Shift Happens

by Carrie Pulkinen

  He crossed his arms over his chest, his biceps bunching as they contracted, looking sexy as hell and doing it on purpose. “You may be able to control animals with your mind, but the man is in control of this werewolf.”

  “Why’s he talking about controlling animals?” Jane strutted in and perched on the arm of the sofa.

  “He’s accusing me of kidnapping his friend and putting a curse on his pack. Something about forcing them to shift. I don’t know.” Sophie threw her arms in the air. “Will you watch him while I get dressed?”

  “Shouldn’t you both put on some clothes?” Jane swept her gaze over Trace, nodding her approval. “Or not.”

  “He came here naked.”

  Jane’s eyes widened.

  “I was in wolf form when she supposedly mistook me for a dog and brought me inside. My clothes are in a muddy pothole on Royal Street.” He turned to Sophie. “This doesn’t have to be difficult. Just tell me where Jackson is, lift the curse, and we’ll be on our way. I won’t tell the witches what you did; my pack won’t start a war, no harm done.”

  Sophie looked at Jane with pleading eyes. Luckily, that was all it took for her BFF to take action.

  “Go get dressed.” Jane tugged her phone from her pocket. “I’ll call Ethan and get him and Gaston to come. This is way over my head.” She looked at Trace. “What are you? About a 34/36?”

  He nodded. “How’d you know?”

  “I worked retail for a little while.”

  Sophie marched into her bedroom and tossed her pepper spray in the drawer. Trace didn’t seem like a threat, and even if he were, he’d be no match for a bunch of vampires. She threw on some skinny jeans and a lowcut sweater. Even if the guy was accusing her of crimes she couldn’t possibly commit, he was hot as sin. No harm in flaunting her physical gifts, including the rack she spent four grand on.

  She returned to the living room to find Jane chatting with the intruder like they were old friends. “Did you know Trace is a police officer? A werewolf and a man in uniform. You hit the jackpot.”

  “I’m taking a leave of absence from my job until the culprit is apprehended,” he said.

  So his outfit at the Halloween party wasn’t a costume. He was a real cop. His ranking on the sexy scale just tipped over the edge. “Too bad he thinks I’m the culprit.” Sophie sank into the recliner and crossed her legs, grinning as Trace’s gaze landed on her chest. Her pupils weren’t the only ones dilating. Take that, Mr. Sexy Wolfman.

  “Can y’all explain this from the beginning?” Jane asked. “These bits and pieces you’re throwing at me aren’t making any sense.”

  “He pretended to be a dog so I’d bring him inside my apartment. While I was in the shower, he turned back human and started throwing accusations like spaghetti, seeing what he could make stick.”

  “I wasn’t pretending anything. You forced me to shift.”

  “Hold on, both of you.” Jane held up her hands. “Back it up all the way. Trace, I think you have details we’re missing.”

  He narrowed his eyes at Sophie for a moment before focusing on Jane. “A little over a week ago, Jackson Altuve went missing from the pack. I talked to him that afternoon, and he told me he was hooking up with a witch. No one has seen him since.”

  “Okay,” Jane said. “Now we’re getting somewhere. Soph, did you go out with Jackson?”

  She scoffed. “No! Whose side are you on?”

  “I’m just trying to get all the facts. Trace, why do you think Sophie is responsible for Jackson’s disappearance?”

  “Because our Alpha met with the coven’s high priestess. She questioned every registered witch in the French Quarter, under oath. They all denied it.”

  “Well, someone obviously lied,” Sophie said.

  “And risk having her magic bound for life?” Trace shook his head. “No witch in her right mind would take that chance. The coven values honesty and truth. They don’t take lightly to liars.”

  Another knock sounded on the door, and Ethan and Gaston strolled in. Ethan’s face was serious, like always, and he said something to Jane in her mind because she smiled and nodded, taking the clothes he offered her and handing them to Trace.

  Must be nice to have all those special powers. All Sophie had was a yummy scent only supes could smell and furry armpits.

  She introduced the vampires to the werewolf…will this ever feel normal?...and Trace disappeared into the bedroom to finally put some clothes on as she and Jane updated the guys on his story.

