Shattered: The Sundance Series

by Rider, C. P.

  "You're in a real mood tonight," I snapped as I threw my coverup over my swimsuit.

  "Well, maybe you would be too, if you hadn't gotten a good night's sleep in a week." She sank in the hot spring until her mouth was just above the water line. "Listen, it's not just the dire wolf himself. It's what he represents. His presence is a portent. A warning of things to come."

  Dottie nodded solemnly. "Evil things."

  I really wished I hadn't told Dottie not to make a margarita for me tonight.

  "Creatures like this wolf can cause all sorts of problems for a person, extending from the metaphysical into the physical world," Dottie explained. "You must be very careful, dear."

  Remembering my ruined bedsheets, I asked, "Could they make a person's nose bleed?"

  "I've never heard of it, but anything is possible." Dolores lifted and lowered her shoulder. "Nosebleeds can occur for a number of reasons—for instance, if you were overdoing it on the spiking."

  I slung the towel around my neck, and leaned against a large rock we all used as a sort of lounging spot. "Overdoing it? You told me that the telepathy was like a pressure valve for my spiking. That I needed to use it."

  "Sure, but we're not talking about simple spikes, are we? You're wearing yourself out holding back, trying to save everyone." Her tone softened. "You've come a long way from the spiker you were when you were stifling your telepathy, but you're not invulnerable. If you push too hard for too long, you'll hurt yourself, kiddo. Those headaches you get? They're a warning. If you're also getting nosebleeds, you've reached a new stage of exhaustion."

  "But I spiked a lot at the sanctuary, Dolores. I held back then, too. If this is all related to my spiking too much, why didn't it start then?"

  "Are you still struggling with the apathy in the same way?"

  I thought about the wolves in my bakery a couple of days ago. "Yes, I think so. I don’t always know if it’s apathy or the new, tougher version of me."

  "Hmm… I'd bet your spiking at the sanctuary was the beginning of the exhaustion."

  Dottie spoke up. "It's a good theory, but as we've told you, your ability is something of a mystery. Even among spikers, you're unusual."

  I decided not to tell them about the bloody tears or ear bleeds. I'd gotten the message. Spiking too much equals no bueno. Plus, I was compounding my problems by spiking humans. It was intricate, difficult to maneuver inside a human brain. They were delicate, and they didn't regenerate. If I made a mistake, they ended up either maimed or dead, unlike a shifter. I had to throttle my energy way back to work on them.

  So now I had two problems. If I believed the witches, I had some kind of wolf omen hunting me, and my spiking ability was trying to kill me.

  I took those thoughts home with me, carried them up the stairs to my apartment above the bakery, and held them in my head as I showered, put fresh sheets on my bed, and crawled beneath them.

  Sleep didn't come right away, but the moment my eyes finally slid shut, I heard a voice in my head. Why did you take your sheets to your uncle's house to wash?

  Lucas, just come upstairs.

  "Already here." He strolled into my apartment, pulled off his clothes, and slid under the covers with me. "Give me the blanket. I'm cold."

  "You're not cold. You're an opportunist." He smelled amazing, like baked sunshine on a rock, like eucalyptus and lavender, and like Lucas. "You showered at home?"

  "Yeah. I assumed you were staying at my place tonight, but when you didn't show up by ten, I figured we were playing this game again."

  "It's not a game." Drawing my hands over his chest, I leaned in to kiss him. "Sorry I didn't call. I was feeling sad tonight and I needed my things around me."

  "If you move all your things to my house, you can be around them and me. What a deal, huh?"

  "Lucas." I ran my palm over his flat stomach and lower. "Is this what you really want to talk about?"

  "Yes." He pounced, flipped me onto my back, and straddled my hips. "But it can wait for a few minutes."

  I cocked an eyebrow at him. "Only a few?"

  "And a few more after that."

  He kiss-lick-stroked his way down my body the way he had last night. I realized this was his way of loving me, not only by driving me wild sexually, but by showing me with mouth and tongue and hands how he cherished me. It was sweet and sexy, and if he didn't stop, I was going to either come or cry.

