She gave a pass to Logan, closing his fingers over the pasteboard, and whispered, "You too. My number's on the back."
As we were exiting, backs to Zanna, she whispered to a stagehand, “Damn I didn’t know Mason married Sasquatch.”
“Ouch, Luna. You’re hurting my hand again.”
At the limo, the girls got in first, followed by Logan, then Mason. As I made to enter, rage shot through my heart. I growled and backed out.
"Is something wrong, Luna?" asked Mason.
"I can't get in," I gritted out through extended canines.
Mason and Logan exited the limo and gathered near. Mason reached out a hand to me and I slapped it away.
It was Logan who understood first. "It's the smell of Zanna from that hug. She's all over you."
Mason looked puzzled. "Surely you can tell that I'm not attracted to her?"
"No, but she's attracted to you. She practically went into heat when she saw you," said Logan.
With surprising practicality, Mason said, "Well, we'll walk back to air out. I can send the girls back in the limo. Logan, do you want to go with them or stay with us?"
"I better stay with you. Luna might need me, and my ex won't be happy that the girls were out so late. Better for the limo driver to take the heat."
Logan said his goodbyes, and a few seconds later the limo departed, taking his children home.
We walked up the Strip for a few blocks, toward the hotel. The moon, barely visible against the ever-present glow of the lights on the Strip, was waxing. It would be full in a few days. It was nearing midnight, but the sidewalks were still full of people.
"Anyway, it looks like she's attracted to Logan," said Mason. Then he said, "There's no accounting for taste."
"You trying to insult me so I'll stay away?"
"Oh, hell no! I hope you two will be very happy together. But won't her perfume on you irritate Luna?"
Some things about wolf packs humans will never understand. "No. Logan is free to date whomever he likes. Neither I nor my wolf care about his flings. I'm the alpha, not the chaperon for a high school dance."
"I thought you had a special someone back in Tokyo," said Mason to Logan.
"Kuchisake-onna, the vengeful ghost," I supplied. Mason had not been there the night Logan and she had hooked up.
"The girl with the beautiful smile," said Logan. "There's no problem. We have an agreement. I can date other women, and she can kill other men."
"So, you going to invite Zanna to Tokyo?" Mason joked.
"Oh, no. I'm not going to bring another woman to the home of a razor-blade wielding ghost. Even I'm not stupid enough to rub her nose in it."
Their banter was comforting in a way. Two men who didn't like each other trading insults. I would start to worry if either of them turned silent.
The combination of the heat, the moonlight, and the press of easy prey in the street brought my wolf closer to the surface. Pregnancy made controlling the wolf difficult. Difficult and dangerous to the unborn cubs. Shifting would terminate my pregnancy.
A stranger brushed past Mason, forcing a whiff of Zanna's perfume my way. I made a decision.
"Mason, I have to get out of here."
"Whatever you need to do, Luna." Another man might have argued, but Mason understood that sometimes my nature required unexplained absences.
We stopped in the middle of the crowded sidewalk. I slid out of my heels and set the shoes on the edge of the sidewalk, then placed my purse on top of the shoes. I pulled a pair of flip-flops out of my purse and slid them into the elastic waistband of my skirt. In Tokyo, I could leave my purse and shoes on the sidewalk and come back to find them untouched days later. In Las Vegas, they wouldn't last two minutes. Mason would have to take care of them.
I tugged my skirt up to give my legs more room and a few men stopped to watch. A glare from Logan made them turn away.
I concentrated and the calluses on my feet appeared, pretty much the most I could change without endangering the cubs.
"I need to go on a run to burn off some energy and clear my nose." I turned to Logan. "Runt, I want you to come with me."
Logan frowned, but the "Runt" told him this was a command from his alpha.
"I can come with you," said Mason. "I have no problem keeping up with your human form."
"No. I'm running from you and that smell. I want you to go back and scrub off that stench." Almost as an afterthought, I added, "Burn those clothes."