  Gaston laughed. “He thinks you’re responsible for cursing his pack?”

  “She’s the only unregistered witch in the Quarter whose magic hasn’t been tested. She has to be responsible.” Trace stood at the living room entrance wearing faded jeans and a gray t-shirt that hugged his muscular chest. Woof.

  “I can assure you, wolf, that Miss Sophie had nothing to do with a curse on your pack.” Gaston rested his elbows on the arms of the chair. “She has no magical powers. You can see that in her aura.”

  “She’s hiding them. I can smell the magic on her.” He sauntered into the room and offered his hand to Ethan. “Thank you for the clothes. I’ll pay you back when I find my wallet.”

  “No problem.” Ethan rested a hand on Jane’s knee. “Tell us about the curse. Someone is forcing you to shift?”

  “It started on Halloween night. I was at your party, keeping tabs on Sophie, when her magic slammed into me like a baseball bat to my skull. I managed to stumble into the courtyard before I shifted and blacked out. When I woke up, I hid my uniform in the brush because I couldn’t shift back.”

  “So you bit me because you thought I made you shift?” Unbelievable. It figured her first werewolf would be the bite first, ask questions later type.

  “I hid in the bushes when you came out, and when you found me, your magic subdued my wolf. He wanted to roll over and let you scratch his belly, but I held him back. I was trying to run, but you kept reaching for me. My wolf wanted to go to you; I wanted to bolt. The signals got crossed, and I accidentally bit. I didn’t mean to, and I’m sorry for that.”

  “Well.” She crossed her arms, lifting her chin defiantly. “Thank you for finally apologizing, but I did not make you shift, and I don’t know your friend. You’re the first werewolf I’ve ever met, and like Gaston said, I don’t have any powers. My grandmother was a witch, and that’s what you smell. Believe me, the witches don’t want me in their coven. I’ve tried. Now.” She stood and dusted imaginary lint from her jeans. This was all too much to process, and with her hormones battling for control of her brain, it was best if Trace was far, far away. “I’d like you to leave. I’ve had about all I can take tonight.”

  Trace glanced at the vampires as if weighing his options, but honestly, what more could he do? He couldn’t prove Sophie had anything to do with his friend or his pack problems, because she didn’t. It was his word against hers, and she had three badass vampires backing her up.

  With a heavy sigh, he stood and shuffled toward the door. “Do you have a pen and paper, so I can leave you my number?” He gestured to her arm. “If anything happens with the bite, we’ll need to take care of you.”

  Take care of her how? By nurturing her or by taking her out? “Nothing’s going to happen with it. It’s healing just fine.”

  “Please? For my peace of mind.”

  “Fine.” Anything to get him out the door. It wasn’t like she actually had to call the man. She marched to the kitchen and grabbed a pen and a Post-It note.

  He scribbled his name and two phone numbers on the yellow sheet. “The second one is my landline, just in case something happens before I get a new phone. I’m sure my old one is toast.”

  “I’d say I’m sorry, but I’m not the one who made you shift. And if you hadn’t been stalking me, you wouldn’t have been in the street to begin with.”

  With a sardonic chuckle, he straightened his spine and opened the door. “I’m sorry we didn’t meet under different circumstances, Soph
ie. Your bed is comfortable.” He winked and slipped out the door.

  She clenched her teeth, angry, not at him, but at herself for the stupid flutter in her belly his comment caused. She should have been offended. Hell, a normal woman would have at least been a little scared of a big, burly, dominant guy like Trace, but all Sophie could think about was the shape of his body, the cut of his muscles, and all the things she’d like to do with his dick.

  “This is an interesting event turning.” Gaston rose to his feet, his eyes glinting with his devilish smile. “I told you you’d be better off with a vampire.”

  “It’s turn of events, and I’ve told you cold and dead is not my type.”

  “Undead.” Gaston smirked. “There’s quite a difference, ma chère.” He winked, and Sophie wanted to laugh, but the gravity of the situation weighed her down.

  “Can you guys excuse us for a second? I need to talk to Jane privately.”

