by Tl Reeve
A she slipped the sweater over her head a knock came at her front door. She glanced up into her bathroom mirror and shook her head and muttered to herself, “Fifteen minutes early.”
The knock came again as she did a quick job of applying her makeup and Ava yelled, “James! Let's go!”
“Coming!” Jamie, answered, slipping on her shoes. Not like the bar wouldn’t still be there if they were late by five minutes. She came to a stop at her door and opened it. “You’re early.”
“And you’re late.” Ava crossed her arms over her chest as she cocked one of her perfectly manicured brows. She was dressed to kill in a pair of designer jeans, a wool coat, and a pair of shoes worth more than three months of rent for Jamie’s apartment.
Why exactly did I agree to this? Jamie glanced down at her outfit then back to Ava. No way she could be seen out in public with Ava looking like she did. “Maybe this was a bad idea. I’m sorry.” Jamie’s voice wobbled. “I don't think I can go now.” It was painfully obvious to Jamie they came from different social status. This would never work. She wasn’t Mary. Ava could never replace Jamie’s best friend.
“No!” Ava responded. “You promised, and a promise is never broken.”
“What are we twelve?” Jamie snapped. A warm flush crept up her neck and into her cheeks. The earlier sparkle of excitement in her friend’s eyes began to fade at her harsh words. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to snap at you.”
A slow smile began to spread over Ava’s lips. “All’s forgiven.” She took Jamie’s hand in hers. “The first round’s on you, though.”
“Thank you.” Jamie's stomach flipped and fluttered, putting her on edge. A jolt of nervous energy flow through her—the same nervous energy she felt the morning Mary had been killed and her life changed. Is something life changing going happened tonight? “Wait, I thought you said you were buying?”
“By the way, you look beautiful. Pink is your color.” Ava ignored her question.
Jamie let out a soft unladylike snort at Ava’s comment. “Sorry.” She cleared her throat. “You look amazing, but you already know this.”
“Are you ready?” Ava didn’t acknowledge her statement. She totally didn’t have to.
“Yeah, I am.” She grabbed her purse and keys. “Let’s go.”
“So, James, tonight is all about having fun.” Ava glanced over her shoulder. “Something you’re sorely lacking.”
She nodded. Fun. Sure. More like torture.
They headed down the stairs to the front of the building. Jamie paused on the last step and laughed. Her friend’s bright-red sports car sat double-parked in front of her building. “You could get a ticket for that.”
“I doubt it. The deputies are afraid to give me a ticket. They’re not too keen with being on the receiving end of Zane’s wrath.” Ava pushed open the door and stepped out into the early evening autumn air.
Jamie’s body tensed at the mention of Zane’s name. What an odd reaction. She shook it off. Not tonight. “So, why Mass Hysteria?” Jamie slipped into the passenger seat while Ava waited for her behind the wheel.
“I think the better question is; why not Mass Hysteria? It's like Cheers. Cian, hell, even the servers know everyone's name and what their drink of choice happens to be.” She glanced over at Jamie. “Don't judge a book by its cover, James. It's safe. Trust me!”
Trust her. “Onward to Mass Hysteria.”
“Now you’re talking!” Ava gave a happy yip, pulling back out into traffic.
Thankfully, the drive didn’t take long, and her friend didn’t break any land-speed records. The illuminated front of the log-built bar greeted them. Several cars along with motorcycles were crammed into the sparse parking out front and in the adjacent lot. “What kind of name is Mass Hysteria for a bar, anyway?” Jamie looked over at Ava after she pulled into a spot marked reserved.
“It’s Cian’s wicked sense of humor.” Ava put the car in park before turning it off. “You should ask him for all the details. He loves telling the story.”
Ava linked arms with her after they got out and strode past the big hulking man, who Jamie assumed was a bouncer. The noise of the bar assailed her the moment they stepped inside. Music blared from hidden speakers while raucous laughter mixed with drunk slurring and general revelry. It wasn’t like any of the sports bars she been to. There were no televisions lining the walls showing different types of sports. The women didn’t wear skimpy outfits, and the men, the few she saw anyway, didn’t wear cheesy ref shirts with checkered name tags. Mass Hysteria appeared a little darker—more intimate, and a little cleaner—not so sticky, but most of all, safe.
