by Lola Glass
London ripped her stiletto off her foot chucked it at Gunner’s head with a fury I’d never realized she possessed. Gunner ducked out of the way clumsily.
“You throw like a girl.” He mocked her.
Were people seriously still slinging gender-based insults? Wasn’t this 2020?
“I am a girl, dummy!” she yanked her other stiletto off and chucked that one too.
Riiight. It was 2020, they were just so drunk we may as well have time-traveled back to the nineties.
I stepped between the two of them.
“The police are on their way, we need to take this back to the ‘scraper.” I put my hands on my hips.
“I’m not going anywhere with him.” London screamed. “He just tried to kill someone for touching me!”
“YOU’RE MINE.” Gunner yelled back.
London pushed past me and swung her fist into Gunner’s face much like he’d done to the poor human on the floor. This time, I heard the crack that was likely both made by breaking fingers and face. It brought to mind images of my own fingers and knuckles breaking against Ledger’s face.
“I wouldn’t be yours if you tattooed your big, ugly name across my forehead.” Her voice dropped as she glowered, clutching her now-broken hand to her chest. “You’re the worst thing that ever happened to me.”
With a roar, Gunner shifted to wolf form and tackled London to the ground. I was actually afraid for her life. If he really wanted to hurt her it would take a lot more than a medium-sized strawberry wolf like myself to stop him, so I yelled at my phone to call Roman. It only rang once before he picked up.
“Hey. What’s—“
“Get to the nightclub now.” I yelled, ripping my clothes off. “Your enforcer lost his freaking mind.”
Roman demanded answers, but I shifted and launched myself toward the dark blond wolf that was Gunner. My back arched as I snarled at him, warning him to back off as I stalked closer. He crouched over his mate possessively, and I realized he wasn’t pinning her to the ground at all. She was just too drunk to realize she could’ve moved if she wanted.
Still, an ambulance was on its way and Gunner was out of control.
I lunged toward him and he jumped backward, as I’d intended. When I snapped at him, he snapped back. He didn’t get anywhere near me, and I realized he hadn’t tried to. He was pissed, but he didn’t want to hurt me.
It was a damned miracle.
I herded Gunner into the break room and then shifted back to human form, locking the door that opened into the nightclub. Breaking into Bodhi’s locker took all of one second, and I pulled his uniform shirt over my head to cover myself. The thing was so tight I couldn’t really breathe, but I didn’t have time to worry about indecent exposure.
Instead I turned a glare at the wolf who was still growling at me.
“Shift back now and go lock yourself in the bathroom.” I barked.
He did. Brown fur gave way to smooth white skin as he morphed back into human form on the breakroom floor, clutching his head in his hands.
I heard the police outside and panic washed through me. We had security cameras, and they’d definitely caught both Gunner and I swapping our skin for fur. I needed to deal with that.
Gunner seemed to have recovered from his lapse in sanity, so I left him and went to deal with the cameras.
I sprinted through the kitchen and broke into the locked door that led to Kyler’s office, then looked around wildly for whatever the cameras would be connected to. My gaze stuck to the large, crazy-expensive computer on the desk and I grimaced. Everything was online these days.
Kyler would delete the footage, but the cops could likely access it from this computer if they tried. The password was written on a sticky note and stuck on the bottom edge of the monitor, so it wouldn’t be hard to do.
The cops were questioning Jamie and Oliver; I could hear them. There didn’t seem to be any kind of a weapon in the office, so I grabbed the item that most closely resembled a baseball bat:
A decorative telescope.
Clutching it in both hands, I swung that sucker into the computer monitor and jumped backward when both the telescope and monitor shattered.
Roman ducked into the office, catching me red-handed.
“You’re okay?”
Geez, his gaze was intense.
I nodded on my way to the door.
“Let’s go!” Cops yelled. They’d be charging toward the noise I’d made.
