by Shona Husk
“Yes… Do your flowers need water?” She didn’t care about the flowers she’d put on the other desks. She’d done it to brighten the place up. Campbell had thought there was more to the move and hope had gleamed in his pale eyes before she’d mentioned putting them everywhere. Reggie Holt hadn’t been in all day.
“They’ll be fine overnight.” He shut his door. Alexis pressed her lips together and thought about making a fuss, but when Peyton closed the distance between them the flowers didn’t seem so important. He slid his backpack onto his shoulder. “I’ll walk you to the station?”
“That would be lovely.”
He was close enough now that if she leaned in she’d be able to kiss him. With her heels on they were almost the same height. Her tongue traced her lower lip. She shouldn’t. They’d agreed not here.
Then where?
He hadn’t offered to take her to his home or escort her all the way to hers.
They’d barely even had a first date. She shouldn’t be throwing herself on his bed when they weren’t even dating. But she didn’t care as much as she would’ve last week. She’d been waiting for him to do something for so long that she wasn’t going to rein him in if he wanted to jump her. She bit back the sigh that wanted to form, though it seemed once again he wasn’t going to do anything. Did she have to do everything?
They stood, not touching in the elevator as it went down. Far enough apart that if security was watching the camera there would be nothing of interest to see. Maybe once they were out of the building he’d make a move. If he didn’t, she would. She didn’t have time to waste waiting for him. Glaciers moved faster. When they stepped out into the cold evening air she inhaled the night, filling her skin with the blessed cool.
“Aren’t you cold?” Peyton was frowning again, as though something about her perplexed him.
“No, it’s rather stuffy in there, don’t you think? They have the heat up too high.” Out here she could breathe and expand and be as big as the stars.
She glanced around, disappointed there were no cats waiting for her. She caught the thought and held it, unlike so many others it didn’t drift away like smoke on a breeze. Were the cats waiting for her? She smiled and shook her head. What a silly notion.
“It’s a beautiful night. It must be a full moon.” She put her hand on Peyton’s arm.
“First day of it,” he said gruffly, as if he didn’t like the moon at all. “Come on.”
They would take the same train line but would go home in opposite directions. She’d learned that a year ago and this wasn’t the first time they’d walked together or ended up at the station on opposite sides of the tracks. It was the first time they’d touched. Being this close to him made her body tingle.
He didn’t shake her hand off and they walked in silence for a bit as she tried to think of something to say.
“What revelation did you have over the weekend to do all of this?” He flicked the ends of her hair.
She didn’t know exactly. Only that when she’d woken up on Sunday morning she’d wanted more than living small and being safe. She wanted to jump and fly and be more. There had to be more than this, more than the small life her parents had. She wanted to be the cat, not the mouse. She had vague memories of her grandmother, mostly her cats, and how vibrant her house had been. In contrast, her father had always been about not taking risks. There were rumors that Gran hadn’t been great with money, that she put her cats first and had left no inheritance, which had annoyed her parents. She remembered their arguments. “Boredom. I’m tired of waiting for life to happen to me.”
Peyton nodded. “I get that. You know life bites back sometimes?”
Had he been bitten? “Yes…but I want more.” She stopped and faced him and drew in a breath. She had to say something. “I want you.”
He glanced up at the moon. For a second his eyes seemed to catch the light and flash green like a wild creature’s. “I know. I’ve known for the last two years. My father was notorious for his office affairs. I heard all about it when I first started at the family firm.” He held her gaze. “I don’t want to be painted the same way.”
“Which is why you want me to work for someone else.”
“Even that may not be enough. People will talk. They will assume.”
“Let them.” She stepped closer, needing to feel his lips on hers. He was almost hers. “We know the truth.”
“The truth doesn’t always matter.” But he didn’t step back.
“So we keep it out of the office for as long as we can. Come to my place.” Her lips brushed over his. She needed to taste him and make him moan.
His hand slid over her hip and he finally returned the kiss. His lips moved against hers, then his tongue darted in and she welcomed him. The stubble on his chin was rough and his lips were cool. Yes…now he was hers. Something moved within her. A coiling of hunger and pleasure.
He drew back with a gasp like he’d received an electric shock. “Tonight isn’t a good night.”
“Huh?” But the kiss. And he wanted her. “Why?” She resisted the urge to stamp her foot. Something had changed. He was slipping away and she didn’t know why.
He smiled, but the edges were tight. “We don’t need to rush.”
She’d been waiting so long she wanted to rush. She wanted it all now, and who was he to deny her? “I thought…”
“I do, but not tonight. Let’s go on a date first. Dinner on Friday?”
Friday? That was four days away. She bit back on her annoyance. How could he brush her off? She flicked her hair and considered. “Sure.”
She walked toward the stairs. He followed. Good boy.
“Alexis.”
She turned on the top step.
He grasped her hand, his skin cool and his touch firm like he really did want her. “You’d tell me if there was something going on. If you were in some kind of trouble?”
“There’s nothing going on.” Not between them. Not at home. Not anywhere. Her life was one giant rut. “And I’m not in any trouble.”
