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Some were empty and some were half-

filled with cold coffee.

Sighing, Craig grabbed four of the mugs and the garbage bag and returned to the kitchen. One more trip and all the garbage was out of his workspace. He forced himself to put the mugs in the dishwasher, and after a quick glance at the coffee pot, he threw that in with the rest of the dishes. He hit the right buttons on the front of the machine and the dishwasher cycle started.

“Crap.” He should have had his shower before he started the damn machine. He obviously needed to get some real sleep and not just catnap an hour or two at his desk. But with his siblings gone, he had the entire building to himself once the gallery on the ground floor closed up for the day, and he’d taken the time to get some real work done.

He looked around the kitchen and living room and noted the fine layer of dust that had settled over the furniture. It was definitely time to call in the cleaning service again. He did his best to keep things up, but at times like these, it was easier to call in the professionals.

“Shower. Food.” These were what he needed. He walked down the short hallway, ignored his office and went into his bedroom. The bed was unmade, the hunter-green comforter half on the floor.

He hadn’t slept in the thing for a couple nights now. Once he got immersed in his work it took a lot to drag him away.

“It was worth it,” he muttered as he emptied the pockets of his jeans before stripping them off and tossing them into the laundry hamper. His shirt followed.

Clad only in boxers and sports socks, he padded into the bathroom and turned on the shower.

While the water heated, he studied himself in the mirror. His eyes were a bit bloodshot, but other than that he looked normal. His memory went back to his early days in Chicago. He’d been skinnier then. Leaner. A regular workout routine and sparring with his brother and brother-in-law had helped him bulk up some. It had been a matter of self-defense. They were both half-breed werewolves and much stronger than he’d ever be. It was build some muscle or get the crap beaten out of him in their training sessions. He’d opted to get stronger.

He tossed his glasses onto the vanity and stripped out of the rest of his clothes before stepping under the hot spray. He groaned when the water pounded his sore muscles. He leaned forward, pressing his hands against the tile, letting the heat ease the stiffness in his neck and shoulders.

When the water started to cool, he grabbed the soap and lathered his body from head to toe before rinsing. Then he gave his hair a quick wash. The water was almost cold by the time he turned it off. He grabbed a towel and ran it quickly over his body before wrapping it around his waist.

He shoved his glasses on and rubbed his heavily stubbled jaw, studying his reflection. He really needed to shave, but he needed food worse than he needed a smooth jaw. His stomach growled again as though in agreement.

Still, if he decided to stop into Haven, he didn’t want to look too disreputable.

Better to just get it done. He shoved in the stopper and filled the sink with water. He shaved quickly and managed to nick his jaw only once. Satisfied he looked better, he slapped some lotion on his skin, ignoring the slight burning sensation from the tiny cut.

Craig padded back to the bedroom and tossed the damp towel onto the hardwood floor. He pulled on clean boxer briefs, socks, jeans and a plain black T-shirt. He’d rather not have to get dressed and go out, but he also knew there was nothing edible left in his cupboards and he was starving. He almost left the towel on the floor, but at the last second, picked it up and carried it back into the bathroom to hang it over the rod to dry.

He grabbed his phone, wallet and keys off the dresser and stuffed them into his jeans pockets before heading for the front door. He pulled on a pair of boots and slipped on his leather jacket. Craig locked the door behind him and hurried down the stairs.

Haven was just down the road. He really should stop in and visit with Meredith and the rest of the crew. Or he could go see Damek. The fact that his best friend was a vampire still surprised him even after all this time. And not just any vampire, but an ancient, powerful one. Damek owned and ran Inhibitions—a club in the Fulton River District—and would be there tonight. He was there for a while every night.

Craig pushed open the door and stepped out onto the sidewalk. The crisp evening air filled his lungs as he locked up the building. It was only a little past six, but it was already dark. He missed the long days of summer.

He stuffed his hands into the pockets of his leather jacket and strode down the road. There were coffee shops and restaurants aplenty. Something for everyone.

“Hey, Craig.” Mr. Prentski was closing up his deli for the day.

“Hey, Mr. P. How’s business?”

“Good.” The older man studied him critically. “You don’t look so good.”

Craig laughed. “Working long hours.

I’m getting something to eat and then heading back home to make an early night of it.”

Mr. Prentski nodded. “That is good.

Do you want to come home with me for supper? Mama is cooking.”

Mrs. Prentski had to be almost eighty, but she was still spry and cooked like a dream. “Not tonight, but thanks.”

The older man nodded. “Okay, but come by the deli tomorrow. I’ll save some of Mama’s pastries for you.”

“It’s a deal.” Craig waved and kept walking down the sidewalk. The city was alive with people and lights and noise, but Wicker Park was a community and he was glad to be a part of it. Putting down roots here five years ago had been the right thing to do.

Craig nodded hello to several other folks he knew as he walked. Bean There was closed or he’d have stopped into the funky coffee shop for soup and a sandwich. He promised himself he’d come back for lunch tomorrow.

In the meantime, his stomach was beginning to complain rather loudly.

Craig crossed at the light and headed up the sidewalk. Haven was only a few blocks away. Teague would be in the kitchen and would cook him up something delicious. Teague was a half-

breed werewolf who looked more like a gang member or drug dealer than the amazing cook he was. Maybe he’d ask Teague to grill him up a steak with onions, mushrooms and fries on the side.

Oh yeah. That was exactly what he wanted.

Foot traffic was getting lighter as the daytime crowd had all headed home and the evening patrons hadn’t come out yet.

Craig didn’t mind. He enjoyed having the sidewalk almost all to himself. He could see the Haven sign in the distance and quickened his step. He was almost past the dark alleyway when he heard a whimper.

Craig stopped and went back a few steps, peering down the alley. The streetlights didn’t penetrate very far, making it difficult to see anything.

“Anyone there?” It was probably nothing more than a stray cat or dog searching for scraps. It was an unfortunate fact that every city had a problem with stray animals.

He squinted, wishing not for the first time that he had the enhanced senses of his siblings. They’d had the same mother but different fathers, and Craig was fully human while his brother and sister were part werewolf. “Hello.”

He heard the whimpering sound again, but this time it sounded more human than animal. Cursing himself for a fool, he started down the alley. He really should go to Haven for help. Any one of the pack would come back with him to check this out. It was pure folly to go alone.

Still, he took another step into the darkness.