by T. S. Joyce
Kane chuckled and shook his head. “I was only picking up extra shifts for money.”
“For what? I’ve seen your shit-shack. It can’t be that expensive,” she said with a wink.
“Who’s judgmental now?” At least Kane’s smile was more genuine. “I was earning money to help out a friend.” He cleared his throat and amended, “I mean an ally. It’s complicated. Spill your gravy story, and I’ll buy you a drink. I need some entertainment other than my team getting their asses kicked by Germany.” He dragged his attention from the television to her. “Deal?”
Alana looked longingly at the exit. She’d planned a long night of eating her weight in carbs, snarfing rocky road ice cream out of the carton, giving herself a pedicure, and then watching a rom-com in her baggiest, most unflattering pajamas. But maybe this was good, unloading to a stranger. Sure, she’d known Kane for a couple years. Everyone knew everyone in a small town, but the supposed dragon shifter with the deep limp on one side was a bit of a mystery to everyone. He was notorious for being a good listener, but also for never sharing a single thing about himself. So, in that regard, he really was a stranger.
“Fine. I want a Whiskey Sour, and I want extra maraschino cherries.”
Kane snorted but gave her order to the new bartender whose nametag read Bubba.
Drat’s was hopping tonight, but it was always busy on Thursday nights. To keep her story quiet, she scooted closer to Kane and lowered her voice. “I fell into like with a guy, but he and I come from two totally different worlds.”
Kane’s face remained blank of the shock she’d expected from him, and he slurped loudly on what looked like an Old Fashioned. She’d thought her Romeo and Juliet-esque love scandal would’ve earned her at least an impressed eyebrow raise, but nope.
So she continued. “He’s like you—”
“Wait, what do you mean like me?”
“A…you know…shifter.”
“That’s a dangerous game you’re playing,” he said in an odd tone.
“Yeah, I get that now, but it hasn’t stopped my feelings for him. Which don’t even matter because he freaked out and left my house after we…kissed…and it’s been two days, and he hasn’t called or stopped by my café, nothing. Just, no contact. He cold-turkey cut me off.”
“Oookay, what’s his name?” Kane asked, his voice gravelly.
“Aaron.”
Kane had been in the middle of stirring his ice with two tiny straws, but froze at the name. “Aaron Keller?”
Alana scrunched up her nose. “Yeah.”
Kane huffed a surprised sound and then gave a come-hither gesture with a flick of his fingertips to a man readying to break the balls on one of the pool tables.
“I’m not your dog, Blackwing. Ask me politely,” said the musclebound man with the bright blue eyes as he leaned forward to line up his shot.
Kane muttered, “Fuckin’ asshole,” then a little louder, “can you please come here and clear something up?”
The clack of the pool balls breaking was so loud and powerful, Alana jumped. And then the giant muttered something much too low for Alana to hear, kissed a dark-headed woman waiting her turn, shoved a red-headed titan in the shoulder playfully, and sauntered over toward them.
“Holy balls, he’s coming this way.” In a whisper-scream, Alana told Kane, “I’m not discussing my life with someone I’ve never met before!”
“Wyatt James of the Bloodrunner Crew, this is Alana Warren of the human variety.”
Wyatt’s eyebrows went up, and he muttered, “Oh, shit!” And then he shook her hand hard enough to rattle her teeth together. “Nice to meet you. Aaron’s told us about you.” He twisted his torso and whistled sharply at the others while Alana rubbed her sore hand.
“So Aaron is in your crew?” she asked.
Wyatt nodded. “Her crew, actually.” He jerked his chin at the pretty brunette who was approaching with an easy smile.
“Your crew?” she asked, stunned. She’d never heard of a female alpha, but one look at her eyes, and Alana had the feeling this woman was much more than she seemed. She had one soft brown human eye, and a blue dragon eye.
“Harper,” she introduced herself. Her hand was hot as lava when Alana touched her, so she made it a quick shake and then cooled her palm on the ice-filled Whiskey Sour Bubba had just set in front of her.
“I’m Alana,” she murmured, shocked at meeting Aaron’s crew without him. This should probably be awkward because of Aaron’s finger-bang-and-run, but it wasn’t.
