With her morning round complete, she plopped onto Ruger’s front steps and checked her phone. Three new inquiries for dog walking had come in overnight. Add those to the six on the waiting list, and it was time she hired some help. She might even look into renting an office space if this branch was going to get as big as her Austin home base.
Business was finally starting to take off, and Sophie was looking at possibly turning into a dog herself. Fan-friggin-tastic. She shoved her phone in her pocket and rose to her feet. If all the dogs started acting like this little guy just did, she’d be in a mess of trouble.
Of course, that big, sexy wolfman she found in her bed yesterday evening could probably help her figure out what the hell was going on, but then she’d have to admit she needed his assistance. After the way he snuck in, let her bathe him—she gave the man a friggin’ bath for Christ’s sake—and then accused her of all that crap, she wasn’t about to ask him for help. He could go hump a light pole for all she cared.
She was not going to turn into a werewolf anyway. There simply wasn’t enough magic running through her veins for it to happen, and she would keep telling herself that until the next full moon came and went, leaving her the same old awkward, boring human she’d always been.
Pushing the thoughts out of her mind, she focused on the current dilemma. Coffee or lunch? She’d hardly slept last night. Images of Trace in all his glorious nakedness danced behind her eyes every time she closed them. She’d had so many sexy dreams about the man, she had to break out Big Blue this morning just to cool herself off.
And there she was, getting all hot and bothered again. She shook her head. Coffee. Crimson’s shop stood a block away, so she’d stop in for a double-shot latté and then grab some lunch.
Crimson leaned in the doorway of Evangeline’s, chatting with a tall, slim guy in his early twenties. With short black hair and dark brown eyes, he was cute, but still a little lanky for Sophie’s taste. Put another ten years on him, when his shoulders had filled out and a little stubble peppered his jaw, and he might have been hot. Not that it mattered what the man looked like. Sophie was just desperate for a distraction. Anything to get her mind off werewolves.
Aside from the too-young-to-be-hot man, several dozen paintings occupied the sidewalk in front of the café. Done in deep, vibrant hues, the canvases depicted cartoonish renderings of houses and famous landmarks throughout the French Quarter. A twenty by thirty-inch swamp landscape stood on an easel by the door, and Sophie stopped to admire the vivid artistry.
“I’ll make you a deal on that one, since we’re friends.” Crimson strutted toward her. She wore knee-high boots with three-inch heels, easily putting her at six feet tall. “Three hundred, and it’s yours.”
“Are you nuts?” the man asked. “That one’s worth at least five hundred.”
“Sophie.” Crimson draped an arm around her shoulders. “I’d like you to meet my baby brother, Josh.”
“Hi.” Sophie shook his hand and glanced at Crimson. “Your brother?”
She nodded. “When Josh isn’t trying to make people pay too much for paintings once a month at my café, he’s studying art history in grad school.”
“Five hundred is reasonable for an original painting that size,” he said. “I won’t take less.”
“An artist knows the value of his work better than anyone,” Sophie said, leaning closer and admiring the exquisite detail of the piece. “If I had a wall big enough to put it on, I’d buy it.”
Crossing her arms, Crimson smirked at her brother. “And she’d pay three hundred because the artist knows the value of her work better than anyone.”
Sophie’s eyes widened. “You painted all these?”
“I sure did. I have dozens more in my apartment too. You’ll have to come up and see them sometime.” She motioned for her to follow and disappeared through the café door.
“It was nice to meet you, Josh.” Sophie nodded and followed Crimson inside the empty shop.
“You want the usual?” Crimson stepped behind the counter and tied an apron around her waist.
“Full caffeine. Make it a double shot. I didn’t sleep much last night.” She slid onto a stool at the counter.
Crimson arched a brow. “Because you were having too much fun, I hope?”
“I wish.” She leaned her forearms on the counter, drumming her chipped lavender nails against the Formica. She was way overdue for a manicure. “Your paintings are beautiful. Why do you run a coffee shop instead of focusing on your art?”
