by Tara Lain
They played for another half hour—enough to bring Jazz up to bat. By that time, Donald had shown the true size and shape of his asshole and Jazz had chewed the inside of his cheek bloody trying to keep from expressing his disdain. When Donald hit a good smash to right field again, Jazz took a breath and didn’t use any extra powers to bring it down. Only he wasn’t really sure where his so-called human power ended and his wolf power began, so he ended up doing less than he could have. But the thanks he got for his self-control was asshole Donald yelling, “Skinny dork.” Just because it was true, that didn’t keep him from wanting to punch Donald in the face.
So when Donald pitched a fastball to Jazz, he barely held back and smashed the thing so hard, the wrapper practically unraveled. Home run! In fact, a three-run homer and a win for his team. It was even worth the narrow-eyed look Seth, who stood with Lindsey near the governor’s table, sent him.
Carla didn’t hold back. She jumped up and down and clapped, then ran over and gave Jazz a big hug. That totally pissed off Donald, who shared dirty looks with the three members of his brainless squad.
With Carla beside him, Jazz walked back to Seth and Lindsey, who were eating cheese and fruit and sipping champagne—or rather Lindsey was. Seth nursed a beer. He set it aside and extended his hand to Jazz, then pulled him in for a hug.
Carla tugged at Jazz. “Come on, you need some food.”
“Don’t mind if I do.”
She started walking, and Seth grabbed Jazz’s arm. “Be discreet, okay?” Even though Seth was human, he took the secrecy of the pack very seriously. Cop instincts.
Jazz nodded. “Yeah, sorry. Showing off, I guess.”
“I understand. That dude defines asshole. Just be careful.”
Jazz nodded at Seth and took off after Carla. He should’ve been more careful. Still, Donald deserved what he got, the asswipe. Jazz shook his head. He figured it had to be easier for the other teenage werewolves—they mostly mixed with the pack and were home-schooled. His mom and Pop-Pop had thought he’d be better off in public school. He’d made it through okay, but he’d sure had to bite his tongue a lot.
Jazz stepped into the food line behind Carla, and she flashed him a smile.
Maybe he got along so well with humans because he felt weird around his own kind. These people were nicer to him than the Marketo and Harker Pack members the previous night.
“You’re awfully quiet there, dude.” Carla grinned up at him.
“Sorry.”
“What’s wrong?”
He shrugged and grabbed a plate as they got to the end of the buffet line. “I guess I got a little cocky in that ball game. I feel bad about it.”
“Is that what your brother-in-law was talking to you about? You looked a little put out.”
“Yeah. They don’t like me to get all up in myself.”
“Oh. Like thinking you’re the GOAT?” She cocked him a saucy smile. “Tell Seth I said he should lighten up. Donald Evenride’s trash. A total ratchet. He needs somebody to show him what’s what.”
“Does your mom like him?” He already knew the answer.
“My mom doesn’t miss much. She knows what he is.”
“Hey, I don’t want to talk about him. Let’s eat!” He loaded his plate with sliced roast beef, chicken, turkey, and ham, and then he remembered he was surrounded by humans, so he added some salad. They carried their food over to a bench under the trees so they could see the stage area where Governor Mendes would address the crowd.
Carla chewed on her chicken sandwich. “My dad’s got a big surprise today.”
“Oh? What is it?”
“Hey, it’s called a surprise for a reason.” She swallowed. “I’ll tell you that you’re going to be lit, and my clue is ‘your very fave.’”
“My favorite what?”
She stared at his plate as he inhaled the piles of meat. “Clearly not your favorite lunch, because that seems to be on your plate. How can you eat like that and never gain a pound?”
He shrugged. “Wish I knew. I’d sell people the formula.”
“Anyway, the next clue is ‘you think she is the GOAT.’”
“Oh? Greatest at what? Hmm? So the surprise is a she. Is it somebody famous?”
“Sort of.” She grinned.
“My favorite singer?” He cocked his head. “Actually, I’m not sure who my favorite singer is, so I don’t get how you’d know that.”
“Not a singer.” She shook her head and took another bite.
