Page 3 of Property of Crypt Keeper

“One more picture!” Missy’s mom pleaded, her diamonds sparkling in the afternoon sun.

We straightened our dresses, then with arms looped around each other, we grinned widely for the cameraman she had hired for the day. At least I liked to think I did.

My uncle took a few pictures as well with his small prototype Leica O-Series camera, but the expression on his face was nothing like the ones that Missy’s parents wore. Instead, his brow was wrinkled, and deep grooves framed his mouth. His dark eyes settled on me, and he might as well have spoken aloud because I could hear him plain as day.

You don’t have to do this.

My chin lifted.

The lines on his face eased, and his shoulders drooped slightly in resignation. How my uncle had survived as one of our kind with his tender heart was beyond me. Then again, he never talked about his past, so I had no idea what he’d been like before I came to live with him. All I knew is that I would never get soft.

Ever.

The scalpel-sharp blade slid through hairy flesh and sinew like a whisper. A gurgling preceded the dull thud of the creature’s head toppling to the leaf-strewn ground.

My chest rose and fell deeply as I stood over it. Glancing down at the thick leather gauntlet, I stared at the deep gouges. That was close. Yet where some might experience fear, pure adrenaline surged through my veins.

Over seventy-five years of hunting and it still hadn’t changed.

Without a backward glance, I flipped my braid over my shoulder, turned, and walked away.

That wasn’t my first brush with death… and it wouldn’t be my last.

1

CRYPT KEEPER

The clubhouse still stank like death.

Not the fresh kind—the kind that hit sharp and metallic and made my wolf seem to pace the inside of my ribs.

No, this was the aftermath kind. Blood scrubbed from floorboards with bleach until the air burned your sinuses. Smoke clinging to leather and denim like it belonged there. The faint ghost of Thane’s rot beneath it all, like the walls remembered what we’d done out front and didn’t know whether to be proud or afraid.

I leaned against the bar, arms folded, scanning the room like it was my job.

Because… it was.

Sergeant at Arms meant I kept order. I kept the peace. I kept the brothers from doing something so stupid it got them killed. And when the peace couldn’t be kept?

Well, I kept the bodies from piling up inside our walls.

“Well, you’re good and branded now,” Killswitch teased as he moved the tattoo gun over her skin with precision. But it wasn’t a joke—it was tradition. It meant something in our world that a lot of people didn’t understand.

Mako didn’t laugh when Killswitch said it. His steady gaze locked on his woman said everything anyone needed to know. She was his, and he would die before he let anything happen to her.

Hair piled up on her head to keep it out of the way, Lyra tried to laugh. It came out thin and forced as she squeezed Mako’s hand as Killswitch finished up. Despite her new state, with the type of ink necessary for our kind, it hurt, and I damn well knew it.

“Aww, it’s so cute!” Lily cooed as she peeked over Killswitch’s shoulder.

Once he was done, he took a picture on his phone and held it out for her to see it. “There you go, darlin’, what do you think?”

“I love it,” she whispered. Though she quickly blinked them away, I saw the brief glisten of tears in her eyes.

I’d never admit it, but I had to look away briefly. That was something I’d never have. After all, where the hell was I going to find a woman who would understand that I could shift into a giant wolf and that once a month I had to have myself locked up for the safety of everyone around me?

“Let me get it covered up for you, and then we’ll get ready to get those crawfish started.” He pulled a roll of second skin from the roll-away he kept at the clubhouse and cut off a piece. Then he placed it over her new ink to seal it off.

When he started cleaning up his supplies, Thing One and Thing Three scrambled to get all the stuff to make dinner. It was Sunday, and the club members always gathered together for dinner. Thing Two already had the crawfish soaking out on the covered outdoor kitchen we had finished building a couple of months ago. By now, they should be about clean and ready to go.