Sir Rodney straightened, but his gaze was open as it went toward Sasha and Hunter. “I would never want to put any of the wolf packs at risk…”

“Indeed… but they are also excellent warriors unknown to your ex-wife and no stranger to battles with the undead. Vampires walk a wary path around them, sire, and it would not seem odd that they would be looking into matters that could potentially effect their packs or humans,” his eldest advisor said calmly, going to the king to stand before him. His ancient gaze held the king’s. “This happened in a Fae bar that humans frequent. That would give them both cover and cause.”

“They cannot be harmed or placed in harm’s way,” Sir Rodney said in a rush, dragging his fingers through his hair as he now specifically stared at Sasha.

Hunter nodded with appreciation. “You had our backs, now we have yours. I am sure my brother Shogun will feel the same way.”

“We stand with you at the ready, Sir Rodney,” Sasha said. “Count on that.” But as she held Sir Rodney’s gaze, wolf instinct kicked in. “You never answered my question. What was the blood?”

“You also never fully disclosed your investigator’s lead,” Hunter said in a casual tone, but his expression was anything but that.

“Follow me,” Sir Rodney said, ignoring his advisors’ startled eyes.

“Milord,” his eldest advisor said after a moment, stepping before Sir Rodney and withdrawing his wand. “I beg you to caution. Just as your comment to go to war with Vampires came out of passion… might this also be-”

“Do not forget your place, Bardis. We are old friends yet there are still parameters.”

“And there is dark magick afoot… so serious that at times it has held His Majesty’s judgment in question,” Bardis said in a tight murmur meant only for Sir Rodney’s ears.

“Not this time. If we are to ask for our allies’ assistance, then we must trust them. That is common sense, old friend.”

Although the senior advisor clearly didn’t like it, he put his wand away and stood aside. Sasha and Hunter waited until Sir Rodney motioned for them to follow him, and he led the way through a door on the far side of the room that gave way to spiral stone stairs so narrow that one had to touch the wall to keep from feeling vertigo.

The moment they were at the bottom, Hunter glanced at Sasha and nodded. “It is the scent.”

“Quite so,” Sir Rodney said, still walking. He stopped at a huge wooden locked door.

To Sasha’s surprise, the advisor named Bardis and the others who’d been in the war room opened the door for their king. Again, all she could do was glance at Hunter; Fae magick was deep.

But the body draped with a sheet on the granite slab before them nearly made her gasp out loud. The scent was cloying. And it was definitely the same blood trace they’d picked up in Ethan’s wine cellar.

“Who is it?” Sasha asked as they neared the table and Sir Rodney flung off the sheet.

“Ethan’s bartender, Mike,” Sir Rodney said.

“The one who supposedly went home early?” Hunter said with sarcasm lacing his tone.

“Well, scratch his name off the whodunnit list,” Sasha said with a scowl.

“This was the lead,” Bardis said, ignoring the tension, and pointed at the lacerations on the nude man’s chest. “His heart is gone, torn from the anchors so quickly it must have still been beating in the murderer’s hand. There is only one entity we know of that can move that swiftly in a surgical strike.”

Sasha and Hunter stepped closer. She gazed down into the stunned expression. The poor man’s mouth was open in a frozen scream, his eyes wide and glassy. Too bad the dead couldn’t talk. She traced the gashes left just outside the gaping hole in his chest and then looked at Hunter.

“Could have been a Vamp heart snatch. Usually a wolf attack isn’t quite so clean-isn’t directed at one organ.”

“Wolves generally go for the throat or the gut, leaving viscera everywhere.” Hunter leaned into the body and sniffed. “But there is most assuredly a trace of Were here as well.” Hunter stood and stared at Sir Rodney. “And you didn’t think this might have been useful information?”

Sasha folded her arms over her chest. “So, you guys found him and Desidera, removed his body and glamoured the cellar so we wouldn’t see any trace of this body hitting the dirt, and then cleaned up the blood? Why?”

“We had to know beyond a shadow of a doubt,” Sir Rodney said, lifting his chin, “that if it was a wolf, you would still stand with us.”

“Now I really am offended, even if I understand your twisted logic,” Sasha said and then walked away.

Shogun doubled over, clutching his stomach, the moment he exited the plane.

“Sir, are you all right?” a member of the flight crew asked as he slowly straightened.

“Just fatigue from the long flight,” Shogun’s lieutenant muttered, helping him forward. Seung Kwon gave both Chin-Hwa and Dak-Ho a warning look to watch their backs as he ushered Shogun forward.

The two muscular enforcers bringing up the rear exchanged sidelong glances as they cleared the Jetway. None of the tense, silent exchanges were lost on Shogun. Pure humiliation burned his face. He should have passed on Sir Rodney’s kind invitation. Were it not for the insistence of his half brother, Hunter, he surely would have. It had been bad enough that his need for Sasha was a private matter known and acknowledged only by him, but now, once again on North American soil, the desire to be with her had become excruciating.

Shogun wiped the sheen of sweat beading his brow, sipping in shallow inhalations. Her scent littered the air. She was already in New Orleans. To covet another man’s wife was dishonorable; to covet one’s brother’s wife was tragic.

Seung Kwon’s steady hand landed on his shoulder. “Cousin, are you still not well?” He stared into Shogun’s eyes, his voice low and private and laden with concern. “The long flight, the lack of raw food so close to the moon shift… or maybe some human contagion is simply passing through your system as you purge it. They are germ conveyors-sickly beasts-and we’ve been in recycled air so long… unnatural for wolves.”

Watching his cousin try to understand what he could never impart twisted Shogun’s conscience. The only response he could give right now was a curt nod. He had to remember that above all else, he was a head of state. Deep within his core he sought that element of strength that made him the alpha clan leader of the Southeast Asian Werewolf Federation. The fact that Seung was also searching for something plausible, something that would allow him to save face, only seemed to make the humiliation more profound. How could one explain that losing Sasha was like losing a limb… or that the other women he’d burned his way through once home in Korea were merely prosthetic devices-temporary, clumsy by comparison, without warmth and fluidity and offering only dulled sensation, even though they were necessary, aesthetically appealing alternatives. But they would never be Sasha.

Damn what his aunt and her elderly advisors had to say about the appearance of grieving for the Shadow female. His mother’s sister sounded like his dead sister Lei. Lady Jung Suk’s name fit her well: chaste rock.

What would a Were Snow Leopard know of wolf causes or passions? Just because his mother, father, and sister were now deceased didn’t give his aunt any familial rights of inheritance or a place in his den of government. So who was Lady Jung Suk to attempt to now interject herself into the running of a Werewolf Federation?

The Snows never mated with the ferocity of the wolf or stayed in a familial pack, never bonded for generation upon generation… They were loners who lived in the barren, icy mountains of Tibet and only came together to procreate once a season. And now his aunt would attempt to counsel him about appearances?