I reached up my hands to place them on her hips but then thought better of it. Straightening, I shifted sideways slowly, letting her hands drop from me. Again, a tiny stab to the solar plexus jarred my senses.
“You sure?” she asked, her expression still soft but now a little smile twisting her lips.
“Mmhmm.” I nodded, tucking my shaking hands into the front pockets of my jeans.
“I need to figure out that werewolf spell quick, don’t I?” This softer side of Violet had me weakening further for her, wanting to cradle her close.
“Yeah.” I cleared my rusty throat. “You can see now why that would be really helpful.” I tried not to sound sardonic, but I did anyway.
She propped a hand on her hip and teased, “Thought I was going to get to see what the real-life American Werewolf in London looked like.”
That was the Violet I knew. Each word was edged with a hint of playful sarcasm. Though I didn’t like that the soft Violet had retreated, I was also glad she was treating me like normal. Not some bomb about to spontaneously combust.
Then she asked, “You okay?” Her brows raised high and her head tilted, sincerity etched in her expression.
“Completely fine.”
“Completely, huh?”
“One hundred percent.”
“So I can talk to you about your buddy, Shane, without you losing your shit now?”
The door in the lobby opened. Sean greeted someone.
“He’s not my buddy. Not anymore.”
“I got that feeling. He—”
A sudden snarl from the lobby. “Where are they?”
“What the hell now?” Violet turned toward the door.
“Mateo,” I answered on a sigh, following her back into the lobby.
Of the two of us, Mateo has always been the cool and controlled one. I should say had always been. Until this witch put a curse on him that had changed him permanently. Sort of.
When the curse prevented him from shifting each month, his wolf rose to the surface, speaking to him like his own personal little devil on his shoulder. I found it fascinating since my own wolf never actually spoke to me. We were much more aligned as one and the same, not separate entities. Which was why I’d always been cautious, especially after that tragedy with Ty.
The problem for Mateo was that after the curse was broken, his wolf, Alpha as he liked to be called, didn’t go away. Mateo was still the thoughtful, sensitive artist, but Alpha often exerted his presence when he sensed a threat. Like he apparently did now.
He was leaning over the sofa, sniffing the back cushion. He jerked up, moved down the sofa, and did the same to the next cushion.
Evie was parked at the front counter where Sean watched in fascination, his eyes darting to Evie. Couldn’t blame him. Her long auburn hair was pulled back in a ponytail, highlighting her pretty heart-shaped face. She was dressed casually, much like her sister Violet, jeans and a T-shirt that read The Dark Side made me do it.
Mateo suddenly stood straight and turned on us, staring at Violet with raging intensity. He strode over, but before he could reach out and grab her hand to smell her wrist—because I knew exactly where this was going—I stepped in front of him and put a hand to his chest.
“Settle down, man.”
“Where’d they go?” His eyes were full-on carnivorous gold, his voice barrel-deep.
“Christ. Is this what I looked like a few minutes ago?”
“Worse,” said Violet, peeking around my shoulder.
“They’re not here,” I assured him, which eased his intensity by a single small notch.
“Who are they?”
I heaved out a sigh, knowing he was going to rip into me. “It was some of the Blood Moon pack.”
“Blood Moon?” Sean snorted. “Seriously? Can we be any more cliché?”
“Those assholes? I thought you were finished with them,” Mateo accused.
“I was.” Then, “I am,” I clarified. “No idea why they’re in town.”
Evie hopped up to sit on the counter, completely unfazed by her boyfriend’s frenzied behavior. “Alpha, they’re not here, so cool your jets.” Interesting that she knew when to address his wolf.
And just like that, Mateo relaxed, rolling his neck to pop it. But then he asked, still gruff, “What do they want?”
“That’s what I was about to find out when you stormed in.” I turned to Violet. “Well?”
She shrugged one shoulder. “He was asking about my charmed tattoos.”
“How the hell did he know about your ability to do that?” I growled.
