Touched by Moonlight

by Bonnie Vanak

  “The food here’s pretty decent. I know you don’t like to eat here, but you can try something else. They make a great steak.” I started to wave to a server.

  “No,” Stephan said tightly.

  Nicolas put a hand on his arm and stared at me.

  “Forget the food here, Sienna. We had an excellent hunt tonight. Have you ever killed anything beneath the light of a full moon?” Nicolas’s mouth curved upward in a cold smile. “You can see your prey’s terror so much clearer.”

  His low, rough voice felt like velvet against my raw nerves, despite the menace in his words. If Grayson had shadows, Nicolas was darkness itself. A darkness that intrigued me, since I’d had more than a brush with it myself.

  I knew how to deal with guys like Nicolas. I stared right back. “It’s not a full moon,” I corrected. “And I bet you killed that fast food burger real efficiently.”

  Stephan laughed and sipped his beer. “She got you, Nicolas.”

  Leaning back, Nicolas flashed the briefest of smiles at Stephan. “Stir fry. Thai. Not fast food.”

  Asian food. Who would have figured? I sipped my water, fascinated by these two. Werewolves who watched movies and liked Thai food.

  “Guess what I saw the other night?” Stephan asked, excitement in his voice like a young child.

  “The umpteenth re-run of The Punisher? I’m impressed.”

  “I took Matilda out for a spin. We watched the stars come out. I saw Orion.”

  Jealousy pinched me. Once I had lived in a place where you could lie on your back and watch the stars and count each one. Now they were brightened by city lights. But I couldn’t let them know this. “Stars, the moon, so ordinary. Now Uranus? That’s something I’d like to see.”

  I winked at Stephan, who flushed again. Nicolas actually smiled. A real smile. With teeth.

  “You know what I like to watch?” Nicolas asked.

  “Animal Planet?”

  “Cooking shows.” Another smile.

  Unable to tell if he was joking, I laughed anyway. Life was too damn serious for me lately. “You watch Emeril? You don’t look the type to slice and dice and sauté a kill before you eat it.”

  “Oh?” Nicolas cocked his head. This was the most he’d talked to me directly since we’d met. “What do I look like I like to watch?”

  “Porn?” I offered.

  Silence for a minute. Stephan snickered glanced at Nicolas. I thought I’d pushed it too far, and then Nicolas laughed. It was such a deep, rusty sound, I knew he seldom did it. He even looked surprised at the sound.

  “He likes cooking and porn shows. He channels surfs,” Stephan offered, and Nicolas mock-punched him in the arm.

  The affection between them was real, as if they were brothers. I envied their closeness.

  We started a spirited discussion about food and television shows. It felt so damn normal I could forget the unease riding me tonight, as if some dark force headed this way.

  Must be my imagination, and the night.

  “Wow, you were really hungry,” Stephan blurted out.

  I stared at the plate. Twenty chicken tenders, gone. All gone. Shame crept up from my throat, turning my face red. Most women at this club never eat in front of men. They don’t like them to know they, you know, eat.

  Me, I had no such pride. When you’ve been on the streets, fighting for scraps, digging into dumpsters, you eat when there’s free food. Even when you can afford to buy your own. Power such as mine means I constantly have to eat, and not typical Fae food of vegetables or fruit. Any food.

  Just because I don’t use my magick doesn’t mean it isn’t demanding to be fed. My metabolism burns up calories like an old Lincoln burns up gasoline.

  “I’m sorry,” I muttered, refusing to meet their gazes. “I must look like a pig.”

  A hand on my chin, lifting it up to meet Nicolas’ quiet and suddenly understanding gaze. “Never apologize for eating, Sienna. Not in front of us, or anyone. We get it.”

  As he dropped his hand, I blinked away a sudden bout of tears and glanced at Stephan. “Have you ever been so hungry while watching someone else eating a huge meal, you can’t wait until they’re done because you want the leftovers?” I asked him.

  Stephan nodded, his expression tight. “We’ve been there.”

  Nicolas reached over, gave his shoulder a quick squeeze.

  They weren’t judging me. I had the feeling they did know exactly what I meant. I rushed on.

