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If I can get anyone to talk to me.
If I don’t screw up and get hauled out by my half-changed furry backside.
My lack of ability to change completely was something of a legend in my family’s social circle. Not so fondly considered the Neville Longbottom of the shifter world, I could get furry—or freaky—and that was about my limit. Which meant that I was shunted off to the human side of Melbourne with my parents’ silent hope of breeding the fur out of me hanging over my head.
No wallaby paws, no cute-as-a-button twitching nose. No tail, claws, or bouncing habits, apart from my own nerves. All I managed to achieve was a light coating of soft gray fur that denoted me neither shifter nor human and left me in no-shifter’s-land stuck somewhere between the two.
Totally not an acceptable position.
So I worked my butt off for a job in the human way, interning with my regular newspaper of the traditional variety, rather than working on an underground column in my own community.
Mine didn’t want me, and I was pretty sure the skin walkers would consider me frightening as fuck if they witnessed my ability to transform, or lack thereof.
Clutching my glossy purple purse that held my recorder and a few notepads, as well as my matching lipstick, I finally made my way to the door and gave the tall bouncer my best, happiest smile. “Merry Christmas, Sir.”
Dark eyes narrowed at me. I took in the silver-streaked hair and the three-piece suit complete with a red and black embroidered waistcoat featuring little Santa hats and reindeersporting red noses. His dress screamed wealth and class and dominance, but I didn’t recognize the face that went with it. This wasn’t Rafe Astor. But the attitude said he had to be part of the in-house upper-floor hierarchy.
Uh-oh. Not my smartest move.
Unless the dude—okay, the big dude—had a daddy kink I could work with.
“A pretty little mouth like that could get you into a shit ton of trouble here, kid. Are you even of age?”
I raised an eyebrow at the man’s attitude.Is this what passes as manners here?Fray was getting the write-up of a lifetime if I could pull it off. Word was Rafe Astor would do anything to protect his little corner of the community, a threat I was willing to risk to earn my extra credits for my final semester prior to graduation. “Yes, I turned nineteen last week.”
He took the card I offered, turning the plastic over and scraping it with his thumbnail as he held my gaze.
Waiting had never been my strong suit. I stared back until the silver fox nodded, showing his evident reluctance as he caught my elbow and escorted me inside the club.
Maybe the daddy kink had been right on the money? With taste in waistcoats like his, I didn’t doubt my guess for a half second. Darkness filled every space, and the deep thrum of heavy bass slammed me with echoes in the darkened void where I stood stuck between two worlds yet again.
A clipboard was stuffed unceremoniously into my hands, and a pen rolled across it. I caught the damn thing in clumsy fingers that only partially worked and glared upward. “I don’t want to become a member.” No, tonight was strictly a one-appearance-only type event.
The tall bouncer offered a mirthless grin, showing a whole lotta teeth. “If you want in the door tonight, little fluff ball, then you fill in the form. Tell us all the things you do and don’twant to do, leave your name at the bottom, and you get a pretty bracelet for your efforts.” The big guy dangled a lurid pink and utterly tacky wristband before my eyes.
I huffed out a breath and peered at the form, barely able to make it out without my glasses, but those only offered a hindrance and were decidedly unsexy and very geek-worthy all at once. The choice to forget them had seemed simple, but now maybe not so much.
I squinted at the form in the impending darkness that grew heavier with every passing second.
Behind me, the bouncer swore not so softly. A bright light illuminated the sheet, leaving me in no doubt about what sort of party tonight’s would be.
Impact Play
Breath Play
CNC
Flogging
Kidnapping
Bondage
The list went on, running through terms I wanted to Google but couldn’t. I blinked at the bright light, barely able to write my own name at the top of the paper.
Bouncer dude clucked his tongue. “Hurry up, kid. There’s a line around the block. I don’t have time to hold a torch for your squinty-eyed ass.”
I ticked my gender and ticked three boxes in quick succession that I hoped wouldn’t get me into too much trouble, not really watching what I was doing, intent on giving back as good as I got. “And here I thought you bent over and the sun shone out of your—”
