17. Eli

I've been on a three-day bender - or at least that's how it feels.

I sit up slowly, feeling every muscle in my body aching as I do, rubbing a hand over my face. The night before comes back slowly, and then in a rush, and I shake my head, a little dazed.

I've fucked all night before, and I've had nights where what I got up to with the woman–or women–in my bed left me feeling sore and wrung out the next day…usually around the full moon. But there was something different about this, and not only the fact that I shouldn't have been that frenzied.

The way something winds tight in my chest at the thought of seeing her again, an anticipation and nervousness that I've never felt with any woman before, only makes me feel even more confused and unsettled.

But not enough to not see her again.

I have the urge to grab my phone and text her the moment I wake up, to find out exactly when that could be. But I stop myself, that unsettled feeling spreading. This isn't normal for me. I've been going from place to place, girl to girl, for a long time. I've never woken up the next morning missing the sound of someone's voice, or eager to see them again as soon as possible.

Also, I have work tonight, and right now I feel like I've gone ten rounds in a boxing match.

I drag myself out of bed and into a hot shower, and then downstairs to the Lodge's dining room for breakfast–which turns out to be lunch when I realize that it's past noon by then. And all the while, my thoughts keep drifting back to Wisteria. Her eagerness, her softness, the way she was somehow passionate and sweet all at once. And the way she touched me–

My body tightens at the memory. I've met plenty of women who were aroused by what I am, who found me exotic, or exciting, or enjoyed the perceived threat. But Wisteria touched me differently. She was…curious. She didn't know anything about what I am, but she wasn't afraid of me. And she was turned on–but not in the way that I've experienced with others. It was softer, gentler than anything I've ever experienced before, while still somehow being some of the best, most passionate sex I've ever had.

I tell myself to sleep on it before I text her, to give it a little time to wear off before I say or do anything rash. I feel like I'm in uncharted territory, uncertain of my own decisions when none of my feelings or reactions make sense to me. What I want is to put it out of my head, and get through my night at work–and when I think of Wisteria popping up at the bar, I don't know if the idea makes me excited or anxious.

Unfortunately, the moment I walk into the back door and see Adam, he immediately clocks that something is up.

"What's going on, Eli?" He narrows his eyes. "You look different. More cheerful, I think. And you smell different. I swear to god, if I see one of my waitresses mooning around tonight because you–"

"Fuck off," I growl. "I've left your fuckin' waitresses alone, Adam."

He grins, leaning up against the wall and crossing his arms over his chest. "Ah, there's the Eli I know and love. You're really not gonna tell me what's going on? I haven't seen you with that much spring in your step since–shit, I can't even remember. I think it might've been that one hunting trip we went on, six or seven years ago, before you took off again."

I glare at him, fully ready to tell him that I don't want to talk about it. I know it's what he expects of me. But I hesitate, the small voice in the back of my head that's somehow grown louder since my encounter with Wisteria yesterday murmuring that maybe I should confide in someone. That maybe, for once, being a lone wolf isn't going to help me in this.

Hell, maybe Adam can help me understand what's going on.

"Not right now." I rub a hand over my short beard, feeling the rasp of it against my palm. "After the bar's closed? We'll sit down and have a beer. But I need to clock in."

Adam whistles. "That bad, huh? Alright. A beer after work sounds good." He glances down the servers' hallway, looking out into the bar. "We're already getting busy, so turn on that charm, yeah? And stop scaring Marley."

"I haven't been–" I trail off, seeing that Adam has already turned and headed towards his office.

I catch a glimpse of Marley as I stride towards the bar. She gives me a quick, nervous glance from where she's slicing limes, and I keep walking. The latent predator in me, which normally perks up at the scent of something so prey-like, remains dormant. Clearly, everything about me is worn out after last night's acrobatics.

Work is more difficult than usual, though. It feels harder to turn on the charm and–usually effortless–flirtation that earns me my tips and brings in repeat business to the bar. A slender redhead who I remember having come by with her friends is here alone tonight, perched at the bar in a tight black dress, her makeup flawless. She's watching me hungrily, and I catch a whiff of shifter on her. Something omnivorous–a deer, maybe. I wait for that slow, curling hunger to spread through me, for my wolf to wake up and take notice as she leans forward with a smile, but there's nothing. He's slumbering so deeply he might as well be in fucking hibernation.

