by Dannika Dark
“Some of you have been holding back on me because I’m the new girl, and you want me to work a little harder for your attention. I get it; I’ve been around the block. Starting tonight, tip me fairly based on how I serve your table. And by the way, sorry if this ruins anyone’s fantasy, but I’m a wolf. A proud wolf.”
Three tables erupted with cheers, clapping their hands and stamping their feet.
Clearly wolves.
Denver laughed and wiped down the bar. “Now you’ve done it.”
“Well, maybe they’ll tip me better and it’ll make up for some of the cheap-ass snakes.”
“You have lost your mind,” Rosie said with a roll of her eyes. “Jake is going to have a hissy fit.”
An entire table of men by the jukebox collected their drinks and moved to my section.
“Look what you’ve done!” Rosie said, pointing at my new customers. “Now you’re going to end up with all the alphas, and the girls are not going to like this. Some of their biggest tippers are the Packmasters.”
“Rosie, it’s a Shifter bar called Howlers. Maybe you should drop some of the deadweight on the floor and hire a few wolves. Sixty percent of our customers are wolves.”
“Incoming,” Denver blurted out.
I heard a few girls making sexual sounds, and I got an eyeful when I looked toward the front. Jericho Sexton Cole swaggered in wearing jeans, a leather belt with silver studs, no shirt, and a black blazer. He had on a pair of black sunglasses, even though it was after dark.
“He is so working it,” I said with a laugh, watching a sliver of a smile touch his mouth.
Jericho and I hadn’t kissed since that morning in his room. He wanted to give me space to get my head together. We’d slowly begun rebuilding our friendship, and I realized that without that solid bond we shared, we’d never be able to make anything serious work between us.
“Does he have a show tonight?” Rosie wondered aloud. “I don’t have him on my calendar.”
Denver handed me a tray of shots. “Here, Izzy. Your new friends ordered these.”
A familiar blonde slinked up to Jericho’s side, so I blew it off and carried drinks over to my table. I didn’t own the man, and I wasn’t about to start acting like an insecure lunatic. I set the glasses in front of the men and caught a few stares. They certainly didn’t like the looks of my wrists.
“You got a pack?” the more distinguished one asked. He wore a flannel shirt, and I’d never been a fan of flannel. He was the spitting image of Sean Connery. Minus the sexy accent and the sparkle in his eye.
“I’m currently staying with one,” I said.
“That doesn’t answer my question.”
“She has a pack.” Jericho appeared on my right and stood close. “How’s it going, Turner?”
“Not bad,” the man replied. “Just got a few boys here who think Izzy is the kind of girl they’d like to know a little better. Respectfully, of course.”
“Of course. If she’s interested in them, she’ll let you know. Until then, no recruiting. Comprende?”
“I got it,” he said with a laugh that dissipated into a wheeze. “You’re a funny one, Jericho. A little protective for someone who’s had about every woman in this room.” Turner sipped his drink slowly, his eyes still on Jericho.
“Will that complete your order?” I said in a clipped tone. “Because I don’t serve anyone who insults my friends. You can stay in my section and play by my rules, or you can mosey on over to Trina’s section and fantasize all you want that she’s a wolf when everyone knows she has hooves.”
Jericho rocked with laughter and wrapped his arm around me, guiding me away. “That’s enough, Isabelle. You don’t have to jump to my defense.”
“You’re my best friend, and nobody demeans my friends like that. Especially someone who’s paying me.”
We kept meandering toward the door, and then he leaned in close. “I’m used to it. Doesn’t matter what they think anymore; I know what I’m all about.”
A sharp whistle pierced the air, and we turned to see Denver leaning over the bar with two fingers in his mouth. “She’s still on her shift! You can’t just walk out,” he said, holding out his arms.
“Tell Jake I’ll do an extra show,” Jericho yelled back, and that was that.
“Where are we going?” I asked.
“Someplace.”
“That sounds interesting. Hmm. The North Pole?”
“Nah. My nipples would freeze.”
