by Renee George
My dad wiggled his eyebrows and grinned. "Every minute is hot with you, doll."
"Ewww!" I looked at my parents. "You know your sexcapades are what forced me to get my own place when I was twenty."
"I can't help it if your dad is a lusty beast," Mom said.
"I can't hear this." A hacking sound drew my attention. Simon had coughed up a furball. "My sentiments exactly." I stood up. "This is as good as I'm getting tonight. If his Majesty Monty doesn't like me, then he can sit on a wand and twirl."
"Ahhhhhhhhhh!" A loud scream echoed through my parent's house.
"Brita Jean Davis!" Mom exclaimed. She only used my whole name when she was seriously unhappy with me.
"I didn't mean--" But her and my father were already racing downstairs. I followed after, barely able to keep up. In the living room, four men were circling a fifth spinning man with a thin stick protruding from his backside as his outstretched feet knocked a lamp off the side table.
"Get me down!" he yelled.
I clamped my hand over my mouth as my mother gave me a harsh glare.
"Do it now," she mouthed.
"I take it back, undo this attack, hex no more on this stupid bore," I said under my breath. No sense in drawing attention to the fact that I'm the reason he was riding a reedy piece of wood.
The warlock crashed to the floor right after the wand disappeared from his ass, thank the Goddess. The four men with him hauled him to his feet.
"What in the Goddess name?"
"I'm so sorry," my mother said. "I have no idea what happened." She projected pure, innocent shock, a look she'd perfected after years of acting like something I said hadn't caused a disaster.
He shot razor daggers at me as his men, all spitting on the floor and while one held up what looked like an amethyst escorted him from the house. All except one. The tallest of the four, a guy nearly as broad as my father, gave me a smirk and slight shake of his head. His startling green eyes, the color of clover after a hard rain, made my skin buzz. He was too rough and tumble for a warlock, which meant he had to be a Shifter. He gave me a slight nod before following after Monty and the others.
When the door closed, I plopped down on the couch and rested my head against the back. "Well, that went well for a first meeting." I forced a bright shiny smile.
Mom groaned. "You're staining my couch."
I got up. A greasy blackish-green stain marred the cream-colored upholstery. Simon jumped up on the arm and said, "It looks like someone wiped their ass with the sofa."
Ash jumped up next to him. My mother put her hand on the gray cat. "Let what's seen at once be clean," my mother incanted. Her aura brightened as the skid mark dissolved, and the couch was pristine once again. She pursed her lips. "Go home, Brita. I'll figure out what to do about Monty, but it's probably best if you don't see him until the festival tomorrow night."
"Or, I could just not see him at all." I shrugged. "I mean, I can't embarrass you if I'm not there."
"You will show up on time and presentable," Mom said. "Give Monty a chance. At least, be cordial."
My dad came up from behind me and put his large hands on my shoulders. "Your mother is a freight train, Snickerdoodle," he said, using the nickname he gave me as a baby because he said I smelled like the cinnamon spiced cookie. "Get on board or get run over."
I sighed and rolled my eyes. My protest was only half-genuine, though. The green-eyed Shifter intrigued me, and I was curious to find out more about him. "Fine. I'll be the epitome of cordial when it comes to Montrose Abadose."
"Go home, Brit." My mother caressed my face. "Get some sleep. Tomorrow is a big day."
Chapter Two
I did not go home. Not straight away. Instead, I took a short detour to the Trash Bin Bar & Grill. After the day I'd had with my parents, I needed a drink or four to take the edge off. Bobby Lintz, a wereraccoon and one of my brother's high school buddies, owned the place. It had a backroom full of pool tables, a dartboard, and a shuffleboard. Games to fuel a Shifter's need for competition without inciting violence. Still, fights broke out. You couldn't live with the two-natured and not expect the occasional brawl.
It was Friday night, my first night off after a forty-eight-hour shift at work, and I wanted at least one evening of fun before the festival celebration.
"It's the goddess Cerridwen," Bobby shouted from behind the bar when I walked in, and several customers raised their glasses to cheer me inside.
I walked over to Bobby. "Thanks for that, pal."
