by Jane Jamison
Were they getting undressed? Her fingers sought Damian’s waist, intent on tugging his T-shirt over his head. Pity that they’d have to stop kissing long enough to get it done.
A mouth to her exposed butt startled her but only for a second. Nibbles ran along her back, and hands covered her naked breasts. At last she could feel Damian’s bare skin against her, his T-shirt gone.
A growl flowed over her ass as Morgan separated her butt cheeks and pressed a kiss to the dark hole. His fingers came next, massaging their way beyond the tight rings. His kisses shared time with his licks. His moans added heat to his fingers’ explorations.
Damian held her shoulders as he continued the kiss. Had he forgotten she was human and needed to breathe? Yet she broke apart for only mere moments, long enough to gasp, and then his mouth captured hers again.
Need, surfacing as fast as lava from an erupting volcano, drove her to push her fingers under Damian’s jeans, seeking the hard treasure. Victorious, she smiled as she earned a moan from him.
At last, he pulled away, his eyes filled with hunger, but with worry, as well. “This isn’t right.”
What isn’t right?
She studied his handsome face, fearful he’d changed his mind about her. “I don’t understand.”
“Shut the fuck up, vampire,” warned Morgan.
“What are you thinking, man?” asked Samuel. His hands covered her breasts completely, possessively.
She’d never seen Damian fight for control of his emotions. Samuel, yes, as he’d struggled against using his magic in anger. Most certainly Morgan whenever his werewolf threatened to use his emotions against him to gain freedom. But never Damian.
“She deserves more. She deserves the first time to be special. Not in the backroom of a diner.”
“No.” Her voice was strangled. “And it’s hardly my first time.” Now wasn’t the time to talk about their sexual pasts. Hers was neither extensive nor colorful. As for theirs? She didn’t want to know. Past relationships didn’t matter.
She sensed Samuel stepping away. “No, Samuel.”
“He’s right. You deserve romance. Romance like in all those books you read.”
She turned to Morgan, who’d been the last to move away. “Morgan, I want you.” She held out her arms, hoping to be the temptress she’d never been before.
Amber flecked his eyes, proving his wolf was close to the surface. Fangs peeked from between his lips. He reversed his direction, once more coming for her.
“Morgan, you know I’m right.”
Morgan stopped abruptly and fisted his hands. Stiffly, he stepped back. “Damn it. I hate it when the vampire’s right.”
Not only confused but shy, Brooklyn accepted the clothes Samuel handed her. “I don’t care about romance. That’s only in books.” Embarrassment flooded her. If it had been anyone other than these three men, she might have believed she’d fallen for a cruel joke. Please was on the tip of her tongue, but she managed to keep it there. She wouldn’t beg. Not even for them.
“Whatever you guys want.” She kept her gaze away from theirs, knowing they’d see her humiliation if she didn’t.
“Brookie, don’t act like that. We only want to make things the best for you.”
Although she knew saying nice things was difficult for Morgan because he was a werewolf, she didn’t care.
“Baby, don’t run off mad,” added Samuel. “We want you.”
She finished pulling her clothes on, shoving away their hands. “Don’t worry about it.” At last, she looked up, centering on Damian. “You’re right. This is all wrong.”
Amid their protests, their calls for her to stay, she bolted from the room. Instead of returning to her duties in the diner, she pushed into the ladies’ room, leaned on the sink, then looked at her refection in the mirror. Who was this woman staring back at her?
“They want me. I know they do,” said the sad face from the mirror.
Had she reacted hastily? Weren’t they only trying to make their first time together beautiful?
The reflection lifted an eyebrow, answering her.
Shit. I messed up.
But what could she do now? Knowing them, they’d probably already left through the back exit. Besides, she had a job to do. Pulling herself together, she left the bathroom, put on a cheery expression, and walked back to her customers.
In credit to Damian’s skills to convince the customers that the argument between the witch and the faerie had all been an act, the customers got to their feet. Their undeserved applause ripped through her, but what else was there to be done?