Ava led her around the area, waving to everyone as they strolled over to a table marked reserved. She was the social butterfly asking after different patron’s moms, sisters, or cousins, and she didn’t do it out of obligation, she did it because she wanted to. Maybe, Jamie had been unfair to Ava. She’d been so set on keeping to herself and hidden, she’d created this false persona for Ava, so she didn’t have to get to know her.
Guilt twisted Jamie’s stomach as she took a seat. The heavy fog clinging to her since the minute Mary died–the one she’d been surrounded by–still lingered, she feared; even if she could breathe easier. This time, it manifested in a different way. She’d have to work on it, be pro-active, not reactive. She also had to make the conscious decision to stop being such a little shit to Ava.
As she pulled off her jacket, a pretty redhead came over to get their drink order. Jamie didn’t catch her name, except, of course, Ava knew her. They chatted for a moment before taking their order.
“Is it always this loud?” Jamie asked.
“Sometimes,” Ava replied. “It’s Friday, so all the construction guys get off early. Shift change for the deputies, too.” She pointed to the two different groups. “Saturdays are worse, I’m afraid; hence, why we’re here tonight.”
The waitress returned with their drinks then placed them on the table. She didn’t feel like having a beer and figured it was because she’d been feeling melancholy about Mary. She grabbed the glass of cherry soda and popped her straw into it while Ava took a sip of her frilly girly drink.
“Just like Cheers,” Ava stated with a grin.
Yeah. Just like Cheers...
Zane leaned against the bar and took another pull from his beer. So far, the day had been rather quiet. There hadn't been another murder in the last several days, but for him, that didn't mean anything. There’d been lulls before, and he couldn’t let his guard down.
In the last six weeks, three girls—witches—had been found dead. Their bodies were laid out in a ritualistic sacrificial pattern—cut open from stem to stern, with their innards arranged around them in a disgusting display reminiscent of the murders over twenty years ago. The bodies had been preserved as if the last bit of their magic had been used to aid authorities to find their killer. Unfortunately, the killer was good. No evidence whether fingerprints or hairs or fibers were found in or around the bodies. Rape kits were used, but all of them came back negative for sexual assault.
“She's here tonight.” Cian, his beta, and lover joined him. As the owner of Mass Hysteria, Cian had a direct line to the pack and could glean information about his pack from time to time. “Ava and Jamie arrived fifteen minutes ago.”
“Good to know.” The little witch had avoided him and the majority of townsfolk since she'd come home. In fact, she acted as though she didn't know them—which should have raised red flags for him. Instead, he watched her from a distance, trying to figure her out without being on the receiving end of one of her tongue-lashings. Truth be told, he wouldn't mind her tongue lashings, if it led to her being in their—his and Cian’s bed. “Anything else going on?”
“Nope, just the usual. Vic threw a couple of unruly wolves out for fighting over a female.”
Zane cocked a brow.
“No, they're not her mates. She was goading them on. Swished her tail... figuratively of course,” Cian
stated, wiping down the bar. “Miranda will learn the hard way one day. You don't tease a wolf, especially during the full moon.”
He agreed. Even now as close as they were, he felt the pull of his shift. It made wolves horny, desperate to find their mate and complete the Trinity. Cian and he were part of one; all they were looking for was their third. Zane knew who it was—had known since they were young, but the prickly witch with the sharp tongue didn't seem inclined to give them the time of day nor a lifetime.
He finished his beer and placed the bottle on the polished teak. “I think it's time to shake things up a bit. Don't you agree?”
His partner gave him a wary look. “I don’t—”
“Let's rattle the little witch's cage. See what falls out.” With a wink and growl, Zane pushed off the bar.
“Are you sure we should?”
He shrugged. “Why not?” They’d kept their distance. Been shot down at least once. If they didn’t turn up the heat, they wouldn’t get her. “The worst that can happen is she shoots me down.”
