by Mary Hughes
His little face screwed up and his tongue pushed out repeatedly.
So buy some, after talking to Mason.
Sophia headed for the front door, adding sweep up to her mental list as she crunched gingerly through the broken glass. She’d grasped the doorknob when her nape prickled. Her gaze rose.
Something moved beyond her car, across the street. She stopped breathing.
A hooded man lurked in the shadows, intently watching the store.
Chapter Two
Sophia swallowed fear like crushed ice. She tried to see the figure’s face—but the hood shadowed it.
The head raised. A glimpse of man-chin… He turned and disappeared.
She clutched her pearl necklace. Her whole body felt cold.
King yipped. Are you okay?
She breathed deep, pushed the air out and shoved aside her shock with it. “I will be.” Saying it to herself, not the dog. Really. “I just have to get on track.” She breathed again. “Okay. I’ve got to find Aunt Linda. According to Mason, Noah was probably the last person to see her. He might be able to tell me what happened or where she went—if I can find him. If not, maybe Mason and I can figure out what’s going on.”
King yipped eagerly. Either he agreed with her plan or he needed to go walkies bad.
The streetlight outside flared on. Sunset was only minutes away and complete darkness would fall soon after. “I have to go now.”
King trotted toward her as if he’d come too.
“Oh no, sweetie.” Bending, she pushed him back gently before he stepped on the broken glass. His body was surprisingly sturdy for such a little guy. Maybe the weight of that swinging package. “No walkies now. Use the paper.”
“Yiiiip.” He scowled at her. It was equal parts scary and adorable.
She felt herself weakening, but worry for Aunt Linda made her snap, “King, no. You can’t come.”
His scowl darkened to thundercloud and he howled—like a soprano wolf.
She stifled a shiver. King was just a dog. She skipped through the door and quickly closed it.
His aggrieved barking followed her out.
Noah stood at the edge of the broken glass and barked after the stunning but annoying woman Sophia. How dare she leave him?
He winced at the embarrassing soprano yips that came out of his muzzle.
Dropping to disgusted haunches he snuffled a breath out. He sucked air in through his nostrils to calm himself, then tried yet again to shift, either human or wolf. He’d been trying all day. It was as effective as it had been the first three hundred and fifty times, which was not at all.
He’d have thought that, after a whole day as the poofball, he’d have at least gotten used to it. But no. He still went ass over teakettle when he’d tried to catch the woman.
She had the most amazing eyes. Star-shot blue, like the moon sparkling on a Grecian sea. Strong nose, pure skin, kissable lips—
His tail bone vibrated. His hindquarters popped up at the buzz, the startled reaction of his inner…well, not wolf in this form, but his inner canine. His human mind knew it was his cell phone, probably his lieutenant Mason calling again, slightly fewer times than Noah’d tried to shift.
Normally, Noah could shift whenever he wanted, day or night, any time of the month, though the full moon made it easier. His grandpa had explained that it was because they were magical werewolves. Clothes shifted with them, including whatever mechanicals they were carrying.
Which meant the phone was a giant internal joy buzzer. Noah could’ve spent a few minutes nudging it out, but why? It wasn’t like he had hands or a voice to answer.
Instead he trotted around to shake the buzz off, nearly planting his face on the floor because of his stubby little legs. A hundred ninety pounds of human, two hundred pounds of wolf, Noah was finding fifteen pounds of terrier unbelievably hard to work with.
Cursed by a witch. Bad enough. But he had to be cursed by a witch with a lousy aim and a wicked sense of humor.
Then the beautiful Sophia had shown up. His tongue lolled out and he panted at the memory. Amazing eyes and lips as sweet as ripe cherries…he shook himself.
The witch’s niece had shown up. Never trust a witch.
Although, just because Sophia was related to a witch didn’t mean she was one. He didn’t know about witch breeding like he knew about shifters, but he knew enough to guess the gene for doing magic wasn’t dominant, unlike the gene for being magic.
