Chapter 15

Chapter

Fifteen

P allás Place was in a newly revitalized section of downtown La Paloma. The bar was on the same street as a fusion restaurant with sukiyaki tostadas and burrito-sized sushi rolls, a reservation-only movie theater with reclining chairs, and studio apartments with vaulted ceilings and triple the average rent.

Unlike Ronan's Pub, which was on the older, less expensive side of town, the wolf alpha leader's bar catered to the upwardly mobile paranormal, the sort of person who wouldn't step foot in a corner pub unless some hipster suddenly declared it "retro-cool."

It was a mystery to me how the place stayed in business. It wasn't as if that was a huge demographic in the desert farming community that was Smokethorn County.

It was eleven, early for the lunch crowd. I tossed my black, cat's eye sunglasses into the cupholder, snatched up my phone, and slung my bag over my shoulder. The blade was still in the side pocket.

Fennel bounded out with me then curled up on the roof of the Mini and closed his eyes. No way was he going into a bar full of roided-up canines unless he had to.

"Keep a low profile," I said.

" Meow ."

I strode to the swinging front door and slammed face-first into an invisible barrier. I tried again. Same thing.

It made no sense to barricade the front door of a bar. How would the customers get in? Seemed a fast track to bankruptcy. Unless it was selective about who it kept out…

That asshat .

Floyd must've had someone put an anti-Betty ward on his bar. My guess was the coven he had on retainer.

If I wasn't magically and physically compromised, I'd have taken the ward down in such a way that the coven would regret ever doing it in the first place. But I was using a ton of energy keeping my own healing and pain charms powered up.

Sometimes you had to do things the crude way.

"Hey, if I don't come out right away, head over to Ronan's, okay? He'll help you out." An odd suggestion with Beau just a few streets over. Beau would take care of Fennel. Why was my first thought to send him to Ronan?

What the hell, Betty?

I shook the thought aside.

"Fennel, do you think they only spelled the door or the entire wall?"

" Meow ."

"Never mind. It doesn't matter."

I dug into my bag, extracting the Mara blade. It was also known as the "dagger of confusion," and was reputed to have been powered by the death of a fifteenth-century monk. Its power was in the disruption the blade caused. It confused blood cells, and brain waves, and even the spirit itself. But more than that, if used with a specific spell, it confused magic.

The trick was using the right spell.

It took me half a block's walk to find a spot with deep enough soil to work. The geranium inside this particular planter was hanging onto life by a thread, but that was due to overwatering rather than from being ignored the way the planter by Wicked had been.

Glancing around to make sure I was alone, I dipped the blade and my fingers into the soil and fed magic into it. While I was at it, I regulated the drainage, allowing the water rotting away the roots to evaporate. The geranium visibly perked up, and I received a nice jolt of magic and some powered-up soil.

A fair exchange.

I tucked the dagger close to my body on my way back, careful not to dislodge the soil clinging to the blade. At the front entrance, I pointed it directly at the door and stepped into the ward again. There was a moment's resistance, and then I was pushing through it like a hot blade through a wolf's belly.

I kicked open the front door and stepped out of high-noon sunlight into the comparatively dark interior of Alpha Floyd's bar.

A faux-twang modern country song played on the sound system. Fried food and booze scented the air. The air conditioner clicked on, and chilled air from a vent above my head blew my hair into my face.

No one inside reacted.

Okay, it was an upscale shifter bar, but I'd expected at least a shocked gasp. Maybe a growl or a "How did you get in here?" from the staff.

I wended my way through the tables, peering at every patron. Noses twitched—likely from the scent of blood drying on the back of my head—and recognition lighted in glowing eyes, but no one said a word. A couple of the shifters present had been customers of mine a time or two, and that wasn't something they'd want their alpha leader to know, so they avoided my gaze and pretended nothing was amiss with the situation.

In the back of the room, beyond the dining area, lay a short hallway that led to the bathrooms, storerooms, and Alpha Floyd's office. I'd been here before.