The governor’s voice rang out over the park. “Friends, thank you all for joining us here today to celebrate a wonderful summer in Hartford. My family and I are delighted to spend this time with you. And I have a special surprise. At the very last minute, we discovered that a native daughter of Connecticut, and a very dear friend, was going to be in the area, and we couldn’t resist inviting her. To our shock and joy, she said yes! Friends, may I present the head of one of the greatest organizations in the world today that fights for peace and harmony among all living things—the great Lysandra Mason, CEO of the Society of Being.”
Holy crap. Jazz’s mouth fell open as the tall, slender, classically beautiful woman walked up the stairs of the platform and took the microphone. She wore a casual dress, Keds, and a sun hat, and except for her unique, exotic beauty that stood out in a crowd, she could have been any of the young mothers or professional women in the park.
Jazz wanted to soak her in through his pores. What a force. She toppled corrupt governments, struck fear into the hearts of craptastic political leaders, hugged trees, protected whales, and saved more kids, LGBT and otherwise, than any single person he knew of.
Just staring at her, he could barely breathe. She said some nice things about Connecticut, talking about the happy years she’d spent here when she was little. She also said some very cool things about Governor Mendes, which made Carla smile big.
What was it about this woman that pulled at Jazz? She glowed with intelligence, vision, and guts. He’d felt it when he saw her on TV, but in person it amped up a hundred times. It was like evangelism. He wanted to go on stage and put his hands on her feet or something. Why? Sure, she was inspiring, but this was more.
He inhaled but, oddly, couldn’t quite get a clear sense of her scent, beyond the soft perfume she wore. Man, that hardly ever happened, not with his super nose.
When Carla began to applaud, he realized Lysandra had stopped talking. He leaped to his feet and clapped like a crazy man as she hugged Governor Mendes, then walked off the stage. Governor Mendes started speaking again, but Jazz kept staring at Lysandra Mason. When she reached the bottom step, a hand came out to help her, and she took it with a smile. Jazz looked at the young man who’d helped, and his mouth fell open.
Carla said, “What’s wrong?”
“Oh, nothing.” He swallowed hard. “Uh, I just thought I saw someone I know.”
She followed his line of sight and then grinned. “So you thought you knew Lysandra’s nephew?”
“Uh, is that who that is?”
“Yes. She doesn’t go anywhere without him.”
“Nephew?”
“Yeah. Maybe ‘nephew.’” She made air quotes. “Dad says he showed up in her life a few years ago and never leaves her side.” She sighed. “But man, he’s gorgeous, isn’t he?”
Jazz practically got whiplash, he looked at her so fast. “Who are you and—”
“Yeah, yeah, I know. What’ve I done with Carla?” She shrugged. “I hardly notice guys. But this one? Dayum.”
The guy was tall and slender. Probably not as tall as Jazz, who’d recently passed six-foot-four and was still growing, but close. There, however, all likeness ended. Where Jazz was all elbows, knees, shaggy brown hair full of streaky blond, and golden eyes too big for his face, this dude was—perfect. He wasn’t thin, he was lean, and moved like someone had turned a leopard into a human. His hair was so dark there ought to be stars in it and his eyes—Jazz ran out of words. They were kind of almond-s
haped but probably light in color. It was hard to tell from where Jazz sat, forgetting to eat.
Lysandra’s nephew escorted her to a seat at the governor’s table, then sat beside her. After he pushed her chair back in, he suddenly raised his head like a deer scenting the air and glanced around the crowd. It was kind of like when Jazz smelled danger or someone he knew, but this guy was no werewolf. He might look supernatural, but to Jazz’s nose, he came across as human.
Carla gave Jazz a rough elbow to the ribs. “Close your mouth, or better yet, stuff it with some of that outrageous pile of protein. His name’s Dashiell”—she said it like Dasheel—“as in dash-ing, but she calls him Dash. You’ll get to meet him.”
“I will? Why?” Weirdly, his heart slammed against his ribs.
“Because they’re sitting at our table, and so are you. Come on.” She grabbed his arm.
He pulled it back. Okay, too much. “Uh, I’m not so sure.”
“Why? You’re not shy.”
“She’s just my idol, you know. Sometimes idols are best seen from afar. You don’t notice the cracks.”
