Page 11 of Bewitching the Wolf

Even when my own father got sick and died of lung cancer, I couldn’t break the habit.

Smoking was the one thing I could depend on to ease the loneliness, the overwhelming sadness of losing Mom. And when I was programmed, it made the numbness of being Peripheral 101 bearable. I’ve recently swapped it for vaping, due to Tippy’s determination to cure me with her vile-tasting potions.

But give up vaping?

Fuck, that’s a hard ask.

I must have turned pale, because Traggar leans forward, picks the vape out of the bin and hands it back.

I hesitate. Then I grab it from him and shove it into the pocket of my jeans.

Traggar’s eyes are steely. “Your wolf is allergic to nicotine. It disempowers it, fractures its energy.”

“Too fucking bad. I smoked long before it arrived on the scene.”

“Yes, you did. But you’re a werewolf now. And a Trojan. We don’t use substances.” Traggar’s eyes bore into mine. “Your wolf is extremely unsettled. I sense it’s not just the vaping. What else is going on?”

“Nothing.” I shrug, look away. My fingers roll over thin air and my lips purse, wanting to suck on the vape. No way will I take it out of my pocket in front of Traggar.

Traggar frowns. “Bickering with your wolf. Weakening its powers with nicotine. We have to resolve this before we can send you up to Sparkle. It’s a problem, Jax.”

I stay silent. So does my wolf. But we both know what the problem is.

My feelings for Tippy.

But how can I tell Traggar that, when wolves and wixens don’t see eye to eye?

‘You need to quit vaping, Jax. Immediately.”

“I’ll sort it,” I say briskly, getting to my feet and heading for the door.

Traggar’s words follow me. “If you’re still vaping by our next session, we’ll have to resort to stronger measures.”

I don’t wait to hear what other measures Traggar has in mind. I’ve had enough for one day. I yank open the door and head out.

“Piece of cake,” I throw over my shoulder.

You’ve got no fucking chance, my wolf sneers.

CHAPTER 4

TIPPY

“Hey, babe, ready when you are.” Larry winks at me. I gawk at him blankly over the counter as his eyebrows waggle up and down over his broad nose. “Surely you haven’t forgotten our date tonight?”

Shit!

“Oh, um, of course.” I grimace down at my apron. “I’m hardly dressed to go out, though.”

It’s three days since Larry asked me on this date, and I’ve been too preoccupied, hoping Jax will contact me, to recall what day I agreed to go. Seems it’s tonight.

The centaur leans a huge arm on the counter, and I notice he’s particularly well-groomed. He’s wearing a smart shirt, unbuttoned, and a thick gold chain is nestled in his chest hairs. His mane has been expertly styled.

“You’ll do just fine.” He smirks, then adds huskily, “Even in a sack, you’d look gorgeous.”

I give a feeble laugh.

Larry is a nice guy. He’d probably be top of the list for some. He’s got a great mane and tail. Strong teeth—if a little on the yellow side. Nice eyes. So what’s wrong with me? I mean, why would I go for the lean and hungry look when a beefcake like Larry is on the menu?