Being back at Bloody Mary’s is like stepping into a different dimension.
My shift should be normal as can be—I’ve worked here for three years, with six months bussing tables before Mary promoted me behind the counter—but I keep stealing looks at customers, wondering if their eyes will glow. Every time the door swings open, I brace myself for Andrew to walk on in. Yet so far it’s the usual late-evening crowd, either searching for a hookup or the best view of the Wildcats game.
Mary drops a full rack of empty beer mugs onto the counter with a heavy clink. “I like the new shirt. Spend the weekend shopping?”
As far as bosses go, she’s a solid nine out of ten. The last point only goes because she insists on doing our hours and tips by hand, without a phone or calculator in sight. It takes forever and then some.
“Um, yeah.” The mugs get dumped into the sink so I can wash them before the next sober wave wanders in. “I went with a few friends.”
Royal, Talisa, and Alejandra took me to a secondhand shop in a little town off the 60 to pick up some new clothes, since going back to my apartment is staying out of the question right now. I’ll have to deal with it eventually—and somehow pay my rent—but not until I’m sure Andrew has decided to leave me alone.
We stopped at a massive store for outdoor gear too. The place was a cabin the size of a castle, with three floors dedicated to every kind of camping and sport, including some I’d honestly never heard of. I put a pup tent—yes, they cracked up—on my credit card, because the thought of having no walls between me and potential scorpions was too much to bear.
Everything was so normal. After last night, I expected a mask to drop, like the club would start acting completely different. If I hadn’t seen what happened to Connor, I would have no idea that they could turn into giant wolves. They just seem like a group of good friends, happy to live as they please.
I wonder what Micah looks like as a wolf. She said she got taller when she changed, but how much different would it be to see her covered in fur? Does everything change? Would she still recognize me?
“That’s good.” Mary swings around the counter and grabs a bottle of vodka, pouring two clean shots. My guess is that it’s for the guy in the corner who keeps checking his phone. “Never sounded like you got out much.”
Because of Andrew. He wanted every hour of my day, every day, and any time that wasn’t accounted for usually got me interrogated. His fits brought me to tears more than once, trying to explain that I had gotten stuck in traffic or lost track of time. Even if I stopped to see someone I knew—even my parents—it put him in a mood, like I couldn’t be trusted if he wasn’t in arm’s reach.
God, how did I not realize how bad things were? Why did I just roll over? He did this to me on purpose.
Swallowing past a sudden wave of anxiety, I force myself to look at Mary. “Yeah, about that. I actually need to tell you something.”
Her brow knits. “Sounds serious. Give me a second, I need to top this guy up before he realizes he’s been ghosted.”
Called it.
Mary returns with more glasses, then grabs a towel to start drying the ones I’ve washed. “So what’s going on?”
“I broke up with Andrew,” I say softly. “He didn’t take it well, so if he calls or comes here, I just, if you could—”
Her eyes harden, gray polished to steel. “Was he hitting you?”
It’s a question she’s asked before, I can tell. Mary is an old-school dyke—her words—and probably the toughest person I know. This place isn’t formally a gay bar, but all-ladies nights have been a thing here since the late eighties. Times have changed a lot since then, but I can only imagine what Mary’s seen and heard.
“I got out before that.” Thanks to Micah. “I don’t even know what happened. Like, okay, looking back we were never ideal, but a few weeks ago, Andrew lost it. Said he had a fight with his dad or something. He started raging out, getting in my face. I caught him going through my purse. Then...yeah.”
I leave out the part about the phone and my apartment, because even thinking about it makes me feel ill.
“In my experience, that happens because a guy’s convinced that no matter what he does, you’re not going to leave.” Mary polishes another glass and sets it aside, voice just above a whisper. “So they stop pretending. That rage they’ve been holding on to pours on out.”
Maybe she’s right, but the truth hurts. Andrew deciding I was so broken that I’d never run makes me want to scream until I can’t anymore.
“Guess so,” I mumble.
“You’ll be fine, honey.” Mary gives me a light bump with her elbow. “And he’ll get what’s coming to him if he walks in, okay? Same with anyone who causes you trouble. I didn’t truck with that nonsense when this bar opened, and I sure as hell don’t tolerate it now.”
