The Devil’s Russian Beauty: Book Two of The Werewolves of Rebellion Series Copyright © 2017 by Ana Lee Kennedy

 

All Rights Reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, without permission in writing from the publisher.

 

This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events, locales or persons, living or dead, is coincidental.

 

For more information contact:

Riverdale Avenue Books

5676 Riverdale Avenue

Riverdale, NY 10471

www.riverdaleavebooks.com

 

Design by www.formatting4U.com

Cover by Scott Carpenter

Digital ISBN 978-1-62601-337-7

Print ISBN 978-1-62601-338-4

 

First edition, January 2017

 

 

Chapter One

 

Bernadette hopped out of Frank’s Dodge pickup. She slammed the door, then stepped up onto the curb to drop a couple dimes into the parking meter. “We have 20 minutes,” she called over to him.

She glanced at the stairs leading to the courthouse’s main doors, then turned back to Frank. After paying the MC’s property taxes, then picking up a few cases of beer, they’d return to the MC, where they would enjoy a cookout and playing horseshoes or cornhole. As Frank got out of the truck, she let her gaze wander over him. She loved the way his tattoo sleeves rippled whenever he moved. Hidden beneath his cut on his left shoulder and down over the pec was an amazing tat of a gray wolf. She itched to run her fingers over it, examine every line while she rode Frank in the throes of passion. He caught her gaze and grinned.

“Thinking naughty thoughts again, sweetheart?” he rumbled.

The deep timbre of his voice shot a thrill straight to her core. She grinned back. “Maybe,” she said, drawing the word out playfully.

He met her on the sidewalk, then leaned down by her ear. “You may find yourself flat on your back tonight, you little minx. And maybe on your hands and knees, possibly with your calves on my shoulders, and maybe even flat on your belly with me straddling the backs of your thighs—”

Heat flooded her lower belly and settled in her folds. “Stop it!” She swatted him lightly on his arm. “It’s already a hundred degrees out. I don’t need you making it any hotter.”

“Sweetheart, that’s how I feel every time I look at you.” He kissed her quickly. “I won’t be long getting the elixir, so I’ll meet you here at the truck in a few, okay?”

She nodded. “Tell your grandmother I said hello.”

With a wave, he strode to the corner. Bernadette crossed the expanse of concrete and ascended the wide steps to the county seat. The cool interior and the aroma of age and wood polish welcomed her. She began the next climb up the numerous marble steps to the second floor. At the top, she made her way around all the tables set up across the mosaic-tile floor, where energy rights companies battled for sales, filled out paperwork, answered cell phones, and tapped away at laptop keyboards. As she passed, each man stopped what he was doing and offered her flirtatious smiles or stared in awe. Even now, with one of the sexiest men alive as her mate, the attention of other men still embarrassed her.

At the auditor’s office, she reached for the doorknob, but a tall, golden-haired fellow stepped in front of her. “Allow me,” he said, opening the door and holding it for her.

“Thank you.” She tried not to make eye contact with him.

He smiled, revealing beautiful, even, white teeth. “My pleasure.”

The way he spoke fired unease up Bernadette’s spine to the base of her neck. The hairs on her nape stood up. She chanced meeting his gaze and discovered the most brilliant blue eyes she’d ever seen, eyes that fairly crackled with sexuality. Flustered, she looked away and focused on making her way inside the office.

The door didn’t shut immediately. Out of the corner of her eye, Bernadette caught the man watching her for a moment. Unnerved, she pondered the simmer of power that rose just beneath her skin. Her witchcraft mentor, Scary Mary, had told her to pay attention to her feelings and sensations. Puzzled by her reaction to the guy, she relaxed when he finally closed the door.

Two people, a man and a woman, stood at the wide counter. The clerks worked slowly, chatting as they processed paperwork. The pace of Rebellion, unhurried and friendly, still charmed Bernadette, but there were times, like now, that she wished people would talk less and work faster. A blonde stepped out from behind a partition with a stack of folders in one arm. She said something to another lady, who sat at one of the two desks behind the counter. The older woman nodded and handed the blonde a couple more folders.

Something about the way the blonde held her head, her red-painted lips mashed in a thin line and her light eyes stony sparked recognition in Bernadette. The man in front of her moved away from the counter, and Bernadette took his place. As she waited for the clerk to come back, she returned her attention to the blonde.

“Do you need me to go over the computer process with you again, Daffi?” the older woman asked.

“No, I got it,” the blonde answered, “but if I get stuck, I’ll holler.”

Daffi? Why did she know that—wait. That was the bitch who attacked her at the Wraithkillers MC!

Daffi pushed through a half door leading to the waiting area, but as she passed, she caught Bernadette’s gaze and recognition flared on the woman’s face, followed by surprise, then hostility. Her eyes brightened with anger and she looked away. In the far corner of the room, Daffi sat at a tiny desk with a laptop and a printer where she began inputting data from a file.

The clerk gave Bernadette the total taxes owed plus the late fee, then Bernadette filled in all the information on the signed check Frank had given her. All the while, her mind spun with the knowledge that one of Crow’s sheep was working in the auditor’s office.

Finally, receipt in hand, Bernadette stepped away from the counter. She looked over at Daffi, who sat with her back to Bernadette. The bright tattoo of a tropical getaway scene peeked above the top edges of her blouse, the colors stark against the white cotton. Bernadette approached her, but stopped a few feet away, her gaze zeroing in on a new scar barely hidden by a sleeve. It looked like two interconnected capital R’s.

Somehow, Daffi must’ve sensed her stare. The woman turned, the color draining from her cheeks. “What do you want?” she whispered harshly.

“I just…” What did she want? She hadn’t walked over to the woman with a question in mind, but something had drawn her to Daffi. “I noticed the new scar on your shoulder.”

“So what?” Daffi almost snarled. “It’s none of your—”

“Are you okay?” Bernadette blurted before she could stop herself but kept her voice low. “Do you need help?”

“I’m…fine.” The stony glint in the woman’s eyes faded. In its place wariness resided, but also gratitude. “I’m with the River Rebels now,” she added, dropping her voice even lower. “Thanks.”

The tiniest twitch at one corner of Daffi’s mouth surprised Bernadette. She frowned quizzically. “Thanks? For what?”

“For asking if I’m okay.” With that, Daffi turned back to the laptop.

Thoroughly confused, Bernadette left the auditor’s office, once again maneuvering through the numerous tables, wary that she’d encounter the blue-eyed man who had intercepted her. Over by the staircase leading to the third floor, she spotted him leaned over a table talking to another man. He caught her gaze and grinned wickedly. She glanced away and made her way downstairs, her magic rising. Whoever he was, she didn’t want anything to do with him.

Outside, she found Frank already waiting for her at the pickup.

 

* * *

 

For several minutes, all Daffi could do was stare at the blinking cursor on the laptop screen. She couldn’t believe the redhead had actually taken a moment to ask if she was all right. Why? They’d gotten into one helluva fight—she touched her cheekbone—with Bernadette giving back as good as Daffi had dished out. She wasn’t proud she’d attacked Bernadette. The redhead’s spectacular body and gorgeous face would make any woman feel inadequate, especially when men were around. She’d have to be more careful to hide the ownership scar. The River Rebels were outlaws, but she didn’t want to wind up sold like the others were. Some of the buyers were pure evil incarnate.

Daffi straightened her shoulders and shook away her disturbing thoughts. If she kept her mouth shut, sucked the dicks she was told to suck and fucked who she was told to fuck, giving over information whenever she got some, she’d be fine. She had a secure job here in the auditor’s office, and Hudson, the River Rebels’ president, would be out of jail in a few months, and everyone said he was nicer than his second-in-command.

Yeah, she was safe, had a roof over her head, food to eat, nice clothes…she could do this. With tentative resolve, she concentrated on her job.

 

* * *

 

“Daffi?” Frank said.

Quickly, Bernadette refreshed his memory on the tattooed blonde with whom she’d duked it out while at Crow’s MC.

“Ah, that one.” He nodded.

“She had a double R branded on her shoulder,” Bernadette said. “I asked her if she was okay, and she said she was fine, then she actually thanked me for asking.”

Frank shifted gears as he accelerated out of town, the back of the truck full of munchies, a few cases of beer and several bags of ice. “It’s common practice for outlaw MCs to swap, trade or sell their sweetbutts. Although some will brand their women to show others who they belong to.”

“I’m beginning to think I dodged a bullet by not researching and writing my crime novel about outlaw gangs,” Bernadette stated.

“What do you mean?”

“If I had stayed with Crow’s MC, I might’ve ended up like Daffi.”

“Well, you didn’t.” Frank settled his hand on her knee and stroked his thumb back and forth over her skin. “You’re my woman and you’re with the Werewolves of Rebellion now. You’re safe, well cared for, protected, happy…”

“Yeah, but Daffi doesn’t have those things.” Bernadette stared at the scenery as it whizzed by. “And if she doesn’t have the things most of us take for granted, how many others like her are out there?”

“More than you want to know,” Frank replied darkly. “Once a woman gets in with a one-percenter gang, it’s next to impossible to leave. If she’s in the courthouse, she serves as the eyes and ears of the River Rebels. Anything she learns that might benefit the MC, she’ll pass it along.”

“So she’s a spy, an informant?”

“Yep.”

“And here I thought she was just in a bad situation.”

“She is,” Frank said, “because if she doesn’t do as she’s told, she’ll be punished, or worse.”

How could women let themselves be used like that? Disturbed, Bernadette snuggled against Frank’s side while he didn’t have to shift gears. Every time she was near Frank, all she could think about was getting naked with him. She drew in the aroma of leather from his cut, his personal odor that was a mixture of all-male perspiration and the spicy deodorant he wore. A big dose of drying clover from the fields they were passing added to the heady mix. When she’d told Luella how she craved Frank, her friend had told her it was because they were mates. Whatever the reason, Bernadette couldn’t get enough of Frank. Every time she thought about how much she loved him, her heart actually felt like it would explode.

Frank drove along SR 26 until they reached a length of road where he slowed for the curves, forcing Bernadette to pull away from him so he could change gears. In minutes, they reached Graysville and he turned left to head out over the ridge to his motorcycle club, Bernadette’s new home. It may have only been three months since Frank had told her he loved her and wanted her to stay with him, but those three months had been the most rewarding and fulfilling of Bernadette’s life. She had a new family—a huge one—and her mother had been invited to move into the community too. At first, her mom had resisted, but after Bernadette had argued that her brothers Chad and Duncan were moved out with their own families and the other two worked long hours—Danny, finalizing his nursing degree, and Alexander, struggling to build his new law firm—her mom had agreed, allowing Danny to take over the family home. Within two weeks, she’d moved into the Werewolves of Rebellion’s community and was settled in a little house that Frank had given her behind Puppy’s home. It was just big enough for one person, more of an efficiency bungalow, but her mother was happy with it. Plus Beastman had promised to add a small sunroom to it for her when the sale for the property’s energy rights was finalized.

Frank turned onto the lane leading back to the MC. The cherry orchard on one side of the drive had been harvested, but the apple trees on the other were loaded with fruit. Bernadette couldn’t wait to watch the harvest.

They passed the community of bungalow-style houses, the truck bouncing over the dips and shallow ruts of the dirt lane, and started up the slope to the MC, the big two-story Victorian perched on the hilltop like a crown. Bernadette still couldn’t believe the beautiful building was her new home. She wondered if Daffi had a decent place to lay her head at night. Wherever Daffi now lived, Bernadette hoped it was nice.

 

* * *

 

Four thirty—quitting time. With a sigh, Daffi shut down the laptop, returned the unfinished folders to a filing cabinet and locked them in it. She’d discovered three elderly couples who were waiting on payment for their oil and gas rights. Although she hated the thought of telling Ezra about the couples, it was her job to do so and it would please Ezra, keeping her in his good graces. The last time she’d failed him, she had to stay in her room for nearly two weeks before all the bruises he’d given her faded.

Daffi collected her purse, sunglasses and cell phone from her belongings box, waved to her coworkers, who waved back and wished her a nice weekend, then scurried through the complex setup of tables in the courthouse and hurried down the side staircase and out to the little Ford Fusion Ezra had bought her. It was preowned with many miles on the engine, but it was clean, well maintained and it was even her favorite color—sapphire. It was one of the many reason she didn’t mind being one of Ezra’s sweetbutts. Crow had never given her anything more than food, a room she shared with five other sweetbutts and only enough cash to buy monthly toiletries, cheap makeup at Dollar General and any clothes she could find at yard sales or on clearance racks. Crow may not have beaten her or any of his other girls, but he was a tight ass when it came to money. Ezra didn’t have a problem taking care of his sheep, but he demanded more than just sex from them. However, Hudson had ten months to serve, so he might change things when he got out of jail…if Ezra didn’t fight him for the MC.

Daffi unlocked her car and got into the hot interior, then started it and rolled the windows down. She had enough money to get a chicken sandwich and a caramel frappe at the McDonald’s a few yards away, so she drove around the next building and out onto the street to quickly pull into the fast-food restaurant’s parking lot.

Minutes later, she had her order and sat at one of the two umbrella tables enjoying her sandwich and drink. The September weather was gorgeous, and as the sun began to drop behind the courthouse, Daffi admired the deep blue sky, wishing that her life could have been different, that she could leave a good mark on the world instead of being someone’s puppet and punching bag. She shrugged and bit into her sandwich, chewing thoughtfully.

“Wish in one hand and shit in the other,” she finally mumbled, “and see which one fills up first.”

A Harley roared through the entrance, drawing her attention. She’d know that patch on the man’s cut anywhere—Werewolves of Rebellion. The biker shut off his Harley and stepped off it. He stood for a moment as he removed his sunglasses and placed them in a pocket under his cut. His chocolate-brown hair, full of unruly curls, caught the evening sun, revealing red and gold highlights. He turned and walked toward the front entrance. At both knees, rips in his faded jeans provided glimpses of pale skin, clumping over the pavement in his riding boots as he approached. A long chain leading from a belt loop around and down into his back pants pocket swung to and fro.

Daffi wasn’t sure which of Frank Nightshade’s men he was, but she sure wouldn’t mind wrapping her legs around his waist one night. He caught her gaze, paused at the door and let his gaze wander over her, then back up to her eyes. “Ma’am,” he said. “Nice evening.”

“It is,” she replied, startled he’d spoken to her so politely.

He let his gaze sweep over her again. Something hard settled over his face. He nodded, once, then walked inside.

Yes, it would be nice if things could be different.

 

Chapter Two

 

Phillip Andrews could barely remember walking into McDonald’s to get his usual large cup of black coffee, his evening ritual after a long day driving a coal bucket for the local mine. Luella usually kept coffee on at the MC, but he needed this little reprieve, a few minutes to himself as he people-watched and occasionally spoke to someone he knew, before he returned to the MC and the chaos of the huge evening meal. Tonight was sweetbutt night, but once he saw the tall, lanky blonde outside at the umbrella table, all thoughts of drinking a fast cup of coffee, eating supper and engaging with one of the single women for a much-needed romp evaporated from his head.

He sat on the far side of the dining area next to the expanse of front windows with his attention on her. Steam puffed from his tall cup of joe, and two tables over, a harried dad pleaded with his toddler son to stop smearing ketchup on the tabletop. Phil knew the woman but couldn’t place her. Her hair fell around her head and neck in one of those A-line bobs so many women favored, and from what he could tell earlier she had either pale green or blue eyes. Damn, she looked familiar. He racked his brain to figure out her identity, but when she gathered her food wrapper and empty cup to stand, her shirt slipped back, pulling tight over her throat and drooping over her shoulders to reveal a brilliant tattoo of tropical palms, flowers and a beach.

Recognition hit him. His mouth dropped open. She couldn’t be the mouthy, shit-stirring sweetbutt who belonged to the Wraithkillers. If he recalled correctly, she was the one who had attacked Bernadette when Frank took her from Crow. This woman wasn’t bony but well fed with all her body’s angles and planes filled out into an enticing form. This woman didn’t have dark hollows around her eyes, and this woman had color in her face instead of looking like a junkie.

He couldn’t remember her name, but that tat said it all.

