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Chapter One
She was gonna be trouble, Ronan Kelly decided as he watched the green-eyed little thing over at the pool table. When she'd come in a few minutes ago, he figured she'd take one look around and then walk right back out. Instead, she'd sashayed up to the bar pretty as you please and ordered bourbon with a beer chaser.
No one in this shitty little dive bar was used to seeing anyone who looked like that in here. Most of the women that graced the bar were usually looking for a quick lay. They weren't the kind of women you'd take home to your momma, let alone stay the night with. He was pretty sure that the women's bathroom had seen more than its share of sexual encounters. He turned a blind eye and didn't ask questions. Kelly's was the kind of place where nobody asked any questions.
Right now, she was kicking Sarge's ass, if his eyes didn't deceive him. And being part wolf, they never did. This little slip of nothin' was running the damn table on him. Sarge wasn't the type of guy you wanted to fuck with either. Hell, there wasn't anyone she'd wanna fuck with here tonight.
A quick glance around the bar confirmed that it was almost exclusively filled with shifters. She probably had no idea that the man she was currently destroying at the pool table was a giant bear that could tear her apart if need be. Granted, it wasn't exactly a common practice, but that didn't matter. When the alcohol flowed and tempers flared, it was harder to keep the beast at bay.
Sarge was half a bottle in and he looked like he was building up a good head of steam. The last thing Ronan wanted was to get involved in a dispute over a pool game, but he also didn't need any goddamned dead bodies in his bar either. Disgusted, he threw the towel down on the bar and wandered back to the pool table.
As Little Miss was scooping the twenties off the felt with a satisfied grin, Sarge snarled, “You little bitch! You conned me!”
One of the other men he didn't know spoke up. Mimicking her southern belle drawl, he said, “I wanna play. I've done it a couple of times. You boys'll be gentle, won't ya?”
“Well, ya'll wouldn't have played with me if I told you I was gonna kick your asses, would ya? The way I see it, you were either lookin' to take my money or to get in my panties. Don't get all pissy with me just 'cause neither of those things is gonna happen.”
Ronan had to bite back a grin at the wink she'd given them both. This poor girl must have a death wish. He'd give her this, though. She had some brass balls under that tiny little skirt of hers. He finally stepped forward when Sarge started to move toward her.
“Sarge,” Ronan said, interrupting. “She beat ya fair and square. Let it go, brother. Have another drink on the house. Have Ty set you up.”
When Sarge turned to look at him, he was angry but resigned. Instead of saying anything further, he slammed his pool cue down on the baize and muttered as he walked toward the bar.
Ronan took one look at the growing crowd and said, “Alright, boys, nothing to see here.”
As the crowd started to disperse, he said, “Not so fast, cupcake.”
Her face screamed “fuck you,” but she only asked, “Cupcake?”
“Well, princess,” he said, correcting himself with a smirk, “I don't know what your name is, but I know that you don't belong here. You need to get your sweet little ass outta my bar before you get hurt. That man you just conned is not the type of person you wanna fuck with.”
The attitude suddenly disappeared from her face. Something close to desperation took its place. “I'm just looking to have a good time,” she said. “I won't cause any trouble.”
“You already have. Consider your tab closed, cupcake, and get out of my bar!”
“What the fuck, man?” she asked. “I didn't do anything. He got all pissy that I conned him out of twenty bucks, but he was gonna do the same thing to me. I don't see what the big deal is!”
Ronan rubbed a hand over his face and said, “You've got no idea what you're dealing with. Don't make me physically remove you from my bar. I'll do it.”
She glared, but didn't move an inch. He stepped forward to put his hands on her shoulders and steer her gently out the door. That's when she reached out and raked her nails across his cheek.
“Don't fucking touch me,” she yelled, struggling against him.
He let her go with a hiss and brought his hand to his face. When he pulled away bloody fingers, his wolf snarled and yanked against the chains inside. Pulling in a deep, calming breath, he fought against his incredibly visceral need to shift. Ronan wasn't used to being challenged. Not by a little tiny thing like this. Especially not in front of all these damn people.
He reached forward and wrapped an arm around the waist, scooping her up off her feet. This time, he was prepared. He trapped her arms against her body. She screamed and he grabbed her hair, stilling her head. He whispered against her ear, his voice eerily quiet, “Calm the fuck down. You and I are going into the back to have a chat, miss thing. So long as you don't scratch me again, I won't resort to violence. You didn't think that I was going to let you come into my bar, stir things up, and then fucking assault me, did you?”
She stilled instantly. Maybe she finally understood the gravity of the situation because she didn't move a muscle as he walked them toward the back.
“Ty,” he called. “You got the bar. This may be a while.”
The patrons all hooted and hollered, obviously thinking the worst. He wasn't going to dissuade them either. At the very least, he had a reputation to maintain. Letting this tiny little thing scratch him up like that in public was unacceptable and she was about to find that out.
Chapter Two
When he finally dragged her through the swinging door into what she assumed was his office, Moira Devereaux was more than a little freaked out. He tossed her haplessly down on the couch and then slammed the door shut behind them with a growl.
She looked at his face and felt the first inklings of shame creep in along with the fear. She really hadn't meant to scratch the guy. It had been instinctive. The asshole shouldn't have touched her. She'd been maneuvered and manhandled more than enough for one lifetime. There would be no more of that. She wasn't anyone's goddamned victim.
“So, you wanna tell me who the fuck you are and why you felt the need to scratch me?”
“Moira Devereaux,” she said, her voice a little shaky. “It was a knee-jerk reaction. I'm sorry. I-I didn't mean to scratch you.”
“Well, Moira Devereaux,” he drawled, “if you knew the kind of instincts you riled in me, you'd be more than scared. What the hell are you even doing in my bar? All the frat boys hang out at The Lobo in town.”
Even though she could see the anger he barely kept in check, she waved him off. “I wasn't exactly looking to get laid, but th
anks for the tip.”
“So what is that you're doing in my bar? These ain't exactly your kinda folks, sweetheart,” he warned.
“Simmer down. I know what you are. That's the only reason that I came here,” she explained.
Before she could even blink, he was out of his chair and had her hair in a punishing grip once more. “Come again?”
She cried out at the initial shock, but then the pain radiated out in pleasurable waves. Closing her eyes, she tried to calm herself. She ignored the sudden ache between her thighs and tried to refocus her thoughts on his question. Her voice shaky, she said, “I know what you are.”
“Open your fucking eyes and tell me! What exactly is it that you think I am?”
Her eyes flew open at the command and locked onto his. He was beautiful. And also dangerous. His blond shaggy hair and cool blue eyes were hard to ignore. The arms that had been tightly banded around her were clearly muscular.
She willed her frayed nerves to settle. “Part man, part wolf. One of those werewolves or whatever. I don't know what you people call yourselves,” she explained with more bravado than she actually felt.
His eyes practically glowed an eerie blueish-silver. Unless she missed her guess, that meant he was pretty pissed off. “A shifter. Not that it's the best kept secret in the world, but how exactly do you know that?”
“My father is the mayor of Lorelei. He told me what you were and then told me to stay away from you. By the way, what do I call you? Wolfman?”
He jerked her hair back again, eliciting another whimper from her, and then said, “I'm Ronan. Ronan Kelly. And tell me, what exactly were you planning to do with all this information your daddy gave you?”
