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He grinned. “Your eyes, they remind me of the flower.”
“I’ve always been questioned on my eye color. My mom has average blue eyes, not sure about my dad, or why mine look more purple but maybe his did.” I shrugged.
“Would you like a drink?” Psycho offered.
“Actually, yes. I could use a margarita,” I replied, feeling shaky.
He led me to the bar and we sat at the stools. After he ordered a beer for him and a margarita for me from a prospect named Chains who worked the bar, I suppressed a shudder at the memory his name invoked, of the memories of being leashed up in that vampire house of horrors.
We sipped our drinks in relative silence for a few minutes before a female prospect I’d hung out with last night came up to us.
“Hi, Nera. I just wanted to give you a hug. You’re so fuckin’ brave, girl.”
Surprised by the affection, I hug her back. “Thanks, Charlie,” I told her when we broke apart.
She raised a finger at the bartender and he came over and took her order, three shots of tequila. I took in her two-toned purple and black hair and the tattoos on her arms and neck. She looked rough but she was seriously nice and very outgoing and talkative, I realized after spending most of the evening with her last night. She was apparently a really good bike mechanic, too. And one hundred percent human.
“You know, I had a run-in with some vamps before I joined the Wolves. In fact, they’re the reason I joined.” She smiled at me before picking up a shot and downing it. “Assholes had me cornered outside a bar called Zombies in the Quarter. By the way, don’t go in there. It’s all supes and it’s just got a weird vibe.”
“She’s not wrong,” Psycho commented, lifting the beer to his lips.
I watched with too much interest as the bottle pressed against them, and at the way his tattooed arms flexed at the motion, and had to tell myself to stop staring. Psycho was seriously sexy but I didn’t need to have these types of thoughts—I was going home soon. Maybe.
“How did you get away from the vampires?” I asked, interested in her story.
We didn’t have as much supernatural activity in west Florida as they did here in New Orleans, so I rarely met any other supes besides the few witch friends I had. Amanda didn’t know what I was, and if I had it my way, she never would. I was looking forward to calling her after this to let her know I was okay. I hesitated earlier on taking Psycho up on his offer to call her right away because I’d have to come up with a story about how I escaped and then lie to her about filling out a police report. It was no use calling the cops, the vampires would destroy them. I did vaguely glance at street names in Biloxi as I was fleeing and I needed to get those to Wizard.
Charlie shrugged. “I just screamed my head off. Trigger heard me, he was there partying.” She jutted her thumb behind her to where Chaos, Menace, and Trigger sat at a table nursing beers. “Punched the vampire’s lights out. It was awesome.”
I watched Trigger chuckle, even though his back was to us. Wolves had supersonic hearing like vamps did.
I smiled at her story, genuinely amused and proud of Charlie for not being a victim. The longer I spent with these guys, the more I knew I could trust them to bring down the bastards.
There was no way I was going to Tampa until I felt safe because I’d never felt safer than I had behind the walls of this compound. And feeling safe meant not leaving until the filthy assholes were caught and destroyed. No longer would I look the other way and bury my head in the sand and just want to run home. I was never one to let others fight my battles for me. I had to stay and fight.
Chapter 7
Dark Side of the Moon
Psycho
We spent hours at Rumble, and I enjoyed watching Nera visibly relax. It seemed she was fitting in here a lot more than I thought she would. She and Charlie were getting along and I was glad to see it. It seemed like Nera could use a friend.
After listening to her story, and trying to refrain from cracking my seat as my fists strained with rage, I saw another side of Nera. Not that I knew her that well to begin with, and she mostly came off as hard and defiant, but I got the feeling she had been somehow broken inside that house in Biloxi.
I was surprised to hear her not skip over the more degrading parts and that showed me she was as brave as ever. Not that I would have thought any less of her if she had. I probably would have myself. But knowing those details would help to bring these fuckers down.
I briefly wondered if I should call Viper again. Biloxi was only about an hour away. Was that still his jurisdiction? I wasn’t sure, but even if it wasn’t, I was sure he’d know who was in charge there. Perhaps they had no leadership at all. I’d be lying if I said I knew any other werewolves in this area besides the ones in my pack. There were a few rouges out there, and a few families who kept to themselves, but outside Louisiana, I didn’t pay much attention. This thing with Nera showed me that I probably should.
Of course my family in Minnesota were wolves, but we didn’t speak—except my mother and me—and I had no plans to go back there.
My mind drifted to my last few months there. One night in particular—the night that solidified my decision to leave—took over my mind.
I wandered down the hallway of the Hellcats MC’s clubhouse, half drunk, alight with pain, and just wanting to get to sleep. It had been a horrifically bad day. I’d been voluntold to participate in fight club, and when I refused, I’d been locked in a cage all day in nothing but my underwear and held there until the full moon. Once it was highest in the sky, the Hellcats’ leader and unfortunately my uncle, Scar, opened my cage and tossed me to the dirt floor of the warehouse, where I turned painfully and disgracefully in front of a crowd of bill-waving lunatics, wanting to see two wolves fight to the death. My opponent, a new prospect of the Hellcats, didn’t have it much better. We were told only one of us would come out alive. It was merely survival at that point.
The full moon was not only a physical transformation, but an emotional one as well. Everything was heightened, and emotions from anger, to sadness, to elation were all electrified and magnified. I didn’t want to fight this young prospect. I wanted to retreat to the lake and turn under the peace of the crickets singing and the full moon. To run around the lake until dawn blessed us with its presence and I turned back. It was what I always did. Joining the Hellcats was the worst decision of my life—not that I’d had a fucking choice.
His giant gray wolf lunged at me, and I fought back, ripping into his skin and fur with my fangs and claws as my wolf howled in joy at getting to fight. We rolled around the dirt floor of the arena, humans and whoever else screaming and hollering at witnessing such violence. I pinned the wolf to the floor, but he quickly flipped me over and took a chunk out of my hind leg. I yowled in agony and then he raked his claws down my back and over my snout. I mustered up enough energy to roll over, immediately hopping out of the way before he could attack again. When he lunged at me, I was on the defense, immediately scraping my claws deeply down his chest. He went down with a yip and a thud, blood pouring from his wounds. He wouldn’t heal fast enough to live from that wound. My wolf howled in triumph, while the human side of me that was barely hanging on, cried in grief. A scream of anguish caught my attention and I whipped my head over to the crowd to see a pale, redhaired woman holding a swaddled baby and screaming for her mate. For the man I’d just almost killed. For the father of her young pup.
