Shifter Wars: Supernatural Battle (Werewolf Dens Book 1)

by Kelly St Clare

  This had to happen.

  Out of breath, I joined the line of partygoers seeking entrance to The Dens. The handsome bouncer caught my eye from the front, beckoning me.

  Ugh, was he going to be a pain?

  “You’re here to see the boss?” he asked.

  Extending an olive branch? “Yeah,” I replied. “Listen, sorry about the other night. I was in a temper.”

  He drawled a smile, stamping a woman’s hand and gesturing her inside. “Leroy has that effect on women.”

  “Dimples?”

  “Cute. Mind if I borrow that?”

  I grinned. “Go wild.”

  He lowered his head and dark hair flopped over his eyes. “In the interest of keeping the peace, you should know Leroy uses those dimples as a weapon.”

  Good to know. “Thanks.”

  “No problem. I’m Hairy.”

  He extended a hand, looking at me expectantly. A glint of humour shone in his eyes, and I cocked a brow. Guys played the same games as girls, and this establishment had bro code written all over it.

  Hairy was finding out my name for Alarick.

  I took his hand. “Nice to meet you, Hairy. Might see ya around.”

  Withholding a smirk, I strode into the thrumming club, heading for the bar.

  The promise of an unforgettable night pulsed across the polished concrete floors, slithering up my spine like a lover’s caress. Magnetic was an understatement. I didn’t see how anyone could fail to respond to the blatant dare.

  Slipping into a stool, I caught the attention of a male bartender. Seriously, where is the sexy spring?

  He approached at a saunter. “What can I do for you, beautiful?”

  My ego would be huge after a week. “I don’t really know. Something fruity? Not too sweet though.”

  The guy leaned forward, face twisting. “Rhona?”

  “Not Rhona,” I answered. “Not a Thana.”

  The sneer disappeared as if snatched away.

  Interesting. The people in this bar were the only ones not gushing over Mum’s family. Even the cashiers at the supermarket had tripped over themselves to praise the Thanas.

  The bartender dialled his smile to ten. “Well, not Rhona and not Thana. Do you like gin?”

  No idea. “Sure.”

  “How does a lemon and raspberry gin cocktail sound, gorgeous?”

  I cocked a brow at his over-the-top flirting. “Delicious. And could you let Alarick know I’m here?”

  The bartender’s smoulder vanished. “You’re the saxophone player?”

  Uhm.

  “I wasn’t aware that was associated with leprosy,” I replied.

  He flashed a grin. “It’s not. I’ll get him for you. Drinks are on the house for workers.”

  The bartender disappeared like I really did have leprosy, and I ignored the covert looks from the other staff as I dug out my phone.

  Scrolling down to Logan’s number, I dialled before I wimped out.

  “Babe?”

  “Hey, Lo. Got a minute?”

  “Sure, just finished work.”

  “Busy day?”

  “You know it, sexy.”

  Logan was a junior litigator and the job came with huge hours.

  Licking my lips, I squeezed my eyes shut. “I have something to say that’s going to come as a surprise.”

  His voice was tight. “You’re pregnant.”

  “What? Jesus, no!”

  “Thank fuck,” he said, blowing out a breath.

  I could second that. “It’s nothing like that. Actually, some really good things have happened here. And. Well. I’ve decided to stay in Deception Valley—for a while.”

  My breath lodged in my chest at the heavy quiet.

  “What the fuck? Are you serious? For how long?”

  I grimaced. That’s why I’d left this call until last. “For the foreseeable future. It feels right here. I can’t explain it. Everything is so beautiful. The people are welcoming and, well, you know about my uncle and cousin. I want what this place—”

  “What about us?”

  Yikes. He was pissed, and I couldn’t blame him. This move was selfish, especially when we were meant to be a team.

  But I’d never acted selfishly in my life.

  My eyes wandered over the bottles lining the back of the bar. “That’s what we need to discuss.”

  “You’re ending things.”

  From pregnancy to breaking up. Talk about whiplash.