  "Lucas, now. Please."

  Wordlessly, he crawled up my body, nestling his hips between my thighs. I traced the muscles in his arms as he braced himself above me, kissed every part of him I could reach.

  "I love you," he whispered, and lowered himself, burying his face in the side of my throat as he thrust into me.

  He meant it. It was in every thrust and sigh and moan. It was in every kiss. I felt his love in my heart and soul and blood and bones.

  A short while later, I was stretched across his chest, damp and shuddering. He was trembling, too, and equally sweaty.

  "Why did you take your bedding to your uncle's house to wash instead of to my place?" he asked, repeating his question from before.

  Relentless. The man was relentless.

  "Did you seduce me to find out about my laundry?"

  "No. Besides, we both know that you seduced me. Answer the question."

  Bossy Lucas bothered me. I felt myself growing defensive. "What about it? I wasn't bothering anyone. Since the Berry family moved out and on, the house has been empty."

  The Berry family had traveled with us to Sundance from the sanctuary where they had been held against their will. I'd gotten to know the kids—Leah, Milton, and Estie—pretty well, though not as well as my friend Fiera, who had protected them for longer. Once the children's parents had physically recovered from their injuries, Lucas had helped the lion shifter family return home.

  "I miss those kids," he said. "Especially the mouthy little lion."

  "Yeah, I miss Estie, too." I rolled off him and onto my back.

  "You haven't answered my question."

  "Fine. I took my sheets to my uncle's house because they were bloody, and I didn't want you to see them."

  "I don't care about that." He huffed. "It's not as if I don't understand about a woman's—"

  "Not that sort of blood. Blood from my nose." I paused. "And my ears, eyes…"

  He rolled onto his side, facing me. "What happened?"

  I pulled the covers over my shoulders. Now that the afterglow was wearing off, I was starting to feel chilly. "Dolores thinks I might have overdone the spiking. You know it's harder for me when I have to hold back, and that day I had spiked more humans than usual. Humans are always tricky."

  He cupped my face in his hand, brushed his mouth over mine. "You need a break."

  "I need a lot of things. One of which you just supplied. The rest, I'll figure out." I kissed his earlobe, trailed more kisses down the side of his throat.

  "Not alone. We talked about this. If we're really together, we don't worry alone. We find solutions together. We share."

  "I remember."

  His whiskey-gold gaze held mine. "I want to know when things like this happen."

  For some dumb reason, my eyes clouded with tears. "I'm sorry I tried to keep that from you. It was selfish more than anything. I didn't want to worry you because then I'd have to deal with the problem—and deal with your reaction to the problem—and I didn't have the bandwidth for all that, so I said nothing."

  "Well, I won't lie. It worries me. But I'm less worried now that I know."

  It worried me, too. "I'm also still dealing with the apathy that creeps in when I use my ability. Maybe apathy isn't the right word—ambivalence? Except when I spike someone, I don't feel remorse, I simply feel nothing. I sometimes wonder if I might have handled it differently."

  "Yeah. I figured that out when you told me you spiked the memory out of Grandma Alligator."

  "It had to be done."

  "You're right. It did." He picked up my hand, rub
bed my knuckles over his lips.

  "I don't feel bad about what I did. Not even now, since I've had time to think about it." I frowned. "But then that's exactly what apathy is, right? Indifference?"

  "Sometimes we need a little mental apathy. It circumvents the side of us that would get us killed in a dangerous world and makes tough decisions easier. That might not be a bad thing."

  "Maybe…"

  "However, just in case the apathy and bleeding are connected, you should take a rest from spiking. The witches think you're overdoing it, and so do I. Chandra is busy with the bar and Amir has to go out of town for a couple of days, but Carter Reid is going to sit in the bakery with you this week on the days that I can't. Earp will be around, too. He only works evenings at the Dusty Cactus until construction starts on the kitchen."

  Disagreeing with him about being guarded was such an ingrained response in me that I started to argue. "Sit in the bakery? Lucas, I…"

  I stopped myself. It made sense. Carter Reid was a very strong alpha, and any other alpha coming into the Buena Suerte Panaderia would recognize that strength. Most would probably walk straight back out after picking up on it. I wouldn't have to spike anyone, and Carter probably wouldn't have to fight anyone. Win-win.

