by Celia Kyle
Justin chuckled. “How would that go over with On High? You refuse to fuck her and lose those pretty wings of yours, but killing me is good with the big guy?”
Caith’s heart squeezed. She really hated that her business ended up being everyone’s business.
“Caith is important to me, which makes her important to him.” Sam wrapped his hand around Justin’s throat and true worry fluttered in her chest.
“But not important enough to bend the rules.” Justin smiled widely, exposing pink-tinged teeth.
The muscles on Sam’s arm flexed, skin stretched taught and she didn’t hesitate to rush forward and lay her hand on his shoulder, giving him a gentle squeeze. “Sam, it’s fine.” Sam turned his head toward her, red-rimmed eyes meeting hers and a question lurked in their pale depths. “He’s being a dick, but there’s no denying the truth. You can’t kick everyone’s ass because they’re saying something you don’t like.”
He arched a single brow, telling her he could do exactly that.
“Leave him be, Sam,” she whispered and ignored the concern that entered his gaze, the way he looked her over as if to assure himself she wasn’t injured.
He didn’t have the right to worry.
Sam obviously found her well enough because he released her ex and moved back, giving her room to breathe. “I want him gone.”
That made two of them.
“Other than acting like a fuckhole, what did you come here for, Justin?”
The alpha wolf glared at her as he pushed to his feet, lips remaining pressed together. He brushed off his jeans, wiping away the sand and dirt. When he was as clean as he was gonna get, he focused on her. “I came to talk to you about Ellery.”
Caith crossed her arms over her chest. “He’s not up for discussion.”
“He made a mistake.”
“Yes, trying to mount me in the middle of delivering my liquor was a mistake.”
Justin clenched his jaw and the vein in his temple pulsed. “I came to plead his case.”
“You?” she snorted. “You would have had a better chance if you’d sent my father.”
He met her gaze, eyes still amber and holding hers in an iron grip. He wanted to fight for dominance? Now?
“Look, Justin,” she snapped his name, “if I had a dick I’d whip it out and measure it to prove I’m the better wolf, the stronger wolf. But since you wanna have this stupid staring contest, why don’t you talk while you glare. I’m over this meeting. I have better things to do with my life.”
“Like play with your little gel?” he sneered. “I may not have mated you, but I at least fucked you, Caith.”
“This again,” she sighed. “So? We had sex. He won’t have sex with me. The one thing you have in common is that you’re not willing to give up anything for someone else. Can we please table that fucking topic already? I’m two seconds from sending you to Uncle Luc—”
Justin smirked. “Then you’ll—”
“—and I will send your whole fucking pack with you!” The rage bubbled over, sending her blood boiling through her veins. She couldn’t stop herself any longer, couldn’t keep the hate and evil that lived inside her from taking action. Wrapping her fingers around his throat was easy. Lifting him until his feet didn’t touch the ground was easier. Shoving him against the wall was child’s play. “Try me, Justin. Push me a little more. See how fast I can focus on every damned wolf in Orlando and send them to Hell.” She shook him. “Try me.”
Justin’s face reddened, darkening and growing purple as his air ran out.
A cool, sweet breeze bathed her skin, the scent of goodness and light enveloped her and a soft hint of sulfur somehow calmed her raging soul. It was just enough to ease her, a gentle balance that resonated with every part of Caith. Her muscles softened, the tautness easing until she finally dropped Justin to the ground. He crumbled to the asphalt, clutching his throat as he fought for breath. The harsh rasp of his uneven breaths filled her ears, but she brushed the rough sounds aside.
She had only one focus.
Sam.
He murmured in her ear, hands cupping her shoulders as he turned her toward him. Thick arms eased her close and then he enfolded her in his hold. “I have you.”
Right. He had her even if he didn’t want her.
“You know that’s not true,” he murmured against her hair.
No, she didn’t know.
“Then I’ll show you.”
She was speaking aloud. Or was she? She didn’t know. Not when the hellfire continued to pump through her body and burn from inside out.
