Tabby picked up a kernel and threw it at him. “Legolas isn’t a girl.”
He turned, raising one black brow, his full lips quirking in a smile. “Isn’t she?” He tilted his chin toward the screen, his expression turning devilish. “You think Aragorn doesn’t want a piece of that, Arwen or no?”
Tabby put her feet up on the coffee table and stretched out. “Yeah, and when Aragorn lifts Legolas’s kilt, he’s going to find the special surprise inside.” Julian choked on the popcorn and started laughing. Score one for me. She stole the bowl out of his lap and settled in to watch the movie.
“This is it? This is what Chloe left Oregon for?” Bunny walked down the street, pausing to peer into the window of a store. It was very…pink inside. A group of women sat on an old sofa, drinking tea and laughing, while a short, dark-haired female rang up purchases on an old-fashioned cash register. He shuddered and looked up at the sign. Wallflowers. Should be called Hen House. He moved away before any more testosterone could be sucked out through his pores.
Ryan chuckled. “She loves it here and swears we will, too.”
Bunny shrugged. “Whether or not I stay is still up in the air.” He paused, looking in another store. Comic books. Much more his style. I wonder if they have a good manga section? He was always on the lookout for a good store, and if he was going to stay here—
“Oh, no, you don’t.” Ryan grabbed hold of his collar and pulled him away from the glass. “I swear, it’s like those French pigs and truffles. If there are comic books around, you’ll sniff them out.”
Bunny rolled his eyes, but allowed his cousin to pull him away. He made a mental note to come back later without the two-hundred-and-twenty-pound wet blanket. “I swear, Ryan. You’re getting old.”
“I’m twenty-seven! And you, asshole, are twenty-eight!”
Bunny put his hand on his heart. “But I’m young inside. Where it counts.”
Ryan shook his head and let him go. “And this is why you’re not allowed out on your own.”
Bunny just grinned and followed his cousin down Main Street, Halle. They’d find Chloe, who hadn’t been either at her apartment or the diner she usually worked at. Her problems would be over, whether she liked it or not.
Then he’d be going home.
Now if only he could figure out why his Bear growled every time he thought of home, he’d be golden.
Tabby stared out the window of Living Art at the sunny spring day and sighed. “Today is going to be another shitty day.”
“You’re just saying that because your roots are showing.”
Tabby turned to her friend Cyn and growled, the sound deep and feral and in no way human.
Cyn laughed. “Hon, if I was afraid of you, I’d never have hired you.”
Tabby rolled her eyes and turned her attention back to the front window. “We haven’t had a customer all day.”
“Mondays.” The women looked at each other and echoed, “They suck the big fat hairy one.” Very few people came in for a tattoo on a Monday afternoon.
Glory, the one who handled all the piercings at Living Art, twirled in her chair. Her long blue hair flared out around her. “Preaching to the choir.”
Cyn shook her head, her dark hair startling with its new hot pink stripes. “And then there’s Saturdays.”
The three women exchanged a look and shuddered. Saturdays had become something of a pain in the ass for the three women. Gary and his friends had stepped up their harassment of Tabby since the incident in the woods, often enough that the police had been called out to the store twice now thanks to the catcalls, thrown eggs and worse. She was pretty sure Gary was responsible for the graffiti they’d found on the window one Saturday morning. The spray-painted “Cunts” had caused Cyn to break out in foul-sounding Hispanic curses. It was turning into a problem that not even the hunky Sheriff Anderson could deal with. While he might be a Puma, he was only one Puma, and since it wasn’t affecting the Pride, she didn’t feel comfortable discussing it with Dr. Cannon or his Curana. She wasn’t Puma, she was Wolf, and her problems weren’t theirs.