"Anytime." He was a shorter fellow, about five-seven in height. His eyes looked like he was permanently tired, which had more to do with his animal than the amount of time he spent working every day. He put a peach wine cooler in front of me and smiled. "You'll do great tomorrow. Relax."
"Thanks, Bobby." I grabbed the cooler and headed toward the game area. Martin Scotts and Jerald Wright, two of my work buddies, were shooting a game. I placed three quarters on the side of the table. "I got winner," I said. I sat at an empty table near the game and watched as the matchup went on.
"Hello, princess," a man said from behind me.
I glanced back to see the startling green eyes from my parent's living room.
"Hello," I said back. "What are you doing here?"
"Can I sit with you?
"Sure. It's a free country. Sort of." I looked around the bar to see if Abadose was here as well. I felt a little guilty about my inadvertent curse, and I wasn't very good at lying when it counted. "Where's the rest of your little party?"
"At the Hibernation Hotel."
Jack and Melissa Smooth, a bear shifter couple, owned the hotel. It was log cabin rustic with a lot of charm. "Is it a nice place? I've never stayed there."
"I'd be happy to show you my room." His lips formed a half smile that melted my panties.
"What kind of girl do you think I am?"
"I don't know," he said. "But I'm trying to figure it out."
"Aren't you afraid you're going to piss off your boss? After all, I'm supposed to be his date this weekend."
"How do you know he didn't send me to find you?"
"Did he?"
The guy shook his head, his dark hair spilling over his eyes. "Nope."
"You know who I am, so I think it's only fair you tell me who you are?"
"Cas," he said.
"As in Casanova. The great Latin lothario?"
"Sure," he said. "Just like him."
It felt as if Bobby had cranked the heat in the room because suddenly, my back and my boobs were sweating. "It is me or is it hot in here?"
The warlock's lackey smiled. "It's you. He said. You are definitely hot."
He likes me! my inner-vagina monologue shouted. But my skeptical brain worried he was poking fun at my expense. So instead of flirting back, I said, "I don't make out with roadkill." Insults were my preferred method of birth control.
"Excuse me?"
"You're hideously disfigured with all those weird bulges on your body," I told him. "You must know this about yourself."
"You mean my muscles?" He laughed, and damn, the sound stirred up all my sexy bits.
"Go back to sleep," I muttered to the traitorous, throbbing parts. "Is that what you call them. Someone has put in way too many hours at the gym. I like my men skinnier."
"Let me guess, you only date giraffes?"
"Exactly. And since this isn't Africa, and you don't have a long neck, I think it's safe to assume that you are not my type."
"Uh, huh. I think your increased pulse, respiration, and hard nipples are saying I'm exactly your type.
I crossed my arms over my chest. "It's cold in here."
"Is that why you're sweating?"
"You want to get punched, right?"
He raised his hands in surrender. "Hey, remember. Casanova here. I'm a lover not a fighter, darling."
He had scars on his arms and lean muscles built for speed and power, told me he was full of shit. At least where the "not a fighter" part w
as concerned. "You lie a lot."
He sipped his beer then said, "That makes two of us."
"What have I lied about?"
"Me not being your type." Cas's eyes softened, he leaned forward, closing the distance between his lips and mine. I trembled at his game of chicken trying not to be the first to swerve.
He reached up and twirled my gooped hair. To his credit, his expression only changed slightly for a quick second before he was back to bedroom eyes.
"What are you doing?" I asked through gritted teeth, worried that if I moved I might accidentally fall against his lips with mine.
"I'm not your type, huh?"
"Nope," I said. "Not at all."
He brushed his thumb over my chin. Reflexively, I licked my dry lips. Cas chuckled.
"I'm everyone's type."
I blew out a breath I'd been holding, trying hard not to bluster, because a) he was not wrong, and b) no way in hell I would ever let him know.
"You want to make out with me now, don't you?"
I did, but I didn't tell him that. "You're nuts. Have you tried this out on every girl in the bar? And has it scored you any lip action?"
The guy grinned. "You're the first. I'm thinking I'm going to have to refine my technique."