“It doesn’t matter, Caith. Let’s deal with the wolf and worry about the rest later.” He cradled her head with his hand and urged her to rest her head against his chest. She didn’t fight him, instead choosing to go with the movement and listen to the gentle beat of his heart. When he spoke, the words vibrated through her mind, filling her every thought. “What do you want with Caith?”
Justin tried to speak. “I—”
“You will speak with me. You want something from her. Tell me. When she feels like dealing with you, she will. Or should I let her go and see how fast she turns you to ash? You know she will so why are you still pushing her?”
Because as much as he hated her, he still wanted her.
More words she probably said aloud, but she couldn’t deny the truth. Neither could the alpha, which was why Justin didn’t say a word.
“Say what you need to say, wolf,” Sam growled and Caith’s animal responded with a low, desperate whine.
“I came to see if she’d be lenient with Ellery. He’s my sister’s kid and he’s young.” Justin’s boots scraped on the asphalt as he climbed to his feet. “Give him a break, Caith.”
Caith squeezed her eyes shut and pressed against Sam even harder, trying to crawl inside him so she could avoid the hard decisions in her damned life. But hiding never solved anything.
“Why should I?”
“He’s a good kid,” Justin replied. “He’s just stupid and lacks control.”
“So I should have him in my bar?”
“I’m teaching him how to be a better wolf. Part of that is apologizing and making reparations. I just need to know you’re not going to kill him the second he steps through the doors.”
Caith snorted. “You’re teaching a pup about apologies. Funny.” Sam traced her spine with his fingers, sending a small shudder trailing in his wake. She took a deep breath, pulling in his calming scent. “If he wants to apologize, then he comes here at ten tomorrow morning. The brownies are on strike. He can help clean.”
Justin growled. “The nephew of the Orlando Alph—”
She spun in Sam’s hold, almost thankful he kept her restrained as she fought to claw Justin. “And I’m the Princess of Hell. Titles don’t give you the right to be an elitist, asshole. If he ever wants to come near my bar again, if he wants to retain permission to be in my town, he shows up here at ten tomorrow morning.” She took a deep, calming breath, absorbing more of Sam’s scent. “Now, leave. Don’t take the truck and my liquor order, don’t touch anything in my fucking alley. You turn and you leave or I won’t be responsible for my actions.”
Caith closed her eyes, unable to watch him walk away without fighting to finally and permanently rid herself of Justin’s place in her life. His boots crunched over the gravel and cracked asphalt, his steps sure and strong. The sounds lessened the farther he got until his tread was barely a whisper.
“He’s gone,” Sam murmured. “You okay?”
She released a mirthless laugh. “Not really, no.”
“What do you need?”
She sighed. “Something you can’t give me.”
With a shake of her head, she stepped forward, expecting him to release her. Except… he didn’t.
“Wait a sec.” He encouraged her to turn and despite the fact she didn’t want to make herself even more vulnerable, she did as he desired. “Just because
I can’t give you what you need right this second doesn’t mean I never will. Caith…” His gaze captured hers. “You gotta give a guy a second to catch up, okay? Lemme spend time with you that doesn’t involve blood, gore, or ash.”
She frowned. “So, you’re saying you wanna date me?”
Sam’s smile was blinding. “Yeah, that’s what I’m saying.”
“Caith? Are you okay?” Jezebeth’s hesitant voice broke into their moment of solitude. “Edzard said to let you and Sam deal with Justin. Are you all right?”
Still focused on Sam, she answered her friend. “Yeah, I’m fine. Almost perfect.” Pleasure filled Sam’s gaze as if he was the reason behind her feelings. Just because he was right didn’t mean she was happy about it.
But he was gorgeous, so that took away a lot of her annoyance.
“I’m good. Hey, Jezze?”
“Yeah?” Jezze’s light steps reached her, those small feet padding over the road.
“Put out a sign, Hell’s Chapel is closed tonight.”