I was met with absolutely no resistance. Not from the servers, the bartenders, or anyone else on staff. Damn. I'd geared myself up for a confrontation. The whole thing was a little disappointing. They'd taken the time to put up a ward. Shouldn't they have at least yelled at me a little?

"How did you get in here?"

A well-dressed male wolf with carbon black eyes and russet brown skin sprang out in front of me. He hooked a muscle-banded arm around my throat and dragged me into a storeroom across from Alpha Floyd's office door.

"Finally, a reaction," I croaked.

"Power move walking into a wolf bar with blood on your head," the wolf snarled as he wrested the Mara blade from my grip with his free hand and tossed it onto a cardboard box. "Stupid, but brave."

I wheezed in a breath. "That's me. Stupidly brave."

"Lilibet Lennox. I'm Mason Hartman. Nice to meet you. You're even prettier than I'd heard you were. Now, what the hell are you doing here?"

"Aww, you think I'm pretty?" He tightened his grip until my head felt ready to burst. "We should … totally get … a drink … sometime."

"I'd love to, but I think my boss might have a problem with it." The wolf squeezed my throat harder. Stars cha-cha-cha'd around the edges of my vision.

"You must be Alpha F-floyd's new s-s-sec…"

" New s-s-sec ?" Mason hissed. "What's that you're saying, witch?"

I coughed a few times then cleared my throat. "Alpha Floyd's new second asshole."

Mason laughed. He loosened his grip on my throat but didn't let go completely. "Now, why would you start off a perfectly good relationship with an insult? I thought we had something, witch."

I coughed a couple more times, waiting to speak until my throat healed a little more. There'd been no real pain, only panic—and a lack of oxygen. The charms around my neck were doing their jobs.

"You are choking me."

"I'm flirting ." He leaned close, pressed his mouth against my ear. He smelled like expensive shampoo and clean wolf. "Didn't pick up on the subtext?"

"Nope. You need to work on your game."

That got me another laugh. "Choking isn't my usual style of introduction. I only did it because I don't want you to start chanting. See, I dated a witch once, and I know what they can do."

Girlfriend Witch must've kept a few things secret from him, because we didn't all need to chant aloud to cast—in fact, I could do it in my head.

"Tell me something, witch."

I took two gasping breaths before responding. "What?"

"Tell me why I shouldn't kill you right here, right now?" His fingers stroked my throat, sending a mixed message due to the relentless pressure of his arm.

"Because you're a moral and ethical member of society?"

"As a wolf, I have a moral and ethical duty to protect my alpha leader."

"I'm not here to hurt Alpha Floyd," I said, adding silently, Yet .

Mason's arm around my throat tightened to the point of pain. "I don't believe you."

A low, bone-rattling growl reverberated off the walls of the storeroom.

" Release her, Hartman ."

Ronan stood in the doorway. He wore black Ray-Ban shades, a white pub T-shirt, and jeans. The shirt sleeves snugged his biceps, and the jeans hugged his thighs. Golden light spilled around the lenses of the sunglasses, accentuating the cold planes of his face.

My breath, already in short supply, whisked out of my lungs in a heated rush. Relief slackened my muscles and slowed my rapidly beating heart. I wouldn't admit it to anyone, but I'd been terrified.

Mason stilled. His grip on my neck loosened, but he didn't let go.

"Don't worry, third," he said, fingertips of his non-choking hand dancing down my neck. "The witch and I are just getting to know each other better."

"Why is she bleeding?" Ronan pushed his shades to the top of his head. His eyes, which had been bright before, now shone like a quasar in deep space. Claws slid from the tips of his fingers, and he was decidedly hairier than he'd been a moment ago.

"Not my doing," Mason said, with zero conviction. It was almost as if he wanted Ronan to attack him.

"Why don't I believe you, second?"

"Does it matter, third ?"

The tension between the wolves had every hair on my body standing on end. Was he seriously challenging the authority of his father's second-in-command? For me?

What a terrible idea.

"He didn't do it," I said. "I got into a, uh, scuffle earlier."

A scuffle ? What was I, a hundred years old?

