by C. R. Jane
I didn’t waste my breath on her and returned my attention to the receptionist. She had blonde hair pulled off her face and in a ponytail…and she wasn’t glaring at me. So that was a plus. She sat back in her chair behind the counter, seeing that I wasn’t about to die.
“Did you want to make an appointment?” she asked.
“No. There’s a wolf near the woods, and it’s injured. Something attacked it, and the poor thing is bleeding very badly. Could the doctor maybe—”
“Where?” the busy-body woman asked, placing her hat on the chair next to her and getting to her feet. “What sort of wolf?” She stepped closer, practically standing in my face.
I backed up. “It was a wolf, a gray one.”
“Greta,” the receptionist warned.
The older woman’s nostrils flared with her exasperated exhale to keep quiet. Was this woman some kind of animal lover? She seemed very invested.
“I’m sorry but we’re not an animal hospital,” the receptionist answered.
I turned to her. “Is there a vet in town?” I quipped.
She shook her head, and I wanted to laugh out loud. “Surely, the doctor can help out the poor animal then? It’s bleeding on the side of the road after pulling itself from in the woods for help.”
“You were in the woods alone?” she asked, and I sighed. What was wrong with everyone in this town?
“What sort of bite?” Greta asked.
These were not the normal kind of questions people asked in such a situation.
The door alongside the reception counter suddenly opened, and a young man stepped out wearing a hoodie, his gaze low, shoulders curled forward as if he’d just received the worst news in the world.
When he looked up, I stiffened.
Daniel. I remembered him from when he rushed into the inn all panicked and talking about blood.
Greta abruptly scoffed and glared at Daniel like she might pierce him alive with her stare.
“What now?” he asked, giving her an exasperated scowl like he might break into an argument.
She was fuming, tucking her handbag under her arm as she grabbed her hat. “What did you do now?” She swiftly marched right out the door, with Daniel right on her heels, saying, “What are you talking about?”
“That was strange,” I whispered under my breath.
“Oh, don’t pay Greta any attention. She’s always in everyone’s business but she means well. Did you know she took Daniel into her home when he lost his parents years ago?”
Part of me felt a hint of sympathy for Daniel, when I caught the doctor emerging from his office. He was a super old man, sun spots on his skin, thinning white hair, and walking rather quickly for someone who looked like they neared a hundred years old.
“Excuse me,” I asked with a soft voice. “I found an injured wolf just in the woods. Would you be able to help him or know who could help?”
The man’s head lifted, his gaze meeting mine, swimming with something so sympathetic and caring in his expression, I automatically liked him.
He exchanged looks with the receptionist who said, “You have an appointment in ten minutes.”
He clapped his hands. “Then that’s plenty of time.”
Despite her heavy sigh, the doctor turned my way. “Let me know exactly where you found him, and I’ll take it from here.”
“Are you sure we should be doing this?” the reception asked, interrupting us.
“Just grab my bag and car keys.” Then he looked back at me, waiting for my response.
In one breath, I told him everything about the injured wolf, and then in a flash, they were on their way, locking the door behind us as we all left.
“Now that was super strange,” I mumbled to myself as they both hopped into a car and sped off in the direction I’d just come from without another word. I made a note to swing past the office tomorrow and check on the wolf’s status.
I turned and made my way up the main road, deciding that something odd was definitely happening in this town…something everyone was privy too except me. And it had everything to do with the surrounding woods and the wolves. I felt it in my bones.
The floorboards thumped beneath my feet from the music downstairs in the inn. I combed my wet hair off my face, having every intention of heading downstairs. The diner had burst with customers earlier today, and I’d been run off my feet, so exhausted, I could barely stand. But instead of crashing into bed after my shift, I wanted a drink to wind down. Plus, the sound of the commotion downstairs had me curious to find out what was going on.
I’d seen too many strange things in my short time in town to put it down to some pure coincidence. Thinking through things today, I’d decided it made sense that with very little tourists in town, this place had become isolated. It was why they were protected from outsiders. If they’d been alone this long, anyone might come across as a threat to their simple way of life. I just had to show them I wasn’t a threat.
I’d bought a pair of black heels for the job interviews I’d hoped for when I was fleeing Alistair’s pack. I stepped into them now, gazing at myself critically in the mirror one last time. The A-line dress with spaghetti straps fell mid-thigh, cinched in at my waist and laced up across my chest. What I loved about this dress when I bought it had been the color. A faded, summery yellow that reminded me of the outdoors. I’d seen it at the same store as where I’d bought the shoes, and I just had to have it. Alistair never would have allowed me to wear something so bright…and revealing. It represented hope when I saw it hanging there. I kind of couldn’t believe I was actually getting to wear it.
I reached for the necklace my mother had given me, the only gift I had left from her. I hadn’t been able to convince myself to throw it away, even after all these years. A sterling silver chain with a luna pendant. The sickle of the moon more specifically, a symbolism of life and death, my mother had told me. Something to empower me, she’d said at the time. I laughed at the thought. I was only wearing it now because the dress needed something to fill the open space over my chest.
I obviously was well versed in lying to myself.