“Closed?” Her friend’s surprise was easily heard. Which was understandable since Hell’s Chapel had never been closed since Caith took ownership.
“Yeah, we’re closed. I got a date.”
When Sam’s lips parted to form a blinding smile, she knew she’d made the right choice.
Just because I can’t give you what you need right this second doesn’t mean I never will.
Chapter Eleven
Caith tugged on her skirt for the millionth time, inching it back into place as she fought to cover herself. Flashing skin and flashing skin were two entirely different concepts. Each time she nudged it down, Jezze was there hiking it back up.
“Dammit, Jezebeth.” She slapped at her friend’s hands. Yes, a half-demon werewolf badass was engaging in a slap fight with a witch.
No one could make that shit up.
“You, dammit.” Her best friend zapped her, tiny sparks arching from her fingers to Caith’s. “You like this guy and you know he likes you. If you wanna bring him up to scratch, you gotta give a little to get a lot.”
Caith snorted. “Up to scratch? Have you been reading too many historical romance novels or did you take a trip down memory lane recently?”
They really had too much fun scandalizing the men and women during the regency period.
“Neither,” Jezze snapped.
The word liar jumped to Caith’s tongue, but a look at her friend’s expression told her voicing her accusation would end in a lot of pain. Physical for Caith, emotional for Jezebeth. So, she remained silent as the witch poked, prodded, and nudged her outfit into place.
The black skirt was form fitting, clinging to her hips, tracing the lines of her thighs and ending a few inches above her knees. A good ten inches of her legs were exposed to the air and that’s where her boots picked up, hugging her calf.
Caith extended her leg, admiring the shined, black leather. Man, she loved her Fluevogs. These weren’t her everyday calf-high lace up boots. Those suckers took a blood-soaked licking and kept on kicking customers in the face. No, these had delicate, seductive webbing that snaked up their length, giving hints of her skin and teasing the viewer. She’d seen them online and whipped out her credit card so fast, the plastic smoked. They were sexy demon chic from top to toe. And that curvy heel! It was as if the tween knew exactly what she needed.
A flick to her arm had her attention swinging to Jezze. “Quit drooling over the shoes.”
Then the woman turned back to the pile of makeup nearby and Caith did a quick lip check to make sure she hadn’t been drooling. And… she was dry.
“Liar. I wasn’t drooling.”
Jezze snorted. “You are so easy.” The witch turned and faced her once again, sponge in one hand and powder-caked brush in the other. “Now, hold still.”
Caith leaned away. “What are you doing? You wouldn’t let me do my own makeup.” She eyed the rich, creamy foundation that coated the sponge. “So what’s up with this stuff?”
Jezebeth rolled her eyes. “I’m evening out your skin tone and adding a hint of color.”
“But you said—”
“I said you weren’t rocking goth chic tonight. You can look like a real girl.”
“I am a real girl.” Mostly. Except for those demon bits and that werewolf part and then…
The witch shifted and placed the implements on the counter before turning back and grasping her hands. “Yes, but you also hide behind all that makeup, your clothes, this hair.” Jezebeth brushed some of the bright red strands from her face. “For one night, quit hiding. Let someone else see the real you and if it doesn’t work, you can go back to thick eyeliner, sparkly eye shadow and dark lipstick.”
“I like my hair,” she grumbled, refusing to address the rest of her friend’s words.
It took forever to dye and bleach the strands so that most of it was black and she had bright, shining red streaks peppered throughout. Sometimes it was blue or purple when the mood struck, but she enjoyed the splash of bright color.
“You know that’s not the point.”
Yeah, she did. Still wasn’t talking about it though.
The rapid rap of knuckles on wood echoed through the house and Caith froze in place. Her heart stopped and she fought for calm.
“He’s here.”
“Well, yeah.” Jezze came at her with an eyeliner pencil. A light brown pencil. Blech. “He’s supposed to pick you up at seven and it’s seven.”
“I’m late?” Panic bum-rushed her.
“A tiny bit, but Mom will keep him busy.”