“Art doesn’t provide a steady income. Anyway, my mom used to own this place. I’m keeping it open in her honor.”
“That’s nice. How long ago did she pass?”
Crimson’s laugh mixed with the sound of milk being steamed. “Oh, honey, she’s not dead. My parents retired to Florida five years ago. Evangeline’s is a mainstay in the French Quarter, so I promised to keep it running. Josh is supposed to be helping, but he decided he needed to go to grad school instead.” She set the mug of vanilla latté in front of Sophie.
“Have you lived here all your life?”
“Since my parents adopted me when I was seven. What about you? Born and raised in Texas?”
Sophie sipped the coffee, closing her eyes for a moment to savor the rich vanilla flavor. “I’m an Army brat. We lived all over the world until my dad got a medical discharge when I was sixteen. That’s when we moved to Texas, but even then, we went from Houston to Dallas to Austin in a year and a half. I haven’t really belonged anywhere my entire life.”
Crimson cocked her head, smiling warmly. “Well, welcome home.”
The cat darted into the kitchen from a back room and leapt onto the countertop. Lifting its nose in the air, it sniffed twice before slinking toward Sophie and rubbing its head against her forearm. A deep purr rumbled in the cat’s chest, and it stood on its back legs, resting its front paws on Sophie’s shoulder, rubbing its head against her chin.
Sophie laughed, her heart melting. “Hey there, handsome. It’s good to see you too.” She really needed to get a pet of her own.
“Jeez.” Crimson glared at the cat. “I know what we have is temporary, but could you at least try not to flirt with other women in front of me? Shoo. Go on in the back.” She waved an arm, and the cat sulked toward the back room.
“He’s fine. I don’t mind the attention,” Sophie said.
Crimson gave her a skeptical look. “Did he say anything to you?”
“He said you’re feeding him too much salmon. He prefers beef.” Crimson’s eyes widened, and Sophie laughed. “I’m kidding. I don’t understand animal speak.”
“Hmm…” She pressed her lips together as if stopping herself from saying more. Because she knew more. Sophie was sure of it.
It was time she did a little gentle prying with her witch friend. Tracing her finger along the cool countertop, she chewed her bottom lip and chose her words carefully. “Yesterday, when you mentioned my fondness for animals being a gift, what did you mean by that?”
Crimson paused, searching her eyes and resting her hands on her hips. “You really don’t know, do you?”
“Know what?”
She clasped her hand on Sophie’s arm, closing her eyes and taking two deep breaths. Her lids fluttered open, and she shook her head, unbelieving. “All this time I thought you were hiding your powers, but they’ve never been unbound.”
“Could you be a little less cryptic? I have no idea what you’re talking about.”
A slow smile curved Crimson’s lips, and she glanced about the empty café, checking over her shoulder toward the door the cat disappeared through. “You have an ancestor who was a witch.” She whispered the last word. “Do you know who it was? Mom? Grandma?”
A thrill shot up Sophie’s spine as she straightened and leaned toward her. “My grandmother was. She died when my dad was little.”
“That makes sense.” Crimson nodded. “And your mom?”
Sophie shrugged. “She was as su
rprised as the rest of us when we found Gram’s grimoire in the attic after Pop died.”
“You have her grimoire?” Excitement buzzed around Crimson, her dark eyes gleaming. “Do you have it here, in New Orleans?”
“I do, but it doesn’t work. I’ve tried a few of her spells, but nothing ever happens.”
“Because your powers were never unbound.” Resting her hands on the counter, she leaned toward her. “Sophie, you’re a witch.”
Sophie snorted. “Yeah, right. I’ve tried talking to every witch in the city about their coven, but they all just shut me down and point me to the bookshelf.”
Crimson waved a hand dismissively. “You can’t get into the coven unless you’re sponsored by another witch. I guarantee the high priestess has checked you out and determined you were harmless with bound powers. Most people this happens to go their entire lives thinking they’re human.”
“Hold on. Slow down.” This was too much to process. In less than a year’s time, her BFF became a vampire, married a vampire, and opened a vampire night club. The hottest man in New Orleans wound up in her bed as a werewolf, and now… “You’re telling me I’m a witch? Like a full-blown magical being? Spells and incantations and sparkles and shit?”