  “I’ve been on the road a lot. Had a job cleaning tables in an upscale restaurant in Houston. The pay was horrible. I was broke all the time, spending my money on rent. One time I got so hungry I decided to eat the scraps. I kept staring at this couple, her in a long red dress, and he was wearing a tuxedo. They feasted on all this food, including this amazing looking lobster thermidor, drinking Dom Pérignon as if it were water. I couldn’t wait until they finished. By the time I cleaned off the table, there was nothing left. Not even a scrap of asparagus.”

  Silence for a moment. Why did I share so much information? I liked to keep my life private.

  “I know what Nicolas and I would have done,” Stephan finally said.

  I glanced at him.

  “We’d have burst in there, eaten the couple and the dinner as well.”

  Shame forgotten, I laughed. “Sounds good. As long as you left me dessert.”

  “You should stick with us, Sienna. You’d never go hungry again,” Stephan said earnestly. “We always have food. I love to cook. I’d make you a prime rib that is out of this world.”

  This was too intense and personal. “You say that to all the girls?” I asked lightly.

  “Only the ones we want to eat later… in a different manner.” Nicolas winked at me.

  The wink could have been seductive or sly. I couldn’t tell. But the friction between us seemed to ease. I wondered why. Because I shared the fact that I’d gone hungry?

  Stephan finished his beer and looked lost in thought. “I once dated a red-headed witch who loved to eat out. We only went out a couple of times. She said I was savage werewolf. I don’t like to… take women out to dinner on dates.”

  Nicolas stared at me, his expression tight again. Ignoring him, I touched Stephan’s hand. “Of course, you’re a werewolf. And she was a bitch, not a witch.”

  His gaze haunted, Stephan shook his head. “Women don’t seem to like me.”

  A fierce kind of protectiveness came over me. I knew his angst, the feeling of being rejected. I went to him and kissed his cheek. “You are a werewolf and one of the nicest I’ve ever met. The ones that don’t like you don’t know the real you, Stephan. Forget about them. There’s others out there.”

  Stephan smiled finally and Nicolas gave me an approving nod, as if I’d passed some unknown test. I didn’t know what that was about. He gave Stephan’s shoulder another quick squeeze.

  And then the mood in the bar seemed to change, as if the crowd had partied itself out. My nostrils twitched.

  A feeling of dread slithered down my spine. Something was coming. Something dark and nasty and oh so bad.

  Cass was bustling at the bar. I excused myself. Dinner was over, and judging from my instincts, people wanted out. Now.

  “Have to dash. Thanks for the company while I ate.”

  “You’re special Sienna,” Stephan said, almost shyly.

  I dropped another kiss on his cheek. “So are you. I have to get back to work.”

  “No kiss for me?” Nicolas asked dryly as I started to walk away.

  I turned before he could make another smart ass remark and kissed him, hard and deep and quick. He fisted a hand in my hair and kissed me back, equally intense. Nicolas tasted of beer and darkness and a good time between the sheets. The empty space between my legs throbbed with need.

  He was as sexy and arousing as Grayson, in a different way.

  When I pulled away, I felt shaken. I really needed a session with my vibrator. Why was I kissing these guys tonight? Usually I
had tighter control.

  Nicolas looked equally surprised by my reaction, or maybe it was his own.

  “Okay, I really have to get back to work,” I told them.

  Stephan laced his fingers around my wrist. His grip was gentle, but firm, his merry eyes now dead serious. “It’s not a good night out there, Sienna.” he said quietly. “If you can leave early, do it.”

  He released my wrist and his eyes glowed amber, signaling the rise of his wolf. A low growl rumbled from his chest. His claws emerged and he growled, gouging the table as he scraped them over the surface.

  I’d never seen Stephan’s wolf rise and it alarmed me. I drew back.

  “You will stay with us. We can protect you,” Stephan demanded.

  “Easy buddy,” Nicolas murmured, squeezing his shoulder again. “Not here.”

  Claws withdrawing, Stephan relaxed. Damn. I’d almost forgotten how lethal a werewolf he could be. I hastened to reassure him.

  “I’m fine, Stephan. Besides, I need the money. Rent’s due next week.”