  “No, that’s not it. I wanted to talk with you about long distance. It’s up to you, of course. I can understand why you may not want to do that.”

  “So you’re asking if I want to break up with you?” he said sarcastically.

  Alpha males. “I realise this is a shock, Logan. If you’re too hurt right now to discuss it, we can talk tomorrow.”

  “A discussion, Andie. Are you for real? You’ve already made the damn decision. Long distance never works. You’ll be nine hours away. Is there even an airport there?”

  “We could make it work. You just need to be sure that you’re willing to commit to the distance thing. It’s not fair of me to assume.”

  His voice deepened. “This isn’t on me. Tell me what you want. How am I meant to take your sudden choice to live nine hours away?”

  Logan rarely reached this state. He had a loud and explosive kind of temper unless truly riled.

  “I want to be with you, Lo. Maybe long distance won’t work, but I want to give it a try. I’ll miss you—you know I will, but this wouldn’t be happening if I didn’t feel I had to do this.”

  “You aren’t acting like the person I know. Buying a car and disappearing to that hole in the ground. Forgetting to check in, then calling to tell me this. Is it your mother dying? Is that it?”

  Hurt speared me at the unexpected mention of Mum. “Of course. On some level. I came here to find out more about her. That’s a big part of why I’m staying—”

  “I’m asking if you’re handling the grief or if it’s handling you.”

  That was a jab. Heat crept over my jaw. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

  “What I said.”

  “Don’t make this about my mother, Logan. I understand you feel shitty. Be angry at me, but don’t make nasty comments. You know that’s too far.”

  “Nine hours is too far. And the question was genuine.”

  Like fuck it was. “How about if you ever lose one of your parents, you let me know how you’re handling the fucking grief? If you’d like to talk about this like a grown-up, call tomorrow. Until then, rub your fucking earlobes.”

  I hung up, throwing the phone on the bar and gripping the black stone counter, wishing I could snap off a chunk and crumble it to dust. After that, I’d smash all the bottles behind the bar and get to work on the stools and furniture.

  “Good evening.”

  That voice.

  I’d sacrifice lambs to that voice.

  The tension drained from my shoulders, and I peeked up at Alarick. A grey suit tonight. I much preferred my lumberjack daydream—torn jeans and a singlet that revealed glistening muscles. Maybe a beanie.

  Mmm.

  His honey eyes fixed on my face, but not in a good way. It was like all my tension after the call with Logan had fled into him. He looked ready to smash a few things himself.

  “Would you like to sit so my neck doesn’t get stuck in this position forever?” I flipped my hair.

  Bad Andie! Hair flipping was bad.

  He took the seat next to me. “Allow me to say that you put every other woman in here to shame in that dress.”

  The guy got an A+ in the compliments department. I was used to—and pretty proficient—in dirty talk but turned out plain ol’ charm had me floored, particularly because it wasn’t greasy charm.

  I also liked the way he sat with enough distance between us. I felt small sitting beside him, but he didn’t use his size to intimidate.

  The bartender placed my cocktail down, sliding
an amber drink with ice in front of Alarick.

  I sipped at my drink.

  “It’s so good,” I exclaimed, eyes widening. What was this again? Lemon, raspberry and gin cocktail? This was my new drink. Such a twenty-year-old thing to do.

  I smiled into the wide-brimmed glass.

  The bartender rubbed the back of his shaved head. “Glad you like it, miss.”

  Miss?

  This exchange was starting to feel like when one of my old friends called dibs on a guy and everyone else had to instantly friend zone them.

  Had Alarick made me off limits?

  I wasn’t down with anyone calling dibs on me.

  The bartender made scarce, and I took another sip.

  “Can I get your name?” Did he purposely speak quietly to put people at ease? His voice should be twenty times the volume with the broad expanse of his chest. He must lower his voice on purpose—which was strangely attractive.

  “Andie Booker.” I shivered.

  “Andie,” he repeated.

  I swallowed at the slightly dazed quality to his voice. “I’ve had time to think about your offer.”

  He blinked several times.

  Was he okay?

