“Fuck. And no I don’t feel better.” He snapped. “What are you doing here? I was about to call you.” Jared said looking down at the blood soaking through his jeans. “You should have let me kill that shit bag. I love these jeans.” He said, his face locked in a snarl.
“I’m looking for something.” She made a face and returned to the search. Sure she could just hit a store and buy more, but that would be giving up, and she wasn’t in the mood to bend even a little. “So sorry I didn’t alert the media that I was coming.” She rolled her eyes and pushed the hair back from her face as she tisked at a chipped nail. “Buy another pair. This...” She held up her hand. “Has to grow back.”
Her tone was pissing him off. “Enjoy your hunt for whatever you lost.” He said turning to go back inside.
“Fine.” She growled and rubbed under her shades at her eyes that had begun itching the second that she’d sensed him.
Taking hold of the door, he pulled it. Locked. He cursed and stormed past her, down the alley to the front of the building.
She coughed to hide the chuckle when he yanked on the locked door and stomped off.
“I should have known my life would turn to shit the moment I felt anything remotely worth a fuck.”
“Wait! I was going to call you too. What did you want?” Serra forgot about her lost smokes as her heart began to pound in her throat and she felt a little light headed.
He rounded the corner while she was still talking. He didn’t hear her. He was too focused on getting inside and putting space between them. Her scent was making him crazy.
Stepping over something leaking from the corner of the dumpster and that smelled like a cross between death and bad BO, she trailed after him.
Seeing the front door, he pushed through the sea of humans, growling to make them scatter. She was hot on his heels. He tried to lose her in the crowd inside the bar, but the people that saw the blood moved away from him.
He was ignoring her, and it was pissing her off. Okay, he wanted to play like that? Then they’d play. Heels clicking against the hardwoods, her shorter legs worked to try and catch up with his longer strides.
His blood was running down his leg and pooling in his sock. Jared squished along until he got to the men’s room. Pushing the heavy door open, he went inside. Growling, he went into a stall to look at his wound.
The men’s room door shut in her face. Eyeing the door, she glanced over at one of the bears. She was almost positive that it was Brock, who was trying not to laugh and shook his head at her, mouthing, ‘Don’t do it.’ Serra snorted and gave the door a shove, ignoring a jackal, wolf and human male at the urinals that covered themselves, buttoned and zipped in a hurry to beat feet out the door.
The moment she came in, he knew it. Her scent hit him like a Mack truck. He licked his lips and then shook his head. This was bullshit. Why was he acting like this? Looking down at the cut on his hip, it helped push away the feeling of his jeans tightening because she was close.
Her mouth watered and body buzzed as Jared’s scent seemed to fill the room, and she hated it. She was stronger than this mated myth crap, and if it was him, she was happy to tell him so. Leaning her hip against the stall door, she pushed up her shades and rubbed her eyes. “Are you okay?”
“I’m lovely. Thanks for asking. This is the men’s room you know.” He ghosted himself into different clothes and pulled open the door. He went for the paper towels taking some and cramming them against his wound.
“That would explain the guys with their pants around their ankles.” She smirked, dropping her eyes to the floor so that he couldn’t see them as she watched him move to the sinks. She almost told him that he was bleeding, but bit her tongue before he had the chance to rip her a new one for stating the obvious. This was going badly, and she didn’t know how to change it.
“If you want me to go, say the word, and you won’t see me again. If you want to talk, I’ll be in the bar.” Shaking her head and letting her breath out in a long sigh, Serra pulled the door open. “I hope you’re not hurt too badly.” She murmured before stepping through the door and into the crowd and the thumping bass of the music, not sure where she should go other than home.
He stood in there for a few minutes before leaving. His wound still hurting, he went behind the bar and got the first aid kit. He patched himself up then went to find her. He saw her sitting in a booth. He didn’t sit down. He stood next to it. “I can’t tell you to go until we talk about what happened.” He said sliding his shades down to show her his eyes. “Is this real?” He asked wanting to know if this was her doing or what.
