Strange Brew

by Angela Colsin

  “If she needs supplies, I sell them.”

  “You own a shop?”

  “I do,” she confirmed, taking a left into the business district of the city. “That's where we're going for something to fix those cuts before I take you home.”

  Troy smirked, almost as if he knew something she didn't, and it suddenly struck Aislinn that he probably didn't need first aid at all, and instead, was only using it as an excuse to have more time with her. Why, she couldn't say for certain, too tired to read between the lines just then, and decided not to call bullshit on him for that reason.

  But she was distracted anyway when the werewolf seemed to notice something of interest, lifting a rose charm hanging from her collection of beads and ornaments over the rear view mirror to inspect.

  “You like roses?” he asked curiously.

  The word like wasn't strong enough. Aislinn adored roses in all colors and varieties, though she was particularly fond of the red ones. Still, she only answered, “Yeah, I like them, why?”

  Troy released the charm, shrugging a shoulder. “Just curious.”

  That was clearly a lie. Out of all the items hanging from her rear view mirror, he'd singled out the rose, so it had to be significant. “Okay, if you wanna hide something, I'll let it slide.”

  He must've thought that was her intuition talking because he glanced at her curiously and asked, “If you're psychic, why did you run from me to begin with? You should've known I didn't mean you harm.”

  “First of all, being psychic isn't the same as being omniscient,” she explained. “Second, you're not human, so it's harder to read your intentions. Lastly, I've never been incredibly gifted with it, I just have enough insight to pick up on things from time to time.”

  “What kinds of things?”

  “Well,” she started, trying to think of the best way to explain. “Sometimes, I have visions, but that's rare. Mostly, it's just a feeling, vaguely knowing something is happening somewhere, or picking up on another person's intentions.”

  After thinking it over, Troy suggested, “Sounds like a handy talent to have for making sales.”

  Aislinn smiled sheepishly, admitting, “Sometimes I do that,” but it was a partial lie. She'd definitely taken advantage of knowing what a customer was looking for and the type of approach it would take to get them to buy something before.

  But where she was decent at that tactic, her cousin, Annika, made her look like an amateur.

  The two had been raised together as sisters, and never bothered to correct the people who mistook them as such. Both possessed red hair and similar features, but they were polar opposites in many ways—Aislinn was more direct when it came to men while her cousin shied away, especially in intimate situations. Annika didn't even like to be naked outside of the shower, but Aislinn would clean her entire apartment in the buff without a second thought.

  When it came to Strange Brew, their differences complimented one another particularly well. Annika wasn't great with magic, but her psychic talents helped get the sales to come in, and Aislinn's high quality magic concoctions kept the customers returning.

  Sadly, Annika was attending Eliard Massachusetts' Academy of Occult Sciences, a school catering specifically to born witches, and wouldn't be back until her graduation in the Spring. So Aislinn had to make due without her skills in the meantime.

  Pulling onto the road where Strange Brew was located, she parked in an alleyway between her shop and the empty building next door, then turned off the engine, announcing, “This is it.”

  Climbing out, she found herself particularly curious about what Troy might think of the place—not that it really mattered when she was planning on getting him in and out as fast as possible.

  And yet, she couldn't shake the nagging suspicion that things weren't going to be that easy.

  Exiting the car, Troy walked around to the front of the building with Aislinn, asking, “Strange Brew?”

  “Yeah, why?”

  “It's clever,” he returned, wondering if this was the same shop Adriana mentioned getting supplies from, but he'd have to ask the fae later. For now, he was too busy looking the place over to think much of it.

  The boutique storefront was housed in a two story building with a red, concave awning spanning the front of the shop. A string of white lights lined the inside of the front window next to the door, and the sign above the awning displayed Strange Brew in white letters with a red background.

  The line of text beneath read New Age Shop – Metaphysical & Organic Supplies – Psychic Readings.

  There was also a staircase in the alley that led up to a door on the top level. Troy wondered what might have been on the second floor, but didn't think now was a good time to pry.

  When Aislinn unlocked and opened the front doors, his nose was hit with myriad scents coming from inside, most of them herbal. The walls were painted red with a black edging, and the floor was wood. Wind chimes and crystals hung from the ceiling, and books lined the left wall, including a limited set of DVD's and CD's. On the right side of the shop was a sitting area with a magazine stand, and a cold case containing bottles of tea and frozen coffees for sale.

  The isles were wooden and lined up in neat, vertical rows, sporting assorted supplies to aid in occult and ritualistic practices, as well as items for everyday use like organic hand lotions and body wash.

  Aislinn headed to the front counter which had a glass case sitting next to it, displaying more pricey items such as crystal balls and engraved chalices. Behind it was a curtain covered doorway that she motioned for him to follow her through, and he stepped in to see a storage room.

  Shelves ran along the walls carrying vials of various shapes and sizes, as well as runes and other mystical wares that most humans didn't know the true value of. One of them even possessed jars holding different types of insects, and beneath it stood two small aquariums, one housing frogs, the other newts.

  On the far wall was a counter with a sink, and a circular table stood in the center of the room covered by a red velvet cloth. Upon it was a crystal ball with two tall candelabras on either side.

