The Slaughtered Lamb Bookstore and Bar (Sam Quinn Book 1)

by Seana Kelly

  I scented wolf as we got close. There were six of them lounging in the large booth in the back corner of the club. The last time I’d been around this many wolves, I’d been human—or at least I assumed I’d been—and unaware that werewolves were real. My skin was crawling.

  “May I present Hollis Rawlins, Alpha of the Bodega Bay Pack and his second, Andre.” Russell stepped back, so Clive could take over.

  Shaking Hollis’s hand, Clive said, “It’s good to see you. This,” he gestured to me, “is Samantha Quinn, a friend.”

  Two vampires appeared out of nowhere, each with ornate chairs in hand. They placed the chairs next to Clive and me.

  “May we join you for a moment?”

  “Your club,” Hollis said, wariness in his eyes. He was big and imposing, even while seated. He looked like two hundred and fifty pounds of solid muscle. He had dark hair, light brown eyes, and a scar running down his darkly tanned face, from the side of his eye down his cheek and neck, disappearing under the collar of a black t-shirt. He sat in the back of the large booth, his presence commanding. Alpha.

  “It is, yes. We were hoping you’d be able to share some information with us.”

  Hollis made a sound somewhere between a grumble and a sigh, which Clive seemed to take for assent.

  “First, I should ask. Do you know Sam?”

  Hollis’s gaze traveled over me slowly before returning to Clive with a quick shake of his head.

  “I didn’t think so. Sam is our lone San Francisco wolf.” Hollis’s expression said he didn’t much care. Clive continued, “She’s the daughter of Michael Quinn, niece of Marcus, granddaughter of Alexander.”

  The eyes of every wolf at the table snapped to me. There were four men, all equally burly, and two women. The women, though, were interesting. One was wearing a tank top, arm muscles toned and flexed as she leaned in, ready to jump. The other woman was soft and bunnyish.

  “I see that means something to you. Were you aware Michael had a daughter?”

  Hollis shook his head, studying me, probably looking for signs to confirm or negate Clive’s claims. “I never heard he had young.”

  “I found two women in the ocean in front of my bookstore, two female wolves who were tortured and killed. Their bodies were dumped. One woman was a member of the Santa Cruz Mountains Pack. I didn’t recognize the other. I—we—wondered if one of your wolves had gone missing.”

  Hollis glanced at Clive and then back to me. “We lost Charla about a year ago. She washed up on the beach. They thought she’d been bashed against the rocks, but that didn’t feel right to me. I believed then, and still believe, that she was killed.” He took a gulp of beer. “I haven’t heard about anyone missing now.” He raised his eyebrows at Andre who gave a quick shake of his head. Andre did, however, pull out his phone and start texting.

  “Do you have a suspect?” The Alpha seemed only mildly curious, but I knew if we gave him a name, someone would be dead by tomorrow. Which maybe wasn’t such a bad thing.

  Derailing that thought, I asked, “Did you notice anything out of the ordinary around the time Charla died? Or since?”

  Hollis stared though me, deciding what to share. “Yeah. Someone’s been doing black magic in our territory. We noticed…” Hollis’s gaze swung back to Andre, who had put his phone away and was following our conversation closely. “Maybe six or eight months ago.”

  Andre nodded, confirming Hollis’s guess.

  “I didn’t feel anything like that around Charla, but she’d been in the ocean a while.” Shrugging, he added. “I don’t have a wicche on retainer. Don’t trust ‘em.” He glanced around the room and then focused on Clive. “That was actually part of the reason we came into the city tonight. I was hoping to talk to you. When we’ve gone running recently, we’ve found spelled areas. It’s pack territory. No fucking wicches, black or white, should be using our land!” His fist slammed down on the table. In the noisy nightclub, no one noticed or cared.

  “One of our young almost died last week. Do you—” He stopped, clearly uncomfortable having to ask for help, especially from a vampire. “Do you have anyone who can clean the spells out? It’s pack land, has been for almost two hundred years.” His gaze traveled between Clive and Russell. “I thought someone was working with a wicche to take me out, steal the pack…but no one’s made a move against me.”

