Suddenly, Dad and I perk up as our inhuman hearing detects a familiar vehicle pulling up outside the house. I'm beyond grateful for the distraction.
"Harmony and Scarlett are here," Dad announces for Mom's benefit, since her human hearing doesn't work as well as our werewolf ears.
I move away from Mom and Dad to go grab my favorite tooled cowboy boots and sit on the bed to slip them on over my artfully ripped skinny jeans. I paired them with a cute plaid shirt tied at my waist over a white tank, and my thick caramel blond hair is pulled up into a long ponytail.
"Will you come home Wednesday for the full moon?" Dad asks as I stand, his eyes laced with sadness again.
"Of course," I reply with a warm smile as I walk back over to him. "And we'll get that nine-point buck this time."
Recently, a huge whitetail in his prime moved into the Wolcott Nature Preserve, that's basically our backyard, and has been eluding us on our hunts for several months now. But our kind of hunting doesn't involve guns or camouflage outfits or anything else remotely human. We use our teeth and claws, and the only trophies we collect are bellies full of warm meat. Hunting is our family's and the pack's way of reaffirming our bonds. We almost always get together to hunt on the full moon since it's when the pull of the wolves inside us is strongest. I wouldn't miss a chance to hunt with my father. He's taught me so much about being a werewolf, and I know he has a lot more to teach me.
Dad smiles gloriously as he puts an arm around me again. Mom nods in approval at me and wraps an arm around me too. I said exactly the right thing to soothe and please my father, and it fills me with warmth. I close my eyes and bask in my parents love for several moments as a pang of bittersweetness hits me again. I'm going to miss seeing them everyday.
"Well, there's a Hallmark moment if I ever saw one," a rich alto voice says from the doorway.
I smile at Scarlett's comment and glance up to see her grinning at us from the doorway with her striking green-rimmed amber eyes lit up in amusement. She looks gorgeous as usual, her rich dark-red hair hanging in big curls almost to her waist. It frames her oval face with its flawless porcelain complexion that's marred only by a tiny mole on her left cheek. She's wearing a denim jacket over one of her colorful bohemian-style dresses with a slit up the front showing off a pair of dark-brown cowboy boots. As always, a necklace with a large black stone speckled with white and wrapped in wire graces her neck. It's more than just jewelry since she's our pack's mage. Every piece of jewelry a mage wears has a purpose beyond a mere accessory, and hers is no different. I know from what she's told me that the snowflake obsidian pendant grounds her energies, and the silver of the wire promotes balance and clarity.
Harmony is smiling over her best friend's shoulder with her warm golden-brown eyes focused on me. She and I are several inches taller than Scarlett, both of us willowy and lithe compared to her voluptuous frame. My older sister is dressed more simply than Scarlett and me. She's wearing a deep burgundy sweater, dark jeans, and tall brown riding boots. Her straight hair hangs freely around her shoulders in a long and silky curtain of dark sable.
"Are you ready to go?" Harmony asks as she and Scarlett enter my room.
"Definitely," I answer, then eagerly step away from my parents to grab my phone, my ID, and some cash out of my purse.
The three of us are going out to Harrisville, the next town over, for some fun and dancing at The Spur and Buckle. I haven't been twenty-one for long, and this is my first chance to visit the nightclub that I've watched Harmony and Scarlett take off to without me so many times when I wasn't of age yet. It's nice not to be left out for once, and I've waited a long time for it since the two women are quite a bit older than then me. My sister is thirty and Scarlett is twenty-nine, but they've always tried to include me when they can. Even if I sometimes feel like a third wheel, or even a fourth if my oldest brother tags along. Wyatt is Harmony's fraternal twin, and they're the closest of all our siblings.
We invited Emmett's new mate, Raven, to join us on our girl's night out, but she and my brother have been basically joined at the hip since they met less than a month ago. Considering she was kidnapped a few weeks back by some demonborn ass-hat with an onyx amulet around his neck that magically hid his identity, I don't blame them for wanting to spend all their time together right now.
