was captured by werewolves. They put him in a cage and dyed his fur blue, and now he’s at some sort of food fair. As if that wasn’t bad enough, there is this guy trying to steal him. Hadn’t the guy been another wolf shifter, he might have been fine with it, but how is he to know which is the better monster?  

Amir refuses to leave the expo without the squirrel. He doesn’t care what conflicts will follow, no squirrel should ever be put in a cage. Shun should run away the moment Amir frees him from the cage, right? No sane squirrel waits around until their werewolf rescuer gets hungry, but why does his heart ache as soon as he’s apart from Amir? 

Buy Links:

Paranormal Gay Romance Book: 34,709 words

JMS Books :: Amazon

Chapter 1

Amir Kaplan looked out over the million booths representing restaurants and coffee shops in the area. He wanted to kill Gideon for sending him here.

It was a food expo with companies from the entire west coast. A yearly event held in Willstead, a place Amir never believed he’d visit. He preferred the woods to the city every day of the week.

He’d left his East Coast pack and moved to Doson a few years ago. Had moved to get away. He couldn’t handle being around too many people, but the Doson pack was small, and while he sometimes got lonely, he enjoyed life here far more than he’d expected to. Well, not today, but he could handle the normal days. Enjoy them too if he was lucky.

Doson was picturesque, and the pack members all had their own houses spread out outside the town center. Back in Kingshill, the pack members had lived together in one big house, and it had all but killed Amir.

He’d constantly been on edge—much like now. He’d told Gideon, his boss, he didn’t do well around people, and yet, he’d sent him here.

A woman with blue hair, two nose piercings, and ridiculously long nails stopped by his table. “The Howling Moon. I’ve been there.”

Amir inhaled—human. “You have?” It was a shifter bar, so Amir didn’t know what the hell Gideon was thinking when he’d booked them a place here. They didn’t want to attract humans, and the majority of the people here—both visitors and exhibitors—were human.

“Yes. It’s the weird place in Doson with the rude bartender.”

Ah… “Yup, that’s the one.”

“I was on a road trip with a friend, and we figured we’d stop for a bite of food.” She raised an eyebrow. “Worst service I’ve ever received.”

Amir nodded. “What about the food?” He took pride in his work. He might mostly flip burgers, but he loved food, loved cooking and baking, though the baking he mostly did at home. It was one of the things he loved the most about having moved to Doson—he had his own kitchen.

She shrugged. “I honestly can’t remember.” She frowned a little. “I think the burger was decent.”

Decent. He wanted to huff.

She drummed a nail against the table. “Right, I’ll be off. I only left my booth for a bathroom break. My boss will slaughter me if he comes by and finds me gone.”

“Which booth is yours? Maybe we can help each other out if we need a break.” Because fucking Gideon had sent him on his own. Anabell was supposed to come too, but something had come up, and instead of canceling, Gideon had told him to solve it as best he could.

Would leaving some fliers out on a table count as best he could? He’d bet it was what Gideon would have done.

She gestured at the corner booth up ahead.

“Squirrel Blue?” Was it why her hair was blue? He liked it. It was a cool color, but a little less cool if it was part of her work outfit.

“Yes, have you heard of it?” She beamed.

“No, sorry.”

She shrugged. “It’s in Fewood. We serve nuts in every meal, so don’t bring anyone allergic.”

Amir nodded. He’d never been to Fewood, but Jyran, Gideon’s mate, went on and on about the shoe store there. “The shoe shop.”

She beamed. “Yeah, it’s decent.”

Hmm, if the shoe store Jyran loved most in the whole wide world was decent, and his burger had been decent, then maybe it had been pretty damn good. He smiled, and she hesitated. Then she twirled a strand of hair between her fingers and popped her hip a little. “You should come check it out.”

Check the booth out, check Squirrel Blue out, or check her out? He’d never been with a human. Werewolf strength was real, so he’d fear hurting them, and what was the use in taking someone to bed if you couldn’t be yourself?

“I’ll be by in a bit.” He gestured at his sad excuse of a booth. Some of the exhibitors had eye-catching decorations, games where you could win a gift card or a free meal or whatnot, or stuff with the company name they gave away. His booth had bare walls and a few fliers on a table.

He didn’t blame people for not stopping to have a look.

