SHADOWS OF A WOLF MOON Book 5: RISE OF THE ARKANSAS WEREWOLVES

by Jodi Vaughn

  His gut told him there were no easy decisions in this matter. He was betting everything on Lucien.

  If Lucien came up with nothing, then they were all as good as dead.

  ***

  Lucien waited in the obscure shadows of a ramshackle house. He couldn’t imagine why Catty would be in this part of town unless she was up to something. Maybe she had a drug habit he hadn't picked up on.

  His brows knit together as he recalled both their meetings. He shook his head. She wasn't on drugs. She didn’t have the usual signs of being a druggie, nor did he smell it on her.

  Her scent.

  He closed his eyes and inhaled a breath. She smelled hot and sweet, like a breeze coming off the ocean in the middle of a scorching summer.

  Her scent was as unique as her sassy mouth. Who would have thought she’d be as strong-willed as Zane?

  He let out a little chuckle as he tried to image what life had been like for her growing up. And what had happened to make her end up here?

  He’d seen the fear in her eyes when she’d thought her parents had sent him to find her. And the flash of disappointment that had followed when he said her parents hadn’t sent him.

  Catty had a wall up. A boundary she kept up between her and the men she danced for. He’d seen it at the club, how she’d placed her mask of sexuality on, and he’d seen it when it slipped.

  She didn’t belong there in the bowels of hell.

  He caught a whiff of marijuana. He jerked his head in the direction of the smoke, and his gaze met a pockmarked-faced druggie.

  “You looking to party?” The guy nodded at his joint before glancing nervously over his shoulder.

  Lucien doubted the cops would even dare venture into this crack-infested neighborhood.

  “No.” He growled and looked back at the house.

  “I got some harder stuff if you want, man.” The guy shoved his hand into his baggy jeans pocket and pulled out a bag of crack. His hand shook as he held it out.

  “Take a hint and fuck off.” He bowed up and took a step toward the guy.

  The guy’s eyes widened and he got the message. He shoved his bag of drugs back in his pocket and took off at a run down the street.

  “Fucking asshole.” Lucien kept his gaze locked on the guy until he disappeared down the alley.

  “What did you expect in this neighborhood?” Catty asked.

  “I could ask you the same question. You don’t strike me as the druggie type.” He turned and faced Catty. She’d managed to sneak up on him. Not good. Not good at all.

  “I’m not.” She glared and crossed her arms over her amazing chest. “And you already knew. Don’t lie. I know you can’t smell drugs on me.”

  “Why are you hanging around this neighborhood? Don’t you know what guys like that do to girls who look like you?” He nearly growled the words as another tweeker walked by and openly eyed Catty.

  “I’m here checking on a friend.” She narrowed her pretty gaze, and he thought for a second flames would spark out of her eyes.

  He stepped closer.

  “Oh yeah? Who is this friend?” He fisted his hands at his sides to keep from grabbing her by the arms. Her insolence grated on him in ways he couldn’t describe. He was here for a reason, a mission. And he sure as hell didn’t have time for her frivolous games.

  “Well, if you must know…” She smiled. “My friend’s name is Go Fuck Yourself.” She gave him the bird, turned on her heel, and marched down the sidewalk.

  The blood pounded between his ears like an ocean wave matching the beat of his heart. Who the hell did she think she was talking to?

  Shoving off the side of the house, he went after her.

  Grabbing her elbow with his hand, he spun her around. “No wonder your family hasn’t come looking for you.”

  Her confidence slid off her face, and for a moment he saw a hurt little girl.

  His stomach lurched and twisted. It was a dick thing to say. He shouldn’t have even gone there. He’d wanted to hurt her, to see a real reaction. But even he hadn’t wanted that reaction.

  He released his hold and softened his voice.

  “Look, I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have said it.” He ran his hand through his hair.

  She shrugged and adjusted the mask of indifference she wore so well. “Even if you didn’t say it, you would still be thinking it. So it’s the same. You think because I’m a stripper I must be a whore and use drugs. To you I’m a nobody. A nobody who has no family.”