I say a brief yet heartfelt goodbye to Mom and Dad, with quick kisses for each of them, and note the slight sadness in their eyes. Adjusting to an empty nest is going to be hard on them both. I follow Harmony and Scarlett upstairs and out through the front entrance of my parent's huge bi-level home to my sister's older white Dodge Durango. We hop in, already happily chattering away as we wind around the driveway and pull out onto the narrow back country road.
The drive to Harrisville is uneventful yet fun as we banter back and forth with liberal amounts of sarcasm and friendly insults thrown every which way. But when Harmony and Scarlett start up a conversation about one-night stands with plenty of sexual innuendo to go along with it, I grow quiet. The subject of sex is completely out of my wheelhouse. Harmony knows that, but I'm not sure if Scarlett does, and frankly, I'm kind of embarrassed about being a virgin at my age. I just haven't found any man I think is worth giving my V-card to no matter how much I'd like to ditch it. And I definitely don't want to talk about sex, or my lack thereof. Luckily, neither of them try to drag me into the discussion before we reach The Spur and Buckle and pull into the packed parking lot of the strip mall it occupies.
The huge brightly lit sign above the front entrance sports a Wild West font. It's bracketed by a neon boot and spur to its left and a neon belt buckle to its right. I can already hear loud country music twanging away inside as we step out of the truck. The place screams country and western bar far and wide. I'm so excited to see the inside that I'm already out the back passenger door and halfway to the entrance in the time it takes Harmony and Scarlett to get out of the SUV themselves.
"Slow down, Slim!" Scarlett hollers after me with laughter in her voice as they follow me. It's the nickname she's been calling me since I hit a massive growth spurt at age eleven and shot up into a tall gangly kid by the time I was thirteen. It used to piss me off, but now I like it since I know it's from a place of affection. Scarlett is good people.
I slow enough near the doors into the club for Harmony and Scarlett to catch up, then walk in first with my head held high. I approach the big burly doorman and whip out my ID. I hand it to him, noting his grim and stern expression as he studies it intently. The guy obviously needs to lighten up in a serious manner.
"As you can see," I say with a saucy grin, "I'm of age, and I'm here to party."
His expression softens as he eyes me up and down appreciatively for a moment, then an actual smile graces his face. "I can see that," he says as he hands me my ID back. "Have a good time, sweetheart."
"Oh, I'm gonna." I give the guy a cheesy wink. "I'm gonna raise the roof and bust a move all night long." I do a quick little two-step for emphasis.
Harmony snorts out a laugh as she comes up behind me. "Ignore her," she tells the doorman, who's straight up grinning at me now. "This is her first time here, and she's a little over excited about it."
"No worries," he says as he takes Harmony's and Scarlett's IDs. He studies them briefly and hands them back, still wearing a genuine smile. "You ladies have fun tonight."
"Thanks," Scarlett says and drags me inside before I can start bantering with the guy again. Party pooper.
My heightened senses are assaulted the instant I set foot in the club. The raucous country music and the hum of the crowd hit me, along with the scent of booze and hot sweaty bodies. My she-wolf is immediately repulsed by the sensory overload and urges me to flee. I fight the impulse and focus on taking in my surroundings, thankful that the place is smoke-free, or it would be even worse for me.
I smile as I look around. The interior of The Spur and Buckle looks exactly as I imagined it would with plank floors and over the top western decor everyw
here. The dance floor on the other side of the room is packed with men and women dancing in front of the stage where a live band is currently playing. The nearby U-shaped bar is just as busy with patrons looking for a drink. There's even a mechanical bull. The place is perfect.
"Alright, girls," Scarlett announces over the din. "We have three goals for tonight. Getting drunk, eating Buffalo wings, and dancing with sexy cowboys." She sticks a hand out palm down between us. "Are you in?" she asks with an ornery glimmer in her eyes.
Though getting drunk is near impossible for Harmony and me with our werewolf metabolisms, I'm down with the other two goals. I'm more than ready to cut loose and have a good time. Who knows, maybe I'll find a sexy cowboy I'd like to give my V-card to, and if all else fails I'll just dance my ass off all night instead.
"I'm in!" I shout over the music as Harmony nods enthusiastically.
