“Does Greg have any idea how you feel about him?” Meagan leaned across the bar on her elbows so she could be heard.
Fianna shrugged and bit her lip. “I do not know.” Honestly, she wasn’t sure herself how she felt about the sexy werewolf. On the one hand, he was irreverent, sarcastic and uncouth, most of the time, anyway. On the other, he could turn her bones to jelly with just a look.
“Have you and he…you know?” Meagan raised an eyebrow and grinned. “Done it?”
“Done what?” Then Fianna caught her meaning and felt her skin heat with a flush. Her complexion was very fair, so she knew right now her skin must be a vivid pink. “Oh! No. He has kissed me though. Twice. Once when I was still…” She wasn’t supposed to mention the words Fae or elf in public, as most humans were unaware of their existence.
“Still working for Aidan? Yeah, I knew about that one.”
Trust Meagan to find the right words. Though how had she known? Had Greg said something?
“Ric and I had a fight that day, and Greg drove me home. When I noticed the lipstick on his ear, I believe his exact words were, ‘Aidan’s new secretary is really hot.’”
“He said that? Truly?” Fianna had come to Detroit as executive assistant to Meagan’s cousin, Lord Aidan Green Oak, who oversaw the local safe-house. Here he was known as Aidan Greene, CEO of Underhill, Inc., which managed the Fae’s vast holdings in the mortal realm. That’s where she’d met Greg. Even when she’d still believed mortals and werewolves were inferior, he’d still made her tingle, still appealed to her senses in way that had confused and frightened her. She’d learned more about humans and shifters over the last few months, much to her own shame. Greg still confused her, but she was no longer afraid of her feelings.
“Hey, Fee, you still with me?” Meagan tapped Fianna on the shoulder.
“I’m sorry.” She’d gotten caught up in watching Greg again.
“It’s all right. I was watching them, too. So, is he a good kisser?”
Fianna’s face flamed again. All she could do was give a jerk of her head in response. A moment later, she sighed. “He was…amazing.” Not that she had a lot to compare him with.
“Go for it. I’ve seen the way he looks at you. Heat like that doesn’t come along every day. When you do get the chance, you need to grab on and enjoy the ride.”
“Sometimes I only understand half of what you say.” American idioms did still confuse her on occasion, though this time she had caught the meaning. “He says he has a rule against dating employees. He feels responsible for me since the queen assigned me to his service.”
“That’s probably it. Men of any race get weird when it comes to their personal code of honor.” Meagan shrugged. “I mean, anyone with eyes can see he wants you.”
Was Meagan right? Fianna tried not to get her hopes up. Did Greg want her? Was he holding back because of some bizarre sense of duty, or had he only kissed her because she was female and nearby?
The love song ended and another tune began, this one a classic rock anthem that was part of The Lonely Wolves’ standard repertoire. Fianna had learned something about modern music since she’d been working for the Novaks. The best thing about this song was that it was one of the few on which Greg sang the lead. His almost impossibly deep voice made goose bumps rise on her skin. She’d met enough other werewolves to know it was Greg himself who attracted her, not the species as a whole. As a group, they were more open and less refined than the Fae and perhaps more pragmatic. Greg himself—well, he was just Greg, and stood out from the rest in ways she couldn’t explain, even to herself.
What would she do if he ever got over his qualms about being her employer and turned the full force of his charisma on her? Fianna wasn’t sure she’d be able to cope.
Greg finished the second set and put down his drumsticks. They’d been rocking out, and he was sweating like crazy, his T-shirt sticking to his chest. It was good though. The whole band was grinning. The audience had eaten them up with a spoon. Lana set her electric bass into its stand and high-fived Ric, while George bumped fists with Vince, who played keyboard.
To his surprise, Fianna was waiting at the base of the steps with a tray of beers and a shy smile on her lovely, elven face. Greg took a pint glass of Atwater Dunkel, his favorite local brew, and stepped aside so the others could exit the stage, as well. Each of them grabbed a beer, thanking Fianna as they passed. Lana headed for the ladies’ room, while George and Ric made beelines for the bar. Vince wandered off to a table full of sorority girls.
