Impulse sa-5

by Moira Rogers

  Before he could respond she spun away, shimmering as she turned. Magic sang through the trees as she hit the ground on four paws and launched into the woods with a yip that dared him to chase her.

  With Sera on steadier ground this time, the change that swept through him brought with it searing heat he knew would translate into arousal if it didn’t subside by the time he shifted back. She was sweet and a little wild, and distracting enough without his body having memorized the sensation of her bare flesh pressed to his.

  Maybe he was a creeper, after all.

  Julio growled and ran after her.

  Miguel opened another beer—his third—and stifled a yawn as he watched Julio drop his second suitcase in the entryway of his apartment. “Jesus, how long are you going to be gone?”

  “A week, I guess. Maybe more. I don’t know exactly.”

  “You pack like a girl.” Miguel leaned forward and squinted at Patrick, who’d sprawled out in the chair across from his. “He’s not thinking about clock towers and high-powered rifles, at least. Mostly he thinks you packed so much shit because you’re covering up the fact that you’re going to be naked all the time, or you finally figured out you may as well not come back to face Sera’s dad. Who is massively scary, by the way. Have I mentioned that?”

  “A time or two.” Or a hundred, Julio added silently.

  Miguel smirked. “I heard that.”

  Patrick rested his ankle on his knee and spread his arms along the back of the chair, his posture deceptively relaxed. “I’d never take a high-powered rifle to a clock tower. Too cliché.”

  It sounded like diversion to Julio. “What would you take to a clock tower?”

  “A hot chick and a six-pack?”

  “Mm-hmm.” Miguel grinned. “Too bad Anna’s not a big fan of heights.”

  “Fucking tragic,” Patrick drawled before pinning Julio with a look. “Get your brother out of my head. He’s not harmless enough for it to be cute.”

  “You scared the hell out of Alec with your countrywide killing spree,” Julio reminded him. “It’s my pig of a kid brother or something even more invasive. Your choice.”

  Patrick bit off a rude noise. “Don’t see why. That man knows all about countrywide killing sprees. When I was a punk kid getting started, he and his mercs were fucking legend.” He raised one eyebrow. “Which brings us back to how scary Franklin Sinclaire is.”

  A favorite topic, and Julio saw no end in sight. “Guess I’ll have to keep my hands to myself, huh?”

  “Or practice running for your life?” Patrick grinned, but it faded after a moment. “I’m kidding, man. You need a break. If this is the only way you’ll let yourself take one…”

  “I don’t have time,” Julio muttered. “But I’ll make time for this. That bastard has put Sera through enough.”

  Patrick stared at him for a heartbeat, then looked questioningly at Miguel.

  Miguel snorted and finished his beer. “Fuck you, McNamara. I don’t like you enough for low-level recon, much less snooping on my own relatives.”

  “I didn’t want you to snoop, jackass. I wanted you to tell him the truth so I don’t have to.”

  Miguel bristled. Julio saw the punch—an ill-advised moment of anger that would end with a broken nose, no matter how much his kid brother thought he could handle the fight—so he stepped between them. “Out. I need to talk to Patrick.”

  “You’ve got to be kidding me.”

  “I’ll meet you at Mahalia’s.” Julio tilted his head toward the door. “Go.”

  Miguel rose with a grumble. “You should’ve let me hit him.” He slammed the door behind him.

  Patrick flinched. “Sorry. I shouldn’t give him shit.”

  Julio waved away the words. “He’s still testing people, finding his place. You’re a badass bounty hunter, Patrick. That’s a pretty high measuring mark for a pissed-off kid discovering he has a few authority issues.”

  “I don’t want to smash his face in,” Patrick grumbled, shoving a hand through his hair. “He’s still a kid, but that’s not going to save him for long.”

  “I know.” It didn’t help that Miguel had been spending time with Anna—completely platonic time, much to his dismay. And he might have been immature in a lot of ways, but Miguel had never been slow. He knew as well as anyone where Anna’s attentions had already been fixed.

  “You may as well go ahead and give him a fight, though. It’s what he wants.”

