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The wolf snickered at Torin. “Emara.” Breighly’s deep brown eyes found Emara again. “This is a place where you can let your gorgeous hair down. Plus, you look like you could have a fun night out.”

“I have been trying to tell her.” Torin rolled his eyes mockingly. He must have inherited Naya’s playful traits, because she couldn’t imagine Viktir being so spirited, not in a million moons.

“You can tell me all you want, but I am not going to listen to you.” Emara raised one brow at Torin and sipped from her drink. “I have told you before, I don’t fall under you.”

Breighly tipped her head back and laughed loudly. “You are fierce.” She nodded in appreciation. “And you hold your own. I love that.”

“Tell me about it. She’s threatened to stab me on multiple occasions, thieved my dagger from my belt, burst my lip…”

“Poor little hunter,” Emara mocked.

“You are my hero.” Breighly snorted as she clinked her drink against Emara’s. “The witches need more women like you.”

In a way, Emara had never felt more like she had received a better compliment in her life, but she was quite sure it wasn’t true. “I don’t know about that.”

“I am.” The blonde grabbed the drinks and placed another one in Emara’s hand. “Let’s go and see what talent is out on the dance floor.” She grabbed Emara with her free hand. “You don’t need to be stuck with the hunters all night. Wolves have more fun.” Her brown eyes swirled with excitement, and they reminded her of how Cally would have looked at her. Breighly winked. “Come on, let me show you how the wolves party.”

“Who was your little blonde friend at the bar?” Artem asked as Torin fell back into his seat beside him.

“Breighly Baxgroll.” He laughed.

“The alpha’s daughter?” Artem’s eyebrow lifted and Torin could already see the bad ideas running through his mind.

“Yes, the alpha’s daughter,” he confirmed. “So don’t get any ideas.”

“I have nothing but ideas now.” Artem’s gaze wandered all over the bar.

“Well, don’t, he would have your balls for breakfast.” Torin sipped his rum, finally savouring the sweet and spiced taste.

He sighed. Ah, that was better.

“Did you ever go there?” his friend asked.

“Absolutely not.” Torin choked out a laugh. “We are friends. She’s like family. In case you haven’t noticed over the years, I tend not to form attachments to anyone.”

“I know.” Artem grinned. “You don’t tend to have a soft spot for anyone.” He glanced ahead. “Until now.” He sipped his drink too.

Another thing they had in common—the love for a fine rum.

Torin pulled his eyes from Emara on the dancefloor delightfully swinging her hips as she laughed at Breighly doing the same. It had been a while since he saw her truly laugh, and a little movement in his chest signalled it was time to shut it down.

“I don’t know what you mean,” he said, taking another sip. This time the rum was a mixture of fruit and wood as it lay on his tongue before smoothly gliding down his throat.

“Torin, my man.” Artem placed an arm around Torin’s shoulders. “I have grown up with you, fought with you, went through the Selection with you, seduced women with you, and I have never seen you look at a girl the way you look at Emara.”

“That’s ridiculous.” He threw the rest of the liquor to the back of his throat and slammed the glass down. “You’re being ridiculous.” He fought hard to keep his cool demeanour intact.

“Does she know?” Artem nodded at Emara.

“What?”

His golden eyes lit with a flame of enjoyment. “Does she know that you love her?”

He tensed. “If you don’t want a broken jaw, you will shut up right now.”

“I am serious, brother,” Artem said, finally resting back into his chair. “Have you told her how you feel?”

His throat bobbed. “Gideon’s heart lies with her. He is the one who loves her.”