Ignoring it for now, she asked, “Why would you care if I'm okay anyway?”
“Thought it was fitting considering the way you stood up to those witches for me.”
Though surprising, Aislinn had to remind herself that she didn't know a hell of a lot about werewolves. She'd simply expected the worst after all the stories she'd heard.
So just to make sure he didn't doubt her, she stated explicitly, “I don't do sacrifices, and I think anyone who needs to perform them is seriously lazy.”
Half a smile lifted the corner of his mouth, and she found herself staring. Now that he wasn't all beastly, and despite his various injuries, the werewolf was actually pretty nice to look at. No, scratch that, nice is an understatement. This man was downright sexy, with thick, tawny hair hanging just past his shoulders in wild disarray, and eyes a chocolate shade of brown that turned golden around his pupils.
His shirtless chest was smaller in muscle mass than it'd been in his alternate form, but that wasn't saying much. Every inch of his body that she could see looked like it'd been carved from granite. Topping it off, his pecs were dusted with dark blond hair, and there was a treasure trail of the same color leading into the waistband of his pants.
The fact that his jeans were tattered and he had a day's worth of scruff growing on his face gave him a rugged appeal Aislinn had a weakness for. But in her currently celibate situation, such a thing only spelled trouble.
So she attempted to focus on the whelps across his chest and the cut in his bicep dripping blood down his arm instead of his physical appeal. He even had a larger gash on his forehead above his left eye, all of which was probably the result of the spell she'd cast.
Still, she inquired just to make sure, “What happened?”
As if he'd only just noticed he was bleeding, he looked down, then shrugged. “I guess your magic's potent.”
An unexpected wave of guilt hit Aislinn, one she pushed away in favor of asking, “Then why did you follow me if you're not trying to kill me?”
“Wanted to say thank you?”
“Try again,” she returned, knowing that wasn't the full truth.
“Okay, then I was curious. What witch traps men just to hold for a short while and then release?”
That was a little more feasible. If the roles were reversed, she would've been curious too, muttering in answer, “One who's trying to join a coven she had no business joining, and it wasn't just men. I was supposed to capture anything supernatural to hold until morning, which happened to be you. But if I'd known they wanted to kill you, I never would've agreed to their trial.”
“I believe you,” he reassured, and somehow, his gaze had her heart fluttering. It was interested, and considering how physically attractive he was combined with her lack of any satisfaction in abstaining for the Rite of Romedra until her birthday next week, Aislinn feared her defenses would crumble much more easily than normal if he acted on that interest.
So in the effort of keeping things simple, she decided to turn and go, saying, “Well, it was nice meeting you, and I'm sorry about all of this.”
Yet, in response to her farewell, he introduced himself. “My name's Troy Ashland. What's yours?”
Sighing, Aislinn came to a stop and asked without looking back, “Why do you wanna know?”
“I'm new in the area, and wouldn't mind befriending an attractive woman.”
Slowly, she turned her gaze toward him, quirking an eyebrow up. Oh boy. The sexy werewolf is flirting. To make things worse, she wasn't getting the sense that he was playing some kind of game with her, which only increased her curiosity.
Still, she forced herself to reply, “Sounds like you're looking for your first conquest then, and if so, you've got the wrong witch.” Wait until next week, then we'll talk.
“Does that mean you wouldn't be willing to offer me a ride? Maybe a little first aid for this?” he asked, motioning to his arm.
Again, guilt assailed her. “How do you know I'm not walking?”
“I don't, but if you are, I could help you get home.”
Aislinn watched him carefully, having no idea what to think of this Troy Ashland or his persistence. But she also didn't dislike it as much as she should considering the situation, bringing her to one simple conclusion.
It's official, werewolves are definitely trouble.
Troy could scarcely believe this witch was the woman he'd been waiting for, wanting to get down on his knees in thanks to whatever higher power had decided on this match.
She was nothing short of stunning from head to foot with curly crimson hair that hung to her lower back, pale skin, and sky blue eyes. Her face was classically defined with a narrow nose and plump lips, and her tank top did little to hide the shape of her curvy breasts.
It was also easy to see that she was apprehensive, but there was a definite interest in her eyes, which was all he needed—well, besides her name.
“Come on, darlin',” he insisted, “I'm not gonna hurt you, and the least you could do is offer me a ride after caging me.”
“Don't call me darlin'.”
“Then what do I call you?”
With a sigh, she shrugged and finally introduced herself. “Aislinn Carmichael.”
“Aislinn,” he repeated, enjoying the way it rolled off his tongue.
The witch bit her lip, suggesting she liked it as well, and if so, Troy couldn't wait to moan it against her ear while thrusting deep and slow between her thighs. The thought stirred his blood in record time, and topping it off, Aislinn might've been on her guard, but she was eyeing him like she'd never seen a more appealing male.
The thought stroked his ego, driving him to move in closer while admiring her rounded face, high cheekbones, and those soft lips, asking, “So, what do you say?”
Aislinn grumbled, turning to walk away with the words, “Fine, where do you live? I can patch you up and drop you off.”