I stumbled on my shoe and Jericho held me steady as we walked across the parking lot.
“Outer space? I’ve always wanted to go there,” I said, completely deadpan.
“Nah. The spacesuit would kill my image.”
“Disneyland!”
“Isabelle.” He scolded me with a tight squeeze. “You know I have an issue with people who wear giant costumes of animals.”
“They freak you out.”
“They do not freak me out. It’s just creepy as hell.” He opened the door to the blue truck and helped me in.
“Admit it, Jericho. Mickey Mouse makes you wet your bed.”
He snorted and slammed the door, walking around the front.
“You’re going to like this,” he promised, starting up the engine.
As we merged into traffic, I was underwhelmed by my attire. “I hope wherever we’re going, they’re not going to give me the stink eye because of my outfit. Do I need to change?”
In the dark cab, Jericho put his glasses on the dash and gave me a quiet look, softening his voice. “No, baby, you look good.”
I hid my smile and looked away. Jericho didn’t say it often, and I didn’t know if it was intentional. It’s when he called me baby. Not babe in that arrogant way some men do. The way he said baby felt intimate. The only words I’d ever heard Jericho call women were sugar and honey.
Never baby.
All those years apart allowed me to get to know him all over again. Jericho was still the badass rock star with the sexy moves, sultry voice, and sinful body. But last night he’d lifted me off the sofa and carried me to bed after I’d fallen asleep reading one of April’s books. I’d pretended to be asleep because I didn’t want him to put me down. It was such a silly thing for me to do, but Jericho gave me butterflies whenever he did the unexpected romantic stuff.
“How are you feeling tonight?” he asked.
I watched the taillights on the car in front of us brighten. “Fine.”
Then I felt him staring at me. “Isabelle, you haven’t talked to anyone about what happened to you. It’s not going to just go away.”
“It’s done with. What do you want me to do?”
“Feel?”
The light turned green, and he slowly pushed on the gas pedal.
“Feel what?”
“Something. Maybe I need to see you cry, and I never thought I’d say something like that, but it makes me nervous that you’re not making a big deal out of it.”
I gazed somberly out the window and knew what he meant. Sometimes people bottled up their emotions and allowed the contents to change them. Maybe he was afraid I’d run out on him again.
“Isabelle, stop thinking and talk to me.”
I sighed in frustration. “I don’t want to feel it again. Once was enough.”
He breathed in deeply and put his hand on top of mine. “I’ll let it slide tonight, but we’re going to talk about it someday. If I have to get you rip-roaring drunk, we’re talking.”
I snorted. “I don’t get drunk.”
“No, you get tipsy and dance.”
“Now you’re just making things up.”
Jericho turned his head slowly and arched his eyebrow. “Oh? What exactly were you doing in that bistro? You remember the one. We swung by there after hitting four bars.”
“For your information, it was three bars, and I was just along for the ride. The bistro served amazing sandwiches and I was merely showing a physical display of my gratitude.”
�
��Dancing.”
“I’m going to disagree for five hundred, Alex. I was… moving in an exuberant manner.”
Jericho chuckled and turned the corner. “You were shaking your butt, snapping your fingers, and singing a song about what was in your sandwich.”
“I don’t recollect that part.”
Jericho began singing in a raspy voice:
I got a ham and cheese,
and it’s good to me.
Because it satisfies all my needs,
all my needs. It’s pa-nini, pa-nini.
“Oh hell’s bells,” I said, bursting with laughter. “Please tell me you’re kidding.” I could hardly control my laugh, and I bent forward, holding on to the dash. Jericho kept singing and really belted out the last two words. “Stop it! You’re making my stomach hurt,” I begged, clutching my belly and leaning back in my seat. Once he quieted, I wiped the tears from the corner of my eyes and he patted my leg.
“It’s good to hear you laugh,” he said in a low voice, as if talking to himself.
When I stole a glance, he didn’t look away. Jericho’s eyes were luminous, even in the dark cab of the pickup truck. I wondered if we were going to a concert. He didn’t have on his usual charcoal liner below his eyes, so I didn’t think so.