The blonde picked up her purse and walked past him, unaware of his attention. On her shoulder, two interconnected R’s marred her smooth skin. The River Rebels—an ownership brand. A strange sense of rage rose within Phil. He wanted to hurt the jerk who had branded her like that. Granted, she seemed to be healthier now—looked fantastic, in fact—but it was wrong to own a person.

He gulped down the rest of his cooling coffee, then crumpled the cup and stuffed it into the wastebin a couple feet away.

Outside, Phil mounted his motorcycle, started it, duck-walked it out of the space, then, after checking for traffic, drove out of the lot. With his emotions in a whirlwind, which unsettled him further, he headed out of Rebellion for the MC.

 

* * *

 

At the sound of numerous motorcycles filling the shallow valley below the main house, Bernadette turned to see a dozen bikes making their way up the slope. In moments the riders pulled into the carport to one side, lining their machines up and shutting them off. She’d known for a couple days that the Cadiz chapter would be joining them for tonight’s barbecue, but she hadn’t expected to see women riders too. Normally, the MCs she’d knew, such as the Wraithkillers and the River Rebels, kept their women on the backs of the bikes.

She tried not to stare at the ladies in riding leathers, but she couldn’t help it. They looked sexy in their gear, right down to gloves and kick-ass boots.

“Yes, some chapters of the Werewolves of Rebellion have women riders,” Luella said suddenly by Bernadette’s ear.

She jumped and laughed. “I didn’t mean to stare, but they look awesome.”

“We have a few women, including myself, who can ride,” Luella said, “but it’s up to the lady. Most of us prefer to let our men do the riding so we can snuggle or relax on the back.”

Bernadette couldn’t argue with that. She loved feeling the vibration of Frank’s Harley under her as she pressed her breasts to his cut.

“Plus tonight is sweetbutt night,” Luella explained, “so these get-togethers with other chapters brings in some strange. The guys get tired of the same sweetbutts, so once in a while our MC will visit other chapters too. Sometimes members find their mates this way.” She jostled Bernadette’s shoulder. “Come help me with bringing food out to the picnic area. Puppy and Carol have their hands full with the cold salads and desserts.”

“Okay,” she said. “I’ll be right there.”

As Luella strode to the house, another rumbled drew Bernadette’s attention to Phil, Frank’s second-in-command, motoring up the hill and into the carport. He slowed, his face a mask of anger and confusion, and duck-walked his bike through the bay door of the Nightshade’s Wolves workshop.

She frowned. Judging by the look on Phil’s face, he wasn’t happy about something. Bernadette hoped it wasn’t anything to worry about.

She blew a kiss to Frank, where he stood hammering a heavy peg into the ground for a horseshoe pit. He offered her his I’m-going-to-make-you-scream grin, then winked. Heat flooded her loins. Oh, what that man did to her!

The evening passed with lots of food, including Luella’s prize-winning potato salad that Bernadette couldn’t get enough of, riotous games of cornhole, loud, friendly arguments over horseshoes, chatter from the women in the pavilion, and laughter and shrieks from the pond, where many of the mothers supervised the young children and toddlers.

Bernadette sat in a lawn chair chatting with her mother and Puppy, who was eating a slice of cherry pie. Clapping for Frank, who had won yet another game of horseshoes, she said, “I wish I could eat like you do, Puppy. You must burn a million calories an hour.”

“It’s part of being young,” Bernadette’s mom said. “You can eat whatever you want until you hit about 25, then the body changes.”

Puppy giggled. “In my case, it’s good genes, I guess. My mom is the same way, and she loves her desserts too.”

“Well, I’m going to join Frank,” Bernadette said. “I’ll catch you later or in the morning.” She looked at her mother. “Mom, I’ll be back in a few.”

Her mother shook her head. “I’m ready for bed, honey, so I think I’ll head home. I worked in my flowerbeds most of the day and I’m tired.”

“Let me finish my pie, Mrs. Kelly,” Puppy said, “and I’ll drive you down to your house.”

“I keep telling you to call me Maeve, and thank you for the offer, dear.”

Bernadette stood with her beer in one hand, but when she looked over at the pavilion where she’d seen Frank go, he was no longer there.

“Check in the kitchen,” Puppy advised as she stabbed the last bit of pie on her plate. “Frank probably stashed some of his Dos Equis in the fridge since Ass Crack likes it too and usually guzzles every bottle out of the coolers.”

Leaning over, Bernadette kissed her mother on the cheek. “Night, Mom. Call up to the house if you need anything.”

“Night, honey.”

Nodding, Bernadette headed for the house. She dodged several couples who had paired up and were making their way to the house too. Sweetbutt night happened whenever parents could get their children out of the main house, which was a lot, actually, but tonight there were more women and more interested men. It still embarrassed her to walk in on couples screwing, but no one paid it any mind and Bernadette always looked elsewhere on her way through the rooms of the house.

She entered the sunporch, passing two couples making out with the TV flashing light over their half-naked bodies, the dialog of a Gotham episode following her into the kitchen.

On the kitchen counter lay a Dos Equis cap. So where was Frank?

Murmuring reached Bernadette. Frowning, she listened until she detected the conversation coming from the laundry room. She walked to the partially open door and halted. Between the utility room and the kitchen, a short hall, lined with pantry shelves and full of staples and sundries, funneled the people’s words straight to her. In the living room next to the entryway leading into the kitchen, a woman moaned, followed by the pleasured grunt of a man. Trying to hear who was talking, Bernadette frowned as the couple fucking grew steadily louder. The squeak of a seat cushion grew more rhythmic.

She turned her head to pinpoint whose voices were in the laundry room.

“I don’t know what to do…”

That sounded like Frank, but then she heard a female voice.

“You should talk to her about it.”

That was Luella.

“I know I should…wanted to say thank you for all your ad…”

“We’ve come a long way, Frank, you know that I…”

Frank’s deep chuckle rolled out to Bernadette. “…you always did give the best blowjobs until…”

“Beastman agrees, but now my blowjobs…”

A cold sweat broke out over Bernadette’s body. Frank was letting Luella give him a blowjob? How could he do that? He was her man, not Luella’s. Well, she’d thought he was. What had happened to change his mind about their relationship?

Trembling, she backed away from the door. She had to leave before they found her. Right now, she had to get a grip on herself, find a quiet place—if that were even possible tonight of all nights—and decide whether to confront one or both of them…or pack up and leave. She couldn’t be in a relationship with a man who sought sexual favors from other women.

The room spun, and she gripped the edge of the dining table, closing her eyes to gather her wits.

Boots on the hardwood brought her eyes open. Phil stood staring at her with concern.

“You okay, Bernadette?”

“I…” She gulped. “Yeah, I’m fine. Just shaky and tired. It’s been a really busy day.”

“Can’t say I’m in much of a mood for all the craziness going on outside,” he replied. “I had to break up a fight between two of the youngsters over who won the last cornhole game. Damn lycanthrope testosterone.”

She smiled. Over the past three months, she’d gotten to known Phil better. When she’d first arrived at the Werewolves of Rebellion MC, Phil had made it clear he didn’t approve of her, especially since she wasn’t a lycanthrope, but now they were pretty good friends, and she’d discovered that beneath Phil’s gruff, tough-guy façade, there was a teddy bear of a man, one who had deep thoughts and a deep heart.

“I’m over the racket tonight too,” she said. “I just need…” Tears pricked her eyes, but she blinked them back.

“A stouter drink than beer?” He quirked an eyebrow.

“Yeah, I think I do.”

“Meet me out on the back stoop,” he said. “I’ll find a couple glasses and a bottle of something better than swill water.”

Anything if it would get her out of Frank’s line of sight. If he and Luella emerged from the laundry at that moment, Bernadette didn’t know what she’d do. Maybe punch him and slap her?

Maybe she just needed a friend—one who wasn’t Luella. With a nod, she said, “Okay, I’m not walking through that cock-filled minefield in there”—she jerked a thumb in the direction of the living and family rooms—“so I’ll go out and around the house to the stoop.”

He snorted, then it turned into a low chuckle. “Right.” He stepped around her and paused in the doorway. “I’ll meet you in five.”

 

* * *

 

She’d barely entered her 12 x 12 room, closing the door behind her, when someone knocked.

“Yes?”

The door opened a few inches, and Stickman poked his head into her room. “Daffi, Ezra wants you in his office.”

Fuck. Why couldn’t the bastard give her at least 30 minutes to clean up, change and compose herself before he started his shit about her duties as one of his sheep?

“All right, Sticky.” She said it with calm she didn’t feel. “Let me run a comb through my hair and brush my teeth real quick-like, ’kay?” She knew Stickman had a bit of crush on her. He always treated her nice—well, most of the time—and even gave her little gifts, but the moment Ezra or one of his other right-hand men got too close, Stickman would slap her, talk nasty to her or, sometimes, backhand her so hard she’d end up with a black eye or a split lip. His apologies later were incessant, but it still didn’t change the fact he feared Ezra more than he liked her.

“Well…make it fucking fast, Daffodil. You know how he is.”

She nodded and stepped into the tiny bathroom off her bedroom. It was super-tight quarters, but she and one of the other sheep were the only two of Ezra’s girls who even had a lavatory in their rooms. Quick as she could, Daffi ran a comb through her bob, then brushed her teeth and used mouthwash.

“All done, Sticky honey,” she announced as she exited.

“Good, baby.”

Stickman grasped her elbow and stared down into her face. The man had expressive brown eyes, eyes she could read the instant he was about to knock the shit out of her, but other times those eyes smiled sincerely as she rode his cock.

“Got your paycheck?” he added.

Her heart stuttered and tears burned the backs of her eyes. “Yes.”

“Let’s go.”

Daffi let Stickman escort her through the old tire warehouse converted into a MC complete with a whorehouse, a bar, living quarters and a repair shop. The River Rebels dealt in meth, so their income was good, allowing them to enjoy a nice MC, but the risk of getting busted was too high. She understood why Hudson had gone after Frank Nightshade’s MC, but if he had done his research about the Werewolves of Rebellion beforehand, Hudson would have known the Nightshade clan was a formidable opponent. Sadly, Ezra was taking up where Hudson had left off. So many elderly people would soon become victims of his extortion.

They crossed the ground level, a wide expanse of polished concrete, passing the open-floor plan of the bar and the gaming area, the design pure gearhead stuff right down to hanging motorcycles of various makes and models that glittered and gleamed from their ceiling anchors. Neon signs boasting beer brands, the outlines of naked women, and random words such as Fucking A, Whiskey Drinker and Condoms are for Sissies glowed on the walls, the counter edges, ceiling overhangs and over every doorway. They entered a corridor lined with rooms where the prostitutes lived and worked. The last one at the end of the hall, guarded by one of the prospects whose name Daffi could never remember, boasted a plaque that stated simply—President.

The prospect opened the door a crack and said, “Boss, Stickman’s here with Daffi.”

“Send them in,” came a gruff reply.

The guard swung the door open, waited for them to enter, then closed the door behind them.

Daffi hated dealing with Ezra Jones. As long as his girls worked their asses off for him, he was nice and rewarded them with gifts or a little extra cash here and there. The problem was that Ezra was extremely demanding, and if a girl let up in her duties even the slightest bit, or if a problem arose—whether or not it was her fault—Ezra turned into a demon. The demon side of him scared the shit out of Daffi as well as all the sweetbutts.

“Well, if it isn’t Daffodil Anastasia Moscosky.” Ezra sat behind a wide, shiny cherry desk. He let his gaze sweep over her a couple times. “You’re a mess.”

Daffi tried to keep her voice calm. If Ezra heard a tremor in it, he’d use it to his advantage. One of his many odd quirks was that his girls could never look disheveled or dirty, nor could their clothing be stained, ripped or faded. “I was about to clean up and change, but…” She caught Stickman’s sidelong glance. Without a doubt, Stickman would cuff her later, even if what she was about to say was the truth.

“But?” Ezra raised both eyebrows.

“Stickman insisted I leave immediately to come here.” She smiled, pushing all the sincerity into it that she could. “I did convince him to let me comb my hair and brush my teeth, though.”

Ezra sat back and assessed Stickman quietly. It never ceased to amaze Daffi how Ezra looked like a commonplace guy. He was tall, worked out, keeping his body fit. His green eyes could be mistaken for gray or blue, his sandy-blond hair was always short and neat, and he kept his goatee, only slightly darker than his hair, trimmed, and he never wore anything that showed he was a biker save for the River Rebels cut. She didn’t think the man had any ink except for the MC tat. Otherwise, nothing about him stood out until something disgruntled him. That’s when he changed. She gulped, hoping this time wasn’t one of them.

“I commend you for trying to make yourself presentable, Daffi,” Ezra said, his voice soft.

Oh, shit. She knew that tone.

“Stickman,” Ezra continued.

Beside her, Stickman stiffened.

Ezra narrowed his gaze on the man. “There’s a distinct difference between a sweetbutt wasting time dolling herself up and taking ten minutes to clean up and change clothes.” He settled farther back in the swivel desk chair and raised his arms to rest them behind his head. “How can I enforce my rules if my men don’t help me?”

“I’m sorry, Boss. It won’t happen again.”

Quiet settled over the office. Finally, Ezra stood, walked around the desk to Stickman and punched him square in the nose. “You sure as fuck better not do it again.”

Stickman staggered back against the door, grasping his nose. Blood trickled through his fingers.

“Now get out. You’re on gate duty until further notice.”

With an angry glance at Daffi, Stickman left, and the guard pulled the door shut again.

Before Ezra turned around, Daffi withdrew her paycheck from her purse and held it out. When he faced her, his gaze landed on the check and he smiled.

“Good girl.” Upon checking the backside of the slip, he added, “And you’ve already signed it. Excellent.” He moved over to stand directly in front of her. “Any information?”

She hated having to speak to him in more than a couple words. Something about her slight Russian accent always seemed to turn him on. As quickly as she could and speaking as plainly as she could, she relayed the names and ages of the people who were due mineral rights monies and told him the addresses, which were all on the same ridge.

“You’ve been a very good girl this week, my little Russian Daffodil.” He placed the check on the desktop, then straightened and grasped her by the hips, swinging her around until her ass rested against the edge of the desk.

Her heart thundered painfully. Ezra’s touch burned, the sensation intensely cold, as if someone had rubbed something like Icy Hot or Bengay times one hundred strength on her skin. All the sweetbutts stated the same thing about Ezra whenever they talked among one another. They all feared sex with him.

“Since you’ve been such a good girl,” Ezra murmured as he kissed the place behind her ear, “I’ll have Amanda make an appointment for you to have a day at the salon. But first…” He licked her earlobe, then nipped it. “I’m going to give you a special reward.”

Dismayed, Daffi tried not to stiffen in his arms. If he thought they found him repulsive, he’d beat them during sex. Her stomach plummeted, then clenched in disgust. Nothing about sex with Ezra was nice. She’d be sore for days and feel drained, as if every bit of her strength had been sucked out of her through her pussy. She would still orgasm, which always confused and revolted Daffi.

He pulled her skirt up so that it bunched around her waist. “I’ll give you some spending money too,” he said, somehow slicing through the elastic of her panties. “Buy you some pretty bras and panties.”

With that, he then freed his cock from his jeans, the belt buckle swinging out to graze Daffi’s belly with its cold touch before falling to Ezra’s side. He hiked her up, then settled her on his hard cock, sliding into her in a quick, icy-hot sensation that had Daffi gasping in discomfort mixed with a sexual energy that nearly consumed her with its intensity. She gripped his shoulders as Ezra pumped into her. She waited for the sound he made that sent a frisson of fear through her every time.

Ezra picked up the pace, thrusting into her so fast and hard that she strained her arms to hold on to him. The iciness of him began its trek through her pussy, up through her passage and into her womb. It continued into her lower abdomen one way as it spread through her ass and into her thighs the other. The pressure of Ezra’s hands on her ass cheeks grew steadily harder until Daffi had to bite her lip to keep from crying out. Most likely she’d have the bruise imprints of his fingers on her butt in the morning.