“Well, you’re not going to shoot glitter out your ass, but you are a witch.” Crimson took off her apron and sashayed around the counter, parking on a stool next to Sophie. “Witches are born with their powers bound. It’s up to the magical being who passed on those powers to unlock them when they’re ready to begin training. If your grandma died when your dad was young, she took all that knowledge with her, and you’ve been living as a human ever since.”
“Wow.” She blinked.
“I know, right? My guess is your ability to talk to animals is your inborn gift. All witches can cast spells, but some of us are born with special psychic abilities: premonitions, talking to the dead, psychometry.”
“Of all the cool powers I could have inherited, all I can do is talk to animals. That sounds about right.”
“Maybe if your powers weren’t bound, they could talk to you. I think you’re a fauna witch.” Her eyes gleamed, her smile brightening her entire face.
“Is there any way to unbind my powers?” Then again, maybe the binding was the only thing keeping her from sprouting fur and howling at the moon. Would she still be a witch if she turned into a werewolf? Did were/witch hybrids even exist?
Crimson’s face turned serious. “I think we might be able to help each other.” She yanked a strand of hair from Sophie’s head.
“Ow! I’m not even sure I want to have magical powers, though. I need some time to think about all this.” Did those words really just leave her lips? Being a witch had consumed her thoughts ever since she found her grandma’s grimoire, and now she was second-guessing herself?
“I may need a little more.” Crimson yanked on another strand of hair.
“What do you need my hair for?” She rubbed her sore scalp.
“Divination.” She wrapped the strands in a napkin and shoved them into her pocket before prancing around the counter. “Come by my apartment tonight around eight, and we’ll talk. Bring the grimoire with you.”
“You’re not going to do anything to me before then?” Sophie gathered her hair into her hands, sweeping it over her shoulder, away from Crimson. “I don’t want to be walking down the street and have magical sparkles explode out of my pores…or my ass.”
The door chimed behind her, and a group of tourists entered the shop. “Hi, y’all. Welcome.” Crimson waved a hand at the customers before leaning toward Sophie and lowering her voice. “I’m just going to read your energy. Now, shoo. No more witch talk around the humans.” She gave her a conspiratorial wink before grabbing a tray of pastry samples and sashaying toward the customers.
Sophie grinned, excitement bubbling in her chest like champagne as she strode out the door. Sure, the fact she might have magical powers that could be unlocked was cool, but that wink from Crimson meant so much more. It meant there was a chance, however slim, that she could join the coven. That she might belong.
Chapter Five
Find Jackson. Stop the witch. They would have been simple enough orders if the witch in question hadn’t been on his mind since the moment he saw her wrapped in a towel, waving a dildo around like a sword.
A slow smile curved Trace’s lips. He could show her a sword. She’d never need that puny contraption again if he warmed her bed every night. Damn it. He clenched his fists as he stalked up Royal Street, following her scent. Focus on the plan.
He passed two- and three-story structures in shades of burgundy, yellow, and mauve as Sophie’s entrancing, magical fragrance grew stronger. Vibrant ferns and colorful flowers adorned the galleries trimmed in decorative wrought iron, and American, Spanish, French, and Rainbow flags flapped in the cool November breeze.
Trace stuck close to the buildings, scanning the structures for the gates blocking the alley entrances. The magic had struck him enough times now that he could sense the force-shift before it happened. He should have time to scale a gate and hide somewhere secluded if he felt it coming on.
So far, so good.
With his gaze locked on a dark green wooden gate across the street, he made a sharp right onto St. Philip, and a body smacked into him. She bounced off his chest, and he caught a whiff of her intoxicating cinnamon and cider scent before she landed on her ass in front of him.
Sophie wore black leggings that hugged her curves and a deep blue sweater with strands of silver woven through the fabric that caught the sunlight in sparkles, almost making her shimmer. Her golden hair had fallen across her face, and as she swept it behind her shoulders, her sky-blue eyes locked with his, making his heart go thump…thump-thump-thump.