She’s going to make me cry in the middle of my shift. I turn up the water to hide a sniffle, trying to focus on cleaning the mugs. Of all the people to have my back in the middle of this mess, I hadn’t expected my boss to be one of them.
“You want a ride home after work?” Mary asks.
I smile. “Someone’s picking me up already, but thank you.”
“Good.” The door swings open, and two guys in trucker hats walk in, looking for some cold beer to ward off the heat. “Let me know if you need anything else.”
The rest of my shift is a lot more relaxed. We get busy when a group of ASU grads trample in, leaving me to sling IPAs and cocktails fast as we can take orders. None of my fellow alumni recognize me, but that’s not much of a surprise; I don’t think I knew a single freshman by name once senior year swung around.
Once they clear out and I count up the last of my tips—surprisingly generous, considering—I check my phone for the time. It’s fully charged and tracker-free, thanks to Connor. Micah should be here in about—
Heavy boots on wood draw my eye as she walks in. Micah doesn’t wander far, leaning back against the wall by the door, motorcycle helmet hanging off her fingertips. Her lean body is almost as tall as the frame, shadows cast over muscle thanks to the half-light of the bar. From this angle, her hair has a silver sheen, hazel eyes brighter than they should be.
Last night, that scared me. This time, I...
I steal a quick glass of water from the bar before grabbing my purse, but Mary catches me on the way out, arching a gray brow. “She’s your ride?”
“Yeah.” A grin pulls at my mouth. “Do you know her?”
Mary shakes her head. “I don’t. Sure looks like an upgrade, though.”
Oh, she thinks—shit. “We’re not dating.”
“Hm.” She shrugs. “My mistake. Usually my friends aren’t giving me bedroom eyes across a crowded bar.”
There’s no way. I slip my compact out of my purse, making a quick show of checking my hair, but the angle is just right to catch a glimpse of Micah’s face. My heart does a hard flip. Her gaze cuts through the room, utterly focused on me, as if nothing else in the world exists.
Snapping the compact shut, I draw in a shaky breath. Is she into me? Or is this just some protective werewolf thing?
“Micah’s kind of intense,” I murmur, turning to leave before Mary says something that really makes me blush.
Micah straightens up when I approach, offering the helmet. “Work go okay?”
“Uh-huh. Thanks for picking me up.” Helmet in hand, I follow her out the door and into the crisp night air. At least I have a new jacket to shield me from it now.
As I climb onto the motorcycle behind Micah, her head snaps to the left, toward the dark horizon, then goes unnaturally still. This close to Phoenix, there isn’t much in the way of starlight, and the streetlamps don’t stretch out that direction either. Whatever she’s staring at in the deepest shadows, I can’t make heads or tails of it.
The silence is getting to me. “Micah?”
“Don’t mind me.” She shakes it off, starting the ignition. “Thought I noticed something.”
With my cheek pressed against her back, a heavy scent fills my nose. I don’t think it’s sweat or oil, but something about it is harsh and familiar. “Did you get hurt? I smell...blood.”
“We went hunting earlier,” Micah says, tapping the starter. The bike rumbles to life, already warm. “I’m fine.”
Hunting? Oh. “Probably not the kind with camouflage and a rifle half a mile away, huh?”
“Not quite.” Amusement laces her voice, and I’m so glad she can’t see my face. “But I’ll make sure to wash up once we’re back.”
The ride is nice and relaxed. Once the distant city lights fade, it’s so much easier to breathe, and I can count the stars as we head into the park. Pine and dry earth lead up to a blazing campfire, where there is an incredible amount of meat on sticks. Connor is tending the skewers, and I spy Royal lying by the side of their bike, grease-marked hands working at something in the wheel well.
Alejandra is sitting behind Talisa on one of the logs, gently twisting a few locs back into place. Talisa’s eyes are closed, but she acknowledges us with a wave anyway. “Any sign of trouble?”
“Not yet,” Micah answers, rolling her bike into place and knocking down the kickstand. “I’m going in the lake. Apparently I smell like dead deer.”
“Hey!” It wasn’t even bad, just different. “I didn’t say that.”
“She does, in fact, smell like dead deer,” Royal says. “You’re getting like ten percent of it, max. Trust me.”