The woman hurried away, and a few seconds later, Amir’s phone buzzed. A text.

Gideon: Where are the peanuts?

Amir snorted and typed back: No idea. Ask Jyran.

Jyran was a squirrel shifter, the first squirrel shifter Amir had met, and if someone could misplace nuts, it was him. Or he guessed Dahy and Raaz, the pack’s other two squirrel shifters, were equally good at it. But only one of them was at the bar.

His phone buzzed again.

Gideon: He says he put them in the freezer, but there are no nuts in the freezer.

Amir: I haven’t seen any nuts in the freezer since last month.

The three dots danced a second later.

Gideon: He thinks he put them in one of the bags with fries, but there are no fries.

No fries? There had to be fries. They wouldn’t get through a night without fries.

Amir: Where have all the fries gone? There were several boxes in the walk-in freezer yesterday.

He waited for a reply, but no dots moved on the screen. When seconds bled into a minute, and then five minutes, he pocketed the phone and sighed.

He rearranged the fliers. Maybe he should hurry off and buy some candy or something he could use to lure people in with. A bowl of gummy bears should help.

Then he pictured people sticking their grabby hands in the bowl and scrunched his nose. Nope, it had to be something with a wrapper on. He looked around. It wouldn’t take him many minutes to run into the grocery store across the street. He had his exhibitor pass so he’d get in again without having to stand in line. If there was a line.

He patted his pocket to make sure he had both his phone and the key card to his hotel room. It would not be fun if someone stole it while he was away, then he stepped around the table and headed in the direction of the Squirrel Blue booth.

His steps slowed as he took in the tiny cage on the table in front of the blue-haired woman. There was something blue inside it. His heart sped up and claws threatened to break through. Urgency pulsed through him.

Shit.

It couldn’t be a blue squirrel. It couldn’t. No way. Or if it was, it couldn’t be a real one.

He took a step closer, and a wave of prickling heat washed over him. Fuck, was he allergic to something?

A man bumped into him, and he peeled his lips back to show off his teeth before he realized where he was and swallowed the snarl wanting out. Shit.

His hands were clammy, his head spinning, and it was hard to breathe.

Anaphylaxis shock?

Nah, shifters didn’t have allergies. Had he been drugged somehow? But he hadn’t eaten or drunk anything, and he hadn’t touched anyone other than the asshole who’d bumped into him.

He took another few steps, which brought him right up to the table. The blue creature turned around, a terrified chatter filling the air.

Fuck, it was a squirrel. In a cage so tiny it hardly could turn around.

Amir inhaled and sneezed. The scent of hair dye was too strong for him to make out anything else. He didn’t need to smell it to know it was a squirrel, though.

The blue-haired woman beamed at him. “Hello, again.” He believed she might have been flirting, but he couldn’t look away from the squirrel for more than a fraction of a second.

Sometime later, he grew aware of her watching him with a confused expression. Had she asked something?

“Why do you have a squirrel?” He did not care if it was a natural squirrel or a shifter squirrel, it was cruel to shove it into such a tiny cage, not to mention dying the fur blue.

“It’s the restaurant mascot.”

Amir stared at her, fully aware his eyes had shifted to those of his wolf but praying she didn’t notice. “You dyed its fur.”

She huffed, her expression going steely. “I didn’t. Ingolf is the one who cares for the squirrels.”

“Who?”

“Ingolf.” Her voice was like a whip.

What kind of fucked up name was Ingolf? “And they are?”

For a moment, she looked confused. “He is my boss. Owner of Squirrel Blue.”

“I can’t believe you were allowed to bring a squirrel here. Aren’t they worried about visitor’s allergies?” He didn’t give a damn about allergies, though it would be sad if someone got ill because of the poor little creature. He was far more concerned about there being a squirrel in a cage, though. He studied it for a moment. There was no door. How the fuck did they open it?

The squirrel was pressed into the corner as far away from him as it could get. Poor thing. Could it scent him over the stink of the dye?

“I’m gonna head over to the store for a minute, can I get you anything?” Best to try to smooth things over with her. Maybe he could flirt a little to get her to drop her guard and then somehow steal the squirrel. He couldn’t release a blue squirrel into the wild, but hopefully, the dye would wash off.

“Could you get me a bottle of water? I was gonna head off to the cafeteria, but I don’t want to leave—” She gestured around the booth.

