Chapter Text
“Kira, I can’t loan you more money,” I said into the phone I was cradling between my shoulder and ear as I drove.
“Rey, please. You just have to do this one time….”
“You promised to check into a gambling anonymous.”
I watched the light change to red. It’s Vegas and traffic even during off hours sucks.
“I will. Today. But I have to get this guy the money.”
“Wait, some guy?” Normally my twin sister was completely broke from playing slots. But this sounded like more than that.
“No, just. I-I had this friend that paid me some money, up front.”
“For what?”
“Because he wanted to be nice.”
“No one hands out money to be nice. Are you into drugs?”
The light turned green and I hit the gas, already feeling a headache coming on.
“Shit no, it’s just...I thought I could play flirty without, you know....”
“Telling him you’re into women.”
“Yeah, something like that.”
I rubbed my temple. This was worse than I thought.
“So he offered you money for sex?”
“No, he offered to loan me money while I played. I was doing really well at the tables. Almost won it back,” her voice whined.
It was petulant, reminding me while she was playing nice on the phone, she in no way felt remorse for her action.
“There’s no rule against being an idiot and giving away your money to a pretty face,” I said, checking the radio clock and finding I had enough time to get coffee.
“He had me sign receipts.”
“Receipts? Why would you ever do that—. Never mind. How much?”
“A grand.”
My jaw dropped. Normally I’m paying the utility bill and keeping the lights on in her studio apartment, but this was a figure that would make a serious dent in my bank account. I work as a paralegal, not a lawyer.
“I know he’ll leave me alone once he gets it,” my sister said.
“Is he harassing you?”
I checked my rear view mirror and put my blinker on before taking the left lane. Someone honked at me and I gave them the finger.
“He showed up at my job at Subway. Didn’t threaten, but he’s pretty intimidating,” Kira said. “His voice is weird, like extra alpha, and when we first met, I think he tried to use it on me.”
“That’s creepy.”
“Dude has some weird contacts in, they glow.”
“ Glow, are you sure?”
“Yeah. Scared off every alpha at the Craps table,” she laughed.
Fucking great. Kira had stumbled onto more than a creep, she’d found a werewolf.
“Kira, do you realize what this guy is?”
“A jerk. But I don’t think he’s a loan shark because he didn’t charge interest.”
I almost told her, but decided ignorance was bliss. Bad luck always seemed to find my Kira. If there were ninety-nine fake china dishes and one authentic in a room, and you asked my sister to break one cup, she’d pick the real one every time.
“Okay, okay...so a grand will make this go away?”
“Yeah, can you put it in my account? Not the Wellsfargo one, that’s overdrawn. But the Chase one.”
“No.” I said, trying not to lecture.
Short and simple boundaries. The werewolf stalking after her was odd though. If he wasn’t a loan shark, what could he want? Another thought entered. God, could she be that unlucky?
“So you still have hazel eyes?” I half-joked, but my fingers on the wheel tightened.
“Same color as yours. Why?”
“No reason. You still dating the cop?”
“Her name is Phasma, and yes. Kind of. We’re working through...you know, my shit.”
“I’m going to add stranger danger to the list of things to work through.”
“I was going to ask her to deal with this dude, but…,” Kira trailed off. I rolled my eyes. She had no plans to tell her girlfriend, and was hoping I’d let her off the hook. “You know...you’re almost a lawyer and you would know what to say.”
I parallel parked.
“What’s his number?”
“Or I could deal with it. I’ll give him the money, I promise.”
“Sis, love you. But we both know you don’t have self-control. I’ll fix this, but you can’t fuck up like this again. This is serious.”
“Fine, I screwed up.”
For the first time her voice sounded genuine, but there’s no sorry to follow. There never is.
“You think?” I rarely deal with werewolves, but males are all at least six foot, broad and muscular. “Just give me the number.”
She did and I frowned. Area code 406 was not a local number. This could complicate things. I was hoping this was a shady bookie.
There were two types of werewolves, modern and archaic. Modern werewolves took suppressants, led normal lives and usually lived like everyone else. They married, but never had children. The pills made them sterile, but kept them from shifting on full moons.
I googled the number on my iphone; it was a Montana number. He could be on vacation, but I didn’t think so. Which meant he was probably in the latter group. Archaic. Which meant packs, shifting, volatile and, worst of all, protected by laws to preserve their heritage. Chances were he’d broken off from his pack for the sole purpose of finding a mate. Which meant he was hunting.
I hit the lock on my fob as I exited my Chevy Malibu. The dry Nevada heat enveloped me, making me glad I have an off-the-shoulder top. I pushed my sunglasses up and walked quickly toward Maz’s Mean Bean Cafe.
The cafe’s door was propped open. The coffee here was okay, but I had picked it because of the location. It was two blocks from work, and I could walk the rest of the way after I grabbed my drink. A few people were sitting down chatting, but most of the tables were empty.
I stepped behind two teenagers holding the end of a rather long line. I was going to be here for at least ten minutes, so I might as well use the downtime to deal with the day’s drama. Punching his number in my phone, I realized during my talk with Kira that I had forgotten to ask his name.
Could call him “Wolfie.” The phone rang and the idea passed. I did want to end this amicably. It rang two more times and I started to wonder if he had already moved on. Please let that be the case . On the sixth ring I heard a click.
“Hello?” I kept my voice polite. “This is Rey, Kira’s twin sister.”