Ronan didn't give an inch; in fact, the tension in the tiny room ratcheted up. Were the wolves in the dining room feeling anything? No one had dared to come into the hall, as far as I could tell.

"Why would it matter to you if I had, Pallás?" Mason asked. "Are you involved with this witch?"

Ronan looked at me.

I gave my head a brisk shake and stared into his eyes, willing him to read my mind. It's a trap. Don't do it.

He straightened and snapped his head up as if coming to attention. His gaze dimmed. His claws disappeared. He was still hairier than usual but calmer. "I'm responsible for ensuring she finishes the job Alpha hired her to do."

It was stupid and irrational, but a small part of me felt disappointed with his response.

"The book. Right," Mason said.

"Alpha Second," I rasped, "if the next part of your plan is to frog march me into your boss's office, don't bother. I already know the way. Plus, he knows I'm coming."

Mason looked dubious. "You brought a dagger into the bar to kill him."

"I didn't bring the blade in to kill him. I brought it because, one, he told me to—" Okay, that was walking the line between the truth and a lie. He'd told me to bring it to the Mictlantecuhtli cult house, not here. "—and, two, because it's what I used to take down the anti-me spell."

"Anti- you spell?" Ronan frowned.

"Yep. Your pops had someone—I'm assuming the coven—ward the bar against me."

"Why didn't you call and ask to be let in?" Mason asked.

"This seemed more efficient."

"You wanted to prove that you could counter the spell." Mason shook his head. "Godsdamn arrogant witches."

"Hey, it's not like witches have the hubris market cornered. You wolves are galaxies ahead of us." I tried to move out of his grasp, but the wolf held tight. "Look at it this way. If I'd wanted Alpha Floyd dead, I could've poisoned him this morning instead of mildly annoying him."

At the reminder, Hartman's fingers tightened around my neck. It didn't hurt, but it would when I took off the charm. Also, it was getting old. "Tell me exactly how you planted the wolfsbane."

"Maaaagic," I said, with a flourish.

" Betty ." Ronan shook his head. He layered some authority into his voice and addressed Mason again. "It's obvious she's not here to kill Alpha. Release the witch, and I'll escort her to his office. He can decide what should be done with her."

Yikes. I knew he was playing the part, but did he have to sound so convincing?

Mason eyed the other man with antagonistic intensity, stopping short of a challenge. "Yes, third ."

Ordinarily, a command from a third alpha wouldn't fly with a pack second, but Mason Hartman was intelligent enough to know Ronan had some clout around here. He was, after all, the alpha leader's son.

Or maybe he saw the raw power simmering beneath the surface and knew he was outmatched.

Mason yanked me back by the hair and snarled, "Watch your step, witch ," then spun me away from him, wiping the blood on his hand on a handkerchief he produced from the inside pocket of his suit coat.

"Now you want to go dancing? I knew you liked me." I blew a long brown strand of my hair out of my eyes and rolled my head around to work out the stiffness.

The second alpha didn't take the bait. He stormed out of the room after one final, dead-eyed look at Ronan.

"At the rate I'm going today, I'm going to need another heal charm," I muttered.

"Were you flirting with him?" Ronan's eyes were gold again.

"I was using my innate seductiveness as a distraction. Do you think it worked?"

"No."

"Me neither. The whole scene perfectly aligned with my brand of awkward seductiveness. I've always been more femme maladroit than femme fatale, despite the rockin' bod, badass heels, and sexy lipstick."

Ronan's gaze went to my mouth and stayed there for a beat. Then he growled, took me by the elbow, and marched me down the hall past the restrooms. "It's not because you aren't seductive, but because Hartman's a fucking force. Don't underestimate him. He plays the part of dumb muscle. He's not dumb."

"He didn't sound dumb. He sounded homicidal."

Ronan stepped into me, backed me against the wall. Sweat formed droplets on his forehead. His body was hard and taut, and I wondered how close he'd really been to shifting just now.

"What are you doing?" I asked.

