How is it possible? What happened to the spell?
“Enrique,” my brother hisses. “Go.”
It’s too late to escape. I feel, and smell, Shavone behind me.
“Mr. Cruz.”
Steeling my heart and keeping a tight hold on the angry beast, I spin the stool from facing the bar to facing the little witch. She correctly gauges my wrath and steps back.
“You’re too early,” I say, careful to control the volume and tone of my voice.
“Oh.” She frowns, confused, her eyes dart between mine. “I came in early to do makeup. I assumed I had to be ready to work at four, but I can wait in my car.”
“That isn’t necessary,” I growl, attempting to squash the burning jealousy.
“Hi, Sara.” Antonio, using her Dollhouse name, draws her attention away from me. “Welcome to your first night.”
“Thank you,” she murmurs.
Antonio babbles some encouraging words while she nods and converses with him.
My wolf identifies the male odor on her skin as belonging to LaFontaine.
I’m going rip him to shreds.
Never mind that he somehow got around a spell crafted by a powerful family ally. The detective took advantage of his official protector status while my wolf remains sidelined by the Alliance. It boils my wolven blood violently, muscles coil ready to shift. I use every ounce of control I have to contain my beast.
You are mine, the wolf bursts into my eyes.
Shavone chooses that moment to return her gaze to me. With a sharp inhale, her eyes widen.
Antonio bugs his eyes out at me. “Have you ever tended bar?” He attempts to draw her attention back to him, but her gaze is locked on my angry wolf.
I force him back, fight to get him into his cage and lock the door. Am I an alpha or an omega? The animal shreds my insides.
“Hello?” Antonio waves his hand in front of the witch’s face.
Shaking her head and turning it toward my brother, her pink lips part to speak. Before she can, the night shift manager joins us.
“Is this our newest doll?”
“Yes,” I say. “Tanya, Sara. She’s sharing a dressing room with Paulina who is also her trainer.”
Shavone offers a hand to shake. The movement sends more French stink up my nostrils.
Hands in fists, I stand. “I have personally selected several costumes for you, Sara. Choose one of them to wear tonight.” It is not a request. “And put on some damn perfume.”
“This way, Sara.” Tanya turns.
The little witch blinks at me a few times before following the manager across the lounge. No surprise that practically every pair of eyes follow. Shavone in jeans is more enticing than the naked woman writhing on stage.
Just as she goes through the curtain, Shavone glances back at me, head tilted, brow creased.
“You haven’t been a monk either.” Antonio slings a towel over his shoulder.
“What the fuck does that mean?” Restraining the wolf burns my eyes.
“Don’t expect a healthy young woman to be a nun.” He puts a glass under the tap and draws a beer.
My beast snarls.
“Go punch something and cool off.”
I flip him off on my way to the door.
Outside, the fence behind the Dollhouse takes my wrath.
I recall the last time I found Shavone with another — the night I discovered her and Monbeau. The bastard heard my growl, smirked at me, taunted me as he fondled between her legs.
“No, Enrique!” Only Agustin tackling me mid-charge prevented me from ripping Monbeau’s dick off at that moment. Uncle had followed me, apparently had done so since the first of my visits to check on my witch.
The noise of our scuffle alerted French sentinels. Uncle, with his superior speed and strength, got us out of the canyon before they arrived. Once on our own territory, Uncle cuffed me to a granite wall.
“Enrique, the Monbeau clan has an impressive record. They’ve not lost a creole witch in the past 100 years,” he had said.
“Because of his heritage, I should let him fuck her?!” I pulled at the chains, altering between human and wolf so quickly my muscles ached as badly as my heart.
“Yes. If her well-being is a priority to you. Is it?”
The beast in me roared, torn by the damned-if-I-do, damned-if-I-don’t options.
“With him by Shavone’s side day in and day out, you’re assured of her protection. The Alliance chose him for a reason.”
“What if she mates with him?” I had gritted out between my teeth as my beast once again twisted my bones.
Days later uncle returned with a family friend, a witch. I lay on the ground, naked and limp from shifting uncontrollably.