“I’m Ryder,” the redheaded giant introduced himself. But instead of shaking her hand, he stood beside her and held out his phone in front of them. “Smile,” he directed. “We’re gonna make Aaron so jealous.”
She gave a smile she was pretty sure looked like a grimace, the phone clicked, and Ryder went to poking buttons on his phone.
“Uh, I’m pretty sure Aaron won’t be jealous, though. We parted weirdly. He stopped talking to me.”
“He didn’t stop on purpose,” a man with bright green eyes and a camouflage baseball cap said from behind the others. “He’s out of town right now.”
“That’s Weston,” Wyatt said.
“Hi, Weston,” Alana said. “Wait. Weston. Wes? Are you a raven shifter?”
“How did you know?” Harper asked, her eyes narrowing with suspicion.
Weston shook his head in warning, and his eyes darkened, so Alana covered for him. Instead of tattling to his alpha about Weston the Peeping Raven, she shrugged and answered, “Just a lucky guess.”
“Aaron’s definitely jealous.” Ryder chortled with glee and held up his phone. There was a string of middle finger cartoons from someone called Butt-Monkey. Aaron, she would venture a guess.
She scrolled up and read Ryder’s first message. “Hey Aaron, I just found my future ex-girlfriend. Definitely a ten. Claimed.”
Alana laughed and shook her head as the others ordered drinks from Bubba.
When she turned around, Kane had moved down to the end of the bar and was watching the game again.
Wyatt followed her gaze. “He prefers solitude.”
There was something tragic about that, being in a bar full of people just like him but keeping himself separate.
“You said Aaron went out of town?” she asked Weston as he settled at the bar beside her.
“Asheville needed some volunteers at their fire department to cover for a bunch of the firefighters that got food poisoning. His Fire Chief sent him and Bryant up yesterday.”
Oh. “Well, he could’ve let me know what was going on.”
Weston pulled his phone from his back pocket and hit a speed dial number. “You don’t strike me as a woman who waits around for a man to call.”
Well, she wasn’t, but how Weston had come to that conclusion after just a few words between them, she had no clue. He slid his ringing phone over toward her.
“Hey, Wes,” a deep, familiar timbre answered.
In a rush, Alana scooped up the phone and said, “Hey.”
“Alana? Woman, do you ever pick up the phone at the coffee shop?”
“Well, no. It’s in the office, and I’m usually busy up front or in the kitchen.”
“I thought you were pissed at me and ignoring my calls on purpose. I didn’t have your cell number. Look, we need to talk. I’ve been going nuts up in Asheville thinking you hated me. I’m on my way back to Bryson City right now. Are you gonna be up late tonight?”
She sighed, expelling a hundred pounds of stress with the breath. He wasn’t mad at her, or ignoring her. He wasn’t shutting her out. Aaron had just been working. “Don’t you tease me and not show up. I have ice cream at the apartment and a pretty new nail polish. We can best-friend it.”
“Fuck the friends talk. You and I both know that’s off the table now.” Was that a spark of humor in his voice?
“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” she said coyly.
“Can I come over?” he asked.
&nb
sp; Alana gave Weston a sideways glance, but he was busy talking to Ryder now. Softly, she murmured into the phone, “Come over me? I do believe you’ve already covered that base. Splurt splurt.”
Aaron blasted a single laugh, then lowered his voice. “Yeah, that escalated fast. I can’t stop thinking about it.” Static sounded through the speaker, like he was holding the phone to his shoulder. There was also faint talking in the background.
“Where are you?” she asked.
“Filling up on gas. The attendant is looking at me right now like I’m about to rob the place.”
“Well, you look like a criminal.”
“Accept the tattoos, woman. They aren’t going anywhere. Say yes. Come on, Alana. Say yes.”
She could imagine him there, boot on the curb as the gas nozzle hung from the tank of his bike, the smile she heard in his voice stretching his lips as he waited for her answer.
She let him dangle for a moment before she gave in. “Fine. I’m not dressing up for you this time, though. You’ll have to win that effort back.”