He kept pumping into her, then, as she’d feared, he began a low growl that would soon become a noise that could strike fear in anyone or anything within earshot. Jerking her down on his cock, hard, he then turned and walked to the wall that was bare save for a couple of filing cabinets shoved against it. He braced her back against the paneling.

“I want to hear you scream, Daffodil. Scream like someone is killing you.”

He thrust. His cock hit her cervix. The cold grew worse. He thrust again, this time so hard the back of her head hit the wall. The iciness crept deeper into her body. He thrust a third time, so forcefully that the paneling creaked behind Daffi’s hips. The cool agony inside her burst into an inferno that simultaneously hurt and pleasured her. The coil within her tightened so fast she didn’t have time to brace herself. Her inner muscles began to clench in a semi-rhythmic pattern.

“That’s it, my special girl,” Ezra grunted into her ear. “Let me fuck you until you scream.”

“Ezra…please. I don’t…”

He began pumping into her like a jackhammer. Each time he rammed into her, her hips impacted the wall. The paneling creaked, Daffi moaned and Ezra’s cock hardened even further. She couldn’t do anything except allow him to pummel her and accept the horrifying cold that steadily spread into her body.

As the pleasure-pain built within her core, Ezra’s growls transformed into laughter-like screams, as if something from the depths of hell were trying to claw its way out of him and into her. He kept fucking her harder and harder, and suddenly exhausted, she let him have her. He stiffened abruptly, his cock pulsing inside her, bathing her passage in a combination of fire and ice that knifed through her body and pushed her into the weird, all-consuming orgasm that Ezra always evoked in her. Daffi screamed. She screamed in agony. She screamed in pleasure. Daffi screamed until she was hoarse while the orgasm claimed her body, then left a drained husk in its wake.

“That’s my good girl,” Ezra whispered, pumping the last bit of his cold essence into her.

She leaned her head back, meeting his now-unholy red, glowing eyes. Horror careened through her, but she was helpless to do anything.

“That’s my pretty Russian Daffodil.” He withdrew abruptly from her, stepped back and walked away, placing himself back into his jeans and zipping up.

The floor rose up to meet Daffi. She landed with a thud hard enough to jar her bones, then lay there, spent, drained.

“Don’t lie there long,” Ezra said. “I have a meeting in about 15 minutes.”

Tears slipped over her cheeks. An image of the biker she’d seen at McDonald’s rose in her mind’s eye. For the billionth time, she wished things could be different.

 

Chapter Three

 

Phil toked on his pipe. Puffs of white smoke rose in twirling columns over his head. The aroma of vanilla wafted over to Bernadette. Her dad had smoked a pipe, preferring whiskey tobacco to other blends. She’d sat with Phil for the last hour as he told her about how the dispatcher was a dick with him that day, and she relayed how her mother had freaked when she’d found a salamander in her flower bed early that morning.

“Puppy heard the screaming and ran over to Mom’s house, thinking someone was hurting her,” Bernadette finished.

Laughter burst from Phil. “I would have liked to have seen that.”

They sat in companionable silence for a few minutes. Folks began gathering lawn chairs and blankets as they prepared to turn in for the night. The MC chapter that had arrived that afternoon retired to tents they’d pitched on the flat lawn between the house and the vegetable garden.

Bernadette thought back on the discussion she’d overheard between Frank and Luella in the laundry room. Maybe she was making more of it than there was. She had a past, had dated a few men, and Frank had surely been with several women besides Luella.

So why did what she’d overheard still bother her?

Smoky air gusted from Phil. He puffed hard on the pipe stem, the red embers in the bowl brightening.

“What’s wrong?” she asked.

“Nothing.”

“Don’t tell me that. I have four older brothers, so I know when something is bothering a guy. You all have the same telltale signs.”

He toked on his pipe some more, the tobacco glowing even redder. “Saw that sweetbutt from Crow’s MC today, the one you got into the scrap with.”

“So did I.”

He removed the pipe from his mouth and stared directly at her, the back stoop light casting half his face in blue-white illumination.

“She works in the auditor’s office,” she explained. “Some sort of data-entry job.” She met Phil’s dark eyes. “What about her?”

“She’s been branded with the River Rebels’ mark,” he said.

“Yeah, I noticed.”

He turned away and sucked viciously on the pipe stem. The clouds he expelled looked as though they were coming from a train’s smokestack.

“Why does it bother you so much?” she asked.

“I don’t know.” He kept puffing. “It just fucking does.”

“Yeah…” She thought about her reaction to the brand when she’d seen it. “It bothered me too. I asked Frank about the branding, and he said it’s not uncommon for one-percenters to mark their sheep like the actual animal.”

“He’s right.” Phil straightened and leaned his back flat against the door. “Even some lycanthrope MCs do it, but we don’t. Never have. The Werewolves of Rebellion believe women are partners, equals… Hell, in some ways women are stronger than men.”

“That belief is one of the reasons I fell in love with the people here,” she admitted.

At that, he offered her a genuine smile, something Phil rarely did. The fact she’d inspired him to smile so big and wide gave her a warm, fuzzy feeling.

She harbored no ill feelings toward Daffi, which surprised her, but when she started to share that with Phil, something poked at her senses, drawing her attention to the black tree line. There, just to the corner of the garden, the darkness possessed a slight shimmer. She smiled and rose.

“I’ll be back,” she told Phil. “Scary Mary is here.”

“Where?”

She pointed.

“I know you’re a good person, Bernadette,” he began, “but I have to say that some of the things you’ve been able to do the past three months scare the fucking shit out of me.”

“Always remember it isn’t wise to piss off a woman,” she countered, “especially a witch.”

Shock registered on his face, his mouth falling open.

“Damn, Phil!” She held up one hand in a placating manner. “I’m kidding, jeez!”

“Thank God,” he mumbled as she walked away. “It’s bad enough to deal with a pissed-off she-wolf.”

She giggled as she strode toward the shimmering at the yard’s edge, her feet growing wet from the heavy dew. Upon reaching the area, she called out, “What’s up, Mary?”

The glittering in the air rippled like water a stone had been tossed into, then Mary’s image solidified. She stepped out of the tree line with a lit clove cigarette between her thick lips, her eyes shining in the lights cast from the house and nearby party lights strung around the back lawn.

“I have to leave for a couple days,” the African American woman said, her voice gruff but oddly melodious. “We had tomorrow earmarked to work on your latest ability, but something has come up that I need to attend to, so I’ll be back Monday, Tuesday at the latest.”

“Anything I can help with?” Bernadette asked, disappointment filling her voice. She tried to camouflage it but failed miserably.

“Aw, honey. Don’t worry. You’ll get those lessons. I’m curious to see how strong your maneuverability power is too.” Mary grinned. “Mine’s pretty strong, but I wager yours will put mine to shame—and no, you can’t help me on this case. It’s more investigation than anything right now, but if I need your help, I’ll ask.”

“All right.” Relieved Mary wasn’t shutting her out of the matter, Bernadette couldn’t help smiling back at the older woman. Over the last few weeks, they’d developed a close bond, one where Mary had admitted, albeit grudgingly as was her way, that although they hadn’t known each other long, she considered Bernadette to be the daughter she’d never had.

Mary drew on her hand-rolled fag, then blew out a cloud of spicy-smelling smoke. “Besides, if something does happen to come up, I’ll contact you.”

“You don’t even own a cell phone,” Bernadette pointed out.

Throwing back her head, Mary let loose with a loud burst of laughter. “Honey, you’d think you’d realize there are ways of sending messages without technology.”

Heat crept into her cheeks. “Oh, right.”

“I’ll let you know when I’m back,” Mary said, waving as she backed into the woods and vanished.

Bernadette headed back to the house. Halfway there, she paused to remove her flip-flops, which were soaked with condensation. Carrying them with her, she approached the stoop to find Frank sitting with Phil.

“Hi, babe,” she said. “How’d you do in the horseshoe tournament?”

“Not bad,” he replied with a smile. “I won a six-pack of Dos Equis. Good thing too, because Ass Crack won’t stay out of mine. Might put him on gate duty to teach him a lesson for drinking all of mine.”

Phil snorted. “That’ll do it.”

“Ready to turn in?” Frank asked Bernadette.

“Yeah.” She looked at Phil. “Thanks for chilling with me this evening.”

He raised his beer bottle to her. “Any time.”

Taking her hand, Frank shot Phil a perplexed look that steadily turned suspicious then finally fierce, possessive.

“Night, Frank,” Phil said.

Frank looked from Phil to Bernadette, then his expression softened, as if he’d shrugged away a disturbing thought. “Night.”

Phil scooted to the side so they could go in through the back door. He shut it behind them as they made their way into the living room, where groans and soft cries embarrassed Bernadette. She hid her face in Frank’s side until they reached the base of the stairs. He kept his arm around her waist as they climbed to his room. Once there, he pulled her inside, kicked the door shut and pushed her over to the bed, where he immediately began undressing her.

He tugged the V-neck T-shirt over her head and tossed it somewhere in the room. Nuzzling her neck, he then unfastened her bra and groaned in approval as her large breasts spilled into his palms. “Damn, I love your tits, baby,” he murmured.

Gooseflesh ghosted her skin and she giggled softly. “Are you still gonna love them 20 years from now when they’re not so perky?”

“I’ll love them when they hang to your knees,” he said against her ear.

“Eew!” She swatted his shoulder with its beautiful wolf ink.

His answering deep chuckle speared her core. Lord, how she loved to hear him laugh.

“I’ll even lie under you while you do dishes or laundry so I can suck on them,” he added.

“Holy shit, Frank!” She swatted him again.

Laughing harder, he pushed her back on the bed until she lay flat, then set to work removing her capris, then her panties.

“I love you, Bernadette,” he said. “When are you going to realize I mean it?”

At that, the worries about what she’d heard in the laundry room faded, then vanished. “I know you do,” she replied, “but images of my boobs drooping to my knees is gross. It makes me want to do a gazillion bench presses.”

Another deep belly-laugh laugh greeted her as he stood and shucked his clothes. Before she could say anything else, his weight jostled the bed and he wedged a knee between her thighs. Reacting to Frank’s supernatural side, her power simmered under her skin.

“I want you,” he said. “Right now.”

“Me too.”

“Are you sure you’re ready?” he asked.

“See for yourself.”

He slipped one hand between her legs and delved his fingers into her folds. She gasped at the sensation, raising her hips to push his fingers deeper.

“You’re more than ready, aren’t you?” he drawled.

“Shut up and make love to me.”

The moonlight spilling through the window revealed his face and chiseled the lines and planes of his body. The sight of him stoked the fire growing in her pussy. “Frank, please.”

“I love it when you beg,” he said.

Moving his other knee between her thighs, he settled his body over hers. Bernadette loved the heat and hardness of his form pressing into her, pinning her to the mattress. The head of his cock parted her folds and rested at her opening.

“Frank, stop teasing—”

He entered her in one thrust. A cry left her lips, and she rolled her head back, arching her chest and simultaneously hooking her heels over the backs of his thighs.

“Ungh!” He stilled as he got a grip on himself. “Sweetheart, the things you do to me…”

The spring deep in her core steadily tightened as he pushed into her all the way to his base, his cock nudging her cervix, the girth of him unexpected but pleasurable. She waited for her body to adjust to the intrusion. His heart beat so rapidly that it vibrated her breasts. Already she wanted to come, the full feeling so wonderful that she knew if she moved, she’d be lost.

“I love how you respond to me,” he whispered. “You’re already starting to spasm. Fuck, you fit me like a glove, baby.”

His words spurred her onward. Before he could thrust, she pumped her hips once, twice, three times and the coil within her broke. The rippling and clenching in her passage shot ecstasy through her loins, into her lower belly, and tingled through her pussy. Frank grunted as she climaxed, his breathing rapid and heavy. Spent, she slowly came down from her high only to have him begin thrusting in earnest. She tightened her heels behind his thighs and clasped him around his flanks, urging one of his delicious lycanthrope growls from deep within him. He pumped harder, scooting her up the mattress with his thrusts, the thin blankets bunching around her shoulders. Still, he plunged into her until they reached the top of the bed, where she knew from countless times before that she had to hold on or he’d bang her skull off the headboard.

He tucked his face in her neck and kept pounding into her. Soon, that deep spot within Bernadette tightened and pulsed again. Frank kept fucking her until all she could do was hang on and let him have total control as her body responded, reaching for that beautiful leaping point. Finally, he stiffened and his cock pulsed for a long moment. Heat bathed her insides, then she shattered, yelling and jerking with the intensity of a second orgasm until she finally buried her face in the pillows next to her and screamed louder as the sensations overwhelmed her body. After a long moment, she relaxed and lay gasping for air as little aftershocks ran through her pussy and into her inner thighs.

“Mine,” Frank said.

“Yours,” she gasped.

He rolled off her and spooned her ass, laying one heavy arm over her hip.

“I love you,” she whispered.

Behind her, Frank’s breathing rapidly deepened, then sleep claimed Bernadette too.

 

* * *

 

The screams brought Bernadette out of a sound sleep. Heart flailing, she sat straight up and reached for Frank, who had already leaped out of the bed and stood naked in the moonlight. The screams continued, and finally she pinpointed the source of the sound—the backyard. More shouts from the chapter campsite erupted in the night, followed by more screams and crying.

Frank strode over to the window and peered out. “I can’t see much of anything.” He stepped over to the foot of the bed, scooped up his jeans and jerked them on. “Stay here.”

Bare-chested and barefoot, he left the room. Before he shut the door, Bernadette caught sight of several members rushing past it on their way downstairs. She threw back the covers and rushed to the window. The light from the stoop flooded the backyard to the first small tent. Bernadette had seen the biker set it up earlier that evening. He’d been the only single guy to travel here with the chapter. Several of his fellow riders stood around the tent. A flashlight glowed inside it.

Frank rushed out the back door, the light revealing his tattooed shoulder and sleeves in vivid color.

“Tony’s dead, Frank!” a guy cried. “He’s… he’s… Fuck, someone drained the life out of him.”

As a cool wind wafted up from the pond to caress her face, Bernadette bit her lip. Something was dreadfully wrong. Something that awoke her power, forcing it to rise so fiercely that she fought the urge to vomit.

Evil.

 

* * *

 

Phil backed out of the tent and staggered away from it, his mind reeling at what he’d just seen and his guts knotting so that he fought not to puke. He met Erica’s eyes, and she nodded to him, once. Erica had found Tony Edwards. Phil liked Erica Smithy. She was one of the MC’s newest sweetbutts, a pretty, good-natured, tiny thing who worked in the office of the local grocery store. She’d moved here with her mother, who had passed away recently. She’d gotten to know a few of the single women at the MC and had decided she liked it and their little community, so she’d gradually become a member. She seemed to have a big appetite for sex, always showing up on sweetbutt nights, but the young guys loved her, so it worked out.

The back door flew open and Frank jogged across the lawn. Phil motioned for Erica to come to him. She snuggled against his side. Wrapping his arm around her shoulders, he walked with her into the light.

“What the hell is going on out here?” Frank barked.

“Tell Frank what happened,” Phil said. “It’s okay.”

“I found Tony,” Erica said, grabbing Frank’s attention. She shivered in Phil’s embrace as he walked her closer to his MC president. “We’d made plans to meet in his tent after midnight, but when I crawled into Tony’s tent”—she shut her eyes and more tears leaked from under them—“it was dark and he felt…strange.”

“Strange how?” Frank asked.

“Hard, papery.”

The chapter members murmured and whispered among themselves.

“What?” Frank frowned at Erica.

She nodded. “Hard and papery. He said he’d leave a flashlight by the tent flap, so I flicked it on and…”

She buried her face in Phil’s shirt and burst into tears. Phil rubbed her back up and down, wishing he could take away the image she’d seen.

“What the fuck did you see?” Frank growled.

Erica kept her face against Phil’s chest but pointed at the tent. “Tony is all dried up like… like a mummy!”

“Bullshit!” Frank stared hard at Phil.

“It’s true,” he said. “Why else would everyone here be scared shitless? Go see for yourself.”