  Aislinn asked him to wait there, disappearing through another door with a set of stairs behind it on the left wall, and Troy wondered if perhaps the second floor was actually where she lived.

  But he pushed the thought away for the moment, going to use the sink to wash away the dried blood staining his skin while waiting. In the process, he tried to figure out how he might reveal the truth. Aislinn seemed to be laid back, but he still wasn't sure she'd be able to accept the words you're my mate without difficulty.

  Pondering his dilemma, Troy pulled a few paper towels free from the dispenser to dry his hands and turned to lean against the counter. It was then that he spied a few sets of tarot decks on a shelf not far away, which gave him an idea.

  Maybe the easiest way to reveal that she was his mate was to let Aislinn discover it for herself through a reading. Then she couldn't go into denial, or claim he was lying, and he wouldn't have to worry with articulating it in a way that wouldn't spook her—not that he didn't think she wouldn't get squeamish anyway.

  But this method would hopefully soften the blow, and it was better than letting her continue on without knowing the truth.

  Aislinn returned a few minutes later, carrying a tray with a wash cloth, soda can, and a vial possessing some type of dark liquid, probably for treatment of his wounds. Settling the items on the counter next to the sink, she wordlessly motioned to them.

  Grabbing the cloth, Troy asked, “What's this for?”

  “The blood,” she explained.

  “I already cleaned up.”

  “Yeah, but,” she pointed at his head, “you missed the gash over your eye.”

  Reaching to swipe his fingers along the side of his face, there was indeed fresh blood staining them when he pulled his hand back. Grumbling, Troy muttered, “Forgot about that one.”

  “How could you forget about a gash in your head?”
Aislinn asked, taking the cloth to wet in the sink before urging him to face her.

  He didn't refuse her help whatsoever, standing still as she started to clean the spot he'd missed while answering her question, “Werewolves have a high tolerance to pain.”

  “Lucky you,” she retorted, and because of his height, he had to lean in closer, enough so to catch her scent over the other fragrances in her store. Additionally, his eyes locked on her soft lips, the urge to kiss her growing stronger by the second.

  But she drew him from his stupor when she suggested, “You just wanted to know where my shop was.”

  “Why do you say that?”

  Aislinn gave him a knowing look. “Because, with the exception of your head, these cuts aren't that bad.”

  It was true—he'd heal by the afternoon without aid. But as if it were a viable excuse, he muttered, “They still sting.”

  Aislinn chuckled—a sound he wanted to hear more often—and pulled the cloth away from his head to step back, retorting, “Then I think what you really need is a laxative so you're not so full of it.”

  Troy grinned, completely smitten with this witch and her sense of humor. But before he could make a proper comeback, she instructed, “For now, just drink a cap full of the tonic. But be warned, it tastes like shit, hence the soda chaser.”

  Shrugging, he lifted the vial and unscrewed the cap to sniff the contents, which wasn't offensive to the nose, making him think it couldn't be that bad. So he poured a cap full and drank it in one gulp, settling the item back down without taking the soda.

  But after a moment, a foul taste he couldn't describe formed on his tongue, and he cringed, quickly grabbing the can to crack open.

  Seeing this, Aislinn laughed. “Told ya so.”

  Still able to taste a trace of the tonic even after his chaser, he downed a little more, then conceded, “Next time I'll listen.”

  She offered a look that seemed to question why he thought there would be a next time, but then shrugged, remarking, “Well, let's go, I'm eager to come back and get some rest.”

  As Aislinn covered her mouth in a yawn, he took notice of the way she'd phrased her statement with the words come back, meaning she probably lived upstairs and was too tired to notice she'd let it slip—or decided she really didn't care if he knew her place of residence.

  But he grasped her wrist to stop her before she could walk away, asking, “First, you tell fortunes, right?”

  Casting her gaze back, she responded, “Usually.”

  He quirked a brow. “Usually, but not now?”

  “No, just not for you.”

  “Why not?”

  Aislinn sighed, explaining, “For one thing, I'm tired. For another, I don't always read well for non-mortal species even on the best of days.”

  He exhaled quietly, wanting her to rest, but still needing to give her the truth. So he decided to try buying her.

  “I'll pay twice what you normally charge.”

  A look of temptation overcame her visage. “A hundred bucks, huh?”

  “If you usually charge fifty, then I guess so.”

  A small smile lifted her lips, and it was plain to see she wasn't being completely honest. But Troy didn't give a shit, particularly when she agreed.

  “Okay, deal, but I'm not promising details, just general information.”

  “Fair enough,” he conceded, taking a seat at the table with her direction.

  Aislinn grabbed a deck of cards from the shelf, then moved her crystal ball to the side of the table for space. Troy watched as she then shut the blinds covering the window, briefly throwing the room into darkness until the wicks on the candles began burning of—seemingly—their own accord.

  The firelight bathed the area in a warm, relaxing glow while Aislinn sat across from him and opened the box of cards.

  Shuffling them, she inquired, “What did you wanna ask?”

  “About my love life.”

  The witch lifted a brow as if she hadn't expected someone like him to ask about such a thing. “Your love life?”