“Again,” Cian replied.
Zane didn't need to be reminded. For weeks since she'd returned to them, he'd tried to figure out the best way to approach her. When those didn't work, he thought about waiting her out. Unfortunately, they were running out of time—figuratively. He wove his way through the growing Friday night crowd over to the small ‘reserved,' section Ava claimed for her own. Jamie sat beside her. Four of Ava's friends had joined them at some point, however none of them paid Jamie any mind. It rankled his hackles. She would be their Alpha female one day; she deserved some respect. She also wasn't an outsider. She grew up there, and she was one of theirs.
Jamie pushed her straw around in her glass in a bored fashion. When she glanced up, her gaze locked with his. Pink, like the color of the sweater she wore—showing off the full curves of her breasts—suffused her cheeks. She squirmed in her chair. Poor thing, she looked like a deer caught in the headlights of an oncoming car. His mouth watered. The feral beast within him saw his mate and sat up in anticipation of taking what belonged to them. Her long auburn hair had been pulled back into a ponytail, exposing the delicate line of her cream-colored neck to his perusal. His blood rushed south, engorging his cock, causing it to throb and press at the front of his pants. What he wouldn't give to lick every inch of her. Zane shook his head, trying to keep his lust filled thoughts at bay.
One step at a time.
“Good evening.” The words were a mere rumble from his chest. “Having a good time?” The soft scent of her arousal curled around him, seizing him by the balls. Oh, yes, her mouth might be a vicious tool she used to keep people at bay, but her body would always give her away. “Because you look good enough to eat, Jamie.”
A look of sheer panic crossed her face as she sipped her drink. An image of those sweet, plump lips wrapped around his cock shot through his mind, and his dick swelled to the point of pain. She shifted in her seat then stood giving him a glimpse of her sweet apple-shaped ass encased in her fitted jeans. They modeled her figure to perfection.
Zane bit the inside of his cheek to keep from smiling when she narrowed her eyes at him. The scent of her disbelief swirled with her waning arousal. She liked him all right, but something also kept her away. He took a step closer to her, encroaching on her personal space, hoping to get her riled up. He used his body as a shield, blocking anyone from hearing their conversation.
Jaime took a couple of small steps back and came to a stop when she touched the wall. He liked having her off balance and unsure. “If that’s one of your pick-up lines, you're going to have to try harder, Sheriff.” Her gaze flicked to the door before coming back to his. “I don’t play these types of intimidation game very well, either.” She made a shooing motion. “Bye.”
“Oh, it's hard all right,” Zane stated. “If I was intimidating you, you wouldn’t be smelling so fucking good.”
Her pretty brown eyes widened, and her gaze dropped to his chest then to his stomach and at the last second, she lifted it. Pity, if she had allowed herself to take her fill of him, she would have seen he had been telling the truth. Instead, he leaned in and inhaled. Her soft, subtle scent floated around him. Her breath hitched as she put her hand on his chest. He closed his eyes and swallowed the groan building in his chest.
“Yeah, well, it won’t work.” She didn’t move.
Stubborn mate. “Dance with me?” Zane took a step back and held out his hand. “Trust me, Jamie.”
“Pfft.” She rolled her eyes. “I'm sure plenty of men have said that exact same thing to a woman, right before they molested them.”
“Molest you?” He growled. A slow song blared through the speakers of the bar. “Molesting you wasn't exactly what I had in mind.”
The smell of her desire swirled around him. Zane savored her uniqueness. Damn. Zane reached up and grasped a lock of her wayward hair. He rubbed the silky tresses between his fingers before tucking it behind her right ear. He didn't miss her soft gasp or the tremble in her hands. He made her nervous, and he liked it.
“What, exactly did you have in mind?” She covered her mouth. The light pink on her cheeks deepened to a crimson hue. “Oh, wow. I shouldn’t have said that.”
He smiled, seeing right through her aloof act. “I plan on fucking you. Often. Until neither of us can move.” He didn't mention Cian. No point freaking her out yet.
