Witches Get Stitches by Juliette Cross

Chapter 8

~NICO~

I’d made myself scarce.I hadn’t lied to Violet. I had errands to run but, honestly, I could’ve gone grocery shopping for my full-moon trip later. I’d found reasons to stay away from Empress Ink all day, because having Violet in my home had upset my entire being.

I’d grown accustomed to being around her and ignoring my attraction. It had become easy to tell my dick he wasn’t getting any whenever he perked up around Violet.

But hell. Having her wander through my private domain, eat my food, sit on my furniture. It had made me want to lock the door and never let her leave. Now that was a crazy thought.

So wandering the neighborhood and doing any possible little miscellaneous thing, like browsing the liquor store to stock up for my couple days in the woods, seemed the right thing to do.

After putting the box of six bottles of whiskey in my trunk, I thought maybe I was going overboard for a three-day trip.

The bottles rattled in the back of my Jeep as I pulled it into my driveway behind the shop.

Mateo had texted and said he was coming by, which I’d totally forgotten about. He hadn’t been by since we’d made renovations to the shop, and I wanted to commission a piece from him, a metal rendition of the logo, to stand in the center of the lobby.

Besides, I was being preposterous, I realized as I opened my door. There was no reason to be so territorial over—

Who in the fuck was that?

A feral growl rumbled in my chest as the distinct whiff of werewolves hit my nostrils.

Leaving the back hatch of the Jeep gaping open, I followed the scent in long strides all the way to the front door of the shop where it was the strongest.

My wolf raged and pushed me to shift and rip open the door, but I shook my head, knocking some sense into him. For now.

Still, I was less than gentle when I swung it wide and stepped into the lobby. Sean was the only one up front, his gaze shooting to mine. He held up his hands in a calming gesture, “It’s okay, Nico. Nothing happened.”

But I could barely hear what he was saying over the raw ache to shift. The buzzing of rage heated my blood and filled me with the need to bite and claw.

Interlopers. Invaders. Frenzied fury burned through my blood. I wandered along the sofa, smelling the familiar scents of the guys from the Blood Moon pack. Then a very distinct one hit me, and it was coming from…Violet’s workspace.

A guttural growl vibrated in my chest, my sight and other senses intensifying in a blink. I knew good and well my eyes were glowing when Sean murmured “oh, shit”under his breath as I stormed by him.

When I stepped into her workspace, she was alone, but his scent was still there. She was sitting at her desk in the corner, sketching. Her eyes rounded when she saw me.

“Nico?”

I strode toward her in three long steps, narrowing in on the source. Grabbing her hand, I leaned over and lifted it to my nose, then skated up to her wrist.

There. That motherfucker.

“Nico.”

Her voice was low and soft as I tugged her forward and smelled her hair, along her neck, across her shoulder. I needed to be sure he hadn’t touched her anywhere else.

“You need to calm down.”

No. Just the wrist. I swept my nose along her skin, the silky texture barely distracting me as I double-checked that it was indeed Shane touching my territory.

“Nico.”

I snapped my gaze to hers, realizing my wolf had taken over. Even so, I couldn’t peel my fingers from around her wrist, subconsciously swiping my thumb across the delicate webwork of veins, needing to wipe away his scent.

“When was Shane here?”

Oh, fuck. My voice was so deep. I was riding a razor’s edge, literally about to shift right then and there. Glancing at my hand, I saw my nails had already transformed to black claws and were now abrading her silky skin. I flinched and dropped her wrist, then backed away.

She stood slowly. “It’s alright. No need to go wolfie,” she teased, even though her expression was a touch hard and grave.

Magic saturated the room. And not my kind. It was hers I tasted in the air, ready to erupt if necessary. I was aware she was a strong telekinetic on top of her clairvoyance, and I was pretty damn sure she was preparing to use her magic on me. Against me.

Pain, sharp and piercing, cut through my chest.