  “Had I been informed of any such plot against you or your pack, I would have contacted you.” Clive’s words settled the Alpha. The tension in his shoulders eased.

  “Well, hell. If you and your people don’t know anything about it, I’m not sure who would.” Hollis downed the rest of his beer.

  Watching the two other men Hollis brought with him was fascinating. They refused to look either Clive or Russell in the eye, but neither would they appear weak by not looking at them. Both seemed to have perfected the forehead stare.

  “As for whether or not we can help with spelled pack lands…” Clive nodded to Russell. “We’ll send out someone who may be able to track the spell to the source. At the least, they should be able to clear your land for you.”

  I turned sharply toward Clive. If he had people who could do that, why were we here? Why didn’t he have that person track the spells against me? He didn’t appear to acknowledged my unspoken rebuke, but his hand found my knee under the table. A quick pat to let me know we’d talk later.

  “Appreciate it,” Hollis said.

  “If we might ask in return, you said you didn’t know Michael Quinn had a child. Had you heard anything about Michael or his wife?” Clive sat back in his chair, relaxed, surveying the group of wolves. As we all had supernaturally sensitive hearing, our voices had remained low and unnoticed by the loud, dancing throng around us.

  “I don’t know much. Michael disappeared a long time ago—twenty, twenty-five years ago. Marcus took over as the Santa Cruz Alpha when Alexander passed.”

  “Do you know what happened to either of them?”

  Hollis shook his head. “Never heard for sure, just rumors.”

  I leaned forward. “What did you hear?”

  He watched me for a minute and then seemed to decide. “Heard the son got married to someone daddy didn’t like. Heard there was a big family blow up. Marcus backed Alexander and ended up with the pack after his father mysteriously fell to his death.” Hollis’s eyes found mine again. “I don’t know if any of this is true. I heard his body was found at the bottom of a deep ravine. His neck snapped. He could have fallen and died. It’s possible. Just really fucking unlikely.”

  “Was this before or after my father disappeared?”

  Another shrug. “Can’t be sure. It was all around the same time. Your grandpa found out your dad was married, they fought, your dad went missing, grandpa died, and your uncle took over the pack. All within maybe six months. I knew your dad a little. Liked him. Marcus, now, that’s a different story.”

  “What do you mean?” Had my mother been right about Marcus all along?

  “Only met Marcus once or twice. He was a weak sister. Your dad inherited all the power. He was the rightful heir to Alexander Quinn. I have no idea who Michael married or why she was so unfit. I assumed, though, after it all went down, that Marcus had bided his time, looking to collect the prize at the end. He never could have challenged either his father or his brother.” He spun his empty beer bottle in his hand. “I wish I could give you more, but I just don’t know.”

  I tapped the table near his hand. “Thank you for sharing what you know.”

  “What about the new Alpha, Randy. Have you heard anything about him?” Clive leaned to the side as Eve bent down to whisper in his ear. He nodded, as she placed a drink in front of him.

  The female with the crazy eyes had snapped to attention when Clive mentioned Randy. Wasn’t that interesting?

  “That pack is a fucking mess. Marcus was too weak to lead. Wolves who should have been put down weren’t. The pack’s dominant wolves left in disgust, and Marcus just kept pos
turing like he had it all under control.” Hollis waved down a passing waitress, holding up his empty beer bottle. “I told my people to steer clear of that pack.”

  I had a feeling at least one of his pack had ignored that order.

  “I don’t know anything about that Randy kid other than he’s been with Marcus since he was young, younger than kids normally survive the turning. Maybe the kid’s tough. Don’t know. Marcus’s son Mick was dead, so… Probably why Randy ended up as Alpha. The kid’s like twenty.” He shook his head. “Marcus must have driven off all the dominants who were left in the pack after Alexander died. Otherwise, I don’t know how a kid like that could have taken over the pack.” He glanced over at the dance floor. “So, we done with the questions?”

  Clive and I exchanged a look and nodded.

  Hollis grinned, pinning me with his eyes. “Wanna dance?”

