Book 4: Screwing Around

Michael

I don’t really want to be here, but my mother and my fiancee practically forced me out of the castle and locked the door behind me. 

The dingy, crowded tavern some thirty miles away from the castle seems to sway against the crowd of shifters and vampires alike, everyone drinking copious amounts of ale or blood cocktails. Deacon is thoroughly enjoying himself as he leans over the bar to whisper in the ear of a vampire woman who blushes deeply at whatever he says. 

Lowe sits beside me nursing a glass of the finest scotch the establishment has to offer, which is so young it’s barely a pale yellow, and his face turns bright red every time he takes a drink. 

I expected him to stay close, seeing as he has a mate at home, but I didn’t expect Cole to be behaving so innocently. 

Sulking is a better word for it. 

He rests his elbows on the table, guarding a blood cocktail, while his blue eyes scan our surrou