“Braddock's Estate. You know where that is?”
“So werewolves did move in there,” she commented, proving that rumors had definitely been spreading amongst the supernaturals in town—probably starting with the lupines. But that was a matter Troy could handle later, his attention focused on Aislinn when she added, “Hate to say it, but you've got a huge fixer-upper on your hands.”
He scoffed, retorting, “You're telling me. In two months time, we've only scratched the surface.”
“We? How many are staying there?”
“Just a few of us for now. But once the place is fixed, maybe ten others to start.”
“Oh boy,” she drew out, glancing over at him. “You guys know Arkin City's the home of a pack of lupines, right?”
“Yeah, and I'm just hoping they're friendly. We're not here to cause trouble.”
“Really? Because all I've ever heard about werewolves is that they cause trouble.”
He couldn't help his smile. “Maybe, but I can only imagine the kind of trouble you're thinking about. Am I the first werewolf you've ever met?”
She nodded, and he wasn't surprised after they'd isolated themselves for so long, leaving most outsiders clueless over what they were really like. So Troy decided to paint a small picture.
“We can be violent, but we're not bloodthirsty. Well, depending on the situation I guess.”
“What kind of situation?”
“Vengeance, or just protecting ourselves and our families.”
He decided not to mention the cases where werewolves became Savage because it could frighten her to learn that he was on the way there. Finding her had certainly slowed the process, but it wouldn't completely stop until he'd marked and bonded with her.
In turn, Aislinn looked him over, and though he'd explained a little about how his kind could be provoked, the curiosity in her eyes hadn't dimmed. Still, he could also see hesitation there, as if she didn't entirely believe him, which was evidenced by her next question.
Coming to a halt on the side of a dirt road beyond the trees, she started, “Tell me
the truth, why did you follow me? It wasn't just for a thank you, or a ride.”
Though true, Troy wasn't about to admit that she was his mate until he knew what to expect from her. But he wondered why she was so certain there was some underlying reason, inquiring, “Are you psychic?”
“Partly, but I don't need to be to tell that you want something besides what you're asking. You offered to walk me home if I didn't have a ride, so something's up, and I wanna know what it is.”
Despite her misgivings, and his need to keep the truth a secret for now, Troy gave her the smoothest smile he possessed, and stepped in closer—not enough to touch, but just until she had to crane her head back to hold his gaze.
To her credit, Aislinn didn't back away, boldly staying put while he answered, “I guess I'm just a sucker for a woman who looks at me the way you do.”
Her eyes widened. “I'm not—I haven't … ”
“You have,” he countered, keeping his tone casual instead of gloating.
Aislinn stared at him like she might've been embarrassed, but then simply rolled her eyes and grumbled, “Knock it off,” as she turned to walk down the road.
Following, Troy couldn't help his grin, which widened when he overheard her muttering something about being unsure he'd even fit in her car.
Briefly, he wished he'd brought her rose pendant along to make up for her obvious frustration, but that was in his bedroom at the estate because it could've easily been lost during his hunt. There was also no telling how she'd react to receiving such a gift from a stranger.
It didn't matter that she was a witch who already knew about the supernatural and the way some races mated—she was also human, and they could get squeamish when faced with the prospect of being tied to an immortal in an unending relationship.
So for now, he'd get to know a little more about her during their ride, and hope she wouldn't react badly when the truth came to light. It was all just a matter of finding the best way to present the facts, and Troy was eager to get started.
Chapter 7
Aislinn had never been more frustrated in her entire life.
If she didn't owe it to Troy to help him because of the harm her spell had done, she would've left him behind without a second thought. Not only was he one of the most physically attractive men she'd ever laid eyes on, but his flirty comments were driving her insane—particularly when she was the type who loved returning fire in the right situation.
But doing so now would cause Troy to think he could start making moves, and her time abstaining had been irritating enough without a rugged sexpot of a werewolf coming onto her.
So Aislinn was stuck biting her tongue before saying something she'd probably regret. She'd just have to ignore him and maintain a distance until sending him on his way.
Heading in the direction of her car with the thoughts in mind, Troy asked, “So what did you mean when you said you were trying to join a coven you had no business joining, and why did that witch say there could be repercussions?”
“Do you know much about witches?”
“I know my fair share.”
If that was true, Aislinn thought it would be better not to admit she'd attempted their test because her talents had been off kilter lately. That way, bluffs about hexing Troy if he made any moves would sound more threatening, and she offered a half-truth instead.
“For starters, if Cindy and Lisa regularly perform sacrifices for power, they were probably just too tempted not to try bullying me into getting it from you. As for attempting their test, I was giving the coven thing a shot because I felt like I could. But I've honestly never done well in groups.”
Troy seemed to believe her, stating, “My cousin practices, and she prefers to work alone, too.”
“Werewolves practice the Craft?”
“Some of us have picked up on it,” he confirmed. “Magic has its uses.”
Aislinn was surprised to hear him say such a thing, and he further stunned her by asking, “Are you a born witch, or just a practitioner?”
