Chapter Four

He'd pushed her too fast.

Callum cracked his knuckles and waited for Wendell to tell him the price for all four costumes. He'd picked out a couple more on his way out of the VIP room and wanted to pay for all of them for Iris…or…Stacia. Her name was Stacia.

"Four hundred," Wendell said.

"What? Stop your bullshit. What's the real price?"

"I'll only take four hundred. Your family has protected this town and my business for how long now, Ashbrock?"

Callum locked his arms against the counter. "For selfish reasons. This is our home."

"And the town is grateful, even if they don't know why," Wendell said, arching his eyebrows knowingly. "Four hundred is all I'll take. She is a rare beauty. If she has the interest of the pack, she's good by me."

Stacia didn't know it yet, but she was the most important thing to happen to his pack in three centuries.

"Is she a part of the curse?" he asked.

Callum gritted his teeth. Wendell knew too much about too much. Instead of answering him, he pulled his wallet out of his back pocket and threw down eight hundred-dollar bills. "This should at least cover the cost of the fabric."

"I'll just find a way to give it back," Wendell promised.

Callum shrugged. "Do what you like."

His hearing was better than a dog's and he'd been listening to the rustle of Stacia's movements this entire time. She was finished and heading this way, her heels making soft thudding sounds against the black carpet of the VIP room.

Excitement wrenched up in his chest. He was going to see her again. Her. Iris. No. Stacia. God, she looked like his Iris, but she wasn't. She wasn't. She didn't feel like her, or have the same eye color. She didn't moan like her.

Stacia came through the door, and Callum's heart lurched in his chest. She wore a red and black checkered ringmaster costume, complete with fishnet stockings clinging to her toned legs, and short skirts. A gold belt wrapped tightly around her trim waist, and her top hat sat proudly atop her dark curls. Her eyes might not be the same color as Iris's, but Stacia had the exact same dark skin color. Same tone, same softness. And her curls were identical, just in a more modern style now.

Alex really had found her.

Do I know you?

Stacia had asked him that, because she'd felt something. She'd recognized something about him.

Sometimes, reincarnations could do that—hold onto memories of the others that came before them.

It really was her. After all this time, she was finally here.

"You're still here," she said on a breath, her pretty hazel and blue eyes gone wide. Perfectly arched black eyebrows, high cheekbones, bi-colored eyes, a pert nose, and full lips. How was she without a man? "I did ho things, but I didn't mean to," Stacia blurted out.

Well, there it was.

Callum snorted and coughed to hide the laugh, and Wendell frowned at her. "We all do ho things every now and again, dear."

Her cheeks had gone from pink to bright red. "I need kettle corn with M&Ms. Alex said so." She flopped the Marie Antionette costume and the Little Red Riding Hood Costume bags onto the counter. "And I need to pay you more than one hundred dollars per costume because that's not fair to you. You're an artist, and you deserve compensation for the incredible pieces you have allowed me to try on here today, and—"

"Good lord, just take them," Wendell said, exasperated. "Ashbrock already bought them. You are both ridiculous about gifts."

"Oh." Stacia's full lips plopped open. "You bought my costumes?"

God, he wanted to take her back in that dressing room and take her from behind, empty himself inside of her and drag that sexy little moan from her lips again. "All of them," he said.

She asked, "Are you like a sugar daddy or something?"

He laughed again. She was funny. He wasn't an easy laugher, but she made him feel…lighter.

"I'm definitely not that."

Wendell was leaning onto the counter, his hands under his chin, looking like he was enjoying the show. "Want me to tell her what you are instead?"

Callum didn't often want to eat people, but Wendell was tempting the animal right about now.

"I'll load your costumes into my truck outside if you want to go grab your kettle corn. Are the rest still in the dressing room?" he asked, already knowing the answer.

"I couldn't carry it all at once."

"It's a lot of boxes. No one could."

Wendell grinned. "I bet Ashbrock could."

"Stop calling me Ashbrock," Callum growled.

"Did you know the Ashbrock family founded this town three hundred years ago?" Wendell asked Stacia.

"No! Really?" She gave him an open-mouthed, shocked grin that had Callum's heart all up in his throat again. God, she was stunning when she was happy. "Callum, are you one of the relatives of the founding family?"

He was the damn founding family, but Stacia didn't need to learn too much too fast.

"Thanks for your help, Wendell," he muttered.

"Anytime. See you tomorrow."

"No, you won't," Callum said, gathering all four costumes.

"Yes, I will. I'm coming out to the pumpkin patch for Boo-zy Trick-Or-Treat tomorrow. I'm shutting down the shop for three hours and everything."

"What's Boo-zy Trick-Or-Treat?" Stacia asked excitedly.

"It's happy hour at the pumpkin patch. No kids allowed tomorrow at all, and all of the local wine makers and beer brewers set up tents. It's ten bucks to get in, and you get as many samples as you want. And they have a scary corn maze, a haunted house, and every fair snack you could imagine. I'm talking roasted corn, funnel cakes, hand dipped corn dogs, the works."

"Oh, I'm going to that," Stacia said. "I'm obsessed with corn dogs. That's what she said."

"Ha." Callum hadn't meant to laugh that loudly, and cleared his throat. "You said that's what she said to your own joke."

Wendell grinned. "I'll be there in a scarecrow costume. Look for me."

"I'll find you," Stacia promised, then turned to Callum. "Will you be there, too?"

And he could hear it—the hope in her voice. Good. It was really her.

"I'll see you there, too."

"Good. Good good good. I'm glad I'm finding friends here. It makes this week even more fun." She made her way to the exit. "I'm going to buy you some kettle corn, okay?" she said to Callum.

Ooooh Stacia. She didn't understand what giving a gift to a werewolf would do. It would tether the animal to her, but he didn't care. Not when he was looking in the face of Iris…Stacia…Iris…Stacia…

He would say yes to anything, and damn all consequences.

She was meant to change his life. She was meant to change his pack.

She was going to save them, he hoped.

Save them or destroy them—those were the options.

"I would like that," he told her.

Her answering smile just about did him in. The tingling of his skin said the wolf wanted to mark her, but it wasn't time. Not yet. Not. Yet.

He didn't dare breathe until she'd left the building and the door dinged closed behind her, and when he did at last exhale, it came out a long snarl.

"Will she survive you?" Wendell asked softly.

"Of course," Callum answered…and hoped he was right.