Failing that, I wait for my body to react in some other way as I walk towards her. She's gorgeous, with a delicate, heart-shaped face, green eyes, and full lips and breasts. Those breasts are very much on display in her low-cut dress, pressed against her forearms as she leans in as if her order is a secret.

"I think I'd like to try the Witch's Bouquet." She glances at the menu. "Not that I'm a witch." There's a smirk on her full lips, like we're sharing an inside joke.

There's never been a moment in my life before where I wouldn't have played into this. She's beautiful, clearly eager, and another shifter–one who would probably enjoy playing the game of prey and predator with me. But as she smiles at me, pushing her card across the bar to open a tab, I feel nothing. No flicker of interest. I expect to feel that tightening of desire, my pulse quickening, to feel my cock twitch. But it's as if it's all vanished.

"Comin' right up," I tell her instead, and I see her cheeks flush a light pink as she sits back in her chair a little, her gaze following me.

The drink is straightforward enough. Gin, St. Germain, honey syrup, a sprig of rosemary rubbed around the glass and then floating on top. I can feel her eyes on me as I make it, the warm, grassy, fruity scent that's wafting off of her drifting towards me. It bothers me, that I should want her, and don't. That something about myself that's been a constant for so long has changed so suddenly.

And why? Over one woman?It doesn't make sense.

I bring the drink over to the redhead. "Here you go, darlin'." The usual endearment feels odd on my lips, after murmuring it to Wisteria last night in the heat of passion. As if it's wrong, saying it to someone else.

"I'm Miranda." She smiles at me, taking a sip and letting out a low hum of pleasure that normally would have had my cock stirring in my jeans, had me imagining that hum vibrating against my skin as she wrapped her lips around it.

What would it feel like with Wisteria's mouth on my–

I shove the thought down, but with difficulty. That's just about the only thing we didn't do last night, and now the idea of Wisteria wrapping her soft lips around my shaft, her tongue laving along the straining skin–

All those hallmarks of desire that I didn't feel a moment ago come rushing to the surface. I can feel my blood quickening in my veins, my pulse leaping in my throat, the prickling of lust down my spine as my cock stirs to life and my wolf looks up from his slumber, eager to feel her soft skin against ours again, her mouth–

Miranda is looking at me oddly. "Are you alright?" Her voice has a slight hint of displeasure. I imagine the conversation isn't going the way she hoped it would.

I clear my throat. "I'm fine. Just a little tired, is all. Been a long couple of nights."

Her green eyes brighten a little with mischief, and she swirls her drink in the glass before lifting it to her lips again. "Could I interest you in another long night?"

Goddamn it.I should say yes. I should tell her to meet me after, take her back to the Lodge, and tumble her thoroughly into bed in order to try to shake Wisteria loose. I've never been hung up on a woman before, but surely the cure is to remind myself how good it is to have a different one in my bed. How good it feels to be free, without any attachments or expectations or anything at all holding me back.

Instead, I find myself shaking my head. "Sorry, darlin'. I'm afraid I'm gonna be workin' late, and then probably turnin' in as soon as I'm done."

She pouts a little, her full lips pursing. "Another night, then?"

I take a slow breath, wondering what the hell I'm doing even as the words come out of my mouth. "I'm gonna have to pass on that. My apologies."

I can tell she's not happy. I can't imagine there's very many men who turn her down. She tosses back the drink in a quick gulp, wincing slightly at the burn, as if it's a shot and not a thirteen-dollar craft cocktail. Without a word, she grabs her clutch and moves off to a different table, one where I see a group of local guys sitting with their beers. They look up as she moves towards them, and I can see in an instant that they're a pack–a predatory gleam lighting the eyes of every one of them as Miranda sways towards their table.

There's no need to guess what's going to happen to her tonight. All five of those wolves are going to have her in a room later, and I have a quick flash of what it might look like–her slender, pale body arched, the room filled with the scents of sweat and sex and the musk of shifters, hard cocks eager for the woman who's going to service all of them. She glances at me over her shoulder once more, the look in her eyes easy to read–you could have had this, and now they will.