Mason picked up the shoes and my purse. "I'll wait for you in our room. Try not to take too long." Careful to avoid getting too close, he blew me a kiss, which I returned.
We started trotting at a slow pace, twisting and turning to avoid hitting the pedestrians. The lights of the High Roller Ferris wheel were on our right, which meant Flamingo Road was coming up in a few blocks. There were fewer pedestrians now, allowing me to speed up. My steps were quick and light, almost inaudible. Logan's feet slapped against the pavement loudly, those shoes he insisted on wearing making his steps clumsy. But clumsy or not, his steps matched mine.
Near the intersection, I tilted my head to the left to indicate we were going to turn. I made the ninety-degree turn smoothly; Logan slipped and slid on his shoes, losing time and almost hurtling himself into the traffic.
"Damn it, alpha," he said. Then he redoubled his efforts and started catching up.
Sweet sweat sprang up on my brow, engendered by the heat of the late-night air and the exertion of running. The hot wind of our passage dried the sweat, cooling me down slightly. I had some magical tricks to make this run easier; a cooling spell, an oxygen mask spell to give a shot of oxygen to my lungs, concentrated moonlight from my amulet to augment my physical attributes.
But I couldn't use magic with Logan so close, and using the extra moonlight would be cheating. I wanted to run like I had as a teenager, full out and without any help.
After a mile, the stench of Zanna was gone. It had been replaced by the stench of cars and too many humans, but it still smelled better than that woman. Las Vegas was beautiful, but werewolves prefer solitude or the company of our pack. I kept up the pace, even increasing slightly to keep up with the forty-five-mph speed limit.
11
We stepped through the door of the Denny's, finding it almost empty of customers. We had arrived during the lull between the late dinner crowd and the rush that would happen after the bars closed.
I slipped the sandals on to my feet and noticed how hairy my legs were. Bringing up my werewolf side to help me run faster had caused the hair on my legs to sprout—not inhumanly thick, just like I hadn't shaved in months—and the dust I’d kicked up on the run was sticking to my hairy legs. Too late to reabsorb the hairs; the humans were already staring.
We stopped to sniff, both for food choices and enemies. Our hostess/waitress walked up, a slightly overweight, gray-haired woman with a matronly smile.
She looked at my dirty feet and legs, twisted skirt, rumpled blouse, and windblown hair, then paused. I had been kicked out of places looking better than this. She shot a disapproving glance at Logan, then smiled and escorted us to a booth. She placed our menus on opposite sides of the table, a subtle way of forcing Logan to sit across from me instead of beside me.
"Coffee, please," said Logan.
"Apple juice for me," I said. "We’ll need a few minutes to look over the menu."
I headed to the restroom. When I stepped out of the toilet, the waitress was waiting for me.
"Do you need help, honey?"
"What? No, I'm okay." Then I had to blink back tears. The rough, tough man-killer werewolf was going to cry.
"He looks like a rough customer. But I can get you out the back door and into a cab right away."
"No, he's okay. He's not the problem. He's family."
She handed me a comb with the practicality of a grandmother and said, "Fix your hair."
"Thanks."
"So what are you running from?"
"Running? I h
aven't been…"
One look at my feet, covered in dirt, made my lie plain. I turned to the mirror. I wouldn’t normally unload on a stranger, but she seemed nice.
"I met my husband's ex tonight. She's really pretty."
"You're pretty, too."
"But she's short, buxom, and blond. Maybe that's his type, and I was just an accident. She called me Sasquatch."
She glanced at my hairy legs, then said, "I’m sure she’s just jealous of you. Ignore those insults. Do you think she still wants him?"
"Oh, I'm certain she still has the hots for him. She hugged him."
"That bitch."
I splashed water on my face and dampened my hair to comb out some sweat and dust.
"And does he still have feelings for her?"
"No!"
"You sound certain."
"I am certain." You can't fool a werewolf's nose. "But you know how men are. He could change. He's kind of unworldly."