“Help him, Kennedy,” he begged her.
She performed a spell relieving my wolf of his jealous agony.
As it were, uncle’s faith in Monbeau was well placed. The punk saved her — rescuing her from the fire. I was on the other side of the state, called to Durango by my sister for an emergency that wasn’t as dire as she had made it sound.
Had Monbeau not been in Colorado Springs with Shavone, she would have perished, the thought more unbearable than my own death. For that, the French wolf reluctantly earned my gratitude.
Nevertheless, upon his death, I went to the Alliance, pleading for the assignment as Shavone’s protector. They refused, bringing LaFontaine back into her life even though the bastard had abandoned her once before.
I threatened to challenge him, was on my way to do so. Kennedy convinced me otherwise. She used witchcraft to limit Shavone’s sex drive.
“It’s better than a wolf war,” Kennedy had said. “And drawing attention to a Soft witch.”
The fence in ruins, I call Kennedy now. “What happened to your spell?”
“You’ll have to be more specific, Enrique.”
“Shavone let LaFontaine fuck her.”
“What?” Kennedy gasps. “I bound your touch as the terminus. Either she discovered the hex and removed it or” —
When I interviewed her. “You didn’t tell me I couldn’t touch her.”
Kennedy hisses. “In order to have touched her you needed to have been in contact with her. Which, of course, is completely against Alliance orders.”
The fault is mine. I did this. I released her libido. Now there is only one remedy. I have to make her mine.
“Fuck the Alliance.” I hang up on Kennedy.
Back inside, I head to the bar.
“I’ll work back here tonight.” I want to stay close to Shavone, look for an opportunity to expose my wolf to her — fully the next time.
“Enrique. You haven’t set foot behind the bar since we opened.” Antonio warily watches me turn bottles, checking the inventory.
I ignore the tone in his voice. “We’re getting low on Fourteener.”
“There’s an entire case in the storage room.”
The curtain to the back hall swishes open. Shavone returns as Sara. The dancer on stage, pretty in her own right, doesn’t hold a candle to the confection gliding in the direction of the bar.
Mine.
Shavone has chosen my favorite of the costumes I purchased for her, the pastel pink babydoll. The color suits her perfectly. Completely covering her tits and ass, the piece shows off her back and legs only. That’s all these bastards get to see of her.
Her makeup? Awful.
“What did you do to your face?” I grumble.
Her expression falls.
“All the girls do this kind of makeup, Enrique. You know that.” Antonio, preparing a margarita, comes to Shavone’s defense.
Tray in hand, Tanya hurries to the bar. “Paulina is late, again.” Tanya turns to Shavone. “I’ll have to train you myself.”
“Nope. Here I am.” Paulina appears — in costume and ready to work. The two young girls greet one another. Paulina examines Shavone’s eyes. “You did a great job.”
“Pfff.” I scowl, turning to t
he ice maker.
“First up. Table numbers.” Paulina points out the serving sections to the trainee.
“Wherever this little thing is serving is where I want to sit.” My cousin, Tomas Suave, saunters to the bar, lays an arm around Shavone’s shoulder.
Kill him, my beast roars.
“Tomas.” I snarl. “Touching the dolls is prohibited. You know that.”
“It’s okay. I know this one — personally.” He caresses her head.
My wolf growls under my breath.
Tomas heeds the warning, lifts his hands as though he’s being arrested. “No, problem, Cruz.” He backs away, arrogantly roving his eyes over Shavone as he retreats — further antagonizing my beast.
The little witch eyes me warily. Paulina huddles her head toward Shavone to speak. With a little focused Lycan effort, I easily pick up her whisper.
“What was that about?” Paulina asks.
“Nothing.” My witch smiles at Tomas — flirting with him. The alpha-to-be smiles in return. My wolf’s anger rises to a boil.
“Easy brother,” Antonio murmurs.
“Is that my section?” Shavone asks, indicating the table where Tomas and his friends sit.
“It can be. Listen.” Paulina forces Shavone’s gaze back to her. “Remember what I said about dating customers” — she’s cut off.