  Gaston bowed. “We’ll be right outside the door.”

  Jane looked at Ethan. “Take him down the street. This is girl stuff.”

  “Got it.” Ethan escorted Gaston out of the apartment, and Sophie motioned for Jane to follow her to the bathroom.

  “Promise you won’t tell anyone what I’m about to show you?” Sophie held up her hand, and Jane linked her pinky finger with hers.

  “On my life.”

  Sophie tilted her head.

  Jane sighed. “On my undead life. What’s going on? You’re on the pill, aren’t you? Did he hurt you? Does he have a disease?”

  “No, he didn’t touch me, and yes, of course I’m on the pill. Look at this.” She pulled the toilet paper bundle from the medicine cabinet and unwrapped the contents.

  Jane peered at her hand. “What is that?”

  “It’s fur, Jane. Fucking fur.”

  Chapter Four

  “You were in her house, and you found nothing?” Teresa shook her head, unbelieving.

  “Not a thing.” Trace glanced into the Alpha’s eyes before lowering his gaze, showing respect to the woman in charge of his pack. “No trace of Jackson and not even a splash of magic.”

  His back ramrod straight, he clasped his hands in his lap and glanced at the portraits on the wall. Three Alphas, all men, stared back, their judgmental gazes boring into him, making him sweat. Teresa was the first female Alpha in the history of his pack, sworn in fifty years ago after a war with the neighboring gray wolves cut the red wolf population in half.

  The office, an expansive room in the Alpha’s two-story cabin in the woods, boasted rustic hardwood floors and brick-lined walls. A massive oak desk took up a quarter of the space, and Trace sat in the center of a line of seven wooden chairs facing it.

  Teresa wore her dark brown hair pulled back in a tight bun, and she crossed her arms, the vinyl office chair squeaking as she leaned back and narrowed her eyes skeptically. “Did you look, or were you too busy dipping your pen in the enemy’s inkwell?”

  He blinked once, refusing to flinch at the verbal slap in the face. “No, ma’am. I didn’t lay a finger on the witch. I went in with the mission, and only the mission, in mind.” Maybe that was stretching the truth a little, but his attraction to Sophie didn’t matter as long as his actions reflected the pack’s interest in her and not his own.

  The witch was beautiful, kind, caring, great with animals. And she wasn’t the slightest bit embarrassed when he called her out for trying to defend herself with a vibrator, which hinted at how adventurous she might be in the sack. His lips attempted to curve into a smile, but he fought the urge, keeping his expression neutral. If the Alpha knew his real feelings for Sophie, he’d be off this case quicker than a vampire could down a pint of blood.

  “This is your chance to redeem yourself,” she said. “To prove you still deserve to be my First Lieutenant.”

  “I know.” He clenched his teeth, trying to keep his mind out of Sophie’s bedroom.

  “Jackson is your best friend.”

  “Yes, ma’am. I won’t screw it up.”

  Ever since that wood nymph who’d hidden all the prey animals from his pack seduced him, he’d been busting his ass to prove he still deserved to be the Alpha’s second. In his defense, she had put him under a spell. He didn’t know his snout from his tail when he was around the nymph, and Teresa herself had come in to save him and chase the creature away.

  The minute the nymph left New Orleans, the spell was broken, and Trace could think straight again, but he’d been wary of anyone with magical powers ever since.

  He should have been wary of the witch. He was until he woke up naked in her bed. Her stunned reaction wasn’t fake, and he couldn’t fathom a reason why she’d force-shift him back to human in the first place. Her magic centered around animals, so she wouldn’t have given up control. Something didn’t add up.

  “Do you want me to make another appointment with the high priestess?” he asked. “Maybe they missed a witch during the questioning.”

  “Don’t you dare. Our relations with the coven are already on edge. They held up their end of the truce by questioning everyone under oath. The culprit is unregistered, untested, and there’s only one untested witch in the French Quarter.”

  “I don’t think Sophie is responsible. She doesn’t seem capable—”

  “Like that nymph didn’t seem capable of setting up a magical barrier to keep all the prey out of our hunting grounds?”

