The Trouble with Beasts (Howl for the Damned: Book One)

by D. Fischer

  Trouble, Jinx. I say to myself. You do not cause trouble. You are the opposite of trouble. You’re a damn saint. Like a wood nymph. Be a damn wood nymph.

  “Sure.”

  Quickly, I move toward the bar. I don’t wait to see if he follows. Ever since I saw Cinder’s alpha, I haven’t been able to shake this feeling, whatever feeling this is. I can’t even name it. I just feel… off. I can’t believe I’m thinking this, but the prospect of getting laid just doesn’t sound appealing right now. Definitely not with this guy. His cologne is so potent it’s practically pollution.

  Only one stool is empty when I make it to the counter, and I slide across it, comforted by the plush familiar leather. The female shifter next to me pays no mind. Instead, like a purring cat in heat, she openly ogles my dancing partner when he looms over me, hands on either side to grip the edge of the sticky counter.

  I grit my teeth and paste on a smile for Cinder. You’re a wood nymph, Jinx.

  Cinder studies me with knitted brows. I wave a hand, gesturing for my usual. His eyes snap to my dancing buddy while he blindly reaches for the tequila bottle. Then, after filling my tumbler with the rich-colored liquid, he waves the bottle as if to say, “And for your friend?”

  My “friend” doesn’t answer. Instead, he says nothing at all. I turn my head to bark the question, but lips crush against mine, and a slippery tongue invades my mouth. I squeak, wide-eyed, and start to shove him away. Pinned between the bar and a hard, tall body, my disgust quickly morphs to outrage.

  Wood nymph, my ass. They’re horny little bastards, but even they wouldn’t put up with this shit.

  Tucked between his two legs are my own, and I bring them up swiftly. This guy deserves a tap to the family jewels. His body is gone before my knees can collide with his manhood, though. With swollen lips, I blink to where my rude dancer once was and then to the spot on the floor where he’s sprawled across it.

  “The hell?” I whisper, suppressing a gag at the lingering cologne stuffed up my nostrils.

  Jacob is immediately to my right, hands bunched into fists at his sides. Sara, who had almost made it to the bar before a shifter crashed at her feet, gapes at the tossed garbage in horror. Behind her, her own dancer’s face is red with anger. He quickly slides around Sara, reaches down, and plucks his friend off the floor by the sleeve of his shirt.

  “What the hell, man!” my dancer asks, straightening his shirt roughly.

  I look back and forth between Jacob and him. The crowd, who had paused for just a moment to snicker at the shifter on the floor, returns to their conversations and dance. Jacob’s face is relaxed in such a way that it appears deadly. Somehow, the expression is ten times more terrifying than Sara’s dance partner’s.

  I can feel it – his rage. It shivers against my skin uncomfortably. Goosebumps rise along my arms. Rage like this is something anyone could feel.

  “What’s going on here, Drake?” Sara’s dancer asks.

  Wood nymphs, we have a name.

  Jacob answers for Drake, a deep and authoritative tone. “I do not believe the lady wanted your attention.”

  “What the hell are you talking about,” Drake barks. He treads a threatening step forward. The fool. A submissive wolf trying to take on an alpha simply for a warm place to stick his –

  Jacob blinks, slow, deliberate, and unnervingly so. “Or do you enjoy choking women with your tongue while they beat against your chest?”

  Drake’s friend rolls his eyes. “Come on, Drake.”

  “We’re not finished here,” Drake says quietly, contemplating Jacob’s every muscle twitch and every breath.

  “Yes, you are, dude. That’s the Riva Pack alpha. Unless you want me to bring the pieces of your body back to our territory –”

  “I suggest you leave,” Jacob finishes for him. His tone is so calm, but the deadliness of it makes me clench my legs together. What the hell is wrong with me? Am I attracted to him because, for about a minute, he’s my knight and shining armor? Or is it only because Cinder said I can’t have him? I have a thing about wanting what I can’t have, so I’m taking option two.

  The friend leads Drake away, and Jacob’s tense muscles slowly relax.

  Cinder whispers in my ear, leaning across the bar. “Trouble.”