Grabbing Roman’s arm, I yanked him toward the supply closet and shut us in together. My heart pounded as I pulled my phone out and scrolled through the music, turning on a song with a heavy beat that would drown out most noise.
“Shirt off.” I gestured to his hoodie with one hand, turning the volume up as loud as it would go with the other. His forehead wrinkled and he made no move to follow my order, so I grabbed the edge of the hoodie and began tugging it off myself. The police would be in here in any second, and we needed a believable excuse.
Roman’s shirt hit the floor and I threw myself at him, bare legs wrapping around his hips as I grabbed his face with both hands and yanked it to my own.
Our lips met in an explosion of fire. Heat flooded me, and every thought about the cops vanished from my mind as our bodies moved together. Roman’s hands found my backside, kneading my flesh as he urged me to continue. My nails raked up his back and he growled deep in his chest.
Roman turned us so I was pinned to the shelving along the wall, every part of his body hard as it ground against mine.
The supply closet door splintered inward. Roman blocked me, and I clutched his biceps.
“Hands up.” Two cops had their guns trained on us. Roman’s eyes met mine, the air layered with lust and confusion, as he slowly pulled his hands off my skin. I missed the touch immediately. He turned around, chest still heaving from our kiss, and raised his hands in the air. I did the same, making sure my lower half was hidden behind the giant in front of me so none of them realized I was going commando.
Non-werewolves tended to have a problem with that.
“Is there a problem, officer?” Roman’s voice was grittier than usual. The boner that raged through his jeans was enough evidence to them what had been going on in here.
Clearly a non-committal makeout session wasn’t in the books for us. We’d never be able to keep it in our pants.
The cops glanced at my phone, which still thudded with the bass of my music.
“I work here. Is everything okay?” I leaned my head around Roman to see the officers.
“You’re the bartender?” they checked.
“Yeah. I needed a break before last call. What time is it, by the way?” I acted far more shameless than I felt.
“A quarter past four.” One of the officers looked angry, the other annoyed. They’d probably hoped for a car chase or something. I guess anything was better than walking in on two people getting all hot and heavy on each other.
“Shit. I’d better get dressed and kick everyone out…” I glanced meaningfully at the cops, hoping they’d get the message that they should leave so I could get dressed.
…Which would be a problem, considering my clothes were out on the dance floor.
Shit.
“You didn’t hear anything odd?” They checked.
“Should I have?”
The annoyed cop heaved a sigh, swearing under his breath about horny twenty-somethings as he walked out of the doorway.
“Call your boss. Someone nearly died in your club a little while ago.” The bored one followed his partner out. I gasped dramatically as they left, and then sagged against the shelf behind me when they were gone.
“Quick thinking.” Roman picked up my phone and shut off the music.
“Thanks.” I bit my lip. What did one say after a crazy-hot staged makeout with a guy they had feelings for when they were refusing to acknowledge said feelings?
Hell if I knew.
Roman grabbed my clothes from behind the bar�
�where Jamie hid them, luckily—then we headed out into the main part of the nightclub to see how everyone was faring. Kyler and Roman had pulled Gunner out of the bathroom before Roman found me destroying a perfectly good computer, so at least London’s mate and his incriminating hand injuries wouldn’t be found. His DNA on the human’s face was another story.
Hopefully Roman’s pack had enough money to bribe some officers or Gunner was screwed.
It was a long night-slash-morning of talking to cops. Roman and I rehashed the story of our tryst in the supply room a dozen times to a dozen different people. The sun was up high in the sky when we were finally allowed to leave, and I was so hungry I questioned if I’d survive the drive to food.
Jamie and Oliver took London home while Roman led me to his car.
“Where are we going?” I glanced over at him, bleary-eyed. Food and sleep; I needed food and sleep.
“I hear you have a thing for McDonald’s.” he glanced back, and I met his gaze.
“Sometimes. Right now, I’m craving pancakes.”
Roman turned left at the next stoplight, and we coasted into the parking lot of an upscale breakfast place.
