Soft Shatter (Wolven Moon Book 1)

by Dany Rae Miller

  I slide in and put the key in the ignition.

  He leans down, eyes burning angrily. “First, everything you do is my fucking business. Second thing, I will find out who attacked you.”

  “Oh, what-the-fuck ever. It was more of a demonstration. Not an attack.” He’s not the only one spitting mad.

  Nash grins. I just blew it.

  Shit. I roll my eyes and start the car. “Entrapment.” I wrinkle my nose at him in pissed off petulance. I shut my door and put the car in gear, leaving him in the parking lot staring after me.

  I’ve got a date to get ready for.

  chapter eight

  NASH AND I slide onto well worn stools at a neighborhood dive bar not too far from the mansion.

  Nash motions to the bartender. “Isaac. Meet my cousin Ben.”

  “Another LaFontaine?” The bartender smiles and shakes my hand.

  “Yep. Nice to meet you, Isaac,” I say.

  “What’ll you have?” He nods.

  “Tommyknocker.”

  “Brown, amber or pilsner?”

  “Pilsner.”

  “Same,” Nash says and swivels to look over the place.

  “This is not a good idea. Date crashing never goes over well with a girl.” I raise an eyebrow at Nash.

  “I don’t give a shit.”

  Isaac sets down a pair of cold ones.

  Nash takes a drink. “I’m not going to sit idly by while some young pup moves in on Shav. Besides, she’s got an ulterior motive. I just don’t know what it is yet.”

  “What makes you so sure?”

  “Experience.”

  The door opens and two young wolves — Natives, saunter in.

  “Bingo.” Nash nods.

  “What?” I don’t get it.

  “They’re Natives. As far as Shav knows, Val took off with a Native.”

  “Ah. So you think this is Shavone on an info shake down.”

  “I’d bet money on it.”

  The pups spot us right away and respectfully avert their eyes.

  “Time to be an alpha.” Nash grabs his beer and follows the Natives to a table in the back — wedged between the pool table and a dart board.

  “Fuck.” I shake my head, slip off the stool and get his back. Isaac shrugs and grins.

  “You waiting for two hot witches?” Nash grumbles at the kids.

  “Yeah.” The clueless one of the pair smiles. “They here?” The kid looks around.

  “Nope. And you’re not going to be here when they do get here.”

  The clueless one leans back and crosses his arms. “Says who?”

  “Says me.” Nash growls.

  “C’mon, Tomas.” The smart one stands and pulls at the other’s sleeve.

  “I ain’t going nowhere. Why let these fucking French fags push you around?”

  At that, Nash yanks the kid up by the shirt collar, throws him toward his friend and the door. “Get the fuck out and don’t come back.”

  The kid really isn’t that bright. Puffing out his chest, his wolf glints through his eyes.

  I hook a thumb at my cousin. “This French fag is Nashton LaFontaine. Maybe you’ve heard of him.”

  The smarter of the two is already out the door. This kid, though his eyes widen slightly at Nash’s name, doesn’t back down. If anything, he draws himself taller.

  “I’m Tomas Suave.”

  Fuck. Francisco’s kid brother. Shavone is digging and digging very close to a major player.

  “You want no part of him, Tomas. Report this to Francisco, let him know what Shavone is up to. And, if she contacts you for info about her sister, you say nothing. Got it? Or you’ll answer to the Alliance.”

  The cub narrows his eyes, but puts his wolf away. He grins and shrugs. “No problem. I wasn’t going to tell her anything anyway. I was just hoping for a good fuck.”

  “You lay one finger on her, I’ll kill you.” Nash’s wolf lays just on the surface, ready to burst through.

  The cub snickers.

  Damn it. Really kid? Can you not sense danger?

  “She hasn’t been marked by anyone,” Tomas says.

  I step between him and Nash. “He’s a cub,” I say, facing my cousin. I turn to the kid. “Goodbye, Tomas.”

  With a cocky swagger, he goes. “Don’t think you’ve seen the last of me, motherfucker.” The kid threatens on his way out the door.

  Nash growls.

  “Sit.” I hand him his beer and sip mine. The big guy needs to calm down. Glad I’ve never been this ridiculous over a chick. The thought not even completed in my head, my wolf scents her.