  “I can take care of myself, you know,” I bark at Jacob, refusing to acknowledge Cinder’s reminder. But he says nothing. The coffee eyes linger on me, jaw ticking to my ungratefulness, I’m sure. Then, he simply, but stiffly, walks away. His broad frame disappears into the crowd gathered at the other end of the bar by the door. They’re probably part of his pack, a wise assumption since they keep brushing curious glances at me.

  Whatever. I don’t need this.

  “Don’t take it personally,” Cinder murmurs in my ear once more. “It’s a rare day when Jacob steps in.”

  I spin in my chair to face him and study the scrunch of his brows while he watches his pack. A redheaded, military-looking shifter nods once to him.

  “He chased away tonight’s fun,” Sara sighs, sliding onto a now empty stool next to mine with a harrumph.

  Sighing his exasperation, Cinder thumps a bottle back on the shelf. The glass bottles clink together. “You two have terrible taste in men.”

  I smirk. “So what’s that say about you?”

  “I’m not included,” he grins back.

  I match his smile, and when he turns his back again, I look to where Jacob stands. He doesn’t turn to meet my gaze, but I can tell he knows I’m observing him.

  CHAPTER SIX

  Jacob Trent

  “What was that about?” Rex asks when I slide into a booth next to him. To get away from Jinx’s curious glances, we forced the shifters from this booth. From here, I can just make out the back of Jinx’s head over the sea of bodies. She’s watched me, and now I’m determined more than ever to study her.

  A new mix blares on the speakers, and the dancers hoot and holler. They bounce like a sea of popcorn. It obscures my view until their bodies resume writhing against one another.

  Sweat and pheromones cling to the damp bar room’s atmosphere, and I don’t fail to notice the lights hanging overhead. They catch the shimmer in Jinx’s black hair. Almost a gold shimmer. It captivates me. Makes me curious, even.

  “Jacob?” Rex pushes, leaning forward. The cushion dips and squeaks.

  I blink to break the spell. “She didn’t want his attention.”

  “And you know that how?” He pauses, choosing his next words carefully. I’m dangerously close to breaking someone’s neck, still enraged for reasons I don’t totally understand, and my beta knows it. “You were by us one minute and across the room the next. You’re lucky that no one got injured when you elbowed the twins out of the way.”

  “It was clear, Rex,” I say. He nearly flinches when I shoot him an incredulous look. “She was giving him all the signs that she was no longer interested.” I move my gaze from his own, hiding the rest of my truth.

  Rex may be a supportive guy, but he can read people far better than I can. A sixth sense, almost. His instincts are spot on every single time. Especially when it comes to me, and lately, I’m more animalistic than I am human. Easy to enrage. Easy to provoke. A hole resides inside me, one that was once filled by Allie. And now that she’s gone, anger is trying to fill it.

  Amelia, a psychiatrist who specializes in trauma, has been helping me as much as she can. She’s been a great asset to the pack lately, and to me. Ever since the Realms War, she’s abandoned the humans to their own devices and started aiding shifters who were affected. She knows my issues better than anyone because I had vowed I’d never keep anything from her. I know it’d do me no good to hide what’s going on inside my head. Not to her. Not only has she been helping me grieve for Allie and the rest of the pack we lost, but she’s spent the time to go out of her way to make sure I’m all right as a friend instead of a client. She’s not afraid of my wrath, and for that, I’m grateful.

  My beta is si
lent for several moments, letting me get lost in my thoughts. It’s enough to make me curious, so I look back at him to see if he believes my half-truth. Surveying the crowd, watching two women and their hands roving over one another’s body, he keeps his face carefully blank.

  Just when I assume he won’t say a thing, his lips crack, parting for his mumbled next words. “I’ve known you for a long time, Jacob. Our mothers would set us in the same crib together, our fathers took us hunting together, and our ancestors established this pack together. There’s nothing about you that I don’t know.” He watches me now. “Not once, Jacob. Not once have I seen you intervene. Not even for Allie.”

  “Allie could take care of herself. She never needed me to run to her aide. Besides, she had her brother for that.”