I shake my head, watching her go. Behind me, Adam's voice nearly makes me jump out of my skin.

"Alright, now my curiosity is more than a little piqued. You turned that down, Eli? Are you sure you're not sick?" His voice is lightly, good-naturedly mocking, and I grunt, reaching for her empty glass.

"I'm fine. But I can't say I've ever turned a woman down before only to have her walk straight into a wolfpack gangbang before." I shake my head again, seeing Miranda sandwich herself in the middle of one of the benches. The heat in the room feels as if it went up five degrees, the sudden lust in that corner of the bar palpable. "We're gonna have to keep an eye on that group, make sure things don't get out of hand before they leave."

"They're gonna eat her alive." Adam is watching the scene with a sort of mildly horrified fascination, and I chuckle, rinsing off the glass and setting it on the dish board to dry.

"Oh, she's gonna get eaten, alright." I break away from Adam, going to get a drink order from a couple sitting at the end of the bar and two guys a little further down. Right now, all I want is to keep myself busy.

At the end of the night, the bar cleaned and wiped down, all the receipts cashed out and the last customers trailing out of the front doors, I wait for Adam to lock up and then pour a beer for each of us. My feet are aching, and I sink down on one of the long benches at a table, taking a deep drink of the beer.

"I'm gettin' too old for this," I mutter, and Adam laughs.

"You're not even thirty-five yet. Hell, we're basically the same age. You're not old. It's just the toll of living as hard as you do."

"Yeah, you might be right." I take another sip of my beer, feeling a little pensive as I look over his shoulder to the dark night outside. My cell phone is sitting a hand's-length away, and I can't help but think that Wisteria hasn't sent me a message, either. Maybe because she doesn't want to seem too eager, the same way I want to make sure I'm not acting on impulse.

"You waiting to hear from someone?" Adam follows my glance over to my phone. "Maybe the same someone who had you walking in here tonight with a new spring in your step?"

"You're too perceptive for your own good. Anyone ever tell you that?"

"Occasionally." Adam takes another sip of his beer. "So? Who is it? If you're minding your business and keeping your hands off my waitresses like you promised, who else did you manage to charm into your bed? Anyone I know?"

"Actually, almost definitely not." I lean back in my seat, feeling the ache in my shoulders as I do. "She's new in town, apparently. You might remember her from when she's been in here though–pretty brunette girl–big eyes, nice figure…"

Adam laughs. "That describes a lot of women who come in here. So, not a tourist then. Shifter?" He grins. "That'd be the day. Eli Evans, finding a shifter to mate. Maybe you're gonna be staying in Bayton longer than you thought."

"She's not a shifter. She's just human. Which is strange, right?" I frown. "Humans–just mundane humans, don't normally live here, right?"

Adam considers for a moment. "No," he says finally. "I can't think of many occasions where that's happened. You know as well as I do they're usually uncomfortable with our kind–with anyone magical. They like the tourist experience, but living next to us day-to-day–no, not usually. If someone like that does move here, there's usually a reason. An obsession with the magical, writing a book, that sort of thing. Sometimes it's more sinister than that. But it's rare, whatever the reasoning."

"I don't think she's up to anything sinister." I rub a hand over my mouth. I can't imagine there being a sinister bone in Wisteria's body, truthfully. I think of her sweet expression, her teasing laugh, the way she flirted with me and her shyness in bed before she finally let go of her inhibitions–no, nothing sinister there. I can't see how it's possible. "She definitely wasn't obsessed, either. She didn't know anything about shifters. She didn't recognize the usual–signs."

Adam's eyes widen. "Damn. She didn't know about that–" He motions in the general direction of beneath the table "--and she didn't run screaming? Most human women who don't already have a shifter fetish would be terrified by that." He makes a face. "I don't have a wolf's anatomy, but I've had a couple human women tell me no thank you once they see what a mountain lion shifter offers them."

"She wasn't scared. More–curious."

Adam raises an eyebrow, chuckling. "That sounds pretty good, if you ask me. I'd like a curious woman in my bed."

I know very well that he doesn't actually mean Wisteria–he doesn't even remember who she is. But the moment he says it, I feel the hairs on the back of my neck prickle, and a low growl vibrates in my throat. Adam's eyes widen.

