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Davian, our brother, came running towards us and lifted me in a huge bear hug. He squeezed me tight and fuck, I felt like crying. I was so happy to see him. I felt Erryn embrace me on the other side. She smelled like fur and gun oil, as always, and I snorted a laugh through my tears.
“Good to have you home, little Wolf,” she murmured and kissed my head.
“More shots!” Sybil yelled and came back with two more for them.
“Okay, we down them in one, two, three—Happy birthday!” she shouted, lifting her shot into the air.
Davian, Erryn, Nova, and I did the same. We clinked glasses and everyone cheered as we tossed them back. I still didn’t know why the fuck all those people were gathered to celebrate our birthday in a huge fucking tent outside our childhood home, but for a moment there, it seemed totally normal.
People came over, clapping hands on our shoulders and wishing us well. There was a live band playing some country cross over and I giggled as a big, lumberjack looking fucker took Nova’s hand and asked her to dance. She looked horrified, but Sybil double-dog dared her, and off she went.
I laughed and shook my head when Davi tried to drag me onto the makeshift dance floor. The party was jumping. I recognized dozens of people from town. Mostly Wolves, and my chest felt tight again. The Wolf whined, but I shushed her, quieting my beast was just second nature. Chills ran through me, and I felt slightly nauseous.
Shit. I hadn’t told them yet that there was something wrong with me. Later. I’d get to it later. My gaze drifted over the crowd, landing on a pair of gorgeous hazel eyes. Shit. It was him. Mitch raised his longneck in some sort of a salute, and I offered him a two-fingered wave. I tugged on the bottom of my sweater, crossing my arms when he started to amble towards me.
Shit. What did one say to a guy who stole a kiss then left immediately after like he was on fire? And he wasn’t. I checked. Besides, my magic was not exactly reliable these days. I suspected my fire had gone out, and to someone with my kind of Witch blood, that was not good. Like at all.
But I had no time to ponder that with Mitch Truman headed my way. He did one of those long-legged slow walks guaranteed to make the girls turn their heads, and quite a few did. I didn’t even realize I was growling until I saw his eyes widen and that panty-melting grin of his spread across his face the closer he got.
“Hey, you,” he said, clicking his bottle to my empty shot glass.
I’d taken four already, and that was pretty much my party limit. Shifters had supernaturally enhanced metabolism, but I was only half Wolf and that meant liquor hit me almost the same as it did normals. Four shots and I was happily buzzed, but not drunk. I didn’t like to be drunk.
Losing control had never been allowed when we were younger. Keeping a leash on my emotions and behavior had become second nature. It was ingrained in my very soul. Right then, I very much needed to stay in control.
There was something about Mitch Truman that reminded me of a caged beast. An untamed, wild thing. And if he was set free, well, I worried what he might do. Pounce on me, perhaps?
Yes, please.
I rolled my eyes at the predictable bitch my Wolf was being.He was so damn good looking, it should be illegal. Tall, dark, tempting. Dangerous, I should have led with dangerous. He was sensuously enticing, but I hadn’t even ended my non-relationship with Phil yet. Shifters moved fast, but I was not ready to go there with anyone.
“Are you having a good time?”
“Yeah. why? Don’t I look like I am?” I asked mildly insulted.
He raised his eyebrows, and I wondered what I did to bring about that expression. Then I realized I was just being myself again. Defensive and antagonistic to hear some tell it.
“You look a little pissed off, actually,” he said, and once more, I was taken aback by his bluntness.
“You know, there’s this whole thing people do. It’s called being polite and not pointing out the faults of others,” I mumbled, angry, but not quite sure if it was at him or myself.
“Yah, but that’s a rule for normals, sweetheart. We aren’t that,” he replied, clinking his bottle to my empty glass again before taking another long pull.
Dear God, how could a man guzzling a beer look so fucking hot? I had no idea. But there was just something about the way his lips curled around the bottle and his throat worked as he swallowed that had me quivering in places I didn’t even know could quiver.
“Just so you know, I kind of have a boyfriend.”
“Kind of?”
“Actually, I made a note on my calendar to break up with him. I suppose I’ll do it tomorrow when I tell him I left his car stranded on the parkway,” I mumbled.
“That was his car?”
“Yeah. Why?”
“Good, means I like you even more now because you didn’t buy that piece of shit.”
I smiled then. How could I not? Looked like Mr. Sexy hated the Tesla almost as much as I did. Not that I hated the concept of the car, just the actualization of it. It was downright weird looking, and the fact was, it didn’t work. Not well enough for me to trust it to drive as far as I did. Maybe they were just a city life car. Maybe the next edition would be better. Who could say really?