They waited while Frank kneeled, then poked his head inside where the flashlight still glowed. “Holy fuck!” He backed out of the tent and hauled himself to his feet where he swayed slightly. “How am I supposed to explain this to the authorities?” he asked no one in particular. He raked his fingers through his tousled hair and stood quietly for a couple minutes, his eyes wide and illuminated to show his disbelief.

“Boss,” Phil prompted, still rubbing Erica’s back, “what do you want to do about this?”

“First, everyone get moved into the house. Double up in beds, sleep on the floor…just make sure everyone has a spot to sleep tonight. I don’t want to take the chance of this—whatever the fuck it is—happening again tonight.” He looked at the tent and seemed to realize Tony was still in there, jerked in obvious repulsion and moved closer to Phil. “Make sure everyone takes their personals inside with them, because the sheriff’s department won’t release anything until their investigation is finished. I’ll call Officer Williamscot’s personal number first, then we’ll proceed from there.”

“You heard him, people. Get your shit and move into the MC for the night,” Phil hollered.

“Can I go home?” Erica looked up into Phil’s face, her baby blues watery and full of fear.

“No,” Frank answered. “The authorities will want to question you, so you better stay in the MC too.”

Luella had been standing near the edge of the carport taking it all in. “Come with me, honey,” she said. “We’ll put on some coffee and hang out in the kitchen.”

“Go on,” Phil told the young woman. “Luella will take good care of you.”

Erica offered him a sad expression, flicked her gaze up at Frank, then nodded and walked over to Luella, who placed an arm around Erica’s shoulders. She escorted Erica around the corner of the house to the sunporch.

“Fuck me sideways,” Frank grumbled and ran his hand through his hair again.

“This doesn’t look good so soon after Hudson’s Claiming and Maiming.” Phil sucked in a big breath as the enormity of the situation struck him. “Although Bloodbath was a sociopath, he was still killed here. Tony’s death is too close to Bloodbath’s demise—it’s been what? Three months ago now?—and both deaths happened right here on the same lawn.”

“I’m not so much worried about the sheriff’s department as I am Tony’s family and the fact the other chapter members were here when this happened.”

“What do you mean?” Phil asked. His inner voice was yammering that things were about to go tits up for the Werewolves of Rebellion.

“What if Tony’s family somehow tries to sue us, or worse”—he leaned close so only Phil would hear him—“the chapter decides to abdicate, then come after us?”

Startled, Phil pulled back and stared hard at his president and friend. “Would they really do that?”

Frank lifted a shoulder. “They could. Our lycanthrope rules govern all clans, not just the MCs.”

“Shit.”

“Exactly,” Frank replied.

 

Chapter Four

 

Monday, Phil parked his coal truck in the company lot, finished the paperwork, then headed to McDonald’s for his usual large black coffee. As he rode his Harley into Rebellion, he reflected on the pandemonium-filled weekend. Poor Bernadette looked exhausted, and since he’d stayed by Frank’s side while the authorities roamed the surrounding lawns, barns, outbuildings, and in and out of the MC, he knew Frank had had no time with his mate. Everyone knew Bernadette was a natural witch. However, he hadn’t missed a few fearful looks tossed her way during the investigation.

Tony’s body had been sent to Columbus for a thorough autopsy, but Phil suspected the results would come back with more questions than answers. Folks deep in the Appalachians knew there were things that went bump in the night—hell, he was one of them—but whatever had drained Tony down to mummified skin and tissue stretched over his bones had left the two clans scared shitless.

He waited for the light to turn green, then drove through the square to the McDonald’s half a block down. The MC was still touchy over the Claiming and Maiming last July. It had taken them all summer to repair the damage to homes, and there were still things that needed to be fixed or rebuilt such as Carol’s little greenhouse and Tractor’s tool shed. Anytime now, Frank would have the money from the property’s mineral and energy rights. Hopefully the money would help everyone relax. Frank was giving each family and mated couple ten grand, which was another example of the big heart the guy had, and each single person would get a chunk of change, too, so once the funds paid past-due bills, stocked up cupboards and pantries, and covered much-needed things such as some college expenses for the youngsters entering higher schooling, everyone would chill out and feel they had a grip on their lives again.

But Tony’s death had thrown a wrench into everything, frightening the women and rattling the men. What on earth could’ve sucked Tony dry like that? Hell, he wasn’t sure he wanted to know.

Phil pulled into a parking space, shut his baby down, then strolled inside, where the girl who usually worked the late shift spotted him and began pouring him a big cup full of his evening nectar.

“Here you go,” she announced as he reached the counter.

“Thanks, Kadie. You’re a doll.” He paid the girl, not missing the way she looked at him. She was cute, but way too young for him. Accepting his change and picking up his coffee, he said, “Have a nice evening.”

“How about a movie?” she asked.

He froze, never dreaming she’d have the guts to ask him out. “How old are you, honey?”

“Eighteen.”

“I’m 33.”

“So?” She grinned wider.

“So, I like my women a little older, that’s all.”

She pouted. “Well, I like my men a little older.”

“Kadie, get back to work,” the manager groused as he walked through.

She wiggled her fingers at Phil in farewell, then focused on the next customer.

He sat on one side of a partition wall and sipped on his coffee as he flipped through the Enterprise newspaper someone had left on the table. A flash of bright blue caught the corner of his eye, and he looked up in time to see a blue Ford Fusion pull into one of the parking spots. A leggy blonde stepped out of it, the same blonde he’d seen here the other day, the one with the River Rebels brand on her shoulder. Again, fury ripped through him at the knowledge someone had burned their mark on her like she was no more than a cow or a horse.

She entered the main dining room. Phil kept the newspaper at a level where he could see over it and not draw attention to himself should she look his way. The sounds of people talking, the cries of a baby in the side dining room, the pings and beeps in the kitchen and the chatter of employees faded as Phil concentrated on the blonde with the longest damn legs he’d ever seen. Beautiful legs. Legs that reminded him of a foal’s but with all the right dips and curves without being too skinny or too muscled. He could imagine those legs wrapped around his hips as he thrust into her, he could—he snapped back to himself. What the hell am I thinking? He didn’t dare tangle with a sweetbutt who belonged to another MC unless he had permission.

That thought struck him with force. The woman was seven kinds of fine and he could never ask her out, never steal a kiss. Shit, he couldn’t even hold her hand without permission from the current River Rebels president.

She paid for her purchase, which looked like a dollar sandwich and a smoothie, and strode in his direction. Quickly, he raised the paper and waited with bated breath, convinced she’d seen him ogling her. Instead, she sat on the other side of the partition where he couldn’t see her, but he could hear her talking with another woman.

“You look tired,” the other woman said. “Did Ezra get hold of you again?”

“Yeah, Friday after work. He thought that since I had my paycheck signed and ready for him that I deserved a reward.” A sigh followed, one that told Phil she was utterly disgusted. “Every time he”—she lowered her voice, and Phil strained his ears to her—“fucks me, I feel like I’m half-dead for two or three days afterward.”

“Yeah, we all feel the same way, but he’ll never leave us alone.”

“Do you ever wish things could be different, Jess?”

“What do you mean?” the other woman asked.

“Well, do you ever wonder if it’s possible to get away from the club, meet a great guy, get married and maybe have a kid or two?”

Jess giggled. “Yeah, right. Like a good man would want MC whores.”

Silence followed.

“Oh, Daffi. I’m sorry. You’re serious, aren’t you?”

He lowered the newspaper. Daffi! That was her name. But when she replied to her friend, he wanted to rip the table, bolts and all, up out of the floor and kill someone with it. What was this Ezra dude doing to her and the other women that made them feel this way?

“I’ve been passed from one owner to another so often that I find myself wondering what could have been if my mom hadn’t been killed. Lately, I’ve thought a lot about what it would be like to escape the club and start a new life somewhere else, but without any money, without anyone to turn to—”

“It’s pointless,” Jess said.

“Yeah,” Daffi said softly. “Worse, no one cares. No one knows what it’s like to be a sweetbutt or someone’s property.”

A sniff reached Phil and he struggled not to jump up, grab both women and take them to the Werewolves of Rebellion where they’d be safe and cared for. If he did, he’d start a war of epic proportions between the MCs.

“We can’t chill long, Jess. Another shipment is coming in tonight.”

Phil perked up, expecting to hear information about meth or some other drug being trafficked through the area. Their contacts in the county sheriff’s department had been working for two years to nail the supplier.

“Fuck, I hate it when they bring in the ones who can’t speak English,” Jess stated. “It’s ten times harder to calm them when they can’t understand a word you’re saying.”

The sip of coffee Phil had just taken suddenly turned foul in his mouth. He straightened and set his cup down. Can’t speak English? They were talking about people. The River Rebels were involved in human trafficking! Everyone in Rebellion and the surrounding areas had heard the rumors over the past several months, but that was all they’d seemed to be—rumors.

“I know what you mean,” Daffi replied. “When my mom and I were sold into human trafficking, we were scared shitless. Mom knew a little English, so she caught on quickly, but it took me longer to learn the language.”

“Wait, you were sold?”

“Yeah, when I was eight. Mom thought she was leaving Russia for the States to start a new life, but she didn’t realize she’d fallen for a big lie. She thought she was paying for ship fare, a room for me and her, and a few English lessons, but it was just assholes who were stealing her money and selling both of us into the sex trade.”

“So that’s why you have a little accent from time to time,” Jess said.

“I’m told it’s sexy, but when it mixes with the Appalachian twang, I just sound weird.” She laughed sadly.

The sounds of someone shifting in a chair penetrated the partition, and Jess stepped into view. Phil raised his newspaper and made a display of turning to the next page. The woman barely spared him a glance.

“I’ll meet you at the MC,” she told Daffi. “If Ezra asks, I’ll tell him you got out of work a little late, but that you were right behind me.”

“Thanks.”

Jess, a short, compact, black girl, strode out of the dining room in a white skort and bright pink peasant blouse, her pale pink, strappy heels giving her an extra three inches. She walked away as if she owned the place. Phil studied her as she crossed the lot to a silver Kia that was well maintained from the looks of it, but still showed its age through its model and year. The young woman acted like she had plenty of attitude, but Phil would bet his last dollar it was all a façade to protect herself from the harsh reality she lived in.

More movement on the other side of the wall had him jerking the newspaper up in front of him again.

Daffi rose, catching her purse strap in one hand and the rest of her smoothie in the other. She stepped back, caught her heel, and stumbled, nearly sprawling out on the floor as her stiletto broke cleanly off the shoe.

“Shit!”

“You okay?”

She looked over at a man who was pure sex on legs. She’d seen the same guy last week when she’d stopped for her usual.

“I caught and broke my heel on the table leg.” She looked wistfully at the damage. “And these were my best pair of stilettos too.”

“There’s a cobbler over on Marietta Street.”

His voice inspired images of dark chocolate, a crackling fire and thoughts she knew better than to entertain. She shook herself. “A what?”

“A person who fixes shoes.”

“Oh. I thought that place closed?” Why was she even talking to him? If the wrong person saw her, Ezra would hand her ass to her before she could blink.

He shrugged. “I have no idea. Just noticed it one day a while back and thought I’d mention it.”

Lord, he had such pretty eyes. Deep brown with amber flecks. She’d bet $20 she didn’t have that they turned darker when he was having sex.

She took off her other shoe and tucked the pair under one arm. “Well, see you round.”

“I’m Phil,” he said, folding the paper and shooting her a sidelong glance. “Phillip Andrews.”

“Daffodil Anastasia Moscosky,” she said, suddenly shy. Me? Shy? When the fuck did that happen? She let her gaze wander over his strong features from his high forehead where a few stray curls lay, to a strong nose with a slight arch in it, to his wide cheekbones and firm jawline. His goatee gave him an air of sophistication despite his work attire and heavy biker boots. “But everyone calls me Daffi.”

“Nice to meet you, Daffodil.”

She liked how he used her given name instead of the shortened version. Phil seemed to genuinely like talking with her, instead of flattering or talking dirty to her to get sex. Or just demanding she bend over or spread her legs. With a fast look around the dining rooms, she decided a couple more minutes with him wouldn’t hurt anything.

“I remember you,” she said finally. “You were at Crow’s MC to”—she lowered her voice—“swap that sweetbutt for that…crate.”

“Yep.” He nodded to one side of her. “When were you sold?”

Shit. He’d seen the brand. So much for keeping his interest. Who was she kidding? He was just being nice. Everyone knew the Werewolves of Rebellion was a good MC. They didn’t buy, make or sell drugs, guns…or people. They took care of their own, even had a community established that was part of their MC. She tipped her head to one side as she gave him another once-over. Phil sure was handsome, tall and lanky but not in a gangly way. More like a big-framed way, as if hidden strength lurked in that body. Sadly, she’d never know.

“I go where I have to so I can survive,” she said so low she wasn’t sure he’d hear her. “It was nice talking to you, Phil.” With that, she turned and walked away. Hot tears stung her eyes, and by the time she reached her Focus, she could barely see to dig her keys out of her purse and unlock the driver’s door.

A sob wrenched free as she finally managed to stick the key in the lock and open the door. As she was about to throw herself down into the seat, someone’s warm, firm hand landed on her upper arm and turned her around.

“Hey,” Phil said, looking down into her face. “Are you okay?”

“Go away,” she snapped. If there was a God, she wished he would send Phil back into the building. If one of Ezra’s men saw her with him, Phil would get hurt and Ezra would punish her—severely.

“I’m not letting go until you tell me what’s wrong,” he stated.

From the way he spoke, Daffi knew he wouldn’t take no for an answer. “Look,” she began, “you seem like a cool guy and you’re really nice, but I’m one of Ezra’s sheep now. As long as I do my job well and without complaint, he takes care of me. If someone sees us together, even just talking, we’ll both pay for it—and you know it.”

“I heard what you and your friend discussed on the other side of the wall.”

She gaped up at him. Fuck, I’m a dead woman.

“Hey, I won’t cause any trouble…for you,” he said. “But I can’t go to sleep at night knowing there are people being sold as sex slaves.”

When she didn’t reply, he released her arm and stroked a thick lock of hair back out of her face that had come loose when she’d stumbled.

“Are they mostly women?”

She said nothing, her heart pounding so hard she thought she might pass out.

“You don’t have to tell me,” he said. “Just nod once for yes and blink once for no.”

She gave him a slight nod.

“I’ll see what I can do to help.”

“There’s nothing you can do.” She tossed her purse across to the passenger seat, followed by her shoes. She shut her eyes for a few seconds in an attempt to gather her wits. Behind them, traffic passed, the tires of each vehicle whirring over the pavement. Somewhere a little dog barked. Up the street, the squeal of tires sliced through the square. Something about this guy rattled her right down to her bones, a good rattle, one that told her that he meant what he said. Oh, to have an escape, to be able to—no, he was giving her false hope. “You don’t know Ezra.”

“No, I don’t.” His smooth, bedroom voice rolled over her in a blanket of velvet. “I don’t even recall hearing his name when the Werewolves of Rebellion were dealing with Hudson’s shit. Where’d he come from? He certainly wasn’t Hudson’s second-in-command, was he?”

“I’m not telling you anything else except for”—she straightened and darted her gaze around, suddenly fearful River Rebel eyes and ears were everywhere—“that Ezra isn’t right.”

“What do you mean?”

“He’s not like other people. He’s creepy.”

“Like how?”

“I’ve said enough. We can’t ever talk to each other again. Bye, Phil.” She climbed into her car, shut the door and started the engine, keeping the windows up so he couldn’t talk to her. Backing out, she kept her gaze on the parking lot. If she took one last look at him, she might run back to him and beg him to make her his.

And wouldn’t that cause so much pain for so many people.

 

* * *

 

Phil hurried over to his Harley. Within moments, he sped out onto the street. If he stayed back far enough, he might be able to follow Daffodil without her noticing—at least he hoped so. There was no way he could go on with his life with the knowledge that he hadn’t alerted the authorities to the people being smuggled through the River Rebels’ compound. Women and young girls were shipped overseas as well as across the nation to fulfill the twisted needs of buyers. Some would be sent to pimps. Others would find themselves in the hands of sadistic monsters. He knew there was a demand for young boys, too, so if this Ezra guy wasn’t already dealing them, he would be soon.