  “I’m tired of fighting.” He shrugged and looked away. “Which doesn’t change what I was going to say to you.”

  The truth, right. “Lay it on me.”

  “All right.” Patrick leaned forward and braced his elbows on his knees. “The people in this town need you. But they don’t need you, need you, not most of the time. And if you give them the chance, they’ll use you right the hell up.”

  “I thought you were going to tell me something new.” The words held no mystery for him—in wolf politics, giving a damn wore you out faster than anything else, simply because it was so rare. “Look, Alec has to be in New York for now, and Andrew’s got his hands full hunting down the new wolves who’d fall through the cracks otherwise. That leaves me.”

  “If there was a real problem, something they needed you here to fix, you’d be back as soon as you could hop a flight.” Patrick shook his head. “It’s nice that you’re getting Sera out of town —God knows she needs it—but maybe she’s just the excuse. The reason you’re finally giving yourself permission to not be working every waking moment.”

  “Spit it out, dude, because I’m not entirely sure what you’re getting at.”

  Patrick snorted. “It’s not that you don’t have time. You won’t take it.”

  Julio tensed. “Is that meant as a reassurance that the place won’t fall apart without me, or a roundabout way of telling me I don’t do as much as I think I do?”

  “Shit, Mendoza.” Patrick swept up a pillow and threw it at him. “You do everything that actually needs doing. And then you do everything that people think needs doing. And then you do the things they want done. If you were any more accessible, you’d be mowing their damn yards.”

  Maybe he had been overdoing it, but what else was he supposed to do? He’d spent the majority of his life ignoring what most wolves considered his responsibilities by right of birth.

  “I’m making up for lost time.”

  “Uh-huh. Or maybe your brother’s not the only one trying to prove something.”

  Julio held both hands aloft. “I never said I wasn’t complicated.”

  Patrick sprawled back, relaxed, as if he’d made his point. “Merely a piece of advice, from one workaholic to another.”

  “So what about your vacation?”

  “This is my vacation, man. Maybe I’ll help Anna chase that bastard around for a while. I might even put off everything else for a week or two and…stay in one place.”

  Julio grinned. “You suck at the concept of downtime as much as I do.”

  The man returned his smile. “Or we both just found reasons to chase pretty ladies.”

  “We’re full of shit, aren’t we?”

  “Yep.” Patrick inclined his head toward the suitcases. “We’ll hold down the fort. Get out of here and show that girl a good time.”

  “Yeah, I think I will.”

  Chapter Six

  Julio had borrowed a convertible from someone.

  Sera tossed her duffel bag into the back seat before sliding on her brand-new seven-dollar sunglasses. She was an absolute vision of gas-station fashion, with her braided pigtails covered by a black bandanna and her denim shorts barely visible beneath the hem of her too-long Saints jersey.

  Not exactly the low-cut tops and too-short skirts she’d briefly considered, but it felt wrong to approach Julio in the seductive clothing she used to pick up men she only wanted to fuck.

  Whatever she wanted from him was a damn sight more complicated than sex.

  Too bad sex had become a d
riving urge in the days it had taken to organize the road trip.

  Sera circled the car as Julio rearranged things in the trunk and muttered under his breath. “I need a gas can.”

  “A gas can?” She leaned against the side of the car.

  “Mmm, just in case.”

  “Sounds fair.” She grinned at him. “Always good to have a spare gas can, a shotgun and a roll of duct tape, right?”

  He affected a long-suffering sigh. “Don’t forget the road flares and chainsaw. Who taught you to road trip, anyway?”

  “Obviously a novice.” Pushing up her sunglasses, she glanced in the trunk. “Anything else we need? I packed up some food for the road.”

  He slammed the trunk. “What kind of stuff?”

  “I made brownies and cookies yesterday, and some empanadas at work last night.” She might not have gone for the sexy clothing, but digging up the family recipe Julio’s sister had given her the previous fall might have been equally shameless. “John lets me play in the kitchen when it’s slow.”