  “I’m worth one hundred dollars an hour.” I looked him square in the eye. “I do appreciate the need to work my way up. Eighty dollars an hour with a wage review in three months, and another in a year—annually after that—works for me. I’m reliable and punctual and professional. You can expect me to be here and playing three nights a week and to keep the music fresh. Extended hours will depend on my availability, but I’m not afraid of work. I’d just like ample notice.”

  Alarick observed me. Damn, he was doing the “hot guy hold on the glass.” Thumb and forefinger lightly resting around the brim.

  Focus.

  “Tell you what,” he said. “Sixty dollars to start. If you prove over the course of a month that your music is increasing my revenue and numbers, we’ll review your pay again then. Then every six months.”

  The deal was good, but just short of my end goal. “Sixty-five, Alarick, and you have a deal.” I brushed my hair back.

  He sucked in a breath and choked on his drink.

  “You alright, boss?” It was the female bartender from two nights ago.

  Alarick glared. “Fine, Mandy.”

  Ooh, there’s the angry lumberjack. Now he just had to explode out of his suit.

  Mandy fixed him with a shit-eating grin, eyes downcast in a demure manner no one could believe.

  “What do you say, Alarick? Let’s seal the deal.”

  Our gazes locked, and I became acutely aware my words contained a massive serving of sexual innuendo.

  Kill me now.

  “Agreed.” His tone was all mild politeness.

  I tried to conceal my inward quailing, lifting my drink to him. He took me in slowly, clinking his glass against mine.

  “Andie,” he murmured.

  Swallowing the lemon and raspberry deliciousness, I cocked a brow. “Yeah?”

  “What?”

  I frowned. “You said my name.”

  Mandy cleared her throat. “You said her name, boss. Kind of mumbled it into your Johnnie Walker.”

  Alarick cut her a furious look, and I bit back my own smile. She played coy worker well, but Mandy had the run of him. They had a brother and younger sister vibe going on.

  “I was going to ask you a question,” he said, ignoring Mandy’s wide grin. “Do you need help with anything else as you settle into the valley?”

  Some wood. I don’t have a fireplace, but I’ll watch you cut it.

  “All set, thanks.” I crossed my ankles under the stool, swinging them gently. “I’m renting a place. Everything else is pretty much sorted.”

  “Pretty much or actually sorted?”

  I shot him a look and didn’t answer.

  “You can say fuck off with just your eyes. Quite the talent.” He returned to his drink.

  My lips twitched, and I raised my cocktail, taking another drink.

  “I’ll say no more then. Drinks for workers are free, but please don’t drink during work hours. Afterward is fine. You’ll also accrue holiday and sick leave.”

  A huge and unexpected bonus. “I look forward to working here. When do I start?”

  “Is tomorrow night too soon?”

  Thinking of my sax locked up in the apartment, I said, “It’s never too soon to play music.”

  His mouth opened as he stared.

  I cleared my throat and glanced at Mandy.

  “Uh, boss? Hairy needs help at the door with something.”

  Alarick snapped his attention to her. “Hairy?

  “Hairy,” she said slowly.

  “Hairy.”

  “At the door,” she said.

  Alarick nearly fell over trying to stand. “Yes. The door. Miss Booker, Andie, have a lovely evening.”

  He straightened and met my gaze.

  Okay. I looked good tonight, sexy even, but this sculpture of a lumberjack just acted like I was the most beautiful creation in the universe.

  I nodded. “I did have one more question. You mentioned I won’t be needed on Mondays and Tuesdays. I’m assuming the same for Wednesday?”

  “We’re closed on Wednesday nights,” he said after a beat. “We play laser tag against one of the other families in town.”

  Dipping his head, Alarick left the bar. My mouth dried.

  This was the second family? The enemy family of the Thanas. Shit! No wonder Herc went quiet when I mentioned a job at The Dens.

  Groaning, I gulped at my drink, only to find it empty.

  Another appeared in front of me.

  “Sounds like you need it,” Mandy murmured.

  Did I ever.