"Easy there, man. I wasn't talking about your girl." He frowns, and I don't have to hear it aloud to know what he's thinking. That that sort of involuntary jealous reaction isn't normal, when Wisteria isn't a shifter. When she's not my mate, or even the possibility of one.

"Are you gonna see her again?" The question sounds neutral, but I can hear the careful curiosity behind it. Adam knows me well, and when I nod, he knows how unusual that is.

"Yeah. I'm not sure when, exactly. I haven't talked to her since."

"Why not? You keep looking at your phone like you think it's gonna go off any minute."

I shrug, but the casualness of it feels forced. "I'm tryin' not to act on impulse."

Adam snorts. "Says the man who's been acting on impulse his whole life. You decided to change that now?"

I lean back, running a hand through my hair. "Yeah. Because the kind of impulses she makes me feel are dangerous. The kind that get a man trapped."

Adam lets out a low whistle. "Shit, Eli. One night, and she's got you feeling like this?"

"I know." I reach for my beer, draining it. "It's not like me. I wanted to see her again before she was even out of my bed. She's been on my mind all day. Hell, you saw me turn down that gorgeous redhead, watch her walk off with a pack of other wolves, because I couldn't muster so much as a twitch for her." I shake my head. "From the moment I saw her walk in here, honestly, I wanted her so bad I couldn't stop thinkin' about it. Full moon–she was all I thought about." The memory of it makes me ache, the reminder of that relentless onslaught of lust making me crave her in my bed when the next moon comes around, making all those fantasies a reality.

I stand up to go refill my beer, before I think about it too long and can't stand up at all. "You want another?"

"Yeah." Adam pushes his glass towards me, a thoughtful look on his face. When I come back with a fresh beer for each of us, he frowns. "Could she be a witch?"

The word feels like a slap. Just the thought of it makes me recoil, an uncomfortable feeling sliding down my spine. "No." I bite out the word faster than I mean to. "She's not a witch."

"Are you sure?" Adam rubs a hand over the back of his neck. "All these things you're saying–how much you wanted her right off the bat, how she's got you acting different, that she seems human but moved here to Bayton–I'm just saying. She could be a witch."

I shake my head again, sharply. "I fucked her, Adam. I've been that goddamn close to her. Witches are supposed to smell like poison to a shifter, you know that. Warn us off from one of the few things above us on the food chain."

Adam laughs wryly. "I don't know who told you that, but it's not true. Not always, anyway. I've known a witch who smelled just fine to me. Enough that I wanted her in my bed."

"And the part where they can put a spell on us? Make us into their pets?" I feel my jaw tighten. "Is that bullshit, too?"

"Nah." Adam lets out a slow breath. "I've heard of it happening before. But as far as whether they're all like that–I don't know if that's true."

"Better safe than sorry though, right?" I take a long draught of my beer, feeling something in my gut tighten. "She's not a witch."

"How do you know?" Adam cocks his head, and I frown at him. "You just growled at me and got your hackles up over a woman who shouldn't be able to get that kind of reaction out of you. And you're telling me there's nothing out of the ordinary going on here? Just some garden-variety lust?"

"It's a gut feeling." I can't imagine Wisteria being a witch any more than I can imagine her being in Bayton for some malevolent reason. "Witches are manipulative. Cunning. She's none of those things. She's–"

"Got some kind of hold on you, that's for sure." Adam finishes off his beer, giving me a narrow look. "Just be careful, Eli. I'm hesitant to say that, because god knows I'd like to see you stay in one place for once, for more than a few months. And I like seeing you happy–happier, at least. But–"

"I know what I'm doing." It comes out more sharply than I intended, and Adam chuckles.

"That I know isn't true. But you're gonna keep on doing it, so I'll be here when you need to talk." He tips his glass towards me. "Until then, I think it's time for me to head home." Adam stands up, taking his glass back to the bar, and then glances back at me. "You know you can count on me if you need something, Eli."

"I know." And I do. It's the reason I came here in the first place, because I had a feeling Adam's offer of a job would still be good. That he'd have my back, even if I'd fucked up, even if it'd been a long time since we'd seen each other.

"Come on." He jerks his head towards the door. "I wanna head home and you should do the same."