No greeting, but I could hear him breathing. Which was annoying, because it was heavy. Maybe I had caught him at the gym. Still, he could say hi. When no answer came, I decided to switch tactics, hoping a blunt approach would work.
“Listen, I’m going to be straight to the point. I’ll write you a check or get you cash. But you need to leave Kira alone. You can meet me here at 203 Jakku St. If you bother my sister again, I have an attorney, who will get a restraining order in place.”
“I’ll be there in ten.”
The voice was hoarse, raspy. If I hadn’t been listening so hard, I might have missed it.
“Okay, what’s your name—?”
The phone clicked.
“Asshole,” I muttered.
One of the two girls in front of me glanced over her shoulder. I slipped the phone back into my purse and gave her a smile. The girl holding her hand shot me a look, her eyes narrowing, snaking an arm around the girl’s waist. Alpha, possessive bullshit. I took a step back, annoyed, but not ready for a fight with an adolescent who didn’t know why she wanted to fight yet.
Ten minutes passed and the girls in front of me were ordering. The line behind me stretched almost out the door. My phone buzzed with a text message from my boss, Rose.
Need Notes on Harrison vs Fisher case. Arraignment tomorrow at 8 am. Probably going to be a late night.
I sighed. I didn’t have plans, but I’d already put forty hours into the week and it was only Thursday. Why couldn’t I just tell people no. I started typing a reply when something tickled my nose. A scent. Strong. The alpha teen glanced over her shoulder and I saw her flash her teeth, heard a murmur of voices behind me.
I knew he was here even before I turned.
He wasn’t inside the cafe, his silhouette darkening the threshold. He was young, twenties, with long black hair that drifted around his angular face in tendrils. Attractive, yes, but sharp features that made him look less tame and more feral.
Gooseflesh prickled my arms and made the hairs on my nape stand up. Before our eyes could meet, I turned to give him my back. My heart was beating rabbit-fast. The two girls having given their order moved aside, the alpha keeping her hand tight on the other girl’s hand.
Trying to fake normality, I stepped to the counter and studied the menu I already knew. A few deep breaths and I had calmed my nerves enough that he wouldn’t see anything but indifference when our eyes did meet. He could get in line or wait for me to get my order. I didn’t want him to feel for one instant that he controlled the room.
“White mocha over ice.” I ordered.
The barista’s blue eyeshadow was the same color as her hair. When she didn’t respond or pick up the plastic cup, I realized she wasn’t paying me the slightest bit of attention.
I heard the sound of footsteps. They echoed on the floor with a click that reminded me of striking flint, coming closer and closer until they stopped behind me. I didn’t turn around. Instead, I repeated my order, trying once again to attract the barista’s attention.
“She’ll have tea, chamomile.” A voice rumbled, followed by a firm hand on my shoulder.
I tried to turn, but his fingers dug in, making me wince.
“Knock that off,” I snapped. “And I’m not having tea, fuck off.”
The barista still hadn’t looked at me. I was invisible.
“What will you have?” the barista said.
She licked her lips, and I could see her pupils dilate slightly. Great. Well she could have him.
“Coffee, black,” he answered.
She rang up the order. He let go of me and reached for his wallet. Having the freedom to move, I spun around, angry enough to forget what he was.
“Listen you over-sized dog,” I said, my finger pushed into his shirt, finding a solid wall of muscle. He watched me, a hint of a smile on his lips. “Touch me again and I’ll call the cops.”
“Big words from such a small kitten,” he tutted before he handed the barista a twenty from his wallet. She took it, fluttering her eyelashes as she tucked a hair demurely behind her ear. When she opened the drawer for change, he waved her to shut it. “Keep what’s left.”
I huffed, seething. I wasn’t leaving without my white mocha, and he wasn’t going to win some misogynistic battle of wills. When he stepped aside, expecting me to follow, I pulled out my wallet.
“I’ll take the drink I ordered, twenty-four ounce.”
I normally order a sixteen ounce, but he was extra pissing me off. She didn’t ring me up, but was looking at me oddly. Another twenty slapped on the counter, making me jump.
“Let her have it,” he grumbled, and when I dug in my purse for my card, I saw his eyes flash with irritation.
I didn’t want a fight in a public place and I didn’t have the patience to deal with his bullshit.
“I’m taking my drink and leaving. You can call Rose Tico.”
I fumbled for one of her business cards. I’d call her the moment I left, explain the fiasco, and let her deal with this creep.
“Sit down there,” he said, his voice dropping as he pointed to an empty table. “If you make me ask again, you’re going to get the tea.”
I stared at my shoes. My hand dropped from my purse, the act beyond my control. What just happened? He didn’t use the alpha voice on me--but my entire being responded as if he had.
This wasn’t possible. Nausea rolled in my gut, churning my insides, cold sweat breaking out on my forehead. I felt his control in every fiber of my being, and fighting it made me sicker. It was not until I made a conscious effort to obey that it snapped enough that I could move.
Nodding, I walked toward where he pointed, feeling him watching me. I pulled the chair out, the legs scraped loudly on the floor. The cafe’s silence alerting me. I had everyone’s attention. I had enough pride to keep my chin up, not meeting their eyes. I sat, hoping my obedience was enough.
I could tell he was weighing my docility. This strange man whose name I still don’t know, and hopefully I would never know, gave me an approving nod, as if letting me know I had done well. There would be more of that, probably an ocean of backwood beliefs that would drown me if I couldn’t flee. The barista called him. For what I don’t know. He turned. This might be the only chance I got.
Pushing off from the table, I bolted.