I slap my hand down on Scarlett's in solidarity, and my sister does the same, then we head straight for the only empty table left near the bar. Within minutes of sitting, we have our drinks in front of us and our food order in. Harmony and Scarlett start chatting, but my attention is on the dance floor full of stomping boots and spinning bodies. I can't wait to get out there as I watch in giddy anticipation.
That's when I sense a sudden shift in the air, a staticky electric sensation that shivers across my skin as I feel the weight of someone's attention on me. I unconsciously glance toward the darkened corner to my left to find a man sitting alone at a nearby table watching me with unmistakable heated interest. His dark ocean blue eyes are fixed keenly on me with short jet-black hair hanging down over them and intensifying their deep striking color. His expression is fierce and hungry, his hard masculine features enhanced by sharp cheekbones, a dark stubbly beard, and full sensuous lips. From what I can see, he has a sinful body to die for, all bulging muscles and sculpted male perfection under his tight-fitting T-shirt and dark jeans. I can see his toned and sharply defined biceps peeking tantalizingly out from beneath his sleeves. Yummy.
My she-wolf perks up and can't wait to get close enough to scent him. He's sexy as all hell, but he ain't no cowboy. He's a badboy if I ever saw one, and like a moth to a flame, I know I won't be able to resist him. Hell, I don't even want to, and something tells me that he might just be exactly what I'm looking for tonight.
3
RONAN
I stare dubiously at the hexagonal cut piece of crystal in my palm, admiring the deep hews of purple and green fading in and out of each other along its length. It looks like just an ordinary pendant attached to a thick silver chain, but it's anything but what it seems. A spell has been crafted into its depths. A spell of concealment that's supposedly able to hide my wolf from anyone else's senses and make me appear human, if the damn thing works. Even though I hate using magic, which is why I haven't worn the thing yet, I know it will come in handy while hunting another of my kind. That's why I asked the mage coven who hired me to kill all those vampires to craft it for me in exchange for taking a pay cut for the hit. Fuck, I hope it's worth it. Especially since it took several days for them to make it and delayed my hunt for that murderous bastard, Rett Weylin.
Hate and rage surge up inside me at just the mere thought of his name. I close my eyes and can still see him kneeling over my father's lifeless body with blood all over his hands. I think about his culpability in the events that led to my mother's death too. My eyes start to sting. Fuck. I grip the pain and anguish tight, and shove it back down into the depths of my scarred and blackened heart with a vicious effort of will. There'll be time enough for that when Weylin is dead and my family has been avenged. The hate and rage serve my purpose far better than blubbering will.
I sigh and stand from the pathetic motel bed in the equally pathetic motel room. My room looks like it was last decorated in the 1980s with a hideous green and rust floral bedspread with matching green walls and rust colored carpet. I hope I won't be stuck here for long. I'm staying in some shit-stain of a town called Harrisville since it's close to my destination. I thought it best not to stay in Wolcott itself since small towns like that always seem to notice strangers lurking about and have lots of gossips to babble about it.
I go to the mirror above the shabby looking dresser and pull the necklace over my head, then stare at it expectantly. A few seconds later, just as I'm about to take the thing off and call it a wash, a peculiar and unsettling sensation falls over me. It's kind of like that moment when the air gets knocked out of your lungs, and you're on the edge of panic just before you catch your breath. Thankfully, it quickly fades until I feel normal again, but when I reach for my wolf, I realize that he feels muffled somehow. He's still there. I'm still me in every way, and my heightened senses haven't been effected, but that part of me feels subdued and dampened. Huh. I guess the damn thing worked. I grin in the mirror, but it looks more like a toothy grimace than anything friendly since I rarely smile.
I tuck the pendant out of sight under my T-shirt, then grab my car keys off the dresser. I'm more than ready for my next goal tonight, getting laid. It's been months because I've been taking so many jobs lately, and I need to take the edge off, so I can focus completely on this one. It's the most important hit of my life, and I'm not going to take the chance of being distracted by anything. I've been waiting a long time for this, and I'm not going to fuck it up.