  “That was different,” he grumbled, sounding more like a pouting child than a grown-ass man. Get yourself together. You’re acting like a scolded pup.

  “Was it different?” She rose to her feet and paced behind her desk. “She has vampires vouching for her. Why not witches? The coven is convinced she’s not a threat, but I’m not. She’s hiding something, and you need to find out what.”

  “How would you like me to proceed?”

  “I need someone to get close to her. Befriend her and her vampire allies. Can I trust you with the job, or should I send in one of the new recruits?”

  His hackles rose. Trace was the pack’s First Lieutenant. It was his job to handle situations like this, not some fledgling working his way up the ranks. “You can count on me, Alpha. I learn from my mistakes.”

  “Good. The French Quarter is still under quarantine, so spend as little time there as possible. I expect a report in three days, if not sooner.”

  “Yes, ma’am. I won’t let you down.” He turned to leave.

  “Trace.” She fixed him with a serious gaze. “She’s not part of the coven, so the truce doesn’t apply. Once you find Jackson, you’re authorized to use any means necessary to end her magic.”

  Pressing his lips into a hard line, he nodded once and stepped out the door. As soon as it clicked shut, he leaned against the wall and closed his eyes. Teresa’s any means necessary line was a silent order, one he’d be obliged to obey under different circumstances. But the Alpha didn’t know he’d already screwed up this mission by biting Sophie. She could be one of them by the end of the month, and then what? Taking out their own kind was illegal.

  Red wolves had dwindled in numbers nearly to the point of extinction. Their non-shifting cousins hadn’t been spotted in Louisiana in years, and Trace’s pack, though strong, was one of the smallest in the country. If Sophie did become a shifter, and she mated within the pack…

  He ground his teeth. The witch was the enemy. No matter how hot a fire she lit in his core, he had to remember his mission, and his mission did not include getting Sophie into bed and especially not claiming her as his mate. His attraction to her was clouding his judgment, and that ended now.

  Straightening his spine, he marched out of the Alpha’s cabin and into the forest. He’d have to take care of this before the next full moon. There was no way around it.

  “You were such a good boy today, Ruger.” Sophie sat on a concrete block outside the entrance to Louis Armstrong Park to rest her aching feet and scratched the Boston terrier behind the ears. “I’ll have to let your dad kno
w to give you some extra treats tonight.”

  She peered across Rampart, the divided street on the outskirts of the French Quarter, and smiled as a little girl waved from the window of a passing streetcar. Ruger’s home, an orange two-story Creole cottage, stood across the intersection, with a divided shotgun home on one side and an expansive three-story brick hotel on the other.

  A man with a fluffy chocolate Pomeranian walked by, making Ruger’s ears perk up. Sophie rested a hand on the Boston terrier’s back, and he sat still as the Pom trotted toward them, sniffing Sophie’s ankles.

  She tried to say hello to the man, but her brain couldn’t decide whether hi or good morning was appropriate, so it came out as, “Hide ’orning.”

  “Hello.” The man tilted his head, flashing a hesitant smile before tugging his dog down the street.

  Sophie sighed, and as she straightened her spine, rotating her ankles to loosen the tension, a wave of dizziness washed over her. The edges of her vision darkened, her entire body shuddering—no, shaking—like a wet dog trying to dry its coat.

  She gasped, and, glancing up and down the street to be sure she hadn’t attracted any attention, she slipped her hand through the neck of her shirt to feel her armpit. Whew. Fur-free. That full-body shudder was the werewolf magic leaving her system. Yeah, that’s what it was.

  Ruger made a whining sound in his throat, and as she reached down to comfort him, the dog latched onto her leg and started going to town on her shin like it was his personal plaything.

  “Ew! Ruger, no. Bad dog.” She pried the terrier from her leg, but the moment she set him on the concrete, he went at it again, moving his little hips like he was the Energizer Bunny with a fresh set of batteries.

  “Ugh!” She stood, yanking her leg from Ruger’s love grip as she tightened his leash, holding him at arm’s length and marching across the intersection. “What’s gotten into you?” He pranced and bounced, excited as all get-out, until she shoved him through his front door and locked him in his house.