Home.I've never felt a tug in my chest at the sound of that word before, never cared that I haven't had somewhere to call home since I was a teenager. But I'm suddenly, sharply reminded that Bayton isn't home for me. It's just another place to stop over until I decide where I'm going next.

I tug my leather jacket closer around me as I step out into the crisp chill of the fall air. Adam goes one way and I go another, walking to where my bike is parked and starting the engine. As the sound fills the air, I consider going back to the lodge, and decide to go for a ride instead.

It's the kind of fall night that's perfect for it. The sky is cloudless and studded with stars, the wind is cold but not frigid, and there's a distinct scent to the air that's only present this time of year, and only somewhere like this. Somewhere a decent distance from the city, where the air is cleaner and there's space enough for everyone to breathe.

I pull out onto the road that will take me up further up into the woods, to where things get a bit more mountainous. I'm not sure how long I ride for, exactly. All I know is that I'm not looking forward to going back to my empty bed. I'm not looking forward to sleeping alone tonight.

You didn't have to.Right now, I could be tangled up with that redhead, surrounded by heat and softness and that particular sweet scent of a woman's skin. But when I think about it, all I want is Wisteria.

I stop my bike where the road narrows, pulling off the road and parking it along a trail just beyond the treeline. I take my keys with me, shoving them into the pocket of my leather jacket as I start to walk.

It feels good to be near a forest again. I grew up in terrain not so different from this, though on the other side of the country. I've spent time in every other kind of place since then–in and around cities, beach towns, deserts, but a part of me has always missed this. And coming back has felt a little like–

I push the thought out of my head before it can take root. I came up here to remind myself why I like being free. Why it matters to me to be able to go where I want, when I want. To live my life on my own terms, without a family or a mate to risk disappointing–or worse.

I've never wanted to be responsible for breaking anyone's heart. For giving anyone expectations and then failing to live up to them. The only expectations I've ever wanted to be responsible for are my own–and those are difficult enough, in and of themselves.

I walk out to the clearing, to a wide swath of grass beneath the star-studded sky. Shrugging off my jacket, I lay down, tucking it under my head as I close my eyes for a moment and breathe in the scent of the woods around me. My wolf stirs, stretching, eager to get out and run, but I resist it. For tonight, at least, I want to enjoy this just as a man.

Before I can stop myself, I reach for my phone. She wasn't scared of you, I think to myself as I scroll to find Wisteria's number. She might just be human, but she wasn't afraid. She didn't think anything different of you because of what you are.

One more night. I can't let it turn into more than that. If I do, it's asking for trouble. To hurt someone, just as I always swore I wouldn't. Not after what I saw in my pack, not after what happened.

Can I see you again?

I send the message, short and to the point, nothing to indicate I want a date. I hadn't meant for our first encounter to feel so much like one, and that's yet another thing on the long list of what unsettles me about all of this–that so much of it feels out of my control. Like I've become someone different.

Adam's questions prod at the back of my mind as I toss my phone onto the grass next to me. But I feel certain she isn't a witch. Everything I've ever heard about witches suggests that they couldn't be what she is–kind, and sweet, and gentle, and funny. That they're conniving and bitter, seeking to warp the world around themselves to their will. I would have sensed it on her. As casual as all my sexual encounters have been, I'm not so foolish as to think that being that close to someone doesn't matter at all. I can't believe I could have shared a night like that with her, and be entirely blind to the truth of her.

She's not a witch.

My phone vibrates on the ground next to me, making me jump. I reach for my phone, and see Wisteria's name on the screen.

I'd like that.

Her message is equally brief. A sign, maybe, that she's trying to keep things casual, too. Or maybe that she's not rolling last night around in her mind, trying to figure out why it feels so different from everything that came before.

Maybe I'm just finally losing it.

That seems clear when I send back: What about tonight?

Seconds tick by. Then a minute. I'm about to send her a message telling her that it was a joke, when my phone vibrates again.

Meet you at the Lodge in an hour?

A jolt runs through me, my pulse leaping as I sit up abruptly. An hour will give me just enough time to get back, and not nearly enough time to wash off the night at the bar. But I don't want to risk her backing out. Now that it's a possibility, every part of me is yearning to see her again–not just again, but tonight.