  I don’t need to lay eyes on her. I know. Without turning around, I honestly know who the feminine bouquet belongs to.

  “Holy fuck,” I murmur to Nash, barely able to keep my wolf in check.

  “You just attached, didn’t you?”

  I nod, breathing deep.

  “It better be to Cherie.”

  It’s not. Fuck. The scent gets closer and stronger.

  His gaze flicks over my shoulder. Snarling at me, he stands.

  “What are you doing here?” An angry female voice addresses Nash.

  “Hi, Shav. My cousin and I are just having a beer,” Nash says.

  Getting to my feet, I brace myself for what I’m sure is going to be the biggest snag of my life.

  When I turn, one-of-a-kind gray eyes meet mine and I’m as lost as my wolf, as gaga as Nash. Fuck me.

  Strawberry blonde hair falls past elegant shoulders and curls, in homage, around a perfect chest. She’s wearing one of those lace dresses that I’m never sure if it’s skin or fabric I’m seeing through the holes. And it’s short. She’s short. Even in heels, the top of her head barely reaches my nose.

  Hands on her hips, the platinum blonde girl with Shavone addresses Nash. “You ran off our dates, didn’t you?”

  Tipping his beer in her direction, he nods slightly.

  The girls exchange a look and eye rolls.

  “Hi, Ben.” The beautiful witch smiles at me. “It’s been a long time.”

  “Uh, huh.” Okay, fuck, wolf, allow some blood to my brain so I don’t sound like a complete idiot.

  “How have you been?” Fluttering those mesmerizing eyes, her pupils dilate slightly. She’s attracted to me, too.

  Yes!

  “I’ve been good.”

  I’ve got to touch her. Time for a hug. Nash narrows his eyes at me. I wrap my arms around her and draw her close. Her arms around my neck, I nuzzle her throat and inhale. My god — her scent. My eyes roll back in my head. I’ve attached to two other females in my life. It was never this intense.

  My mouth close to her ear, I murmur, “How are you, Shavone?” I love the way her name rolls off my tongue.

  “I could be better.” Her voice dips slightly.

  I feel her grief to the bone. In that second, I understand how hard it’s been for Nash to lie to her. All I want to do is relieve her worry — tell her that Val’s a bitch, but safe and fine.

  My cousin locks eyes with me.

  Yeah, dude, I get it now.

  I keep an arm around Shavone’s shoulders not letting her pull completely out of my arms. What pisses Nash off more is that Shav keeps her arm around my waist.

  Nash shoves his way between us, turns me toward the other blonde.

  “Cherie, you remember Ben, don’t you? My cousin from Texas.” Nash practically links our hands. “Ben, Cherie grew up in the Springs, too.”

  “Of course. You taught us how to build a teepee around our circle,” she says with a grin.

  “Yeah.” I try to keep my eyes on the girl I vaguely remember, but it ain’t happening.

  Unfortunately, Shavone keeps glancing toward the door, plotting an exit. That ain’t happening, either.

  “Can I get you ladies a drink?” I’m looking at Shavone, but mean both girls.

  “I’m okay with that. S?” Cherie looks in Shavone’s direction.

  Though my brain’s a bit foggy, I
don’t miss the communication between the girls.

  “Um, I guess that’d be alright.” She doesn’t sound too enthused.

  Cherie leans into her and smirks.

  “Is there a problem?” I ask.

  “No.” My wolf’s newest passion shrugs her shoulders. “Just not the evening I was expecting.” She looks directly at Nash.

  “What would you like to drink, baby?” He grins, antagonizing her more. No wonder the big guy isn’t getting anywhere with her.

  “Citrus sangria, please.”

  “That sounds good,” Cherie says. “Better add a double shot of Grand Marnier so we’ll be too drunk to hex your brawny ass.” She frowns at Nash. The pretty sidekick doesn’t like him.

  The girl and Shavone both cast surges of innocence too strong to mistake. Suave’s a fool. He wasn’t getting laid tonight. Shavone isn’t that kind of girl. I can almost see the strings floating around her just waiting to tie up a hapless man. Sensing half of what I am right now, the guy would not only stand there and take it, he’d help tie unbreakable knots.

  “Maybe I should run home and change.” Shav actually takes a step toward the door.

