Page 4 of Fangs for the Memories (Budapest Bites #1)

“ W hat do you mean?” I keep my voice low and even, despite every desire to shift and start removing heads. “How can the shipment be lost?”

“Your cousin…” The lesser wolf standing in front of me with his compatriot balls his fists to stop his hands from shaking.

“What about Max?” This time I can’t hide the growl.

“He had it diverted,” the second wolf says with a little more confidence. A confidence which swiftly departs as I unfold myself from behind my desk.

My office is deliberately intimidating. Dark wood, heavy furniture, and the scent of cigar smoke which most werewolves dislike, but I enjoy.

It comes from the smoldering butt in the huge onyx ashtray on my desktop.

I know it’s already disorienting the two beta wolves. I pick it up and give it a few puffs.

Their eyes water.

“So, let me get this straight. My cousin , Max, told you to divert the shipment.” I pause as they nod. “And you did this without checking with me.”

Their moving heads stop suddenly.

“We thought…”

“You didn’t think,” I snarl, grabbing the nearest by the throat. “That’s the problem.” I pull him closer to me, his feet lifting from the floor as I use my height and strength to every advantage. “No one but me gives the orders, got it?”

“Yes, Mr. Kóbor.” His friend’s eyes are darting all around the room, looking for an escape, while the one in my clutches wriggles and chokes. “We understand. We’ll find the shipment for you.”

I release the hapless wolf from my grip, and he drops to his knees, coughing.

“Don’t bother.” I turn my back on the pair of them, walking back around my desk. “Get out of my sight.”

The pair of them nearly get stuck in the doorway, they’re trying to get out so fast. Both know they’ve got away lightly, very lightly, but if Max is involved, there’s no point punishing either of them.

I am not a monster, no matter what the humans call us or what the other syndicate families think of me. I’m firm but fair. Not like the vampires. They always bite first and ask questions later.

I only bite when there is a reason, and then I will ensure my victim doesn’t live long enough to tell any tales.

My phone vibrates on the desk. No surprises to see Max’s name appear.

Whatever those two wolves professed not to know, someone has alerted Max to the fact I know what he has done.

I decide to let him stew, sitting back down in my chair and propping my feet up on the dark wood, I continue to enjoy my cigar as I look out over Pest from my office in Buda, the Danube sliding past, slowly, inexorably as time itself.

When my phone vibrates again, it’s my mother calling.

“Mother,” I answer with a sigh.

“Feri, I have found you a match,” she says, her voice metallic down the phone.

“How many times, Mother? I do not want a mate. I do not need a mate. If I choose to take one, it will be of my choosing,” I respond with practiced ease.

“She is a she-wolf of tremendous breeding, a good family. She will bear you many pups.” Mother plows on.

“I don’t care.”

“You will meet her. She is the youngest daughter of Belá Roka. I don’t want you ending up with something disgusting dragged in from the street.”

I grit my teeth at the mention of the second werewolf family from Budapest.

“How…” I run my hand through my hair, tugging at it. “No, it doesn’t matter how you arranged this. I won’t meet her, Mother. I’m not giving the Roka family the satisfaction.”

“You will meet her. Be at the Géllert in an hour.” She hangs up on me.

The one person in the whole of Hungary who can dare to order me around is my mother.

I shouldn’t go. I have a shipment to track down and a cousin who fancies himself as the next head of this family to deal with. But I know I will turn up because my mother has told me to.

I hate myself for it. I do not want the Roka thinking they have any influence over me, and this meeting will be held up by them as a potential closer tie.

My business will suffer for it. I will suffer for it. I curse under my breath at my mother’s obsession about my mating.

“So, a meeting with Belá Roka…”

“I swear you have ears as good as a vampire, you old fossil,” I snap.

Viktor moves out of the shadows. He watches, that’s what gargoyles do. It also makes him some of the best security a werewolf mafia boss can get.

“An old fossil who keeps your hide intact,” Viktor says, taking the stogie from me and puffing until his stone face is nearly obscured. “Don’t you forget it.”

I chuckle. Viktor has saved me from myself more times than I can count. But he and his organization are paid well for their services.

Doesn’t stop me from trusting him. I’ve known the old gargoyle forever. He and his kind have been providing protection for my family for as long as I can remember.

“You shouldn’t go,” he says finally.

“No, I shouldn’t.” The last thing I need is a lesser pack attempting some sort of power grab, not when we’ve finally come to an uneasy truce with the last remaining vampire clan, the Király.

“I’m thinking of adding the Géllert to my portfolio anyway,” I say, shuffling the endless papers on my desk. “This is as good an opportunity as any to look it over.”

“I’ll come with you.” Viktor shifts his considerable huge bulk into the light shed by one of the tall windows of my office.

I am a big alpha wolf, but next to this gargoyle, I may as well be a pup.

“Can I stop you?”

“No one has died under my care, and you’re not going to be the first, no matter how indestructible you think you are,” he rumbles.

“Guess you’re coming with me.” I shrug, turning my phone onto silent and dropping it into my pocket.

Today is not shaping up to be a good day.