by Jane Jamison
The big room. The room the men had saved solely for use after they found their mate.
“I don’t know. I guess I wanted to slow things down a little. Go on dates, get to know them better. You know. Normal stuff.”
Romantic stuff.
Reagan snorted. “That’s ridiculous. You want to get to know them better? You know them as well as I do. You’ve had your entire life to get to know them. What you know is all you’re ever going to know. Plus, it’s a far cry from what most new mates know.”
“I understand what you’re saying. I do. Still, it’s different now that we’re claiming each other as mates.” She couldn’t help but tease her friend. “And now that we’ve had wild, passionate sex.”
“Shit. Stop it.”
“I will if you help me choose an outfit for tonight.”
Reagan grabbed a pair of jeans then one of Brooklyn’s oldest T-shirts. “Here you go.”
“Reagan, come on.”
“You’re only going to the bar, right? If you dress up, everyone will think you’re crazy and stare at you.”
“They’re going to stare at us anyway. Now pick out something nicer.”
Reagan let out a big sigh as though Brooklyn was asking too much of her. “Fine. Here.” This time she chose a nice pair of jeans along with a silk blouse that hugged Brooklyn’s curves. “Wear this. Put a pair of hooker heels with it and you’re all set. It’s dressy enough for date night around here, but not too dressy that you’ll stick out.”
She snatched up a strappy red pair with five-inch heels. “Like these?”
“Are those the tallest ones you have?”
She checked the shoes again. “Five inches isn’t enough?”
“Yeah, I guess so. If that’s the best you have.” Reagan grinned, then jumped up and sauntered into the adjoining bathroom. “How about I help you with your hair?”
“Sure. And while you do, you can tell me where you were all night long.” Reagan hadn’t come home until after Brooklyn had already risen and cooked breakfast for the men.
“I told you before. I was out running. That’s what werewolves do, remember?” Reagan motioned her onto the stool in front of the long mirror. The bathroom was nicely appointed with granite countertops and a large walk-in shower that would have room for two people, but not four. But that wasn’t a problem. Once they moved into the big room together—okay, maybe before then—they’d share the huge shower with two rainfall showerheads. That shower was the perfect size for the four of them.
“What aren’t you telling me?” Brooklyn slid onto the stool and talked to her friend’s reflection in the mirror. “You’ve never stayed out all night to go running. Why now?”
Reagan avoided meeting her gaze, a sure sign she was hiding something. “I just felt like it. What’s the big deal? Morgan stays out all night running lots of times. Hell, if you decide to go shifter, you’ll probably stay out all night along with him.” She finally lifted her gaze. “Or with me.”
Brooklyn was certain she was dodging the question. “Did you see that guy from the mainland again? What was his name?”
Was that a blush filling Reagan’s cheeks?
“His name is Craig Wentworth, and that’s all the information you’re getting out of me.”
She sat up straighter and tried to turn around to face Reagan, but that only ended up in getting her hair pulled. “Why won’t you tell me anything more? What’s wrong with him?”
“Hold still.”
“Ouch.” Had Reagan pulled her hair on purpose?
“I told you to be still.” Reagan whipped a strand of Brooklyn’s hair around the curling iron. “And no, there’s nothing wrong with him. He’s great, but it’s no big deal, so why tell everyone? For once in my life, I’d like to do something without the whole damn town knowing about it.”
She understood. Having everyone know about her love life wasn’t easy, either. Several townspeople had started commenting on her good fortune of “landing those men of yours.” Either that or commenting on how they’d known all along that the four of them would end up together.
“Okay, I can see how you’d want a little privacy. But tell me how you manage to keep it private, especially when you were together at the bar.”
“Well…we were kind of together.”
“What do you mean? You said you were dancing. The dance floor’s in the middle of the room. Everyone there would’ve seen you.”
“I might have exaggerated about how long we were actually at the bar.”
“You lied to me?” Granted, it wouldn’t have been the first time, but the others had been silly white lies.