I re-arranged my skirt and buttoned up my blouse so that I looked almost presentable. I grabbed a paper towel, wet it down, and scrubbed my legs and feet.
"But you're certain he's not attracted to her, so I'm sure it’ll be fine. Just keep him away from her. They don't work together, do they?"
"No, and we'll be leaving Las Vegas soon."
"Well," she said in a ‘that's final, then’ voice, "you have nothing to worry about. Do your best to make sure he forgets that bitch."
I stood and took a deep breath. "Thanks for your advice—and the comb."
She took the comb from my hands, then surprised me by coming in for a hug. I had to blink back tears again. Just when I’d started to hate humans, I had to run into a nice one.
We ordered, two bacon avocado cheeseburgers for me with an extra side of onion rings, and a double cheeseburger for Logan. Light meals for us, as we had stuffed ourselves earlier.
As I ate, an idea came to me. Lots of things came together: the attack on Mason, my new talent at transmutation, the need for more backup cash, and the problem with leaving Logan behind while we went off to fairytale land.
"Logan," I whispered, "I want to rob the casino."
Mason would have been puzzled; theft of mere money was a waste of time for him. Kuga would have been aghast; she was too honest for her own good. A good quality in a bookkeeper, but not for a conspirator. Naomi would have helped, but I didn't like the idea of depending on anyone outside of the pack.
Logan grinned his biggest snaggle-toothed grin and rubbed his hands together in eagerness. "I'm in. Is this because that witch tried to zap Mason?"
"It's not only that. I have other reasons."
"I mean, I don't like Mason. But not responding to an attack just leads to problems down the road. Just like in Tokyo. They respect us now."
I finished my juice and waved at the waitress to bring refills.
Once she left, Logan said, "I can get some C4 from my friend in Caspar. We can rip the doors off most vaults, but if this one is too tough, we can blast the hinges. We can be in and out in less than five minutes."
I shook my head. Werewolves like Logan were the reason the government paid a lot to keep us separate from humans. "I like your enthusiasm, but we will not use C4 and kill a bunch of innocent humans. Plus, that vault is owned by witches, there’ll be a lot of magical protections."
"So? They won't work against us. Like that witch in Tokyo found out, spells and potions just piss us off."
"My plan is for Mason to handle the cameras, the alarms, and the locks. I'll walk through any wards that give him trouble and watch his back and help him haul the loot away. If everything goes well, they won't even know we’ve robbed them until after we leave."
"So what do you need me for? Sounds like you get to have all the fun."
"The stash in the vault is almost all gold coins."
Logan's ears perked up. All supernaturals love gold. He took a sip of coffee, sat back, and asked, "What's your plan, alpha? And what do you need me to do?"
"I need someone to convert about two thousand one-ounce gold coins to untraceable cash."
"You could get Kuga to do it. She practically owns a bank."
"One, she's too honest. Two, she's still loyal to Naomi. Three, do you really think I want to pay taxes on my gold? I said I want untraceable cash."
"Two thousand one-ounce coins. That's over a hundred and twenty pounds." He scrunched his face as he calculated. "Almost three million dollars at the spot price. I won't get spot, but still, a nice chunk of change."
"A chunk of change that no bank or government knows about."
Logan finished his coffee. "I know a guy in Reno. But it’ll take time to offload the gold."
"Then it's a perfect project for you to handle while we're gone." I finished my juice. "And you can stay here in Las Vegas, making runs up to Reno as needed. Maybe spend more time with the kids."
"Okay, Luna. I'm in. But you know…" He made a finger-rubbing gesture.
He’d called me "Luna," not "alpha." Yeah, this wasn't really a pack job. I could order him, but maybe it was better to incentivize the deal.
"Five percent would be generous for your cut."
"Fifteen would be more generous."
"I can find someone in Reno, too. Ten percent it is."
"Done." Logan laughed. "I would have gone for seven."
The best part about dealing with the pack was that he wouldn't lie to me. I nodded acceptance.