“You know the difference?”
“Yeah.”
Not everyone paid attention to the details, and she was impressed. “I'm a born witch. What about your cousin?”
“Werewolves aren't born that way that I know of, some simply practice at it.”
She nodded, only able to imagine that a werewolf practitioner was likely formidable with the Craft. Though born witches were inherently more powerful, a practitioner could hone their abilities with time well enough to rival them—and werewolves were immortal.
With the thought in mind, they arrived at her car, being an older model two door sedan painted a light blue—in most places, anyway. But though it wasn't much to look at, it was in great working condition, and most importantly, it was all hers.
She unlocked the doors while Troy headed to the passenger's side where he mentioned, “I think you're right.”
“About what?”
“It's gonna be a tight squeeze in here.”
Aislinn stared blankly, but then recalled muttering about how he probably wouldn't fit in her car just a few minutes ago. He heard that? She'd whispered the words, figuring if a lupine wouldn't have heard, neither would he.
Apparently, Troy's senses were stronger than theirs. Note to self, no muttering around him about how freaking hot he is.
“I could always just tie you to the roof,” she joked, climbing in to start the ignition.
Troy was smiling when he sat down next to her, and Aislinn ignored the handsome expression by pointing out a pack of tissues in the glove box that he could use to wipe up the blood staining his skin.
Putting her car into gear, she glanced over when his arm brushed hers to see that it was, in fact, a tight squeeze for Troy inside the vehicle. The top of his head was almost against the roof, reminding her of tiny clown cars at a circus. So this is what the clowns look like before they get out.
When her snickering earned a questioning glance, Aislinn excused, “Sorry, you just don't look very comfortable.”
She pulled onto the road with her comment, and Troy smirked while glancing around at the interior of her car. It was decorated with fairy stickers on the windows, butterfly seat and steering wheel covers, various ornaments hanging from the rear view mirror, and he looked incredibly out of place among it all.
The more she considered it, the more amused she became, especially when he commented, “If you mean that I don't have any leg room, then I'm not. As for the fairies … ”
She couldn't hide her grin. “Not up your alley?”
“Not even remotely.”
“Hey, you asked for a ride.”
“I did,” he agreed, adding with a smooth smile in her direction that she wasn't sure she could handle without fanning herself, “and I don't regret it.”
Aislinn decided then and there to keep her eyes on the road, exhaling low with the uncertainty of what she'd gotten herself into by letting him come along. A man like that begged to have a fantasy made just for him, and damned if she didn't want to let her imagination run as wild as it ever had.
Even after seeing his bestial form, she was attracted to him—not that she'd gotten a very close look. But judging by what she'd seen from a distance, she thought it was actually kind of sexy in a deadly, I'd eat you for dinner and spit out your bones kind of way.
Or I'm just suffering from sexual withdrawals.
Abstinence, Aislinn decided, could be a dangerous thing.
“But I guess you do,” Troy remarked.
Drawn from her thoughts, she narrowed a brow in confusion. “Do what?”
“Regret giving me a ride,” he returned, reminding her of their conversation.
“Oh? How so?”
“You don't look very thrilled to have me here.”
Aislinn pursed her lips. On any normal day, it wouldn't have bothered her. He definitely wasn't the kind of ferocious beast she would've thought, and she wouldn't mind knowing more about him and his kind. But right no
w, having a muscular, shirtless man in her passenger's seat wasn't exactly something she considered thrilling so much as she did irritating.
“It's not you,” she excused. “I'm just tired.”
“Up all night with your trap?”
“Yeah, I'm gonna go crash after I drop you off.”
“Where?”
Though she was taking him to her shop to fix up his injuries first, she wasn't sure she should let Troy know she lived in an apartment right above it, asking, “Are you digging for information?”
“I am.”
His easy admission made her sigh. Why couldn't you have shown up next week? Rolling her eyes, she countered, “Why should I tell you where I live?”
“Because I wanna see if there's butterflies and fairies all over the place there, too.”
Aislinn grinned. “You're not like I thought you'd be, you know?”
“Which is a bloodthirsty killer, right?”
She shrugged. “I just didn't think you'd have much of a sense of humor. It's kind of annoying.”
“How so?”
“It makes you likeable, and I don't want to like you.”
Troy looked amused—and even triumphant—before he gazed through the window. They were now in a residential neighborhood that led into the city limits, about ten minutes away from the business district and Strange Brew, and Aislinn decided to put her foot on the gas to get him on his way faster.
She had to wonder about her night as well, and more specifically, her intuition on trying to join The Trine. It'd said there would be something beneficial to come out of the attempt, but the only thing she'd gained that evening was a couple of headaches.
On the other hand, maybe her encounter with Troy would be beneficial for business. If werewolves practiced witchcraft, it stood to reason they'd need supplies, and Aislinn was always looking to expand her customer base.
She'd take her silver lining where she could find it in any event, asking, “How long has your cousin practiced the Craft?”
“I haven't kept up, but it's been a while.”
Strange Brew Page 7