“Are you sure?” There was something about the way he said it that made her wonder if she was in some kind of trouble. But only for a moment. She’d never been better.
She laughed. “No. Would you like a warning next time I color my hair?” He released her hand, a dark smudge on his thumb. The metallic scent of blood caught on the air. “You’re bleeding again.”
“Must have reopened it.” He put his thumb to his lips and licked it clean. “I’ll see you tomorrow.”
“I can’t change your mind?”
That moment of hesitation, and the look of longing in his eyes, but he was going to say no. He had too much honor. She loved that about him. And hated it. She didn’t wait to hear the words that would let her down gently. She made her way swiftly down the stairs, losing herself in the crowd. Annoyance burned in her blood. How had he resisted her?
Chapter 4
Peyton sipped his wine. The first glass had gone down too quickly with the leftover lasagna he’d reheated. His fingernails lengthened against the glass, hooking and becoming claws. He’d watched them change so many times since he’d been bitten, but it still fascinated and horrified him.
It happened faster in the moonlight. He shouldn’t sit on the dining table, arms resting on his knees to watch the moon creep higher, but he couldn’t resist either. He closed his eyes but could feel his claws growing. How could he have even thought about sex with Alexis tonight?
How could he ever explain this to anyone?
It wasn’t just his claws. His hair thickened. His stubble now looked like five-day growth and his chest hair was more of a mat than usual. The excess hair would wash away in the shower. His nails would need cutting, but the claws would be gone. He ran his tongue over his teeth knowing they’d be sharper than a human’s, but still less lethal than a hellhound’s.
The urge to shift and run free was there, pulsing with every beat of his heart. The desire as strong as the urge to accept
Alexis’ invitation. So tempting…but she’d wonder what the hell was in her bed. Even if he didn’t shift, he couldn’t hide what happened to him over the full moon.
He opened his eyes and rested his head against the window frame. This was his favorite spot during the full moon and the only time he ever sat on the table. But from here he could watch the moon rise and drink while he pretended that he didn’t want to run the streets on four feet. He shouldn’t entertain the idea of dating at all. He’d managed to avoid it for the last four years, with only the occasional…take out…to curb his hunger. If he gave up his magic would She also take this curse from him? It would almost be worth it. Not that She viewed it as a curse. The Morrigu called the bite a gift. If it was a gift, he hadn’t worked out how to use it. It wasn’t a gift he wanted, nor could he regift it. He wouldn’t wish this on anyone.
He finished the glass of wine but didn’t move.
Ever since he’d been bitten, his life had been unravelling. First he’d had to give up working magic with the coven so he didn’t suddenly shift. Then he’d realized he had to give up dating. Did he have to give up his connection to his goddess too? He rubbed his chest, sure it ached but equally sure the ache wasn’t physical. He’d always had a connection and now She’d throttled it to bring him to heel.
He didn’t have to obey.
Like everyone else, he had free will.
He could drop his human life and live as a hellhound. No one would give a damn. He poured another glass of wine.
It wasn’t just his problem that made him cautious about going home with Alexis. The cut on his thumb was still open. He’d used blood magic twice in a day, but not enough to bring on a shift—the first time that had happened in the coven everyone had freaked out, including him.
Magic called to magic.
And while he couldn’t feel any magic on Alexis, there’d been something in her kiss that he couldn’t quite place. Was she bespelled? That would account for the wild changes. As much as he liked the change, he also missed the old Alexis—the simmer had been fun.
It had been safe.
There was now something very unsafe about her that made him want to grab her hand and not let go, but he got the feeling if he did, he wouldn’t be able to let go even if he wanted.
He put the glass down and swung his legs off the table. Even they were hairier. His gut was telling him there was magic involved even though he couldn’t feel it or smell it—the hellhound in him was very good at sniffing out magic—and he’d been a practicing witch for long enough to trust that feeling.
His breath caught as he remembered that without the Morrigu’s power he was barely a witch. And if he wasn’t a witch, who was he?
He took another drink of wine. He’d had too much alcohol to do any workings, and at the moment with the moonlight streaming in like liquid silver any workings might push him over the edge. Come dawn, when the moon lost its draw, he’d cast about and see what magic he could find.
Peyton’s phone buzzed and someone was knocking on his door. He glanced at the screen. Mason, why was he calling when it was barely light out? He ignored the call and pulled on pajama pants.
“I’m coming,” he snarled, the hellhound in his throat giving him more growl than usual. He hadn’t showered and the extra hair clung to him. His nails were rather feral and he needed a shave to get rid of the beard that had formed overnight.
He stormed through the kitchen; last night’s empty wine bottle and dirty dishes still needed to be dealt with. He’d binged three episodes of the historical soap-drama that he’d accidentally got hooked on instead of cleaning up.
Next to the door was a broom, which in the right hands made a handy weapon. He unlocked the door with one hand but kept the other on the wall, near the broom. His body blocked the opening.
Mason stood on the other side, phone in hand, looking like he’d skipped his morning coffee—hair askew and clothes hastily thrown on—which never went well for anyone in his immediate proximity. “Going to invite me in?”