She smiled wryly. “You sure it’s not fear of getting a mighty erection in public over Mr. Dashing Pretty Puss?”
He lightly punched her shoulder. Of course, she was close to the truth.
“Dad says Lysandra Mason’s a love.” She hauled on his arm again.
“My food—”
“Bring it.”
He left it on the table and wiped his hands on his jeans.
She laughed.
He let himself be dragged over to where the governor and his wife were sitting with some members of his staff that Jazz mostly recognized from photos. And sure enough, the great lady herself was there, sitting beside—what had Carla called him?—Mr. Dashing Pretty Puss. The closer Jazz got, the prettier he looked. Her too. Strange. Usually humans looked more—human up close. You saw the freckles and blemishes. It made them real and charming. These two just stayed beautiful. Flawless skin, glowing hair, and luminous eyes. Lysandra’s nephew turned to look at Jazz, and Jazz saw that his eyes were some shining shade of pale green. Lysandra’s hair was brown mixed with blond, or vice versa, while the guy’s hair was actually very dark brown with deep shades of red, like fire. Jazz wanted to be invisible so he could sit down and stare at the two of them until his eyes bled.
His hands started to tingle and a quiver vibrated up his spine. Totally cray.
Carla grabbed his arm. “Hey. You okay? You got kind of pale.”
He forced a smile. “Just too much hero worship.”
She marched up to the table like the daughter of a governor—one who knew no fear—and stuck out her hand to Lysandra Mason. “Hi. I’m Carla Mendes, and I’m thrilled to meet you.”
“Delighted, Carla.” The smile Lysandra gave her was warm and genuine.
Carla reached back to Jazz. “This is my best friend, Jazz Vanessen. He’s one of your biggest fans.”
Lysandra turned her gaze to Jazz. Whoa. Where her eyes had appeared hazel at a distance, he now saw that they were gold—a pale yellow-gold like some kind of bizarre cat—but beautiful. Those eyes widened a little, probably at his adoring expression. “Hello, Jazz. How lovely to meet you.”
They weren’t words. They were music that filled his head like sweet smoke. He took her offered hand, almost scared he’d get a shock. Instead, her touch might have been more of a mist that slipped into his veins and made his blood dance like champagne.
Her eyes never left his as she shook his hand, then held it a few seconds longer. She finally blinked. “Carla and Jazz, may I present my nephew, Dashiell Mercury. We call him Dash.”
Jazz was scared to look. He might turn to stone. But when he shifted his glance, Dash was staring at him, his gaze focused.
Carla made a slight snorting sound. “Dash Mercury? Planning on giving FedEx some competition?”
Mrs. Mendes said, “Carla, enough of your smart mouth.”
Dash Mercury dragged his eyes from Jazz to look at Carla. And then he did it. He smiled. The seemingly immoveable, perfect face broke out into dimples and smile lines and crinkles.
Jazz’s mouth dropped open again, and he couldn’t get it closed.
“But I only bring the very best stuff to your door.” Dash laughed. If Jazz had expected a silky, even oily, voice, he was surprised to find Dash sounded pretty much like a regular guy. Friendly, casual, teenage. But Jazz’s wolf senses said that this dude was… something else. Human, yes, but unknown. Unexplored. Maybe dangerous.
Dash’s quip must have sat well with Carla because she grinned and shook his hand. “Glad to meet you, Dash Ex.”
He chuckled, and if it didn’t make Carla vibrate in tune like it did Jazz, she was a stronger person than he was.
Quite suddenly, Dash turned his head and speared Jazz with his gaze. “Are you from around here, Jazz?”
“Uh, yes. My family lives about a half hour away.”
“The Vanessens are among Connecticut’s most prominent families,” Governor Mendes interjected. “Jazz’s grandfather and brother are leading businessmen.”
Lysandra smiled. “Of course. Everyone from Connecticut knows the Vanessens. They’re contributors to our fund. I’m honored.”
Jazz swallowed hard. “And you’re from Connecticut, Ms. Mason?”
“Please call me Lysandra, or Lys if you prefer, and yes. I was born just north of here, although I’ve been away a long time.”
Suddenly Dash stuck out his hand. “I’m pleased to meet you, Jazz.”
