by Ellis Leigh
“Done,” I said as I slipped into the back seat once more, pasting on a smile to hide my foul mood. “Boozy cupcakes acquired.”
“What were the ones you made at the hotel?” Fiona asked, knocking on the window to tell the driver we were ready to roll again. “I thought those were the boozy ones?”
If I could have, I would have blushed. Not because I’d been stress baking—I’d spent a large chunk of my day hiding out in the basement kitchen of the hotel baking. And thinking. And pretty much hiding from my life. No, that wasn’t what made the heat rise in my cheeks. It was what I’d been baking. And why.
“No booze—just spice. Cinnamon, mostly. They were cinnamon and ginger cake with an apple puree filling and caramel buttercream frosting.”
Fiona stared at me for a solid ten seconds before cursing softly. “Those sound amazing.”
Yeah. They did. And I’d likely never be able to eat or drink that spicy flavor again without a yawning pit of despair opening up in my gut. Thanks, Kingston.
I shrugged, not wanting to admit my ridiculous obsession with cinnamon that had finally driven away the distractions and given me something new and exciting to add to the bakery menu. Or my obsession with the man behind the inspiration. “Cupcakes are good, but liquor is better. Let’s hit the club.”
“Perfect,” Cleo, one of Fiona’s friends, practically purred. The girl had that sexy, big cat shifter thing down pat. Hell, she might have been a tiger shifter for all I knew. “I can’t wait to hit the dance floor.”
Fiona and the rest of the girls—all six of them—agreed and began talking over what songs they wanted to hear and how much they wanted to shake their asses. Me? I kept my sad sack self in the corner. If I hadn’t promised Fiona I’d go with her to her party—and if I hadn’t used her as an excuse to hide from dealing with my feelings for Kingston all day—I’d simply head home. I didn’t want to dance or drink, I wanted to wallow.
I’d spent my day with these girls—getting my hair and makeup done and drinking mimosas until my tongue hurt from all the acid. The only breaks I’d taken from their company were those moments in the basement kitchen baking feverishly to try to capture the perfect flavor profile—to distract myself from all the thoughts and feelings running through me. All the things about Kingston that wouldn’t let me go. His sweetness, his dirty mouth, the demanding way he took me, how he didn’t make a move without my consent. The way he tasted like a cinnamon candy, burning his essence into my body. All of it—I loved all of it.
But love wasn’t my thing. It wasn’t what I wanted or needed. Especially not with a dragon shifter. They didn’t stay true to anyone. That’s what I’d always heard. The one shifter breed that didn’t take a true mate, or didn’t stick to just one. None of that should have bothered me. I, myself, liked to make my relationships last just one night. Maybe two if the chemistry was right. I was more of a hit it and quit it girl than the long-haul sort.
But Kingston had me thinking long haul, which couldn’t happen because he wasn’t down for that.
And wasn’t that something like karma coming to bite me in the ass? The player being played. Well done, fates. Well done.
Feeling ridiculously lost and off-balance, I pulled out my phone and texted the one person I figured would understand.
Me: How’s the wolf?
Coco: Sweaty
Me: Do I want to know?
Coco: Yes, but I’m not going to tell you.
Coco: What’s wrong?
Me: Why does anything have to be wrong?
Coco: Because you’re texting me. And you forgot to deliver the groom’s cake. Thanks for that, by the way.
Me: Yeah, sorry. I had man issues.
Coco: Man or dragon?
How the hell did she know already?
Coco: Misty ratted you out, in case you were wondering how I knew.
And now she was psychic. Wonderful.
Me: You two conspiring against me?
Coco: Of course. You okay?
Me: Yeah. Just heading out for the night and feeling a bit wobbly.
Coco: Call your dragon.
Me: Not happening.
Coco: Misty thinks he’s your mate.
Me: Dragons don’t do the whole fated mates thing.
Coco: That could be a rumor. Like how we all thought bear shifters hibernated all winter.
Me: Uncle Jericho sleeps for like twenty hours a day in the winter.
Coco: True, but that’s not like hibernation. That’s just…seasonal affective disorder or something.
Me: Not sure there’s a real difference there.
Coco: Fine. Bad example. Why not find out what your dragon wants before writing him off? Ask him.
As if.
Me: I think I’d rather masturbate my way to happiness, thank you very much.
Coco: Graphic.
Me: Yup.
Coco: Fine. Do nothing. See if I care.
She cared. Otherwise, she wouldn’t have said that.
Me: Love you, sis. I really am sorry I forgot to deliver the cake. Everything go okay?
Coco: In the end, yes. Dropping off the cake? Not so much.
Me: Sorry. I got swept away…literally.
Coco: Sounds fun. I’m going to need you to tell me all about it.
Me: Dinner this week? All three of us. It’s been a while.
Coco: I’m in. I’ll set it up with Maddie.
Ever the responsible sister.
Me: Sounds good. Pulling up at the club—gotta go.
Coco: Be safe
Me: Mind your wolf.