“You ever been here?” he checked. Of course I hadn’t; places like this were far out of my budget. At least they had been before the New York Pack went and made me rich. When I shook my head, Roman parked and came around to open my door. “Their pancakes will change your life.” He promised.
“Don’t go getting my hopes up when you can’t deliver, Romeo.” I warned. He flashed me a smirk, and I rolled my eyes. “That wasn’t a sex reference.”
“Sure sounded like one.” He pulled the door to the restaurant open for me too, leaning his lips to my ear as I brushed past him. “For the record, I’ll always deliver.”
There he went again, making my lady parts go all tingly.
“These pancakes better be freaking good.” I muttered.
And yes, that was a sex reference.
THIRTEEN
It was nearly 8 AM when I finally got home and crashed. Less than an hour later, someone decided to knock on my door. I tried to ignore them but they kept knocking, so I cursed at whoever it was the whole way to the door.
When I swung it open, my jaw fell open. There I was in ancient sleep shorts and a tank top with a giant grease stain over the boob (my pizza obsession was getting to be a real problem), makeup I hadn’t bother to remove last night streaked under my eyes, and the hair I hadn’t washed in four or five days tied up in a messy bun that was probably petrifying into some sort of dry-shampoo rock.
There she was, Maisy Jane, famous pop singer who turned country when she married Jude Roman, also-famous country singer. My mom and I had danced to her music when I was a kid, and I’d followed her ever since. She wore a dress that was likely worth more than my entire closet and her hair fell to her collarbone in chocolate barrel-curls.
“Um, hi?” I stammered.
Damn, I was a mess.
“Hello.” Maisy glanced down at my boob stain and back up at my face. The disgust in her eyes was barely hidden. She offered me a hand, though I could tell she hoped I wouldn’t shake it. “Maisy Jane Ellis.”
My eyes nearly exploded from my face.
Maisy Jane Ellis?
As in Roman’s last name, Ellis?
Hot damn.
“Henley Clark.” I shook her hand, because why the hell not? Roman was determined to talk me into mating with him and if he ever succeeded, she’d be my mother-in-law. That was so crazy I didn’t really want to think about it.
Maisy’s nose wrinkled like I stank and she stepped inside my apartment without permission, careful not to brush up against me.
Bitch.
Closing the door behind us, I followed her into my living room and folded my arms as she critiqued the room.
“My daughter has great taste.” She finally said, not turning to look at me.
“Yep.” Arla had the place furnished at Roman’s request while he and I were eating pizza and picking up my stuff; one of the girls had told me weeks earlier. I’d added it to the list of ways he was different than every other Alpha male in existence and went on with my life.
Maisy narrowed her eyes at me.
“You’re disgusting.”
“I don’t always look like this. I got home from work an hour ago and threw on my pajamas.” I gestured to my clothes and unintentionally pointed to the boob stain.
Shit.
“Precisely.” She sashayed toward me, her chin as high as her stilettos. “Stay away from my son.” She towered over me, trying to threaten me.
Maisy Jane Ellis was the least terrifying person who’d ever threatened me, and I wasn’t exactly a beginner in the world of being threatened.
“I’ve been pushing Roman away for weeks.”
She scoffed like that was ridiculous.
“No woman could push my son away.”
I snorted.
“Cocky, much?”
“Confident. It comes with age.” Her eyes swept up my outfit again. “To some.” She amended.
What was one step up from bitch? Douche-bitch? Was that a thing? Doubtful, but she was one anyway.
“Why are you here?”
“Because you challenged the girl Roman was going to mate with. You think you deserve him, but you don’t. He needs a girl like her, not someone like you.”
My face heated when she gestured toward me—namely, my boob stain. It was looking like my love for pizza was going to get me into a fight with Roman’s mom. Cool.
“He’s been turning Lilac down for years.”
“Great relationships take time.”
“She’s the one who challenged me. If I’d been in human form I would’ve walked away, but what wolf backs down from a fight?” I protested.
“A sensible one.”
