“Guys, this is a tattoo parlor not an ambush. Is there something I can help you with?”
Blondie whispered something over his shoulder then turned back to me, ambling closer. “Don’t mind them.”
All three of them took a seat on the sectional, stiff as boards and on full alert.
“Name please?” I asked again.
“It’s Shane. And you’re Violet Savoie.” His smile was sincere even as his gaze flicked around the room searchingly before returning back to me.
“Nico isn’t here, Shane. Would you like to leave him a message?”
He stepped forward, stopping inches from me, a little closer than I’d like, but I wasn’t about to show unnecessary aggression. Not unless I had to.
“I’m not here for him. I’m here for you.” His gaze swept over me, the brown of his eyes ringed in gold. “Is there some place we can talk?”
“Want me to call Nico?” Sean butted in.
Damn. That kid didn’t scare easy. These guys could rip him apart if they wanted to, but he didn’t bat an eye at their menacing stares.
“No need, Sean. We’ll be in my workspace.”
I led Shane into my room and toward a table with two chairs on either side. This is where I’d discuss the details of the tattoo my client was looking for. But rather than follow me, Shane stretched out in my reclining chair where I gave the tattoos, crossing his arms behind his head. Since it would’ve been stupid for me to sit at the table so far away, I sat in my rolling chair next to the recliner.
“What do you want?”
He chuckled. “Is that how you greet all your clients?”
“You’re not a client. You’re a former friend of my business partner who’s pissing all over my tattoo shop.”
“Not pissing yet,” he said, all teeth, his canines a tad long.
I crossed my arms. This dickweasel had his wolf half ready to shift while he had the audacity to sit and smile in my fucking chair.
“Look, Shane. I’m aware that you think you’re a big bad wolf and your coming in here with your pack of dogs is meant to be some sort of intimidating display of prowess. But I’m not intimidated. Or impressed. What the fuck do you want?”
His charming smile slipped. Good, dickhead. Now get to the point.
He sat up in the chair, dropping one leg to the floor where he hooked his boot on the bar of my rolling chair and hauled me closer. He was so damn lucky he’d done that slowly. I would’ve knocked him across the room if he’d reached out too fast. But this was strangely slow and…seductive? What the hell was all this alpha fanfare about?
“Word is,” he said, easing a hand onto the arm of my chair, “that you’re giving special tattoos to supernaturals.”
What the hell? How did he know that?
An incredulous “excuse me” was all that came out of my mouth.
“Don’t play dumb.”
“Where’d you hear this?”
He gave me a not-so-nice smile. “On the SuperNet. Where else?”
I stared at him, dumbfounded. The Supernatural Net, often called the SuperNet or SuperWeb, was an underground network that only supernaturals had the codes and access to. It was highly protected from hackers by the most brilliant grims in computer tech. If humans ever leaked through, they’d get a swift visit from a vampire who’d wipe their memories. And their hard drives.
“Oh, no.” It finally dawned on me. Livvy. We’d talked about advertising on the SuperNet, but not this soon. I wasn’t ready! What the hell? Shit, I needed to text her to pull that down.
I jolted as Shane stroked his index finger over the back of my wrist. He’d reached out while I’d zoned out, trying to figure out how the hell he knew.
I arched a brow at him, pushing my rolling stool a few inches back.
“Is it true?” he asked unflinchingly, golden eyes watchful.
I wasn’t sure why his wolf was on full alert or pushing him so hard right now, but that was another reason to make slow, calming movements.
“It’s not a big secret,” I finally said. “Though I didn’t know my sister had advertised yet.”
“So these tattoos are permanent spells, right? They can help supernaturals with what they want?”
“Look, I’ve only just perfected the charm for Auras. Each spell is specific to the supernatural and their magic. It’s not like I can permanently spell love potions or some shit like that. It doesn’t work that way.”
I was more than anxious to know what kind of charm a werewolf with that look of menace in his eyes might want.
He laughed cynically. “It’s not a love potion I want.”
“What is it you want exactly?”
He swiveled his legs around and planted them on the floor, leaning closer with his elbows on his knees.
“Have you created a spell for werewolves yet?” Before I could answer, he curled his lip with a touch of disgust. “Probably not. I’ll bet we’re lowest on your priorities.”
Offended, I crossed my arms and scowled back at him. “You don’t know anything about me.”
His expression went cold, rigid. “Known enough of your kind. The only way to get something we need from witches is to take it.”
The harsh words and icy tone rose the hairs on the back of my neck.
“Listen, Shane,” I said as calmly as I could, knowing his wolf was riding him hard at the moment. The last thing I needed was this guy and his buddies shifting into werewolves right now. Werewolves had to shift at least once a month at the full moon, but they didn’t need the moon to shift. One more reason they were feared and ostracized by most supernaturals. “This isn’t just a potion in a bottle you can take. It’s a complex incantation and a kind of magic that hasn’t been practiced in decades, maybe centuries.”
“And you’re the only one practicing it?” He lifted his brows, the menace leaking away with a note of amusement. This guy’s Jekyll and Hyde mood swings were giving me whiplash.