“Brooklyn, don’t get your panties in a bunch.” Reagan’s eyes flashed amber, her werewolf rising to the surface. The tips of fangs peeked out from between her lips.
“Damn it, Reagan, don’t you go shifting on me.” Her friend had shifted in front of her many times before, but Brooklyn had never gotten used to it. Although she’d never known anyone who’d been hurt by a werewolf friend, she’d heard stories about other shifters losing control, shifting, and then attacking someone who had angered them.
The fangs disappeared, and her friend’s eyes returned to their soft brown color. “Sorry. And I’m sorry about lying to you. I just want some privacy.”
“So are you seeing him again?”
“I don’t know. Maybe.”
Suddenly, Brooklyn understood all too clearly. She’d dated her fair share of men while studying abroad but had never been able to commit to any of them. Not when her heart belonged to the men back home.
“Because he’s not Damian?”
Reagan frowned then swiveled Brooklyn around to face her. “Don’t you ever say anything to Damian, you hear?”
“Of course not. I never have, and I never will.” Yet she had to know. “But are you okay with me being with him?” What would she do if Reagan said no? Could she give up her best friend to be with one of her mates? Giving up either Reagan or Damian would break her heart.
“Listen to me, Brooklyn Hightower. I’m going to say this one last time. I’m over Damian. Seriously, I am. It was a teenage crush and nothing more.”
“You mean like the way I felt about the guys?”
“No. It’s different because yours was never really a crush. You were actually in love. You’re lucky you found three men to love and to love you back.”
“Are you sure? Maybe that’s what’s holding you back with Craig.” She wanted her friend to be happy. She tried to ease the tension. “Maybe you should get lucky with him?”
“Oh, good one.” Reagan rolled her eyes then grew serious. “And I promise you. Damian isn’t holding me back from doing anything. I haven’t had a crush on Damian in a long while. But you know how it is. Once you have a crush, it’s hard to let those feelings go even when you know they’re not the real deal. And I admit it. At times I get nostalgic and wonder what might have been. But that’s just daydreaming. Trust me. I’ve thought about this long and hard the past few days. I love Damian, but not the way you do. Besides, anyone with any sense can see his head over heels in love with you. I wouldn’t have a chance with him even if I wanted one. Which I don’t.”
Brooklyn studied her friend, even narrowing her eyes as though that would help her dive down into Reagan’s heart and see the truth. In the end, however, she believed her. “Good. I’d hate to let anything, even Damian, come between us.”
“It’ll never happen, girl. Now shut up and let me fix your hair.” Reagan spun her around to face the mirror again.
Relieved, Brooklyn watched as her best friend styled her hair. All the while, Reagan went on and on about the latest gossip.
For someone who doesn’t want the town trading tales about her, she sure is spreading some of her own.
“There. All done. So? What do you think?”
Brooklyn had always envied Reagan’s long, dark hair, but looking at herself in the mirror now she had to admit she looked damn good. Reagan hadn’t done anyt
hing elaborate with the hairstyle except to add curls around Brooklyn’s face, framing it perfectly.
“Want to try your hand at my makeup now?”
“So, do you like your hair?”
“I love it. Maybe you should open your own salon instead of doing the books for the winery and ranch?”
“And have witchy Wicky Westmore sticking me with a curse for taking business away from her? Not a chance.”
* * * *
Brooklyn strolled along the street, smiling at locals and tourists alike. She’d let Morgan drop her down by the marina, wanting to take her time getting to the diner. The weather was pleasant, and the birds were chirping. Nothing in the world could bother her.
“Brooklyn Hightower.”
“Yes?”
She pivoted toward the voice behind her and immediately regretted that she hadn’t ignored the call and run the other way. “You’re Thornton Denton, aren’t you?” She had the feeling she’d met him a long time ago but wasn’t certain. If what people said around town was true—that if a person stood on a corner in town, sooner or later they’d run into everyone—then she had.