  Nineteen

  I Could Have Danced All Night

  Hollis hopped on the bench, walked across the table, and dropped down next to me a second later. Springing up, I shoved the chair between us. Face impassive, his eyes glinted with suppressed humor. “Didn’t mean to scare you.” He offered me his hand. “Shall we?”

  Reluctantly, I took his hand and let him lead me to the dance floor. I still hated being touched. Mostly. Okay, Clive holding my hand didn’t bother me at all. In fact—not important. The point was, I could do this. Fearsome, not fearful.

  The dark, atmospheric music had a driving bass that whipped up the horde. Bodies bounced and flung themselves around the dance floor. Hollis ignored the crowd around us, pulled me into a tight embrace, and then began to salsa. Mouth dry, I followed his lead, meeting him twist for turn.

  How did I know how to dance? And there it was, a flash of memory. Mom teaching me to dance. A radio playing in a yellow kitchen. Laughter. Dancing was our exercise and our fun. Mom didn’t like us to go out, so music and reading filled our days. I held the memory close as I danced with the Alpha.

  He had me pulled in tight, before flinging me out and spinning me back. His hand rode low on my back while we swayed in rhythm to the music. The man had skills. When a guy almost barreled into me, Hollis growled deep and spun me out of the way, placing himself in the path. The hapless dancer bounced off Hollis’s powerful back, ricocheting into a group that moved, letting him fall to the floor.

  Pulling me in close again, he whispered in my ear, “I meant what I said. I liked Michael. I don’t like talking with a leech listening in, but if you ever want to visit, call me. I’ll give you safe passage through our territory.”

  “I appreciate that.”

  Grunting, he spun me out and then back. “Alexander hated wicches as much as I do. The only thing that would have set Alexander against his favorite son would have been a wicche.” He shrugged. “My two cents.”

  Nodding, I wondered if all this pain, these deaths, could have been avoided if my grandfather had just accepted his son’s wife.

  Hollis paused, looking over my shoulder. Following his gaze, I found Clive, standing still, like a rock in a stream, as a hundred dark-clad dancers swayed and jerked around him.

  “May I cut in?” Sometimes that deep British voice made me breathless. This was one of those times.

  Hollis nodded before focusing his attention back on me. Grinning, he pulled my hand up to his mouth for a kiss. “It was brief but a pleasure. If you’d ever like to do it again, you know where to find me.” He sauntered back to his table, the eyes of countless men and women following him.

  “Shall we?” Clive held out his arms and I walked right in. He pulled me in close and we slow danced, ignoring the pounding throng around us.

  Smiling at the ridiculousness of swaying to music only we could hear, I tucked my head into the crook of his neck. He always smelled so good, like linens warmed in the sun. I clung to one shoulder, my other hand resting on his chest, cradled in his hand. The arm around me flexed, pulling me in tighter. This was the Clive he seemed to keep well-hidden. The face he presented to the world was one of threat, power, and authority. Privately, though, he’d shown me great kindness, gentleness even. Had I not been targeted, had Clive not felt the responsibility to protect me, I’d have missed it, too. I’d have missed him entirely.

  And then I heard it. He was humming, something lovely and slow. The music in his head shared a bass beat with the house music blasting through speakers, making the floor tremble. I could block it all out, though, and easily. Clive wove an enchanted circle around us, as we danced, out of time and place, alone, lost in the moment.

  His thumb brushed back and forth, making lazy circles on my spine. The index finger of the hand holding mine moved almost imperceptibly, making me hyper-aware of every point of contact we shared. The music rumbled through his chest against my ear. It was as if the world had shrunk down to this small circle, ancient music filling my head as Clive moved his fingertips in time.

  When the music changed, the humming was cut short with a soft sound of irritation. “The gnats in my ears won’t leave me alone tonight. I suppose I should be happy they subsided long enough for one dance.” Clive walked me through the dance floor, the crowd parting and then joining as we passed.

  Russell, waiting off to the side, fell in step as we passed. “I apologize, Liege. They are restless, and I was unable to put them off.”

