by Celia Kyle
“You said that if you… You can’t what?” She focused on him, waiting for his answer and recognizing the pain in his features.
“If I take pleasure in you, if I accept your touch and finish, then I…” he tore his attention from her and she noticed the strong line of his jaw and the muscle that tightened in his cheek. “I can’t go back to On High. I’ll be stuck in the tween. I can touch you and stroke you, but I can’t… I’m pushing the boundaries as far as I can, but taking you, finding the ultimate pleasure with you… I just can’t.”
Caith forced herself to remain standing, to not crumble beneath the weight of his words. Her wolf howled its protest, but she couldn’t be bothered with the animal, not when little cracks were marring her heart. Could she have become that attached to him in so little time? Been turned into that needy girl in less than a day?
Yes. The answer was yes.
“I see.”
She did, but she didn’t.
“Thank you for your help last night, but I’m sure you can understand why I never want to see you again.”
Ever. Fucking asshole. “I want you, I’ve been teasing and tormenting you, but I can’t finish the job. So sorry. Oh? You think I’m your mate?” Yeah, not happening.
Sam turned his attention back to her and took a step forward. “Caith… Don’t…”
She shook her head and backed away.
Caith wished she was able to vanish in a puff of sulfur and smoke like her mother, or even a swirl of golden air like her pixie king father. But what she could do was run. Shift and race away and forget Samkiel. She tore through the bushes at a run, increasing speed as she let the wolf rush forward. From one stride to the next, she went from two feet to four, clothes vanishing with a mere thought.
At least Papa Percy gave her that. All five of her fathers gave her so many things, but no one had ever given her the cure for an aching heart.
Fuck it, she didn’t need anyone anyway. She had her friend, her bar, and… nothing else. And she’d never want anything more again.
Definitely not a half-fallen angel who made her pulse race and hellfire burn with just a look.
Definitely not him.
Chapter Seven
By the time Caith got to the bar, she was really feeling the lack of sleep. She wasn’t a two hundred year old child any longer. Girl needed a bed.
Balancing her massive mug of coffee courtesy of Momma R, she brushed her hand over the warded handle and found… the magical guard missing. Caith huffed and lowered the carafe to the ground, making sure it wasn’t gonna fall over before she released it. So help her, if zombies or vamps were inside, she’d burn the whole place to the fucking ground.
Maybe.
Remember Chicago…
Well, she had better control today. Better control and she wished she’d hauled her blades along, but zombie blood was a bitch to remove once it dried, and Momma R was a master at cleaning them. Which meant she was left with whatever weapons filled the bar.
After fishing the key out of her pocket, she slid it into the lock and listened for movement inside. No moaning or shuffle of feet on the bare concrete. So, no zombies. Maybe. Vamps were still a possibility. Too bad wearing a cross didn’t do a damned thing.
That had been a painful lesson. It also stopped Papa Leth from buying her crosses for every birthday.
She let her mind flip through the layout of the club—the sword that rested atop the beam above the front door along with the three foot long, two by four to the left of the entry. Then the gun—
The lock flipped and the door wrenched open to reveal…
“Are you gonna stand out here all day?” Drek, leader of the local thelacs. Great.
And the young idiot from last night lurked behind the commander. Lovely.
“I was contemplating how I was gonna kick your ass,” she growled and without hesitation, punched the massive thelac in the chest. She was gratified when the seven-foot male stumbled backward. “Fortunately for you, I’m about blood-covered out.”
Drek narrowed his eyes, and stepped back. “That’s why we’re here.”
Caith sighed and bent down to snare her travel mug of steaming coffee. “Does everyone in town know about last night?” she grumbled and took a sip of her morning wake-up call. Burning hot. Not hellfire hot, but still delicious. “You’d think a girl could have a little privacy.”
Drek slammed the front door, the vibrations shaking the entire building.
The entire wrecked building.