"Do not screw around in there," he whispered, lips pressed against my ear. Heat from his body seeped into mine at every point of contact—his hand on my arm, his cheek on my cheek, his breath in my ear. "There are things going on within the pack right now. Delicate things."

"Is that why you've been demoted to third alpha?" I whispered. "I thought Floyd gutted his old security team and bumped you to second."

His jaw tightened. "Just be careful in there. I can't protect you."

I turned my head and pushed my mouth against his ear. "Understand this, Ronan Pallás. I am not without power. I don't require protection."

When I lifted my hand to give him a little demonstration of the aforementioned power, he pushed my arm against my side. "No."

"Let. Go."

"Betty, don't. Please." He looked at me with something not wolf, not male, but utterly human. There seemed to be a balance thing happening here, and he really didn't want me to upset it.

"What's going on?" I kept my voice so low even I couldn't hear it. "And how did you know I was here?"

"I have my ways." His lips grazed my ear, and goosebumps dotted my skin. "You need to understand. As third alpha, I have a responsibility to my leader."

This was his way of letting me know he couldn't get between his father and me. Standing up to Mason Hartman was one thing, but taking my side against Floyd would be seen as a betrayal of the pack. For some reason, Ronan was desperate to stay on the good side of the pack—or his alpha leader, which amounted to the same thing.

No matter what kind of a person their leader was, the shifters in his pack were compelled to be loyal to him. It was one of the perks of being king. A good alpha leader used this benefit of leadership sparingly.

Alpha Floyd was not a good alpha.

"You're going to tell me everything later, right?" I mouthed.

He sidestepped the question. "Are you really okay? Mason didn't cut you?"

"Mason bruised the hell out of my neck, but he didn't cut me. I came in with that wound."

"Not the smartest idea, walking into a wolf bar while bleeding."

"Today I've given what amounts to a masterclass on stupid choices. Why should this be any different?"

"Let me see it."

"It's fine. Let's just get this over?—"

He flipped me around to face the wall.

" Ronan ."

"Hold still." He ran his fingers over the edges of the wound on my scalp, avoiding the center. Tingles of pain blended with pleasure made me shiver.

The man had to have noticed. I didn't do delicate shivers.

He shoved his hip against my ass, pressing me into the wall. To anyone looking from the outside, it would appear to be an aggressive hold, much like the one Mason had used. Except, at no point did Ronan cause me pain. Not even the slightest bit of discomfort. The control he exercised over his body and mine stunned me into compliance. I'd known he was a strong, powerful alpha, but this moment had me second-guessing my earlier evaluation of that power. I'd been so sure I had him pegged, but now?

I wasn't sure I understood him at all.

"Eventually, I'm going to want to know what's going on with the pack," I whispered.

"Not today."

His fingers trailed the line of my neck. My breasts tightened, my hips shifted, my back arched ever so slightly. He worked those wonderful fingers into my hair, stroking the strands with maddening gentleness, then turned me back around to face him. He'd slipped on the shades again, hiding his eyes, but they couldn't completely mask the hunger in his face.

Hunger. For me.

I looked up at him, lips parted, muscles slack. I could tell, even through the dark lenses, that he was staring at my mouth.

A muscle pulsed in his jaw, and he stepped back, shook himself like a wolf that had come in from the rain. Cleared his throat.

"I covered the wound with your hair as best I could, but I can't do anything about the blood. Alpha will smell it."

"Thanks." It was my turn to shake off the effect we'd had on each other. "I'm not worried."

"Na?ve." Ronan shook his head. "Let's go in. Try not to antagonize him."

"Talk about na?ve. We both know my presence makes the man hostile. Not much I can do to prevent it." I wriggled away from him and strolled up to the office door, boot heels clicking on the hall tile floor.

Ronan followed, gesturing for me to get behind him so he'd enter the room first. I wasn't mad about it. If Floyd decided to attack without warning, Ronan would take the brunt of it. He healed fast. I didn't—well, not without a great deal of magic, and I was already testing the limits of my charms.

"Be good in here, Betty."

Not a chance, Ronan.