Shift Happens

by Carrie Pulkinen

  “About nine months.”

  “I’ve been a werewolf my entire life. I’m sure I can answer your questions.”

  “I don’t know. Jane and I are a team. We do everything together, so I know she can help.”

  What was this strange dependency on her vampire friend about? Was it because they were both apparently new to the supernatural world, or did it run deeper? And why did he feel the need to explore every nook, cranny, and hidden corner of her mind? “If you’re not busy, I’d love to take you to lunch. If your powers really are bound, that’s going to change my entire investigation of you.”

  “I’d think it would end it. No powers, no curse.”

  If the Alpha called right now and told him Jackson was home and the case was closed, he’d still insist on taking Sophie to lunch. This was a massive red flag flapping in the wind, but he closed his eyes to it, just like he’d closed them to the warning signs with the damn nymph two years ago.

  This time was different. He wasn’t under a spell, and he could handle himself around Sophie. Hell, he needed to if only to prove to himself he deserved his rank in the pack and a pretty face with a gorgeous body couldn’t get in the way of his job. His nostrils flared as he let out a slow breath. After his last conversation with the Alpha, he needed to prove it to her too.

  “I’m not ready to end things with you.”

  “Oh, you’re not? Hmm…” Mischief danced in her eyes. “I have exactly ninety-three minutes until I pick up my first client for the afternoon round. That’s all I can offer right now.”

  “I’ll take it. We’re going to have to head out of the Quarter, though. Can’t risk turning into a wolf in the middle of a restaurant, and if you’re not the one doing it, I’m still in danger.”

  “I’m not, so I guess you are. My car is a block away. I’ll drive.”

  Trace gave Sophie directions to Honoré’s, his favorite place on Magazine Street. Located in a blue and white, nineteenth-century Victorian mansion, it boasted an expansive front porch dotted with pink and yellow wrought-iron tables and chairs. Inside, his shoes thudded on the original wood floors as they made their way to a corner table in a quiet back room.

  Mismatched furniture in shades from dark to light wood to distressed white paint gave the entire restaurant an eclectic vibe, and Trace pulled out a mahogany chair, tucking it under Sophie as she accepted the gesture.

  He was doing his job. The Alpha had ordered him to befriend her, so taking her out to lunch was part of the plan. It didn’t matter that his pulse sprinted every time he looked into her eyes. So what if her laugh sounded sweeter than jazz music dancing in his ears?

  “What?” She smiled, glancing at him over her menu.

  “What?” He folded his hands on the table.

  “Why are you staring at me like that?”

  Damn it. He was staring at her, wasn’t he? She responded well to flirtation. Might as well keep it up. “How am I staring?” He arched a brow, and her smile widened, making a fizzy sensation run through his veins.

  “If you were in wolf form, I’d assume you wanted a belly rub.”

  “What if that’s exactly what I want?”

  She folded her menu on the table, resting her forearms on the surface, mirroring his posture. Leaning forward, she licked her lips and lowered her voice. “Then I hope you’ll be in human form and that you’ll want more than your belly rubbed.”

  Hot damn. Was it getting warm in here or was this woman on fire? He straightened, dropping his hands in his lap and gripping his thighs to stop himself from reaching for her. Forget lunch. He could make a four-course meal out of Sophie Burroughs. “How much more are we talking about?”

  Heat sparked in her gaze. “How dirty do you want to be?”

  He reached across the table, taking her hand like he’d wanted to a minute ago. “Sex isn’t dirty unless you’re rolling in the mud.”

  “Now there’s something I haven’t tried…yet.”

  What the ever-loving fuck had he gotten himself into? He was supposed to be questioning her. Sure, she didn’t seem to know a thing about his pack’s problems, but she could have been an excellent liar. If he admitted Sophie as a lead had gone cold, then he’d have to admit the real reason he was sitting across from her about to share a meal, and he was so not ready to go there. Focus, dickhead. Think with your brain.