“You don’t remember me, do you?”
The handsome man with the thick black hair and neatly trimmed beard gave her a winning smile. Odd light-green-silver eyes were mesmerizing, yet there was something about him that made her skin crawl. For some strange reason, she didn’t want to admit she knew him, even from long ago. “No, I’m sorry.”
He waved her lack of memory away. “We have, but it was a while ago, before you left to study abroad. I’ve change a bit since then, like we all do.” His gaze slid over her. “You’ve changed, too. You’re quite the beauty now.”
“Thank you,” she mumbled, not liking to thank him for anything, including a compliment. “Did you want something?”
“Just a moment to talk.” The silver in his eyes grew more prominent, like any wizard’s eyes would when growing serious. His eyes, however, were as far from Samuel’s as dark was to light. While Samuel’s silver gaze, even in anger, still retained a level of humor, of honesty, Thornton’s was as cold as a long winter’s night.
“About?” She shifted back and forth on her feet, the urge to flee almost unable to resist.
“About your mates.”
She’d heard enough from other townspeople, but those comments had been positive. Somehow she didn’t think his comment would be. “I’m not sure it’s any of your business.”
“Someone should warn you.” He glanced around and, seeing no one close enough to hear their conversation, continued. “Unlike the rest of these people, I know not to trust them. Especially Samuel. Oh, sure, he seems like a great guy at first, but he’s not.”
Anger burst inside her, and she gritted her teeth, biting back harsh words. “You and I don’t know each other very well. Not at all, in fact. Otherwise, you’d know that I’ve been friends with my future mates and Reagan Legacy most of my life. I’m sure I know them a lot better than you do.”
“Like I said before, people change. Samuel has changed since you were away.”
She couldn’t put up with it any longer. Needing to get away, she attempted to cut him off. “Again, this isn’t any of your business.” His cold voice stopped her as she started to turn around and leave.
“They’re unnatural. Not human like you.”
She laughed. How could she hold it back? “I’m a resident here. I know everything. Plus, there’s nothing unnatural about who and what they are.”
“Samuel cheated me, and his friends helped. Morgan Legacy even involved his pack.”
You cheated me.
The words were too close for her not to think of the accusations the crazy tourist had flung at her. “I don’t know what went on between you, but I don’t care. Keep whatever else you have to say to yourself. And stay away from me.”
He’d opened his mouth to respond when she whirled around and stormed off. Crossing to the other side of the street, she turned a corner but kept up her quick pace. She was still furious when another voice brought her to an abrupt stop.
“Girl, stop and listen to me.”
Shit. Why can’t people just leave me the fuck alone?
She spun around, ready to tell whomever it was to back off. “Look, I’m tired of everyone telling me their opinions, so if you don’t mind, I don’t want to listen.”
“You’d better be careful around Thornton Denton. He’s a Dark Side wizard and not one to get involved with.”
At least she remembered the woman. “Ms. Holgon, I appreciate that you want to help me, but I already know he’s a dickhead. Sorry for the language.”
Mare Holgon was a witch of good standing in the Circle Coven, the biggest coven in West End. She was respected and liked by everyone, including most of the wizards. “Girl, don’t worry about words. I know hundreds of curse words in more languages than you know exist. But listen to my warning.”
“Why are you telling me all this? Why do you care?” And why had Thornton come to her now?
“Because something’s wrong. I can sense it in the air.” She held out her palm toward Brooklyn. “Especially around you. And I happen to like Samuel. He’s one of the good ones.”
Brooklyn shivered. “But you can’t tell what it is you’re sensing around me?”
“No. All I can do is warn you.” Her crystal-green gaze blinked. “You haven’t heard about the hard feelings between Samuel and Thornton, have you?”
Not a damn word. “No, but I haven’t been back long.”
“I don’t wonder you haven’t. It happened shortly after you left town.”