  “Empanadas, huh?” Julio flashed her a knowing look as he climbed behind the wheel. “I can’t drive if I’m in a food coma. You’re angling to get your feet on these hot little pedals, aren’t you?”

  Sera settled into the passenger seat. “Maybe. I’d look good driving a convertible.” But not as good as him. His plain white T-shirt hugged his body, flexing with the muscles of his arms and shoulders until she wondered if he was trying to show off.

  “Jackson, unfortunately, would murder me if I let you drive it.”

  That stung. “Hey, I’m a good driver. And he’s married to the New Orleans record holder for most speeding tickets in a year.”

  “Yeah, and he won’t let Mackenzie drive it, either.” Julio patted the dash. “I had to find a suitable replacement and promise I’d buy it if anything happened to his baby.”

  “Fine, fine.” Sera angled her body so she could admire him—subtly. Maybe. “So where are we going?”

  “Don’t know. Do you want to head east or west?”

  She might as well flip a coin. Either sounded perfect, as long as it got her away. “Whichever, so long as we can get lost on tiny back roads. I want the real road-trip experience here.”

  “Stay clear of I-10. Got it.” He turned the key and revved the engine with a grin. “East, I think. We can drive all the way around Florida if you want.”

  “Sounds perfect.” It would take a week or two, if they went slow. A week away from work, from overprotective alpha shifters and well-meaning friends, few of whom had taken this trip in stride.

  Lily she might forgive. Lily’s tense sigh had undoubtedly been at the idea of trying to break the news to Sera’s father. Her boss, on the other hand, had granted her request for time off with a shake of his head and a muttered, Lord help you, girl.

  That had pricked her pride. It would be nice if someone thought Julio was the one in need of help. Someone other than Kat, anyway, who had replied to Sera’s voicemail with a texted apology for being out of cellular contact and a stern command to be gentle with Julio.

  Anna’s advice had been more direct. Fuckin’ A. Ride it like you stole it.

  Everyone in New Orleans seemed convinced she was embarking on the world’s most epic booty-call road trip with a man she hadn’t even managed to kiss yet, and Sera couldn’t tell if it was a reflection of their respective reputations, or if her frustrated tension was just that damn obvious.

  Julio seemed oblivious to it. “Want to pick the music?”

  “Sure.” Leaning forward, she switched on the radio and twisted the old-fashioned FM dial, skimming past static on her way to 95.7. It took a little fiddling before Eric Clapton spilled out of the speakers, long enough for her to come to a decision.

  Sitting back, she glanced at Julio. “You know everyone thinks we’re headed to the nearest motel to fuck ourselves stupid for the next week, right?”

  He threw back his head with a laugh. “My fault, sweetheart. People think I can’t keep my pants on.”

  “Who says I can?” Sera twisted on the seat and grinned at him. “That’s the awesome part about the twenty-first century. Girls get to love sex too.”

  “I’m pretty sure they always have.”

  “Well, obviously. When they got to have said sex, which wasn’t exactly freely, historically speaking.”

  “A damn crying shame, if you ask me.”

  She studied him for a moment, indulging herself for all the time she’d spent fighting not to look at him. The white shirt set off his coloring, all beautiful shades of bronze with chocolate eyes and jet-black hair.

  It made her self-conscious, imagining her too-pale freckled body pressed against him. She had curvy hips and breasts big enough to turn any jackass wearing beer goggles into a drooling moron, but Julio was out of her league. Julio had his own league, one where rich shapeshifters who were damn near royalty married the barely legal daughters of important wolves. Pretty virgins with perfect manners and medieval dowries and closets full of fashionable clothing for hosting important dinner parties.

  Julio Mendoza’s league wasn’t a fan of the twenty-first century, which made her want to shrink back into her seat and bite her tongue.

  He made it to the interstate on-ramp before casting another glance her way. “Want to make any stops or head straight for Florida?”

  “Can we hit a Walmart or something? I need a bathing suit before we get to the beach.”

  “Plenty of time for that.”

  The wind roared around them as the car picked up speed, drowning out the music. It tugged at her braids and the sleeves of her jersey, set her bandanna fluttering against her neck as she tilted her head back. “So now we just…be free?”