  “Tracey, my man.” Mike, the restaurant owner and Trace’s good friend, sauntered in and shook his hand. His curly, dark brown hair was sheared short on the sides, and his dark eyes sparked red as he swept his gaze over Sophie. “Long time, no see, but I guess this pretty little witch has been keeping you busy. How do you do, ma’am?”

  Mike took Sophie’s hand, pressing his lips to her skin and inhaling deeply. “She smells divine.”

  She flashed Trace a quizzical look, and he cleared his throat, hoping to quell the jealousy burning in his chest. Jealousy was not good. Any territorial emotions meant his wolf was jumping on the let’s bang Sophie train, and if his wolf was on board, they’d be headed for a lot more than banging.

  “Mike, this is my friend, Sophie, and we’re ready to order.” He’d planned on getting his favorite, the fried oyster po-boy, but ingesting a quarter pound of aphrodisiacs when his motor was already humming might lead to disaster. He settled for catfish instead.

  Sophie ordered fried shrimp and turned to him as Mike left the room. “Trace is short for Tracey?” Her lips twitched like she was trying not to smile.

  He knew exactly where this was going. “It is, and you find it funny. Go ahead and laugh. Get it out of your system.”

  She let her smile come on full-force, and he forgot to breathe for a moment. “It’s weird to see a big, buff guy like you with a girl’s name.”

  He crossed his arms. “It’s gender-neutral.”

  “Is it?” She laughed. “I’m sorry. It shouldn’t be funny. See, this is why I’m better with animals.”

  “Stop apologizing. You’re not the first person to make fun of my name, and you won’t be the last. Mike called me that on purpose. He’s probably right around the corner listening.” He raised his voice on the last word, and sure enough, heavy footsteps receded toward the kitchen shortly after.

  “Is Mike a werewolf too?”

  He narrowed his eyes, studying hers, searching for a hint of dishonesty. She should have smelled the sulfur emanating from his skin like any other supe would. She didn’t even flinch when his eyes flashed red, which meant she’d either dealt with plenty of demons or, more likely, she didn’t see it happen. “Your powers really are bound, aren’t they?”

  “Uh, yeah. We’ve been through this already.”

  “Mike is a demon.”

  Her mouth dropped open, her eyes going wide as if this was her first time learning demons existed on Earth. Trace inhaled deeply, searching her scent for signs of deceit, but aside from the remnants of arousal left over from their earlier conversation, she smelled exactly the same.

  “You’re friends with a demon?” She shook her head. “More importantly, demons are real?”

  “Mike’s a great guy, as long as you don’t make any deals with him. And yes, there are plenty of demons in New Orleans. I’m sure you’ve met a few.”

  “If I have, I had no idea. Aren’t they…you know…evil? Are we safe eating here?” Her gaze darted about the room like she was on high alert.

  “Don’t worry. He left hell for a reason, and an angel owns the bakery next door. She keeps him in check.”

  She sat back in her chair, her voice rising in disbelief. “Get. Out.” A woman at a table in the next room leaned over to glare at her, and Sophie covered her mouth, whispering, “Are you serious? Angels and demons walk among us?”

  He couldn’t fight his smile. She really was clueless about magic. “Absolutely. They’ve got some balance between good and evil thing going on that the rest of us try to stay out of.”

  “Wow. Next you’re going to tell me fairies are real too.”

 
; “They are.”

  She giggled. “Unicorns?”

  “Only in Montana. They need a lot of room to roam.”

  “Nymphs?”

  He missed a beat in his reply, and his eyes tightened. “They’re real too.” He straightened, trying to brush off his reaction. Hopefully she didn’t notice his change in tone at the mention of the woman who’d nearly cost him his position in the pack. “We’re all real, and really good at hiding.”

  She pursed her lips, eyeing him skeptically. “You have experience with a nymph, don’t you?”

  Damn it. He was not getting into his past mishaps with her. “I’ve met a few.”

  She leaned an elbow on the table, resting her chin in her hand. “Tell me about her.”

