Night Falls on the Wicked

Night Falls on the Wicked by Sharie Kohler Page B

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Authors: Sharie Kohler
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was clear. But they hadn’t been in the van that long. They couldn’t be too far from town. She stared up into the sky. It was nearly dark.
    Snow had started to fall again in fat flakes. She lowered her face away from the cold kiss, blinking as the flaky white collected on her lashes.
    As they were led up the porch steps and inside the house, Darby stayed close to Pam and Aimee. The heat hit her, warming from the outside in.
    “Ah, you’ve returned at last.” A slender man who barely looked twenty unfolded himself from a sofa positioned before the great fire. He wore a thick black sweater and jeans. Clean-shaven, hair close-cropped, he looked collegiate. Not like a bloodthirsty beast of untold years.
    Age was deceptive when it came to lycans. She knew this. Knew that if this was their alpha, he had to be older than the others. The most dangerous of them all.
    His pewter gaze roved over each of them, lingering, assessing, before settling on her. “Ah, you’ve brought us something special it seems,” he said in cultured tones, overenunciating his words.
    He approached, appraising her carefully. That silver-eyed gaze made her want to squirm but she held her ground. “This is far finer than the usual fare you bring back. Good work, gentlemen.” The alpha brushed a lock of hair back off her shoulder and she flinched.
    “Yes. We got lucky, Cyprian. I find her interesting as well. This one might be worth keeping.”
    “The bitch did this to my face.” The lycan—Marcus—she struck with the two-by-four motioned to his almost-healed wounds, clearly disagreeable to the suggestion of keeping her alive. “I don’t want to keep her around.”
    Cyprian sighed and rolled his eyes. “Stop being such a child, Marcus. You’re fine. And we’re not exactly in a position to be choosy.” He waved a hand around them. “Our numbers are dwindling here.”
    Cyprian’s eyes narrowed as he studied her. “It has been some time since we’ve had a female in our pack.”
    “Yeah. They keep getting wiped out by—”
    Cyprian moved then. His arm shot out in a blur she could hardly process. All she knew was that Marcus was standing one moment and across the room the next. If Darby had any doubt that Cyprian was the alpha, it was gone. “Silence! Don’t speak his name. I told you, I don’t want to hear.”
    Aimee started to cry in earnest. No more soft weeping. Even with her faced buried against her mother’s leg, the wails came across loud and clear.
    Darby patted the girl’s back. Her mother seemed incapable, staring vacantly into space. It was like she was locked somewhere inside herself, unable to come out.
    Cyprian turned a gracious smile on Darby. “Pardon me, you shouldn’t have to see our squabbling. It’s really quite rude of us. We obviously need a woman’s touch to help tame our wild ways.” He turned his attention on Aimee. “Don’t cry, little one. This shall all be over soon.” He patted the girl’s head.
    Pam didn’t seem inclined to do anything except stare numbly into space. Darby pressed closer, hugging the child to her side.
    “You. You’re different.” Cyprian wagged his finger at her, smiling as if she were a mischievous child who’d played a prank. “What is it about you, hm?”
    Darby swallowed, knowing exactly what he meant, what he
sensed
about her, but not about to point out to him that he had a witch in his grasp. Especially since she didn’t mean to be in his grasp for long.
    Suddenly, his smile slipped. An intent look came over his face as he stepped nearer. He reached for her throat with thin, long fingers. She leaned back and swatted at his hand, but he ignored her,seizing her necklace. Somehow it had slipped out from beneath her sweater and lay exposed.
    “Interesting,” he mused, inspecting each of the three charms. “What do we have here? Milk and let me guess—holy water? And this third must be … salt.” His pewter gaze drifted back to her face. Lycans weren’t the only

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