This had to be stopped. First, though, he had to see for himself what was going on.

But scouting out the River Rebel’s MC was foolhardy without someone to watch his back. He didn’t have time to call Ass Crack, Tom or even Beastman right now. If he waited for someone to join him, he might lose Daffodil.

And fuck if the leggy blonde didn’t turn him on. He didn’t care if she’d been a sweetbutt her entire life. She needed someone to take care of her.

She needed him.

 

Chapter Five

 

“Why do you have to meet Scary Mary so late?” Frank asked.

Bernadette looked up from tying her sneakers where she sat on the sunporch. “It’s not late, babe. It’s not even eight yet. Supper is done and cleaned up, everyone is chilling… What’s bothering you?”

“It’s getting dark.”

“That’s because we’re heading into autumn.” She stood and picked up the flashlight on the windowsill by the screen door.

“Can’t you call her or something? Tell her you’ll meet her in the morning?”

She looked at him, really studied his expression, his eyes. Unease resided there. “Babe? What is it?”

He shrugged, then raked one hand through his hair. If the man didn’t stop his habit of pulling his fingers through his hair, he was going to go bald. She grinned. Even bald, he’d be sexy.

“Just take the 9mm I gave you,” he said.

She raised her shirt and showed him the shoulder holster. “I even loaded it with silver-coated bullets just to be on the safe side.”

“And Steven is going with you.”

Frustrated, Bernadette groaned. “Frank, he already thinks I’m going to eat him alive. Ever since Tony’s death, some members look at me like I had something to do with it.” Realization smacked her in the face. “Oh, wait. Is that what’s bothering you? That someone might hurt me because they think I’m using black magic?”

“That’s a big part of it, yes.” He leaned against the doorframe.

“And the other part?”

He shook his head. “I don’t know. It’s just… Well, something isn’t right.”

“I know what you mean.”

He straightened and crossed his arms over his chest. “You do?”

Nodding, she took a spare windbreaker off one of the coat pegs by the porch door. “Something is…off. Whenever I’m in the presence of magic or someone’s supernatural power rises—such as when your wolf is piqued—my power rises, too, and it feels like I have hot water simmering beneath my skin. Whatever is causing it comes and goes.”

“Then that’s all the more reason you should stay in this evening,” he said, reaching for her.

“Frank, the more I learn about my abilities, the more I can help protect your clan.”

“Our clan,” he said.

She stared up into his onyx eyes. If only she could erase the worry lines etched into his forehead, show him that she was now perfectly capable of taking care of herself. “Okay, babe?”

His gaze bored into her, his eyes flaring amber as he struggled with his inner wolf. He blinked, released her, then stepped back to lean through into the kitchen and holler, “Steven, get your ass out to the sunporch.”

The prospect appeared within seconds, but upon seeing Bernadette, he sobered. “What’s up, Boss?”

“Bernadette has to go see Scary Mary this evening, and I want you to escort her to the woman’s cabin.”

The guy looked uncomfortable, even scared. “Uh…could you get someone else to do it?”

Frank sighed. “Look, Bernadette did not kill Tony. She didn’t have a hand in it at all, and Scary Mary isn’t bad. Have you forgotten that Mary saved Bernadette, Puppy and the other women the day of the Claiming and Maiming? And that Bernadette helped kick Bloodbath’s ass? If she hadn’t thrashed him with her magic, Bloodbath would’ve gotten the upper hand on me and I probably wouldn’t be here standing in front of you right now.”

With trepidation, Steven looked Bernadette up and down, then said, “All right.”

“Take a weapon,” Frank told him. “Bernadette has one on her too.” He looked at Bernadette, his expression stern. “Don’t be long. If you’re not back by ten, I’ll come looking you.”

“That doesn’t give me much time to—”

“I mean it!”

She startled at his ferocity. “All right.”

He drew her into his arms and hugged her, placing his chin on top of her head. “I don’t mean to be a jerk, sweetheart. I’m following my instincts, and they tell me you need to be careful.”

“I hear you.” Pulling out of his grasp, she shot a glance at Steven. “Let’s go.”

 

The door slammed behind Daffi. Shit, she’d forgotten the hydraulic had been removed. The slam reverberated throughout the MC. Behind the bar counter, Ezra looked her way, and her heart dropped to join her stomach where it had bottomed out.

“Daffodil Anastasia,” Ezra called. “So nice of you to join us.”

Trembling swept through her body. Any time Ezra used her given name, she knew she was going to receive punishment for something. As Ezra left the bar and strode toward her, she began her trek across the open floor to him. If she made him walk all the way to her, whatever punishment he had in mind would be doubly bad. She mustered bravado she didn’t feel and resigned herself to either getting backhanded across the face or knocked down and kicked a few times. She hoped it wasn’t the latter.

“You have been a bad girl, my Russian beauty,” Ezra drawled.

Passing one of the lounging areas, Daffi caught sight of Jess sitting next to Stickman. He offered her an apprehensive look, and Jess mouthed the words I’m sorry to her.

“Yes, Jess told me you’d be late,” Ezra stated as he caught the exchange. “But you knew this was a delivery night, so you should have made excuses to your coworkers and left on time. The delivery just arrived, so the merchandise is already screaming and crying.” He stopped in front of Daffi, standing toe-to-toe with her. Without her usual high heels, he towered over her like a sequoia. “So, my pretty girl, what punishment do you deserve for your negligence?”

As Daffi stared up into his eyes, she almost told him to kill her, to just end her life because she truly didn’t care anymore. She didn’t care because she had no hope. She didn’t care because one more beating wouldn’t push her into submission any further than she already was, nor would it force her to want to please him. All she wanted was for this shit life to end so she could have peace. Maybe in the next life she would find happiness.

But, after all the shit she’d done to stay alive, she’d probably burn in hell regardless, so nothing mattered. She certainly didn’t, and neither did the poor women who were somewhere in the back of the building shivering in cages and crates.

“Well, Daffodil?”

Her resignation settled over her in a cold sweat. “Do whatever you feel is necessary.”

He blinked. Surprise slid across his face.

She didn’t even have time to brace herself. He punched her square in the face. Pain blossomed in her cheek and sliced through her nose, arrowing right up into her sinuses and behind her eyes until she thought her eyeballs would explode from their sockets. She wasn’t sure, but it felt like her teeth actually rattled. Something hard and unyielding struck her backside and her head. Gradually, she was aware she was lying on the floor, but the boot to her ribs several times forced her to curl into the fetal position. More pain stabbed her over and over. Jess’ cries reached her, as well as Stickman’s orders to shut up or she’d get the same punishment.

Finally, the pain stopped and she gave herself over to oblivion.

 

* * *

 

Daffi awoke to horrible pain pounding in her ribs, her face, her lower back, and along one hip. She whimpered, then someone lifted her into a sitting position, creating more discomfort to whizz across her nerve endings. Another whimper escaped her, followed by a soft curse.

She looked up into Stickman’s face.

“Fuck, baby. You’re a mess.”

“Gee, wonder why,” she snarked, then grimaced.

“Get on your feet,” he ordered. “If you don’t, Ezra will beat you again. He was so pissed at Jess for crying for you that he knocked one of her teeth out.”

“I can barely move now.” Tears slipped down her hot, swollen face. She had to breathe through her mouth. “I think he broke my nose.”

“Ezra says you have a way of calming the merchandise, so get over there and do your magic.” He jerked his head in the direction of six heavily boarded crates from which crying and pleas emanated.

With Stickman’s aid, she struggled to her feet and over to the crates. The area where shipments were stored looked like any other warehouse, except for the bloodstains here and there on the floor. A couple of guards stood ready with pry bars. When she reached the first box, the men pried the top off. Inside, Daffi found a girl no more than 16. Her mascara had run down her cheeks, sweat plastered her long platinum hair to her head, and she’d been stripped of everything except her white bra and cotton panties.

“Please,” the girl said. “I want to go home.”

“Be quiet and obey without question,” Daffi told her, cupping her cheek. “If you stick to those two rules, you’ll be okay. Always remember that. Hold on to those rules.”

Tears coursed down the girl’s sweet face, then plopped from her chin to land on her thighs.

“Okay?” Daffi said.

Hesitantly, the teenager nodded, her eyes full of terror.

“Hold on to those rules,” Daffi reinforced. “Don’t forget them.”

“Are you…like me?” the girl questioned.

“Since I was eight years old.”

The teen’s lower lip wobbled and a sob tore from her.

“Remember the rules, sweetie.”

“Okay.”

“If you stay quiet, someone will bring you a meal and a bottle of water,” Daffi said, wishing she could take the girl away from there.

Again, the teen nodded.

Daffi motioned to the guards, and they replaced the lid, this time using zip ties to lash the top on instead of the nails.

Moving to the next crate, Daffi spoke in the same way to each abducted woman. This time Ezra was selling three teenage girls from about 15 years of age to 19, two brunettes in their early 20’s and a redhead who Daffi guessed to be 28 or 29. Most buyers wanted young, supple girls, but there were still those who liked more mature women, so occasionally, if they were attractive and took good care of their bodies, Ezra would collect women in their late 20’s to mid-30’s.

The last woman reminded Daffi so much of her mother at that age that she had to stifle a gasp when she looked into the box.

“Please,” the woman cried, “I need to go home. I have two little girls who need me. They’re 11 and 12. They have no one else…” The woman let out several high-pitched sobs, as if a flock of frightened birds had flown out of the crate.

Frantic to shut her up, Daffi motioned for her to be quiet. “Shh, don’t say things like—”

“Notify Ezra that wherever they picked up this woman, she has young girls who can be sold too,” one of the guards said to Stickman.

“That’ll make him happy,” Stickman replied, as if the guy had just shot his dog. “Really young ones bring stupidly high prices.” He met Daffi’s gaze. “Don’t look at me like that, baby. You know this is a business.”

“Fuck you!” Half walking and half limping away, she headed toward the door that led to the prostitutes’ rooms.

“Where do you think you’re going?” Stickman hollered. “You’re not done here. If you leave, Ezra will kick your fucking ass.”

She didn’t bother to reply. She felt nothing anymore. Pain was just pain. Eventually it faded. If Ezra wanted to beat her again, fine. At least when she passed out she could leave this world for a time.

At the end of the hall, she paused, checking for Ezra’s whereabouts, then she hobbled across the MC and over to the stairs leading to the nicer units where hers was. When she finally reached her room, she let herself in, locked the door—not that it would keep anyone out—and limped over to the tiny bathroom. The tub wasn’t one where she could stretch out in luxury, but it served its purpose, and a hot, soothing bath was just the ticket for the screaming pain in her ribs and hip.

After she turned the water on and adjusted the temperature, she poured a healthy dose of lavender-and-vanilla oil, a luxury she seldom bought for herself from the Nightshade women’s boutique, into the tub, then stripped and settled herself gingerly into the bath. As she began to relax, the lock to the door disengaged, followed by the door opening, then shutting. An angry sigh whooshed out of her. Privacy here was as rare as fart diamonds.

“There you are,” Stickman said.

“I can’t go far.” She kept her eyes shut. The silence stretched.

“Ezra’s still pissed off at you.”

“So?”

“You really don’t care?” Stickman asked.

“No.”

“Why are you suddenly so difficult?”

She frowned but didn’t open her eyes. “Why do I have to be treated like shit? I am a human being, but because I’m a woman, I don’t count. Just like none of those slaves Ezra has in storage counts.”

Movement finally forced her to look up at him. He’d lowered himself to his knees and kneeled with his hands on the edge of the tub. “Most people really don’t have a choice in this life, Daffi. Sure, there are those with nine-to-five jobs, those who sit at home and raise their kids while their spouse works, kids who go to college, but the harsh reality is that the ones who are homeless, those who live in terrible poverty and those involved in illegal trafficking outweigh the ones who have stability in their lives.” Stickman leaned over and probed her nose, his fingers rough but warm. “Your nose isn’t broken, just bruised and swollen.” He took one of the two clean washcloths off a tiny shelf over the toilet and dunked it in the sweet-smelling water. “People like you and me do what we have to in order to survive.”

“I’m tired of surviving,” she replied with venom. “I want to live.”

As Stickman began soaping up the cloth with some gel out of a dollar bottle kept on the corner of the tub, Daffi let her mind wander. If she had a real life, she wouldn’t be sitting here now in a hot tub of water, praying the pain in her body would fade. The Wraithkillers had been rough, but Crow, and any of his men, had ever beaten her or any of her fellow sheep for stupid reasons. Most of the hard knocks she’d gotten were from fighting with other sweetbutts over men, drugs and money. Crow and his MC might be outlaws, but they were nothing compared to the River Rebels and their new president. She’d heard the whispers throughout the MC about Hudson getting out of the pen in a few months, but she highly doubted Ezra would step down as acting president. She wouldn’t be surprised if Hudson had an accident while in prison so he could never return to his MC. She’d seen the same thing happen when she’d been in another MC gang outside of Chicago. She’s been really young then, but she’d had enough sense to lay low and not draw attention to herself. Eventually, she’d been passed to a less vicious gang as a bonus for helping with an especially dicey drug sale.

Daffi wondered how the Werewolves of Rebellion managed so well without making or selling drugs let alone other illegal activities. She’d bet Phil had never struck a woman. That was something she could tell just by looking into a man’s eyes. His were deep, thoughtful eyes that showed his intelligence and strong heart. Mentally, she shrugged those thoughts away. He probably already had an old lady.

“You’re far away,” Stickman stated. “What are you thinking about?”

“Nothing. I hurt too much.” Why couldn’t he leave her alone, let her nurse her wounds in private? He slid one of his long-fingered hands to her inner thigh, then down to her pussy where he probed her folds. “Seriously, Stick? Go fuck one of the other sheep and let me be miserable alone.”

“Come on, baby. I’ll make you forget all your hurts.” He smiled wolfishly at her, then winked.

“Fuck off.” She lay back and glared at him.

He jerked to his feet and threw the washcloth at her. It struck her across the face with a wet thwap. “Bitch!”

“Not yet, but I’m working on it,” she snarled back. If she had enough strength right now, she’d fire a shampoo bottle straight for his crotch.

He stood there returning her glare, his eyes darkening with his displeasure, but just as Daffi figured he’d haul her up out of the tub and either bend her over the tiny sink or throw her through the door onto her bed, something shifted in his eyes and he turned away.

“I’ll check on you later, baby. Just to make sure you’re okay.” The smile he gave her actually extinguished her anger. Could he really care?

“Thanks, Sticky,” she said, meaning it.

His smile grew bigger, reaching his eyes. With a nod, he left her alone.

 

* * *

 

Phil lay on the hillside for a good hour watching men come and go from the remodeled warehouse. The location of the River Rebels’ MC was halfway between Sardis, a flyspeck river town, and Laings, an even smaller town. If the law were called there, the windy-ass road made it difficult for the authorities to reach them with any speed. He hadn’t seen anything to point without a doubt to human trafficking, but he’d bet the huge crates he’d seen unloaded from a big box trailer held something besides motorcycle parts.

He’d barely glimpsed Daffodil as she’d exited her car and gone straight inside the main door. She hadn’t come back out, so he figured she was in for the night. Shame, though. He loved looking at her long, shapely legs.

There wasn’t anything he could really turn over to the county sheriff’s department, especially since they were already aware of the human-slave trade in the Upper Ohio Valley, but he could pass on the conversation he’d overhead between Daffodil and her friend and omit their names. Frank would certainly relay the info to Officer Williamscot, but he and the sheriff were probably already aware or suspected the River Rebels’ involvement in human trafficking.

He checked to make sure there was no one within view and crawled his way back to the hill’s crest, then out of sight where his Harley was parked. He mounted the bike, started it and tore off up the winding asphalt. Next time he saw Daffodil, he’d… He’d what? Just talking to a sweetbutt of another gang without permission could get his ass kicked and hers too. But he had to see her again. The need to spend time with her had begun to grow into a hunger only she could sate.

If that were the case, he was going to be a starving man.