  “No.” He had defended that woman to the end. Hell, if he’d been under her spell any longer, he might have assisted with her plan to drive the red wolves out of Orleans Parish, and his life would have been over.

  His stomach soured as the similarity of his current situation sank in. This time was different though. He felt it. His wolf felt it.

  “Okay. We’ll put a pin in that one. Maybe I do need my magic unlocked, so I’ll be able to tell who’s who. Witches have your fancy magic-detecting olfactory sense, right? That’s how you can tell?”

  He nodded. “And the visible magic in auras, though that can be hidden. Which is what my pack thought you were doing, since your scent is so strong.”

  There was no way in hell this sweet, innocent woman had anything to do with the pack curse or his missing friend. Of course, hell also didn’t offer him any ways to convince his Alpha of her innocence, and that was a problem. Teresa would send in someone else to do the job if Trace didn’t pull through, and he couldn’t allow that to happen.

  He needed a new plan and fast. “Tell me more about your magic being bound. How did you discover this information?”

  She told him a story about being shunned by the witches in the Quarter, finally meeting one willing to talk to her, and learning that witches were born with their powers bound, something he never knew. A real witch would never divulge such sensitive information.

  Their food arrived, and between bites, she told him everything she knew about her grandmother, how her best friend came to be a vampire, and her tentative entrance into the supernatural world.

  “Is the witch who told you all this in the coven?”

  “I think so.” She finished the last bite of her shrimp and washed it down with a swig of sweet tea. “She talked like she was.”

  “It’s probably best if you don’t tell anyone else about this. You’ve just let me in on some pretty juicy secrets the coven doesn’t want anyone to know.” Secrets that could upset the balance of their truce.

  “Oops.” She covered her mouth with the tips of her fingers.

  He flashed her a reassuring smile. “I promise not to tell.”

  “What about your pack? Don’t you have to tell them everything you learned about me, so they’ll know I’m innocent?”

  He bit the inside of his cheek, his gaze dancing around her face as he tried to formulate a plan. “My pack, and especially my Alpha, are convinced of your guilt. They won’t believe me if I tell them otherwise.”

  “Why won’t they believe you?”

  “It’s a long story.”

  “It has to do with the nymph, doesn’t it?”

  He stiffened. For someone who claimed to be bad with people, she could read him like a large print e-book with an audio companion. “How did you know?”

  She shrugged. “Your wolf talks to me.”

  He cocked his head. “Go on.”

  “I mean, not with words. He just…I don’t know. I can sense things from the animal side of you. I know it sounds crazy, but I feel like we have a connection.” She dropped her face into her hands for a moment as she shook her head. “Listen to me, I must be crazy thinking I have a connection with a man I’ve known all of three or four days.”

  “That doesn’t sound crazy at all. I feel it too.”

  She smiled. “You or your wolf?”

  “Both.” Though how much of these feelings came from which side, he wasn’t yet sure. The man in him found her insanely gorgeous and fun to talk to. His wolf could’ve felt the connection for one of three reasons. It was either her magic drawing him to her, his mating instincts kicking in, or his magic from the bite running through her veins.

  He took her hand across the table and gently ran his finger over the spot where he’d hurt her. “Have you shown any signs that my magic might be taking hold in you?”

  “Umm.” She tugged from his grasp, folding her hands in her lap and staring at the table.

  “You need to tell me if you do, because it’s going to throw another wrench into our situation.”

  She glanced up at him, a questioning look in her gaze.

  “My pack doesn’t know I bit you, and if they think you cursed us, and you’re becoming one of us, they’ll want you dead before you shift. I need to know so I can protect you.”

  “No.” She shook her head adamantly. “I’m definitely not sprouting fur or anything like that. This morning, one of my clients started humping my leg, which doesn’t usually happen, but other than that, no.” She clamped her mouth shut.

  “By client, you mean…”

  “A dog.”

  He nodded. “Right. For some reason, I was picturing a man.”