Sounds perfect.

I get up, dusting off my jeans and grabbing my jacket, heading straight back to where my bike is waiting. I speed heading back down the roads, taking the turns a little faster than I should, having to remind myself to slow down. I won't end up in bed with Wisteria tonight if I'm plastered all over the asphalt instead.

But it feels like I can't get back fast enough.

I've never been the type to do drugs. I've tried a couple, back when I was younger, but my vices of choice have always been whiskey and sex, with a little bit of gambling thrown in from time to time. I avoided drugs because it felt too easy to get addicted, to let my life spiral out into the control of something else.

Wisteria makes me feel like that. Like I'm not entirely in control of my own actions, like I need to feel what I felt last night again. That much pleasure, that much intensity with someone else. It feels like chasing a high.

Which means I need to get out before I get addicted–right as I'm telling myself, speeding back toward Silver Lake Lodge…one more night.

One more time. One more hit.

I see her walking into the Lodge just as I pull in. I park the bike and hop off in record time, nearly singing my jeans on the hot metal as I stride towards the door. She's standing near the receptionist's desk when I walk in, wearing jeans and a loose forest-green t-shirt with a black leather jacket over it, and it takes everything in me not to grab her and kiss her the moment I walk in the door.

She must see it on my face, because her eyes widen. A pink flush starts to creep up her neck, and her lips part as if she's going to say something. I jerk my head towards the stairs, and she swallows hard, nodding.

There's no one at the desk to see us, and I'm a little glad. The air feels like it's crackling with raw sexual energy, sparking along my skin, arcing across my nerves. Earlier I'd felt as if all the desire had been sapped from me, but now it's all back, with the intensity of the full moon, as soon as I see her. As soon as I breathe in, and my nose is filled with that sweet, sugary herbal scent.

The moment we're inside my room, the second she closes the door, I turn sharply and reach for her.

I hear her gasp as my broad hand grips her hip, pulling her flush against me as my other hand slides into her hair. She left it loose, soft around her shoulders, smelling like almonds and honey from her shampoo. Her lips are so fucking soft, too, plush and full against mine, and I groan as I curve my palm against the back of her head and slide my tongue into her mouth.

She offers no resistance. Her lips part easily for me, welcoming me in, a reminder of how easily the rest of her body will open for me, too. Her hands press against my chest, fingers curling in the open v of my shirt, pulling me closer. I feel her fingertips brush against the hair on my chest, hear her soft moan as my tongue slides against her mouth, and my cock is rock-hard in an instant, straining against the fly of my jeans.

I want her, desperately.

Her hands come up to touch the sides of my face, her fingers skimming over my beard. I can feel her touch everywhere–on my jaw, my throat, her hands sliding into my hair as she moans again and tangles her tongue with mine, her hips arching against me. I slide my hands around to the curve of her ass, gripping, squeezing, torn between the desire to strip her bare and fuck her hard and fast, and the desire to savor all of this.

This needs to be the last night. It needs to be–

Wisteria's hands drop to my shirt again, tugging it up, and I let her slide it up and over my head. She lets out another little moan when she sees me bare-chested, her palms pressed against my heated flesh as she drags her mouth away from mine, to my throat, sending shivers of pleasure down my spine.

She starts to drop to her knees, and it feels once again as if a jolt of electricity arcs through me at the thought of her mouth on my cock.

I slide an arm around her waist, stopping her. She looks up at me in confusion, clearly wondering why, and I laugh dryly. It's a hoarse sound in my throat, low and raspy, and I feel Wisteria shudder, arching into my touch.

"Don't you want me to–" She licks her lips nervously, and my cock throbs.

"I want your mouth on my cock more than I want to breathe," I tell her honestly. "But I've been at work all night, so let's get in the shower before you do."

Wisteria laughs softly, her fingers trailing along the edge of my jeans, brushing against the trail of hair that runs from my navel and dips below my belt. "Such a gentleman," she murmurs teasingly, and I feel that tug in my chest again.

I'm not, and I never have been. But with her, she makes me feel something that almost makes me think I want to try.

"Come on," she murmurs, hooking her fingers in my belt. "Let's go see about that shower."

Without another thought in my head, I follow.