“Of course.” He nodded and walked away. How the hell did you steal a blue squirrel without getting spotted?

* * * *

Shun Hartman curled his paws around the black bars of his new prison. He couldn’t shift. The cage the fucking wolf had shoved him into wasn’t big enough. It was hardly big enough for him to turn around in. Had he been sure it would break when he shifted, he might have tried it, but he didn’t want to impersonate ground beef. Not today—or any other day.

He had to get out, though. As soon as they didn’t need him to look horrible in a cage, they’d eat him. But he wasn’t planning on killing himself in some crazed escape attempt. He had time to come up with a plan. Maybe.

“He’s a bit strange, isn’t he?” The woman, Marlene, Majorie, Morgan or something along those lines, poked him with a pen through the bars. She’d tried to pet him with a finger earlier, but he’d bitten her. Sadly, she’d pulled away before he could draw blood.

“Oh, I love Squirrel Blue!” A young woman waved animatedly as she talked to Merlyn or whatever. Shun ignored them. He had two days, or one and a half now, to get out of here. Once this expo was over, he’d be back in Fewood, surrounded by werewolves.

He’d spent several days in the restaurant, and it was crawling with wolves. He didn’t think Morgan was aware her colleagues could turn furry. Not the brightest shining bulb in the lamp store.

The only reason he was still alive was that they needed a blue squirrel to show off here.

They had one back at the restaurant. Shun had only been next to it during the terrible dyeing. It wasn’t a shifter, but it didn’t make it any less cruel. His eyes still stung from the treatment, and it had been a couple of days ago. He wasn’t sure he’d ever be able to use his nose again. All he could scent was the chemicals, and it was giving him a pounding headache.

He didn’t have time for headaches. He had to get out of there so he could find Deneb. They’d been together in a clearing when they’d been attacked by wolves, and he had no idea what had happened to him. Since he hadn’t been captured with Shun, he’d either gotten away or he’d been eaten.

He refused to accept the latter.

This fucking cage! He rattled the bars again. Or they didn’t rattle at all, it was only his arms moving. The wolf leader, he didn’t think he was the pack alpha, but Shun was no expert on wolf packs. Shun had dedicated his life to staying away from them. He got the feeling the wolf, Igor or whatever he was called, was the leader of the lackeys around him, but not the entire pack. He could be wrong. How many members did they normally have in a pack? Maybe the entire pack worked at the restaurant, and Ingolf or whatever was the alpha.

He lacked some edge, though. No doubt he was dangerous, but Shun had had the misfortune of running across wolves who’d made his skin tingle with a single look, power like a stinging slap. Iggy didn’t have it. Unless he kept it under wraps.

He pushed at the bars again. Nope. Didn’t budge. Iggy had welded it shut. Shun had been sure he’d died right there. Flambéed squirrel in a cage. Maybe it could’ve been the restaurant’s new signature dish.

A wave of prickles washed over him, and he let go of the bars in favor of pressing his back against them. It was the guy again. A threat.

Dark hair, dark eyes, nice broad shoulders Shun could hang onto—all of which painted a pretty picture if it hadn’t been for the deadly air around him.

Shun tried inhaling again, but his nose was fucked.

“Here you go.” The man handed a bottle over to Morgan who smiled and gave him a sultry look. Didn’t she at least suspect she was playing with fire? His sense of smell might not help him, but this guy was bad news. His brain was sending red flares of danger-danger-danger through his entire being.

Stupid humans—at least, he believed Merlyn was human. He hadn’t met her until after Ingolf or whatever had drowned him in blue.

The man placed his hand on the table near the cage, olive skin, strong fingers. He moved it a little closer while chatting to Morgan in an amused tone. The hand crept closer still, and Shun’s pulse picked up more. Would he try to grab him? He’d bite him if he tried to touch him.

He said something to make Morgan laugh, and while she was in the throes of it, the man pushed a piece of a cookie between the bars.

Shun dove for it. He might poison him, but they hadn’t fed him since yesterday morning and he was starving. To have a sliver of a chance to escape, he needed to eat.

He shoved it into his mouth wishing for the first time in history he had cheek pouches.

Peanut butter cookie. He almost purred. The man might be the devil himself but thank fuck for peanut butter cookies.