  Grinning, Troy suggested, “I'm a sentimental guy.”

  She snorted over his sarcasm, returning, “Okay, anything specific you wanna know about, if I can divine it?”

  “I'd like to know how well things are gonna work out with my mate.” Then, just to get her going, he added, “If you can tell me how good the sex will be, I'll raise the payment.”

  Aislinn was now shaking her head, but continued shuffling the cards before cutting the deck into two stacks and setting them out, waving a hand to say your choice.

  Troy wasn't picky, choosing the stack on the left, which she grabbed to sit on top of the deck, and began placing the cards face down in three rows of three, adding an extra card to the bottom of the spread.

  As she concentrated on the reading, his eyes were fixated on her face, taking in the way the candlelight played off her skin as she started going through the cards. Here's hoping this works.

  Chapter 8

  Troy was watching Aislinn intently, making it hard to tell if he was serious about this reading, or simply using the time to figure out his next move.

  But she was serious about her own work regardless of the way he looked at it, and turned the first card over to get started—not that she knew how accurately she would interpret them.

  Still, if he was paying her twice as much as normal—particularly when she'd upped the price due to the difficulty involved—then she was all up for trying. Easy money.

  It was also an opportunity to find out more about the werewolf without asking him directly, and after reading over a few cards, she learned first and foremost that Troy hadn't been in great spirits in recent years. Something powerful had bound him, something violent, and there was a thin line between that nature and what was on the surface, even now.

  But it seemed that he was starting to get past it with something new coming into his life—or, that was, someone.

  The love of his life.

  “You've already met your mate,” she began, experiencing a surprising pang of disappointment. Then again, Aislinn was at the desperate level of frustrated, and he was incredibly attractive, so she ignored the letdown in favor of telling herself this was good news.

  “I have,” he confirmed, “and for the short time I've known her, I can tell she's already shifted things into place that I thought were lost.”

  Aislinn could see that in the cards. “That's good, because from what I can see, she's gonna be the love of your life, and you guys will have a big family.”

  “Is that so?” he asked with a hint of a fond smile. “Can you see how many children?”

  “Not specifically, but I am seeing some trouble between you two in the beginning.”

  “What kind of trouble?”

  “She has goals that'll clash with yours. But,” Aislinn paused, then nodded, “if you're looking for a good sex life at least, you've hit the jackpot. You two are very compatible in bed.”

  “Really?” he asked pointedly, and she briefly glanced up, noticing an inexplicably amused glint in his eyes. Still, it seemed better not to ask when she was feeling an odd amount of jealousy, and put her full attention back on the cards.

  That's something more detailed caught her attention. “Huh,” Aislinn started, “that's funny, your mate's a young, energetic redhead with … ”

  Trailing over the description, she cast her gaze back up at Troy to realize he was watching her pointedly—and suddenly, she wanted to kick herself.

  Psychic intuition wasn't needed to figure the expression out, and if she wasn't so tired, she would've put two and two together a lot sooner. But it finally added up—his flirtations that morning, the way he'd chased her down, and the look he was giving her now could only mean one thing.

  I'm his mate?

  Quickly, she stood from the table with her hands held up, exclaiming, “Whoa, no way, not me.”

  “Yeah, you,” he answered.

  “But … how?”


  He hadn't chosen her, had he? As far as she knew, immortals imprinted without choice, and proving her assumption right, Troy stood to approach, answering, “That's just what fate's decided.”

  Aislinn backed away from the big werewolf, ready to issue another denial. But then she realized he'd known all this time, and the thought filled her with enough anger to stand her ground and exclaim, “You knew and didn't say anything!”

  “I didn't wanna scare you, darlin',” he replied, his voice deep and dripping with an irritating amount of charm as he lifted his hands to settle against the counter behind her, boxing her in.

  Her heart fluttered despite herself as Troy slowly leaned toward her. Normally, Aislinn didn't find herself searching for the right thing to say, but there was a look of reverence in his warm brown eyes mixed with a more heated intent that scrambled her thoughts so thoroughly she could only whisper, “You're scaring me now.”

  His mouth came a breath away from hers, and her throat went dry as he asked, “Scaring you, or exciting you?”

  Both, she thought, but didn't say so. All too often, she'd wondered if the lupines in Arkin City had ruined her for this type of thing. There were various reasons, but one of the biggest was how dedicated the men were to their mates, and over time, she'd started to hope one of them would bond with her.

  Furthermore, she found their earthy, rugged nature to be attractive—a nature Troy seemed to share. But he wasn't a lupine, and there was a big difference. As far as Aislinn knew, werewolves didn't have a bonding phase, and she had no idea what to expect from one who'd found his mate—especially when Troy's expression had grown so intensely adoring as he murmured, “I used to wonder what I'd say to my mate when I found her, but right now, the only thing I can think of is thank you.”

  “Thank you?”

  “For saving my life.”

  She had no idea what he was talking about, and couldn't respond anyway. His lips gently brushed over hers, and the contact was electric, dazing. Another brush stole her breath, and then his muscled arms encompassed her, claiming her mouth in a possessively heated kiss.