  A smile tugged at the corner of his mouth. “Do you remember how?”

  “I never knew how,” she admitted, mostly because the wind stole the words and she could pretend he wouldn’t hear them, even if she knew better. “But I’ll learn.”

  “Sounds like a plan to me.”

  “Do you remember how?”

  “To be free?” Julio signaled and changed lanes. “Who says I ever knew, either?”

  They were quite a pair. A rich wolf born of legacy and a poor coyote born of tragedy. She’d grown up without a mother, and the whole supernatural world knew he’d grown up without a father. At least her mother had been driven mad. Diego Mendoza had walked away from his psychic lover in a cloud of scandal, too cowardly to stay by the woman he supposedly loved and the children she’d given him.

  Maybe Julio hadn’t had any more freedom than Sera had, for all his wealth and status. It made it easier, somehow. More like an adventure.

  She and Julio could learn to be free together.

  Julio opened a refrigerated case and relished the cloud of cold air that rushed out. Late afternoon, and it was still hot as hell outside.

  He grabbed two drinks and walked up the aisle toward the register, pausing to add a few bags of snacks to the pile in his arms. When he reached the sleepy-looking clerk, he dropped everything on the counter and studied a carousel of cheap sunglasses. “Where’s the nearest town? Far?”

  “Not too far. Go down Highway 4 a few more miles and you’ll hit Baker.”

  Julio tossed a couple pairs of the sunglasses on the counter too. “Thanks.”

  “No problem.” The clerk lifted a map off the counter. “Need one?”

  “It’d probably be smarter than relying on my cell phone, huh?”

  The girl stirred enough to smile. “Hey, phones do everything. My dad says maps don’t run out of batteries, though.”

  “Your dad’s right.” He finished paying, took the bag and pushed out into the afternoon sunlight.

  Sera had her head back against the seat, eyes closed and a small smile playing around her lips. She looked peaceful, at ease, as if everything was right with the world.

  Julio slid behind the wheel. “I got you a Coke.”

  “Thanks.” She twisted her head and c
racked her eyes open, and that sweet little smile turned warm, like it was all for him. “Not for the Coke. Thanks for this. Even just getting out of New Orleans…I feel like I can breathe again.”

  If he didn’t do anything else right, at least he could do this. “We’re going to keep you safe.

  Whatever it takes.”

  “Any of them would have kept me safe.” She unbuckled her seatbelt with a soft click and slid across the bench seat until she was tucked against his side with one arm wrapped around him in a half-hug. “You’re keeping me sane.”

  Sane. Exactly what he wasn’t as he cupped the back of her head and tilted her face to his.

  Insane, that was more like it—for a thousand different reasons.

  He kissed her anyway.

  She had soft lips. Soft and warm, and they tasted like the cherry ChapStick she’d tossed into her bag a few miles back. Her hand slapped against his chest, fingers splayed wide, then fisted around his shirt as she moaned, low and hungry.

  He wanted to delve deeper, bite her lip and slide his tongue into her mouth. Instead, he lifted his head and fought to slow his breathing. Sera’s fingernails dug into his chest as she voiced her protest in a snarl of loss and caught his lips again.

  He reacted without thought, tightened his fingers in her hair and pulled her head back. “Sera.”

  She went still. Not just quiet, but utterly still. Even her breathing stopped for one tense moment, and in that moment her power washed over him in a shuddering wave. An alpha’s magic challenged. Hers was sweet and accepting, clinging to him even as her breath escaped on her rushed apology. “I’m sorry—”

  “No, I am.” He stroked his thumb over the shell of her ear. “Not about kissing you. I’m not going to apologize for that. But I shouldn’t have done it here. Now.”

  “I don’t have very good control.” A confession. A tortured whisper. “I’m so freaking tired of fucking humans. I eat them alive.”

  He knew there were human men who could handle fucking shifters—people did it all the time, Mackenzie for one—but Sera seemed caught up on what she wanted versus what she thought she should want. “What you want isn’t so complicated, sweetheart. You’ve just got to let go.”