"Keep another ten percent of the coins in reserve. I'd like to have a few in my purse."
We discussed more details about keeping the pack out of trouble and busy. I authorized Logan to use some funds to handle pack business.
After I explained my plan, Logan said, "Shouldn't this job be left to your beta? I'm just the runt."
"Samuel is a great fighter and he can make the others obey, but for this job, I want someone who's sneaky, underhanded, and has no regard for human laws."
"Then I'm your guy."
I proposed a taxi back and Logan happily called an Uber to pick us up. We paid at the cashier.
Just before leaving, I pressed two one-hundred-dollar bills in the waitress's hand and gave her a hug. "Thanks for everything."
Back at the hotel, I stepped into our room. The wards that would have kept out witches, monsters, and demons slid off my werewolf skin.
Mason was sitting on the bed in the zen pose he used for meditation, apparently oblivious to the world.
Apparently. His eyes blinked open. "Welcome back, princess. I've missed you."
I took a deep breath. There was no trace of Zanna's scent in the room or on him. He must have scrubbed for an hour to get rid of it.
"Hello, Mason." I couldn't keep the anger from my voice.
"Ouch! That was cold."
"I'm feeling cold."
Instead of arguing, he changed the subject. "Did you enjoy your run?"
"Yes, it cleared my head. We stopped at Denny's for a snack."
"What did you have?"
“Two bacon cheeseburgers with avocado, onion rings, fruit juice. Why?"
He assumed a calculating look, as if he were counting the calories. "Do you think you need to take prenatal vitamins?"
"What are you talking about?"
He gestured and pulled a huge bottle out of thin air. The bottle must have had a thousand vitamins inside. "I got these for you. There was a pharmacy on the way back."
"Quit being so nice! I'm trying to stay mad."
"Okay, I'll say something to make you angry." A long pause. "I love you."
Damn joker. I took a step closer, then sniffed again. "I don't smell Zanna anywhere in this room."
"Of course not. I disintegrated the clothes and showered."
"No, that's not it. I should smell something from when you came in wearing those clothes."
"I disintegrated them before I came up to the room."
"Before—" I had a sudden image of Mason, naked as the day he was born, calmly walking through the crowded
lobby of the hotel, indifferent to the stares of the witches. I bit back a laugh.
I still wanted to argue. "You showed your nude body to all those witches?"
"Not completely nude. I had the vitamin bottle strategically placed. Luckily, I got the largest bottle."
"Smartass magician."
"My Lunatic."
He looked down at the scars on his left shoulder. The scars I had left when I’d claimed him as my mate. Those scars were the only marks on his body, marks he chose to let remain. The symbol of our connection. "Don't you know you're the only one for me?"
"You win," I laughed. "I'm going to shower. I have something planned. You better get ready."
"What's your plan?"
"I plan on making you forget that bitch Zanna ever existed."
When I stepped out of the bathroom, I found Mason had moved the bed to the center of the room. The bed was inside a pentagram with one lit candle at each point. A salt circle outlined the pentagram.
With a thought, I used air magic to blow out the candles and sweep the salt away.
"None of that tantric stuff tonight," I commanded.
Mason's eyes glowed with excitement. "Should I get the leash?"
"Not unless you want to wear it. I feel dominant tonight."
12
The morning sun streamed through the window, waking me from a light doze. Mason was curled against my back, his warmth a comfort. The rhythm of his breathing was that of a person recovering from extreme exertion.
Then the depth of his breathing changed as he approached consciousness.
When I knew he would hear me, I said "Good morning, Brick."
He hugged me tighter. "That's how I like to hear you talk."
He groaned and stretched, joints creaking. "I didn't get enough sleep."
"I thought you didn’t need much sleep. How can you be tired?"
"I can meditate and substitute that for regular sleep. But regular sleep is much more restful. Sleep with you is bliss."
Lycan Legacy - 4 - 5 - 6: Princess - Progeny - Paladin: Book 4 - 5 - 6 in the Lycan Legacy Series Page 9