  He snorts, and we both look to Cinder. He’s flirting again, and for the life of me, I don’t know how he manages to run this bar so effectively and treat every woman in here like they have his sole attention. Perhaps he hides the pain of his sister’s death behind a mask of charm and a whole lot of sex.

  Allie and Cinder were close for siblings. Though they looked nothing alike, their personalities could be that of twins. To see him every day, to witness her personality shine through him while he lives on and she’s a husk inside a coffin… No amount of sessions with Amelia can fix that.

  I flex my jaw, pick up my beer, and swig. “The murder has me itchy, Rex. That’s it. We’re looking at rogues.” I hiss the word again for extra emphasis and wipe the strip of foam from my top lip. “Any one of these shifters here could be a rogue. Hell, any one of them could be the murderer herself. And that girl?” I tip the neck of the bottle to Jinx. She’s halfway over the counter, grabbing a liquor bottle. Her ass is in full view, and I trace the curves of it instinctively. “She is not Allie.”

  He smirks. “If you say so.”

  Glaring, I retort, “I do. It was never like that between Allie and me.” A shrug is his only response, so I turn the tables. “You know. I’ve never seen you protective over anyone else either, Rex.”

  He shrugs again. “I’m protective of you.”

  “I don’t count,” I chuff. “I’m a duty. An obligation. Your alpha. I meant you’re never protective over someone outside the pack. Do you get what I’m saying? With all the fixing up you and the pack try to do to me and now you’re trying to grind out some interest to a helpless girl Cinder managed to pluck off the streets like a homeless kitten, I’ve never seen you bring home a woman. Not once.”

  His reddish-blond brow quirks. “Are you saying I need to get laid?”

  “Have you seen how uptight you are?” I paste a small smile on my face, hoping that with the change in subject, we can let go of the topic that’s thoroughly pissing me off.

  I know he won’t answer me, though. Not directly. Rex keeps his sex life as private as his own past. If I hadn’t grown up with him, I would have never known his father used to drag him into the woods and beat him for spilling milk. I would have never known that his mother killed herself to end the abuse. He was a teenager then. By killing herself, she killed her mate too. That’s the only time I’ve ever been grateful for that deep of a connection in a mating bond. Rex’s father was as close to feral as a shifter can get.

  As the conversation dwindles down to nothing at all, we let our thoughts drift, toying with our beers’ condensation puddled on the table. I have no doubt his mind is still on my rescue to the hobo princess just as mine is consumed with memories of both our pasts.

  Since the day his parents died, Rex has always put the pack first. His duties first. It’s what makes him a reliable beta, but it also makes him nosy. With no room in his life for a little fun, he throws any free time he might have to the wind and dives back into his work. I suppose I can say the same thing about myself, but I’d chide him for it if I knew he’d listen.

  Just once, I’d like to see him be happy for himself besides being happy for the pack.

  My glower strays to the slender, small woman across the bar as I rub moisture between my fingers. She’s still with her witch friend, their heads bent in a conspiratorial sort of way. What was her name again? I pucker my lips to try and remember. Jinx. Jinx. Her scent clings to my memory. My wolf’s doing, no doubt. I can’t help but puzzle as to why she smells so different. She’s different. Not only her scent, but I can feel it too; a tingle of awareness while I study her.

  My gaze trails down the back of her head, over the flowing, still glistening, black hair, and down to her waist that sweeps out like an hourglass.

  And then, I come to a decision. I don’t regret stepping in. Perhaps, if I would have stepped in more often with Allie, she would have been more cautious in the Realms War. She might still be alive. She might have been sitting next to me or conspiring with Jinx.

  Jinx Whitethorn

  I can feel his eyes on my back. Feel them like fingers soothingly trailing down my spine. Every moment he watches me, I fight with my body. Don’t look at him. No goosebumps. He does not exist.

  From the corner of my eye, I had spotted Jacob at least ten minutes ago, watching me from a booth. His entire hulking frame is tilted in my direction. It’s nearly impossible to ignore even with this bar full to bursting. What the hell is this guy’s problem? Am I his new charity case? I don’t need saving. I can save myself. I sure as hell don’t need protecting.