“We’re here,” he said. The brakes squealed to a stop and I leaned forward.
A nostalgic smile touched my lips as he got out of the truck and slammed the door. Jericho had brought me to a donut shop. When my door opened, he offered me his hand.
“Come on, Isabelle. My treat.”
I stumbled in my heels as we headed inside.
The store was pristine, and the first thing that caught my eye was the display counter. I threw myself against it and drooled over all the delicious varieties to choose from—so many pretty colors!
“I’d like the one with the chocolate glaze. Jericho, do you want to get something else to split between us?”
“Hell no,” he said, leaning on the counter. “I want a dozen of those chocolate ones and another dozen assorted.”
My back straightened like an arrow. “You didn’t just order all that.”
“I did.”
“You can’t.”
“I can.”
“It’s too much!”
“Someday I’ll buy you something expensive. Maybe it’ll sparkle and look real good on your finger. But right now, I’m buying you a box of donuts just the way you like them. Two cups of cocoa,” he told the guy.
I didn’t hear anything he said after the part about the ring. All I felt was a migration of little butterflies flitting in my stomach and tickling my nerves.
“Grab a seat, baby. I’ll bring them to you.”
I cupped my elbows and walked around him, scoping out the tables and trying to temper the blush that warmed my skin. Each time I felt the heat on my cheeks, it roused a peculiar smile on his face. A smile I’d never seen on him that gave me tingles—the good kind.
The rectangular tables were made of polished wood, and I chose a booth with yellow vinyl seats by the window.
When he appeared with two boxes, I laughed quietly. “I can’t believe we’re eating donuts at night. I haven’t done this in a million years.”
He slid the boxes onto the table and handed me my drink. I took a sip from the steaming cup and watched him flip open the first box, spinning it around to face me.
“Scoot over,” he said. “All the way.”
I slid against the window, and Jericho sat beside me with the other box in front of him.
He eyed the selection in his box. “I haven’t had a donut since I was with you.”
“Are you kidding?”
He picked at a candy-coated one and licked his thumb. “It just brought back too many memories. Plus, midnight donut runs were a me and you thing.”
Good memories, I thought wistfully.
Jericho reached over and removed the lid from my drink. “Dunk away.”
He remembered. I broke off a piece of the chocolate-glazed donut and dipped it in my cocoa. “Did you just come from a show?”
“Nope,” he said with a mouthful.
“Why the outfit?”
“We’re going to one,” he mumbled. I almost didn’t understand him because he’d shoved an entire jelly donut into his mouth. The jelly dripped down his chin, and he tried to lick it up with his tongue but couldn’t reach it. I really needed to stop staring.
“Maybe you shouldn’t eat all these. You might pass out on the stage in a sugar-induced coma.”
“They’re not all for me.” He lifted his right arm and waved at three guys who had just walked in. “I want you to meet some people, Isabelle. You’ve already met my family, but this is my second family—my band.”
Jericho stood up and greeted his friends, clasping hands and bumping shoulders.
“Isabelle, this is my drummer, Joker. Once he opens his mouth and puts his foot in it, you’ll know why.”
Joker had a sweet face and a slight overbite. He reminded me a little of a young Robert Plant. He scooted in front of me while Jericho patted the shoulder of a man wearing a leather jacket and sunglasses. His inky hair was spiked, and he had three lip rings. You couldn’t tell how old a Shifter was in years by their looks, but he seemed young—like one of those guys who was trying to be cool but wasn’t quite there yet.
“This is Ren, my rhythm guitarist who makes me sound good. Ren, have a donut.”
When Ren sat down, he leaned his head against the back of the booth and his jaw hung slack, as if he were half-asleep. “Not hungry.”
“And I’m Chaz, honey. Bass player and the reason this band sells tickets,” the last guy said. Chaz was a gaunt man with hollow cheeks and acne scars. He tried to hide it with a black goatee that was scruffy and too long.