  “That’s not fair. And it’s not what I…” He studied the tip of his boot and shoved his hands in his pockets. His chest ached, and he shifted his weight.

  “Stop.” She held up her hand. “Just stop. It doesn’t matter.” She glanced at the house she’d been visiting and nodded. “If you want to know what I was doing here, then look for yourself.”

  He looked up and the front door opened. A petite elderly woman stepped out onto the porch. She had large dark sunglasses and a cane. Lucien knew immediately the woman was blind.

  “Is she a relative?” He really felt like a dick. He was no better than his brother. Instead of violence, Lucien hurt with his words.

  Her face softened. “No. Just someone who was kind to me when I first moved here. I met her in the grocery store one day. Her caretaker was high and trying to steal her money at the cash register and I caught her. Since then I’ve looked after her. She doesn’t get many visitors, so I go check on her.” She shrugged.

  “You help her.” He squeezed his eyes shut and scrubbed his hand down his face.

  “Yeah, well, maybe I do it to even out my karma.” She smirked and walked away. “You know, to cancel out my sins.”

  He forced his feet to move and caught up with her. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean what I said earlier. I don’t know you, so I can’t judge you.”

  She said nothing.

  She was going to make this hard on him. If he wanted information, he was going to have to eat crow.

  He sucked in a deep breath and blew it out. “My karma isn’t looking positive right now. What do you suggest?” He met her gaze.

  The corners of her lips twitched, threatening to break out into a smile. “Perhaps keeping your nose out of my business. That would be a great start.”

  “I wish I could.” He couldn’t. He needed to find the missing Guardians and then find his brother. “Catty, there are things I’ve been sent here to find out. I think you might know something about what I’m looking for.”

  She stopped and stepped into his space. There it was again. The hot tingling sensation that arced between them even though they were not touching. It was hot enough without having her standing so close, but good god, she seemed to make their space explode like a volcano.

  She cocked her head and stared up at him, a hardness to her eyes.

  “Honey, I’m sure there are a lot of females who would do anything you want. But I really don’t know what you're talking about. Maybe that’s why I’m still alive. I try to stay invisible.” She shook her head and stepped back. “Sorry, I’m not your girl.”

  “I think you are.” He dug out his wallet and pulled out some money.

  “If you want me to tell you a lie so you can pay me some money, then go right ahead.” She pressed her full lips into a line of thinly veiled rage.

  “How much?”

  “For what? Look, I told you I don’t have any information.” Her eyes narrowed.

  “How much for a night?”

  Her eyes widened as her mouth dropped. Clamping down her mouth, she curled her hands into fists at her side. “Look asshole, I’m not a whore.”

  “I didn’t say you were.” He looked around as a couple of guys passing by eyed Catty with interest. “And you need to keep your voice down,” he hissed.

  A guy stopped in front of them and nodded at Catty. “If you ain’t gonna take her, I will.” He reached in his pocket and pulled out a twenty-dollar bill. “How much for a blow job, sweetheart?”

  Liqui
d anger filled Lucien’s vision as the guy grabbed Catty’s arm. He swung at the guy, landing a hard blow to his face and knocking him on the ground.

  “Don’t you fucking touch her.” He snatched the guy off the ground by the collar of his stained T-shirt. The man’s eyes rolled back in his head and his head lolled to the side. Lucien punched him in the face again for good measure.

  “Lucien, behind you!” Catty screamed.

  He let go of the guy, who crumpled to the ground. Pain ripped through his shoulder. He spun around. A guy held up a knife covered in his blood. The guy had cut Lucien’s arm.

  Adrenaline pumped through his cells and spilled over. Rage replaced pain. Revenge replaced control.

  He looked up from the wound in his arm and met the guy’s gaze and smiled.

  “Jesus, man. What kind of shit are you on not to feel that?” The guy backed up and stumbled over his own feet as he tried to get away.

  “Lucien, we need to go.” Catty tugged on his arm.

