Bren regards me as is if he doesn’t recognize me. “You threw him out the window?”
“Yes?” I say.
Bren leans in and smiles with enough warmth to melt the ice cubes in my glass. The annoyance darkening his features skitters away, leaving only the wolf I know and adore.
“That’s my girl,” he says, skimming his rough knuckles against my cheek.
A tease of heat flickers along my skin with Bren’s caress, stirring desire and invigorating my tormented spirit. I welcome the ardor like my next breath, claiming it and permitting it to lick the scars marring my damaged soul.
Bren stops, his eyes widening as if he’s committing the most heinous sin. Pain, anger, greed, and rapture—every emotion akin to grief warring along his features.
“Bren,” I whisper, sensing him pull away.
He doesn’t want me. He’s withdrawing, abandoning me and my touch, just as he’s done before.
But then, he doesn’t, returning like an unbridled storm.
Bren hooks his arm around my neck and pulls me to him.
He kisses me, savagely, his tongue probing and dominating.
This time, it’s not an accident.
This time, we both mean it.
This time, the world vanishes, and Bren and I become one.
Chapter Five
Bren
I wrench myself off Emme. It takes some doing, the cement or whatever invisible glue is pinning me to her making it damn near impossible.
My back smacks against a row of bottles, tipping some over and knocking even more to the floor. My heart is making mincemeat out of my chest. I’m having the big one, I know I am.
What the fuck?
What the actual fuck?
Emme is sweating and panting, her face so red she’s a hard second away from passing out.
“Hey,” I say, like an absolute moron.
She makes a noise. I think. A word mixed with a sound. Aside from that, she keeps quiet, keeps breathing, keeps sweating.
Shit. I think I killed her with my hotness.
Damn my sexiness to hell.
Seriously, why did I do that? Why did I kiss her?
Because you’ve wanted to for a long time now, asshole.
“Yo, dude.” A werewolf in a houndstooth jacket motions me over. Who the hell wears houndstooth to the Hole? He plannin’ on going pheasant hunting up in this bitch?
I point to him but speak to Emme. “I’ll be right back, okay?”
“Unt,” she says. Or something like that.
Aw, hell. I hope she’s still alive when I get back.
My feet feel heavy. I have to practically lift them with my arms. I stop when I see the wolf is accompanied by three more weres. All newbies, all dressed like they’re on their way to Coachella or whatever the fuck.
“What do you want?” I ask.
“Witch’s Brew,” the wolf who called me over says. He exchanges glances with his pals. “Word on the street says you got some.”
“Word on the street?” I ask, looking at them like they deserve to be looked at. “You mean the mean streets of Tahoe?”
“Ya,” he says.
Whatever. I have to get back to Emme. “Sure. Whatever. It’s a hundred a bottle. How many do you want?”
Again, they look at each other. For weres, none of these idiots feel dominant. They’re more like betas or omegas, sure to be mowed over by the seasoned weres in Aric’s pack.
“Why so much?” the weremongoose in the orange T-shirt polo asks.
I roll my eyes. “Cause it’s witch’s brew, dumbass. One bottle is all it takes. Do you want to pour human beer down your throat all night and still not get a buzz?”
“Uh, no?”
“Then one hundred for one bottle, bro,” I tell him. I take another look at him. He’s not really the “bro” type. More like the second cousin twice removed who likes to eat sand when no one’s looking.
A smaller wolf eases forward. “You don’t understand. We’re part of the pack,” he says. “Your pack.” He points to the first guy. “And he’s a pureblood, one of the last few left.”
I grin. “Pureblood, huh?” I ask. They nod, expecting me to bow or some shit. I lose my smile. “Then he can afford it.”
When they just stare, I push off the bar and throw my hands up in surrender. “If you can’t handle the brew or the price, I can whip you boys up some Shirley Temples on the house. After all, you are pack.”
The so-called pureblood sighs and whips out his card. “We’ll take four,” he mumbles.
I take the card and print out the receipt. “Don’t forget to leave a tip,” I say, giving him a wink.
Before lowering to the floor to unlock the brew safe, I steal a glance at Emme. Her face is still flushed but better. I’m no longer worried she’ll keel over from all the manly, male hormones I hit her with when I kissed her.
What the hell’s wrong with me? I kissed Emme. Emme.
Maybe it’s been too long since I got some. Wait, didn’t I just bang Sally a few weeks ago? Or was it Jennifer? It couldn’t have been that good if I can’t remember her name. Maybe that’s my problem. I barely have sex anymore, and when I do, it’s all about what I can do for them. Word spreads quick when you’re hung like a bear instead of a wolf.
The spell the witches cast over the safe takes a moment to recognize me before it clicks open.
“Yo, dude,” Houndstooth guy says. “How you coming along with all those brewskies? Your boys are thirsty.”
I sigh. I should punch him in the face just for just saying “brewskies.” Instead, I take the higher road. “You want the beers?” I ask.
“Yeah,” they all say.
“Then shut up,” I snap.
See? I can keep it classy.
I reach for the first beer. It glows when I touch it. I don’t want the damn bottle to explode in my face and give it a second for it to allow me to take it. That’s right, “allow.” The witches
