Shift Happens

by Carrie Pulkinen

  Her long blonde hair was swept up in a twist with a few soft strands framing her face, and she held a tiny gold purse attached to her wrist by a thin strap.

  She was stunning. Beautiful. Magnificent. The most gorgeous woman he’d ever seen, but the signal from his brain to his mouth was fried, and the only word he managed to utter was, “Damn.”

  “That is exactly the response I was hoping for. Who needs designer perfume?”

  “Definitely not you.”

  She peered over her shoulder and pulled the door shut, joining him on the landing. “I guess we better get you out of the French Quarter in case the evil witch works her magic again.”

  “Hold on. I need to do something first.” Something he’d been wanting to do since the moment he met her. An urge he’d been struggling with for as long as he’d known her, and damn it, he was tired of fighting.

  Cupping her cheek in his hand, he leaned in and pressed his mouth to hers. He only meant for it to be a quick brush of the lips, but when “mmm” vibrated from her throat and she threw her arms around his neck, he went for it, tongue and all.

  She leaned into him, pressing her soft curves into his chest, parting her lips and drinking him in like she was dying of thirst. He didn’t realize how parched he’d been until her velvet tongue brushed against his, sending a tidal wave of emotion rolling through his body. It crashed into his core, and his inner wolf howled in delight.

  “You’re not wasting any time, are you?” She rested her forehead against his.

  “I couldn’t help myself. You look good enough to eat.”

  She laughed and pulled away, smoothing her dress down her stomach. “While I’m tempted to drag you inside right now and let you make a meal out of me, I’m starving. I want dinner before I put out.”

  “I like a woman who knows what she wants.”

  Resting a hand on her hip, she trailed her gaze down his form, lingering below his belt. “I know exactly what I want.”

  “I can’t wait to give it to you.”

  “Dinner first.” Rising onto her toes, she swiveled around and strutted toward the staircase, the quick movement wafting her delicious cinnamon fragrance to his senses.

  Oh, he’d take her to dinner. Then she would be dessert. “Hold on.”

  She spun to face him. “Yes?”

  He focused on the sexy red high heels, silently cursing himself for what he was about to suggest. “I was thinking we’d go for a stroll in City Park after dinner. As much as I love those shoes on you…”

  She looked down at her feet, twisting one inward in a way that made his mouth water. “Good call. Stilettoes aren’t made for long walks. Give me a sec.” She strutted inside her apartment and returned two minutes later in a pair of silver ballet flats. “Thanks for the warning. You’d have ended up carrying me if I’d tried to wear those heels all night.”

  “If you want to put them back on later, I won’t mind.”

  She laughed. “I bet.”

  He took her to Marie’s, a small mom and pop Creole joint a few miles north of the Quarter. Quiet and unassuming, Marie’s had the best crawfish bisque and court bouillon in town. Sophie asked him questions about his life, and she did a damn good job feigning interest as he droned on about pack life and his boring upbringing. He grew up in one house near the river, and he barely moved two miles away from his parents when he left the nest, which was typical for red wolves. They stuck together.

  Sophie told him fascinating stories about traveling the world when her dad was in the military, experiencing a new place every couple of years. Trace didn’t even have a passport.

  She finished the last bite of her shrimp Creole and traced her finger around the rim of her wine glass. “I can’t even imagine what a life like yours would be like.”

  He chuckled. “Boring. Routine.”

  She tilted her head. “With stability. Always knowing where you belong. Fitting in. I never had that growing up. I still feel like I don’t.”

  “Why do you think that is?”

  “I’m a witch with no powers who’s better at talking to animals than people, for one thing.”

  “You’re great with people.” He reached for her hand across the table. “You’ve got me hooked.”

  “We’ll see how long you stick around.”

  Forever. He clenched his teeth. The word had nearly slipped from his lips, and that would have been the end of his blossoming relationship with Sophie right then and there. He had to play it cool, but he needed her to know he was after more than her body.

  Lacing his fingers through hers, he looked into her eyes. “I’m not going anywhere any time soon.”