I head out to the Mach 1, and drive across town to a nightclub I noticed on my way through town earlier tonight. Crowds of people aren't my thing, but desperate times and all. A club full of eager horny women is a necessary evil for a drifter with physical needs that need fulfilled. It's not like I'm looking for a girlfriend. As a rule, I don't get close to anyone.
The place that I now can see is called The Spur and Buckle, thanks to the garish sign above the entrance, is so packed that I end up having to park at the far end of the lot. I take a moment to remove my Beretta 9mm and its holster from where I have it hidden at the small of my back. I'm not stupid enough to try to take a gun into the club. I shove it in the glove box feeling a little bereft without it, but I still have my boot knives. I'm not going anywhere completely unarmed if I can help it. I'm willing to gamble with those being discovered. Most places never check there anyway, and I doubt this place will.
I cross the lot to the entrance, eying the area for threats with all my senses on alert. You don't live this long as a hitman without becoming paranoid. I've killed a lot of dangerous monsters with equally dangerous friends, and you never know who or what might come gunning for you looking for some payback.
The burly guy manning the door looks grim and unfriendly as I wordlessly hand him my ID. It's a fake, but a good one, and he doesn't even bat an eye at its authenticity. I nod in acknowledgment as he hands it back with a bored expression.
"There's a ten dollar cover," he says.
I frown at the amount, then notice a sign on the wall behind him stating that its lady's night and women get in free. Okay, now the amount makes sense and gives me hope I'll find what I need here tonight. I pay him, still without saying a word, and let him give me a cursory pat-down for weapons, missing the knives just like I predicted, before I head inside the club.
Good God, the smell, the noise, the whole atmosphere, it all hits me in an overwhelming assault. I shudder as the wolf in me revolts against it and urges me to flee. I ignore him and try my best to tune out the stench of booze, sweat, and desperation. The loud twangy music grates on my nerves, but I try to ignore it as best as I can as I scan the room.
The place is a living breathing country music cliché with plank floors, a bunch of Western-themed crap, and even a mechanical bull for fuck's sake. On the up side, the place is swarming with women, most in tight jeans and even tighter shirts with the seemingly prerequisite cowboy boots on nearly every pair of feet. A few of them nearby are already sizing me up like a fresh piece of meat. I've got plenty to choose from, and I just need to decide on my quarry for the night.
I spot an empty table in
a corner where the lighting is fairly dim and head that direction. It will give me a good view of the room without leaving my back vulnerable to an attack while I survey my options. I've learned as a hitman, never to rush into anything without some thorough reconnaissance and a solid plan. Anything else could get you killed.
A dark-haired waitress approaches me within moments of taking a seat on the tall stool. Her appreciative gaze slides over my body as she takes my drink order and her dark eyes sparkle with interest. I appraise her in return, doing nothing to hide it, and watch her blush with a little smirk of satisfaction. She's pretty, with pouty lips and a curvy body. She smells aroused too, but there's a naive innocence about her that I'm not sure could handle a dark and hardened man like me. Besides, I could be stuck in this town for a while, and I might want to come back here again if I feel the need. It's best not to shit where you eat.
When she walks away, I shift my attention elsewhere, looking for a more appropriate choice. My gaze sweeps across the room over to the entrance and then I go completely still at what I see. The most glorious creature I've ever set eyes on just walked through the door, and I'm instantly spellbound.
She's tall and obviously athletic with toned legs that go on for miles sheathed in tight ripped denim and a pair of cowboy boots she manages to pull off with style. Her thick caramel blond hair is pulled up into a long ponytail that flows down her back. It looks so silky soft that an ache to touch it and wrap it around my fist falls over me. Her perfect little breasts are highlighted by a tight plaid shirt tied at her waist. A long graceful neck leads up to a beautiful oval face with big baby blue eyes and pretty bow-shaped lips. And those lips are currently wearing the most gorgeous smile I've ever seen as she looks around the club. Good God, I want to kiss the hell out of her. The deep longing that falls over me is like nothing I've ever felt before and entirely alien to me. Stranger still, my wolf, who usually could take or leave the women I fuck, takes notice of her too. That's never happened to me before, and I don't know what it means, but he wants her just as much if not more than the man in me does.
Rogue Heart Page 2