  He dragged his gaze from the asshole who’d stabbed him to the one lying on the ground. They were quickly drawing a crowd as thugs came out of the houses like cockroaches.

  “We need to go,” Catty stated.

  He glanced around. He might be a werewolf, but there were thirty humans who were either drunk or high and they were all carrying guns. Even if he could take them, there was a high chance of Catty getting hurt. He couldn’t chance it. He needed to get her out of here.

  “Come on.” He grabbed her hand and hurried down the nearest alley.

  Chapter Eleven

  “Lucien.” Catty snatched her hand out of his and stopped.

  “What?” He turned and glared.

  “Your T-shirt and jacket are soaked with blood.” She reached out and touched his back. She held up her bloodstained fingers. “You can’t tell it’s blood on your jacket, but you are leaving a blood trail with every step you take.”

  He sucked in a hissing breath as the burning pain begin to register in his cells.

  “Someone will call the cops when they see all this blood. We need to get this bandaged up. Now.” She met his gaze.

  He looked up the street toward his hotel. “My hotel is five blocks from here.”

  She shook her head. “No, it’s too far. My place is closer.” Sighing, she grabbed his hand. “Come on, this way.” She made a left and kept to the inside of the sidewalk. People were beginning to stir and he did notice some stares from some people they passed, but they didn’t say a word.

  By the time they made it to her apartment, his shoulder was pounding like a bitch. He couldn’t tell if the wetness on his shirt was blood or sweat, but he guessed it was a little of both.

  She hurried through the front door of the building. The outside didn’t seem like much, old brick with vines growing along the side. Once he stepped inside the darkened foyer, the décor didn’t get much better.

  “The stairs will be quicker.”

  He didn’t argue.

  They stepped out onto the third floor. The dated wallpaper and dim lighting illuminated the dark, dingy floors. A long time ago the complex was probably stylish and beautiful, but time and lack of upkeep had eaten away at her beauty and dulled her shine. The building was sitting on the edge of the dangerous part of the city, and unless the city council decided to rejuvenate this part of town, it was going to continue to decline into disrepair.

  She dug in her pocket for her key and unlocked the door. She motioned him inside with her hand.

  He stepped in and was surrounded by the soft scent of jasmine. His gaze swept the small space and landed on the candles sitting on the bedside table. The wooden floors creaked under his feet as he walked farther into the small space. It was a loft-style living area with a bed in the middle of the area where a living room should have been.

  “Sit down and let me look at your shoulder.” She nodded toward her bed.

  “It’s fine. Give me some bandages and I’ll do it myself.” No way was he letting her touch him. She’d probably cut his throat first chance she got.

  “Are you always this rude?”

  “I’m not rude.” He was honest. There was a big difference.

  “Sit.” She nodded to the bed. He reluctantly complied. The mattress squeaked under his weight. The ache in arm matched the pain in his shoulder.

  He glanced across the studio, taking in her place. It was a studio apartment with wood floors and brick walls. The bedroom and living room were in the same space, and off to the right was a small kitchen separated by a curtain. A door off the living room led into a small bathroom.

  There were splashes of her personality scattered around the room, which made the small dark space feel less cramped.

  A small writing table, which doubled as a makeup table, sat alongside the wall. Scattered tubes of lipstick and eye shadow were strewn across it along with a laptop computer.

  Her bed had no headboard but was decorated with a ton of pillows in every shade of pink. The comforter matched the pillows.

  He noticed a silky tank top and matching bottoms near his boot. Ignoring the searing pain in his shoulder, he bent and picked up the pink material.

  He inhaled. She’d slept in this last night. Her scent was all over it.

  He slammed his eyes shut as his body stirred with lust and hardened to a point of pain. His hand clutched the bed covering as he fought to get images of Catty’s scantily clad body out of his mind.

  “Here, take this.”

  His eyes popped open. She shoved a glass half full of amber-colored liquid into his hand. A sharp whiff told him it was Jack Daniels. He hated Jack Daniels.