Coco: I would if you’d quit interrupting us.
Me: Brat.
Coco: Nag.
Coco: Now quit texting me. I’m busy being naked.
Me: Thanks for the visual. I’ll be dancing my frustrations away. Clothed.
Coco: Where’s the fun in that?
“You ready?”
I looked up from my phone, meeting Fiona’s worried gaze. That wouldn’t do. The bride shouldn’t be worried about me or my nonexistent love life. It was time to paste a smile on my face, pull up my big-girl panties, and shake my ass across the dance floor. Even if my heart did feel as if it had been shredded into ribbons. That’s what you called taking one for the team. The team being a very sexy, very successful wolf shifter with a new mate who totally didn’t deserve her.
“Absolutely,” I said, using every ounce of giddy I could drum up from within me to keep my smile bright and my energy excited. “Let’s go celebrate your last night being a single woman.”
“That ship has sailed, my friend. The second the fates put us together, I was a goner.”
And…smile, gone. Thankfully, Fiona didn’t notice. She headed inside with Cleo and a few others, leaving me and a couple of girls to deal with the cupcakes. I didn’t even try to buoy my mood. Fates and mates and shifters…oh my. The paranormal creatures around me had flipped my world upside down, and I didn’t like it.
“Come on, ladies,” I said, refusing to let my crappy mood ruin anyone’s good time. “Let’s get these trays inside. The first round of margarita cupcakes is on me.”
9
Ginger
Want to know what the worst idea in the history of the world was?
Me thinking hanging out with a bunch of drunken shifters was a good plan.
Past-Ginger was an idiot of epic proportions.
“Drink, Ginger. You need to loosen up.”
If Fiona hadn’t been the one getting married in the morning, I might have smacked her. Instead, I pasted on a goofy grin. “I’ve had like six cupcakes. I’m totally buzzing already.”
I wasn't, but no way was I telling her that. Sometimes it was easier—and more polite—to lie. I mean, no one wanted to hear that the party in their honor made a guest want to poke her eyes out with a dirty spork. I was blunt…I wasn’t a bitch. Most days.
Fiona left me to hit the dance floor with the other girls. A good thing because my mood was likely to spread like
a disease through this place. Best to leave me to my cranky, lonely self. Unfortunately, a single girl sitting in a club all alone was the target for more attention than I would have liked and opened me up to attacks of the less feminine and much less wanted variety.
“Feeling better tonight?” A guy sat next to me, one who looked a little familiar. One with an arrogant sort of smirk that pinged at something in my head. Something I couldn’t quite grab hold of.
“Do I know you?”
“I can’t believe you don’t remember.” He laughed like some douchebag on TV—head back, hand on his chest, totally exaggerated and way too loud. Not at all creepy.
Totally creepy. “I guess I don’t. Maybe I should—”
His hand on my thigh stopped me from rising. And speaking. And thinking. Who was this guy?
“We met the other night. I’m Luca.”
I think I blinked, but that was really all I could do. Luca? No clue. And also, that hand needed to be gone. Immediately. I shoved it off my leg and inched back, cursing myself for sitting in the corner and trapping myself.
He must have caught on to my utter lack of knowledge of his existence. “At the bar. We were talking, but you said it was warm and ran for the bathroom.”
Oh hell. Luca—L-Name guy, gorilla shifter, had done dealings with Jericho. Thought my owning a bakery was quaint.
I was still mad about that.
“Right. Sorry. It’s dark in here.” And you’re totally forgettable.
“Sure thing. I get it, but now you know who I am. I was hoping to run into you again.” He leaned closer, looking at me in a way that…well… You know that feeling? That tingle on the back of your neck that tells you—the prey animal—to get the hell away from something scary? Yeah. I had it. He was looking at me with far more interest than I wanted.
Time to skedaddle. “Well, Lu—” Lucas? Luke? Ludacris? Shit, his name never quite stuck. I coughed to cover up my fumble. “Excuse me. Must be my allergies. So yeah, it was good to see you again, but I think I’m going to go join my friends on the dance floor.”
“I’ll come with you.”
So…he was a guy who couldn’t take a hint. Shocking. I didn’t want to make a scene, though, plus I had a gaggle of female shifters who could back me up. So I kept my mouth shut and made my way through the crowd. Luca followed—a little too closely for my comfort, to be honest.
“Oh, looks like Ginger got herself a live one,” Cora—bear shifter—said. I tried to shake my head, to give her the “this guy needs to go away” look, but she was too far into her tray of cupcakes to pick up what I was putting down. Figured.
“Aren’t you two cute together?” Fiona said, literally shoving me back toward Luca. “You should totally dance.”