“You can do this,” I whispered as I put the necklace on, then headed downstairs, preparing myself for all the stares. But this was all part of my plan, the more people saw me, the more they would get used to me and stop making me feel like a freak all the time. This would help them too, because they really needed to learn staring was rude.
But once I reached the base of the stairs, I froze on the bottom step because I wasn’t expecting this.
The place was packed. People on every chair, others standing by the wall, chatting, and some near the eating section that had been cleared and now sported a pool table. How in the world did Jim and Carrie bring that thing in there?
And where were all of these people the night I arrived?
A rock song played in the background to all the voices, and I licked my dry lips, forcing myself to not head back upstairs from how out of place I felt. The strong smell of aftershave and perspiration made for an interesting smell that almost overpowered my senses. Almost…
It was mostly guys, but the few females who mingled with them wore simple jeans, low-cut tops, and I felt extremely overdressed in that moment, sticking out like a sore thumb.
Breathing hard, I started to sense their eyes on me, and slowly, more seemed to notice my presence. I cursed myself internally for wearing a yellow dress. What had I been thinking?
“You look scared.” A short, built man with a long beard strolled my way from a table with three others, all staring my way. My heart beat so fast, and I was certain my cheeks burned up. He gave me a sickly-sweet grin.
I retreated up one step, unsure I could do this, reminded too much of the men in Alistair’s pack who thought it was okay to hit on me in front of everyone else just to rouse a reaction out of me. To humiliate me, to get Alistair to treat me like garbage for their amusement.
“Back off, Jarrod,” Jim said, suddenly appearing f
rom around the corner of the staircase, carrying a tray of beers. He looked my way, offering me a lighthearted smile. “Head to the bar, darlin’. Carrie will get your first drink on the house.”
I used that moment to slip away from the bearded man who had his friends heckling him. They looked like they could easily belong in a biker gang. In fact, half the men had that similar look to them. Rugged, tough, and wearing lots of denim. Most of them were hanging around the pool table, and only when the crowd parted, did my eyes land on Daxon.
My breath caught in my throat. He raked his hand through his blond hair, standing across the pool table, watching the game. In his other hand, he held a bottle of beer, dressed in jeans and a grey henley top so tight, his muscles couldn’t be missed.
He suddenly burst into a strong, loud laugh that sent a delicious buzz through my body.
A sense of anticipation and excitement flooded me, my nerves sparking at the sound. It made me feel alive. It was nothing I’d ever experienced before, but everything I wished I would have had with Alistair. Instead, my fated mate had done everything he could to kill whatever spark he’d seen in me.
My life had been ugly and violent, and it had been all I knew for too long. I would always bear the scars.
With that thought, I looked away from the golden god and turned to the bar with an empty seat by the counter as if it was cleared just for me. Jumping up onto it, I swiveled toward Carrie, who slid a drink in front of me before I even ordered one.
“The house specialty,” she said. “Stinging Breeze. Bitters, bourbon, tonic, and a squeeze of orange juice with a dash of sugar.”
“Sounds good.” I accepted the drink and took a sniff, the orange coming through strongly, so I took a sip. Sweetness coated my tongue, followed by a hit of fire rushing down my throat. I coughed, close to spurting out what I’d drank.
Carrie laughed. “The more you drink, the less it burns.”
I wasn’t too sure about that theory, but I said my thanks and spun on the chair to face the room while holding my drink, hating the sensation of having my back unprotected. My attention again swept over to Daxon, holding the cue stick, leaning over the table to take his shot. It was too bad he wasn’t facing the other direction, giving me a perfect view of that gorgeous ass. That was the kind of relaxing night I wanted.
“You’re so obvious,” a female voice purred in my ear.
I snapped around, my drink sloshing over the rim and running down my fingers and onto my thigh.
“Oh, hell.” I quickly put the glass on the bar and grabbed a napkin to wipe the mess, then looked up to come face to face with a dark-haired beauty. The same one who’d been with Wilder on the sidewalk days ago. And now she was in my personal space, studying me with an expression I couldn’t work out.
“Sorry, what?” I asked.
“Don’t worry, every girl in town dreams about claiming that piece of walking sex. And damn, he fucks like a demon, trust me.” She winked at me like we were friends, smirking and biting her lip, before glancing over at Daxon. “Oh and here’s a tip. Try not to look so desperate when you stare at him. It’s really pitiful to watch.” Her fake friendliness melted away into a mocking sorrowful expression.
All right…so the girl was a bitch. Good to know.
“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” I replied, refusing to engage with her.
“Listen here, you little piece of shit,” she hissed suddenly as she leaned closer, her hand gripping my arm, fingernails digging into flesh.
Fire erupted within me, and I pushed her arm off me, shocked at what was happening. “Excuse me?”
She didn’t back away, her angry features warping her beauty and transforming her into an ugly hag.
Her gaze dipped down my body then, and she paused on my chest, physically flinching from me suddenly like I might have leprosy. “You’re wasting your time by putting your luck in that,” she growled before releasing me.