 

Chapter Six

 

It took about 20 minutes on foot to reach Scary Mary’s little cabin. The trail leading from the MC was faint, but once Bernadette reached the big hollow where the Little Muskingum River cut through it, the path deepened, becoming well worn by both Scary Mary’s travels and animals. With Steven’s help, they crossed a shallow part of the river, which Bernadette felt was more of a narrow creek, and started hiking up the opposite hillside. Minutes later, they reached the plateau where a small cabin sat nestled in a grove of hickory trees. She played the flashlight over the front of the house. The home wasn’t much, just a one-bedroom cabin that served its purpose but quaint all the same.

At the front door, Bernadette stopped and looked at Steven. “Come on inside.”

“Thanks, but I’ll wait out here.” He kept his gaze trained on the path leading back the way they’d come. “I can handle being around one witch, but two is pushing it.”

It pained Bernadette that he feared her, but she could understand his viewpoint. Hell, sometimes she scared herself. “I’m not bad, Steven.”

“Didn’t say you were.” He removed an ax from a big stump used as a chopping block and leaned the tool against the house. Sitting, he said, “I’ll be here when you’re ready to leave. These woods have a heaviness about them, so it’s best I keep watch out here anyway.”

He was right. There was something off in the whole area.

“Okay, I shouldn’t be long.”

As she turned toward the door, it opened and Mary waved her indoors. “It’s getting late, child. We need to talk before the veil lifts.”

Great. Bernadette had forgotten about how the doorways to other dimensions thinned after midnight, allowing the stronger creatures and otherworldly people to pass to and from worlds. Spirits roamed earth from midnight until dawn too.

Mary motioned to a chair at a huge slab of wood cut from the base of an enormous tree. The tabletop had been sanded, then covered in something clear and shiny. Each seat around the table was fashioned from the same wood, shellacked, and wrapped at the joints with heavy leather straps that had grown shiny with age. Herbs Mary grew in pots and small hotbeds now hung drying from the rafters and around the kitchen window. The aroma of sage, basil, rosemary and dill mingled with the scents of other herbs, the combination overwhelming the small space. Two yellow tabby cats, one full grown and fat and one about six months old, lay next to the hearth where a small fire crackled to keep the evening damp at bay.

Mary reached across the felines and grabbed the campfire perker pot she had sitting on the edge of the coals. She said nothing as she poured Bernadette a cup of coffee, then set the chipped mug in front of her. Bernadette picked it up and sipped while Mary added cream and sugar to her own cup. Behind the woman, the doorway to the only bedroom yawned darkly.

“I was gone because the head witch of my coven called everyone together,” Mary began, her eyes black and shiny in the dim light. “Since you’re my apprentice, you need to know a few things. You may face some dark nasties in the coming weeks, so if you don’t feel you’re ready for this, we can stop your lessons now and wait to continue at a later date, maybe next spring or summer.”

“No!” Bernadette set her mug down with a thump. “I want to continue to learn from you.”

Mary shoved her cup aside. A huge smile split her face, the woman’s teeth bright white. She sat back and crossed her arms over her ample bosom. “Child, I’m thrilled that you enjoy learning from me, but I don’t think you realize what I mean when I say ‘dark nasties.’ Evil has infiltrated these hills. The high priest is unsure what it is, but it’s growing in strength and many may fall prey to it.”

“I live with werewolves, Mary.” Bernadette met her mentor’s dark gaze, the power behind her mentor’s eyes revealing her strength. “Most people would run screaming into the night if they knew lycanthropes truly existed. I didn’t.”

“All right.” The woman stood and uncovered a dish on the counter. “Should this problem grow worse, it may take your power and mine to protect everyone.”

“Does the high priest have a game plan for how to handle this…evil?” Bernadette caught a whiff of cinnamon. “Or does he at least have a guess about what it is?”

“It’s demonic, but that’s all he knows.” With a dessert plate in each hand, Mary turned and set one in front of Bernadette and the other at her own spot. “It could be anything, but High Priest Niall says it’s powerful.”

More cinnamon assailed Bernadette’s senses. Saliva flooded her mouth as she accepted the fork Mary handed to her. The witch cut a third slice of pie, selected another fork, then took the plate and utensil to the front door, where she stepped out for a few seconds.

“Just set everything on the chopping block when you leave,” she told Steven. “I’ll collect your dishes in the morning.” Once she’d shut the door and again sat at the table, she cut into her dessert. “It’s sad that lycanthropes fear witches, but so many dark witches have cursed many people to be werewolves. Now there are clans of them.”

“It’s odd you should say that,” Bernadette said. “Ever since the death of—”

“There was a death?” Eyes wide, Mary stopped with her fork halfway to her mouth.

“I forgot you weren’t here.” Quickly, Bernadette explained what had happened to Tony, who had come in with the Cadiz chapter.

“So, it has begun.” Mary scooped apples out of the backside of her pie crust.

Unease skittered up and down Bernadette’s spine. “What has?”

“That remains to be seen, doesn’t it?” With a heavy, disturbed sigh, she added, “There are many things that can drain a human or creature such as what happened to this Tony, but the problem is figuring out which one did it and why.”

“Can’t you do a spell that tells you what’s going on?” Bernadette asked in exasperation. “Better yet, why didn’t your high priest do something like that?”

“We don’t practice dark magic, child. Even with the good magic that we wield, there’s always a price to pay for that power.” She rose with her dishes but tossed a disapproving look over her shoulder. “Have you learned nothing from me?”

“I’m sorry. I was referring to looking into the future.”

“Ah. Well, that has been done.” The clatter of ceramic in the sink interrupted her. She pumped water from the spigot and added a squirt of dish soap. “High Priest Niall sensed an imbalance in life nearby. He cast runes, but all they told him was that evil was in the area, but when he scryed for the main source, it pointed to the Rebellion region. The reason the runes didn’t tell Niall more is because each of us is a player in the grand scheme of things, so the decisions we make, the actions we take, all alter the future.” She washed her dishes and some odds and ends already in the sink. “You need to warn your mate, then allow him to warn his clan. From what you just told me, if you share this news, the others will be suspicious of you.”

“You’re right. I’ll talk to Frank.” Bernadette took her dishes to the sink. “Let’s hope that what’s coming doesn’t destroy any more lives.”

“I’ll do whatever I can to help the MC. For now, though, use the wards I’ve taught you so far to protect the main house. Have Frank pass the ward procedure to his people in the community so they can attempt to protect themselves.”

The unease whispering in the back of Bernadette’s mind became a yell. “Attempt to protect themselves?”

Mary didn’t look at her but kept scrubbing sticky pie residue from the now-empty pie pan. “Some wards do nothing against very powerful forces. Guide your new family, child. Be patient and caring, because it will take time for them to trust you now they know you’re a white witch.”

“I will.” She took one of Mary’s soapy hands and squeezed it. “I better head back.”

“Be safe, child. Much lurks in the dark from midnight to three.”

For the first time, Bernadette was afraid to walk home in the night. She couldn’t wait to get back and snuggle into Frank’s strong, loving arms. She smiled. And maybe get more loving than just from his arms. With a quiet chuff of laughter, she let her fear subside and stepped outside.

 

* * *

 

Bernadette instructed everyone to pour salt lines at doors and windows and to hang wind chimes over all entryways of each building to guard against evil intruders. She worried that more mishap would occur, but Mary’s warning about impending “dark nasties” seemed to be for naught, and the Werewolves of Rebellion and its community relaxed. September bled into October, and thankfully nothing terrible happened during that time. The apples were harvested, an event that took the help of everyone and that Bernadette and her mother thoroughly enjoyed. They spent days cooking apple butter, something Bernadette had never made before, as well as pressing apple juice, some for set aside for wine, making apple sauce and dicing apples, which were sealed and frozen for pies and fried apples. The rest of the fruit that wasn’t given to each household was boxed up and sold at the farmers market and the local grocery store.

The weather had been ideal for the vegetable garden to continue bearing, but with the end of the growing season already past and the first frost right around the corner, Luella had all the women in the garden on a Friday afternoon gathering all they could. The late afternoon sun warmed Bernadette’s backside as she pulled both green and red tomatoes off a hearty plant.

“What are we going to do with all this stuff?” Bernadette asked her friend.

“We’ll can some things such as tomatoes, make a few more quarts of pickles, but what we’ll do with most of it is make a recipe called End of Year Relish, a mix of all vegetables in one jar that’s amazing.” Luella straightened from where she was pulling the last few carrots. “It’s a recipe handed down by Galina, but Myrrine came up with a spicy version, so we’ll use that one too.”

Bernadette’s mother ambled over with a cardboard box full of bell peppers. “Oh, that relish sounds delicious.” She set the crate on the ground next to a few others full of various vegetables, the colors bright against the brown grass clippings used between the rows to smother weeds and hold moisture. “I can’t wait to try it,” she added.

One thing Bernadette had learned about Frank’s grandmother and mother was that they were well versed in natural healing remedies and various food recipes. She had yet to try one of their recipes she didn’t like.

“We have new lettuce that has come up, Maeve,” Luella said. “Would you mind picking it? We’ll use it for a huge salad to go with supper tonight.”

“I sure will.”

“Here’s a plastic store bag.” Luella handed it to Bernadette’s mom. “When you’re done, just take it inside and pop it into the fridge.”

Wandering over to the edge of the garden nearest the house, Bernadette’s mother hummed to herself. She dodged the other ladies busy harvesting and laughed when she bumped into Puppy, who steadied her so she wouldn’t fall. Bernadette’s heart swelled with satisfaction. She hadn’t seen her mom thrive and blossom like this in years. The MC’s community was definitely good for her.

Bernadette moved to the next tomato plant and began the same process of removing all the pickable fruit.

“When you bend over like that, it makes me want to fuck you,” Frank whispered close to her ear.

She startled and fell over on her butt. “Don’t sneak up on me like that.”

He grinned, the expression wolfish. “It’s sweetbutt night, so I thought instead of hanging out at the house, we could find an interesting getaway place somewhere else.”

She returned his big smile. “What did you have in mind?”

“Not sure, but I’ll come up with something interesting.”

“Did you need something now?”

He leered at her, and she swatted his hip lightly. “You know what I mean,” she said, giggling.

“Nah, just wanted to talk to Luella about something.” He pulled Bernadette into his arms and held her loosely. “Want to help at the farmers market tomorrow?”

“Sure, sounds like fun.”

He kissed her lightly on the lips. “I’ll be busy in the shop the rest of the day, but I’ll see you at suppertime.”

“Okay.”

He patted her on the ass, leaving her to return to her task. Although she enjoyed living at the Werewolves’ MC, it was also a farm, so everyone was busy 24/7 and it wasn’t unusual for her not to see Frank until suppertime or even later. She could only imagine what it would be like if they had children, and even that posed problems because she wasn’t a she-wolf. She stared down at her hand where she gripped a fat, red tomato. What would it be like to transform, to have paws where her hands once were, fangs in her mouth, a muzzle where her lips and nose once resided?

Everyone who was a lycanthrope had told her the change was painful, especially for turned werewolves or young ones coming into their transformation ability, but after a lykoi reached full maturity with his or her wolf self, the change still hurt but was tolerable. Bernadette wasn’t sure she wanted to endure shifting from human into beast and back again. And what about their kids? Would they be subjected to the change if they were half-lykoi, or was it the chance of DNA that determined whether or not a child would be a shape-shifter?

She glanced over at Frank, who was speaking to Luella with his back to Bernadette. He gestured, the action showing agitation. Luella glanced her way, met her eyes and quickly averted her gaze. She said something back to Frank that looked distinctly like “She can’t know.” Bernadette’s stomach bottomed out.

What can’t I know? She couldn’t stand it if Frank was hiding something from her. Against her better judgement, she once again wondered if he was still sexually involved with Luella, but that didn’t make sense because Luella was mated to Beastman. Did lycanthrope people have affairs? Wouldn’t their mates smell the other person on their significant other?

For an instant, nausea settled in her stomach. No, she was overthinking this. She was new to the clan, a human amid werewolves, so she wasn’t fully aware of all their culture and customs. Frank loved her. Why else would he go after her when she’d left for Columbus on a hot, stormy July day and convinced her that he loved her and wanted her to stay with him?

She straightened, feeling ill, and waited for another autumn breeze to cool her face and arms.

“You all right, sweetie?” Her mother’s voice reached her from a few feet away.

She turned toward her mom. “Yeah. Fine.”

Her mother frowned and walked over to her. “No, you’re not. What’s wrong?”

“How can you tell if a man is two-timing you?” she asked. “I know Daddy cheated on you when he was overseas, so how did you know what he’d done when he came back from his military duty?”

“It was the look in his eyes,” her mother answered. Pain appeared briefly on her face, then vanished. “He had such expressive eyes. When he got home, I knew what he’d done the instant he walked in the door and looked at me.” She flicked her gaze over at Frank and Luella, then stepped close so only Bernadette could hear her. “Surely you don’t think he’s messing around. He loves you, honey, and it’s obvious to everyone else too.”

“He has a close friendship with her,” Bernadette said, rolling her eyes in Luella’s direction. “They have these talks that just seem…too intimate.”

“Then talk to him about it.”

“If I do, he’ll think I don’t trust him.”

“Because you don’t.”

“What?” Bernadette gaped at her.

“Well, why else would his friendship with Luella threaten you?” Her mom crossed her arms, the plastic bag full of lettuce dangling down her torso. “Luella has a mate.”

“I know, but I don’t know everything about their lycanthrope culture—”

“Maybe that’s it,” her mother said. “Maybe you’re in unfamiliar territory, so you’re jumping to conclusions about things you’re unsure about.”

Relieved, Bernadette placed her hand on her mom’s shoulder. If her mother was echoing her earlier thought, then it must be the answer. “I think you’re right, Mom. Thank you.”

“Just want my baby girl to be happy.” With a bright smile over her shoulder, she headed toward the back door with the brimming bag of lettuce.

Lord, she loved her mother so much. Thank goodness for a voice of reason.

“Frank tells me that you’re going to help at the farmers market tomorrow morning,” Luella said behind her.

Feeling better, she offered her friend a smile and a nod. “Yeah, sounds like a lot of fun.”

“Well, that depends on your attitude and how much patience you have.” Luella laughed, the rich sound carrying across the garden.

Frank approached Bernadette, slapped her on the ass and called as he passed, “See you tonight, babe.”

Butt cheek stinging pleasantly, Bernadette waved to him, then focused on Luella again. Her doubts rose from her like a cloud and drifted away on the cool breeze. “Why do you say that?”

“Most people are nice enough, but some customers are bitchy, rude and even downright hurtful because they believe we’re a commune here and not a motorcycle club with a sustainable farm and community.” Her big, round, blue eyes took on a sad glint. “I wanted to warn you in advance before someone blindsided you with a nasty remark.”

“Frank will be with me, so he’ll head off anything like that.”

Luella shook her head, the action loosening a thick lock of golden hair that tumbled down to land by the left side of her face. She poked it behind her ear. “No, sweetie, he didn’t say he’d be there. He asked if you wanted to help at the farmers market. He’s taking that big steel horse he’s been working on to Indianapolis first thing tomorrow morning.”

Crushed, she could only stare into her friend’s sky-blue eyes. “Oh.”

A furrow appeared between Luella’s eyebrows. “Didn’t he tell you?”

“No.” Tears pricked her eyes. Why in the hell was the news upsetting her so much? It wouldn’t be the first time he had to be gone for two or three days to deliver a bike.

“Don’t cry, honey.” Luella pulled the kerchief from around her neck and held it out to Bernadette. “He has a lot on his mind as he waits for the energy rights monies. And since the Claiming and Maiming, members here are still going without a lot of things. The insurance companies are fighting several of the families on their claims to repair vehicles and their homes and other things because the companies are calling what happened gang-related. They don’t believe we were simply attacked out of the blue and insist it’s not covered under their policies.”

Stunned, Bernadette dabbed at each eye. “Holy crap.”

Luella nodded gravely. “So, if Frank seems distracted or scatterbrained, that’s why. Cold weather will be in these parts anytime now, and folks need their new windows, fireplaces repaired, wood burners replaced, reliable vehicles to get around in the snow… There was and still is so much damage from the attack.”

