September Moon (Alexa O'Brien, Huntress #8)(14)

We shared a laugh, and it felt so good. It had been so long it seemed.

“Ky is going to make a beautiful bride,” Shaz said. “A werewolf wedding. This should be interesting.”

“I’m a little nervous,” I admitted. “I hope nothing goes wrong. Nothing involving me at least.”

“Nah, it’ll be a blast. We’ll party. We’ll run. It will be a good time. And you could sure use one.”

He was right about that. I disappeared upstairs to get dressed, needing to escape the sudden awkwardness that had settled over the topic of discussion. I was excited to see one of my dearest friends get married, yet it created this tension between Shaz and I, this strained awareness that wedded bliss would never be our future.

A call to Kylarai perked me right up. As I did my favorite smoky eyeliner and grey eye shadow, she gushed all about the flowers she had selected, the rings they’d picked out, and her inability to decide how to do her hair.

“Coby must be loving this,” I laughed. “I can’t remember the last time I heard you so chipper. It’s nice.”

“It really is. I have never felt this connected to anyone. It’s like we were made for each other. It’s so funny how things work out.” Joy practically poured out of the phone as she spoke.

It certainly was interesting how one event led to another. If I hadn’t attacked Coby on the street in a fit of vampire hunger, he wouldn’t be there with her now. I guess good can come of bad after all. It’s all a matter of patience, watching to see how the pieces fall together.

While I slipped into jeans and a Motley Crüe t-shirt, Kylarai rambled on about the dress fittings.

“I need you and Jez to try on dresses. We need time if any alterations are to be made.”

“We’ll be there, Ky. I promise. In fact, I have to call Jez right away. I’ll remind her.”

When I did call Jez a few minutes later, there was no answer. She would never bother to check her voicemail, so instead I sent her a text telling her to meet me at The Wicked Kiss or to call me back.

I ran a brush quickly through my long hair, pausing to examine the piece Shya had cut. I frowned in the mirror at the short stubby chunk before tucking it under out of sight. Bastard.

After gathering my knee-length leather jacket and the Dragon Claw, I descended the stairs to meet Shaz who had made use of the main floor washroom. He was ready and waiting for me. Freshly shaved and casual in jeans and a t-shirt, his platinum hair was slightly disheveled but stylish.

I paused on the bottom stair and openly gawked. “I never tire of looking at you. Even when we were new wolves back at Raoul’s, I would sneak glances at you, hoping you wouldn’t notice.”

A blush colored his cheeks. “I noticed. When I wasn’t too caught up doing the same.”

He swept me off the stairs and into a warm embrace. With a hand beneath my chin, he brought his lips to mine. It was both tender and firm, reminding me of simpler things in a simpler time.

I was overjoyed that our shared affection had survived the years and the hardship thrown at us. However, I was also saddened by all the things it would never be, the shattered picket-fence dream I hadn’t known I’d harbored until recently.

The kiss ended, and our eyes locked. I opened my mouth as if I might spill everything racing through my mind. Nothing came out. Shaz nodded, needing no words. We left the house before the moment could be ruined. We had no time to waste on what could never be. My focus had to be on what was.

Chapter Five

Unease lurked within me when Shaz and I arrived at the werewolf hangout. It was a warehouse-style nightclub on the south side of town. A weathered sign hung above the front door, bearing the name: Doghead.

Finding the scroll was important. But making connections with the wolves in this city was vital. So here we were.

“How do you feel about this?” Shaz asked. His hand was on the door handle, ready to exit the safety of the car.

“I’m nervous. I hope they listen to what we have to say before they tear our throats out.”

Against my better judgment, I took off the belt that held the Dragon Claw around my waist. Bringing a demon-forged weapon into a den of wolves would be suicide.

Leaving the car filled me with a fresh wave of uncertainty. I would not go in there stinking of fear. I took a deep breath and reminded myself that I was here as a friend not a foe. Maybe I no longer had a pack to lead, but I’d earned the Alpha title and would not act like anything less than that.

I’d hoped we would slip past the bouncer at the door and blend into the crowd inside. No such luck. We were stopped at the door and searched for weapons.

“We’re here to speak with whoever’s in charge,” I declared when questioned. “We just want to talk. That’s all.”

The wolf manning the door scowled at us. He openly sniffed us, scenting for a lie which he would not find. Big and burly, he was intimidating for sure, but I’d dealt with worse.

“Follow me.” A man of few words. I liked that.

We followed him through the bar, which was smaller on the inside than the exterior made it appear. Concrete floors and basic black tables gave the place a very colorless appearance.

There was not a single human in the place. Everyone we passed was a wolf. There had to be well over a hundred. Each of them bore a tattoo on the side of their neck, marking them as members of a pack. Judging by the different tattoos, I’d guess two or three different packs frequented the place. Envy left me with a sour taste in my mouth.