  She laughed. “That would be something. Oh, now I’m picturing it. Thanks.”

  “My pleasure.” He held her gaze for a moment, and the connection between them seemed to strengthen, tugging him toward her.

  Her smile faded. “Your pack wants me dead?”

  “My orders were to find Jackson and end your magic by any means necessary, but I believe you, Sophie. After the time we’ve spent together, after everything you’ve told me, there’s no way you could be involved in this mess.”

  A look of bewilderment danced in her eyes. “You were planning to kill me?”

  “No. Absolutely not.” How could he? From the moment he laid eyes on her at the party, he knew she was special. His wolf wouldn’t have let him lay a finger on her in a harmful way.

  She leaned away from him, wary. “But the thought crossed your mind.”

  “I was given an order, but I never intended to obey it. Sophie, if you know anything at all about Jackson or the curse, I need you to tell me. I’m already going to be in deep shit for biting you, and if I go against pack orders and protect you, they might want to take us both out.”

  “I don’t know anything. I swear. If I knew where to find your friend, I would tell you.” She paused, chewing her bottom lip and looking thoughtful. “Let me talk to Jane. She runs the club where we first met, so she knows people. She can help.”

  “I can’t get another group of supes involved. This is between the red wolves and the witches.”

  “She’ll be discreet. Trust me, she knows how to handle situations like this, and anyway, you’re not getting her involved. I am. I have a right to defend myself, so let me help you find Jackson. Then we can prove I had nothing to do with it, and neither one of us will be in trouble.”

  Wow. After everything he’d put her through—sneaking into her house, accusing her, stalking her—she was offering him her help. That said so much about her character. His chest warmed at her generosity, and he couldn’t stop the words tumbling from his lips. “Go on a date with me.”

  She gestured at the table. “I thought that’s what this was.”

  He shook his head. “This was more of an interrogation. Let me take you out on a date. I want to get to know you.”

  “Aren’t you supposed to be hunting for your friend?”

  “I am. Every second of my day is spent trying to figure out what happened to him, but I’ve got to keep up the charade that I’m investigating you.”

  “Oh.” Her posture deflated. “And here I thought you wanted a real date.”

  Damn it. That wasn’t how he meant fo
r that to sound. “I do. It’ll serve double duty. Let me show you how I would have treated you had we met on better terms.” How he could still treat her once this mystery was solved.

  She narrowed her eyes, calculating a response. “Saturday night, and in the meantime, I’ll help you find your friend any way I can.”

  “Okay. Saturday night it is. I’m looking forward to it.”

  She grinned. “Me too.”

  Chapter Six

  Holy chihuahua. What the hell just happened? Sophie’s hand trembled as she pulled her phone from her pocket and dialed Jane’s number. The call went straight to voicemail, of course, because it was two in the afternoon. “Jane, it’s Sophie. I know you’re dead right now, but I need you to call me the moment you open your eyes. I’ve got a problem. A big one.” And his name was Trace Thibodeaux.

  She shoved the phone into her bag and pulled out her leash as she trotted up the steps to her first client’s home. “Hey, Captain.” She scratched the shelter dog behind the ears and guided him out the door, a calmness washing over her as the part-lab, part-husky, part-who-knew-what-else nuzzled her hand. “We can figure this out, can’t we, boy?”

  Captain woofed his agreement, and they walked side by side to the next client’s house. She focused, trying to sense the dog’s thoughts, to see if she could hear something the way Trace had put his name into her head when he was in wolf form last night. Pausing, she squatted in front of Captain and held his head in her hands, staring into his eyes and willing him to speak in her mind. “Talk to me, boy. I might be one of you by the end of the month.”

  A slobbery tongue swiping across her cheek was the only response she received. She stood and continued down the sidewalk. Maybe she should have told Trace the truth about the fur that sprouted on her yesterday. Heat flushed her cheeks as she imagined lifting her arms to show him her furry pits. No, she definitely should not have told him. She wasn’t even sure if she could trust him yet.