“Good grief, Luella. What will they do if they’re denied their compensation or the claims drag on for several more months?”

She offered Bernadette a look that spoke volumes.

“Shit.” She added another tomato to a box. “I wish I could help.”

“Honey, you help a lot. You just don’t realize it.” She bent to pick up a crate. “Puppy will show you how to manage our vendor’s spot, so you’ll be in good company. Might be another lady with you, too, if someone volunteers.” She paused before taking the vegetables over to a lawn tractor with an attached trailer. “You okay now?”

She nodded. “I’m good.”

“All right, then. Let’s get the rest of the work finished out here, take the trailer to the lane for my hubby to load the vegetables into his pickup, then we’ll have us some coffee and a snack.” Luella returned to work.

The severity of Scary Mary’s warning sank into Bernadette’s brain so suddenly that a headache formed, and she grimaced. The MC and the clan were weak and open to an attack. Not one from a physical source, but the unknown, an unknown that Mary said was very powerful. Although she hadn’t been to Mass for years, she gulped and quickly crossed herself. Realizing the irony of being a witch and Catholic, she burst out laughing, but the sound came out with a slightly hysterical edge.

Unnerved, and with worry snaking its way through her heart, she hurried to finish picking from the last two tomato bushes and tried to keep her thoughts on what Luella would come up with for their lunch.

 

Chapter Seven

 

The next morning, Bernadette joined Puppy and Callie May, a tiny human woman also mated to a lykoi, in front of the Monroe County courthouse in Rebellion. The women showed Bernadette how to display the vegetables, hang the signs, and which customers to watch for who often had light fingers.

They sat in lawn chairs at the end of Beastman’s pickup, its tailgate down and holding the merchandise still in crates. A folding table in front of them sat on the edge of the sidewalk. Beastman had thought to place a table umbrella in the truck, which Luella was currently sliding down into the holder affixed to one end of the table.

Bernadette yawned. She’d stayed up late waiting for Frank, then finally went to bed to lie awake until he entered the bedroom a little after midnight. Although disappointed he’d missed their time together, she realized he had to make sure each part and piece of the latest Nightshade Wolf he and his guys had created was perfect. Otherwise, the buyer could refuse to pay the other half of the motorcycle’s price and Frank would have to refund the first half. Until the energy rights monies were paid to Frank, the MC desperately needed the revenue from the bike to help their families.

A hot ball of worry had reinserted itself somewhere between Bernadette’s heart and her stomach. She kept telling herself she and Frank were fine, but it seemed like ages since they’d had any true quality time together, and sex had been happening less and less too. Frank often crawled into bed late and crashed within a few minutes. He’d done the same last night, apologizing over and over, hugging her and saying he’d make up for lost time, then falling asleep with one arm slung over her waist and the other under her head, snoring softly behind her.

She kept telling herself he had a lot on his mind, and she knew full well how badly stress affected people, especially money problems when others relied on a person. Pushing her worries aside, she focused on their vegetable stand. It wasn’t quite nine a.m. yet, but the eye-searing blue sky and cool weather made it a great day for patrons, who had already begun to approach the parking area in front of the courthouse. An old woman selected two fat butternut squashes and handed Bernadette four dollars. As she put the money away, she caught something bright red in the edge of her vision and turned toward it. There, two tables down, stood Daffi in a formfitting, fire-engine-red dress and nosebleed heels. Although she had her reservations about the woman, she had to admit she was a blonde bombshell. Daffi looked so much better with some meat on her bones. When Bernadette had been at Crow’s MC, she’d often wondered if the woman ever absorbed anything other than pills and blow. The River Rebels might own Daffi now, but she looked well fed.

She waited as Daffi wandered closer to their table. Her short hairstyle lay around her head and face in waves that complemented the shape of her face. Light makeup completed her appearance, and her fiery-red lipstick brought out the honey tones in her hair. Bernadette had often wished she could wear red lipstick, but the color always washed her out and made her look like she’d been drinking too much cherry Kool-Aid.

“Who is that woman?” Callie May asked next to her.

“I don’t know her last name,” Bernadette replied quietly, “but she used to be one of the Wraithkillers’ sweetbutts. She’s been sold to the River Rebels.”

“Damn, that’s sad. I feel for any woman who gets herself in that situation.” Callie sighed heavily.

Puppy put more vegetables on the table, and Bernadette took money and made change as Callie May bagged purchases and thanked each customer.

“Oh, I almost forgot.” Callie May jumped up and retrieved something sitting on the pavement behind Bernadette, pulling it with a scraping sound to a place between their chairs. Once she sat again, she leaned over and opened the flaps of a cardboard box, revealing a variety of beautiful autumn hues. “I knit and crochet coats, shawls, jackets, gloves, hats, scarves…anything you can use in cold weather. I usually sell my creations online, but I do good business here during the last three or four weeks of the farmers market.” She withdrew a couple multi-hangers and hooked them to the inner supports of the umbrella, then began slipping items onto lightweight clothing hangers and hung them in the holes of the bigger multi ones so they were clearly displayed to customers.

In minutes, women swarmed around their table exclaiming over the bright autumn colors with bold accents and trims.

Puppy snorted in amusement and set out more tomatoes.

“Plus the colors draw people to our table,” Callie May confided in a whisper to Bernadette, “so they usually buy veggies with a hat or a scarf.”

Bernadette laughed. “You’re quite the businesswoman.”

Beaming at her, Callie May rose to help a mother try on a jacket while her children were eyeing the baked goods table next to them.

Making change for another patron, Bernadette caught a whiff of something sweet and spicy, as if someone had combined ginger, honey and citrus. Thinking it was coming from the confectionery vender, she glanced to her left only to find Daffi staring at her.

Before she could stop herself, Bernadette blurted, “What perfume are you wearing?” Embarrassed, she added more quietly, “It smells amazing.”

Daffi blinked, her expression both confused and pleased. “It’s Hawaiian Ginger by Calgon,” she said, her tone more wary than cold. “It’s cheap, but it lasts a long time and the scent sticks with me, especially if I spray it in my hair or on my clothes.”

“I’ll have to buy some.” The fact the woman didn’t come back at Bernadette with a sarcastic remark or a harsh attitude made her happy for some reason. “It really does smell awesome.”

“Thank you.” Daffi’s half smirk turned into a hesitant smile and she moved over to investigate the items Callie May was now straightening on hangers.

Without being obvious, Bernadette kept an eye on Daffi as she admired each shawl and jacket. The autumn breeze gusted over the wide expanse of sidewalk, ruffling the table umbrellas, tousling hair and whipping skirts and dresses around the women’s knees. Although Daffi was a few feet away, the goose bumps on her arms and bare neck were unmistakable.

Daffi tried on a beautiful gold, russet and deep orange shawl with black trim and tiny golden beads on the edges. She looked at the price tag, sighed wistfully, then returned it to its hanger, careful to place it on the tool just so, and hung it back up. Shouldering her little bag, she strode to the courthouse steps, her heels clicking crisply, and disappeared inside.

“Callie May?” Bernadette said as she handed over three quarters to an old man. “Would you take that shawl with the beading and set it aside for me? I’ll pay you for it when we get home.”

“Sure, hon.” The young woman reached for it, then paused, her face lighting up with comprehension. “Aw, you’re a really good soul, honey. You know that?”

Bernadette shook her head. “Nah, I’m just trying to give someone a bright spot in their day, that’s all.”

With a gentle chuckle, Callie May retrieved the shawl, placed it in some tissue paper from the box, then slid it into a little gift tote also from the box. “Whatever you say, hon.”

 

* * *

 

At noon, the vendors packed up what was left of their goods and loaded everything into their vehicles. As Bernadette helped Luella lift the umbrella up out of its holder, she kept an eye on the courthouse steps. When Daffi emerged through the massive double doors, Bernadette glanced at Luella and asked, “Would you mind if I go take care of something?”

“Sure, honey. I’ve got this. Everything else is already stowed in the pickup. How long are you going to be?”

“Ten minutes tops.”

“Okay.” She folded the umbrella and reached for the straps to tie it to its support pole.

“Thank you.” Reaching under the table for the gift tote holding the shawl, Bernadette kept her attention on Daffi so she couldn’t get away from her. She hurried after the woman, who was walking to a little blue car parked on the street by the courthouse’s side entrance.

About 15 feet away, she called, “Daffi, wait!”

Surprised, Daffi stopped in the process of opening the driver’s door, but her expression quickly shifted to suspicion. “What do you want?”

Her question gave Bernadette pause. Why was she offering the woman a gift? The question vanished as she halted within four or five feet of Daffi and stared into her light green eyes. Daffi needed a friend, and Bernadette realized she wanted to be that friend.

“I hope this doesn’t offend you,” she began shakily, “but I wanted to give you something.”

“Why would you want to give me anything?” Daffi asked defensively. The wariness in her eyes grew more intense.

“Well…” Bernadette shrugged. “We got off to a bad start a few months ago, and I wanted you to know I have no hard feelings.” She held out the little brown tote. “And…well…everyone needs someone to confide in, someone who has their back.”

A smirk twisted Daffi’s red-painted lips. “And you think you’re gonna have my back, huh?”

The quaver in the woman’s voice caused her accent to grow heavier. Bernadette waited as emotions marched over Daffi’s face, her body rigid, stance defensive. She kept holding the bag out to her.

“Just take a look,” Bernadette urged. “If you don’t like it, I’ll take it back.”

For an instant, all the fight bled out of Daffi. She looked around, first up one end of the street, then the other. Hesitantly, she held out her hand, her fingernails painted the same color as her lipstick. Bernadette handed her the tote.

Daffi held a cord handle in each hand, pulled them apart and looked inside at the gift. Her eyes widened and her mouth fell ajar. “Oh… I…” She looked up at Bernadette, her eyes glassy, but her expression delighted. “I don’t know what to say.”

“How about thank you?”

With resolved, Daffi switched to one hand and held the bag out to Bernadette. “I can’t accept this. Ezra will ask how I could afford it, then…well…” She lifted one shoulder in a halfhearted manner.

“Can’t you tell him you’ve been saving for it?”

“He doesn’t give me enough money to save.”

An idea popped into Bernadette’s head and she grinned. “Tell him there was a raffle at the farmers market and you won it. I’ll tell the other girls and they’ll vouch for you if necessary.”

Slowly, Daffi nodded once, twice. “Okay. He should believe that. Thank you.”

“You like it, right?”

“Oh, yeah. I fell in love with it the moment I saw it hanging at your table.” Looking into the bag again, Daffi sighed dreamily. “That girl makes so many pretty things. This is the first time I’ve owned anything like this.”

Happiness poured into Bernadette. “Good. I’m glad you like it.”

Daffi started to slide into the driver’s seat, then paused and looked right at Bernadette. “I’m sorry I beat you up.”

“I understand why you did it,” Bernadette replied, startled by Daffi’s apology.

One corner of Daffi’s mouth quirked. “You held your own, I’ll give you that.”

Bernadette laughed, and Daffi joined her.

“By the way,” Bernadette said, “that outfit is stunning on you, but it’s nice to see you with some meat on your bones. You’re a lovely woman.”

“Oh.” Red flared in Daffi’s cheeks and crept up her neck, even staining the swell of her breasts peeking from the dress’ V neck. “Uhm…thank you.” She glanced at Bernadette as she settled into the driver’s seat, but pleasure lit her eyes. “I’ll see you around. Thank you again—I really mean it.” She started her little car and began pulling away from the curb.

“You’re very welcome,” Bernadette called out, smiling so big it hurt.

She sighed as she gathered her thoughts. In the square, Daffi’s Ford made a right and headed out of town. Footsteps to her left drew her attention to the courthouse’s side entrance. As he descended the steps, a very handsome, blond man with bright blue eyes smiled at her. Familiarity hit her. Where had she seen him before? As he passed her, his smile grew more interested. She looked away, suddenly remembering him from the day she’d paid the property taxes for Frank. The guy must be with one of the energy rights companies.

“Ma’am,” he said, his voice seductive. He walked closer.

Something about his tone stoked an ember of desire deep inside Bernadette. What the hell? What was wrong with her?

“Gorgeous day for a gorgeous woman, isn’t it?”

Almost to her, the man continued smiling. Unable to look away, Bernadette continued staring up at him. Flustered and uncomfortable, she couldn’t seem to tear her gaze away from his. The world spun, and for an instant, she thought she was going to plant face-first on the sidewalk.

“Ma’am?”

She blinked to find his hand encircling her wrist, his thumb stroking the skin on the inner part of it.

“Are you all right?” he asked. “You looked like you might faint.”

“I’m…” She blinked rapidly several times. Her mind, foggy and disoriented, gradually cleared. The cool autumn breeze brought her back to herself, and the sunshine warmed her face. “I’m fine, thank you.”

He nodded, releasing her, then jaywalked across the street to disappear down a narrow alley.

Oddly shaken, she returned to the pickup.

Luella looked at her curiously. “If you don’t mind me asking,” her friend said, “what was that all about with the woman in the red dress?”

“I’m not sure how to explain it, Luella.” She accepted her purse that Puppy held out to her. “She needs a friend.”

“She used to be one of Crow’s sweetbutts,” Puppy said. “Isn’t she with the River Rebels now?”

“Yeah,” Bernadette answered. She smoothed her hand over her wrist.

“Friendship might get her ass kicked,” Puppy said.

“Well, if anyone asks”—Bernadette inclined her head toward Callie May—“that shawl was raffled off and Daffi won it.”

“Works for me,” Callie May said and hopped up into the bed of the pickup.

Puppy and Luella shook their heads and laughed softly.

Feeling wonderful, Bernadette climbed in the truck cab and scooted to the middle. Tingling in her wrist forced her to rub at it again.

Puppy settled beside her and slammed the door. “Every time I think I’ve got you figured out, you go and surprise me.”

“Is that bad?” Bernadette worriedly met her friend’s big puppy-dog eyes.

“Hell, no. It’s a good thing.” Giving her a one-armed hug, Puppy added, “You’re just full of surprises, that’s all.”

 

* * *

 

Mondays…damn how Phil hated them. It seemed like every Monday the dispatcher was always in a pissy mood. Probably because the guy was known for getting shitface drunk every weekend, then took out his hangover on all the truck drivers, making the first day of each work week intolerable.

He focused on the winding pavement, enjoying the cool breeze on his face and the deepening blue of the sky as the daylight began to wane. Soon, he entered Rebellion and turned at the square, heading toward McDonald’s for his coffee. As always, Kadie worked second shift and had his coffee ready before he reached the counter. It was busy as customers filed in for an easy supper, so to Kadie’s disappointment, she was unable to flirt with him. With a smile, Phil nodded his thanks and headed for a seat by the huge plate-glass windows in the front of the restaurant.

He hadn’t seen a particular blue Ford Fusion anywhere in the parking lot, but that didn’t mean the leggy blonde hadn’t parked on the street and walked over. However, once he surveyed both dining rooms, it was clear Daffodil wasn’t there that evening.

Fuck. He’d been fantasizing about her for weeks. He hadn’t seen her again since he’d followed her to the River Rebels’ MC, and now that she wasn’t here, it made his shitty Monday even shittier. He’d told Frank what he’d overheard her talking about with her friend and that he’d done a quick reconnaissance and had seen huge crates that could have been used to transport people. Frank reported it to Deputy Sheriff Willamscot, but the deputy had said they were already keeping an eye on the River Rebels.

Then Phil had spent his past weekend with Frank transporting the latest Nightshade Wolf to Indianapolis, his entire weekend wasted—well, not wasted, exactly—but he never got a chance to relax before having to return to work. Now irked and his irritation mounting, he sipped his coffee and watched vehicles idle through the drive-through, his thoughts returning to the blonde.

He hoped Daffodil was all right.

 

* * *

 

“Shit! Shit! Shit!” Daffi slapped the steering wheel with both hands, then instantly regretted it as pain sang up her fingers and into her knuckles. “Why won’t you start, you piece of shit!”

