Blood's Shadow: The Lycanthropy Files, Book 3 by Cecilia Dominic

fucking great,” he said.
    “Maybe you need to get better at giving history lessons,” I told him. The doorbell rang, and we both startled. “Stay here.”
    “Insolent pup,” he growled, but he didn’t move.
    I hesitated and grabbed the open Oban bottle before he helped himself again. Not that there wasn’t other alcohol in the kitchen, but in spite of his rustic upbringing, David wasn’t the type of guest to open something without asking.
    His words followed me into the front hall. “If your father wasn’t such a good friend…”
    I checked through the peephole and saw the last person I expected: Selene.
    I opened the door and pulled Selene inside. “Are you crazy? You don’t know who might be out there!”
    “What is your problem?” She detached her arm from my grip and narrowed her eyes at the Scotch in my hand. “Are you drinking that straight from the bottle?”
    “No, I’m drinking it from a glass like a gentleman,” I said and motioned for her to follow me into the kitchen, thinking it would be best to introduce her to David before he surprised us. But when I got in there, I saw he’d left through the side door. His empty glass sat on the counter beside the letter from my father, and the sound of his car’s engine started and moved away.
    “What’s that?” she asked and reached for the letter.
    “Official business,” I told her and picked it up. It barely had any weight to it, and I handled it carefully.
    “From when, nineteen hundred?”
    “Nineteen forty-three,” I murmured.
    She shook her head. “Look, I’m sorry if I’m interrupting something,” she said. “I was driving by and…” She squeezed her eyes shut. “That’s a lie. I looked you up and found you.”
    I bit my tongue so I wouldn’t ask if she’d consulted her scarfaced concussion-dealing friend before showing up for a visit. “What can I fix you to drink?”
    She opened her eyes, and her open face betrayed her surprise. How had she gotten mixed up with that bloke at the pub? She reeked of innocence, but she was no dummy. “To drink?” she asked.
    “The rules of hospitality dictate that if a guest shows up at one’s residence, one should offer some sort of refreshment. Thus, would you like a drink?”
    She nodded. “Do you have any wine?”
    I gestured to my dual zone wine fridge. “Red or white?”
    “White, please.”
    Soon I had her settled with a glass of Chenin Blanc on the opposite end of the sofa. The similarity to David’s visit from earlier didn’t escape me, but she was nicer to look at.
    “So what brings you to Shady Acres?” I asked. “I’m afraid it’s not the Scotland in coffee table books.”
    “It’s fine,” she said. “It’s not so different from home except our historical houses are a couple, not several, hundred years old. As for what brings me…” She looked into her glass. “I wanted to know how the investigation into Otis’s death is going.”
    “I had official business today, so I wasn’t able to do any investigating, but I will give it my full attention tomorrow. I’m hoping Garou will have his reports ready by then.”
    “Are you going to question us? He already did.”
    “That depends. Can you add to your statement?”
    “Garou implied we were dating,” she said. “But we weren’t. But still, it’s my fault that Otis died.”
    That drew my attention away from the curve of her neck and the way one button on her blouse seemed to hang on for dear life over her breasts. “Fill me in here. How does Garou’s implication cause you to be a murderer?”
    She blinked, and two fat tears trailed down her cheeks. “Other people thought we were dating, or at least that we were more than friends. Because we were the same age and American, maybe. Lonna even hinted that it wouldn’t be a good idea to cross personal and professional relationships.” She snorted. “Like she’s not married to her co-director.”
    “Right. Believe me, we did consider that, but we need