Bridgette paused, filling a tray with cupcakes to place out front.
“Are shifters really that good? You still haven’t told me.”
Olivia squirmed. “I don’t know if it’s instinct or what, but well,” she paused. “It really was the best sex I’ve ever had. It beat out my imagination. He ruined me for every other man out there.” That thought sucked. What if he didn’t come to her? Heck with that. She’d hunt him down. Deep within her a growing need to find him boiled. It’s as if she’d been a shell and he was the catalyst to her soul.
“Stop fantasizing while I’m standing here. I'm taking these damn pink cupcakes and hiding them,” Bridgette said.
They both laughed.
“Alright. Hold that thought. Cupcakes in the case. Then you are spilling the beans. I can’t believe you. Sex in an alley and suddenly your magic is amazing. Maybe you’re part succubus or something?” said Bridgette.
Olivia paused, brow furrowed. “I doubt that. My mother would have said something, she hates my dad right now anyway. She really would have said something.”
With a knowing look, Bridgette headed out front, Olivia trailing after.
The clean gray and lilac of the storefront welcomed them. Olivia breathed in and realized she could catch new scents, not just the cake batter and frosting that surrounded her all day.
The fresh paint smell still lingered. This was her bakery now, and she’d finally claimed it. A tingle of satisfaction ran up her. She’d claimed it. That felt right. This was her territory, and no one was going to take it.
“These cupcakes need special names. I’m going to take one for the team and try each and everyone one. I’ll have names printed and out here shortly. Oh, and seriously, keep the pink ones for adults only. You might want to make something for the kids.”
Olivia shook her head. She was okay. No, she was better than okay. This was a whole new her. How in the heck had she not had sex in an alley before? If that’s all she needed to awaken the magic in her. No one ever said sex could be the key.
Humming to herself she gently placed each flavor into rows like happy little children lining up for school.
The front door dinged, and she stood up.
Out of habit, she greeted the customers. “Welcome. How can I help you today?” Taken aback, she took a step towards the register.
She scanned each guy, floor to ceiling. Not her standard clients for sure. She sucked in the air identifying them as shifters by scent before her brain caught up with what she’d just done.
“You all seem familiar. Have we met?” she asked.
They glanced at each other before one approached, the largest of the group.
“No. We haven’t. And that would be why we are here.”
Okay.
“Sure. Wait what?”
“My mother mentioned that our brother had finally found his mate and needed a little help.” He leaned over the counter, his eyes flashing between gold and human brown. She didn’t back away instead, she reared up in an attempt to make her five-foot-five inches more than they were.
“I have no idea what you are talking about, but if you want a cupcake, we have all new flavors.”
He didn’t turn away. “I don’t think our Alpha needs any help. His scent is all over you. We followed the scent from the firehouse. He wouldn't tell us who you were, and we can’t figure out why.”
“I’m Brody. Guess we should get introductions out of the way.”
Why do I care?
“Okay. You seem nice Brody, but I have no idea what the heck you are talking about. Smell like what? I smell like a damn cupcake. Again, if you want one I am happy to give out samples. I hear the pink ones have quite the kick.”
Another one of the guys stepped forward.
Big. They were all big, like Ethan.
Slow and steady, her brain worked the pieces.
“I’m Wes. We’re Ethan’s brothers, part of his pack. And you have a very odd way of greeting your pack. Making us come to you.”
“I’m sorry. What?” A soft, sticky substance squished in her hand before she realized she’d crushed one of her new creations.
“Uh oh,” said one of the others from the back.
“What’s your name? Mom didn’t say,” Wes asked.
She ground her molars. “Olivia. Who is mom and why does she care? What the hell do you mean by my pack?”
They all froze. “Can I see your shoulder?”
She cocked her head. “That’s a really odd question.” Pulling aside the neck of her simple yellow cotton tee, she let the shifter see.
His eyes grew wider as they flicked from her shoulder to her face and back again.
“You really have no idea?” asked the one who called himself Brody.
Alarm bells went off as she watched their eyes go to her shoulder. It had been a bruise, a little-puckered skin, but a bruise nonetheless. She still couldn’t recall what the hell it was from exactly. That all being said, she slowly turned her head away from the linebackers in front of her.
The bruising nearly healed, a new light pink crescent was visible. Her eyes followed the circle, her index finger reaching out from her opposite hand as the other kept her shirt pulled away.
“What does that even mean?”
Wes nudged Brody. “Well, that is a mark. Shifters have to bite their mates while at the height of mating. Sex. It’s the way we bind ourselves to our mates.”
“What!” she shouted.
The men all backed up.
“Get it off. I am not anyone’s mate! I am a witch. I'm supposed to marry a warlock.”
A few chuckles pissed her off further.
“What’s so damn funny?”
Wes chocked down his humor. “You can’t get it off. It’s for life. And it's rare to have non-shifters, but it’s happened. We figured you knew. Unless our brother is that shitty in bed.”
Cupcake smeared