She certainly had been chatty. He wondered if she would have been as chatty with the man Noah as she had been with the dog King. Probably not. The thought rather wounded him.
The last of the sun disappeared. Mist fogged his brain. Needles stabbed his legs. He stumbled and fell sprawling to the floor.
He came to…human.
And naked.
Sophia considered taking her car to talk to Mason, but Matinsfield wasn’t that big, a rubber band of a town stretched along Main, so it was no big deal to walk.
Her power walk—her natural pace, not running from scary hooded guys at all—propelled her along the street. Streetlights stuttered on, jarring her already tender nerves. Dark, empty storefronts didn’t help. It saddened her that there were so many. Aunt Linda had said the town wasn’t doing so well, but she’d never dreamed it was this bad.
A few places were open. Her step lightened passing the new FreshFresh submarine sandwich shop. Only three thousand people, but Matinsfield had three of the chain sub stores, a retail aberration that seemed to work despite itself.
Like a witch attracted to an alpha…?
Nope. Not going there. Keep your ass unsmited, Sophia.
She turned north on Pine. Blackwood Small Engine Repair was the last building before the town ran out. Expecting a rickety shack and cracked blacktop, she was surprised by a sweeping skirt of neat red pavers around a large cinder block building. Despite the local economy, the store was obviously doing well.
She’d also expected lawn mowers and snow blowers, and while there were some of those, the biggest window was filled with motorcycles.
She leaned palms against the glass and stared in awe at cruisers, sportsters and off-road bikes, all lovingly displayed. Pushing inside, cool air caressed her cheeks. She ran a finger along buttery leather jackets and sleek carbon fiber bikes, everything she could want for her riding pleasure, including some bitchin’ helmets.
No one was in the store, but a door beyond led her into a garage, mostly dark, where oil and metal stung her nose. A kerchunk of tools came from her left, bright light filtering through the tall shelves that broke the floor into bays. To her right were garage and people doors.
Straight ahead, leaning nonchalantly on its stand like a gal’s wet dream, was the sweetest-looking motorcycle she’d ever seen.
She floated nearer. Ducati graced the gas tank. A hole marred the frame. Engine parts littered a worktable that, swept together, might fit the hole.
If not for her missing aunt, she’d have stared all night. But she was here for Aunt Linda—and Noah. Maybe he was here. Her heart beat faster at the thought, turning her from the bike.
She followed the clangs to the last bay.
Working under the shop light was a tall, heavily muscled man wearing jeans, grease and not much else. He applied a wrench to a big cruiser, his back to her. She was still half the floor away when he spun.
Power-filled eyes startled her. Chocolate irises, ringed in unusual, rich copper, said here was a strong magical being. A beta at least. No wedding ring.
He wasn’t single because of his looks. Those eyes were made for low bedroom light. His shaggy brown hair was streaked with gold. Combined with the heavy muscle on his big frame, his chiseled lips and his square jaw, he was one appealing wolf.
“Who are you?” He growled it.
Okay, that wasn’t so appealin
g. Shifters. The animal within always snarled through. “I’m Sophia Blue. Linda’s my aunt. We spoke on the phone. You’re Mason, I take it?”
His stance relaxed, and he set aside the wrench, grabbed a couple of wipes from a pop-up container and cleaned his hands. “You’re here about Noah?”
“Yes.” Sophia kept her own body relaxed, and her gaze steady and slightly averted. No sense antagonizing the wolf in Mason. Thank you, Arcane Animal Husbandry 102. “My aunt is missing, and Noah was probably the last person to see her. I thought we could try to find him.”
“I know where he is now.” The growl was back. “So do you.”
She opened her mouth to reply that’s impossible, when a snarl of awareness seized her.
“Damn my aching paws.” Noah raised his head and shook it, reassured when hair flopped around his skull instead of doggie ears. He flexed his fingers then all his muscles. His body was cramped from wearing the small dog all day but also because, while he usually shifted forms smoothly and easily, that transformation hurt.