“Oh, please. I don’t want to date him. I just want to talk to him.”
Ah. Now I see what my cunning little witch is up to. I smirk, on one hand relieved that she isn’t attracted to him, on the other worried that this hunt for the adoptive sister will lead her to danger.
Talking to a Suave, any Suave, cannot occur. Part of the Native nation and my mother’s maiden pack, the Suaves were assigned to protect the youngest of the Soft daughters.
Whether Tomas realizes who Shavone is isn’t clear. But discretion is safest. Shavone cannot get close to him under any circumstance.
Antonio raises an eyebrow at me.
“I’ll take care of it,” I murmur, already striding toward my cousin.
“You must leave.” I lift the young wolf by the collar. “Now.”
The cocky cub throws off my hand and scowls. “Why?”
I lean in, allowing my wolf to surface. “Because I said so.”
“Why do you alphas and betas keep me away from that witch?”
“Betas?” Do I have another rival?
“The fucking LaFontaine cousins cock blocked me last week.”
Cousins? I’m rendered speechless. Shavone is in a ménage relationship? That would explain the strong scent lingering on her. Is that what she likes? If so, who would I share her with?
No one. Ever. My beast is adamant.
“Look. As far as I’m concerned, that hot piece of ass” — Tomas winks at Shavone, swaying her hips as she walks to the table — “is on the market.” I fist his shirt and drag him to the door. Once outside, I grip his throat.
“Listen to me. You give Shavone Gentil a wide berth. You go near her and this alpha will pay you a visit.”
“Damn it. She’s not mated!”
My wolf bursts through with fangs and glowing eyes.
Tomas’ eyes widen.
“A wide berth. Do you understand?” I growl.
“Yes, sir.” He wisely cowers.
I release my grip. “Leave.”
Tomas regains a touch of his junior alpha cockiness, but he saunters away with no further lip.
Back inside, I resume my place behind the bar and quickly locate my little witch. There she is, taking an order from a table of appreciative men. I watch her come to the bar — turning heads with each saucy step. She hands Antonio an order slip, avoiding my eyes.
“Where the hell is Paulina?” Tanya says, scanning the floor.
Shavone waves a dismissive hand. “Oh, she had to fix her makeup. I’ve got her tables covered.”
Though the slight nervous tremor in Shavone’s voice is barely discernible, I hear it. Something is wrong.
“Be sure she splits her tips with you.” Tanya lifts a tray of drinks.
“Of course.” Shavone smiles, takes the tray Antonio just filled and is off.
For hours, I watch my heart’s desire flit around the Dollhouse. She’s efficient and flirtatious making her customers happy. She’s friendly — a bit too friendly with Native wolves, lingering at tables with the younger cubs who may or may not know Francisco. I keep a sharp ear on her discussions.
Later in the evening, Shavone slips behind the curtain to the dressing rooms. A few seconds later, Paulina comes out — her eyes darting around guiltily.
At the bar, Tanya pulls Paulina aside. “Sara and I have covered your section for hours. What is going on?”
“Nothing.” Paulina swallows. “I got this.”
“You better.” Tanya makes a beeline for the dressing rooms. In minutes, my beast hearing picks up Tanya’s voice berating Shavone and a child’s cry. A child? Here?
Quickly, I go to see if my hearing is playing tricks on me. The bouncers on either side of the curtain shrug as I enter the hall.
“What the hell were you thinking?” Tanya is aghast.
“It’s just temporary. One night” — Shavone stops speaking as I breach the threshold. She holds a crying baby.
“What the hell?” I’m shocked.
“Shh, Ava. Don’t cry. It’s okay.” The child wails, clutching tightly to Shavone. The girl frowns at me. “I’m sorry. We thought she’d just sleep. But it’s noisier back here than we thought it’d be.”
“It’s my fault, Mr. Cruz.” Paulina pushes past me to take the baby.
“My office. Now.” I spin expecting the women to follow.
Just beyond the dressing rooms at the end of the hall, I hold my office door open and close it once everyone is inside.