Her gaze scanned the open space and she noted the still shattered tables, the glass that littered the ground, and the splotches of blood that coated the concrete. The damage was the standard Hell’s Chapel fare. None of it was difficult to clean by the brownies. So why the hell was her bar still a disaster area?
“What the fuck?”
Drek’s rumbling voice vibrated through her. “We wondered the same thing. But you never know with you, and who am I to question the mistress of our town.”
Caith snorted. “That never stopped you before.”
He chuckled. “True. But I am about to annoy you, so I’d like to get on your good side first.”
With a groan, she turned back to the two thelac warriors. “What now? I didn’t mark the puppy and he’s still breathing.” She gestured at the younger male. “What more do you want from me?”
The massive man smiled, exposing his deadly, poisonous fangs. If a thelac couldn’t beat you to death, injecting you with his toxin would do the job.
“You misunderstand. I do not wish to take, I wish to give.” She raised a single brow in question and Drek pointed at the warrior puppy. “Edzard is appointing himself your guardian.”
“Hell save me from interfering males.” She dropped her head back, glancing at the wooden crossbeams. Damn, blood got all the way up there, too. “I don’t need a guardian.”
“We disagree,” Drek countered.
“Disagree all you want, but I don’t want him.”
“I was not clear. High Witch Helene Renard disagrees.”
Now she groaned. “Seriously?”
“Yes.” A single syllable that sealed her fate.
“Fine,” she grumbled. It wasn’t like she could refuse an order from Momma R. “He stays, but he helps. Obviously, the brownies took a vacay, and I gotta get the bar ready for tonight. My liquor delivery will be here in an hour.”
Of course, the local liquor supplier was wolf owned and she knew how protective and chest beating the pack could be. Ugh.
Hearing her decree had Edzard grimacing, but he nodded. “If it means you will allow me to protect you, then yes.”
Caith chuckled. “You say that as if you had a choice.” She turned her attention to Drek. “Leave the puppy here. I’ll send him home when I’m done with him.”
The smile he flashed said he knew something she didn’t. She opened her mouth to ask, but Drek presented her with his back and promptly left the bar.
Great.
She sighed and met Edzard’s gaze. “All right, puppy, let’s get the bar into shape.”
“I’m not a dog,” he snarled, flashing his fangs.
She stepped past him, pausing long enough to pat his large bicep. “Keep telling yourself that, but the fact you had to tell me proves my point.”
Was she ever that young?
Probably, but she’d never admit that aloud.
“I’m going to call Dead Nettle to see what the hell happened last night and then I’m starting on the worst of it. Straighten out what you can and start a pile of junk near the front door. We’ll have the brownies haul it away once I get them here.” Those little fuckers better be dying in a ditch. All fifty of them. She rounded the end of the scratched and pitted bar and reached for the phone. Caith dialed the number from memory. It rang, and rang again, the trilling sound continuing until the answering machine picked up. She ignored the rambling request to leave a message and then the long tone
told her she could give him a piece of her mind.
“Dead Nettle, it’s Caith. What happened to you guys last night? Hell’s Chapel is a disaster area. Call me when you get this message. I need your crew here ASAP.”
With that, she dropped the handle into the cradle and returned her attention to the mess that was her bar. It was going to take forever to get things sorted.
No time like the present.
Caith bent over and snared half a table, the other piece nearby was nothing more than kindling. Well, at least she could burn this stuff after hours. A quick shot of hellfire and poof.
That wouldn’t solve her lack of tables and chairs. Dammit, what was up with the brownies?
The annoying buzzer announced someone was at the back door and she sighed. Okay, check in the liquor order and then clean. She went toward the bar, focusing on the doorway hidden behind the curtain, only to be brought up short by a snarling thelac.
“Stay back, it could be a trap.”
“Oh, that’s so sweet.” She patted his back. “But the green-eyed monsters are a little stealthier. That’s just my order. You stay put.” She scooted around him and resumed her path, leaving a growling puppy in her wake.