“I’m actually trying to figure out the right spell for werewolves right now. That’s what I’m currently working on.” I almost added jackass but was trying to keep him calm so I refrained from my normal name-calling. “Nico has volunteered to help me.”
Well, he never said as much exactly, but I knew he’d let me experiment on him till I got it right. Nico seemed to always help me when I needed it. My heart clenched at that thought.
“I’ll bet he has.” The darkness faded from Shane’s gaze, but it was still hard, unrelenting.
Wow, if I could bottle the amount of disdain in that sentence, it would fill twenty jars.
“I’m working on it,” I assured him. “It’s not easy, these spells. I have no one to teach me, so I’m figuring it out.”
“How long?”
“I don’t know.”
“Give me a timeframe.”
“I can’t do that.”
“Because you’re lying,” he accused and stood abruptly.
“I’m not lying.”
“Need help in here?” It was Tom. Even though Shane had fifty pounds in muscle on him, Tom looked like he could and would take him if necessary. But I could take him and his pups up front if I needed to. Still, the heroic gesture made me want to hug Tom, even if he wasn’t the hugging type.
“We’re all good. Shane was just leaving.”
The werewolf latched his hand around my wrist, not to hurt but to get my attention. “I’ll be back.”
“Sure thing, Terminator. And I’ll be right here when you do.”
“You’re not afraid of me.” He actually sniffed the air. Probably was using his wolfie senses to detect my heartrate and so forth.
“Not at all.” I glared right back. “You should probably be afraid of me.”
An ancient vibration thrummed through my body, packing electricity in my pores as if I had a one-way connection to a lightning bolt. A shift in the air, emanating from me, billowed my hair off my shoulders. I popped my neck and exhaled slowly, willing the primal pulse of my magic to simmer
. The Tarot empress tattoo on my forearm heated my skin.
Glancing down, I caught the slightest shift of her head and eyes, moving mystically, the inked moon above her brightening under my skin.
This was the first tattoo I’d given myself using charmed ink. It wasn’t until after I’d given myself the tattoo that an incantation came to me in a dream. It was the same night I’d held that book by Marigold Lord. Ever since then, the empress on my arm had become like a guardian, warning me when I needed to heed a particular vision or premonition. Or when danger was near. Like now.
Shane released my wrist with a huff, staring down at my arm with a bit of shock and surprise. This wolf had no idea who he was dealing with. That became more obvious when he belted out a cynical laugh, probably thinking his eyes were playing tricks on him or that I was only joking that he should be afraid. Or both. I wasn’t, but whatever.
With a clenching of his jaw and another death glare, he marched for the lobby. I followed him out then waited by the register until he and his goons had left the shop.
“Is that something we need to worry about?” asked Tom, appearing in the lobby.
“Nope,” I assured him.
“Good.” Then he returned to his workspace.
Sean glared at the door where they’d left, the stern expression so foreign to his usual demeanor. He looked a lot like his brother when he did that.
“You sure about that?” he asked.
“Nope.”
“Want me to get Henry to watch the place?”
“No need. I can take care of it myself.”
“A single werewolf is dangerous,” he said, like I didn’t already know this. “A whole pack is lethal. I can guarantee you that those four aren’t the entire pack. There’ll be more.”
It was true. While all of the other supernaturals—witches, vampires, and grim reapers—had a solid governing body with hierarchy of heads of houses and covens, the werewolves did not. They were mostly loners except for those who traveled in packs, which was about as organized as they ever became.
“You can ask Henry to find out how many are in town. I’ll report to Jules.”
“On it.” He pulled out his phone and started texting.
While I was positive I could take on any number of werewolves all by my little self, I was also aware that a pack roaming New Orleans with trouble on their minds was not good. Jules was going to be pissed about this, and I could only imagine how Nico was going to react.
Chapter 8
~NICO~
* * *
I’d made myself scarce. I hadn’t lied to Violet. I had errands to run but, honestly, I could’ve gone grocery shopping for my full-moon trip later. I’d found reasons to stay away from Empress Ink all day, because having Violet in my home had upset my entire being.
I’d grown accustomed to being around her and ignoring my attraction. It had become easy to tell my dick he wasn’t getting any whenever he perked up around Violet.
But hell. Having her wander through my private domain, eat my food, sit on my furniture. It had made me want to lock the door and never let her leave. Now that was a crazy thought.
So wandering the neighborhood and doing any possible little miscellaneous thing, like browsing the liquor store to stock up for my couple days in the woods, seemed the right thing to do.
After putting the box of six bottles of whiskey in my trunk, I thought maybe I was going overboard for a three-day trip.
The bottles rattled in the back of my Jeep as I pulled it into my driveway behind the shop.
Mateo had texted and said he was coming by, which I’d totally forgotten about. He hadn’t been by since we’d made renovations to the shop, and I wanted to commission a piece from him, a metal rendition of the logo, to stand in the center of the lobby.
Besides, I was being preposterous, I realized as I opened my door. There was no reason to be so territorial over—
Who in the fuck was that?
A feral growl rumbled in my chest as the distinct whiff of werewolves hit my nostrils.
Leaving the back hatch of the Jeep gaping open, I followed the scent in long strides all the way to the front door of the shop where it was the strongest.