“Thank you, everyone. I’m glad you enjoyed the show.” She moved quickly then, taking the coffee pot off the warmer to refresh their drinks.
Chapter Four
Morgan settled onto the bar stool in one of his favorites places, The Hair of the Dog Saloon. A good friend and pack mate, “Big Bull” McGowen owned and ran the place. Although a fellow werewolf, Bull had picked up his nickname after tangling with a charging bull and coming out on top. Being Bull, he’d barely acknowledged Morgan’s presence except to place a longneck beer on the counter in front of him. Bull knew when Morgan came in alone, he wanted to be alone.
Damian was right.
Yet as many times as Morgan tried reminding himself of that fact, he still couldn’t get his werewolf to calm the hell down. His wolf, driven by centuries of primal instinct, wanted what it wanted, when it wanted it. Her, to be exact.
Damn, how I hate it when he’s right.
But there was no going back now. At least they’d told Brooklyn how they felt and she’d told them. It wasn’t a bad thing they hadn’t had sex.
The shit it isn’t.
He threw back his head and chugged half his beer. Bull would keep them coming. Not that he’d get drunk. He didn’t have time to consume the amount of alcohol it would take to get a large werewolf drunk.
He closed his eyes and concentrated on keeping his inner wolf at bay. Or would it be easier to turn it loose and run the rest of the night? He could even surprise a tourist camper and give them a thrill, furthering the shifter legends of the island.
“I’m not waiting any longer. You’ll pay up one way or another.”
Shut up.
As insistent and angry as his wolf was, he needed a relaxing atmosphere to calm it down. That and a lot more beer. He downed the rest of his drink and knew Bull would have another sitting in front of him soon enough.
“I don’t have the money. Look, you’ve got to give me a little more time. I swear I’m good for it. I’m having a tough time getting the money transferred.”
“I don’t give a fuck what your excuse is. You borrowed money, and now it’s due along with the interest.”
Shit.
Morgan opened his eyes, giving up on trying to find peace and calm. He’d recognized the loan shark’s voice and searched the mirror hanging behind the bar for the man.
There he is in all his fucked-up glory.
The wizard, Thornton Denton seemed relaxed in the booth to Morgan’s right. Yet he knew Thornton was anything but relaxed.
Why the hell can’t all wizards be like Samuel?
But Thornton was one wizard who loved sinking deeper into the Dark Side of magic. Not only did he use his magic for his own gain he was an unscrupulous man who hated humans. His disgust for Mankind made for some ugly times for island tourists. One of these days, Morgan hoped the other wizards would band together and get rid of him, but it had yet to happen. Samuel refused to say why.
The human male sitting with the wizard had a hangdog expression. Agony burned in his eyes, and Morgan caught a scent of plain old fear.
No doubt Thornton’s latest victim.
The wizard loved loaning money to humans then using his magic to make it impossible for the human to repay. Morgan growled deep in his throat and took up his next beer, downing it in one long gulp.
None of my business.
He couldn’t take care of every poor sucker t
hat visited the island. Now that he and his friends had decided to make Brooklyn their mate, he had enough on his plate.
Still… His gaze drifted back to Thornton and the human.
Poor sucker. Thornton would end up taking his payment out of the man’s hide. Or his mind. Whichever way the wizard would find more entertaining.
But it wasn’t fair. He had nothing against Thornton loaning money even at outrageous interest rates, but to use his magic was just plain wrong. The wizard was setting the man up for failure.
“If you can’t pay me with money, then pay me with something else.”
Morgan frowned, disliking the edge in Thornton’s tone. It held a cruelty born of dark magic.
Stay out of it. It’s none of your business.
A flash out of the corner of his eye caught his attention. He swiveled around but didn’t see anything unusual with the human. But he had seen something. He was certain of it. Probably Thornton’s magic, but what could he do?
Sorry son of a bitch, that Thornton.