As she suspected, it was merely the delivery, and Ellery was waiting with his clipboard as always. She met his easy smile. At least he seemed happy to see her and wasn’t intent on protecting her from everything bad in the world.
And then… Ellery’s nostrils flared and a different expression filled his gaze. His eyes yellowed with the presence of his wolf, and gray fur slid free of his pores. The scent of his arousal struck her and then she remembered…
Remembered she should have showered—again—before leaving Momma R’s.
Caith took a step back, putting space between her and Ellery. She really hated this about werewolves. If they scented an unmated, aroused female wolf, they were all about getting their groove on. For some reason, due to Caith’s make up, they really really wanted her.
It was one of the reasons she stayed the hell away from the local pack after her split from the alpha. A girl couldn’t look at a hot guy without getting her leg humped.
“No, Ellery, I don’t want you.” She took another step.
“Yes,” he growled. “You do.”
“Ellery, I would really like to just get my order and go back inside. So why don’t you look at your happy little clipboard, count out my cases and we’ll get this done.”
He licked his lips, tongue flicking his sharpened fangs. “You’re unclaimed.”
“But I’m not really a wolf, remember? Just a mutt. Isn’t that right?” She normally kicked a wolf’s ass for saying those words, but a girl had to do what she had to do.
“You’d still carry pups.” He came closer.
“Last chance, Ellery. I know I smell good, but that was because of some gel. I swear.”
That had the wolf snorting. “You and a gel? Never happen. This is for me. You want me, Caith.”
Yes, her and a gel. For at least a few hours anyway. Then he’d been a dick and destroyed her wolf’s hopes. Her hopes, really. But fuck him. Thinking about him wasn’t going to solve her current problem.
Ellery flexed his hands, claws replacing his human fingers and she internally groaned. “You asked for it. Remember that. When your alpha drags your sorry ass off, you remember to tell him I gave you a warning.”
He smiled widely, exposing those wicked fangs. “Come to me, little bitch.”
Bitch? Hell no. She was gonna make this one hurt.
It took two strikes. Okay, it took one strike, and the second was because he pissed her off. Then he was out like a light. She dragged Ellery to the brick wall and propped him against the scratchy surface. Now, for good measure, she licked the pad of her thumb and pressed it against the wolf’s forehead. A burning tingle filled the digit and Ellery’s skin glowed with her power. When she removed her touch, the spot glowed, and pulsed a deep red before finally fading into nothingness.
Humans wouldn’t see the magical brand, but the tweens, dems, and gels? Yeah. Just as she’d tried to do to puppy last night, Ellery was now banned from Hell’s Chapel. No amount of force would allow him on the grounds once he drove away.
Wolf handled, she got to work, comparing Ellery’s inventory with her order and hauled the correct crates from his truck. It didn’t take long to unload and even less time to pull the rolling door down and secure it. She’d call for someone to haul him away and that would be that.
Brushing her hands off, she headed toward the main part of the bar, yelling to Edzard as she went. “Yo, Puppy.” She stomped toward the common area. “Give the local alpha a call and tell him I warned him and there’s an unconscious wolf in my—” Caith slid to a stop the moment she pushed past the curtain. “Oh, fuck.”
Those two words were met by a narrow-eyed stare from Papa Leth and a sigh from Papa Finn. Papa Eron raised a single brow, while pixie king Papa Percy grinned. She knew those four dads weren’t a big problem, but it was the fifth, werewolf, Papa Alrick, who was going to be a little difficult.
“The local alpha?” His voice was deceptively soft. “And what warning was he given? Is there a reason there is an unconscious wolf… Where is he?”
Caith scrunched her nose. He wasn’t mad at her. Just the opposite really. He was damned protective of her—they all were—but Papa Al had issues with the local pack being so… local.
“Well, the thing about it is…”
“Caith,” he snapped at her and she sighed. There was no getting around it.