Fair point. The whole “werewolf super senses” thing hasn’t sunk in yet.
The part about there being blood on Micah does, though. Did she kill a deer with her bare hands, or was she a wolf when she did it? Despite her size, I can’t picture her being so brutal. I mean, I guess it’s natural for an animal, and everyone here has to eat—including me—but the thought of Micah on the hunt makes me shiver.
Not...entirely in a bad way either.
Oblivious to my sudden and vivid fantasy, Micah leaves with a ragged towel and a hard block of soap in hand. My eyes follow her until she disappears past the tree line, and something tightens in my chest.
Why do I keep staring at her? It’s like I’m thirteen with my first crush again, hanging near the bleachers and hoping she’ll notice me after softball practice. Except I’m an adult with full control of her libido now—or at least I’m supposed to be.
I shrug off my jacket and drop down onto the other log. With the fire, the camp is nice and toasty, but I have no idea how to keep myself occupied. I’ve done my best to stay off my phone—the charger runs off Connor’s battery and my data isn’t infinite—but if I’m honest with myself, I’m more the glamping type. Firmly in the school of Barbie’s First Forest Adventure, accessories and all.
Except Barbie had a way bigger budget than I do.
“How do you spend your time out here?” I ask. “Like, the quiet’s nice, but I can’t imagine just hanging out the whole day.”
“Depends,” Talisa answers. “I make a lot of art. Look around and see if you can find it.”
It’s hidden?
There’s trees and red earth basically everywhere, so it takes me a second to separate—well, the forest from the trees. Firelight casts shadows between knotted branches and thick brushes of pine needles, which is where I spy a meticulously carved woodpecker. The details are etched in every single feather, tapering to a needle-thin beak. If the sculpture wasn’t so still, I’d think it was real.
“Wow, that’s beautiful.” I squint, trying to get a better view. “So how many others am I looking for?”
“Here, in camp?” Alejandra finishes with Talisa’s locs, then kisses the top of her head. “I don’t know, babe. You made like twenty birds last summer.”
“They’re spread out, though,” Talisa says. “I made the benches here too, but that’s easy. See if you can find the chimes. I had to clip them so they wouldn’t keep everyone awake.”
I do a full three-sixty, slowly turning on my heel. There are two more birds above my head, a little easier to spot now that I’ve seen the first one, but it’s not until I step away from the fire that light reflects off a glimpse of steel. Layers of geometric shapes spin slowly around each other, the longer chimes beneath weighted with heavy metallic beads to keep from swaying. It’s mesmerizing.
“Where’d you find metal like that?” I ask.
“Honestly? The side of the road.” Talisa smiles. “When we need something, we come across it eventually. That’s always been the way.”
“There’s tons of stuff you can make if you learn how,” Royal adds. “Like, I made Micah’s soap. It’s pretty easy.”
“And I made Talisa’s dye.” Alejandra leans against the other woman’s shoulder, voice warm with pride. Talisa’s fingers slip through hers and squeeze. “Anything outside red and orange is a pain to put together out here, though.”
I frown. “But what about Micah?”
It’s hard to picture her walking into a salon every month, and she has a pretty high-maintenance style going on.
Connor gives me a confused look. “What’s Micah have to do with this?”
“Her hair is totally white.” Everyone is staring at me now. Great. “Unless she’s really stressed twenty-four seven? Or has some medical condition that is totally not my business?”
Alejandra snorts. “Nah. She’s just an alpha. No dye required.”
I have no idea what that means. “Do they all have white hair?”
“No.” Talisa shakes her head. “But alphas match the fur of their wolf one for one. Whatever makes us what we are, they have more of it. They’re one step closer to the beast, even when walking around in human shape.”
“It’s also why she’s so ripped,” Connor mutters.
Royal smiles at him. “Come on, man, you’re on T. You’ll get there eventually.”
“I know.” Connor frowns, scratching his chin. “You’d think being a werewolf would make my beard grow in faster.”
Yeah, you really think it would.
“If you don’t believe us about Micah, go ahead and see.” Alejandra points back through the woods. “She’ll be at the lake for a while.”
“Isn’t she washing up?” I ask.
Naked. She would be at the lake naked.