  “I don’t owe them this. I refuse to sacrifice the possibility because of their bigotry,” Clive spat. He stopped in the dark hall leading to the office before turning back to Russell. “Make sure Sam gets home safely. I’ll deal with the outraged whisperers.” Clive was seething. I’d never seen him this angry before and had no idea what had prompted it.

  “They may never be able to understand and accept, Sire.” Russell’s voice had taken on the quiet apology of one not wishing to say what he must.

  “My patience can only be stretched so far. I expect loyalty. If they can’t give it—” Clive stalked down the hall and threw open the office door, slamming it behind him.

  What was that about and who were the gnats?

  “Ms. Quinn. If you could come with me, I’ll drive you home now.” Russell extended his arm toward the entrance. We’d only gone a few steps before Russell was stopped by another vampire. They spoke quietly for a few minutes. Russell appeared annoyed but listened to the vamp before sending him on his way.

  I realized my jacket was still in the office, but there was no way in hell I was knocking on that door and asking for it, so I walked with Russell out the front of the club and into the cold San Francisco night. The line was just as long as it had been earlier. People, dressed for a sweaty club, not a cold night, stamped their feet to warm up.

  “I’m sorry, Ms. Quinn. I know this isn’t how Clive wished for the evening to end.”

  “It’s okay.” I needed to think anyway. Hollis’s take on my grandfather and uncle had my head spinning as I considered every conversation with Marcus through this new lens, memory and interpretation realigning.

  We were just crossing the street when I asked, “Russell, what was that back there? Why was Clive so—”

  “Sam.” We both turned to find Clive jogging toward us, my jacket in his hand.

  When Clive tilted his head, Russell turned and walked back toward the club. “You forgot your coat,” he said, as he held it open for me to slip on.

  “You didn’t have to deliver it.” But I was glad he had.

  “I don’t want you to be cold.” He spun me around so he could align the bottom and zip me in. “There.” He grabbed my hand and led the way to his car. “I’m taking you home.”

  “But I thought—”

  Clive opened the passenger door. Eyes still sparking with anger, he nevertheless gentled his voice and movements for me.

  When he slid in and started the engine, I put my hand on his arm. Taut, he vibrated with rage. “I’m sorry. Whatever happened back there that made you so angry, I’m sorry it interrupted our dance.”

  Clive turned to me, his gray
eyes glowing like fog in the moonlight. His expression softened, anger fading in the charged stillness. “Me, too.”

  His hand left the steering wheel and brushed lightly over my jaw. Fingertips holding me in place, he leaned forward, slowly, inexorably, giving me time to stop him. “So beautiful,” he breathed.

  I closed the distance. Clive’s mouth melded to mine, as his fingers dove into my hair. Gentle, tentative, exploring kisses rained down on me. This couldn’t be real. It was a lovely dream from which I would all too soon awake.

  He nibbled along my jaw and then kissed a spot behind my ear that pulled a gasp out of me. I could feel him smile as he dragged his lips down my throat. Hot, open-mouthed kisses in the crook of my neck tickled and soothed, creating champagne bubbles in my blood.

  “Clive?” I could barely hear my own voice over the hammering of my heart. This man, at once terrifying to the world and yet so gentle with me, was more than I thought I could ever have in this life.

  He dropped kisses on my eyelids and cheekbones. “Hmm?” His hand slid around my waist, finding a strip of exposed skin to caress, sparks trailing from his fingertips.

  “Could you…” Oh, my. His tongue skated over the shell of my ear before he nibbled at the lobe. Internal muscles clenched as he found a pulse point and sucked.

  “Could I?” Twin needle points glided down my throat, and I lost my breath, lost my name. Internal tectonic plates converged, tremors overloading my system.

  “Uh.”

  He leaned back, eyebrows raised, a soft smile playing on his lips as he waited. “Could I?”

  “Kiss me again?” I knew my face was flaming, but he didn’t laugh.

  His mouth came down on mine with a ferocity and passion I hadn’t expected. My whole body went up in flames. I wanted his hands on me. Everywhere. His tongue slid along my own, and my brain functions shorted out. Reaching, I gripped his arm, his biceps flexing as I pulled him closer. I never wanted this moment to end.