Untamed Fate (Magic Side: Wolf Bound Book 2)

by Veronica Douglas

  shift takes less skill because you just let go. But I know you can do this. Out

  of all the women I know, your will is the most like iron.”

  “I can’t. This is fucking insane!” I pushed away, but my legs were still

  unsure whether they belonged to a human or a wolf, and I stumbled to one

  knee.

  Jaxson pulled me up. “You’ll master this. That was good for a first

  attempt—though you haven’t quite finished.”

  A subtle smile crept across his lips, and he placed his thumb gently

  against my upper lip and softly pressed on my canine. A dull ache spread

  through my jaw, and my eyes widened with shock as it withdrew.

  “There. No more fangs. Now the shift is complete,” Jaxson purred.

  Rather than leaving my lips immediately, his thumb lingered. I closed my

  eyes, unable to think of anything but his finger softly pressing my mouth. My

  heartbeat quickened as the seconds passed, both of us frozen in place.

  I parted my lips just to feel them drag against his skin.

  The heat in my belly begged me to turn my head left and take his thumb

  into my mouth—to press my lips softly around it and trace my tongue along

  its length.

  Instead, I turned my head right and stepped back.

  He did the same and avoided my eyes. His voice turned hard. “You need

  to practice more. Now. We have time.”

  The stern tone was betrayed by the scent of his desire. It was

  overwhelming, a strong musk redolent with strength and power and

  possessiveness.

  My heartbeat raced. If I could smell all that, what could he detect?

  The scent of one-hundred-percent pure hussy, said the voice.

  I gasped, and Jaxson raised an eyebrow.

  My cheeks burned. How much of the feisty little voice was my own?

  18

  Jaxson

  My phone dinged, and I glanced down. Damian.

  Viper spotted heading into The Bookshelf. Still there.

  Finally, some good news. “Okay, put your claws away. The Viper was

  spotted at an uptown bar. Time for happy hour.”

  Savannah retracted her claws. “Great, I could use a drink after today.”

  So could I.

  Teaching her how to shift had taken every ounce of control I possessed.

  My mind had nearly broken when she pressed her ass up against me, and my

  wolf had howled with need. So now I had to ride beside her, smelling her

  body and desire, and hating her for it.

  Savannah caught up as I headed to the truck. “Where are we headed?”

  The tension in her voice was palpable. This was what we’d been waiting for.

  “A speakeasy called The Bookshelf over in the Circuit—downtown

  Magic Side. It’s in the basement of a bookstore in one of the older buildings.

  Supposed to be hard to get into.”

  “But that shouldn’t be a problem for you, right?”

  “Of course not.”

  She looked down at her outfit. She was still wearing Sam’s clothes. “Is it

  fancy? Am I dressed okay?”

  Sam’s jeans gripped her ass like a glove, and just watching the way her

  cheeks moved as she swayed through the weeds made me want to push her

  up against the side of my truck. Her sweater was too loose and kept slipping

  off her shoulder, revealing a smooth stretch of perfect skin.

  I was losing my senses and my godsdamned mind, but it was hard to pull

  my eyes away. “You’ll be fine.”

  When we reached the truck, she leaned against the door. “I can drive so

  you can navigate.”

  “Not a chance.”

  She twisted her hair alluringly. “Come on, I like your truck.”

  “Good.” I unlocked the doors and swung into the driver’s side. “Then

  load up.”

  A tortuous twenty minutes later, we parked along a side street and headed

  to the bookshop. It was on the bottom floor of an old, art-deco office building

  in an older part of the Circuit. On the window was an etched depiction of

  Death reading a book and drinking a cocktail. Underneath, old-fashioned

  letters spelled out The Bookshelf.

  A bell on the door jingled as I pushed through. The place was a maze of

  overflowing bookshelves that smelled of musty paper.

  A red demon with curling horns smiled at me from behind a counter and

  adjusted his spectacles at the two of us. “Can I help you? We have it all—

  everything your eyes and imagination could desire.”

  The only thing my eyes and imagination desired was my mate. I gritted

  my teeth. It was like lying down on the tracks and wishing for a train to

  arrive.

  I scanned the place for the entrance. “We’re looking to meet a friend for a

  drink. I think she’s already here. Which way in?”

  The demon folded his massive fingers together. “Do you have a

  membership or an invitation?”

  “No,” I growled.

  “Well, then, we’ll have to see if the bartender is interested.”

  We didn’t have time for this sort of game. “Our friend is the Viper. She’s

  waiting for us.”

  “In that case, the cover charge is a hundred. Pick a book off the shelf, and

  I’ll send them down. If the bartender likes them, you can go in.”

  I put my hands on the counter and leaned into the face of the large

  demon. “Do you know who I am?”

  He crossed his arms. “Do you know who I am? The guy who opens the

  door if I want to.”

  I growled low, but Savannah put her hand on my bicep. Her light touch

  cooled my temper even as heat crept along my spine.

  “All we have to do is each pick a book?” she asked.