I blinked at her, utterly confused as I glanced down at my moon necklace and then back up. But she was already sauntering across the room, her hips swaying. Her cut-off denim Daisy Dukes barely covered her ass, and every guy in the place made sure to stare.
Well, okay. I was putting her firmly in the crazy column.
I couldn’t escape her words about Daxon though. They kept circling through my mind like vultures.
He fucks like a demon.
Here I thought she was with Wilder, but maybe I’d been mistaken.
I hated her in that moment, more than I did when I’d seen her with Wilder. She walked over to Daxon and draped an arm around his shoulders…like she owned him. A spear of sharp jealousy drove right through my middle, licking and burning at my insides. I took a long drink, wanting to wash away what I was feeling…or at least numb it, but the sweet taste had soured.
The guy on the stool next to me, glanced over. “You could always challenge her for him. We haven’t had a good cat fight in here in too long.” He leered at me, smiling and revealing one of his missing front teeth.
Eeww.
“I have no idea what you’re saying.”
He shrugged and went back to nursing his drink.
When I looked back up, the voices seemed to fall silent, only the music filling the void. I glanced around quickly to work out what was happening.
My gaze fell on Wilder, and my stomach tightened. Where did he come from? He stood feet away from Daxon dressed in dark pants that encased his powerful legs and a blue button-up shirt that was taut from the way his biceps were flexing as he clenched his fists angrily.
Both him and Daxon were arguing, the anger twisting their expressions. All the while, the dark-haired woman stood between them, a hand on each of their chests, except she didn’t look one bit upset. She smiled like she was the happiest person in the world, like she might be getting off on having the guys fight over her. Were they fighting over her? What exactly was going on between those three anyway?
All of a sudden, she ducked, and Wilder threw the first punch, clipping Daxon just below his left eye, sending him sprawling backward onto the pool table. The viciousness of the attack took me off guard. I exhaled rapidly, feeling my chest curl in on itself.
My heart soared at how quickly this escalated from argument into a fight.
Daxon snapped back up quicker than I’d ever seen anyone move, and he threw himself at Wilder, both of them stumbling until Wilder hit the wall.
Then the room exploded with cheers and hoots, the crowd shoving to get closer to the battle.
My pulse pounded quickly as everything escalated into chaos.
Jim and Carrie were trying to push themselves into the crowd, to clearly break up the fight, while no one else did a thing. Except now I couldn’t see a single thing.
Quickly, I rushed over to a nearby chair and climbed on it for a better view over the many heads.
The black-haired woman, who had definitely started this, sat on the pool table cross-legged, clapping and laughing like a mad person. Wilder and Daxon were now on the ground, rolling around. All I could see were flying punches, really making it close to impossible to see who was winning.
These two were all male, all alpha. There was no other way to describe them, and I watched them in a strange amusement. A tingle started deep in my stomach, diving deeper at seeing them battle. I shouldn’t feel anything but shock at their behavior, and here I buzzed from a rising desire through me. Geez, was I any better than the crazy chick?
There was something so intoxicating, so alluring, about watching them fight.
The music never stopped, and it almost seemed like they fought to the rhythm. Both were back on their feet, Wilder with a busted lip, Daxon bleeding from the cut under his eye.
Jim jutted between them in a wild attempt that was honestly risking his life, his arms flailing about, but the pair didn’t even notice. They just lunged at each other once again, ending up on the pool table.
The dark-haired girl squealed as she rapidly scurried out of t
heir way, which made me laugh quietly to myself.
Punch after punch. These two were extraordinary, taking so many hits but neither falling over. Each of them was muscular, towering over almost everyone in the room. It was obvious they were dangerous as hell. To see them collide like that was like a train wreck where I just couldn’t look away. How long could they go on like this, anyway?
The girl who’d instigated this caught my attention from across the room. She was watching me, not the action, and something in her expression changed. It became almost feral like the madness in the air tonight was contagious. A darkness swept over my eyes, sending a shiver down my spine.
In that exact moment, Jim whistled so loud, it drew even Wilder and Daxon’s attention to him.
“That’s fucking enough,” he bellowed. “You want to rip yourselves apart, go outside for it. Take your asses out of here now! Everyone, out.”
At first, no one moved, and I had no idea if Jim held such a command over the rowdy crowd. Everyone’s eyes were on the two powerhouses in the middle of the bar. Their shirts torn and stained with blood, their strong chests rising and falling rapidly with each breath. They exchanged glares, and it was clear these two held deep hatred for one another. Daxon turned away first, then Wilder did the same, both going in opposite directions. The masses then dispersed, all coming my way.
Panicked, I rapidly hopped down from the chair I’d been standing on. In seconds, I was engulfed by bodies pushing past, all shoving to get out the door.
Elbows in my side, the huge men barely noticed I stood in their way as they nudged me left and right. Escape seemed impossible when everywhere I turned, more and more bodies made a rush for the exit.
I maneuvered my way past a few people, when the heavy stench of perspiration hit me so hard, it made me faint. The smell was anything but pleasant, and it swallowed me, stirring my panic. An alarm flared through me that I couldn’t get away from them, couldn’t breathe.
