Munro (Immortals After Dark #18) by Kresley Cole

            Munro closed in on her. “Only because I was fading! Rather than fight those newlings, I should have just hied your arse away without raising a claw against them.”

            “How far would you have gotten with my knife in your back?” By now they were toe-to-toe.

            “We both know you want to bargain with Dorada to return to your time. Why should I take you?”

            “Because you’ll also be getting a chance to convince your mate to stay with you and accept eternal life.”

            “Aye, but you’ll be getting the chance to persuade me no’ to turn you.”

            With a challenging lift of her brow, she said, “Ah, you doubt the strength of your convictions, and you’re afraid that an organic will outmaneuver you mentally.”

            His lips curled. “I warn you now: You will fall for me. And when you do, you’ll be begging for eternity.”

            “Or perhaps you’ll fall for me, becoming more sympathetic to my needs.”

            “So which one of us is the most determined and persuasive?” He leaned down.

            She went to her toes until their lips were inches apart. “Bring me with you, devil wolf, and let us find out,” she said, even as her expression told him, Oh, silly boy, you’re going down.

            “You plan to use your wiles on me?” Had his tone sounded hopeful?

            “If by wiles, you mean my blade, then yes. Often.”

            He parted his lips to lay into her. Or kiss her. Impulses tangled in his muddled mind—

            Loa cleared her throat. “Kids, kids, as much as I love to witness unadulterated sexual tension between species, we only have so long before the warlocks arrive.”

            Munro pulled back from Kereny before he did something to make her stab him yet again. Her glare told him she was considering it.

            Loa blithely continued, “I just texted the nymphs at the inn, so they’ll be awaiting you with a bounty of food.” She tossed Munro the duffel bag. “I’ve packed two cuffs to conceal you from scrying and some witchly products that will conjure all the clothing you two might need. There’s also a phone for Kereny and a werewolf treat for you. Anything else I can help you with?”

            Munro retrieved one of the cuffs and clasped it on his wrist, shuddering from the feel of magic. He handed the other one to Kereny. After a hesitation, she donned it with a shiver.

            In for a penny, in for a pound. “Do you have something that can tamp down my beast during the next full moon?” An adult Lykae could control the beast during that night—unless he or she found their mate. Then control became impossible. “Mayhap you’ve got a cuff like Prince Garreth wore.” Garreth had bought one from the witches to keep his beast leashed as he’d chased Lucia, his Valkyrie mate, around the world. It’d worked like the charm that it was—right up until it hadn’t.

            Loa shook her head. “After the failure of the prince’s control cuff, the House of Witches made a pact never again to meddle with a Lykae’s beast. His talisman was the last one. If you need that magic, you’d have to find that very cuff.”

            Not likely. After Will and Chloe had left for Scotland to work through their issues, Munro had made inquiries about that control cuff for Will’s beast. He’d learned it had been lost.

            Seriously lost.

            On the night of a full moon in the Amazon basin, a shifter had attacked Garreth. The two had grappled, landing in the water, which had teemed with supernaturally large caimans. One had eaten the shifter. When Garreth surfaced, his cuff had disappeared.

            Also presumed to have been eaten by a multi-ton caiman.

            The witches had told Garreth that the cuff might work for days or years, but eventually it would fail because fate would have her way. Munro had hoped for even a single night’s control. He’d have to figure something else out. There must be some means to keep Kereny safe—from him.

            Loa stiffened, drawing him from his musings. Her irises grew white. She was communing with a spirit, borrowing its senses. Her voice sounded like a child’s as she said, “The warlocks have come! The warlocks have come! Five minutes away.”