For a second, I considered the man's offer. Making out wasn't going all the way. Besides, I'd been celibate for two years since the werefox I'd dated since high school dumped me for his "soul mate," and I was beginning to feel like a reborn virgin. Whatever, though, his loss, not mine. The guy had been clingy and a bit judgy. Maybe I would give Mr. Green Eyes a quick tumble. After all, it wasn't like I would ever see him again after the weekend was over. It didn't even matter that he worked for the warlock here to woo me. I wouldn't be seeing him after this weekend either.
I felt a tingle of magic in the room and automatically looked around guiltily for my mom. I didn't see her though. With all the strangers in town for the Cauldron Festival, there was no telling whose power I'd felt, though."
From the pool area, a ruckus started up. "You tapped the ball," Jerald shouted.
Martin shoved him. "I didn't touch it. It rolled on its own. It doesn't count, asshole."
Uh oh. Jerald threw a punch that spun Martin in my direction. Four more guys got in the action and fists, and pool sticks were flying. I sharp pain on the back of my head made me yelp. It felt as if my hair had been pulled out at the roots. Casanova grabbed me up and carried me to the hall, placing his body between me and the action as all hell broke loose around the pool tables.
“I didn’t ask for your help,” I whispered harshly. This close it was hard to miss the man's broad cheeks, square jaw, and wide, yummy kissable lips. On top of that, I could feel that he was dauntingly large, his shoulders were broader than most the guys I worked with, and he was professional football player tall. Dude missed his calling as a linebacker. On top of that, he smelled really good. Like a spring dew on new grass. "And I don’t want your help.”
“What do you want from me then?” he asked. "I'm a full-service kind of guy." His deep voice excited me to the core.
I clenched my thighs together in defiance, scrunched my nose at him and sniffed. “I can take care of myself.” He pulled me to his body, and, mercy, and the scent of him triggered a deep need for hanky panky. “Stop,” I panted softly.
He pressed his lips to my ear and whispered, “Goddess damned, you're beautiful.”
I felt the definition in every muscle that pressed me, including the one bulging against my stomach. Damn, tonight, I was going to have to burn my fantasy-soaked panties and take a really long, cold shower... once I ditched him, of course. I heard Bobby shouting down the fight. “I think it’s safe now. You can let me go.”
The beer sign light reflected in his eyes, and it made them look like they were twinkling with mischief. "I'd really like to kiss you."
My mouth watered. "I'd really like--" Nope. No. Not even. I would not make out with this guy. I would go home like my mother had instructed. "Goodnight, handsome."
"I thought you said I was hideous."
I smiled. "You are." I patted his chest, lingering with my fingertips over his hard muscle just a little too long, then snapped my fingers and reappeared in my own house.
"Shyla!" I yelled for my roommate. "I'm home."
"So, tell me about the warlock? Is he a douche-nozzle like we suspected? He sucked, right? You're not interested in him, are you?" Shyla Connor, a curvy, brunette wolf shifter and my oldest friend rapid-fired questions at me faster than one of Baba Yaga's inquisitors.
"I barely saw him," I said evasively. How in the world could I tell my BFF that I'd hexed a wand up my potential suitor's butt? Besides, the only guy on my mind was a certain egotistical Shifter. The cold shower hadn't put out the fire in my va-jay-jay the way I'd hoped, and I was considering kicking everyone out of the bedroom to take care of myself.
Simon curled up in my arms, pressed his paw to my cheek and squinted his eyes at me. "Dear Goddess, it's ten o'clock at night. Please make her stop," he said, his voice full of irritation. Simon had been less than a pound when we were paired, and after all these years, he still liked to be held like a baby and rocked to sleep. And, like a baby, he was cranky when tired.
"Shy, can we talk about this tomorrow? It's one of my few nights home, and considering the festival starts tomorrow, along with the circus of a parade my mother has planned for me, I really just want to go to bed."
"Come on. You don't have to be at the station for three whole days. Skip the sleep. Besides, I've been sitting at the computer all day and night, working on a deadline. I need face time with my bestie."