  “Stephan is right. There’s something coming. Don’t leave the bar alone.” Nicolas leaned forward, amber flashing in his eyes now. “Better yet, leave with Grayson. He’ll take you back to our place.”

  “Don’t go out there, Sienna,” Stephan said, his eyes still amber, his expression troubled. “Not alone. Promise.”

  “Okay.” I held up my hands. “I promise.”

  As I headed to the bar, I sensed them watching me, in the way wolves do. Not to take down prey, but watching my back. It felt both reassuring and stressful.

  Why did they feel the urge to protect me? And what could be out there that unnerved powerful wolf shifters?

  Chapter 3

  I forgot about the warning as I resumed work and filling drink orders. On stage, Kelly finished her bump and grind act and sashayed away.

  Usually management played canned music while the next act prepared to come out. No music played. But for muted conversation, silence filled the air. That odd vibe increased, the energy of something nasty cranking up. I glanced at Grayson, who frowned.

  Instead of the next stripper striding onstage, oldies music came over the sound system, as if Dante was trying to tamp down the hard aggression in the room. Odd, because management usually liked the shifters cranked up on Saturday nights. They spent more money and the strippers who serviced them in the back rooms got better tips.

  Shifter testosterone ran high on weekends. So why try to dampen it?

  I stopped in the middle of washing a glass. Barry Manilow? Yep, the strains of the has-been crooner came across the loudspeakers. The four arguing shifters, obviously tipsy, stood, hooked arms and began to sway to the tune like sailors on a ship.

  Guess they’d solved the problem of who had the largest equipment.

  Guy, the bouncer, gently herded them out of the door. An Uber, driven by another shifter, would take them home. Human Uber drivers were not acceptable at Crossroads. Not with all the weird stuff that could happen at a paranormal strip club. I’ve worked there only two months and already I’d seen plenty, including a drunk bear shifter who got tossed for rubbing his naked butt against the stripper pole because he had a different kind of itch to scratch.

  It seemed that bear shifters were an odd sort.

  The strains of “Mandy” screeched over the sound system. At the bar, a werewolf cringed and clapped his hands over his ears.

  “Screw this crap. This sounds worse than my old lady nagging me to take the trash out,” he muttered, tossing a fifty on the counter.

  “Change?” I took the bill.

  “Naw, keep it hon.” His eyes flashed gold, the rising of his wolf. “You deserve it for putting up with these assholes.”

  “Thanks Vincent.” He was one of the good ones, who groused about his mate, but in reality, came here to give her time to catch up with her female friends.

  “This place feels weird tonight and it’s not just that damn music. If I were you Sienna, I’d leave.” Vincent cast an uneasy glance around the room. “It feels odd.”

  “I’ll be fine. Thanks.”

  Even as the words fled my mouth, he was hurrying out the door, as if hellhounds, or his nagging old lady, pursued him. Unease rippled through me. Vincent wasn’t powerfully built or had the natural strength of an alpha, but he was a werewolf. What spooked him?

  “Sienna, can you handle things? I have to speak with Dante.” Cass wiped her hands on a towel.

  I nodded, even though tending bar alone tonight made me uneasy. Vincent was right. Something sparked and sizzled in the air. My senses tingled with magick. Not the magick of the shifters drinking, talking and enjoying the strippers. The sexual energy intertwined with magick always threaded through the air at Crossroads.

  This felt different. Bad different.

  Something wicked was coming and Nicolas and Stephan’s warning seemed more ominous now. I couldn’t pinpoint what, but I knew. The magick hummed in me, a burning clamoring for release.

  For most, magick is like any skillset. Use it, hone it like a sword and it grows stronger. Ignore it and the gift dies. Atrophies much as a lazy couch surfer’s muscles sag when he swaps out nights at the gym for Dancing with the Stars.

  Not with me. My magick howled to get out. Most days it lay quietly in wait. Easily controlled.

  Not tonight. Power crackled inside of me, rising because of that something in the air.

  Maybe the others in the bar sensed it as well. More people headed for the exit. I fetched drinks for the servers, and refilled the glasses of the few shifters at the bar. Cass stood near the stage, speaking with Dante.