“You know how werewolves get all bow chicka bow bow around girl werewolves and how that sometimes kinda sorta happens with—”
The rolling growl was not unexpected. Nor was the way he jumped to his feet or came barreling toward her. She did manage to block him. Sorta. She placed her hands on his chest, attempting to keep him at bay, and he had her sliding for a couple feet before he realized she wasn’t moving out of his path.
“I took care of it. He’s out like a light and banned from the grounds. That’s what I told the alpha I’d do if another wolf pulled a gimme-gimme. Now, if Puppy will call Justin so they can get him…” Caith glanced around, finally noticing there was one six-foot, black as midnight warrior missing. “What did you guys do with Puppy?” She turned her questioning look to Papa Leth.
The large male merely shrugged. “He wouldn’t let us in. I knocked him out. Your third father tied him up. We did allow your fourth father to put a smile on his face.”
The man looked as if he expected her to be happy about that.
“Papa Leth, quit numbering the dads,” that was one of the oldest arguments in the book.
“Why? I am your first father. I was granted the honor of visiting your mother’s bed before—”
Caith stuck her fingers in her ears. “I’m not listening to you. I was an immaculate conception, dammit.”
That earned her a glare from Papa Leth and she lowered her hands. “There was one Immaculate Conception and you were not it. Your mother took us into her—”
“Oh Hell, no.” She smacked her hands over her ears again. “We need to seriously change the topic here.”
It was her werewolf father who tugged her hands away. “We will return to the wolf in the alley.”
Caith winced. “Maybe we should go back to conception.”
“Why did he feel…”
“No. Just,” she shook her head and stepped around him. “Not going into why he felt the way he did. At all. Ever, even.”
“Is he worthy of you? This male who is not the wolf, yet you want him?” Papa Leth again. He was very old school, very big with the worthiness and power and ability to separate heads from bodies.
“It doesn’t matter, Papa Leth, because we’re not getting together ever again.”
And wrong thing to say, because she had all five—even her peace-loving father Eron—snarling about a male who used her and tossed her
away.
Ignoring every growl and yell, she placed two fingers between her lips and released a loud whistle, silencing them before they picked up pitchforks and hunted Sam. “Let’s focus on why you’re here, okay. You five never visit me at the same time. This show of solidarity is…” Scary as Hell. “Surprising.”
Papa Leth glared at her as if he read her mind. “We brought your swords.”
“Aw, man. That means…”
“Helene called,” Papa Percy finished.
Caith looked at him, eyebrows raised. “Helene?”
No one called the woman by her first name. Except, apparently, Papa Percy.
Percy shrugged. “Until, or unless, your mother decides she wants another child, we are free to associate with other women.”
Of course, that brought her a nice mental image of Papa Percy and Momma R doing the wild thing and she gagged. “No, just no.” She shook her head. “Never say those words ever again.”
That had him grinning even wider.
Thankfully Papa Finn cut in. “She told us of your troubles and we swung by to pick up your father—”
“Fourth father,” Papa Leth interrupted.
“Fourth father,” Finn glared at Leth, “and your swords before coming to hear the words from your lips.”
“It really isn’t that big of a deal.” She got five skeptical glances. “All right, it was a semi-big deal, but I’m fine. Papa Al is poking his nose into people’s business and Momma R is looking into the green-eyed stuff.” She let her attention move from dad to dad. “I promise I’m okay. And I promise to call you if I run into trouble again. But for now, there’s not much I can do but work.” She finally settled on her warrior father. “I can’t sit and wait, Papa Leth. You didn’t teach me to run and wring my hands, and whining won’t solve anything.”
He glared at her, but finally gave up and sighed. “Fine. You will call and you will be careful.” Papa Leth kicked something, his boot colliding with—probably Edzard’s body. “And see if Drek will give you a better bodyguard.”
“He held his own.” Papa Al tossed that in, which was high praise coming from her father.