My wolf raged and pushed me to shift and rip open the door, but I shook my head, knocking some sense into him. For now.
Still, I was less than gentle when I swung it wide and stepped into the lobby. Sean was the only one up front, his gaze shooting to mine. He held up his hands in a calming gesture, “It’s okay, Nico. Nothing happened.”
But I could barely hear what he was saying over the raw ache to shift. The buzzing of rage heated my blood and filled me with the need to bite and claw.
Interlopers. Invaders. Frenzied fury burned through my blood. I wandered along the sofa, smelling the familiar scents of the guys from the Blood Moon pack. Then a very distinct one hit me, and it was coming from…Violet’s workspace.
A guttural growl vibrated in my chest, my sight and other senses intensifying in a blink. I knew good and well my eyes were glowing when Sean murmured “oh, shit” under his breath as I stormed by him.
When I stepped into her workspace, she was alone, but his scent was still there. She was sitting at her desk in the corner, sketching. Her eyes rounded when she saw me.
“Nico?”
I strode toward her in three long steps, narrowing in on the source. Grabbing her hand, I leaned over and lifted it to my nose, then skated up to her wrist.
There. That motherfucker.
“Nico.”
Her voice was low and soft as I tugged her forward and smelled her hair, along her neck, across her shoulder. I needed to be sure he hadn’t touched her anywhere else.
“You need to calm down.”
No. Just the wrist. I swept my nose along her skin, the silky texture barely distracting me as I double-checked that it was indeed Shane touching my territory.
“Nico.”
I snapped my gaze to hers, realizing my wolf had taken over. Even so, I couldn’t peel my fingers from around her wrist, subconsciously swiping my thumb across the delicate webwork of veins, needing to wipe away his scent.
“When was Shane here?”
Oh, fuck. My voice was so deep. I was riding a razor’s edge, literally about to shift right then and there. Glancing at my hand, I saw my nails had already transformed to black claws and were now abrading her silky skin. I flinched and dropped her wrist, then backed away.
She stood slowly. “It’s alright. No need to go wolfie,” she teased, even though her expression was a touch hard and grave.
Magic saturated the room. And not my kind. It was hers I tasted in the air, ready to erupt if necessary. I was aware she was a strong telekinetic on top of her clairvoyance, and I was pretty damn sure she was preparing to use her magic on me. Against me.
Pain, sharp and piercing, cut through my chest.
“Fuck,” I growled, backing all the way to the wall, pressing the heels of my hands to my closed eyes, willing my blood to stop boiling to the surface.
The image of Ty flashed through my mind. His wide eyes, his fear, the bloody wound opening up his throat and shoulder.
“It’s okay.” She was close now, but I didn’t dare open my eyes, afraid I’d grab her and bite her.
Because that’s all I could think about right now, marking the fuck out of her so no other wolf could come walking in here, thinking he could touch her.
I was truly lost. This was so bad. We weren’t even dating, but my emotions were a roaring avalanche of mine, mine, mine.
“Easy,” she whispered.
I winced when her hands brushed up my arms to my shoulders then back down. Then up again. Soft and slow.
“Everything’s okay,” she said again in that breezy, lovely way.
Almost immediately, I felt the raging heat retreating. She had no idea how close I’d been to losing myself entirely. Nor did she know how quickly she’d calmed the beast.
My claws retracted, while my
heart slowed to normal. It took intense concentration to beat back the trembling urge to shift. Her gentle voice soothed the beast.
That was another thing about Violet. While her words were often crass and hard and profane, the timbre of her voice resonated with a raspy, musical quality that penetrated through centuries-old beastly DNA. If there was such a thing as a werewolf whisperer, she was it. Or maybe it was just me who responded to her in this way. The idea of other werewolves finding pleasure in the sound of her crooning voice lit another flame of fury in my gut.
“You’re okay,” she went on, murmuring soft assurances that all was well.
Still, I waited with eyes closed, sucking in deep breaths, fighting my wolf, swallowing the need to stake a claim that would prove to Violet that I was the wild animal all supernaturals thought us to be.
“It’s all fine.” Her lovely hands drifted up to my shoulders, her thumbs pressing at the base of my neck, a massaging squeeze before sweeping away again. The smell of her so close was doing the trick as much as her hands on my body and soft words, gentling the beast.
If I could open my eyes, grab hold of her waist, and pull her into me, hug her slender frame to mine, that would be the greatest feeling in the wide, wide world. The sweetest balm to my overheated brain and body.
But we were friends, right? I’d said it this morning at breakfast because it was true.
It was also true that I wanted us to be far more than that, but I was afraid of losing this right here if I crossed a line she didn’t want to cross with me. I’d rather have this than nothing at all. It needed to be her who made the first move. Not me.
I finally opened my eyes to find those gorgeous blue ones peering up at me, the most tender expression of concern on her face. I couldn’t help but smile.
I’d never seen her look worried about anything. Pissed off, yes. Frustrated, yes. Furious, lots of times. But anxious about someone? Never.
“I’m okay,” I said. The rustiness of my voice proved I’d nearly transformed, the internal shift having partially completed before I could stop it.
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