  “Why’s that, kitten? You look beautiful.” I grip her elbow and take a tiny step to my left to block her way to the exit. She’s not going anywhere — unless it’s home to bed with me.

  A sweet blush stains her cheeks. Fuck. One of those strings just wrapped itself around my wrist.

  “Because,” Cherie says. “We got dolled up for our dates who apparently don’t have enough backbone to stand up to LaFontaines.” The girl kicks off her heels.

  “This isn’t your usual wardrobe?” I smirk at Shavone.

  She laughs. What a sweet sound. “No. My usual is much more casual.” She waves at her body. “Enjoy it because you won’t see this often.”

  “Oh, I’m enjoying it alright.” I let my eyes appreciate every inch of her. “I bet you rock casual just as well.” I tease Shavone getting a frown from Nash.

  And naked. Bet you rock naked extremely well.

  For a moment, the music cuts through the din of voices in the bar. The Flaming Lips telling us that everything is a big mystery. It is, isn’t it?

  Shavone smiles at me, again. I’d do just about anything to see that sweet sight again and again.

  “You getting those drinks, Nash?” I say.

  His lip curls a bit, but he heads to the bar.

  “Sit.” The table we’re at is half booth. Cherie pulls out a chair. Shavone opts to slide into the bench side. Perfect. I slide in next to her and trap her against the wall.

  “Are you a detective, like Nash?” Cherie asks me.

  “No.” I smirk. “I’m in the entertainment industry.”

  “Like a talent agent or something?”

  “No.” I’d rather not elaborate right now. Shavone’s innocence seems pretty straight-laced. Last thing I want is to alienate her right off the bat with what I do for work.

  “What does that mean?” Cherie persists.

  Nash returns with the drinks.

  “Ben is a business man. He and his brother just bought a local night club.”

  “Oh?” Shavone tilts her head. “Which one?” She pulls a maraschino cherry off a plastic sword that came with her drink.

  “The Kitten Club.” Nash smirks.

  I grimace, vowing to get even with him at the first opportunity.

  “The strip joint?” Cherie wrinkles her nose.

  Shavone, on the other hand, seems interested.

  “He calls it a gentlemen’s club.” Nash volunteers.

  Shut up, Nash.

  “Pfft.” Cherie rolls her lips. “And strippers are ladies.”

  I purse my lips, liking the girl less by the second.

  “Don’t judge, C.” Shavone smiles. “Men objectify women. Some girls simply take advantage of that unfortunate fact to earn a living.”

  “I guess.” Cherie shrugs.

  “Sure. Stripping is pretty benign if you ask me.” Shavone puts the cherry in her mouth and tugs at the stem. Fuck. Fuck. And fuck. My dick wants to be that cherry.

  “I pegged you for a wine drinker,” I say.

  She bumps her shoulder to mine. “This is wine — kicked up a notch.”

  “And damn good wine.” Cherie raises her glass. “Cheers.”

  “What are we toasting?” Nash asks.

  “To two months of freedom.”

  “Here. Here.” Shavone leans in to clink glasses, her hair brushing my arm.

  The softness stirs my wolf. I hold my breath and count to five.

  “Are you going to jail in two months?” I grin at her.

  “In a manner of speaking.” Shavone returns my smile. “Classes start then.”

  “What are you studying?” I ask the girls.

  Cherie answers. “I’m in Tourism Management at CU-Boulder.”

  “But she’ll be in Santa Fe for an internship this fall,” Shavone says sadly.

  “I’m still holding out hope for the Avalon Hotel.”

  “What about you?” I turn to Shavone.

  “I’m a psych major at DU right across the street.” She points southeast.

  I groan. “You’re a shrink?”

  Grinning, Shavone shakes her head. “Not yet. I’m in my senior year of undergrad. There’s a long way to go before I’m officially a doctor.”

  “Hah. Don’t let her fool you. She constantly analyzes everyone.” Cherie accuses her.

  “Aw. I do not.”

  “Oh, yes you do.” Nash sips his beer.

  Shavone pouts, pushing out her sexy bottom lip, and smiles.

  “What part of Texas are you from, Ben?” Cherie asks.

  “Hmmm?” I murmur, watching Shavone’s luscious lips wrap around the straw and suck.

  “What. Part. Of. Texas.” Cherie enunciates like I’m an imbecile.

  “Houston.”