  Hopefully.

  Worth a try, anyway.

  Chapter Six

  By the time Friday rolled around, I'd had another three nosebleeds, though no more bloody tears. My dreams were written and directed by Wes Craven and woke me up in the middle of the night more often than my bedmate did, and Lucas Blacke was not shy about asking for what he wanted when he wanted it. I'd only slept at his place once, but he seemed okay with staying at my place most nights.

  I hadn't heard from the wolf creature again, but past history had taught me that whatever he wanted from me, he wasn't going away until either he got it or I killed him.

  "Telling you to close the bakery is probably a surefire way of making sure you don't do it, but you really need to consider your health," Chandra told me as she, Carter, and I sat at a table in my café, trying out sandwiches from her bar.

  The door was propped open and the overhead fans were spinning. I'd even opened a couple of windows. Another perfect winter day in Sundance—at least, weather-wise. Chandra didn't like me leaving the door open, and she really hated the windows being open because that meant I had to turn off the second tier of the security system she'd put in for me, but said she'd tolerate it as long as I reset the system when Carter went home.

  Because you didn't argue with Chandra on things like security, I had agreed to do so.

  "I haven't had to spike anyone since Carter started hanging out here. He's a good deterrent."

  Carter smiled shyly. He was my age, thirty, tall and broad-shouldered, with white skin and brown hair and kind eyes. I liked Carter and his wife Imogen, and their baby wolf, ReAnne. I had already started looking into shifter teething biscuit recipes for the pup and she was only three months old.

  "Aww shucks, ma'am. Just doing my job—and eating my weight in cookies. You have to stop feeding me, Neely." He shoveled a pulled pork slider into his mouth. "This one is so good."

  "You've said that about all of them," Chandra said.

  "Because they're all good." He wiped his hands on a paper napkin. "Neely's slider rolls really help make it special."

  "Well, I like the barbacoa one best. With my salsa," I said. "But the barbecue chicken is tasty too. And the pulled pork. And I even like the pastrami and roast beef ones."

  Chandra threw herself back in her chair. "You two are no help. I'm not doing a full menu. I need two or three to offer and that's it. It's mostly to help soak up some of the alcohol my customers guzzle. And an alternate stream of income, of course."

  "Why don't you ask your customers?" Carter picked up one of the barbacoa sliders and popped it into his mouth. "You could do a different sandwich each day and have them vote for their favorites. Maybe do a daily drawing for a free lunch to reward them for helping out. Keep it simple and easy."

  "That's a great idea," I said.

  "Yeah, it is." Chandra picked up her phone and began tapping on the screen. "I'll put Lupita Cortez on it."

  Lupita was the apothecary's daughter. Her younger sister, Ana, often helped me out in the panaderia in exchange for baking lessons. "You hired Lupita? That's great."

  "It's a good deal all around. She's working for me part-time in the afternoons and when Earp's unavailable." Chandra looked at Carter. "How'd you come up with that idea so fast?"

  "Used to be in corporate marketing. I ran the marketing department for a national restaurant chain for five years before I joined the Utah pack. We encouraged managers to do stuff like this all the time."

  Chandra stared into his eyes in a disturbingly intense way. "I will be picking your brain."

  Carter grinned. He had a smear of barbecue sauce on his chin that he showed no signs of wiping off. "You might also consider offering a different slider every day of the week. Like Barbacoa Fridays and Pastrami Mondays, something like that. That would help you keep costs down and buy in bulk. You'd want to offer a vegetarian and vegan option, too. Something easily stored."

  "I like it." She grabbed the last barbecue chicken sandwich and took a bite. "Yeah, that's really good."

  I slid a paper napkin across the table to Carter. "Does Lucas know you were in marketing? Because he's been trying to get the town businesses to brand themselves in a more cohesive way. At least, the ones who bother to open daily. He should put you in charge of that."