  “It will help with the pain.” She gave him a hard look.

  The adrenaline was leaving his body, and the pain was increasing with every breath. He tossed the glass back and downed the whiskey. He grimaced as the liquid slid down his throat, burning all the way.

  “Not a fan of whiskey?”

  “I prefer beer.”

  “I don’t like it either,” she admitted. “One of my girlfriends left it here the last time she came over. Some guy gave it to her at the club.” She knelt on the bed and set her bandaging supplies beside her. “Take your jacket off.”

  He eyed her for a moment and then reluctantly slid the leather jacket off his shoulders and laid the leather across his lap.

  “This cut isn’t so deep.” She wrapped the white gauze around the wound on his arm and taped it down. When she was done, she grabbed the hem of his shirt.

  He wrapped his fingers around her wrist. “The shirt stays on.”

  “But how can I stop the bleeding on your shoulder with your shirt still on?”

  “Here.” He ripped the sleeve of his T-shirt and shoved it up over his bicep.

  She shook her head but didn’t say anything. Perhaps she’d thought better of trying to argue with him.

  “This one’s deeper. If you were human, you would need stiches.”

  “Good thing I’m a werewolf then.”

  “Yeah, good thing,” she murmured. Her hair brushed the top of his bicep as she worked. His body warmed and tightened. Her scent was all around him, trapping him with invisible fingers— trapping him and refusing to let him go.

  “So is your friend a stripper too?” He nodded toward the bottle of whiskey.

  “She is. You got a problem with strippers?” She held the bandage over his wound and craned her neck over his shoulder to meet his eyes.

  Her scent and the heat from her body felt like lightning from a summer storm. He sucked in a breath, and he could swear he could taste her on his lips.

  “No, I don’t.” He gritted his teeth. She was way too close for his liking. “You take things the wrong way.”

  Her mouth parted and it took all his strength not to move those final three inches closer and press his lips against hers. When he forced his gaze up to her eyes, he realized she’d caught him looking at her mouth.

  “Don’t even think about it.” She glared.

>   “Think about what?” He swallowed.

  “Don’t think about kissing me.” She shot him a look like she could kill. “Kissing you is the last thing I need to be doing.”

  He reacted on instinct before his mind could process what he was doing.

  He cupped his hand around the back of her neck and closed the distance between them. His mouth covered hers, hard and unflinching.

  He swept his tongue inside her mouth, tasting her spicy sweetness. He growled as he deepened the kiss. He wanted to taste her fully so he could get her out of his mind once and for all.

  She pressed her hand against his chest and broke the kiss.

  “Apparently, you don’t listen,” she said breathlessly. “I said, don’t kiss me.” She shoved away and walked into the kitchen.

  What had he done? Body on fire and trembling with lust, he stood and made his way to the window. He needed to look at anything but her.

  He wished he regretted what he’d done. But he didn’t. He wished he had gotten her out of his system. He hadn’t. He wished he didn’t want to kiss her again. But he did.

  He braced his arm above the window and studied the floor.

  He’d lost control.

  A vision of his brother echoed in his head, leaving a bitter taste in his mouth. If he didn’t gain control over his actions, he was going to slip into that same fucking abyss and become what he detested the most.

  His brother.

  He was nothing like his brother.

  He took a deep breath, held it, and counted to ten before he blew it out. He glanced at the traffic below as cars and motorcycles moving at a snail’s pace down the street. Unhurried with no one to see and nothing to do. It was the vibe he got from New Orleans.

  Unlike him. He, on the other hand, had places to go and people to find. He had a mission and it sure as fuck didn’t include trying to get Zane’s sister into bed.

  “Fuck me.” He cradled the wound in his shoulder as the pain returned full force. As a werewolf, he would heal soon enough. It didn’t ache any worse than the ache behind his zipper.

  “I think we established I wasn’t interested.” Her voice trickled over him and he turned.

  Gone was the anger he’d seen in her eyes. In its place was the stalwart, confident barrier she seemed to carry with her like heavy armor.