by Lola Glass
Running from the Wolves
By Lola Glass
Copyright © 2020 Lola Glass
All rights reserved
The characters and events portrayed in this book are fictitious. Any similarity to real persons, living or dead, is coincidental and not intended by the author.
No part of this book may be reproduced, or stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, or otherwise, without express written permission of the publisher.
To my Chad
Contents
Running from the Wolves
Copyright
Dedication
ONE
TWO
THREE
FOUR
FIVE
SIX
SEVEN
EIGHT
NINE
TEN
ELEVEN
TWELVE
THIRTEEN
FOURTEEN
FIFTEEN
SIXTEEN
SEVENTEEN
EIGHTEEN
NINETEEN
TWENTY
TWENTY-ONE
TWENTY-TWO
TWENTY-THREE
TWENTY-FOUR
TWENTY-FIVE
TWENTY-SIX
TWENTY-SEVEN
TWENTY-EIGHT
TWENTY-NINE
THIRTY
THIRTY-ONE
THIRTY-TWO
THIRTY-THREE
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Afterword
FREE STUFF
Acknowledgement
Connect with Me
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About Lola Glass
ONE
“Put the top on, Henley.” My manager sounded tired. I didn’t blame him; I was tired of this conversation too.
My rag swept over the bar, overhead lights bringing out the sparkle in the expensive ebony stone. Even though it was noon, it was fairly dim inside. Jack Johnson’s voice floated through the air, bouncing off textured black and white walls.
“I’m still not comfortable with the way it flashes my cleavage.” The lie slipped from my lips easily as I continued wiping down the bar.
“You agreed to wear the uniform when you got the job. The owner is coming in and he’ll fire both of us if you don’t comply.” Bodhi walked around to the other side of the bar, folding his skinny little arms over his chest. Coming in at about 5’7” and weighing less than 120, he and his artfully-spiked blue hair were about as scary as a toothpick. “You know you’re my favorite bartender. If you wear the top when our boss is here, I won’t bring up the uniform again.”
Tempting.
Very tempting.
Bodhi shifted his weight to his other foot, and I caught the scent of something surprising. Fear. Bodhi was legitimately afraid of our boss. If his blue hair and our six months working together told me anything it was that nothing really scared Bodhi, so the fact that he was afraid…
Not a great sign.
I crossed to the side of the bar I hadn’t cleaned yet before responding.
“Fine.”
His relief was so strong the scent of it permeated the air. I couldn’t always scent emotions; they had to be really strong for that. Bodhi was practically bleeding feelings.
Was our boss some kind of a mobster?
“Great.” He tried to maintain his sense of authority, but we both knew who had control of the situation. My beastly side kept me asserting my dominance in all sorts of little ways, and Bodhi noticed.
I finished cleaning the bar before striding through the doors that led into the kitchen. Tossing my rag into the sink, I headed for the break room and opened my locker. The day before, I’d finally taped a photo of me and my mom to the inside of the metal box, marking it mine after six months.
My fingertips brushed over the face of the woman in the picture I’d laminated years ago. Cinnamon hair framed pale white skin and hazel eyes that looked more green than brown. She was beautiful, but it was her contagious smile that touched my memories. My throat swelled, and I pulled my gaze from the photo. Scooping up the sleek black tank top that had sat on the floor of the locker since I’d dropped it there on my first day of work, I headed for the bathroom.
I locked the door behind me and then pulled on it to make sure it was truly locked. Like Bodhi, there wasn’t much I was afraid of. Being cornered while changing didn’t make that list. But if I was cornered, there would be no controlling my reaction. Transforming from human to massive wolf just to tear someone’s head off for surprising me in the bathroom wasn’t exactly on my to-do list, so it was best to make sure that door was good and locked.
My eyes swept over my appearance in the mirror. So much of me matched my mother. I had her hazel eyes, though mine never looked very green, and her face and body shape. As far as smiles went, I wasn’t sure how much mine resembled hers. It had been a long time since I smiled.
The only real difference between our appearances was my hair. A jewel-toned reddish color that I refused to admit bordered on pink, it must’ve come from my father.
Whoever and wherever he was.
The back of my thin, long-sleeved black top fell in a large V with a single thin strap holding it together at the shoulder blades, exposing most of my back. My shirt’s front rested at the base of my neck, covering my chest but more importantly, my collarbone.
With a sigh, I tugged the top over my head and tossed it to the counter beside the sink. The black glitter in the stone matched that of the bartop, contrasting my shirt’s faded black fabric. Cream-colored walls made the bathroom feel bigger and more sanitary than the dark interior of the nightclub.
My gaze fell to the marking on my collarbone that I’d spent the past thirteen years trying to ignore. It was always there, a brand that called me out and marked me as different. A three-inch, faded, and stretched black ink tattoo of one word:
WOLFSBANE.
The title I’d been given at eight years old by the dozens of werewolf Alphas who fought over me, passing me back and forth between packs while they tore each other apart. They’d marked me with the word so that no matter where I ran, any other wolf who saw me would know exactly who and what I was.
