chapter 77

My douche-o-meter can’t handle the overload and explodes.

“Werewolves,” he says, looking us up and down. “In my club.”

“Dan sent us,” Nathan says.

“Yeah, of course he did. Jonah.” He sticks his hand out for Nathan to shake, then offers it to me before noticing mine is missing. He snatches the offer back quickly.

Hook, I think, giving Nathan a knowing look.

“So, you’re the royals.” Jonah tucks his thumbs through his belt loops. His pants are riding low enough to expose a cut of muscle plunging from his hip to beneath his waistband. “Guess that qualifies you for the VIP room.”

It strikes me then that he doesn’t sound English. As we follow him toward the back of the club, I say, “You have a west coast accent. Like, the west coast of North America.”

“Good ear,” he notes. “Vancouver, British Columbia.”

“I’m from Ontario!” I declare excitedly, and way too loud. Some people we pass give me a withering look.

“Yeah, got that from the whole Toronto thing.” He pushes a swinging black door open,