Serra jumped when his voice came from above her. She’d been lost in thought, trying to figure out just how fucked she was and if it was him, then was that any better than... Yeah, anything was better than the alternative. She nodded and glanced up at him. Her shades were still perched on the top of her head. Her breath caught in her throat as a wave of relief washed over her when she saw the ring of blue around his pupil. And then things she wasn’t used to feeling... fear, hope, nervousness... made her body feel twitchy and clumsy. She looked down at her fingers that clutched a sweating beer bottle and nodded as tears stung the backs of her eyes. “Yeah, I think so.” She blinked and shook her head as her face flushed. Lifting her beer to her lips, she had to concentrate to swallow. “I guess we do need to talk.”
“It seems we do.” Watching her, Jared crossed his eyes after putting his shade back on his face. He could feel her emotions, and he didn’t know what to do.
Pulling a beer from the bucket of ice and bottles on the table, she held it out to him, hoping that her hand didn’t shake. “And we need to drink. While sitting down.” She tried to laugh, but it was a lame attempt. She sighed and shook her head. “What do we do now?”
Jared took the beer and slipped into the booth across from her. “More than a drink is needed.” He sipped the beer after opening it and looked at her. “Do you know how this works?”
Serra shook her head no, smiling limply. “Not really. I mean I got the basics. Like being stuck with each other or else.” She snorted and pushed the hair back from her face as she looked up at the ceiling, wanting to look anywhere but at him. “This is so fucked up.”
Jared nodded and drank his beer. “Yes, it is, and that’s the basics of it. Also, there will be no children for you if you reject me.” Jared thought a moment. “I think that’s how it works. I’ve never been rejected. Though being together doesn’t mean shit. You can still go fuck other guys.”
Her hands that were fidgeting with her beer stilled and her blue eyes rolled up to meet his hazel ones. “Gee. Thanks. I was so worried about that.” She sneered at the cold wave that washed through her, showing her disgust and irritation of being allowed to screw whoever she pleased. The idea of jumping anyone’s bones made her want to puke. Except for the male sitting across the table from her and knowing that truth made her want to be a little sick too.
“So you get mated all the time? All old hat and shit. Nice.” She was being bitchy, but he was being an asshole, so they were even. “What if you reject me?” She asked because right now she had no doubt that he would.
“Your tits fall off.” He sneered sarcastically. “Yes. I just go around fucking everyone and see who I end up tied to, so my shit can be worthless forever. It’s my version of Russian Roulette!” He growled at her.
“Good to know.” She growled back, rolling her eyes and finishing the beer. “I get it. You’re not happy about this. I don’t blame you, but you don’t have to be a prick about it.” She had to force her fingers to stop squeezing the glass bottle before it cracked and drew attention that she didn’t want.
He was a prick. Really? Like she was Mary Fucking Sunshine! Who the fuck did she think she was? Just because her daddy was the Panther Boogie Man? It didn’t mean shit. If it weren't for him, her mother would be dead. Jared’s mind started back talking. The whole time his face was still as stone.
He smiled at her
sweetly and then flipped her off. Slamming his beer down on the table, he got up. “Princess you have no idea how much of a prick I am. You’re the one who rubbed herself on me. And you have no idea the hell I’ve been through in my past. Mating is something most people dream of. For me, it’s a fucking nightmare.” His eyes flared. Pulling some money from his pocket, he threw it at her. “Thank you for the beer, Serra. I appreciate it.” Then he stormed off. Rage rolled off him. He headed for the pool room on the other end of the bar, hoping that it would be far enough away from her.
A few seconds ago, she wouldn’t have been able to put a concise label on what she was feeling. Not true now. Now she was seeing red and could feel her pulse, fueled by blind rage, pounding at the base of her neck and temples. And when he threw the money in her face? He might as well have thrown napalm on a fire. The bills exploded into flame, burning, and the ashes were falling on the table. She didn’t care that someone might have seen. She was fighting to knock down the need to burn everything around her to the ground and barely getting a handle on it.