  I passed her the empty, swiping the new drink, but another realisation smacked me between the eyes. Twisting in my seat, I scanned the four bouncers in sight, then the six bartenders—two of them male. All of them large. All muscled—the doorman, Hairy, and Dimples included. Any of them could be the bastard who pushed me into the pit.

  “I have to know what you’re thinking right now.”

  I spun back to find Mandy leaning across the bar, propped on her elbows. The platinum blonde had the coolest upper arm tattoo, a band with a wolf face centrepiece. Athletic model ripped too. I’d never pulled off the athlete look—too much boobs and ass. When I wore activewear, people assumed my destination was brunch or the mall.

  “There are a lot of big guys working here,” I replied.

  Is one of you the bastard who scared me?

  Not that I truly held a grudge. Maybe a small one… Nothing a kick in the nuts wouldn’t fix.

  She shrugged. “The Luthers tend toward the large side.”

  “Is that a family name?”

  Thanas vs. Luthers.

  She wiped the countertop. “Kind of. More like a… branch or group, I guess.”

  “And, quick question. Do all of your guys look that way?”

  “Hot? Depends what you like.”

  In my experience, the mention of alphas made people think of black leather and whips. That’s not what the attraction was for me. I referred to alpha personalities. I liked men who could match and counter my own strength. I didn’t want to walk all over someone. Others might find that attractive—but not me.

  That’s where things got difficult.

  I simultaneously needed someone who could stand up to me while not trampling my heart. In my experience, the stronger two peoples’ wills, the harder it was to strike that perfect symbiotic balance.

  I’d never found it. Then again, I wasn’t sure that flow of give and take even existed outside of movies and books.

  “I like a confident guy,” I told her. “One who knows his mind but isn’t a dick.”

  Mandy scanned the room. “Good luck finding that with any alpha in this room.”

  Ha. Unexpected response. “I’m usually into alpha guys actually.”

  My word
s appeared to amuse her. “They’re charismatic and sexy, I’ll give you that. Powerful too. But if you don’t want a player, avoid them like the plague.”

  Was Alarick a player? His compliments were genuine, but they fell from his full lips so easily. That had to be a bad sign.

  I peeked over my shoulder to where he was in deep conversation with Hairy.

  “Alarick isn’t an alpha.”

  I jerked. “Oh, not interested. I’m with someone. I was just analysing the… aesthetic of the people working here.”

  Her blue eyes sparkled. “Uh-huh.”

  I tapped a finger against the countertop. “Alarick seems pretty alpha-ish to me though.”

  Almost detached in a mysterious way, I could help but note how unobtrusively he managed his staff. And yet they all deferred to his quiet, restrained manner. Alarick never outlined the rules of working here during our talk, yet I completely understood his expectations.

  I hesitated to call his actions kind… more like calculated.

  In other words, I was thinking about him too much. Looking was free, yes, but this was going a step too far for my own moral comfort.

  Mandy leaned in. “Alarick isn’t an alpha, Andie,” she whispered so softly that I had to lean in to hear. “He’s a sigma.”

  What the heck was a sigma?

  I licked my lips. “What does that mean?”

  Her eyes slid to the door. “A lot of things. But all you need to know is that when a sigma sees something he wants, he takes it.”

  8

  Standing beside Herc, I watched Rhona inspect the apartment. She’d already visited once, but this predatory behaviour had to be the norm—Herc’s face only displayed slight sheepishness, like he’d given up trying to curb her behaviour a long time ago.

  “Not in the bags,” I said. “I told you last time.”

  She dropped the top of my suitcase, casting me a baleful look.

  Herc muttered, “Sorry about that.”

  “People who bake me blueberry muffins don’t need to be sorry.”

  The muffins were still warm and sat in a basket on the small dining table.

  He lifted a shoulder. “People tell me they’re good. I hope you like them.”

  My sweet tooth was a fearsome creature. Liking them was almost assured.

  “I’ve been meaning to say,” I stole a glance at him, “I didn’t realise the Luthers were the team you play laser tag against. I hope working for them doesn’t make things uncomfortable for you.”