“Yeah, I don’t think—”
“We should.” Gorilla-guy grabbed me by the hips and yanked me against him as the girls tittered and giggled and basically acted like drunken matchmakers. I rocked side to side, trying hard to keep my composure—and plan my escape—as Luca bumped against me. Seriously, who thought dry-humping a girl’s ass was hot? When had this become a thing? I didn’t need some stranger’s half-hard dick pressed against me. I didn’t know where that thing had been. Besides…my mind was still stuck on a certain dragon shifter who could probably mop the floor with this gorilla. He had the only dick I was interested in. Not that I was going to have it again. No dick for me. No dragon shifter, either. Kingston—totally unforgettable name—would likely leave town soon enough, taking a piece of my heart with him.
And now I’d be singing that old Janis Joplin song the rest of the night. The one about taking another little piece of my heart. The one I only knew about fifteen words of. Wonderful.
Trying to focus on the here and now, I danced away from L-Name and his half-hard dick to a more open area on the floor. Arms up, eyes open, watching as Fiona and Cora and the rest of the girls laughed and moved, I gave myself over to the music. Throwing myself into the moves as the music blared and the bass pumped through the space. It was loud, hot, a little wild…and not at all what I needed right then. But I tried. At least until I noticed the girls had moved themselves farther away from me than I’d like. Never leave your pack, and all that. I moved as if to head for them, but Luca grabbed my arm and pulled me back against him.
“Where are you going, Ging?”
Two soft Gs, of course. As if the final “er” was just too much to say. What was with men not using my name lately? And why did Ging bug me way more than Sparky?
I really needed to go home. “This was fun, but I want to join my friends.”
“You don’t need them. I’m right here.” And that, my friends, was when he grabbed me. Not like Kingston had the night before—not gently guiding me where he wanted me to go. Nope. Gorilla-guy grabbed my arm hard, almost making me flinch, and he pulled me against him. Tugged, yanked, jerked, snatched—whatever verb fit the vision of a huge man dragging a not-so-huge girl against his chest, that was it. And I was done.
“That’s really not how this works.” I tried to extricate myself from his gorilla grip, but he only tugged harder, rubbing himself against me. Again with the grinding. This wasn’t my thing. Usually dancing with a hot guy was fun, usually watching a couple basically have sex not fifteen feet in front of me was a riot, usually I got into the sensuality of the club and let my hair down.
Tonight wasn’t a usual night.
And this guy wasn’t playing by my rules.
“Hey,” I said, once again trying to pull away from the hands that kept clinging to me. “I think it’s time for me to go.”
“What? The night’s just getting started.”
Jesus, the man should have been an octopus instead of a gorilla. Who knew giant apes were so handsy?
“Yeah, but it’s been a long day, and I’m not feeling up to this.”
His face turned hard, his lips tight. “You’re not leaving me again.”
“Excuse me?” If there was any more sarcasm and disbelief available in my tone, I couldn’t find it. Every bit of force went into the “scuse” of excuse, every ounce of independent “don’t you dare tell me what to do”-ness backing up those words. I wasn’t being polite with that question, in case that wasn’t clear. “I’m not interested in dancing with you, so I’m leaving.”
I made it three steps, three short, clipped steps, before a big hand landed on my shoulder and I was spinning. Not in a good way.
Not good at all.
10
Kingston
The Metro Lounge sat at the edge of town in what had likely been an industrial area of the city. Well, as industrial as Kinship Cove got. Still, the street seemed dark and deserted, the club situated in a big warehouse-looking building, and the music loud enough to hear three blocks away.
I was going to hate this place.
But, if Ginger was in there, I had to go. I needed to find her, to make sure she was okay. To spank that pert ass of hers for leaving me so stealthily. Never again. If I couldn’t allow myself to sleep another night for the rest of my life just to keep her with me, I’d do it. She was worth sleepless nights and always being on guard.
That didn’t mean I still wouldn’t spank her later. I’d bet she’d like that.
The club was about as dark and loud and hyped-up as I’d expected. Human and shifter alike crowded into every available space, talking too loud, drinking too much, and basically getting in my way. But even over all that, over the liquor and the perfume and the sex—because, by the fates, did the place smell like sex—I caught a whiff of exactly what I’d been looking for. Cinnamon.
Ginger. I released my dragon enough to hunt for my mate, pushing past people unapologetically as I tracked my girl. Let everyone be pissed that I’d shoved them out of my way. I gave no fucks about their hurt feelings. All I cared about, all I needed in that moment, was my mate.
Whom I finally spotted out on the dance floor.
With the guy from the bar the other night.
&nb
sp; And she was kissing him.
My dragon roared in my head, and my gut filled with hot lead. Or, at least, it felt that way. My mate had her lips on another man’s. Had her hands gripping his arms and pulling him tighter. Had her—
Wait.
I allowed my dragon to come even closer to the surface, gave him a bit more rein to use his senses. Something looked off about the picture before me. More off than just Ginger in another man’s arms. She wasn’t pulling him closer; she was pushing against him. And she definitely wasn’t kissing him back.
A whiff of cinnamon pulsed by me again, my dragon picking it out of the rest of the scents with ease. But this time, there was an acrid sort of tinge to it. An added odor that told me exactly how Ginger was feeling.