Wait. He didn’t... Had he just called her princess? PRINCESS??? Her? Fuck that! Fuck this. And fuck him! Dying was better than dealing with this shit. Yeah, maybe she had been the one rubbing on him, but she hadn’t tied his ass down, so he could go to hell as far as she was concerned.
A popping sound brought her out of her mental rant as the bottle she’d been holding shattered, embedding shards of glass in her palms and fingers. Serra was too angry to feel it, but it was the perfect metaphor for her life. She watched the blood bead, pool, and drip. “A dream, my ass.” She murmured under her breath, pulling the largest piece of amber glass from her palm and dropping it on the table before getting up. She watched his back disappear into the crowd, the anger bubbling up again and telling her to follow. Serra took three steps before it all hit her and her feet stalled. Closing her eyes, she let her head fall forward to hang loosely on her shoulders. “I give up.” She whispered to no one. Lifting her eyes and squaring her shoulders, she changed direction and headed for the door.
Glancing back toward the back room before she stepped outside she mindlinked him. ‘And what you don’t know about me could fill a book. Sorry, I fucked your life, my pampered ass won’t bother you again.’
Jared ignored her mindlink as he braced his hands on the walls of the back room trying to control himself. As he stood there, two males came in through the door.
“So what’s the plan? You can’t just ask the elders to give you his spot. The tribunal seats don’t work like that,” one said to the other. Jared turned to see two tall red headed males.
The other scratched his goatee. “Simple. We go after Damion’s daughters. One of them was, or is, in the bar, as we speak. Little bitch should be easy to handle.” He grinned at his partner.
Jared’s eyes widened behind his shades. Should he tell Serra to run or kill these fucks here and now? His mind raced. Both redheads looked at him.
“Problem buddy?” The first said. Jared ignored them. “Yo Buddy, you deaf!? What if he was listening?”
“We could kill him. Makes shit easy.”
Jared snarled at them.
“So you ain’t deaf. Good to know,” the first said as they started for him.
Blinking against the brightness of the sun, Serra reached up to flip her Oakleys over her eyes, hissing when a piece of glass in her finger moved. Leaning against the wall, she inspected her ruined hands, slowly picking the shards of glass out of her skin and dropping them to the ground, not caring where they landed. Glancing up, she noticed that people had stopped to stare at her, some with concern and more than one with horror and disgust stamped on their faces.
Sighing, she pushed off the wall and headed down the alley to the back parking lot. She was too pissed to ghost home right now. She needed to walk it off before she accidentally went Fire Starter on everything. “Let it go,” she whispered to herself as she passed a row of dinged up, dirty Harleys that had seen better days. A familiar scent stopped her. Turning and looking around, she followed the smell to the leather jacket thrown over the cracked black leather of the pad that barely passed as a seat on the last bike in the row. It was familiar, but she couldn’t place where she knew it from.
Shaking her head and stopping herself just before she ran one of her bloody hands through her hair, Serra sighed and went back to the pacing that wasn’t doing shit to squash the need to kill something.
Jared needed to get away from them. He could sense that Serra had left the building. As they came at him, he picked up a pool cue. “Look we have rules, here.” Which was one rule, don’t fuck with the staff. They laughed and pulled out a Glock apiece. Jared knew he couldn’t do much about guns in this form. “Put that shit away,” he said twirling the stick.
Serra’s eyes kept coming back to that jacket draped over the bike as something kicked her fight or flight instincts into high gear. That scent was like... Her throat closed as it all slammed into place. The dark alley and that smell.
They opened fire on him, and he dove under the pool table. Chaos broke out at the sound of gunfire and screams mixed with shit breaking filled the bar. Jared pulled his legs in as quick as he could, but it was too late. They had gotten him in both calves. Pain ripped through his legs. Fuck this, he thought as he shifted under the pool table and crawled out on the other side. The males were gone. Someone started screaming about a panther loose in the bar. Jared took off running for the back door, still bleeding and in pain. He made it outside before he got dizzy and passed out cold in the parking lot.
Muffled pops of gunfire came from inside. Serra’s heart froze in her chest. Jared was in there. Fuck it. She was done with running. If they killed her, then Jared would be free to go back to whatever the hell it was that he did. Balling her hands into fists, she turned and stomped toward the back entrance, reaching out to open the door or yank it off its hinges if it was still locked.