I’d been terrified of them at the time, and that fear had faded into a fierce hatred.
The air was heavy in my lungs as I tugged on the skin-tight tank. Though it modestly covered my average-sized chest, my tattoo was entirely on display. My chance of running into another werewolf in a nightclub in the middle of New York City was incredibly slim, but there was still a chance.
Shouldn’t have given in to Bodhi.
I tugged my hair out of its high ponytail, shaking it out. The strands fell nearly to my ass and luckily hadn’t been up long enough to develop that weird indentation a hair tie sometimes left. After arranging the hair to cover my tattoo as well as possible, I left my own top in my locker and went back to the bar.
Bodhi whistled when he saw me.
“I see why you don’t like the uniform. You’ll get hit on by every straight man comes in.”
I rolled my eyes and turned to a set of customers; two men. They looked high-class, like pretty much everyone willing to pay our Manhattan club’s outrageous prices.
“Hello, beautiful. I haven’t seen you here before.” The first man’s eyes landed on my hair and then moved to my chest and didn’t budge. “Why wolfsbane?”
Yep. It went exactly how I expected it would.
The hair drew their eyes in, the tattoo held their attention, and then the boobs took over.
“I usually work nights, and that’s personal. What can I get
you?”
I took their orders and then left to get their drinks before they could ask more questions.
“Told you.” Bodhi grinned, making one of the drinks while I made the other. He handed it to me, and I brought them back to the men.
The one who hadn’t flirted thanked me and went to grab a seat in one of our booths, but the flirty douchecanoe wasn’t getting the message. He slid me a folded $100 bill across the bar and the corner of his lips lifted in that practiced smile all conmen have mastered.
Little did he know he wasn’t the only one skilled at playing people.
“Tell me the story behind the tattoo?”
I picked up the cash and glanced at it, feigning carelessness, before glancing back to the guy. He was looking at my boobs again. That was annoying. Like most other members of the female gender, I’d much rather be looked in the eyes than the nipples.
“My personal life is worth more than a hundred bucks.”
The rich guy took it exactly the way I expected he would: as a challenge.
He slid me another hundred bucks.
I picked it up and tucked both bills into my bra, and then I turned and began walking away.
“You owe me a story, brown-eyes.” The man called out.
“Don’t remember promising one.”
The man paused, and I knew I had him. Walking back to where he sat, I put a little extra swing in my step. Might as well take as much money from this guy as I could.
He took a slow drink of his old-fashioned, then slid two more bills across the counter. I waited for him to lift his fingers from the money, but they didn’t move. This time, he was the one challenging me.
I’d never back down from a challenge.
Well, unless it was to run for my life.
“My mom was murdered a couple months ago. The tattoo reminds me to fight against the big, bad wolves willing to do shit like that.” I lied.
The man’s eyebrows raised as he lifted his fingers from the money. I picked it up and slipped it into my bra with the rest of my tip. I’d pull the bar’s cut out at the end of the day.
“I’m so sorry.”
Bonus: my lie killed his flirty mood.
“Enjoy your drink.” I walked away again, and this time he let me go.
I walked back to Bohdi to help him make drinks for his customers. He stuck his hand out below the bar, where no one would see, and I high-fived him. “This is why you’re my favorite bartender; you’re good at playing rich guys.”
“I have a lot of experience with men who think the world revolves around them.”
“Clearly.”
I served a few more customers, settling into my routine. Every time someone asked about my tattoo, my story changed a little. No one got the truth; it wasn’t theirs to know.
A tall, dark-haired man entered the building early afternoon and caught my attention immediately. His scent filled the air and my mind shifted quickly from human to wolf. I held back a full shift, ready to run out that door like the devil himself was at my heels. Bodhi grabbed my arm before I could escape, and I froze so fur didn’t break through my skin at the contact.
I hated being touched.
“I feel sick, I need to go.” I tried to gently tug my arm from his grip, but that sucker was stronger than he looked.
The other werewolf approached, and every bit of my willpower went into preventing myself from shifting forms. Escaping was a lost cause. Staying human felt similarly impossible.
“Mr. Martin.” Bodhi greeted the werewolf as he slid onto the stool in front of us.
Shit, he was the owner of the nightclub.
Between his 6’3” stature, blue designer suit, and artfully-gelled hair, the man reeked of money and confidence. Bodhi, on the other hand, reeked of fear. I didn’t judge him for it. My own experiences with dominant men had me wanting to run for the hills just as badly as he did. Maybe more.
“Bodhi.” Mr. Martin didn’t nod or smile. His eyes were locked on me. “And who are you?”
I could tell I’d just passed Bodhi on Mr. Martin’s scale of who he judged to be important. My scent alone probably did that for me. Folding my arms, my eyes narrowed at the werewolf in front of me. While I couldn’t sense if he was an Alpha or not, I could tell he was strong. Stronger than me, at least. Male werewolves had different strengths than females, and if this guy chased me, he would catch me.