Right. Momma R. Since Caith’s house was still a disaster area—fucking brownies hadn’t shown up—she’d grabbed a few things from her closet, Edzard at her side, and then shot to Jezebeth’s.
The low murmur of voices reached her, Momma R’s holding a hint of annoyance and censure while Sam’s remained smooth and deep. Okay, Momma R was pushing him, but he wasn’t rising to the bait. That was good right?
“Jezze…”
“Hush, almost done.” Caith submitted to a few more swipes and brushes before her best friend finally stepped back. “There, all done. Now, let’s get you into your top and you’ll be good to go.”
Right. She needed more clothes. Jezebeth made her wait to slide her shirt on until makeup was done. Because… “I am not letting you out of here with foundation smeared all over yourself.”
It made her realize that was what she normally did—makeup then clothes. But, she ran a bar and slung drinks. She wasn’t sure the customers cared if she had a swath of white around the neck of her T.
Caith followed Jezze into her bedroom and the woman bypassed the pile of clothes Caith brought along and instead, went to her own closet.
“Uh, Jezze…” She snared the top she’d picked out. “I thought—”
“Yeah, not so much.” Jezebeth spun. “Arms up.”
“But—”
“Trust me. Now do it,” the woman snapped and an arc of electricity smacked Caith’s hand.
“Fine,” she grumbled and did as her best friend demanded.
In two seconds, the fabric drifted down her body. And then in that third second, her bra vanished.
“Jezebeth, what the fuck?” She spun and faced the witch. The smiling witch who dangled Caith’s bra from her fingertip.
“The blouse is meant to be worn without a bra.”
Caith looked down her body, her breasts practically falling from the neckline. “The chesticles need support, hon. Yours are the same size as mine. We are not women who rock out with our titties out.”
“It has a built in bra. Just look at yourself in the mirror. If you’re super uncomfortable, I will let you wear this monstrosity you call a bra and send you on your way in a frumpy, crappy, ugly t-shirt.”
Caith glared at Jezze, but did as asked, padding toward the full-length mirror. The moment she caught her reflection in the glass, she froze. “Holy shi
t, is that me?”
The witch entered the picture. “Yup.”
“Damn, I’m hot.”
“Yup.” Jezze sounded all smug about it, too.
Her friend’s striking red shirt molded to Caith’s body, exposing enough of her breasts to be arousing but not trashy. The skirt clung to her hips, accentuating the dip of her waist and flare of her body before narrowing at her knees. Between the skirt and shoes, she was a vision of hidden seduction.
“Holy shit,” Caith whispered.
Jezze thumped her. “No calling on On High. He’ll ruin your date out of spite.”
Yeah, Jezze wasn’t wrong. Well, she might be a little. She didn’t think the big guy was a spiteful ass, but Caith was the devil’s niece. So, there was no telling.
Her friend stepped around Caith, delicate fingers brushing at the fabric. “Now, are you ready?”
Caith tugged on her skirt again, fidgeting with the fabric as she fought down her nerves. “Yeah.”
“Good.” Jezebeth rested her hands on Caith’s shoulders, capturing her full attention. “Have fun. You only get to experience your first date once.”
She frowned. “I’ve been on—”
“Nope,” she shook her head. “You’ve had hookups and meetups and everything that was definitely not a date.”
“But with Justin…” Her frown deepened.
“No, you met him at the bar and you two fell into something. This is a date, Caith. He’s picking you up, taking you out, and returning you without sex anywhere in between.”
“We could…”
“You know you won’t,” Jezze countered. “This is more than a regular booty call. So take the time and get to learn about each other.” Jezebeth’s expression became even more serious. “What you’re asking of him is a big thing, Caith. You said your wolf has made up its mind, but not everyone has an animal to fall back on. Show him why you’re my best friend, why you protect this town and keep your uncle at bay when he’d love nothing more than to swallow up Orlando in one big gulp. Everyone else loves you,” Jezze released her and fussed with Caith’s top. “Now show him why.”