  Shavone’s head swivels to look my way. “I thought you lived in Austin?”

  “I did — for awhile.” Our eyes lock and there’s no question that the gears in her mind just put two and two together.

  Nash catches my eye and pinches his bottom lip between forefinger and thumb. It’s our signal to shut the fuck up.

  Cherie looks from Shavone back to me. “I never would’ve guessed you were a purveyor of sleaze.”

  A what?

  She points to my arms. “Those biceps definitely say Navy SEAL not club owner.”

  Shavone throws me a flirty look. “Hmmm. They do look powerful.”

  They are, kitten. I’ve got another muscle that’s even harder for you.

  “I work out.” Flexing my arm like a strong man, I smile at Shavone. She laughs and wraps her mouth around the straw to suck, again.

  Fuck me, again.

  “Your arms are looking good, too, Shav.” Cherie points with her straw.

  “Thanks.” Shavone flexes her arm.

  “Impressive,” I tease, pressing her small but firm bicep, the skin the softest thing I’ve ever touched.

  “Oh, sure.” She laughs and smiles sweetly at Nash. “I have Nash to thank. He’s my personal trainer.”

  Grinning at her, he puts up his dukes. She balls up her tiny hands to fist bump him. What a fucking idiot. If Nash can’t see that she cares for him, a lot, the man is blind.

  “Oh, look. The pool table is free.” Cherie points at Shavone and me. “You two should play.”

  “Would you like to?” I ask Shav.

  “Yes.” She smiles.

  chapter nine

  BEN STEPS OUT of the booth. I suppress a smile and accept his proffered hand to help me scoot out, the touch firm but tender, as though he’s afraid he’ll break me.

  Thank you, C.

  Houston and Val. Houston and Ben. Did he see her there?

  Hot. Ben is hot in every sense of the word. The man is a veritable space heater. Like Nash — like all wolves, Ben radiates tremendous energy. And then there’s the unmistakable sexual energy.
The looks he’s been giving me and the gaze over my body right now leaves no doubt he wants me.

  “Have fun,” Cherie smiles.

  Though he smiles in response, Ben’s gaze never leaves me. I have all of his attention. It’s intense, unnerving and extremely arousing. His hand wrapped around mine, the smile brightens to a thousand watts as though he knows what I’m thinking.

  Keeping my hand, Ben’s forearms ripple as he leads me to the pool table. Strands of auburn streak his collar length chestnut hair. Up close, his hazel eyes lean toward green — at least in this bar light. Disturbingly, they seem to see right into me.

  That’s okay. I’m not hiding anything. Looking for Valerie isn’t a crime. Flirting with Ben isn’t a crime. Well, to anyone except Nash it’s not a crime. His glare flicks between me and Ben.

  Too bad. I’m going to flirt my ass off — just with Ben instead of Tomas. That Nash chased off the Native alpha-to-be may work in my favor after all. I just have to find the right time to ask Ben about Val.

  I choose my favorite cue and chalk it while Ben racks the balls. “Flip to break?” I ask.

  “Please.” He motions to the table. “Ladies first.”

  Ben leans against the brick wall behind me.

  I know his eyes are on my legs and my behind as I bend over to line up the cue ball. A more skilled seductress, I realize, would wiggle her rear. Holding my breath at the brazenness of it, I wiggle just slightly. The low hiss I get in return is completely disquieting. One wiggle is enough.

  Shit. I’m distracted knowing he’s checking me out. I swear I can feel exactly where his eyes are on me at any given moment. The disturbing feeling causes me to flake on the break. Still, a solid ball manages to go in the top left pocket.

  “Well, that was sloppy,” I say.

  “Sloppy works,” he murmurs. “As long as it goes in.”

  Oh, boy. Innuendo. I laugh to break the tension. “Was that a euphemism, Ben?”

  Grinning, he winks at me.

  Re-chalking my cue, I walk around the table to discern what my next shot should be. I could break up the mass, or move another solid ball to a better spot on the table. I decide to carefully break up the mass.

  I tap the cue ball lightly. The mass scatters, but nothing goes in this time. So I move away and turn the table over to Ben. He doesn’t move. He rakes his eyes across my body and then holds my gaze. With tiny, minute movements, he shakes his head and, mouth in a slight O shape, he blows out a breath.