But it didn’t hurt to try to look intimidating.
“This is Henley Clark, our star bartender. I told you about her over the phone.” Bodhi seemed uncertain of what he was saying, probably because Mr. Martin had hardly acknowledged him.
“Henley Clark.” Mr. Martin said my name, looking me up and down. My hair only covered the “NE” of my “wolfsbane” tattoo, and of course his eyes caught on that immediately.
“And you are?” I didn’t bother playing nice. I was getting out of New York the second this guy left, so he wouldn’t be my boss much longer.
“Kyler Martin. Bodhi, can I have a minute with our star bartender?” Kyler still didn’t look at Bodhi. It was probably safer for Bodhi not to have the wolf’s attention anyway.
“Sure. I mean, if it’s okay with Henley…” My blue-haired friend trailed off, looking to me.
He was my new favorite person. It had been years since anyone asked if something was okay with me. The fact that Bodhi cared even while terrified of the werewolf in front of us made me feel like the four hundred bucks tucked inside my bra.
“Sure. Can you take care of them for me?” I tilted my head toward the couple waiting on the other end of the bar. Bodhi left me with Kyler.
As the owner, the werewolf obviously knew I’d been working for him for six months. There was no use in saying I was just visiting New York or some other shit like that. I’d need a damn good lie to pull this one off.
“You’ve been intruding on my territory for half of a year. What pack are you from? Wolves are supposed to register with the Alpha as soon as they move to a new area.” Kyler spoke rapidly, too quiet for anyone else to hear.
“My pack is out in Washington. My Alpha said he was going to call you for me.” I lied. Not well enough.
“If he had, you wouldn’t be out here unprotected. This city isn’t a safe place for a woman to walk around alone.” Kyler looked to his left and right. He’d mastered the rich boy façade, looking bored as he assessed the people in the building with us.
Was it his real personality or just a front?
“I’ll register with your pack as soon as I get off work. Where can I find them?”
I’d get as far from their location as possible.
“Close by. I’ll take you to meet the Alpha when I’m done with the manager.” He stepped away from the bar, pulling his phone out of his pocket. His fingers flew across the screen, and I wondered if he was texting his Alpha.
I glanced at the door to the kitchen. My escape route. The hairs on my neck prickled, and I didn’t have to look to know that Kyler was watching me. Running away while he was paying attention wouldn’t be smart. Or even possible. The guy was a wolf, so if I ran he would chase me and have the time of his life doing it.
The feeling of his eyes on me went away as he walked over to Bodhi, but returned a moment later. It seemed like this guy wasn’t going to look away from me for long.
It was time to act normal. I served some more people—played another rich guy to get a fat tip, though this one was only $150—and heard all about some new boutique that I knew wouldn’t have anything that costed less than the total sum of the money in my bra. Bodhi showed Kyler around the building as they met, but the werewolf never took his attention off me for more than thirty seconds.
Going to Kyler’s pack wasn’t an option. He didn’t seem to know what my tattoo meant, but there was a good chance that someone in his pack would. And that was a risk I couldn’t take.
When Bodhi and Kyler came within earshot, I waved them over.
“I need a quick bathroom break.” I told
my manager. Bodhi made his way behind the bar, and I met Kyler’s gaze confidently. If he had any reason to doubt me, he’d follow me to the bathroom. Male wolves were relentless, and when they had their eye on something or someone…
In my experience, they got it.
Kyler nodded and I held back an eye roll.
Like I needed permission to go to the bathroom.
Strolling into the back room, I tried to look confident. I nodded at the bartender who would be taking Bodhi’s place when his meeting ended and went straight for my locker, panic finally seeping in. I grabbed my shirt off the bottom, yanked my photo off the inside of the locker door, and tossed my purse over my shoulder.
Then I ran.
Slipping out the back door was easy, but I didn’t have a car or anything to cover my scent as I escaped. It was New York, after all. If I could make it to the subway, I’d survive this encounter with my freedom intact. It was only a few blocks away.
I regretted not changing immediately after stepping out. Even though the sun was still high in the sky and there were crowds of people everywhere, it was freezing cold. October weather in New York City wasn’t as bad as some other places I’d been, but it was too cold for my tank top and jeans.
I made it the first block without a sign of trouble and found myself relaxing just a tiny bit. Although the humans around me would’ve hidden Kyler’s scent if he was following me, I was certain he would’ve caught me by now if he knew who I was and where I was going.
The second block passed by, and I was almost giddy.
One more block and I’d be home-free.
After the third block, I let out a pent-up breath of air and almost smiled. Almost.
My foot was dropping toward the first step down toward the trains when a large hand wrapped around my wrist and tugged. I spun backward, my chest slamming into the front of the man who’d grabbed me.
My chin tilted upward to meet a pair of dark blue eyes on a guy with more muscles than anyone I’d ever seen. The feel of his hard chest pressed to my soft curves made the animal in me want to purr like a freaking cat.
What the hell was wrong with me?