“Great. Wear nothing. I’ll be there in an hour. Don’t let Ryder hug you.” Aaron swallowed audibly over the line, then said, “I like you.” And then the line went dead, as if he’d hung up before he could take it back.
A mushy squeal bubbled up her throat as she shrugged her shoulders up to her ears. He liked her!
Weston’s eyes were on her lips when she handed him his phone back and murmured her thanks.
There was a furrow of worry between his dark brows, but Weston was polite enough when he said, “You’re welcome.”
Over the next half an hour, she nursed her drink and settled in to the easy banter of the Bloodrunner Crew. She, Alana Warren, frail human, sat in the middle of a rough-and-tumble crew of shifters and held her own. And no one blatantly stared at the scar on her lip while she talked, and no one treated her any differently because she didn’t have an animal inside of her.
When she stood to leave, she pulled the money out of her pocket to pay for her to-go order. Aaron’s paperclip fell out onto the floor. “Oh no!” She knelt down to retrieve it, but Harper squatted down in a blur and picked up the old rusty trinket first.
Harper got the strangest expression on her face as she stared at it. “Is this Aaron’s?” she asked as soft as a whisper.
“He gave it to me.”
Harper’s unnerving eyes jerked up to hers, and a slow smile spread across her lips. “Do you know what this is?”
She thought it was just a little piece of trash he’d given her from his pocket on a whim, but from the way Harper was acting, perhaps it was something bigger. Alana shook her head.
“When Aaron was a kid, he would collect little treasures. And the first time he met his dad, he gave him a paperclip. And big old dominant Breck Crew alpha, Cody Keller, still carries that old paperclip wherever he goes.” Harper pressed the bent metal into Alana’s palm and closed her fist around it. “Aaron started carrying this one when he figured out how much it meant to his dad, and it’s been his good luck charm ever since. We all used to tease him about it as a kid, but he didn’t care. If he gave it to you, you’re something special, Alana.” Harper helped her up and held out her palm.
“You want the paperclip?” Alana asked, confused. She definitely wasn’t going to part with it now, or ever, after Harper had enlightened her what it really meant to Aaron.
“Nope. Your phone.”
Alana pulled it out of her purse and handed it to Harper so fast she almost dropped it.
Harper fiddled on there for a couple minutes and then handed it back. “Now you have all of our numbers, including Aaron’s. He’s my cousin, and I was kind of afraid he would never like someone like this. I was scared he would never connect, you know?” Harper hugged Alana’s shoulders tight, warming her skin with just the brief embrace. “You call me if you ever need anything.”
“Okay, I will,” Alana said, eyes bugging out of her head as the alpha of the Bloodrunner Crew released her. “Um, Harper? If you ever feel like coming to Bryson city early, coffee is on me at the café. It’s just down the street. It has my name on the sign out front.”
“I’ll visit you this week,” Harper promised. “I need someone to talk about normal stuff with. I don’t know any ladies around here yet, and I need a break from all the fart jokes.”
Ryder looked at his alpha with a truly offended expression. “What’s wrong with fart jokes?”
Harper sighed tiredly and squeezed Alana’s hand, offered her a see-what-I-mean look, then made her way toward the door with the glowing red exit sign above it.
As Alana waved off the Bloodrunner Crew and watched them file through the door and out into the night beyond, another layer of confusion settled into her chest.
Tonight had just made her decision to move or stay even harder.
Chapter Eleven
Popcorn
Hair in a messy bun
Sexy leopard-print push-up bra
Cherry flavored lip gloss
Cutest pajama set
Mood music
Romantic comedy
Alana checked the TV, the glowing screen paused on the opening credits of a classic mushy movie. With a satisfied sigh, she marked out the last of her to-do list with a purple gel pen. Then she tossed the scribbled paper into the trash just as a knock sounded on the door. She took a moment to ball her hands up and run in place, silently squealing with excitement. Too much energy. She had to get herself under control or she would start shaking in front of Aaron. Be cool.
Alana tiptoed over to the mirror right beside the door, checked herself once, then blew out three quick breaths before she pulled open the door.