“What was it?” It wasn’t unusual for wizards to be on the outs with each other. As a rule, wizards stuck to themselves and didn’t like to join into groups like witches did in covens. Their lack of cooperation, however, sometimes caused misunderstandings and hard feelings.
“Thornton believes your Samuel cheated him out of money on an investment deal. Something about spelling a human to falsify records. I don’t know the specifics, and I don’t want to know. But those two have had hard feelings ever since.”
“I don’t suppose you can give me protection?” The question had come out without thinking in a half-joking kind of way. If she needed protection, the men would give it to her through Samuel with his magic, Damian with his powers, and Morgan with his animal fierceness.
“No, girl. This is as involved as I choose to be. Just stay close to your men.”
Her anger of before eased, tension wafting off her at the thought of the men she loved. “Now that I can do.”
“I’m sure you can.” Mare placed a light touch to Brooklyn’s shoulder. “Be safe, girl.”
“I will.” Brooklyn studied the witch as she left, hurrying back down the street in her long, flowing dress so reminiscent of the seventies hippy style of dress.
“Two warnings in one day.” She headed for the diner and her shift. “That’s got to be a record.”
Doing her best to dismiss both encounters didn’t work. Instead, a feeling of impending doom swamped her.
* * * *
Morgan liked leading the pack. At least while running. He wasn’t a big fan of the actual business of leading them, making decisions, and giving out orders.
His tongue lolled out of his mouth, his ears pricked forward to pick up any interesting sounds. After spending the day working on the ranch, branding cattle and fixing fence posts, he’d been more than ready for the run. The only thing that could’ve been better was seeing Brooklyn, but she’d passed on sharing dinner, claiming she was too tired after pulling a longer than usual shift at the diner.
He, Samuel, and Damian had complained, of course. Three days earlier, they’d lain with her on top of the cliff and had declared their love and claimed her as their mate. An official ceremony would come, but as far as they were concerned, Brooklyn was theirs, heart and soul.
She was perfect in every way with her fair skin, her sweet oval face, and copper hair curling to
ward her sexy lips. Her spirit was beautiful, too, with her kind heart and giving nature. Plus, she was patient. She’d have to be, living with them.
How had he not recognized her as their mate earlier? If he had, then he would’ve kept her on the island instead of letting her go away to study. Why had she wanted to study parapsychology when she’d grown up on an island full of shifters, vampires, and more?
Since they’d made love on the cliff, she’d stayed at the ranch, albeit in another bedroom, and they’d taken things slower. Not that he understood why. The sex hadn’t slowed down, so why bother with all the dates? Still, he and the other men were determined to make their mate happy. They’d shown her around the winery and the ranch as though showing her for the first time. They’d gone horseback riding and had even had a tumble in the hayloft of the barn. His sister was finding it harder and harder to stick around, too worried that she’d walk in on them. Hell, they’d even visited a damn alpaca farm, the stench of the odd animals staying in his nostrils for several hours.
Once she became their mate—although he already considered her their mate—he’d put a stop to her working. Sexist? Maybe? Chauvinistic? No doubt. But he didn’t care. Brooklyn would be a natural mom and wouldn’t give a damn about the diner once the children started coming. She’d be too busy taking care of the children to want to do anything other than run the household and raise their kids.
What if one of the kids is a human? Or a wizard?
Granted, he’d love the child no matter what, but secretly he hoped the child would be at least part werewolf. There was no chance of a child becoming a vampire because vampires were made, not born. And the chances of a baby being born a wizard were slim. For unknown reasons, very few wizards were able to have children. Although he felt guilty as hell for thinking it, he had to admit he liked the odds.
He growled at a newer pack member who tried to take the lead. What would he do if he couldn’t have children? The thought was horrifying for a werewolf, especially one in charge of a pack. Having no heirs would almost certainly cause him to lose his alpha ranking. Only werewolves born into the pack could become alpha, but even they risked their natural ranking if they failed in such a simple task as having children.