Jericho sat beside me and whispered, “Soon-to-be-fired bass player.”
Chaz dragged a chair from a nearby table and sat at the end of the booth. When he reached for my box, Jericho seized his wrist and knocked it away. “No one touches Isabelle’s donuts.”
“No problem, sweetie,” Chaz said, giving me a wink. “Just let me know when you want me to finger your hole.”
I dunked my donut in my cocoa and let it soak up a little of the drink. “Sure thing. Just let me know when you get your thumb out of your ass and have a free hand.”
Joker howled and rapped his hands on the table in a rhythmic flow. “I love her already. So you’re the infamous Izzy Monroe. I’ve been wanting to meet the girl our band was named after.”
“How many times have you changed names?”
“More than we’ve changed underwear,” he said.
Ren chortled. “Speak for yourself.”
“You want one?” I slid my box in Joker’s direction. Chaz shot me an irritated glare.
“Nah. I’m diabetic.”
“Sorry. Didn’t mean to wave it in front of your face.”
“You’re cool. I’m not big on all that anyway. My weakness is ice cream. I can eat tubs and tubs of that shit.”
“And he has,” Ren added without so much as lifting his head from his napping position.
I finished off my first donut and looked between them. “You guys have a show tonight?”
“Big one,” Joker said. “Not just Shifters, but it’s going to be a mixed bag. They’re organizing an outdoor event on five hundred acres of territory some rich asshole owns. Campers are bringing their RVs and tents. It’s supposed to go on for three days.”
“Breedstock,” Ren said with a snort.
“How come I haven’t heard of this?”
Jericho sipped his cocoa and began working on his third donut. “They have to keep it hush because of the limited space on the grounds. I don’t think anyone got a human permit for this, so it should be interesting.”
Joker fiddled with the napkin dispenser. “I heard Vamps paid a visit to the folks who live near the lake and charmed them away on vacation. I don’t see how there could be a problem.
”
Ren reached over and snatched a glazed donut, cramming the entire thing into his mouth.
“Dare you to eat the whole box,” Joker said.
Jericho leaned in privately. “I packed you a bag. I thought it would be fun to stay for the night and get away from the house. If you want to stay longer, we can do that too.”
“You do realize you just made me into a target for mosquitoes after eating all these donuts?”
“Did anyone find out if we can shift?” Chaz asked, shoving half a donut into his mouth before spitting it out on the table.
“It’s restricted from what I heard,” Jericho said. “I wouldn’t risk it. We’ll have Vampires, Chitahs, Sensors—you name it. Bound to piss someone off if one of us bites them in the ass.”
“You bringing her?” Chaz asked.
“Her?” Jericho eyed him coldly. “You call her Izzy.”
“Is that what you’re calling your flavor of the week?” he replied, drumming his fingers.
Jericho suddenly snatched Chaz’s beard and yanked his face down to the table. In a swift movement, he pulled out a switchblade and with one clean slice cut off Chaz’s goatee, leaving a mark on the wood surface.
“What the fuck!” Chaz yelled, knocking back his chair and standing up.
Jericho slowly rose to his feet and towered over him by at least five inches. “Here’s what the fuck, Chaz. If you disrespect my woman again, it won’t be your hair I cut off next. Get your junkie ass outside and I’ll be along shortly.” He snapped the knife closed and slipped it into his back pocket.
My heart was pounding as I looked between them. Chaz gave everyone the finger and scowled. “Bad move. I’m walkin’. See how you guys do without a bassist.”
“What the fuck,” Joker hissed. “We need him.”
Jericho sat down and wiped his face. “That’s exactly what he wants us to think so he can keep getting away with shit. You guys know anyone we can call on short notice?”
“News alert. We have one hour,” Ren said, glancing at his watch.
“What about Trevor?” I suggested.
Trevor lived with the Weston pack. He and April were best friends, and he seemed like a cool guy. I’d walked by his door a few times and caught him putting together model airplanes, but every so often, he would be strumming his guitar.