She sighed, looking a little despondent. “Apparently, Livvy posted something of an ad on the SuperNet about it.”
“Already?” I snapped.
“It wasn’t her fault really. I remember us talking about it, but I’d thought I made it clear I was still experimenting. I didn’t want to promote it yet. Which reminds me.” She pulled her phone from her back pocket and started texting.
A sharp tug of force pinched my chest as I thought of Shane returning and harassing her. “You’re not to be in the same room with him or any of them without me.”
“Don’t worry about them,” she said swiftly, still texting Livvy.
I clenched my jaw so tight I heard something pop. My urge to dominate the situation—and her—was overriding all reason.
“They’re dangerous,” I added.
She huffed out a laugh. “I can handle them.”
Then I dropped my voice low, taking a step closer to her. “But I don’t want you to.”
She put her phone back in her jeans pocket. A pinch between her brow was the only response as she soaked in my words.
Mateo stepped up between us. “I don’t want a pack of fucking werewolves in our neighborhood, sniffing around my—”
Evie’s laugh filled the lobby. She was leaning back on her hands, looking at Sean and laughing at something he was saying. He had that usual Sean smirk as he propped his upper body over the counter really close to Evie, whispering in a far too intimate way.
A growl rumbled in Mateo’s chest.
“He’s just a kid,” I assured him.
But, apparently, in Mateo’s state, or rather in Alpha’s, that didn’t matter. He marched across the lobby and took Evie’s hand, then tugged her gently and firmly off the counter, shooting a death-stare at Sean who didn’t seem to mind at all. Then Mateo scoured the lobby before he marched toward the partitions.
“Do you want a tour?” asked Violet.
I sighed. “He doesn’t want a tour.”
“What’s he doing then?”
He returned from Violet’s workspace in two seconds then headed up the hallway toward the office area in long strides.
“We’ll be right back,” Evie called over her shoulder lightly, still being pulled around behind him as he stormed down the hall.
“What are they doing?” Poor Violet was so confused. There was a lot she didn’t yet understand about werewolves.
The music that usually played over the speaker system I’d installed throughout the shop was on Violet’s nineties playlist, currently pumping out Pearl Jam.
“Sean, turn the music up.”
“Why?” asked Violet just as Mateo opened the storage closet, pulled Evie in behind him, and slammed the door. “Are werewolves always this weird?”
It wasn’t strange at all if she understood our true nature. When a pack of werewolves came wandering into our territory, we wanted one thing. To enforce our dominance over what was ours. Short of pissing a circle around Evie, he was doing the next best thing.
There was a bump of something falling in the storage closet, then a rhythmic bang against the wall and Evie’s somewhat stifled moans. But with my hearing, it was clear as day.
Violet snorted. “You’re kidding me.”
Sean turned the music up, but her moans got louder. So he turned up the music again.
“What’s going on?” It was Tom, standing in the lobby. “I can ba
rely hear myself think in there.”
“Sean.” Lindsey walked up the hallway from her workspace, the farthest away from the lobby. “Can you turn that down a little?”
Then all of us looked down the hall as a crescendo of moans peaked and the pounding against the storage room wall sped up with loud thumps. Something else crashed to the floor but the banging—literally—kept on going. Then it stopped altogether, the sexual groans subsiding.
Sean turned down the music, his grin saying everything. “Epic.”
Lindsey, wide-eyed and blushing nearly purple, turned around abruptly and headed back to her room.
The closet door wrenched open, and Mateo stepped out holding Evie’s hand and guiding her back to the lobby with a swagger.
Evie’s ponytail was askew, her lips swollen, and there was a reddish bite mark on her neck. She looked sex-rumpled and sated.
I was so damn jealous my head was about to pop off. Not that Mateo had fucked Evie and marked his woman in the closet, but because I wanted to do the same to Violet.
“Fucking werewolves,” muttered Tom with a shake of his head and headed back to his workspace.