“Everyone sees everyone in the buff at some point around here,” Talisa says. “Especially in summer. It’s too hot to sleep wearing anything, especially for us.”
“Communal nudity is a lot more common with werewolves than it is for humans,” Royal warns, giving me a small smile. “But Talisa’s right. It’s really no big deal.”
Alejandra takes a hard sniff of the air. “And no offense, mija, but you smell like stale beer and co-eds.”
Ugh, gross. “Have any extra soap?”
Royal provides, although the towel they give me is definitely a couple of old T-shirts that have been sewn together with care. I’m politely shooed away in the direction of the lake, and any worry of getting lost vanishes when I catch sight of the water.
Micah.
She’s facing the moon, calloused hands working soap through the pale flare of her hair. The tattoo on the side of Micah’s neck is in full view, cup-like flowers etched in vibrant purple ink, with a spray of sharp green leaves nesting underneath. Muscle stretches taut in each shoulder, carved deep into her back, tapering to the solid presence of her hips where Micah’s body ends and the water begins. At this hour, it’s too dark for me to see through the veil of the lake, but that’s for the best—I don’t want to be caught leering.
Micah dunks her head in the water and emerges a long breath later, shaking her head to dry off the excess. The move is so wolf-like that I almost laugh, but the sound freezes on my lips when she turns around to face me.
Clear rivulets drip down the sharp line of her jaw, past the tattooed column of her throat. One particularly bold drop slips past the frame of Micah’s collarbones and between her breasts, tracing the sculpted lines of her stomach like a caress. There’s a narrow line of white hair there too, spreading out like an arrow the lower it goes.
She’s so gorgeous I can’t even come up with an excuse for staring at her.
“Did they send you out here to clean up too?” Micah asks.
No hint of shame or hesitation shows on her face. Royal must have been telling the truth; I’m the only one who’s flustered here. Which, for the record, is totally and utterly unfair.
“I can’t blame them,” I mumble, summoning every ounce of restraint I have to keep my eyes above her shoulders. “The bar doesn’t smell great at the end of the day to me, and my nose isn’t anything like yours.”
“Get in the water.” She invites me with a come-hither gesture. “The lake feels perfect at this hour, once the sun goes down.”
A blush settles in my face as I strip, but after gawking at Micah, it feels silly to ask her to look away. After taking the band out of my ponytail and leaving my clothes in a pile next to hers, I dip a foot into the water. It’s cool but not cold, and enough heat lingers in the park tonight that the contrast is an immediate relief. The bottom of the lake is nothing but smooth stones and fine sand, and the deeper in I go, the lighter I feel.
“This is selling me on living in the forest,” I say, needing to dispel the silence between us. Something about the quiet is too intimate, urging my heart to beat faster. “If you get to do stuff like this every day.”
“It’s nice,” Micah murmurs. “Do you want me to get out? I don’t want to...”
I’m not sure what stops her short, but I lose my words too under the intensity of her stare. Even without the wolfish glint in Micah’s eyes, her gaze traps me in place like amber, and I’m far too aware of every inch of space between us. Too aware of how a single step could close the gap, and the water lapping at my back as if urging me forward.
“What don’t you want?” I whisper.
Her jaw tightens, muscle working there like a diamond under pressure. “I would be lying. And I don’t want to lie to you.”
That final step brings me close as can be, although I have to tilt my head up to meet her eyes again. My fingers flex under the water, fighting the urge to reach out and trace Micah’s skin, to feel the heat and strength she radiates in waves. Her nostrils flare, eyes averting, and every tendon in her neck goes tight. She’s fighting too, struggling against something I can’t see, but I don’t want her to hurt, not when I’m so close.
“Micah.” I want her. I want this. “It’s okay.”
When she looks at me again, those bright eyes fall to my mouth, desire written all over her face. It’s raw, unfiltered, and completely intoxicating.
I press up onto my toes without thinking, pressing my lips to hers in a firm kiss. Her mouth is warm and welcoming, exactly what I need. I have to grasp at Micah’s shoulders to keep me steady, but the second I touch her, a wall shatters between us. A growl of need escapes between her teeth as she returns the kiss, too eager to resist.
Something in the world shifts, making my heart ache. Nothing has ever felt so right, not like this.