Peyton stepped back. Even if he didn’t want to, Mason wouldn’t take no for an answer and Peyton was still a member of the coven that Mason was in charge of. His hand slid away from the broom, but the make-do weapon was noted by Mason—a flick of his gaze and nothing more.
“Why are you here?” Peyton shut the door.
“Where were you last night?”
“Here.”
“All night?”
“Yes.” Now he needed a coffee. He shoved a pod into the machine and got out two cups, knowing that Mason wouldn’t say no. “Why?”
“Are you sure you were here?”
The machine spat out the first cup and Peyton put it on the counter for the coven leader. Mason didn’t bother with things like sugar.
“I got through a bottle of wine and went to bed.” He was regretting that bottle as his head pulsed in what promised to be a grand headache if he didn’t do something about it soon. He hadn’t even put the lasagna dish in the sink to soak. Usually he’d have done the dishes straight away, but the part of his brain that cared about things like house work didn’t function so well around the full moon.
“Your window is open.”
“It was open while I ate dinner.” He retrieved his cup from the machine and made it drinkable by adding milk and sugar.
Mason watched.
Peyton was acutely aware of the effects of the bite. He knew how bad he looked before cleaning up. He took a sip of coffee, his skin prickled under the witch’s stare. Mason thought he’d shifted and done something. The lack of trust burned. Aside from a few accidental shifts, he’d never hurt anyone except himself—a hellhound bite couldn’t be cut out, it just reformed. The cutting and the reforming had both been unpleasant. “What happened?”
Peyton hoped it wasn’t another hellhound accidentally released by some wannabe demon summoner with no clue. Lucifer was just another deity and one who rarely responded. Most spells to summon Him opened up a doorway to what most people would call hellish realms and let other things slip through. Summoning any kind of deity was bad news unless the summoner was a witch by blood, not by book. “Not another hellhound?”
If it was, he couldn’t let the others tackle it. He’d have to help.
“I don’t know. I was hoping you could tell me.” Mason put down his empty cup. “A man was found mauled. They are going to have to use dental records to ID him.”
Peyton wrinkled his nose and ran his tongue over his teeth. There was nothing caught in them. His nails weren’t bloodied. He hadn’t gotten out and killed a man.
“You aren’t sure where you were.” Mason put his hands on the counter.
“I was here. You’re making me worried.” New York was not the best city to live in for a hellhound shifter.
He should live somewhere more rural where he could slip out his back door and into the forest, but he’d never gone to sleep and run wild. He’d never lost time. Or he could beg the Morrigu to take back the magic and the bite and everything.
He glanced at Mason. He couldn’t tell his mentor what She’d told him. Mason had been more of a father than his own. His father had only attended coven meetings when he absolutely had to—turned out he’d used coven business to cover his affairs. But Peyton loved the coven. Learning magic and learning to fight. He’d found a place where he was wanted.
Now they just needed him. No one else could draw up contracts or had such skill with blood magic.
“I was worried it was you. You don’t let the beast out enough. One day it will slip your leash.”
“It’s under control.” His claws and excessive hair betrayed his words.
Mason lifted an eyebrow, clearly not believing it any more than Peyton did.
He wanted it to be under control, but it was getting harder. The call was louder each month. “Maybe I’ll come down tonight. Pace the floor.”
“Might be a good idea. Until we work out what happened.”
“You really think it was me?
”
Mason didn’t reply immediately but the silence was everything Peyton needed to know. The first stab of distrust tore open skin and cracked ribs trying to get to his heart.
Peyton concentrated on his coffee, unable to look at Mason. “When did you stop trusting me?”
“I haven’t stopped trusting you. I worry about you.”
“I’m not my father.”
“You’re following his footsteps. The distancing—”
“Because I can’t do anything without the hound taking over.” He slammed his cup down. The handle snapped off. He breathed in and tried to contain the anger that bubbled closer to the surface. Another side effect of the full moon. He exhaled. “This isn’t what I wanted and She won’t take it back. I don’t know how to be a witch and a hound.”
“And you aren’t taking steps to learn, to integrate the new power.”
Had She said something to Mason? Is that how they all saw it, as some fabulous new power? They’d never felt their joints and bones reform, the clawing from inside to get out, or had to worry about spending the day in the office getting hairier by the hour. Sometimes he worked from home just so he didn’t have to worry. It wasn’t a gift: it was a gag that had taken magic from him. “I’ll be there tonight.”
“I’ll let you know what I find out about the vic. Thanks for the coffee.” Mason showed himself out.
The last thing Peyton wanted was another case while he had no connection to the Morrigu. But he couldn’t allow another hellhound to tear up his city. He forced a breath out. This was Her test, the one he needed to pass to be let back into the fold. How could he do anything when he had no magic?
“I’m sorry, Mr. Campbell isn’t available. Can I take a message and get him to call you?” Alexis typed the details into the email she would send to Mr. Campbell. He had clients chasing him and he hadn’t shown up for his first meeting. She’d tried calling him, but it just went through to voicemail.
It wasn’t like him to be negligent about his work. That and his leering were the two things he could be relied upon. Not like Reggie Holt, who often waltzed in late. She’d learned never to book a meeting for him before ten, or after lunch on a Friday.