“I-I...” Jamie stammered then snapped those sweet lips of her closed. The glare she gave him would have made any lesser of a man wither where they stood. Him, it got his blood pumping and his palms itching to show her just how much he wanted her.
“I believe the answer you’re searching for is, yes.”
She lifted her chin. “You’re wrong.”
“Oh, and how’s that?” He loved the fiery challenge she displayed.
“You think you can waltz on over here and I’d fall at your feet? Dance with you, like I’m some hormonal twit, who sees a great ass and a devastating smile and can’t control themselves,” she huffed stepping up to him. “It might work with all these other women, but it won’t with me. Besides, it’s pretty shitty saying things you don’t mean.”
“You think I have a great ass?” He didn’t bother with confronting her bluster about not being worthy. Zane didn’t have eyes for anyone but Jamie and Cian. The rest of the world, hell, the rest of the bar could eat shit for all he cared.
Some of the starch bled from her, and her lips twitched. “You’re impossible.”
“One dance, Jamie.”
“Zane.”
“Come on. One dance,” he murmured.
“Fine,” she relented. “One dance. Then I’m going home.” Jamie placed a hand in his.
Power pulsed between them and radiated through his body. Electricity crackled along the thickening air between them. He’d never experienced anything like it before, but he’d been prepared for it. It was the final connection. The last piece of his mating. “Do you know what this is?” Zane rubbed his thumb over the marked area of her skin, and she shuddered, intensifying the current running between them.
“A birthmark,” Jamie whispered. “I've had it for as long as I can remember.”
“Has anyone seen it?” He placed his free hand on her hip to keep her near him, and so she’d become familiar with his touch and learn to crave it.
“The birthmark?” A frown formed between her brows, and Zane wanted to rub it away. “I don’t know. I guess my doctor and friends. Why?”
Birthmarks were common enough; a lot of people had them. But, her birthmark signified something more; it meant that she was their destiny. The Trinity, or the power of three, began when his ancestors stepped forward to protect the witches and stop the Salem Witch Trials. It had been decreed every witch would have two wolf shifters as protectors. The spell used to bind the witches to their wolves manifested in the form of a small crescent moon on the inside of the wrist, however, those with a star and the crescent moon, were bound to be fated mate
s, rarer still in modern times. Zane and Cian had the matching one as well. Only theirs were on their chest and right now, his burned like a mother fucker, another sign she’d been their chosen.
“I'm sure people have seen it,” Jamie said. “I haven't made any attempt to hide it. It doesn’t mean anything.”
It doesn’t mean anything? Bull-fucking-shit, it meant everything.
“Can you let go of my wrist? It aches.”
Zane reluctantly released her. She rubbed the area, her thumb working back and forth over the small mark.
“It means more than you can imagine,” he growled as his wolf pushed forward. “Surely, your parents explained the significance of the birthmark to you?” Her mother had broken her vow with the coven when she married her husband, Jamie’s father. She’d kept a low-profile life in town and didn’t engage in pack or coven politics. Yet, wouldn’t it have been prudent to tell Jamie what to expect? Hadn’t they before leaving? Surely, someone did.
“I have no parents.”
Her words shocked him. Of course, she had parents, they loved her so much, they sent her away to protect her. Why wouldn’t she have remembered? What is going on here? Her parents were supposed to be right behind her, while her brothers stayed behind since they showed no sign of having any type of abilities, but were wolves. “I doubt you were found under a cabbage leaf.”
“You're right. I was found on the steps of a church in Rosewood, Massachusetts, and no parents ever came to claim me.” The pain and sorrow in her voice tugged at him. He hated it. “Jamie Bishop is the name the priest who found me, gave me. Local hospitals have no record of me being born around Rosewood, and with no parental leads, it was a big dead end.”
“Are you certain?” He figured the reason her parents never checked in was to keep their location a secret. Now...
“The priest who found me suspected my mother was a young, single girl who carried an unwanted baby to term. If we’re finished here,” she said, stepping around him. “I have a friend waiting for me.”