Greg stayed and soaked in the sight of Fianna. His fingers brushed hers as she lowered the now-empty tray and his whole body instantly responded.
Keeping his hands off her for the last three months had been damn near impossible. The only time he’d cracked had been the night of Meagan and Ric’s wedding, when he’d come back to the bar, lonely and horny. That night, he’d given in to the urge to kiss her as he’d walked her upstairs after closing time. The kiss had gotten out of hand, fast. If a call hadn’t come in about Aidan’s daughter being kidnapped, Greg didn’t think he’d have been able to stop.
“Is that Meagan working behind the bar?” He knew it was, but it was something to say. Mostly, he wanted to stay here against the wall and watch Fianna. Simply standing next to her was easily as much fun as kissing anybody else.
“It is, and she shouldn’t be, but she insists.” Fee grimaced toward the bar. “She was a big help though. It’s a good crowd tonight.”
“She’ll be okay. Meagan’s a smart cookie. She’ll stop if she starts feeling rocky.” Without thinking, he reached out and slid his arm around Fianna’s waist. “It’s nice of you to worry about her though. I’m sure she appreciates it.”
Fee sighed and leaned her head into his shoulder. “She is a lucky woman. The way Ric looks at her—it’s like something from one of his ballads. Until I came here, I never knew that it was real, love like theirs, or Aidan and Elise’s, or Jase and your brother’s.”
One thing he’d liked about her from the start was her easy acceptance of George and Jase, even when she’d been snooty about werewolves in general. “It doesn’t happen for everybody.” He leaned closer, inhaling the scent of her hair, vanilla and peach, which made him want to eat her up like an ice-cream sundae. “I know more people who are divorced than I do happy couples. But when it does happen…Yeah, it’s a pretty amazing thing.” He looked over at the bar. Ric was behind it now, helping his wife pull drafts. George had gone to work beside Jase, after a quick but scorching kiss.
“Have you ever been married?” Fee’s next question caught him by surprise.
“Nope. Came close once, but it didn’t work out.” Even after fourteen years, guilt mingled with relief when he thought about that.
“Hello, waitress. Can we get some help?”
Fee sighed and moved away from Greg, much to his body’s disappointment. “I swear, if that customer pinches me one more time, I’m going to dump a beer in his lap. Then you’ll have to fire me.”
Greg took the tray from her hands and bared his teeth. “We’ll see if he tries to pinch me.”
Hours later, the bar was closed, the staff had gone home, but Greg, George, Jase, Lana and Fee sat around a table piled high with sandwiches, chips and beer.
“We’re thinking about having a wedding,” George said, squeezing Jase’s hand. “We haven’t decided which state yet to go to since Michigan is so freaking backward.”
Greg gaped at his brother and grinned broadly and high-fived him across the table. “Way to go, guys!”
Lana hugged them both, even as she grumbled. “Seems like everyone we know is hooking up. Must be something in the water. First Ric and Meagan, then Aidan and Elise, now these two.”
“Well, maybe you’ll meet somebody hot at the wedding,” Greg teased. He felt it, too, though, that sense of being left behind. He was thirty-seven years old and only now was he starting to feel lonely. “Weddings are great for getting in the mood.”
<
br /> Next to Lana, who sat directly across from Greg, Fianna flushed a bright pink. Greg winked at her, remembering the sultry kisses he’d shared with her after Meagan and Ric’s reception. This time he hadn’t even touched her, but his body responded instantly. Damn, tomorrow was a full moon, so all his hormones were in overdrive. He’d definitely have to go out to Belle Isle for a long, hard run tomorrow night. Sometimes a wolf needed some kind of release, and since he wasn’t going to haul Fee up to his apartment and tie her to the bed for a week, running in wolf form was going to have to do it.
George started talking about a new band he’d seen that he wanted to have play at the club. Greg leaned back in his chair and took a long swallow of beer.
Glass shattered.