  Grayson kept scanning the room. The sexual heat between us still sizzled, though the heavy tension in the air had slightly muted it.

  I lifted a bottle of Goldschlager to pour another shot for a regular shifter, who shook his head and slid off his stool. Barely eleven and this dude always downed at least two shots before heading home. But there he was, grabbing his jacket and making a hasty exit.

  Maybe the crappy music had hurt his ears, too.

  Then again, maybe Barry Manilow was a werewolf in real life. Hiding his powers like I hid mine. Most humans were blissfully ignorant of the existence of the magick world of shifters and other paranormal creatures. It was best. That’s why Crossroads hired only humans with psychic abilities. Psi humans knew about otherworldly creatures and kept the knowledge to themselves, because ordinary mortals scoffed at them. Most humans don’t believe in werewolves or Fae.

  Cass came over and began wiping down the counter as Guy carried glasses to the sink. Dante approached, his body tense beneath the elegant black suit and starched white shirt. Stunned, I saw a flash of fangs as he licked his lips.

  But Dante was alpha, and always in control.

  I glanced over at Grayson and gasped. Claws had emerged from his fingers. He gouged marks in the wood counter.

  Dante didn’t even notice. Two alpha werewolf shifters this cranked up, ready for a fight.

  As if noticing the two alphas tension, or sensing the heaviness in the air, the crowd began to disperse. Seemed like everyone decided to head home. Soon it was only Grayson, his beta wolves and Dante and his staff.

  “What’s going on?” I asked.

  “We’re closing early.” Dante’s deep voice carried a thread of worry, despite the deep authority lacing his tone.

  Now I felt truly alarmed. If Dante, who was alpha and could kick the ass of every shifter from here to Colorado, was afraid, what was out there?

  Grayson beckoned to me, handed me his empty. His claws had retracted. “Another shot of whisky, Sienna. Please.”

  Dante scowled. “Last call.”

  Ignoring him, Grayson focused only on me. My apt fingers trembled as I grabbed a bottle. Grayson had that effect on me. Some of Dante’s precious liquor spilled to the counter.

  “Oops.” My voice came as a throaty whisper.

  “Do I make you nervous, Sienna?”

  Bl
inking, I turned away.

  Fingers wrapped around my wrist, tugging me back to the bar. When my startled gaze met Grayson’s, something uncertain flickered in his blue eyes.

  “Do I?”

  At first I wanted to laugh it off. Deny it. Because soon as you showed vulnerability around shifters, especially weres, you were toast. They could scent fear, but couple that fear with an admission of it, and anything could happen.

  Anything bad.

  His grip was gentle, though I sensed the strength behind it. I suspected if I squealed or ordered him to stop touching me, he’d do so. This was different. Sexual.

  I licked my lips, watched him track the move, the uncertainty in his gaze turning sharp.

  “A little. But not in a bad way.”

  The corners of his mouth lifted. “Ah, good.”

  “Wow.” I didn’t try to tug away from those big, calloused fingers still holding me captive. “Never thought I’d see that.”

  As he tilted his head in puzzlement, I added, “You. Smiling.”

  The smile widened. “There’s a lot of things I can do.”

  I bet. And all of them have to do with getting naked.

  Damnit. I could feel the heat glowing from me like a roaring fire on a cold night. My gaze dropped to the space between the leather gloves and my long-sleeved shirt. The space his fingers touched.

  Crimson.

  Grayson glanced down. He saw it as well. But instead of looking puzzled or even scared, he looked… satisfied.

  Until Dante strode over, all alpha arrogance and protective. This was his club, and he never hesitated to throw his muscled weight around.

  “Release her. Now.”

  Not loosening his grip, Grayson faced the other alpha. “Make me.”

  Oh damn. That low growl rumbling from Dante’s throat was so not a good sign.

  All hell was about to break loose.

  Again, it was my fault. I needed to leave before anyone else got hurt.

  Especially me.

  Chapter 4

  GRAYSON

  I hate fights. Not because I can’t win, but because they’re a waste of time and energy. Fighting isn’t the reason I came to Crossroads.