  He nodded, arms still crossed and staring me down. “Any book. I’ll send

  it down to the bartender, and if she likes your taste, she’ll send you up a

  glass, and you can head down.

  Savannah bit her lip, thinking. “What can you tell us about the

  bartender?”

  “Nothing.”

  “This is ridiculous,” I snarled. “We’re supposed to be meeting someone

  there.”

  “Well, you can wait until that someone comes out. We have seats in our

  reading lounge.”

  My claws slowly began to extend, but Savannah tugged my arm. “Let’s

  just do it.”

  I turned around, grabbed a book off the shelf, and dropped it on the

  counter. Savannah wandered to the back, taking her sweet-ass time browsing

  the titles.

  “Just pick one,” I grumbled.

  “It needs to be the right one.”

  What was it about the woman that compelled her to be as frustrating as

  possible? After an interminably long time, she came back smiling.

  “What did you choose?” Savannah asked me.

  “No idea.”

  She held up her book proudly. It depicted a bare-chested man with a

  cropped beard sitting astride a motorcycle. The title was Rumble Strip: Bayou

  Biker Bears, Book 1.

  My mouth dropped. “You’ve got to be kidding me.”

  “I like what I like.” She shrugged and handed the book to the man.

  “Anyway, being in Magic Side has really broadened my horizons.”

  But biker werebears? Disgusting.

  I crossed my arms. “Let’s get this over with. Time is ticking.”

  The bookseller slid aside a panel in the wall and placed the books into a />
  cubby. He closed it and pulled a cord. Soft squeaking sounded as the

  dumbwaiter descended, and the wheels of my impatience spun. After what

  seemed like an endless time, in which none of us spoke to each other, the

  dumbwaiter rumbled back up and dinged.

  The bookseller opened the door, revealing two books but only one glass,

  which was filled with a finger of golden-brown liquid. He handed it to

  Savannah. “You’re welcome to head downstairs, miss.”

  She took a sip. “Whoa. This is nice.”

  The demon grinned. “The bartender must have liked your taste.”

  “What about me?” I growled, warning resonating in my voice.

  He handed me the book I’d selected. “You’re welcome to sit in our

  reading lounge and enjoy perusing Enchanting Your Yacht. ”

  I felt my wolf clawing at my chest with irritation.

  Rip his face.

  Teeth bared, I glanced at Savannah, whose smug expression did nothing

  to improve my mood.

  I slammed my claws into the desk and leaned forward, letting my alpha

  presence wash over the demon. “You’re going to let us both in.”

  The demonic bookseller backed up but didn’t seem entirely cowed.

  Perhaps he had an innate resistance to being influenced.

  Savannah pushed up beside me and wrapped her arm around mine in a

  way that immediately soothed my temper and aroused my body. “Please. My

  friend is a bit of a brute, and I don’t think he was taking you seriously. How

  about I pick one for him?”

  The demon, whose sudden nervous eye tic indicated he might be worried

  I would crush his skull, nodded. “Yes. Let’s try again. Of course.”

  I waited while Savannah went to the shelves and quickly returned.

  “That was mercifully fast,” I grumbled.

  “I saw it earlier and thought of you.”

  She handed it over, and the man lowered it in the dumbwaiter.

  It came back moments later with a very full glass of whiskey.

  He nodded and handed me the glass. I lifted it to my nose. The aromas

  were bold—honey, almond, and charred oak, with a soft hint of vanilla. I

  took a sip and let the warm liquid linger in my mouth. “This is excellent.

  What book did you offer?”

  The bookseller held up a book with a couple of sweaty, steroid-pumped,

  bare-chested, and tattooed men on the cover. Taming Bad Alphas. He leaned

  forward and whispered, “It’s from our very spicy book section.”

  I clenched my fists tightly and glared at Savannah.

  She smirked. “It got us in, right?”

  The bookseller placed the books on the to-be-reshelved-rack, but she

  stopped him. “Actually, I think we want to buy those.”

  Then she looked at me expectantly.

  The gall.

  “Fine. Whatever gets us in.” I slapped a fifty down. “Where’s the bar?”

  The demon bagged Savannah’s books, then strode over to a shelf of

  historical fantasy novels and pressed an emblem carved in the side. The shelf

  slowly swung open, revealing a dark stairwell. A couple of red bulbs

  flickered to life, and the demon bowed. “Welcome to The Bookshelf. You

  have ten minutes of happy hour left.”

  I pushed past him and headed down the narrow stairs. We emerged into a

  long room with a bar on the left, booths on the right, and tables scattered

  around a stage at the back. The place was lit by deep yellow lights, and the

  walls were lined with dusty volumes. Most people were drinking, though

  there were a few enjoying a cocktail in the company of a good story.

  The tattooed bartender smiled as we approached. “So, which one of you

  is into Biker Bears?” Savannah raised her hand, and the bartender winked at

  me. “Then you must be into those baaaad alphas. I flipped through it. That

  one gets hot fast.”

  My fists clenched. I would make Savannah pay for this. Her insufferable

  smirk was enough to make me want to rip the bar top off. Or her top off.