The door exploded open making her jump back into a crouch as a strangled growl slipped through her lips. A panther hit the pavement, skidding on the asphalt as he went down. The smell of blood hit her, but it was Jared’s scent that knocked her back on her ass. Scurrying to him, Serra lifted his head and pulled it into her lap as her hand on his chest told her that he was still breathing.
Her heart hammered. Concern replaced her need to kill him. She was losing her damn mind if her whiplashing emotions were any indicator. What the fuck had she missed? Forcing herself to calm her breathing she concentrated on centering herself. She had to get him away from here and to somewhere safe.
Closing her eyes, as her fingers stroked his fur, Serra ghosted them back to the bed at her house. Grabbing some towels from the bathroom, she wrapped them tightly around the panther’s hind legs after checking to see if there was both an entrance and exit wound. There wasn’t. Pressing against the bleeding holes in his skin, she pulled her phone from her back pocket and typed awkwardly with one thumb, demanding that Ozzy tell her where to find a doctor or healer that wouldn’t ask a lot of questions.
Jared laid there still, as his body tried to heal. With the bullets still in him, it was useless.
Serra got no answer, and she couldn’t keep waiting. Her kind healed too damned fast, and they needed to get the bullets out now before the muscle reknit around it and caused more trouble and pain when they found someone that knew what the hell they were doing. Sliding her hand over his flank, she knelt on the floor and peeled back one of the towels. She ghosted in and opened the first aid kit that Damion had insisted she have and know how to use. Hissing at the sharp sting of the alcohol that she poured over her cut hands, she braced herself before feeling the wound to locate the bullet.
“If you’re going to attack me for this, do us both a favor and go for my throat, please.” She whispered as her eyes focused on the wound. Taking a deep breath, she palmed his leg and picked up the surgical tweezers. “And if you could make it quick, I’d be grateful.”
Jared let out a
pained grunt and didn’t move. He knew she was trying to help him. The pain knocked him out again. Once she was done, his body started to heal. He lay there playing possum not sure what to do. He was shocked that she’d come to his aid.
His scent was killing her, making her want to lay down and curl herself around him while he healed. Serra snorted. What the hell was he doing to her? Not that it mattered. He’d made his feelings clear where she was concerned. Ghosting away the used supplies, she closed the kit and shoved it under the bed. She slid her fingers through the black fur of his neck telling herself that she did it to be reassuring to the unconscious male, not that she couldn’t fight the urge to touch him. She knew better. Tucking the hair behind her ear, she backed away from Jared and left the room, closing the door behind her quietly. She needed to put some distance between them before she did something else they’d both regret.
Once she left, Jared opened his eyes. He looked around the room for a moment. Her scent hit him hard, and the need for her was so strong that it strangled his heart. ‘Fuck.’ his mind started picturing how nice it would be to have her next to him her hands in his fur. ‘No thinking with the downstairs brain. She and her family are in danger.’ He needed to tell Salvation or Ozzy. Hell, even her father would be good. Anyone, but her.
Serra couldn’t shake his scent or the way that her body fired to life and was drawn to him. It was like magnets had been implanted under her skin, and she was hanging on for dear life, trying to resist the pull. She kept walking, closing doors and trying different rooms. Nothing worked. She couldn’t think, not like this. Finally, she found herself outside, sliding her back down the fence on the far side of the pool with her eyes locked on her bedroom window above. “Get over it, for fuck sake,” she growled at herself. Hate it or not, she wanted him. Badly. “Stop being an idiot.”
She palmed her phone to see that Ozzy hadn’t hit her text back. That was weird, but she was too focused on Jared’s being just up a few stairs to worry about it. Instead, she typed. [One of them is in NOLA. I caught his scent at a bar called The Pit.] Hitting send, Serra was amazed at how calm she was about it all, or maybe she was just past caring anymore. Them or her, only one was going to survive, and she didn’t give a shit which.
The Mating (Black on Black, #1) Page 11
