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Meeting with Hawk was pretty intimidating. The dude was seriously paranoid, talking about the pigs being on his ass, and I hadn’t lasted even a day after they fed me cold pizza and let me take a lukewarm shower in their “gym” locker room, if you could call it that. None of them really looked like they spent much time there.
Unlike Psycho. This man speeding me down the highway on the back of his bike smelled amazing and was all muscle. I resisted the urge to run my hands up and down his chiseled abs as my hands gripped him underneath his vest on the outside of his white tee. I was seriously attracted to him, and by the look in his bottomless brown eyes as he stared at me on the edge of that lake, he was into me too.
Seemed too soon, but the attraction was undeniable.
How could I fall for a werewolf? My family would laugh me right out Tampa if they knew. Was I falling for Psycho—Shep? I wasn’t sure. I just knew this attraction was insane.
My mind drifted to the bastard and what he’d done to me. He was the only one in that house to take advantage of me in that way. The other girls said it was him as well. None of the other ones touched us. My eyes welled up and the wind wiped them quickly away. I hated feeling so broken and weak inside, and figured I’d need to talk to someone eventually. I just found it easier to push the thoughts away and tell myself he was just an undead monster taking advantage of those weaker than him, and that one day, he would get what was coming to him.
As I gripped Psycho’s midsection, I hoped he never asked me to go into details about what the bastard had done. Because I would never speak it aloud again.
I was surprised when, only after a few minutes, he took an exit and we slowly rode through downtown streets of New Orleans until we reached a random parking lot on Canal Street. The night fully ruled now, and the streets were bustling with people. I’d never been to New Orleans, but I guessed I’d be checking it off my bucket list now. Excitement swirled in my stomach. The lights, the sounds, the smells, it all distracted me from the horrors of the past few weeks I’d been struggling to leave behind. I felt safe with Shep and knew nothing would harm me.
We dismounted the bike, he paid for parking at a machine, and we walked hand-in-hand down the busy streets. I marveled at the large white church in the center of Jackson Square, its spire reaching into the night sky.
“Are you hungry?” Shep asked.
“You are always trying to feed me,” I joked. “Am I too skinny or something?”
He narrowed his eyes and frowned. “Yes, you are.”
“I obviously haven’t stepped foot on a scale but I’ve for sure dropped some pounds. Only eating once a day and the stress of being held captive will do that to a person.”
He let out a growl that surprised even me. “Food first, then let’s get you some new clothes. And see if we can find a cell phone store.”
I surely wasn’t going to turn any of that down. Food, clothes, a phone. That was all I needed in this moment. And the comfort and safety of this man who oozed masculinity and strength. I sometimes forgot he was a supernatural creature who turned into a beast under the full moon. I’d have to ask him about that one of these days. I wasn’t sure I wanted to watch. I’d heard enough horror stories from my witch family and wasn’t in a hurry to witness it. Plus, it was obviously dangerous.
We discovered there were no cell phone stores that were open, but we found a few boutiques. The clothes weren’t really my style, but I did get a couple of pairs of pants. I opted for the tourist stores to get some tees and shorts. Most of them had New Orleans written on them, but I didn’t give a shit.
Once that was done, we found a fabulous place for seafood and I sighed in happiness after we ate. I had a drink called a Hurricane and I was fairly sure there was more alcohol than mixer in the damn thing. My head felt woozy and I had to tell myself to keep my mouth shut before the alcohol created loose lips. I really liked Shep but I remained very guarded.
“Want to take a walk down Bourbon Street?” he asked. Then he looked at my feet. “Take off those sandals and put on the sneakers.” He pointed to the bag of stuff we bought—he bought. “You don’t want to walk around in open-toed shoes on Bourbon.”
I looked down. “Why not? I don’t know where you got these, but they’re comfortable.” I mean, they were ugly as hell, Birkenstock-type sandals, but I had no complaints.
“Just trust me.”
I shrugged and sat down on a bench, changing out of the sandals and into the sneakers. With shorts, a tee, and a hoodie tied around my waist, we headed toward Bourbon. I was sure the thick black shit-kickers with the chains on them Shep wore would fare just fine.
He held my hand as we passed by street performers and shops. Bars were lit with bright, colorful lights and loud music. A man with a large yellow snake stood in the middle of the street offering photos and petting sessions with the snake. I made a wide berth around him. I fucking hated snakes.
Psycho chuckled. “Not a fan?”
I shook my head. “Absolutely not.”
“I’ve killed a few. Mostly as the wolf, but we tend to stay away. Some of the snakes around here are deadly. I think that’s a python but it’s obviously someone’s pet.”
I shuddered. “Gah. Who keeps snakes as pets?”
He wrapped his arm around my shoulder and pulled me close. “Crazy people.” He looked down at me as we walked. “Do you have any pets at home?”
I grinned up at him. “I’m a witch. We have cats. Lots of them. Duh.”
He chuckled. “Obviously.”
We continued to walk, my head feeling dizzy from the Hurricane—which I only drank about a third of before I tossed it out—but I felt happy. Relaxed. Something I hadn’t felt in weeks.
I suddenly felt guilty when I remembered I hadn’t called Amanda or my family to let them know I was okay. It was after 10 p.m. in Tampa, and I had no idea what time zone Amanda was in, so I justified that a call tomorrow would be okay. Still, I worried my lip anyway.