“Sorry,” Evie said to Violet with a somewhat penitent expression.
Mateo didn’t look remorseful at all. That smug son of a bitch let out a satisfied sigh and said casually, “Ready for the tour.”
“Well”—Violet cleared her throat—“you know where the supply closet is, so why don’t I show you where the magic is done?”
“We just saw that, too,” said Mateo, his voice back to its usual smooth timbre.
Evie snickered. Mateo smiled down at her, lascivious as ever, tugging her close to wrap a hand around her hip.
Violet stepped close and pointed a finger at them. “No more fucking in my shop,” she hissed. “This is a place of business. You’re not some damn teenagers. You can wait till you get home.”
“Yes, ma’am.” Mateo’s smile hadn’t slipped one single millimeter.
When Violet’s gaze slid to mine as they walked away, I was struck with an unusual and awesome discovery. There wasn’t just anger and aggravation gleaming from those bright blue eyes, but another emotion that punched me with devastating force. Lust.
Was it because that little display triggered her arousal in general? Or was it because she was imagining us doing the same thing? Like I was. Sooner rather than later, I was going to find out.
Chapter 9
~VIOLET~
* * *
“Did he actually start to shift?” asked Jules.
Ironically, Jules was the oldest of my sisters and the most powerful, but also the smallest in stature. Her short, bobbed hair, a deep shade of auburn, perfectly haloed her heart-shaped face.
“No,” I said emphatically for the second time.
Ruben and Devraj sat on our living room sofa while Nico stood leaning against the shelving on the wall with our flat screen, hands in pockets, and not even remotely coming off as calm and collected as I thought he was trying to.
“Seriously, I’m sorry,” said Livvy, looking as penitent as was possible for her from her seat on the loveseat next to me. “If I had any idea it could’ve endangered you, I wouldn’t have posted it on the SuperNet.”
“I think you’re all blowing it out of proportion.” I ignored the huffing sound Nico made. “Yes, they were werewolves, and sorry to offend, Nico, but sometimes werewolves can behave aggressively. But that doesn’t mean they intended to harm.”
“We don’t always intend it.” Nico’s gaze burned into me. “But it happens anyway.”
Ruben had been listening in complete silence as I’d recounted my encounter with Shane at the shop. He sat in his typical three-piece suit, charcoal gray and expensive looking. He’d come over to the house as soon as I’d made Jules call him. Devraj arrived without warning at the same time.
“Nico’s right,” said Ruben, combing a hand through his perfectly styled blond locks, a silver skeleton ring winking in the candlelight. “Though I’d trust Nico and Mateo with my life, a pack of werewolves roaming the city with dubious intent isn’t something we can simply ignore. They need to be watched.”
Clara had started burning her happy candles infused with her Aura magic in the hopes to keep this conversation civil. So far, it actually seemed to be calming everyone’s nerves.
Well, everyone except Nico, who looked like he was about to burst into flames at any moment.
“Nico,” said Ruben calmly, “what are your thoughts? Is this pack a threat?”
“Yes,” came his emphatic reply. He dragged his burning gaze from me to Ruben, clenching his jaw.
“Did he ever say what kind of spell he wanted?” asked Jules from her quiet place in the chair next to the loveseat.
“No, he didn’t.” Which had bothered me. Frowning, I went on, “The thing is, these tattoos aren’t like spells witches can do that can be for anything they want. The way this magic works is that it targets the magic-bearer and what he or she needs the most. That’s why I didn’t want to advertise yet. I want to be able to clearly define what this is before I start telling everyone.”
“I’m sorry.” Livvy looked despondent.
I reached over and squeezed her hand. “It’s okay. I’m not saying that to make you feel bad.” I turned to Devraj. “Like for Devraj, the tattoo I gave him works to quell his craving for blood. Because it’s the one thing that works against his magic of vampirism. He’s not like most vampires who enjoy that craving.”