His wolf prodded him to leap up and run after the gorgeous Sophia…run to Mason’s, that was. He resisted with willpower born of lifelong practice. He’d gotten to be alpha at the impossibly tender age of twenty-nine through brains, speed, brains, strength—and brains. He checked his surroundings with eye and ear and most importantly nose. No immediate danger, except for the fat cat in the kitchen. If it was possible to be fatally annoying, Mr. Snippy Kibbles had a lock.
Noah climbed to his bare feet. “About time the witch’s hex wore off,” he muttered.
He checked rapidly that all parts of him were present and in working order, including his package, the one Sophia had called impressive…that made him preen…damn it, he was a deadly wolf and deadly wolves did not preen.
His clothes lay in a heap next to him. He prodded them, but they seemed normal. Anything he wore usually stayed on his human body. Must’ve been the hex. He dressed then pulled his cell phone from the jeans’ pocket. His lieutenant had called only a dozen times, not the five hundred it seemed. No message. Mason was as cautious as Noah.
Noah rapidly considered his options. Go to Sophia… He clamped his eyes shut. No. Debrief with Mason. Then go to Sophia… Fine. She was the witch’s niece, and he owed the witch money for damages to her store.
It had absolutely nothing to do with Sophia’s pure, kissable mouth, the sexy sway of her hips… “Bite me.” His eyes flew open, and he jabbed Mason’s speed dial.
He was in the process of giving Mason a flash update when his lieutenant interrupted with news that a gorgeous woman had just come into the garage.
Sophia had arrived. Noah clipped a goodbye, rushed out the door, shifted to wolf and bounded off into the night.
“I don’t know where Noah is. How could I?” Yet even as Sophia spoke, that snarl of awareness curled up her nape.
Mason said, “He phoned just a minute ago. Said you named him Kin—”
“—someone to help,” a bass voice thrummed from the dark depths.
Sophia spun. That masculine voice, vibrating with power, plucked a long string of deep, throbbing need.
A man emerged from the blackness, gliding into the sharp white light. Her entire belly turned inside out.
Crane-her-neck tall. A smooth prowl, all muscular grace, extraordinary strength and endurance. A fall of black hair over a high, regal brow. He was total alpha—powerful, deadly and sexy as hell.
Her eyes widened, her jaw dropped and her heart beat hard against her ribs as her hormones plonked “Endearing Young Charms”—and then exploded. Not really, but the full-body shiver and the rush of hot need through her veins was anything but mild.
He stopped a few feet from her, standing with breathtaking stillness. Werewolves were usually ruled by their aggression, so the man’s cool composure was even more striking.
Definitely a were, though. His honed jaw was textured by the rough black morning-after-sex stubble all male wolf shifters seemed to have. Her body splashed with a hot me want of desire.
Their eyes met.
Power shows in the eyes. This man had power, and to spare. She was stunned by irises of pure silver around pupils which opened to her like velvety black pools. She fell in and happily drowned.
“Noah, finally,” Mason said. “I found Marlowe, but he’d already gotten rid of the…” He cut Sophia a glance. “The thing. I read the kid the riot act, made him do some work around here and sent him home.”
“Good.” Noah’s answer was for Mason but his gaze was still locked on Sophia. He took a step nearer, his eyes flashing. “You’re Linda’s niece.”
“Yes.” Nervously, she fingered her pearls. Those gleaming silver eyes knocked her off-balance, drilling into her very thoughts. She sucked in a breath, got a lungful of hot male and nearly imploded when her body zinged like every hormone she had was shouting alleluia.
Damn it, no. He was a shifter. Worse, he was pack alpha, bound to be mated. An ex-witch slavering after a mated alpha?
Smiting was happening for sure.
He glided another step closer, his muscles sliding easily under his skin and clothes. He raised his hand and caught her fumbling fingers, stilling them.
The warm pads of his fingers pressed against her skin were stunningly sensual. Her lips fell open because she was having trouble breathing. She blinked at him.
He lifted her hand from her pearls and brought it to his nose. Finally those remarkable eyes closed as he inhaled. A tiny, appreciative smile curved his lips, as if he were enjoying the bouquet of a fine wine. “You smell amazing.” His voice rippled with a low, sensual growl.