“Fuck,” I growled, backing all the way to the wall, pressing the heels of my hands to my closed eyes, willing my blood to stop boiling to the surface.

The image of Ty flashed through my mind. His wide eyes, his fear, the bloody wound opening up his throat and shoulder.

“It’s okay.” She was close now, but I didn’t dare open my eyes, afraid I’d grab her and bite her.

Because that’s all I could think about right now, marking the fuck out of her so no other wolf could come walking in here, thinking he could touch her.

I was truly lost. This was so bad. We weren’t even dating, but my emotions were a roaring avalanche of mine, mine, mine.

“Easy,” she whispered.

I winced when her hands brushed up my arms to my shoulders then back down. Then up again. Soft and slow.

“Everything’s okay,” she said again in that breezy, lovely way.

Almost immediately, I felt the raging heat retreating. She had no idea how close I’d been to losing myself entirely. Nor did she know how quickly she’d calmed the beast.

My claws retracted, while my heart slowed to normal. It took intense concentration to beat back the trembling urge to shift. Her gentle voice soothed the beast.

That was another thing about Violet. While her words were often crass and hard and profane, the timbre of her voice resonated with a raspy, musical quality that penetrated through centuries-old beastly DNA. If there was such a thing as a werewolf whisperer, she was it. Or maybe it was just me who responded to her in this way. The idea of other werewolves finding pleasure in the sound of her crooning voice lit another flame of fury in my gut.

“You’re okay,” she went on, murmuring soft assurances that all was well.

Still, I waited with eyes closed, sucking in deep breaths, fighting my wolf, swallowing the need to stake a claim that would prove to Violet that I was the wild animal all supernaturals thought us to be.

“It’s all fine.” Her lovely hands drifted up to my shoulders, her thumbs pressing at the base of my neck, a massaging squeeze before sweeping away again. The smell of her so close was doing the trick as much as her hands on my body and soft words, gentling the beast.

If I could open my eyes, grab hold of her waist, and pull her into me, hug her slender frame to mine, that would be the greatest feeling in the wide, wide world. The sweetest balm to my overheated brain and body.

But we were friends, right? I’d said it this morning at breakfast because it was true.

It was also true that I wanted us to be far more than that, but I was afraid of losing this right here if I crossed a line she didn’t want to cross with me. I’d rather have this than nothing at all. It needed to be her who made the first move. Not me.

I finally opened my eyes to find those gorgeous blue ones peering up at me, the most tender expression of concern on her face. I couldn’t help but smile.

I’d never seen her look worried about anything. Pissed off, yes. Frustrated, yes. Furious, lots of times. But anxious about someone? Never.

“I’m okay,” I said. The rustiness of my voice proved I’d nearly transformed, the internal shift having partially completed before I could stop it.

I reached up my hands to place them on her hips but then thought better of it. Straightening, I shifted sideways slowly, letting her hands drop from me. Again, a tiny stab to the solar plexus jarred my senses.

“You sure?” she asked, her expression still soft but now a little smile twisting her lips.

“Mmhmm.” I nodded, tucking my shaking hands into the front pockets of my jeans.

“I need to figure out that werewolf spell quick, don’t I?” This softer side of Violet had me weakening further for her, wanting to cradle her close.

“Yeah.” I cleared my rusty throat. “You can see now why that would be really helpful.” I tried not to sound sardonic, but I did anyway.

She propped a hand on her hip and teased, “Thought I was going to get to see what the real-life American Werewolf in London looked like.”

That was the Violet I knew. Each word was edged with a hint of playful sarcasm. Though I didn’t like that the soft Violet had retreated, I was also glad she was treating me like normal. Not some bomb about to spontaneously combust.

Then she asked, “You okay?” Her brows raised high and her head tilted, sincerity etched in her expression.

“Completely fine.”

“Completely, huh?”

“One hundred percent.”

“So I can talk to you about your buddy, Shane, without you losing your shit now?”