The window was high, since the club was in the basement of the old building, and behind Lana and Fee who sat with their backs to the wall. Shards of glass cascaded down to the table where they sat and onto them. A glass vodka bottle, half-full of clear fluid, with a flaming rag stuck in the top, thudded onto the tray of sandwiches.
Flames whooshed into Greg’s and George’s faces. Fianna screamed, Lana cursed, as did the men. Briefly blinded, Greg felt his claws emerge and his fangs lengthen as terror and anger brought his wolf to the surface.
Even as he scrabbled out of his chair and away from the fire, he was moving toward Fee. His first coherent thought, after damn that hurts, was to make sure she was clear of the fire. He scented her shampoo over the smell of gasoline and smoke, and was beside her even as his eyes cleared. It was a fight, but he reined in the change and remained in human form.
Once he saw that Fee was safe, he leaped over the bar to grab the fire extinguisher. Jase pulled off his wool jacket and threw it down to smother the flames, which had already covered most of the old wooden table. George and Lana followed suit. Even Fee pulled off her apron and started beating at the flames before Greg sprayed them with the extinguisher.
A moment later, the other window broke. This time, the Molotov cocktail landed on the band platform, knocking over a mike stand. Oh shit, not my drum kit. It was better than people being hurt, but it would still be a loss. At least all the other instruments had been put away. George ran for the door and up the stairs while Greg sprinted toward the stage with the extinguisher.
The shrill scream of the fire alarm echoed in his ear. Damn. Now the fire department and therefore the cops would be involved. The alarm also triggered the sprinkler system, so they were operating in an effective rainstorm.
The sound of squealing tires outside let them know their assailants had fled, even before George ran back down the stairs to report as much. “Dark blue sedan,” he yelled over the blare of the smoke detector. “I got a plate number, but it was probably stolen.”
The small stage and his drum kit were mostly destroyed by the time Greg managed to get that fire out. The table they’d been using was a total loss, along with the shirts of most of the men, Lana’s denim jacket and Fee’s apron. Soot stained the ceiling and walls where both blazes had so briefly reached and streaked the faces of the breathless, singed and soggy group.
Now Greg took time to check out his friends. There were a few nicks from broken glass, one on Fee’s arm and one on Jase’s scalp. Lana leaned against the bar and picked bits of glass from her hair. Greg and George had taken the worst of it—flames full in the face. Thanks to their werewolf regeneration, though, the blisters were already receding. Their eyebrows and eyelashes would grow back in a day or two.
They clustered around the bar, wet and hurting while they waited for the authorities. Greg made coffee, Lana bandaged Fee’s arm and George saw to Jase. It didn’t take long. There was a fire station a few blocks from the club, and Greg had encouraged the firefighters as well as the local cops to hang out here on a semi-regular basis.
“Well, I’ll file the reports, but you know how it is with gang bullshit,” said one officer who looked like he hadn’t slept in a week. Lana smiled at him and handed him another cup of coffee. If the coffee didn’t perk him up, the smile did. The balding, middle-aged guy straightened up and preened like a model. Lana usually had that effect on males, especially this close to the full moon when her pheromones were flaring. “Nobody ever knows anything, sees anything.”
“I know.” Greg didn’t think it was gang activity anyway, and the human cops weren’t going to do him a whole lot of good against whoever was targeting werewolves all over town. Several businesses had been vandalized over the last few weeks, but this was the first he’d heard of a firebombing.
“Doesn’t look like any structural damage,” one of the firemen reported. “Still, we’ll have to close the building until the inspectors have cleared it. Can you make sure the upstairs tenants have somewhere to go?”
“We’re all right here,” Lana answered. “Only three of the apartments are in use, and we all work at the club.” She pointed to herself, Greg and Fee.
George said, “You can all bunk at our place.” He and Jase shared a small house out in Royal Oak, with a vacant apartment over the garage.
“Looks like we’ve got it covered,” Greg said to the firefighter. “You’ll let us know when we can come in and start cleaning up?”
“Of course.”
“Can we go upstairs and get some dry clothes?” Trust Lana to remember things like that. After the sprinklers had gone off, everything, including their clothes, had been soaked. Luckily, the fire hadn’t been big enough to trigger the ones in the rest of the building, so only the club had water damage.
