Staring in the direction Adara had gone, Logan nonetheless knew when the leech reached him. Close enough to launch a low-voiced harangue. "What are you doing here?"
"What's it look like I'm doing? Enjoying a beer." Logan gestured to this empty bottle. Not that one was enough to make a dent. Werewolves metabolized alcohol quickly. To get drunk, they needed the really strong shit, the kind fermented in the backwoods and not legally sold on any shelves.
"You shouldn't be here. The pack has their own establishment," Titus pointed out.
"Yup." Werewolf bars were a must. A place where the predator shifters could go, unwind, shoot a game of pool, throw some darts, indulge in some arm wrestling, take a woman in heat into the alley and bay at the moon.
He could feel Titus bristling behind him, the change in his scent indicating irritation.
Good.
"You followed Adara here," the vampire stated.