Page 4 of Hexy Beast

She flashes a wide, welcoming smile at me that sets off all my internal alarm bells at once.

“Well, if it isn’t Witchingdom’s resident bad boy alpha werewolf here to help little ol’ me out in a pinch,” she says, her voice warm and sultry.

Nope, I’m not gonna be even the least bit tempted by all that promised honey. I’m big, but that doesn’t mean I’m dumb. And the fact that she knows who I am? The Aetos pack is infamous in Witchingdom, so really it comes with the territory, so it doesn’t mean anything.

“I’m not here for you,” I tell her.

“Wooooo­ooooo­w.” She draws the single-syllable word out in a way that’s like sandpaper against my more economical way of talking. “That’s quite the way to make a girl feel special.”

She’s taunting me. I know it. I shouldn’t feed into it. I should just ignore her and drive around her, deeper into the forest.

Instead, I put a little extra growl in my voice and say, “Get out of the way.”

Her freckle-covered cheeks turn pink, her hand goes to the deep V of her dark blue sweater, and she toys with the edge, drawing my attention to her tits (as if I need the help), before she says with a flirtatious wink, “You’ll have to make me.”

Who in the fuck would fall for that one?

Me, it turns out.

I knock the kickstand of my bike down and get off, straightening to my full height of six feet seven inches. I plant my black motorcycle boots firmly on the forest floor and cross my arms over my plain black T-shirt before giving her the kind of don’t-fuck-with-me look that makes people cross the street when they see me walking toward them. The stance also emphasizes just how solid I am. I’m not exaggerating when I say I could take a hit from a Mack truck and walk away without a limp. No, I’m not showing off for her. I’m giving her a chance to reconsider her life choices. It’s a mercy, a kindness…Fine, it’s an ego boost when I see that flash of desire in her eyes.

“You don’t even reach my shoulders,” I say as I walk toward her. “Moving you is not gonna be hard.”

She bats her eyelashes at me as if we’re flirting and not getting ready to throw down. “Haven’t you ever heard that powerful witches come in small packages?”

“So your sister Leona is even smaller than you are?” Low blow considering it’s gotta scrape her ass that she’s the oldest but wasn’t picked to be her family’s magical heir? Yes, but I’m not here to make things nice for a family of witches. I’m here to steal that stupid spell book.

“Ouch,” she says with a little gasp as if she’s hurt, but there’s a sparkle in her eyes that promises she’s having fun. “You really hurt my feelings with that one. I just might cry.”

“I doubt it,” I scoff as I come to a stop right in front of her.

She lets out a soft chuckle that actually sounds genuine. “Why, you just see right through me, don’t you, Wolfie?”

She doesn’t seem the least worried that I might literally eat her for dinner.

Most people are. They look at me and see a big-as-fuck, tatted-up biker and get a worried look in their eyes. Then they notice what kind of tattoos I have and that my eyes have a very un-humanlike amber hue to them. Then there’s the fact that if I shave at dawn, I have a five-o’clock shadow at nine in the morning, which is why I’ve had a short scruff of a beard since I was thirteen. That’s when they go from oh-shit to moving away as fast as possible.

But this little witch is different.

Lucky fucking me. Really, is it too much to ask that a plan not get fucked up for once?

To make things even worse, my inner wolf perks up and cocks his head. He’s interested in Effie, which is never a good sign. I shove him back down so he can’t make trouble.

Controlling your inner wolf is one of the benefits of being an alpha. I don’t need a full moon to shift into my wolf form, nor do I have to shift all the way. You’d think that would mean I barely notice my wolf side. You’d be wrong. My inner wolf prowls around inside me like a tangible being, offering his opinions, stirring up shit, and trying to get me to stop taking things so seriously. I ignore him as much as possible. It’s the only way I can maintain focus on my plan to save my pack. Let the wolf loose?

Abso-fucking-lutely not.

There’s not an inch of Effie that doesn’t fit in my shadow, but it still feels like she’s about to break out of its confines at any moment. The woman is always in motion, even when she’s standing still. Fucking fascinating. Also? Totally not the point right now.

“Move aside, witch.”

“You obviously know my name since you know who my sister is.” She leans forward and does a walking-with-her-fingers-up-the-center-of-my-chest thing, setting off a whole trail of fuck-me-yes in its wake. “Why don’t you use it?”

I grab her wrist, encircling the tiny thing in my much larger hands, careful not to hold on too tight, and yank her hand away from my chest before I go and do something stupid like start to enjoy her touch. “Because we’re not going to know each other long enough for it to matter.”

“That part’s true”—she slips her hand free—“but not the way you think.”

The scent of honeysuckles fills the air, and the wolf inside me perks up again. He raises his snout and inhales in a long, deep sniff before getting up, doing a big stretch, and then starting to pace.