  Stiff as a board, I contemplate marching over there and demanding to know what his problem is. There are very few cons to this decision besides angering Cinder, but Cinder will get over it.

  Coming to a final decision, I slam my cup down and swivel in my chair. The quick movement startles Sara, and she squeaks into her cup. I’m only halfway turned when the bar door opens. Two men step in, their expressions hard as the door closes with the wind behind them. They immediately begin searching the crowd. I stiffen again because that feeling – the extra sense that tells me something is wrong – flares in alarm. I examine their necks and see the welt there.

  Again? So soon?

  Heart pounding, I turn my chair forward once more and use Sara’s body to block my face from their view. I’ve never been hunted in the same week more than once. I’ve never had two men to contend with either. Why now? Why are they upping their game?

  Sara opens her mouth as if to ask me what my problem is, but I grab her arm tightly to keep her quiet.

  “We have to go,” I say between my teeth. In a sluggish, intoxicated sort of way, she pulls her arm back to no avail and tries her damnedest to glare at me convincingly. “Now, Sara.”

  Her eyes flick back and forth between mine, and when I look over her shoulder to the men who hopefully haven’t spotted me yet, she follows my gaze.

  “Who are they?” she asks in a sexy voice. The men are both dark and tall, but definitely not attractive.

  I curse the drink she nurses. Without giving her an answer, I wait for a group of giggling witches to pass in front of them, and then I yank on my drunk friend’s arm. Filling a cup with ice, Cinder frowns at our sneaky, quick departure into the back room, but he makes no comment. Cinder may be like a protective big brother, but he understands that I’m an adult, capable of protecting myself. My only hope is he stops the two men who may try to follow us back here.

  Sara trips over her own feet and nearly tugs me down with her. I right her, placing both hands on her shoulders to properly capture her attention. “I need you to pull your shit together. Can you do that?”

  She blows a stray hair from tickling her nose. “You get your shit together,” she slurs, her survey of the room exaggerated and slow. “Why are we back here?”

  Breathing in slowly, I push the air out. “Can you please just listen to me? Can you pull yourself together or not? Because I swear I will shove you in the cooler and lock you inside.”

  Eyes wide to my threat, she bobs her head.

  Dragging her along, I head straight for one of the exits that lead out into the back alley.

  Her heels clack against
the floor as the sound of music is smothered by the back room’s tight space, and I push the door open. A cold breeze washes over our skin, and the stench of the many dumpsters stuffs itself up our noses. Sara covers hers as I pull her into the alley and slam the door behind me.

  “What is wrong with you?” Sara asks, taking her arm back and placing her hands on her hips. She sways on her bright pink stilts. That is the exact reason I don’t wear heels. Who the hell can sensibly walk like that?

  “We have to hurry,” I say, searching the ends of the alley. Both directions lead to a corner, leading to more alleys that will eventually run into the street where Sara parks her car. I begin to briskly walk, not bothering to drag Sara along anymore. Out here, she’s going to have to keep up or get left behind. They aren’t after her anyway, and I start to curse at myself for dragging her into this. I could have left her inside. Made some excuse and left her at the bar where she’d be safe with Cinder. Then, she wouldn’t be making so much noise. Then, she wouldn’t be a drunken liability.

  Our feet patter and echo against the walls of the buildings on either side of the tight alley.

  “Jinx,” Sara slurs and then hiccups. She grabs my hand and tugs weakly in an effort to get me to whirl and face her. “What’s wrong?”

  “Those two guys,” I begin, looking back to the door once more. “There’s been people after me. Those people.” I scan to the roofs but can’t see anything up there. Nothing to warrant concern, anyway. At least no one will be dropping down.

  “What?” she laughs. “What are you talking about? What people?”

  I shake my head. “I don’t know who they are. I can’t explain. We need to get –”

  “Jinx?” Sara says curiously. I lower my gaze from the roofs, but she’s not looking at me anymore. She’s gazing over my shoulder, slim brows almost touching in the center.

  Whirling, I press Sara to my back as two shadowed men work their way toward us.