The door in the lobby opened. Sean greeted someone.

“He’s not my buddy. Not anymore.”

“I got that feeling. He—”

A sudden snarl from the lobby. “Where are they?”

“What the hell now?” Violet turned toward the door.

“Mateo,” I answered on a sigh, following her back into the lobby.

Of the two of us, Mateo has always been the cool and controlled one. I should say had always been. Until this witch put a curse on him that had changed him permanently. Sort of.

When the curse prevented him from shifting each month, his wolf rose to the surface, speaking to him like his own personal little devil on his shoulder. I found it fascinating since my own wolf never actually spoke to me. We were much more aligned as one and the same, not separate entities. Which was why I’d always been cautious, especially after that tragedy with Ty.

The problem for Mateo was that after the curse was broken, his wolf, Alpha as he liked to be called, didn’t go away. Mateo was still the thoughtful, sensitive artist, but Alpha often exerted his presence when he sensed a threat. Like he apparently did now.

He was leaning over the sofa, sniffing the back cushion. He jerked up, moved down the sofa, and did the same to the next cushion.

Evie was parked at the front counter where Sean watched in fascination, his eyes darting to Evie. Couldn’t blame him. Her long auburn hair was pulled back in a ponytail, highlighting her pretty heart-shaped face. She was dressed casually, much like her sister Violet, jeans and a T-shirt that read The Dark Side made me do it.

Mateo suddenly stood straight and turned on us, staring at Violet with raging intensity. He strode over, but before he could reach out and grab her hand to smell her wrist—because I knew exactly where this was going—I stepped in front of him and put a hand to his chest.

“Settle down, man.”

“Where’d they go?” His eyes were full-on carnivorous gold, his voice barrel-deep.

“Christ. Is this what I looked like a few minutes ago?”

“Worse,” said Violet, peeking around my shoulder.

“They’re not here,” I assured him, which eased his intensity by a single small notch.

“Who are they?”

I heaved out a sigh, knowing he was going to rip into me. “It was some of the Blood Moon pack.”

“Blood Moon?” Sean snorted. “Seriously? Can we be any more cliché?”

“Those assholes? I thought you were finished with them,” Mateo accused.

“I was.” Then, “I am,” I clarified. “No idea why they’re in town.”

Evie hopped up to sit on the counter, completely unfazed by her boyfriend’s frenzied behavior. “Alpha, they’re not here, so cool your jets.” Interesting that she knew when to address his wolf.

And just like that, Mateo relaxed, rolling his neck to pop it. But then he asked, still gruff, “What do they want?”

“That’s what I was about to find out when you stormed in.” I turned to Violet. “Well?”

She shrugged one shoulder. “He was asking about my charmed tattoos.”

“How the hell did he know about your ability to do that?” I growled.

She sighed, looking a little despondent. “Apparently, Livvy posted something of an ad on the SuperNet about it.”

“Already?” I snapped.

“It wasn’t her fault really. I remember us talking about it, but I’d thought I made it clear I was still experimenting. I didn’t want to promote it yet. Which reminds me.” She pulled her phone from her back pocket and started texting.

A sharp tug of force pinched my chest as I thought of Shane returning and harassing her. “You’re not to be in the same room with him or any of them without me.”

“Don’t worry about them,” she said swiftly, still texting Livvy.

I clenched my jaw so tight I heard something pop. My urge to dominate the situation—and her—was overriding all reason.

“They’re dangerous,” I added.

She huffed out a laugh. “I can handle them.”

Then I dropped my voice low, taking a step closer to her. “But I don’t want you to.”

She put her phone back in her jeans pocket. A pinch between her brow was the only response as she soaked in my words.

Mateo stepped up between us. “I don’t want a pack of fucking werewolves in our neighborhood, sniffing around my—”

Evie’s laugh filled the lobby. She was leaning back on her hands, looking at Sean and laughing at something he was saying. He had that usual Sean smirk as he propped his upper body over the counter really close to Evie, whispering in a far too intimate way.