“Wow. You’re not even going to offer me a hand up? If this is what all werewolves are like, I take back what I said about wanting one of my own.”
She wanted a werewolf of her own, did she? As a pet—or as a lover? That statement could be taken several different ways, but the scoop neck of her sweater revealing her delicate collarbone had his mind permanently parked on Lover’s Lane. As she started to get up, he dragged his mind out of its lust-drunken stupor and took her arm, easing her to her feet. “Sorry about that. You caught me off guard.”
“I suppose that’s my fault too?” She dusted off her pants and straightened her sweater. “You like to accuse me of things.”
“No, that was my fault. I wasn’t watching where I was walking, and I’m sorry I bumped into you.” Well, he was sorry he knocked her down. Bumping into her had been part of his plan, minus the physical aspect.
“Oh.” Her brow lifted. “Well, I’m sorry too.” She held his gaze, her soft pink lips moving slightly, trying to form words her mind wouldn’t allow her to speak.
“Are you okay?”
“I’m fine.” She crossed her arms, jutting her hip to the side, composing herself. “You’ll be happy to learn that whatever magical powers I might have, they’ve never been unbound, so I couldn’t possibly have cursed your pack.” Her face pinched in an adorable way, and he fought his smile. “Or maybe you won’t be happy, since now you have no idea where your friend is. I don’t know. I’m not good with people.”
She lifted her hands in the air before dropping them at her sides. “It was easier to talk to you when you were a wolf.”
“Why do you think that is?” He was fully clothed in jeans and a t-shirt, so she couldn’t have been distracted by his body this time. Though he had to admit, she was cute when she was flustered.
She inhaled deeply, letting out a heavy sigh. “It’s this witch business. Apparently, I’m supposed to be a fauna witch, but no one ever released my powers. I don’t even know why I’m telling you this. It’s not like you’re deserving of my trust.” She bit her bottom lip, searching his eyes.
“Maybe it’s because I’m part animal?” It made sense. If her power was with animals, the beast inside him might’ve been
what drew her to him, the reason she’d even speak to him after he accused her of crimes against his pack.
“Maybe. Or maybe it’s because my bestie is dead to the world until sundown, and I’m bursting at the seams to talk to her about all this.”
“You could talk to me.” He opened his arms, trying to look as inviting as possible. With his height and build, his presence was intimidating to most, but Sophie didn’t seem fazed.
“Psh. After you accused me of kidnapping and possible murder? No thanks.” Her words said no, but she didn’t make a move to leave. In fact, she held his gaze, practically begging him to ply her with questions.
“I’m sorry about that too.” He shoved his hands into his pockets. “My pack determined you were to blame, and…”
She crossed her arms. “They sent you to gather evidence.”
“I was doing my job, but I didn’t find a thing. Jackson is still missing…and this curse...” He shook his head.
“I didn’t do it.”
“I’m starting to believe you.” He reached toward her, touching her arm and stepping to the side, shielding her from the homeless man riding a wobbly bicycle down the sidewalk.
As he whizzed past, her nose scrunched, and she waved a hand in front of her face. “Ugh. Now there’s a man who could use a bath. Maybe I should open a bathing business instead. It would help with all the smells out here.”
He moved closer to her to replace the aromas of BO and weed with Sophie’s delicious scent. The idea of her hands on another man’s body didn’t sit well with him, and though he knew she was joking, he couldn’t ignore the jealousy rolling through his core. Not good, Trace. “You being here improves the scent of the French Quarter. Your magic smells amazing. The rest of you does too.”
A nervous giggle escaped her throat as she stepped back. “So people tell me. I guess I’m nose blind to it.”
“Supes generally can’t smell their own magic.”
“There is so much I need to learn. So many questions. I can’t wait to talk to Jane.”
She wasn’t the only one with questions. Had her magic been bound so long, she didn’t even remember having powers? None of this made sense. He had to keep her talking. “How long has your friend been a vampire? Not long, right?”
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