She’d traveled for years as a wolf, living off the land, before arriving in Halle six months ago, half-starved and ready to reenter the human race. She’d passed out in the backyard of a woman named Sheila Anderson, and that was the luckiest break she’d had in years. Her grandson, Sheriff Anderson, had quietly found her a place to stay, food to eat and a place to work. She now apprenticed under Cyn, had gotten her driver’s license and a car, and almost had her GED. It was weird to think that she owed all that to a Puma lawman and his bossy grandmother who weren’t even Wolves. She didn’t want to cause him or his family any more trouble than she had, despite the fact that every time he found out about one of the little stunts Gary and his friends pulled, his jaw clenched tighter. Life had been good right up until the Asshole Pack had found her. She still didn’t feel comfortable asking the Pride for help, and the Poconos Pack Alpha, Rick Lowell, was still a freakishly scary man. Rumor had it his new Luna, a Puma who’d lived in Halle, was even scarier. She’d never met the Puma Luna and had no intention of doing anything that might get her attention. She shook her head, catching sight of her lime green bob in the mirror behind the register. She grimaced as she noticed the dark roots starting to show again. “Gah. Cyn? Hair emergency.”
Cyn laughed. “C’mon, honey, we have time. Have a seat.” Cyn grinned, pulling out the crème bleach. The tattoo parlor had once been a beauty parlor, and Cyn had opted to keep one of the sinks in place to do the girls’ hair. “Glory, keep an eye out front.”
“Will do.” Glory flipped her hair over her shoulders and smirked. “Make sure to get all those roots or she’ll look like she needs to be mowed.”
“Lucky bitch.” Tabby leaned back in the chair as Cyn began applying the lightener to her roots. “Wish I had naturally blonde hair like some people!”
Glory’s giggles almost drowned out Cyn when she clucked her tongue. “Tabby, you are the only woman I’ve ever met who makes a lime green bob look sexy.”
“That’s because I’m the only woman you’ve ever met with a lime green bob.” When she’d first met Cyn and Glory, her hair had been long, scraggly and depressingly brown. She’d taken one look at their hair and nearly cried in relief. Finally, some people she could relate to, who understood her! She wasn’t some evil little troublemaker; she was just someone who was different. Cyn had offered to do her hair and the rest, as they say, was history. She’d sported the lime green ever since, and damn if she didn’t rock it, even if she did say so herself.
Cyn ignored her. “So, who cares if it takes a little work?”
“Luscious alert!” Glory sounded positively giddy.
Tabby and Cyn peeked out from behind the curtain as a man walked past Living Art. He paused, looking in the window at the flash—the artwork depicting their most popular tattoos—they’d taped up. He was an absolute to-die-for hunk of a man. His light brown skin glistened over muscles that made Tabby’s mouth water. He was bald, and from this distance she couldn’t tell if it was a style choice or nature that made him that way. Some sort of tattoo circled the biceps closest to the window, but Tabby was too far away to tell what it was. Something about the way he moved had every one of her senses sitting up and begging. “Dibs.”
Cyn poked her. “Bitch. What if he likes the taste of Mexican instead of Hushpuppies, huh?”
Tabby giggled. “You are so bad.”
“What?”
“You heard me.” Tabby looked back to find the man peering in the window. One dark brow rose as he caught them looking at him, a smile flirting around his luscious-looking mouth. Oh, the things she would love to have that mouth do to her.
Tabby ducked back behind the curtain. “Shit. I think he caught us.”
Glory darted behind the curtain. “Ohmigod!” She collapsed, laughing. “Oh shit.”
“You think he’ll come in?”
“I don’t know.” The sound of the bell brought on
a quickly smothered giggle. “Oh hell. Glory?”
“On it, but now I’m calling dibs.” Glory rushed out before either Tabby or Cyn could protest.
“Greedy bitch.”
Cyn bopped her on the head with the brush. “Look who’s talking.” She picked up the bottle of bleach and a comb. “Now lie down and hold still. I have some roots to kill.”
Tabby sat back in the chair and wished that she’d waited five more minutes to ask Cyn to fix her hair. It could have been her out there checking out the hottie instead of sitting in Cyn’s chair getting bleached.
Bunny entered the tattoo parlor, pulled by the sight of bright, rainbow-colored hair and pretty, feminine smiles. He looked around and smiled. This place was pretty nice.
