Wild Threesome: (Paranormal MMF Menage Romance) (Wolves on the Prowl Book 2) by Michele Bardsley Page B

silver had to stay in contact with the wolf for a long time.
    At least that’s what her sources had told her. She’d never killed vampires or werewolves, so she didn’t have firsthand knowledge of the weaknesses, much less the death knells, of either species. She wasn’t exactly feeling her best, not with her ticker failing, and going into a new situation with this much risk… well, it was no wonder she felt foreboding lining her guts like lead.
    She stopped lollygagging on the last limb, and jumped to the ground. Her arsenal included her usual weaponry, along with the silver daggers, and the bullets Carlos had given her.
    She grimaced. He was Queen Fiona’s consort, but it was easier to get out of the queen’s favor than to gain it. The fact that Carlos had held Fiona’s attention for more than a month was impressive -- at least according to the gossips at court. Her last lover had been stupid enough to take another woman into his bed. The pair had been dismembered with a silver sword, their heads stuck on pikes and kept in the queen’s bedroom.
    Yuck.
    It was one thing to kill, and another to bask in the aftermath of murder. That was the difference between Raven and a serial killer. That, and the money. She never did a hit for free. And never, ever for jollies. Some people were just sick.
    So, yeah. Carlos had given her the silver bullets, not because the queen told him to, but because he wanted Raven to owe him. She leaned against the tree, and took a moment to gather her thoughts. Instead, her mind opened the door to the night she’d left New Orleans. She’d been in her hotel room, packing, and Carlos had just… appeared.
    There was something off about the vampire. He was creepily charismatic. He was good-looking, even if he was soulless. Definitely a drink-the-Kool-Aid kind of guy. That made him dangerous, and not only to her.
    He wore leather gloves to protect his skin from the effects of the silver. He dropped the bullets into her open palm. “Bring me back six,” he said, “and you’ll owe me nothing.”
    “And if I use them?”
    He cupped her cheek with his gloved hand, his eyes going black. “For every bullet used, I will ask one favor. It’s a fair trade.”
    Raven had thought about handing them back, and maybe even putting the oak stake into the bastard’s heart, but tamped down the impulse. If her father had taught her nothing else, it was to think before she acted.
    “You think you can buy real silver bullets?” His voice had gone soft, seductive. “Who do you think cornered the silver market? Werewolves. They control silver because it’s the one substance that can harm them.” He let her go and stepped back. “It doesn’t stop peddlers from selling fakes. Sometimes, there’s actual silver in them, but that hardly matters. Only pure silver rounds will affect werewolves… or vampires.”
    He knew she’d purchased silver rounds. Or thought she had. He’d either followed her to the specialty shop, or had her followed, and she didn’t know why. Other than he was a nosy bastard. “You want me to owe you?” she’d asked.
    “I want everyone to owe me,” he said. “That’s how you survive in this world. Remember that.” He’d flickered like an image on a bad film reel, and disappeared.
    Raven had packed the bullets.
    Maybe it wasn’t weird that Carlos had the rounds. But it was mondo weird that they were .320 caliber, which fit her PPK perfectly. It could be a coincidence. Or he could’ve had them specially made. And if he had, that begged all sorts of questions she didn’t want to answer.
    Eight bullets, which were usually six more than she needed. Firing the one in the chamber was enough to kill, especially when it hit the forehead or the temple. But she always put another round in the heart.
    One round in the chamber, and seven more in the magazine. The first two were her own bullets, the other six were the silver. She hoped to hell she didn’t use them because she didn’t