Movement across the street caught his attention, drawing his gaze back to the entrance of Cherry on Top. Through the glass, he watched as a male dressed in faded jeans and a hooded sweater crossed the cafe to the exit.
Although he was the size of a tank and equally as battle scarred, in a community like Hunters Hollow, the locals gave him little more than a cursory glance as he passed their tables.
Dominic didn’t know these people or what had brought them to the town, but he recognized the vibe. Everyone there had a story, and none of them liked to talk about it.
Since his pack operated in a similar fashion, he not only understood it, he respected it.
The front door swung open with a melodic chime, and the male stepped out into the circle of light cast by a nearby lamppost. After looking up and down the sidewalk, he strode across the street, two cupcakes with colorful frosting balanced in one of his beefy hands.
“Well?” Dominic asked.
“These are fucking divine.” The guy held up the pastries and gave him a toothy grin. “Want one?”
He knew the asshole was baiting him, but he couldn’t hold back his growl of impatience. He had come back to this shithole for information. Not dessert.
“Is that a no?”
As his second-in-command—and his younger brother—Santiago Rivas was one of the few members of the pack not intimidated by him. Not that he expected absolute obedience, but some level of respect would be nice.
“Saint.”
“Stop growling. Have a cupcake.”
“I don’t want a fucking—”
The rest of his words ended in a muffled grunt when the spongy yellow cake suddenly filled his mouth, smearing purple frosting across his lips. And though he didn’t want to admit it, the damn thing was surprisingly good.
Airy and buttery with the barest hint of lemon, it practically melted on his tongue. The icing was creamy, tart with the taste of fresh blackberries that perfectly balanced the mild sweetness.
“Told you,” Saint said, his mouth sliding into a smirk. “Good, right?”
He made a noncommittal noise in the back of his throat as he unwrapped the treat and popped the rest of it into his mouth.
Saint’s grin widened. “If you like that, you should meet the guy who made them.”
“Tell me.”
“Young. Cute.” He paused to finish off his own cupcake. “A little on edge, but we know he’s in some kind of trouble.”
Which told him zilch.
“He’s a changeling.”
Dominic stilled, and his gaze flickered back to the bakery.
He had met plenty of changelings throughout his life, but he hadn’t come across one in decades. Partly because so few remained, and partly because they had gotten better at hiding.
“Let’s go.”
Saint didn’t move, and his expression never changed. He still wore that stupid smirk, as if he had anticipated the reaction.
Which, of course he had.
Dominic had made no secret of his disdain for the fae. Cunning, treacherous, deceitful—the fairy tales about changelings painted a fantastical but accurate picture. No, they didn’t go around stealing human children, but they did find other insidious ways to manipulate and hurt people.
“That’s bullshit, and you know it.”
He dragged his gaze away from the clouded windows of the building across the street and back to his brother. “Stay out of my head.”