The tattoo parlor had that feminine touch to it without being the homage to estrogen that Wallflowers place had been. The walls were a bright aqua color, displaying the flash to advantage. The women had hung a nice, big art piece behind the counter that was rather more than flash. It looked like a giant, full-color pair of dragons, one red, one blue, circling together in a yin-yang, but was obviously a full-color tattoo inked onto someone’s back. The counter was made completely of glass and housed more flash in one section, both black-and-white and color, and jewelry for piercing different body parts. He eyed the Prince Albert and shuddered, resisting the urge to cup himself protectively. The flash in the windows and on the walls was in silver frames, making it look even more like art. Two large books lay open on the counter, bound in brown leather and containing more tattoos. The floor was wood, a dark ebony stain that would hide spilled ink. Looking down the long length of the corridor, he could see four curtained-off cubicles, probably where the women worked. At the very end was a last curtained-off area marked “Employees Only”.
The women, if they were the owners, had made the place look both welcoming and classy. He could see both men and women coming in here and being comfortable.
The tan-colored chairs near the window looked soft and inviting, but he had no interest in them. What he did want was down the aisle, behind the employees-only area. He could smell her, and she smelled wonderful. It was the same scent that had tickled him when he’d opened the door to Living Art Tattoos; a sassy, succulent scent that drew him like nothing else ever had. He’d almost barreled into the back room to find the owner of that scent when a blue-haired girl stepped out from behind the curtain and intercepted him. She brought with her the scent of the three women, but the citrusy scent that was hers alone was strongest, and not the one he was looking for. Curly, pale blue locks fell almost to the woman’s waist. Bright blue eyes almost the same shade as her hair watched him with a mix of desire and sweetness that would have attracted Bunny on any other day. She was looking at him like he was a tall glass filled with chocolate mousse and she happened to have a very long spoon.
“Welcome to Living Art. I’m Glory. Can I help you with anything?” She batted her lashes at him, but Bunny wasn’t interested. It was disappointing, too. She looked just like one of the heroines in the manga he liked to read, all big eyes and hair and sweet, innocent smiles. He could see himself spending a pleasant evening or two in her bed and finding out just how innocent she really was.
But that tantalizing scent tickled his nostrils again, sending a definite message to his cock to rise and shine. The gleam in the blue-haired girl’s eyes said she’d noticed and approved. Bunny backed out of pinching reach. “Excuse me, but the other two ladies who were in here. Where are they?”
The woman made a face, disappointment lighting her features. The flirtatiousness disappeared. “Cyn and Tabby are in the back. Cyn owns the shop. Would you like to speak to her?”
He had to come up with something plausible. “Actually, I was thinking of getting a tattoo.” He had a few already, so another one would be no big deal. A lot of women seemed to enjoy tracing the spiral triskelion design on his left biceps, the dark angel on his right shoulder. He had a black-inked, woodcut-style tailed bear with colored stars for the constellation Ursa Major on his lower back.
“What kind?”
A sudden image flashed before his eyes, so strong it startled him. “A bear and a wolf, I think.” Wolf? Is that what I’m smelling? He didn’t know there were any Wolves living in Halle. The only non-Puma he was aware of was his cousin Chloe, and she was Fox.
She blinked. “I think we can do that.”
“The bear will need to be pretty specific too.” He wasn’t about to go into details, not until after he’d met the owner of that scent. He was pretty sure that was his mate behind that curtain and he didn’t want to scare her off.
A Wolf? Really? He almost laughed. It seemed he was carrying on the family tradition of non-Bear mates. Ryan and Chloe’s mother was a Fox, and his Uncle Ray had also married a Fox. Bunny’s mother had been human, but despite that, his father had still caught flack in his mostly human community for marrying a black woman. His relatives had known better, and welcomed his mom with open arms. Fighting fate on your mate never worked out the way you expected it to, and you usually wound up in your mate’s arms at the end anyway, so why give yourself the grief?
“Oh.” She bit her lip. “Well, I do mostly piercings, but I could see if Cyn is available.”
“Please.”
She nodded and headed for the curtained-off area at the back. He could hear the murmur of voices, but neither one set off his senses.
“I wonder which one Cyn is,” he muttered. “Green or pink?”