The fireman nodded. “Yeah, don’t tell anyone. And make it quick. We’ve got to tape the doors shut on our way out.”
They all dashed for the stairs. Lana’s and Fee’s apartments were on the second floor, while Greg’s was on the third, along with the one that used to be George’s. Fortunately, he and Jase still kept some things stashed there, for nights they stayed late at the bar, so they wouldn’t have to drive home soaked and shirtless.
Greg took a moment to call the woman who ran the coffee shop on the first floor to explain the situation and let her know she’d have to close for a few days. He changed into clean jeans and a Wayne State University sweatshirt, tossed some clothes, a toothbrush and his laptop into a bag and was back at the second floor landing as Fee stepped from her flat and closed the door behind her.
“Are you okay?” He lifted her arm and pushed up the sleeve of the silvery-gray sweater she’d changed into. This close, he could smell the blood on her arm as well as the smoke in her hair and his gut clenched. She’d been in danger because of him. Without thinking, he tugged her even closer.
“I am fine. It’s only a scratch. What about you? I saw those flames hit you right in the face?” She reached up and touched his now-healed cheek and throat.
“Werewolves regenerate quickly,” he reminded her. “I’m good as new.” He wasn’t sure why he gathered her close to his chest and held her there. It felt like the right thing to do. For the moment, his need to hold her overrode his conscience.
Fee must have agreed. She looped her arms around his waist and held on as well, snuggling her face into his chest.
“Will you be okay going with Lana to George and Jase’s?” His voice sounded husky and thick. The full moon. He needed that run, and he needed it badly, or he’d never be able to keep his control around Fee.
“That will be fine, but what about you? Aren’t you going with us?”
“I’ve got some stuff to do. I’ll catch up with you there later.”
She looked up at him and the thick golden lashes framing her aquamarine eyes glinted. Tears? “I’m so sorry about your club. Will you be able to repair the damages?”
“Easily enough.” He couldn’t resist dropping a kiss on her tiny, upturned nose. “Mostly it will be cleaning up.” She blinked rapidly at that tiny kiss, licked her lips and moved closer. Damn, she ought to be pushing him away. “Get some sleep. We’ll be mopping and hauling garbage all day tomorrow.”
“I will be
ready.” Three months ago she’d never even swept a floor. Now she was gamely jumping into wet, smelly manual labor. His Faerie princess had come a long way. He was prouder of her than he should probably admit.
He knew he shouldn’t kiss her. Not now, when his emotions were riding as high as his lupine hormones. But she was safe and in his arms and soft and smiling. He moved slowly, giving her plenty of time to move. She didn’t back away, but came up on her tiptoes to meet him.
Oh, damn. Kissing Fee was like holding lightning in his hand. She barely seemed to know what she was doing, but she tasted sweet and her enthusiasm made up for any lack of technique. Her arms wrapped around his neck as she opened her lips. He delved inside, desperate for a taste of her. Holding her waist with one arm, he tangled his other hand in her long, silky hair, unbound and damp from the sprinkler.
Every instinct urged him to take her, mark her, claim her. He kept his eyes open during the kiss. She intrigued all his senses and he didn’t want to miss anything. A rosy flush tinted her cheeks and her eyelids had fluttered shut. Her slender body pressed into his and he felt every sinuous curve. Her ragged moans were music to his ears. Even over the smoke that clung to her skin, she smelled of vanilla soap and femininity. He could also scent her arousal, which only ramped up his own.
How long they stood there, lips fused, hearts pounding in tandem, he didn’t know. He’d tuned out the rest of the world and started to slide his hand up under Fee’s sweater when something—someone—shook his shoulder, hard.
“Greg, snap out of it. We need to leave the building now.”
He snarled as he broke the kiss, instinctively pushing Fee behind his back. It only took half a heartbeat for him to see Lana standing there, eyes flashing with laughter and a wicked grin on her face. “Maybe you two should take the apartment and I’ll take the inside guest room.”
Motor City Wolf Page 2