At first, he started to slide off his stool and check on the man. Then he remembered that it was none of his business. The most he’d do would be to tell the sheriff and clue Samuel in. Maybe then the other wizards would finally do something about Thornton.
“You staying?” asked Bull.
Morgan studied Thornton a moment then swiveled back around. “Yeah. Keep ’em coming.”
* * * *
“I’m sorry, sir, but there aren’t any empty tables right now. If you care to wait, it’ll be around twenty minutes.” Brooklyn didn’t like the way the man, probably a tourist, was acting. He seemed jittery, his gaze jumping around the room. He kept slicking his tongue over his upper lip and running a hand through his hair. Hopefully, he wouldn’t want to wait and would simply leave. She’d just turned her back when he spoke.
“You cheated me.”
Turning back, she frowned, looked around for anyone else he might be speaking to, then asked, “I’m sorry?”
“You cheated me, you whore.”
She was dumbfounded. Did he believe she’d shorted him on change? But why would he? “Sir, you haven’t even ordered, much less paid for anything. How could I have cheated you?”
“You cheated me,” he repeated.
The man was unstable. She was certain of it. Too bad Sheriff Benedict had left the diner minutes before the man had arrived. “No, sir, I didn’t. You didn’t order anything, and no money exchanged hands. In fact, I’m afraid I’m going to have to ask you to leave.”
He seemed to grapple to find an answer, his jaw working side to side. “Not today. Yeah. That’s it. Not today. Yesterday. I gave you a hundred-dollar bill, and you gave me a ten back instead of ninety dollars.”
Her skill for remembering faces was one she was proud of, and she was positive she’d never seen the man before today. Right now, she wished she’d never seen him at all. “Sir”—she tried to keep the irritation out of her voice, but failed—“we don’t accept hundred-dollar bills so what you’re accusing me of is impossible. But the main thing is that I have never, today or yesterday, served you. Please leave.”
Was there anyone in the diner who could help? Glancing around told her most of the customers were tourists. The locals tended to get their breakfast much earlier. Only a few werebirds were seated at a table on the other side of the room. Not liking confrontation that didn’t include one of their own, they’d be reluctant to help her.
She looked out the window. Would she get lucky again? Were her men close by today?
“You cheated me.” He was back to repeating the same accusation.
“Let me get the owner.” Surely Miranda would know how to handle the man. At least she could buy her enough time to call the sheriff. She’d begun to turn around when the man grabbed her arm.
“Ow! You’re hurting me. Turn me loose.”
“You cheated me.” His voice seemed robotic, toneless now. Almost as though he were under a spell.
Someone has spelled him. Did Cathy put a spell on this man to make him bother me?
“You cheated me, damn it. I want my money.”
She tried to wrench her arm out of his hold, but he was relentless. “Stop it. I’ve never even seen you before.”
“You cheated me.”
“Oh, for shit’s sake, can’t you say anything else?” Vexed, she rammed him with her shoulder.
The man turned her free and fell backward, landing on a woman at the table behind him. The woman let out a shriek and shoved him back onto his feet.
“What the hell is going on out here?”
“Miranda, thank goodness.” Brooklyn hurried to her employer’s side. If anyone could handle the man, it was her witch boss. “This man keeps saying over and over that I stole from him. That I didn’t give him ninety dollars back from a hundred-dollar bill. I swear I’ve never seen him before.”
Even if Miranda hadn’t been a witch, she was no fool. “We don’t take hundred-dollar bills.” She stepped in front of Brooklyn. “Look, mister, you need to get out now, or I’ll call the sheriff.”
The people around the man watched intently but didn’t move. Yet when he snatched the knife off the woman’s table, chairs scraped the hardwood as they hurried either outside or to the far wall.
“You’re going to pay. I’m going to get my money one way or another.” Even as he threatened her again, his voice remained emotionless.
“You do not want to hurt anyone.” Incredibly, Miranda took a step toward the possible attacker. “Put the knife down.”