“Pink.” He turned to find the woman with striking dark hair with broad pink streaks smirking at them. “I’m Cyn.” She held out her hand. “So, you want a tattoo, big guy?”
Bunny hid his grimace. Damn it, he wanted to see his mate, and pink Cyn wasn’t her. Cyn’s scent was sharper, harder. More lemony. “Yes, actually I do. The other young lady, what does she do?”
Cyn eyed him with suspicion. “Tabby is an apprentice tattoo artist.”
Bunny coughed. Nah. He could not have just heard that his Wolf mate was named after a kitty cat. No Wolf parent would be that cruel. Maybe it was Gabby or Darby or—
“Whose hair is about to fall out if you don’t get the bleach out now!”
Bunny shivered as that deep southern drawl prowled over his skin. His dick had gone from zero to hero in two seconds flat.
Oh yeah. He’d found his mate. Now he just had to claim her.
Oh shit. Oh, fucking shit. Tabby waited as Glory rinsed her hair out. My mate is out there. My mate. What’s even weirder? Bear. My mate is a Bear. And I have orange roots.
She was damn near hyperventilating. When she’d called dibs on the dude, little did she know she’d actually get him! And now she was going to wind up meeting him for the first time with orange roots. She was going to look like a half-melted Skittle. She grabbed Glory’s arm. “Y’all tell him I’m dead. Please?”
Glory grinned. “What is wrong with you?”
“Remember the whole woof-woof thing?”
“Yeah.”
“That guy out there?”
Glory’s eyes widened. “He’s a woof-woof too?”
“Er, no. More like grrr-grrr.”
Glory blinked.
Tabby shook her head. “Never mind. That whole werewolf mate thing in romance novels?”
Glory’s mouth did that really wide “O” thing. “Really? He’s your mate?”
“Yes! And I am having serious hair issues.” She put on her best pleading look. “So, tell him I’ve been killed in a horrible vegetable-dye accident.”
“Tabby!”
She held up her hands in mock-prayer. “Pleeeease?” She blinked, trying to look desperate. Hell, she probably did look desperate.
“Excuse me.”
Tabby quivered. That deep, rich voice rolled over her, making her think of wicked things involving dark, melted chocolate and lit candles. “No customers allowed in the back room!”
Glory, bless her heart, threw a towel over her face, hiding her hair. “So
rry, you’ll have to wait out front.” Of course, now the towel was soaking up the still-running water. She was going to be drowned by a towel.
“Is everything all right in here?” The man’s voice was pure sin, deep and slightly gravelly. “Why is her head covered in a towel?”
“Please. Tabby will…be a while.” She could hear Glory clap her hands and tugged on her shirt, desperate to have the water turned off. She was spitting water back out onto the already-soaked towel. “Why don’t you hit one of the diners in the area for lunch? Maybe do a little shopping? Um, oh! Frank’s Diner has the best burgers in town!” Finally, someone turned the faucet off, saving her from a watery grave. She could just see the obituary. Woman Drowns In Towel With Horrible Hair. Film at Eleven.
There was a deep, happy sigh. “All right, if…Tabby, was it?…will be more comfortable.”
He sounded like he was choking back a laugh when he said her name. Tabby snarled, knowing he’d hear it even if he couldn’t see it.
Mr. Melted Chocolate coughed. “When can I return?”
“Uh…” Glory was obviously at a loss. Cyn was the one who usually took care of Tabby’s hair.
“Try around seven.” Cyn sounded amused, the bitch. “You can take her out to dinner. In fact, Tabby has the rest of the night off.”
I do?
“But she has to be back at work by two tomorrow afternoon. Oh, and the lady loves steak.” Tabby groaned behind her towel. That’s an understatement. “Glory, see to it he has our address, okay?”
“But—”
“Trust me, just do it.”
“Okay, boss.” The curtain swished, but the scent of Bear remained. Glory must have stepped through the curtain.
“Ladies, it was a pleasure meeting you.” The curtain swished again. The Bear was gone.
“Oh, honey. You are so screwed. Literally.”
Bear Necessities Page 2