Her body responded with “Endearing Young Charms”. Boom-boom.
When his lids lifted, his gaze had gentled. The wolf within was very strong, but the man controlled it utterly.
A half step closer, him or her, she wasn’t sure who. Their auras kissed. A thousand butterflies jigged inside her. Pure male heat rolled over her skin, edged with virile, wild magic. A tremor hit low in her belly. If she leaned in a fraction of an inch, she’d touch him, flesh-on-flesh…she swallowed hard. Touching him might be like completing an electrical circuit, and she’d be the one fried. “Look, I’m trying to find my Aunt Linda.”
His gaze dropped to her mouth as she spoke. “She owns the bookstore.”
“Yes.” Under that silvery gaze, her lips felt too full, throbbing. The word was hard to form. She licked.
His pupils dilated until his eyes were pure black, riveted to her mouth. “You’re the gor—the woman in the picture.”
What had he been about to say? Gorilla? Gourmand? Gorgeous? “What picture?”
“Your aunt has a photograph of you.” He released her hand to slide a finger under her chin.
All her breath expelled. Without oxygen, she let him tilt her face to one side, then the other. The throbbing in her lips intensified.
His lids lowered, lazy with promise. “Your nose is longer than I expected.”
Wow. Just what a woman wanted to hear. “Thanks.”
“It’s a good nose. Honest. Elegant. I like it.”
Instantly the throbbing was back, but she pushed it away, mirrored it by stepping back. “An honest, elegant snout is still a snout.”
He followed her. “Your nose is unique, like your scent. Exotic. Deeply enticing.”
He was right on top of her. She stared up into eyes glowing between lids slit, not in suspicion, but heavy-lidded with intent.
The intent to kiss her.
Chapter Three
Any words forming in her brain never made it to her mouth as his lips claimed hers.
Male. Exciting. He dazzled all her senses, the scent of crisp cotton and fresh outdoors, the taste of dark and wild magic. His lips caressed her, soft and sweet, while the spear of his tongue blazed. Her sighs were underscored by his pleased g
rowls.
Awash in him, her heart thudded and her blood sang. Bursts of pleasure sparkled like firecrackers. She lifted on her toes for more.
His kiss slanted and deepened, the wild taking of the wolf but also the mastery of the man, one who knew how to give a woman what she wanted. Her mouth opened and his tongue plunged. His fingers threaded in her hair to pull her closer. Their bodies melded like two candles dripping hot wax.
Mason cleared his throat.
Noah stiffened. Lifted his head with a soft sigh.
Without the liquid caress of his hot, expert mouth, Sophia’s sanity returned. What had she done? Witch and shifter…no, not, never. She gathered enough tattered willpower to step out of his arms.
“I’m sorry…” Her voice was breathy. Damn singing hormones. She tried again. “I’m sorry that happened.”
He stepped back too. “Why?” He crossed his arms, his biceps and pecs bulging. “I’m not.”
She swallowed her tongue, totally forgetting why she should be sorry. Oh yeah, shifter/witch taboo—but he wouldn’t know she was a witch. And even if he did, he wouldn’t care. Most shifters pretended the Witches’ Council didn’t exist.
“Hey,” Mason said. “I didn’t want you two to stop. I just wanted to let you know that if you’re going to get friendly—” Mason’s grin was so big Sophia wanted to punch him, “—I’m heading out now. There’s a couch in the office. Lock up when you’re done.” He lumbered off.
“Stars,” she said. “What was that all about?”
“He’s encouraging me to find a wife.” Noah grimaced.
Noah wasn’t mated. Yes. No. None of her business.
But poor Noah. He had his own Aunt Linda, nagging for the pitter-patter of little paws. Although with the confident way he stood there, bigger and badder than anything, it was hard to feel too sorry.
Noah thrust his hands in his pockets. It framed all that was glorious. “I should go too.”
“Wait. I wanted to talk with you.”