Her disappointment was instantaneously consuming. It wasn’t Aaron at the door, but a tall, lanky man with brown mussed hair and the same navy blue Bryson City Fire Department shirt Aaron wore on his shifts.
Her heart dropped to the ground as realization suddenly flooded over her. “Is Aaron okay?”
“Yeah, yeah, of course. Sorry. I’m not here with bad news, and I’m really sorry it’s so late.” He put his hands on the doorframe and looked around inside her house. “I’m a friend of Aaron’s and was wondering if I could come in and talk to you for a minute? It’s important.”
“It’s midnight.”
“Yeah.” The man linked his hands behind his neck and gave her a charming hot-guy grin. That shit would’ve worked on her last week, but Aaron’s was better. “Again, I’m so sorry about the time. Can I come in?”
“I’m not comfortable with that. I’m glad to meet another friend of Aaron’s, but whatever you need to talk about, you can do from there. Or tomorrow. Tomorrow would be good.”
The man’s eyes flashed with a surprising coolness for just a moment before it was gone. He looked down the street and let off a laugh that echoed around her porch and bounced around in her head. Chills rippled up her spine, and with a gasp, she shoved the door to close it.
“Stop.” The word was clear as a bell, but the man’s mouth hadn’t moved from the cruel, twisted smile.
Alana stood frozen, holding the edge of her door, trying and failing to move a single muscle to close it.
“You don’t want to do that. Don’t want to do that. Don’t want to.” The deep, dark words tumbled over each other in her mind. “Invite me in. Invite me. Invite me in, Alana Warren.”
Fuck you. She wanted to say it so badly. The words sat there on the end of her tongue, ready like ammunition in the chamber of a gun. But when she forced air past her vocal cords, all that came out was, “Won’t you come in?”
She whimpered as her traitorous hand opened the door wider.
The man wore a pleased expression as he murmured, “Good girl,” and stepped one echoing, ominous boot onto her wooden floors, then shut and locked the door behind him.
Linking his hands behind his back, he made his way slowly around her living room, looking at this and that while Alana stood plastered against the wall, no
more mobile than the old sconce beside her cheek. She tried with everything she had to move a single muscle. Just one, so she could be in control of her body again, but she couldn’t. “Wh-who are you?”
“I’m Aric.” He turned to her and lifted his chin proudly. “I’ll be your maker.”
“No.” Her eyes burned with the realization of what he was. Of what she’d stumbled into. Vampire. No, no, no, this wasn’t happening. Alana sucked in air and screamed, “Aaron!”
Aric disintegrated into hundreds of fluttering, flapping bats immersed in a thick, purple smoke, the tendrils reaching for her.
“Help me!” she screamed.
Aric appeared in front of her, inches away, and cupped his hand roughly over her mouth, stifling her shriek. “Shhhh.” Aric canted his head and dipped his gaze to her neck. “The last leader of my coven liked pain. She liked people to scream while she drank them up, but I’m not like her. Don’t be scared. Don’t cry. This won’t hurt much. I’ll be gentle and fast, and when you wake up, you will have paid the Bloodrunner Dragon’s debt.”
Alana opened her mouth to tell him she didn’t understand. To beg him not to do this, not to hurt her, but as his lips curled back, her words died in her throat. His teeth were razor sharp, growing longer by the second.
She was going to die here, alone with this monster. She wouldn’t be able to say goodbye to her dad, Lissa, or her nieces. There would be no more breathless moments with Aaron. There would only be pain, and then nothing at all.
“You’re going to stay still for me, won’t you Alana? So I don’t hurt you any more than I have to. No screaming. Say it.”
He pulled his hand off her mouth, and she choked on the words as she repeated, “No screaming.”
Move body! Do something! Don’t just stand here and die!
An almost-human emotion flitted across Aric’s eyes—regret perhaps—before he inhaled deeply and leaned into her. She could feel the warmth of his breath and the sharp points of his fangs. A single tear slipped down her cheek as she fought off the vision of Aaron’s lips right before he’d kissed her. Her mind was trying to run to something good, but he didn’t belong here in this dark moment. She couldn’t taint her memory of Aaron like that.