I point at Paulina. “Explain this nonsense.”
“My mother has the flu and couldn’t watch Ava tonight.”
“You don’t have a back-up sitter?” Tanya barks.
“Late night sitters aren’t exactly on every corner,” Paulina barks right back.
The women bicker, talking over one another.
“You’re fired,” Tanya says, cutting through it all.
“Wait.” Shavone steps between them. “Fire me. It was my suggestion that Ava hang out in the dressing room.”
This is ridiculous.
“Paulina, go home.” I frown at the baby clinging to her mother.
“Mr. Cruz, I can’t afford” — the waitress is near tears.
“Go.” Shavone hugs her and whispers low. “I’ll cover your tables and give you the tips.”
That Shavone isn’t aware wolves have extraordinary hearing adds to my residual anger. The French have failed her in more ways than I can count.
Tears streaking her makeup, Paulina mouths “thank you” to Shavone, nods at me, scowls at Tanya and leaves with the baby.
“They should both be fired, Mr. Cruz,” Tanya says.
“Leave us,” I tell the manager.
Tanya presses her lips together, narrows her eyes at Shavone.
“I said, leave us. Now.” I snarl.
Once we’re alone, Shavone bats her eyelashes at me. I almost laugh at the blatant attempt at manipulation. Little does she know I’ll give her anything, say anything, do anything — whatever she wants.
“Mr. Cruz,” she says softly.
“Call me Enrique,” I say.
“Oh.” She crunches her brow for a moment. “Enrique.”
My name on her lips for the first time is the most beautiful sound I’ve ever heard.
“Please don’t fire Paige — er — Paulina. She’s a single mother.”
“Men come here to get away from screaming brats,” I bark.
“Maybe they wouldn’t be screaming brats if their fathers weren’t here wasting” — she stops at my raised eyebrow. “Please.” Shavone resorts to begging. “It won’t happen again. I’ll sit for her if necessary.”
�
��You’re willing to give up your job? You’re very soft hearted, Miss Gentil.”
“It’s not a matter of being soft hearted. Without this income, she and Ava could wind up on welfare.”
“She can get another job.”
“It won’t pay as well.” Shavone swallows, her eyes dart away from mine. “Of course, there’s always the Kitten Club.”
“What about it?” I lean on the corner of my desk, cross my arms.
“She and I can work there, because if you fire her, I’ll resign. That would leave you short two waitresses.”
I call her bluff “No. I don’t think you will, quit that is.” She came to the Dollhouse in search of her runaway sister. She won’t abandon that quest.
Shavone sighs and scowls.
“You need to improve your scheming skills.” I smile despite myself.
“I don’t know what you’re talking about.” She rolls her lips inward.
“I don’t really care where Paulina works.”
Shavone’s eyes meet mine. “But you care where I work.”
I nod, moving from the desk to stand in front of her.
“Why?” She murmurs.
I curl a strand of her long hair around my index finger. “You know why.” I allow my wolf to surface in my eyes. “Don’t you, little witch?”
Her breath catches, eyes widen. For long seconds, she doesn’t inhale.
“Breathe, Shavone.”
She gasps in oxygen.
“Again,” I encourage her, just as I did that fateful night.
She swallows another gulp. The movement in her throat taunts my fangs, aching to sink into her flesh.
“It is you,” she whispers.
Caressing her face, I nod. We stare at one another. The last time we did this, we were children, both of us scared to death.
In Shavone’s eyes, I can almost see the flashes of memory flitting through the irises. It was a horrendous night.
I inhale her sweet scent — the one mixed with French wolf. Damn the Alliance. Damn them all.
Burying one hand in her hair, I lightly trace her jaw with my mouth. At the slight touch of lips to lips, I know beyond any doubt that my place is with her. Arousal meets heart meets soul. I live and breathe for this witch. My gums burn. Fangs drop.
Claim my mate.
“Enrique! Where the hell are you.” Antonio’s voice bellows in the hall. The door flies open. He freezes upon seeing us.
Soft Shatter (Wolven Moon Book 1) Page 27