  She held his gaze for what felt like an eternity before a sly smile curved her lips and she winked. “Great. I’ve landed myself a clingy one.”

  “Just call me Saran Wrap.” He laughed, and she laughed, the tension between them dissolving like sugar in hot coffee. “You can’t be that bad with people.”

  “Don’t underestimate me.”

  “What’s the most embarrassing thing you’ve done lately?”

  She straightened her spine, smoothing her napkin in her lap as her eyes tightened. “The night Jane met Ethan, I puked on his shoes.”

  Trace blinked, trying to keep a neutral expression, but damn… “Okay, that is bad. What happened?”

  “It was our first night in New Orleans, and it was Mardi Gras.” She shrugged, and an adorable blush tinted her cheeks.

  He nodded. “Gotcha. No need to say more. We’ve all been there.”

  “What about you?”

  “Oh, I’m pretty calm and collected. You have to be in my line of work.”

  “Uh-uh. I’m not buying it for a minute, and you’re not getting out of this.” She crossed her arms. “I shared. Now it’s your turn.”

  He couldn’t have told her no if he tried. The problem was, aside from the incident with the nymph, which he wasn’t about to bring up, he hadn’t done much to screw up. Cupping his chin in his hand, he rubbed his beard and searched his memory for something embarrassing. “I found myself naked in the bed of the most beautiful woman I’ve ever met, and instead of asking her to join me, I accused her of crimes against my pack. I’m still working on earning her forgiveness.”

  “Wow. Sucks to be her. I can’t imagine what I’d do if a hot, naked werewolf wound up in my bed. If he accused me of crimes against his pack, I might threaten to beat him with a vibrator.” She grinned. “I forgive you.”

  He chuckled. “Good.”

  “Still no luck finding your friend?”

  “I feel like I’m chasing my tail. Every time I get a lead, it comes up dry, and I keep running in circles.”

  “Did you ever stop to think that maybe he doesn’t want to be found? That maybe he and the witch ran away together, and they’re sipping margaritas on a beach in Mexico?”

  He looked at the woman sitting across from him, with her sky-blue eyes and electric smile. He’d had the same thoughts about her recently, whisking her away from danger, taking her somewhere no one could hurt her, especially his pack. If it came down to it, and Sophie were in real danger, he’d do just that. “I suppose it’s a possibility, though I like to think he’d at least let me know he was okay.”

  And it still didn’t answer the riddle of why someone was force-shifting the members of his pack. He glanced at a clock. “Oh, we’ve got to get going, or we’ll miss our appointment.”

  “Our appointment for what?”

  “You’ll see.” He stood, taking her hand again and tugging her to her feet. He’d mull over the idea that his best friend might have ditched him on purpose later. Right now, his focus was on his own beautiful witch.

  They made the short drive to City Park and strolled up the trail toward Big Lake, where the gondola he’d booked for the hour awaited them. When he stepped up to the ticket booth and gave the attendant his name, a brown tabby jumped onto the counter, arching his back and hissing.

  “Sylvester, what’s wrong
with you?” The attendant scooped up the cat, dropping him on the floor, and passed Trace a waiver to sign. “I’m sorry. He’s a friendly cat. I don’t know what’s gotten into him.” A deep mewling sound emanated from the cat’s throat as it glared at Trace.

  “It’s okay. I’m not really a cat person.” He signed the form and took the tickets from the attendant.

  “You don’t like cats, or they don’t like you?” Sophie slipped her hand into his as they walked out on the pier toward the gondola.

  “Both. Werewolves and cat shifters are natural-born enemies. We’ve never gotten along as far as I know.”

  Her eyes widened. “That was a shifter?”

  He laughed. “That was a domesticated house cat, but animals can sense the wolf in me. Of course, we werewolves think we’re better than cats. I’m sure the cats feel superior to us too.”

  “Cats feel superior to everyone.” She stopped, slipping from his grasp, her brow furrowing. “I’m cat-sitting for my neighbor. He’s a familiar. Is that going to be a problem later?”