A growl rumbled in Mateo’s chest.

“He’s just a kid,” I assured him.

But, apparently, in Mateo’s state, or rather in Alpha’s, that didn’t matter. He marched across the lobby and took Evie’s hand, then tugged her gently and firmly off the counter, shooting a death-stare at Sean who didn’t seem to mind at all. Then Mateo scoured the lobby before he marched toward the partitions.

“Do you want a tour?” asked Violet.

I sighed. “He doesn’t want a tour.”

“What’s he doing then?”

He returned from Violet’s workspace in two seconds then headed up the hallway toward the office area in long strides.

“We’ll be right back,” Evie called over her shoulder lightly, still being pulled around behind him as he stormed down the hall.

“What are they doing?” Poor Violet was so confused. There was a lot she didn’t yet understand about werewolves.

The music that usually played over the speaker system I’d installed throughout the shop was on Violet’s nineties playlist, currently pumping out Pearl Jam.

“Sean, turn the music up.”

“Why?” asked Violet just as Mateo opened the storage closet, pulled Evie in behind him, and slammed the door. “Are werewolves always this weird?”

It wasn’t strange at all if she understood our true nature. When a pack of werewolves came wandering into our territory, we wanted one thing. To enforce our dominance over what was ours. Short of pissing a circle around Evie, he was doing the next best thing.

There was a bump of something falling in the storage closet, then a rhythmic bang against the wall and Evie’s somewhat stifled moans. But with my hearing, it was clear as day.

Violet snorted. “You’re kidding me.”

Sean turned the music up, but her moans got louder. So he turned up the music again.

“What’s going on?” It was Tom, standing in the lobby. “I can barely hear myself think in there.”

“Sean.” Lindsey walked up the hallway from her workspace, the farthest away from the lobby. “Can you turn that down a little?”

Then all of us looked down the hall as a crescendo of moans peaked and the pounding against the storage room wall sped up with loud thumps. Something else crashed to the floor but the banging—literally—kept on going. Then it stopped altogether, the sexual groans subsiding.

Sean turned down the music, his grin saying everything. “Epic.”

Lindsey, wide-eyed and blushing nearly purple, turned around abruptly and headed back to her room.

The closet door wrenched open, and Mateo stepped out holding Evie’s hand and guiding her back to the lobby with a swagger.

Evie’s ponytail was askew, her lips swollen, and there was a reddish bite mark on her neck. She looked sex-rumpled and sated.

I was so damn jealous my head was about to pop off. Not that Mateo had fucked Evie and marked his woman in the closet, but because I wanted to do the same to Violet.

“Fucking werewolves,” muttered Tom with a shake of his head and headed back to his workspace.

“Sorry,” Evie said to Violet with a somewhat penitent expression.

Mateo didn’t look remorseful at all. That smug son of a bitch let out a satisfied sigh and said casually, “Ready for the tour.”

“Well”—Violet cleared her throat—“you know where the supply closet is, so why don’t I show you where the magic is done?”

“We just saw that, too,” said Mateo, his voice back to its usual smooth timbre.

Evie snickered. Mateo smiled down at her, lascivious as ever, tugging her close to wrap a hand around her hip.

Violet stepped close and pointed a finger at them. “No more fucking in my shop,” she hissed. “This is a place of business. You’re not some damn teenagers. You can wait till you get home.”

“Yes, ma’am.” Mateo’s smile hadn’t slipped one single millimeter.

When Violet’s gaze slid to mine as they walked away, I was struck with an unusual and awesome discovery. There wasn’t just anger and aggravation gleaming from those bright blue eyes, but another emotion that punched me with devastating force. Lust.

Was it because that little display triggered her arousal in general? Or was it because she was imagining us doing the same thing? Like I was. Sooner rather than later, I was going to find out.