  "I didn't know Alpha was interested in branding downtown Sundance." Carter absently wiped his mouth and chin, then turned to glance out the window at our little town. I could practically see the wheels turning in his head. "I'll talk to him about it."

  "Tell him I suggested it. He loves when I'm a know-it-all. It's his favorite thing."

  "I'll bet." Carter winked.

  Chandra rose and began cleaning the plates off the table. "Got to head out. Earp's stopping by to go over some construction plans for the Cactus."

  "I think I'll close early today." I stood and pushed in my chair, walked to the nearest open window and closed it. "The deliveries are done, and the café is quiet. I'm going to take a nap before my shift at the Dusty Cactus. Plus, Carter needs to go see his wife and baby. He's going to be gone all night at the convocation, right?"

  The smile fell off Carter's face. "You know about that?"

  Chandra shook her head. One sharp shake. "She knows there's a convocation is all."

  "Why? Is there more?" I closed and locked the rest of the windows and reset the second tier of the alarm system. First tier covered the windows on the top floor—including the attic—the second tier was the windows and doors on the lower floor—sans the front door—and the third tier included the front door. There was an additional tier that Chandra called Tier three-point-five, that activated motion detectors in the café. I usually only set that one at night, though.

  "Nothing we can discuss." Chandra shook her head at Carter when he went to open his mouth. "You know how it is, Neely. Group business."

  I did, but I was also curious, because I'd never seen Lucas and Chandra be so secretive about group business. At least, not since I'd begun dating Lucas.

  "I'll tell you about it afterward," Chandra said. "Promise."

  That would have to do.

  By the time five o'clock rolled around, I was feeling refreshed. I'd taken a three-hour nap after doing my cleaning, and eaten a bowl of sopa de fideo—Mexican noodle soup—before heading down to the Dusty Cactus. I'd be home alone tonight, so I drove over in my Mini, even though it was a short walk. Badass spiker I may be, but after running into that wolf creature on New Year's, I didn't feel comfortable walking home by myself in pitch darkness.

  Lucas called as I pulled up to the bar. "Amir's back. He says he'll do some flyovers tonight to make sure you're okay. I'll have my phone with me, but there's going to be a period of time when neither Chandra nor I c
an speak. We're required to be entirely focused on the convocation. If you run into trouble, call Amir or, gods help me, the tower witches."

  "What's going on with that convocation? You're all acting weird about it."

  "Group business, sorry."

  We hung up after that and I went into the Dusty Cactus Saloon to start my shift.

  By eight p.m., I could tell it was going to be a slow night. Made sense. After all, this was predominately a shifter bar—specifically, a Blacke shifter bar. All of the patrons tonight were of the paranormal persuasion, but none were local, and it was certainly quieter than usual.

  The hours ticked by slowly. At around eleven o'clock, I had just served beer to a table of seven healers, one of whom had offered to fix any sexual problems I had—he'd backed off after I threatened to smack him so hard no one would be able to heal him—when I felt a draft behind me.

  "Hello, Miss."

  A Latino male strolled into the bar. The man was tall—six-foot-five—and appeared to be in his mid-thirties. He had olive skin tanned brown, dark blond-light brown hair, and a jawline so perfect God must have used a right angle to create it. Golden brown eyes with a green cast seemed to look right through me.

  "Hi." I should have felt relieved to see that the being who had walked into the bar was a person. I wasn't. There wasn't a solid reason why, only instinct and intuition, but I'd learned to listen to that stuff. I glossed over the man's thoughts. Nothing on his mind but beer. Also, he thought I was pretty in a decidedly less pervy way than the healer had.

  "Nice place you have here." He smiled at me as he took a seat at the bar.

  "Thanks. What can I get you?" I jogged over and tucked the cork-lined tray I'd used to serve the beers under the counter.

  "Beer. Whatever's on tap is fine. No need to rush. I was just passing through town and wanted to stretch my legs," he drawled, with a slightly southern twang, as he peered around the mostly empty room. "Slow night?"

  "Looks that way. I'm filling in for the owner, who is attending an event." I filled a mug with the closest beer on tap, tossed a coaster onto the counter, and set the mug on top. "Total or tab?"