  “A familiar? I thought you weren’t friends with any witches?” He gestured toward the boat, where a short man in a black and white striped shirt waited with his arm outstretched.

  “Just the one who told me the secrets I spilled to you.” Sophie took the man’s hand and stepped into the gondola. “She lives upstairs, but she texted me earlier. She’ll be home tomorrow morning.”

  “I don’t have much experience with familiars, but a cat’s a cat.” He joined her in the boat, sinking into the seat and wrapping an arm around her shoulders.

  “I’d say maybe we should go to your place after this, but I don’t want to leave him alone all night. If he gives us any trouble, I’ll put him in the bathroom.”

  “That’s a good place for a feline.”

  The gondolier played soft Italian music on a speaker as he paddled the boat around the lake, and Sophie leaned into Trace’s side, a contented sigh escaping her lips as she rested a hand on his thigh.

  A walking trail surrounded the water, dotted with massive oaks to provide plenty of shade in the daytime, and the New Orleans Museum of Art stood in the distance, it’s white stucco façade and Grecian columns illuminated against the darkness.

  Everything about this felt right. The clear night sky twinkled with stars, and the moon, three-quarters full, shone bright, casting a silvery glow on the lake. Sophie fit next to him like she was made to be there, and for a moment, despite the turmoil in his pack, all felt right in the world.

  “Why did you decide to become a cop?” She angled her face toward him and crossed her legs, hooking her ankle over his.

  His chest tightened at the intimate gesture. “It’s in my blood. My dad’s a cop too, and it helps the pack, and all supes, to have people on the inside.”

  Her gaze flicked back to the gondolier, and she tensed.

  “He’s a water sprite,” he whispered.

  She turned to look at him, narrowing her gaze as if trying to see his magic. He waved, and she waved back before settling into Trace’s side again. “Do any of the human police know what you are?”

  “Just the chief, and he’s sworn to secrecy like the mayor and the governor.”

  “Jane’s dad is the governor of Texas. Imagine how shocked she was to learn that he knew about y’all all along and never told her.” She laughed. “She was pissed.”

  “I can imagine. What about you? I’m surprised with your animal abilities, you didn’t become a vet.”

  She let out a slow breath. “My animal abilities caused me so much trouble when I was young, I wanted nothing to do with them. Walking to school, stray dogs would follow me. We had a swarm of cats hanging around outside our house no matter where we lived, and I got teased because of it. I got called ‘Dog Girl,’ ‘Crazy Cat Girl,’ ‘Dr. Dolittle Junior.’”

  “Jeez. Such original names.”

  “I know, right? By the time I got into high school, I didn’t have any friends. When I would start getting close to someone, it never failed. We either moved away, or I’d forget most people don’t talk to animals as if they actually understand them, and they’d decide I was a weirdo. Then came Jane.” A wistful look crossed her face.

  “You two seem really close.”

  “She saved me. She took me in, and she wasn’t the slightest bit put off by my quirks. At school, she was the epitome of popularity: rich, her dad was in politics, she had four hot older brothers. Everyone wanted to be her friend, but she dealt with a lot of fake people. She liked me because I was real. Her mom died when she was young, and she came to my house a lot. My mom was a mother figure for her, and we were like sisters.” She looked at him, and he nodded, silently urging her to continue.

  “Anyway, we were roommates in college, and I majored in business. I walked dogs on the side to earn money—I wasn’t born into wealth like Jane—and the business did so well, I couldn’t see myself working in a cubicle in an entry-level job when I was making a good living already. So I focused on the business and expanded, and now I’m working on a branch here in New Orleans.”

  “What made you decide to branch out here?”

  “I moved here to be with Jane. Well, that and…” She shrugged.

  “And what?” His curiosity piqued, he angled his body toward her to see her face.

  “It’s silly.” She cast her gaze downward and drew circles on his thigh with her finger. “I saw a fortune teller in Austin. She told me my business would prosper here, and I’d find magic and a man to make my innermost dreams come true. God, saying it out loud makes it sound crazy.”