  Trying to maintain some control over my emotions, I pulled out a wad of

  cash and placed a couple of fifties on the bar. “Two Manhattans.”

  “Sure thing.” The bartender turned away and plucked a bottle of

  vermouth from a surprisingly wide selection on the wall. Manhattans must be

  their thing.

  “Thanks for asking me what I wanted,” Savannah hissed.

  “We’re not staying long.”

  She pouted. “You’re more fun at your bar.”

  I turned and fixed her with a steady gaze. “Because it’s my bar.”

  At my bar, everyone knew not to look too long at the woman I was with.

  Here, all the men kept glancing up at Savannah.

  Our mate.

  She was not. We hadn’t sealed the bond, and we were going to reverse

  her condition. But it pissed me off, just the same.

  I caught a vampire in the corner gazing straight at her with obvious

  intentions. He was looking right past the woman he was with and straight at

  Savannah’s long, elegant neck and exposed shoulder. My claws slipped out,

  and it was all I could do not to flip his table over and ram a broken-off chair

  leg through his chest.

  He looked away when he caught my gaze. I made sure the message was

  unmistakable. To my satisfaction, he whispered to the woman that it was time

  to leave.

  While Savannah examined the selection of whiskey behind the bar, I

  looked around and made sure that every drooling male in the place got the

  same message: Don’t look. Don’t touch. Or else.

  19

  Savannah

  I didn’t recognize a single whiskey on the rack. That wasn’t too

  surprising, considering I’d grown up in Belmont and learned to drink at a bar

  that had well and Jack as its only two options.

  Everything about this place felt like it had been torn from another time.

  The perky bartender returned with our Manhattans, served up in long-

  stemmed coupe glasses with a couple of black cherries.

  I took a sip. The silky-smooth flavors melted in my mouth—herbal spice,

  with rich oak and a hint of underlying sweetness. “Oh, my God, this is good.

  Best I’ve had.”

  Jaxson gave me a grim expression. Apparently, he didn’t appreciate

  competition for Eclipse. He turned back and leaned on the bar. “We’re

  supposed to meet a friend. The Viper. Is she here yet?” When the bartender

  hesitated, Jaxson slowly put four more fifties down. “I’ll probably keep an

  open tab.”

  She licked her lips, then took the money. “In the far back. Table by the

  early-twentieth-century horror section. Lovecraft and such.”

  I twisted so I could see. A single woman about my age sat way in the

  back. She had bobbed brown hair, black jeans, and a broad gold necklace.

  She was reading a book with an almost menacing intensity, and no one was

  sitting anywhere near her, despite the happy-hour crowd.

  “Thanks.” Jaxson took his drink and headed through the bar, and I

  followed behind.

  There were probably twenty guys sitting in the bar, but not one looked at

  me as I walked past. Heat flushed my cheeks. Everyone was dressed in classy

  outfits, and I was wrapped up in someone else’s jeans and an oversized

  sweater. Clearly, I wasn’t even worth
looking at.

  Plenty of women looked at Jaxson, though, and I could practically read

  the thoughts of those who glanced my way.

  You’re not worthy.

  It was true. I was just a LaSalle with dirty little mutant paws. I’d never be

  accepted by him or the pack or anyone in this city.

  A vampire actually slipped out of his table and ran up the stairs after we

  passed. I hesitated.

  Something didn’t add up. I looked back. No one was looking at my ass,

  and I was certain it looked delectable in Sam’s jeans. But the eyes of every

  man were stuck to a menu, to their girlfriend’s smiles, or to the books on the

  wall. Everywhere but me. Not that I liked being ogled, but a little

  appreciation would have been nice.

  Curious, I dropped my purse in front of a man at a round top and bent

  down slowly to pick it up. He practically crawled away from me and went so

  far as to pretend to be suddenly fascinated by the designs on the old tin

  ceiling tiles.

  Jaxson.

  Apparently, it wasn’t just Eclipse for which he didn’t like competition.

  What had he done?

  “Why is every guy in here acting weird?” I snapped.

  “You deserve respect,” he grumbled as we made our way around an

  apprehensive cluster of drinkers.

  “Do you mean you want respect? Maybe I like people looking at me.”

  He spun on me and stopped me in my tracks with his breathtaking golden

  eyes. “I don’t like people looking at you.”

  Fire blazed through me, and heat flowed between my legs. He seemed

  like he was about to throw me over his shoulder or down on the ground. It

  was bullshit. But I liked it.

  “I’m not your property.”

  He turned and kept walking.

  I was about to let him have it when we reached the Viper. My pulse

  quickened.

  In a way, the woman was responsible for all the shit that had befallen me

  since I left Belmont.

  Pain ripped through my fingers as my claws slid out. I bit down on my lip

  and hid my hands behind my back as I fought to get control. Unfortunately,

  my limited technique for that amounted to thinking about how I would rub

  my fingers all over Jaxson’s naked body.

  Being a werewolf was really fucking with my emotions.

  The Viper buried her face further in her book as we approached. It had a

  white cover with the tiny red face of a cat. I craned my neck to catch the title