Maisy stepped close enough that we were nose-to-nose. Or at least nose-to-neck. I wasn’t above tilting my chin up to meet her glare from below.
“You will leave this skyscraper by midnight tonight and disappear.” Maisy ordered.
I laughed in disbelief.
“I’m not allowed to leave here without three or more enforcers at both of your children’s command. Even if I tried, they’d find me. I smell like some sort of sex bomb to shifter dudes.”
In hindsight, ‘sex bomb’ wasn’t a particularly wise thing to call myself in front of an overprotective mother.
Maisy’s hands shot to my neck, delicate fingers wrapping around my windpipe. My eyes bulged as I gasped for air and got nothing, too focused on trying to get her hands off me to try to attack her.
“You’re misunderstanding me. I will personally slit your throat if you don’t get yourself to a place my son will never find you. Do you understand?”
I jerked my head in a nod. As she released me, my apartment door flew open and Arla rushed inside, cheeks pink. I grabbed my throat as I inhaled air, reeling backward quickly to put distance between myself and Maisy’s insanity.
“Henley, did—what the hell are you doing, mom?” Arla rushed to my side. “Are you alright?” When I nodded, she focused in on my attempted murderer. “Roman is going to kill you. He threw one of his own enforcers out the freaking window for mentioning her smell last week. Her smell! Do you have a death wish?!” her voice lifted to a scream.
I hoped my neighbors had loud music playing, or they’d have a front-row seat to this family drama.
“This nobody is the one with a death wish.” Maisy still wanted to kill me.
Shocker.
“Get out of Henley’s apartment and don’t ever come back.” Arla stood tall, her voice thick with Alpha power.
“She’s going to destroy our family.” Maisy’s voice raised as she strutted out of the room.
“You did that years ago.” Arla yelled back.
The door slammed behind her mother and Arla spun back to me.
“I am so sorry, Henley. That woman is legitimately insane.” She flitted her hand in the di
rection of the door. “Let me see your neck. Can you breathe alright?”
I lifted my chin so she could get a better look. The grimace she wore told me it was a bruised mess already.
“Fine.” My voice was scratchy and talking hurt. “You might want to go do some damage control. She doesn’t seem stable.”
Arla shook her head.
“She’s not. But I won’t leave you until I know that’s okay.” She pointed to my neck.
“How many colors is the bruise?”
Arla eyed it.
“Five. Wait, no. Six. Damn it. I’m sorry, I never should’ve told her your name.”
“You aren’t the one who attacked me.” I headed back toward my bedroom. Arla followed me. “I’m going back to bed. You can watch TV or something.”
“In a room where I can’t watch to make sure you’re still breathing at all times? Not happening.”
I slid into bed, too tired and now too achy to fight.
Arla plopped down on the other side of my bed as I got situated on my stomach. My neck was tender, and I winced as I adjusted the pillow beneath my cheek.
When I closed my eyes and ended up reliving the moment Maisy’s hands wrapped around my neck, followed by Ledger doing the same, I blurted out the first thing that came to my mind.
“Thanks for furnishing this place. I like it.” I paused. “Why was Roman never into Lilac?”
“Truthfully, I don’t know. She didn’t use to be so obsessed with him, but he just wasn’t ever interested in her. He always told me he felt like he was waiting for someone in particular that he hadn’t met yet.”
“That’s ridiculous.”
“You’re ridiculous.” Arla grabbed a nail polish off the dresser and threw it at me. I was too tired to bother dodging, so it bounced off my back and fell on the bed between us. She picked it up. “Is this black nail polish? Who goes to the trouble of painting their own nails black?”
“It makes me feel powerful.” I mumbled into the pillow.
“Hmm.” She considered my words. I smelled the polish when she unscrewed the cap and began to paint her own nails. “Holy shit, you’re right. I’m an Amazonian Warrior-Goddess.”
“Wonder Woman. You’re Wonder Woman. Now shut up so I can sleep.”