“Nope. I’m going with Ric.”

Alla let out an annoyed sigh. “I did not mean Ulrich.”

Lock grinned. “I’m meeting Gwen there.”

“Excellent.”

“You like her.”

“I like her for you.” After a moment, she shrugged and added, “And I like her.” Because she makes you shine.

“Children are beginning to show up,” Brody said as he walked into the room. “I can’t terrify them from the bushes if you’re not manning the door, Alla.”

“Of course. Because that’s what makes this dreadful holiday so entertaining.”

Brody walked over to his new desk. “This is gorgeous!”

“I’m glad you like it, Dad.”

“And a rolltop.” He pushed the rolltop up and then twisted around and under to see inside. “I’ve always wondered how these types of desk work.”

“Dad. Don’t take my desk apart.”

“Of course not!” Brody pursed his lips. “But if I were just to—”

“No!” Mother and son barked in unison.

Brody pouted and Alla had no idea why when he did that it always made her love him a little more.

“There’s no need to get testy,” he grouched.

Gwen opened the door and stared at her best friend. “I can’t believe you still have that costume.”

“I can’t believe I still fit in it.” Blayne twirled once in the hallway. “Isn’t it great?”

“Yep. It’s great.” And very, very Blayne. Her idea of a 1950s Satan’s Cheerleader, complete with a full-length red poodle skirt—only the poodle was a snarling Doberman pinscher—a black V-necked sweater, saddle shoes, short black socks, black and red pom-poms, an inverted-cross necklace in black, and her long hair blown out straight and in a high pony tail with bangs combed over her forehead. Plus the “blood”-covered rosarys hanging off her hip was a nice and recent touch.

Blayne studied Gwen. “You and your sixties obsession.”

“Best era for clothes and music.”

“You look like you should be in an Andy Warhol movie.” Blayne’s eyes narrowed. “Is that a wig?”

“Nah.” Gwen ran her hands through her freshly shorn locks. “I cut it.”

“Lemme see.”

Gwen lowered her hand and shook out her hair. She’d kept the front ends a little longer and cut the back shorter. It had been a whim after studying some old photos online when she was pulling her costume together.

Blayne dropped her pom-poms and circled Gwen, playing with the ends of her hair.

“It’s perfect.”

“You like it?”

“I love it.” Blayne dug herhands into Gwen’s hair and scrubbed like crazy. Laughing, Gwen batted her off.

“Let’s go!” Blayne cheered, doing a forward cartwheel back into the hallway—and almost popping Gwen in the face with those long legs. “I’m so ready to go. It’s gonna be a blast!”

“Yeah,” Gwen agreed. It’ll be a blast—for Blayne. Gwen, however, would spend the whole evening keeping track of her mother and brother and making the peace when it was necessary. But Lock promised he’d meet her there, and she had no doubts he’d come through. If nothing else, she had a great after-party party to look forward to.

Hell, if she had her way, she’d forgo the stupid costume party altogether and hook up with Lock. But her mother…

“You ready or what?” Blayne asked eagerly.

“Uh…hold on.” Gwen went to the coffee table and grabbed a pack of gum, a tube of lipstick, her ID, and cash. She placed those inside her boots. Then she grabbed the closed straight razor she’d carried with her everywhere in Philly and now New York and slid it into the small holder sewn into the inside of her pants.

Having claws, she didn’t need the weapon with other shifters, but when she dealt with humans, a lot of them carrying those damn cell phones with cameras around, she found it necessary. She’d rather be arrested for having an illegal weapon than end up on the cover of the Daily News as evidence of werewolves or something.

Gwen walked back to the front door and headed out with Blayne, closing the hotel door behind her.

She was glad to see that Blayne had had the cab wait for them. Halloween was a busy night in Manhattan, and she had no desire to get on the subway.

Traffic was thick, but they made it to the party in good time. The entire club had been rented out for the Kuznetsov Pack, and they could already tell tons of people had shown up. They found themselves stuck in line for a bit before reaching the front door. While they waited, Gwen glanced over and watched as a too-young-for-those-tiny-shorts Assault and Battery Park Babe rolled up to them.

Gwen shook her head at Kristan’s outfit and laughed. “Your mother is going to snap her leash when she sees you, girly-girl.”

“Can I help it if I look really good in this?” Kristan said as she gave Gwen a warm hug and then Blayne.

“She does look good,” Blayne agreed.

“Too good, if you ask me.” Gwen glared at the three cougars standing behind them, checking out the young wolfdog. She hissed and they hissed back, so she tossed in, “Jailbait.” That got them to look away, but her gaze quickly scanned the street, feeling like someone else’s eyes were on them. “Who you looking so good for?” she asked Kristan as she turned back to them.