Anyone who hadn’t grown up with witches wouldn’t have caught the slight change in Miranda’s body language. With a flick of her hand and the barest move of her fingers, she stilled the man, keeping him from coming toward them. Another flick and he lowered the knife. His mouth moved, but no sounds came out.
Miranda took another step forward. “Leave. Now.”
Without hesitation, the man dropped the knife, spun around, and then marched outside. Palpable relief swept over everyone in the diner, including Brooklyn.
Miranda, however, didn’t seem as relieved. “What’s going on with you? That’s two altercations in two days.”
Brooklyn couldn’t believe her boss was blaming her. “I didn’t cause either one of them.”
At last, Miranda relaxed. “Sorry. I know. Still, it’s odd. Very odd. Even for West End.”
“I’m sorry, but I don’t know what else to say.”
“No need to apologize.” Miranda checked out the window to where the man was now leaning on a lamp pole. “I’ll call the sheriff. In the meantime, you call it a day and head out the back way. I’ll handle the rest of your shift.”
“Are you sure you’re not angry with me?”
“No, no. It’s just strange is all. That was Randall Cartlidge. He’s been coming to the island for the past two years and has never once acted strangely. He’s always been very polite and easy-going. Something’s up.” She turned Brooklyn around and gave her a slight shove toward the back. “Never you mind. Go on now. Enjoy some time off. Go and visit those men of yours.”
Men of mine? The town definitely knows.
She started to deny it, but what good would it do? “Okay. Thanks.” She hurried toward the back, eager to get away from yet another scene at her job.
* * * *
“Have you two heard about what happened at the diner?” Damian hated gossip, but in a town the size of West End, a person could stand on a street corner and hear people talking about the day’s events. It was even truer for a vampire with sensitive hearing.
Morgan shot him a scornful look. “Uh, yeah. I came to the rescue, remember?” He propped his feet onto the coffee table since Reagan wasn’t home to give him hell for it. His beer bottle was frosted just the way he liked.
“He’s not talking about that.” Samuel leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees. “What’s happened?”
“Don’t worry. Brooklyn’s fine.” Damian knew they’d want
to know that before anything else. At least now he had Morgan’s full attention. “Some tourist accused her of giving him the wrong change from a hundred.”
Morgan scoffed then eased back, assured that their mate was all right. “They don’t make change for bills that large.”
“No, they don’t.” Damian had already checked with Miranda and then with the sheriff, gathering all the facts he could. “The man was off. He kept saying over and over that she’d cheated him.”
“I hope Miranda tossed his ass out.” Yet from Samuel’s expression, he wasn’t really asking to get an answer. He was asking questions to get to the meat of the story.
“She did.” Damian pushed down the rise of anger that came every time he thought about Brooklyn being in danger. Vampires were considered cold-blooded, which was understandable since they were often emotionally distant, the extremes of their once-human natures held in strict check. But they could get angry. Very angry. Especially when a loved one was in harm’s way.
“And?” asked Samuel, once more leading.
“The man took a knife off a table and threatened her.”
Morgan’s response was immediate, his inner wolf leaping to the surface as fangs and fur broke through. Samuel’s anger simmered just below the surface, his blue eyes the only thing showing his fury.
He’d have made a good vampire. Great control.
“She’s all right. Miranda handled the man. Reagan checked on her after Miranda sent her home.”
“Good.” Samuel’s anger cooled. He tugged on Morgan’s arm, urging his friend to keep the shift from going all the way. With a snarl at Samuel, Morgan gave in and sat back down.
“Here’s the thing, though,” said Damian. “Miranda swears the man had to be in a spell. Said he’s an annual tourist and that he’s basically a good guy. Never caused any trouble, much less something like this.”
“Who would put a spell on a tourist and aim him at Brooklyn?”
Samuel had put his finger on the problem. The more Damian thought about it, the more certain he was that Brooklyn had been the target of the man’s spellbound rant. But why? “I don’t know. Miranda says Brooklyn didn’t know the man. Had never met him.”