Jules shot Ruben a look, who merely lifted an eyebrow at her. I’d often wondered if she’d ever let him feed on her when they were together way back when. She looked back to me, her steel-gray eyes cool.
“And so now you’re working on one for the werewolves?” she asked.
“With Nico’s help, yes. If he’s willing.”
His grave expression softened a fraction. “Of course, I will. It’s you that would be helping me, anyway. Not the other way around.”
“Do you think that Shane might want the same thing you do?” I asked.
I didn’t want to expose Nico’s vulnerability in front of everyone—his obvious shame about his lack of control—but I thought this was important information everyone needed to hear.
“Possibly,” he said, a line crinkling at the center of his brow. “When I was a part of their pack, Shane seemed to relish the fights with other gangs. Other packs. But then there were times he’d admit he didn’t…”
He bit back his words a moment, obviously struggling with confessing this weakness. I wanted to reach out and tell him not to, hating the look of anguish crossing his features. But he went ahead anyway.
“He didn’t always enjoy the lack of control either. The instant violence that could come over us when the wolf was stirred up about something.”
Jules sat straighter in her seat, hands clasped neatly in her lap. For one who coveted her self-control, she should have empathy more than anyone for their problem.
“Mateo struggled with this as well before Evie broke his hex,” she said softly, seeming to remember something about that time.
“All werewolves struggle with it,” Nico said, his voice gone deep, his wolf rising to the surface. A flash of electric green rolled over his eyes that he then blinked away. “It’s part of the curse,” he said with sad finality.
“The curse put on the first werewolf by a witch,” I added with a hint of bitterness. “So it only makes sense that a witch be the one to finally help them.”
“You can’t make a werewolf no longer a werewolf,” said Jules. “That ancient curse will never be broken.”
The one put on them to curse every male descendent with werewolf blood in their veins.
“I know that,” I snapped back, not angry at Jules but at the whole fucking situation. “I’m just saying that they suffer unnecessarily. And it’s because of a witch that they do suffer. One of our kind. And this whole no werewolves thing has ostracized them to the point that no witch has ever helped them.
It’s fucking ridiculous.”
I was aware that my voice was far louder and more aggressive than I’d intended. And it definitely wasn’t Jules’s fault. She was only following protocol of her higher-ups in the Guild and advice from our own mother who’d learned it from her predecessor when she’d spouted the same rule. Before Mateo came along anyway.
Ever since that first witch used dark magic to curse the first werewolf and every one of his male descendants, there had been a longstanding prejudice against them. Even in our enlightened age, it was still quite prevalent.
“Violet,” Jules said softly, “it’s not that we don’t agree with you, but this prejudice has been going on for centuries. It’s not like we can wave a wand and make it go away. Even if you’re able to help Nico and others.”
Not that witches used wands, but I got her meaning. Still, I was enraged. “I understand that. But just because something has been wrong since the dawn of existence doesn’t make it fucking okay.”
The silence thickened with tension. Livvy reached over and squeezed my hand for comfort this time. Clara, who’d been standing behind me and ghostly silent the entire time, reached forward and placed a hand on my shoulder. I was so ornery, I almost shrugged her off, wanting to hold onto my anger.
But rather than hit me with her happy juice, she let me feel my righteous anger and simply said, “Violet’s right. This prejudice against werewolves only hurts the whole supernatural community. Not just werewolves. And Violet has the power to change all of that.”
I glanced over my shoulder, a little shocked.
She smiled sweetly. “Don’t you?”
I nodded to my sister then locked on Nico’s gaze, which burned with intense adoration. My heart tripped faster.
“I think so.” Clara squeezed my shoulder, sending me the confidence I needed. Sitting up straighter, I said with conviction, “Yes, I do. Once Spirit gives me the incantation I need.”
Jules spoke with perfect calmness as always, as if I hadn’t just called our entire kind a bunch of self-righteous bigots moments before. “Your spells have always been innate. A few words, a little flirting with the new moon, and the right divination charm just falls into your brain.”
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