Jazz was a little startled since it seemed like the handshaking would have happened earlier in the conversation, but Dash left his hand extended, so Jazz took it.
He tried to hold in his gasp and almost succeeded. Everything he’d thought might happen when he touched Lysandra happened now. A blast of electricity like cool fire shot up to his shoulder and made the hair on his arms stand on end. His fingertips tingled, and other more private parts seemed to get in on the standing-on-end action.
What the hell is going on?
Chapter Four
DASH SHOWED no reaction to the handshake except a slight turning of his lips—his gorgeous, perfect, pink lips. Was there a chance he didn’t feel it? No tingling? No electricity?
Guess it could happen. Jazz rescued his hand and gave himself points for not shaking it to make the prickles go away.
“Randall, get down from there!” The scream made Jazz jump. They all looked toward the shrieking woman, who was staring up at a huge pine tree. Jazz followed her gaze and spied the source of her hysteria—a boy, maybe seven or eight, poised on a high branch, desperately gripping another branch above him. He looked terrified.
A gazillion thoughts ran through his brain. He could easily climb that tree, but he’d have to make it look hard and—
“Carla!” Mrs. Mendes leaped to her feet.
Jazz turned and sucked in a breath. While he’d been dithering around, Carla had run to the tree and was already about seven feet up. Her high-tops gripped the bark of the trunk, and her prissy dress was flying, revealing that she wore a pair of boy’s gym shorts underneath. That was Carla.
“Do something!” Mrs. Mendes pressed her hands together, and the governor started toward the tree, which prompted two security guys to hurry after him. Jazz jumped up and ran after them. “Let me. I’m a good climber.” They all paused, obviously not anxious to take on the huge tree.
He looked up. Carla was almost to the kid, who was crying and shaking like the pine needles around him. “Carla!”
She looked down.
“I’m coming up to help you.”
She held up a finger, wordlessly asking him to wait a minute, so he did. She turned back to the kid and seemed to be talking to him. Smiling, she looked real calm and friendly. Moving slowly, she reached out a hand. The kid grabbed for her, moving too fast. Everyone gasped around him.
Carla held up her palm and kept smiling and talking. The boy moved more slowly toward her u
ntil she got hold of his T-shirt. Obviously, she was telling him not to let go with both hands.
Inch by inch, they moved toward the trunk of the tree. When Carla got there, she looked down, lowered one leg and stepped on the branch below. After she’d tested it, she pulled the boy toward her. But when it came time to let go and lower his leg, he seemed to panic and started crying again. Carla talked and smiled.
“Carla, I’m coming up,” Jazz called.
She yelled, “Okay.”
He glanced over his shoulder and saw Seth and Lindsey frowning. He gave them a slight nod, then swung up and worked hard at making the climb look tougher than it was for him. When he got below Carla, he said, “Switch places with me. I can take more of his weight than you can.”
“Okay. Coming down.” With her usual athletic ease, she clambered down to the branch below Jazz, grinning as she went by.
He grinned back. “You’re cray, girlfriend.”
“Inherited from my BF.”
Jazz climbed up beside the kid. “Hey man, you made quite a climb. Time to get down, okay?”
The boy nodded and stared at Jazz with huge brown eyes.
“Look, I’m pretty strong, so you can hold on to me, okay?”
He nodded faster.
Jazz leaned in then took hold of the boy’s arm. “I’m gonna wrap this around my neck.”
“O-okay.”
Jazz took hold of his hand and pried it from the branch, then gently wrapped the boy’s arm around his neck. The kid clutched frantically, and Jazz grabbed his arm. “Not too hard, okay?”
The boy nodded.
“Now the other arm.”
Frantically, the kid shook his head no.
Carla called, “It’s okay. This is Jazz, and he’s really strong. You know, like a superhero. Just do what he says.”
Jazz could hear the kid’s hummingbird pulse from inches away, but the boy made a frantic grab and wrapped the other arm around Jazz, giving him his whole weight. To Jazz, the kid was so light, he barely noticed the weight, but he made it look as if the climb down was a challenge.
“Randy, wrap your legs around Superhero Jazz, okay?” Carla called.