  “That’s not silly at all. Or crazy. I’ve met plenty of fortune tellers who know what they’re talking about.” He tugged her closer and kissed the top of her head. “Was she right?”

  She shrugged. “Business is starting to pick up. I’ve discovered plenty of magic.”

  “And the man?”

  She lifted her head from his shoulder and searched his eyes. “I’ll let you know.”

  He could be that man. He wanted to be that man.

  As the boat ride ended, he tipped the sprite and tucked Sophie under his arm, guiding her down a path into the deeply wooded area of the park. Massive oak trees, some as old as eight hundred years, towered above them, their canopies reaching out to touch the branches of their neighbors, creating a natural archway along the gravel path. Spanish moss draped from the boughs like curtains, and tiny new oaks sprouted around the roots.

  The sharp scent of ginger and vinegar reached his senses, and he froze, tightening his grip on Sophie. He’d recognize the smell of that magic anywhere, and date or not, it was his job to deal with it. Something rustled in the bushes to the right, and he tugged Sophie off the path, undoing the first two buttons of his shirt before slipping it over his head and handing it to her.

  Sophie gave him a quizzical look. “I fully intended on putting out tonight, Trace, but here in the park? Aren’t you even going to kiss me first?”

  “Wait here.” He kicked off his shoes and jogged into the brush before shifting into his wolf form and shimmying out of the rest of his clothes.

  Chapter Nine

  Wait here? Did he seriously just tell her to wait here? Who did this guy think he was? She did not spend the past two and a half hours pouring her heart out to him, letting herself fall for the guy, only for him to turn into some testosterone-laden alphahole who thought women were helpless little creatures who needed to be protected and should wait here. If danger lurked in them there woods, she wasn’t about to let him face it alone.

  Clutching his shirt in her hand, she took a moment to press it to her nose and bask in his delicious scent. Hey, he was the hottest guy in New Orleans. She couldn’t help herself. Warm and woodsy, with a hint of pine, it was a smell that made her insides melt every time she got near him. Yum.

  With the obligatory shirt sniff out of the way, she fisted it in her hand—because she was supposed to be mad at him for his caveman act—and marched into
the woods where Trace had disappeared.

  Branches scratched at her bare legs, and her feet sank into the soft soil as if she were walking on a sponge. Thank goodness she’d changed into flats, though even they would probably be ruined after this trek through the brush.

  She stopped at the edge of a clearing and found Trace in his wolf form, a ridge of copper fur standing on end along his back. He bared his teeth in a snarl, and Sophie wondered how she’d thought him a domesticated animal at all before. He looked absolutely wild.

  Standing across from him, with its back arched and a paw with razor-sharp claws lifted—in defense or offense, she couldn’t tell—was the biggest brown kitty she’d ever seen. Denser than a house cat, it had muscular shoulders and thick legs, and a ring of fur accented its face, like a smaller version of a lion’s mane. This mini lion sported spots like a jaguar, but it couldn’t have weighed more than twenty pounds. Compared to Trace’s sixty or seventy pounds of pure canine muscle, the fight hardly seemed fair.

  “Is that a bobcat?” They were the only kind of wild cats she knew of in Louisiana. It was way too small to be a cougar. “Are you a shifter or a regular cat?”

  She didn’t expect an answer from either of them, but Trace’s voice faintly echoed in her head. “She’s a bobcat shifter, and she’s in our territory looking for a fight. I’ve dealt with her and her sisters before. Give me five minutes.”

  “She?” Sophie crossed her arms, a stab of jealousy slicing through her chest. She had no right or reason to be jealous, but there the emotion was, clawing its way into her heart. Exactly how had he dealt with her before? Damn it, she liked this guy way too much.

  The cat woman hissed and swatted her paw at Trace, who growled in return.

  “Oh, no. This is not happening.” Sophie moved closer to them and shook a finger at the cat. “First of all, both of you are really messing with my fantasy that shifters turn into ginormous beasts that can rip your head off with a snap of their jaws. I feel like a giant watching the two of you.”