Shyla was an artist for a major publishing house. Human, of course, but since she worked from home and turned everything in over the internet, it didn't matter who paid her. "What was it this time? Alien lovers or vampire vixens?"
She laughed. "Neither. It was a hot highlander."
An image of Mr. Green Eyes in a kilt and nothing else flashed into my head. "Wowza."
"Damn, straight," Shy agreed. "It was pretty sexy. The author loves it." She grabbed a pillow from the head of my bed and slumped down next to me, folding the pillow under her. "I don't want to talk about my stuff. I'm bored." She nudged me with her elbow. "Amuse me."
Simon blinked up at me, flexed his claws so that his razor-sharp claws poked into my skin. "Make her leave, Brita."
"Look, Grouchball," Shy said. "You've had her all day. It's my turn now."
Simon's tail swished hard against Shyla's shoulder. "I'm her familiar. I get her aaalllll the time."
Shyla smacked her lips. "He's so territorial."
I scratched the long white fur on Simon's tummy. "Don't pick on him. He's sensitive."
Boom! The thundering noise shook the house. Simon dug his claws into me before scrambling from my lap and scurrying under the bed.
Shyla was on her feet. "What the heck, Brit?"
"I didn't do it." We ran to the window. Flames licked the sky on the far side of town. "It's a fire!" I know I sounded more excited than I should, but this was a real blazer. I pulled jeans and a tank top from my drawers."
"What are you doing?"
"It's a fire," I said shrugging my pants on while trying to fit my bra at the same time. "I'm not going to let the guys at the station get all the glory."
She crossed her arms over her chest. "You're hopeless." Shy threw up her hands. "Fine. I'm going with you. It'll be like we're having a girl's night."
"Fire," I repeated while yanking on my boots. "I have to go, or they'll have it out before I get there. Do you want me to tell Lukas hello?"
Shyla blushed as dimples accented her apple cheeks. Lukas is my brother, born completely wolf Shifter, no witch powers, and he was the object of desire for my bestie. Like me, he worked at the fire department as well.
"Just go," she said. "I'll drive myself."
"Suit yourself." I smiled, snapped my fingers, and I was out of my bedroom and standing next to
large propane tank only ten feet from the super-heated fire in a large field of propane tanks. "Fuck me."
Chapter Three
Shouting happened next, then a large something, felt like a Shifter-sized Mack truck, barreled into me and away from the gas as it exploded with another earth-shaking BOOM!
The explosion sucked all the air from around us for a moment, and I couldn't breathe. When the flames kicked back, and the air became breathable again, I wrinkled my nose at the scent of burned hair and flesh mixed with something less pungent and more appealing, something that reminded me of my childhood. Sweet clover. Strange.
"You can get off me now," I yelled to my rescuer over the calamity of shouts and sirens. "I'm fine."
He didn't move. Instead, he seemed to get even heavier. I reached around his waist to pat his back. His t-shirt was singed, and he groaned as my fingers grazed several deep burns. I snapped my fingers, and I was no longer under him, but standing over him. It was Casanova from the bar. Why in Goddess's name had he been at the fire in the first place? I looked around for help, but our small brigade of firefighters was occupied with trying to stop the spread before more tanks exploded.
Casanova's back looked even worse than I initially assessed. He had several third-degree burns and, even in the dark, I could see blood on the back of his head. While Shifters healed faster than humans, they still needed to see healers for major injuries, but first was first. I needed to get this guy out of danger. He looked to be about six-feet-four-inches, which made him a good seven inches taller than me, and he outweighed me by a one-hundred plus pounds.
I began to chant a strength spell as I tried to lift the unconscious man, my magic groaning at the effort. What the hell? I saw Lukas nearby with a water hose aimed in our direction. I waved to get his attention. His eyes bugged when he saw me. He handed off the hose to Rosalee, a werebear in our unity, and ran to me.
"What in two kinds of hell are you doing here?" he demanded.
"I saw the fire."
"So, you pop yourself into the middle of it? You know better. Besides, you're off duty, Brit. When dad finds out about this--" He finally noticed the injured man and leaned down to feel for a pulse. "Rapid, but strong. Who is this?"