When her car had just shut off without warning, she’d managed to coast it onto a pull-off spot where she often saw an old man who sold melons and brown eggs during the summer months. Fear squeezed her throat. If she wasn’t at the MC by six p.m., Ezra would be pissed. She rummaged in her purse, found her cell phone and called his number.

“Daffodil?” his voice caressed her ear and inspired her to shiver in dread.

“Hi, Ezra. My car died.”

“Where are you?”

“At the pull-off where that old man sells his stuff.”

“I’ll send someone up there.”

“Thank you.”

“Yep.” The line clicked.

She sat there fidgeting, cussing and praying her stupid car’s mechanical issue wouldn’t result in Ezra beating the shit out of her again. After the last one he’d given her, it had taken nearly two weeks for the bruising to fade.

Well, at least she was warm, and the view of the brilliant fall leaves painting the hillsides and valley soothed her a little. She reached behind her and picked up the gift tote Bernadette Kelly had given her with the shawl in it. Daffi didn’t have the guts to wear the garment—and oh how she wanted to—but Ezra was growing more and more unpredictable and she wasn’t willing to answer his unwanted questions or risk him taking the shawl from her out of pure spite.

She pulled it out of the bag and spread it over her torso, reveling in the colors that mimicked the view beyond the windshield. The gold beading glittered prettily, the colors even brighter against the trim. She fingered the yarn in all its intricate loop patterns, marveling at its softness. Maybe one day she’d have enough money to buy one of that girl’s coats too. They were even lined and she used bright, sparkling buttons… The idea fizzled and died. She knew better than to pine for anything. It always ended in disappointment and a hollow ache that took forever to go away.

In the twilight, a lone light began its trek up the hill. Knowing it was probably the man Ezra had sent after her, she quickly stuffed the shawl back into its tote and shoved it under her seat. The light crawled around two more turns, disappeared, then lit up the area just around the bend from where she sat. She got out of the Ford and began waving as a motorcycle appeared. The rider slowed and drove over on to the pull-off area.

Her heart sank. Why couldn’t Ezra have sent Stickman? At least she wouldn’t have to worry about him getting out of hand too much. This guy, Jackknife, was from another chapter, Lexington, Kentucky, if she remembered. He was rough, just out of prison for murder, so he’d transferred up here to get out of the law’s eyes. Jackknife kept a wicked look in his eye and had already beaten the hell out of two of the MC’s biggest guys.

He was a huge, muscled bastard, and she was alone.

“Daffi, right?” he drawled.

“Yes.” Trepidation nudged her.

“What happened with your car?” He put the kickstand down, turned off the bike, then dismounted.

“It just shut off and wouldn’t start again.” She hated the faint tremor in her voice.

“I’ll take a look. Get in and pop the hood. When I tell you, try starting the engine.”

She avoided looking him in the face and scrambled into the car. After tugging on the hood release, she rolled the window down, then waited, wishing the earthquakes of fear shaking through her would subside. No one lived for a mile in either direction. Maybe Jackknife would be content to tinker with her car and, if he couldn’t get it to start, he’d simply take her back to the MC without incident.

Fat chance.

“Try starting it,” he hollered.

She turned the key, but nothing happened.

“Again.”

She did as she was told.

He straightened and let the hood slam shut. “The alternator has probably shit itself.” He motioned for her to get out of the car. “Lock it up and I’ll take you back to the club. Someone can tow it later.”

Could she get off that easily? Unwilling to leave her shawl behind, she left it just the same, figuring it would be safer in her Ford than it would be clenched in her hand on the back of a Harley.

Daffi shouldered her purse, then hit the button to engage all the door locks. With her keys clenched in her fingers, she exited the car and shut the driver’s door with her other hand. She looked up and found Jackknife directly in front of her, his gaze pinned to her cleavage and a cruel smile twisting his mouth. The guy might have been handsome if not for the coldness in his crystalline-blue eyes. His coal-black hair intensified the paleness of his eyes, his expression cool, calculating.

Fuck. I might as well bend over and spread ’em. She bit her lower lip and tried to sidestep him, but as expected, he grasped her upper arm and spun her around, pinning her so they were torso to torso.

“Where you goin’, baby?” His Kentucky accent thickened as he tried sweet-talking her. “It’s quiet and no one’s around.”

“It’s nice that you’re so observant.” Her fear earthquakes reached a 9.0 on her Richter scale. Why did she always have to fire missiles out of her mouth whenever she was threatened or in uncomfortable situations?

Jackknife stared hard at her, a frown marring the smooth skin between his eyebrows. “You making fun of me?”

“No, it was a compliment.” For the love! Where the hell was the off switch for her mouth?

But Jackknife took her seriously and grinned, revealing a gold-capped tooth. He gripped either side of her dress and pulled it up over her hips. Shoving her over the hood, he whistled. “Fuck, I love it when pussies are dressed up in thong panties.”

He pressed his thighs against the backs of hers, followed by unfastening his jeans, the zipper lowering almost thunderous in the quiet evening. Nausea claimed Daffi. Her heart hammered so hard that she saw white spots flitting in her vision. She couldn’t stand living like this anymore, couldn’t tolerate being someone’s property, and definitely could not bear to be touched by another jackass who thought she had no other purpose than to provide a place to shove his cock.

“Hoo-whee! What a great ass, and you look like you’re all bare down there too. And those red-as-hell heels… I bet Ezra can’t fuck you enough. Seems like Stickman enjoys you, too, doesn’t he?” He placed his hands on her waist and dug his fingers into her skin, holding her in place as he positioned the head of his cock at her opening. “I’m going to enjoy every second I fuck you, baby.”

The instant he started to push into her pussy, something snapped inside Daffi. She jerked away so suddenly that it took him by surprise.

“What the fuck!” Anger twisted his features into a murderous mask. “You’re nothing but a whore. Get over here!”

On impulse, Daffi swung her purse across his face, taking him off guard. The metal clasp caught him across the mouth, slicing his upper lip. Blood welled and trickled over his lips to his chin to disappear in his bushy, black beard. He touched his wound. At the sight of blood, his expression transformed into a black storm that was about to strike her dead if she didn’t think fast. Daffi kicked him as hard as she could in the groin. Pain exploded in the top of her foot, then all her weight on one stiletto caused the heel to break and she went down in the dirt flat on her back to find herself staring up at the silhouette of leafy tree branches overhead.

Jackknife let out an agonizing howl. Instead of falling to the ground or at least dropping to his knees, he merely palmed his exposed gonads with one hand and lunged at her. She rolled to the side, dusting flying up her nose, but as he reached her, his boots kicked up even more dust, blinding her.

“You dirty bitch! I’ll make sure you regret this!”

In response to the grainy debris in her eyes, tears flooded them. Unable to see, she gasped as he sank his fingers into her hair and jerked—hard. Fiery pain seared her scalp. She screamed, her hands going to where Jackknife had hold of her locks. He hauled her to her feet, but with one stiletto broken, she couldn’t stabilize herself to fight him. He shook her like a rag doll, disorientating her until she didn’t know which direction was left or right. Further torture assaulted her scalp, and she screamed again. Then her feet left the earth. Suddenly airborne, she crashed into the Ford’s hood.

Rolling to one side, Daffi flung herself on the ground and landed in a cluster of scratchy ironweed, sticks and small limbs.

“I’d kill you know if it wasn’t for having to answer to Ezra!” Jackknife roared from the front of the Ford.

For weeks now she’d been telling herself she didn’t care what happened to her anymore, that life wasn’t worth living if she had no free will. Whatever had broken in her earlier now surged to the forefront with determination. If he was going to kill her, then she was going to go out fighting. She sat up. Through tears, she spotted a limb that looked sound and long enough to swing with some well-placed impact. Daffi grabbed it in both hands, found it easily removed from the undergrowth and stood with her back mostly to Jackknife. She kicked off her other heel and waited.

“Come here, bitch!”

He pushed through the weeds toward her, and she swung the limb as though she was going for a homerun in Yankee Stadium. The heavy-duty branch struck him across the left ear and jaw with a resounding crack that wafted out over the hollow yawning below them. Bark flew into the air. Jackknife issued a loud “oomph!” and stumbled back a couple steps before losing his footing in the weeds.

 

Chapter Eight

 

Phil didn’t know what had possessed him to ride over to the River Rebels’ hangout. It wasn’t like he could ride in there and demand to see Daffodil. All he could do was sit on the hilltop and stare down at their compound while wondering if she was inside and okay.

The ride out past Laings toward the Ohio River was worth it, though. As autumn marched toward full color, the Appalachians wore a cloak of brightness Phil hadn’t seen for a long time. The last five or six autumns had been too dry to stimulate much color, but this year certainly made up for it. With the sunset minutes away, the temperature was steadily dropping. It wouldn’t be long before everyone had to turn their furnaces up, stoke wood burners and throw a couple more blankets on their bed. That also meant there were only a handful of good riding days left. The thought of having to garage his Harley socked Phil in the gut. Whenever he got the urge to ride and couldn’t because of the weather, the long, cold months seemed twice as lengthy.

Determined to enjoy his time out on his bike, he maneuvered a series of sharp S curves. A straight stretch of about a quarter mile appeared, but his headlight caught the glint of a parked car’s taillights and a chrome bumper. Off to the side by the ravine, a blonde suddenly stood and swung something. He recognized the Ford Focus and Daffi. As he slowed the Harley, he caught sight of a big man with a bushy, black beard moving toward her from the front of the car. She swung what looked like a sturdy limb about six feet long and caught the guy alongside his head. The man staggered back, flailing his arms, and went down in the tall ironweed skirting the wide pull-off.

He slowed and pulled off behind the Ford, quickly shutting off the bike. He put the kickstand down and had barely secured the Harley before he leaped from it stand behind his leggy blonde.

“Hey,” Phil said, alerting her to his presence. “Daffodil, you okay?”

She spun in his direction, eyes wide, dirt caking the corners of them, and tear tracks down her cheeks. Her dress was hiked around her waist, her lacy, black thong revealed to the world. Scratches from the ironweed crisscrossed her arms, thighs and neck. Slowly, recognition lit her face and she threw herself at him.

Phil caught her in his arms. A fierce sense of protectiveness claimed him, both shocking and thrilling him. She trembled as if she were a tree in the center of a hurricane.

The big guy stood and faced them. “Who the fuck are you?”

“I might ask the same question,” Phil replied.

“Walk away, gearhead. She’s not your concern.”

“She obviously doesn’t want to go with you.”

The biker drew himself to his full height, probably a good four inches taller than Phil’s six foot three. And, guessing from the guy’s thick build, he was at least 50 to 60 pounds heavier than Phil was too.

“Last warning, fucker.” He took a couple steps in their direction, the fading light revealing blood dried on his upper lip and leaking from the spot just in front of his ear. “Leave now while you’re still able to walk.”

“See, I’ve never been one to listen very well. Always got to try myself.” He hugged Daffodil, who responded by pressing closer, tightening her fingers in his T-shirt. “Take that limb and go stand by my Harley.”

She nodded and obediently wiggled between him and the car, then made her way over to his bike.

“You’re a dumbass, know that?” the guy said.

“Maybe I am, but at least I don’t go around beating the hell out of women. What did she do to you?”

“Wanted me a piece of ass.” The biker tucked himself into his jeans and zipped up. “She decided to turn all pious on me. You know how it is with sheep. You gotta make ’em mind, show ’em who’s boss and keep ’em in their place.”

Phil’s inner wolf surged forward in his mind, ready to battle, to defend his leggy blonde. He wanted to rip out the jerk’s throat, watch his blood pour free as the asshole drew his last, ragged breath. Instead, he forced his animal back to its confinement. If there was one thing growing up with the Werewolves of Rebellion had taught him, it was how to fight defensively. Frank’s grandmother insisted all clan teenagers learn how to defend themselves through martial arts and hand-to-hand combat to lessen the desire to utilize their lycanthrope battle instincts so they were less likely to kill a human. The MC paid for the lessons, and he’d loved learning all he could about self-defense, even earning a black belt in a couple different categories. The lessons had given him an outlet for his grief after losing his parents in an accident when he was a teenager.

He could handle this moron without killing him. After all, his clan was about controlling the beast, not letting it have free rein. A few soft sniffs from Daffodil reminded him this River Rebel had hurt her and had intended to do even worse to her. Again, rage welled up in Phil.

The biker charged Phil, who vaulted over the Ford’s roof to the other side. The man was obviously human. Otherwise, the guy would have hit him with a lycanthrope ability. He kept half his attention on Daffodil, who was trying to tug her dress back down her legs. Phil waited while the River Rebel sauntered around the back end of the Ford to confront him.

He reached into his back pocket and removed something. Holding it up in his hand, he flicked his thumb over it and a long, dark bade popped out with a schlick. “I’m going to use your tongue for a necktie, asshole.”

He attacked, and Phil sidestepped him. Again, the guy threw himself toward Phil, slicing the blade in a quick back-and-forth arc that Phil ducked under both times. He dropped to one knew and delivered an uppercut to the guy’s stomach that resulted in a huge exhalation. The man dropped to his knees and flopped on one side. Strange, high-pitched wheezing sounds emanated from him as he struggled to regain the breath Phil had literally knocked from his lungs.

Leaning over the biker, Phil said, “Come see me when you grow some hair on your balls, jackass. If I catch you bothering Daffodil again, I will kill you—or anyone else from your gang.” He squatted so he could look the man in the eyes. “Blink once if you understand.”

More distressed squeaks and wheezes came from the biker, but he blinked slowly, once.

“Good. Have a nice night.” He approached Daffodil, who stood barefoot, quivering from head to toe, snot-faced, tear-streaked, scratched, dirty and damn beautiful. “Come here, darlin’.” He held out his arms, and she walked into them with hesitation. For the second time that night, a sense of pride and a distinct thrill wound through him. “You’re going home with me, okay?”

She jerked away from him. “I-I can’t!”

“Why not?” Sorrow sliced him to the core at how quickly she’d torn out of his arms.

“Ezra will kill me.”

“He won’t touch you, Daffodil.”

She shook her head emphatically. “You don’t understand. He’s not…normal.”

“What do you mean?”

The instant the question left his mouth, she shut down on him. Her eyes dimmed. That gorgeous, pouty mouth flattened into a thin, gray line. All the color bled from her face.

“I can protect you.”

“It will only cause a gang war,” she said dully, her gaze pinned somewhere out over the valley.

“I own a cabin on a little piece of property away from the Werewolves of Rebellion,” he explained, lowering his voice so Jackknife had no chance of hearing him. “Only three people know about it, and I trust them with my life. You can stay there with me.” Cupping her face, he used his thumbs to brush dirt from her cheekbones. His supernatural senses whispered to him, telling him to give her another option without scaring her. “My cabin is on the west side of the creek just up from the Foraker Covered Bridge. There is a wetlands refuge on the right, and at the end of it a narrow dirt road goes straight up the hill. Halfway up is a lane that’s no more than a four-wheeler path, and at the end of it is my place. I go there when the chaos at the main house gets too much.”

She stood quietly as one second after another ticked by. He began to have hope that she may take him up on his offer. Then, without looking at him, she asked, “Can you just fix my car so I can go back to the MC?”

Stunned, he could only stare at her. His wolf howled that he’d never see her again if he let her go. His rational side told him that she was terrified of this Ezra guy and brainwashed from years of being passed around MCs as a sweetbutt.

“I’ll buy you,” he said. “But not to keep. I’ll buy you from the River Rebels, then you’re free to go wherever you please.” But he wanted to keep her, to make her his. Where the hell did that thought come from?

She jerked her head toward him, her amazed eyes meeting his. She stared at him in wonder for a long moment, then said, “Please fix my car.”

It took strength he didn’t know he had to walk over to the car. Once the hood was up, he soon found the broken wire and temporarily patched it with a Band-Aid Daffodil had in her purse. When he dropped the hood, he found her standing next to him with a gift bag.

“Would you give this to Bernadette, please?”

He accepted the tote. “Bernadette?”

She nodded, her lower lip trembling. He wanted to kiss it into submission.

“Tell her I can’t keep her gift. Ezra will just destroy it or give it to another sweetbutt just to hurt me. The shawl’s too beautiful to let that happen to it.”

“You’re too beautiful to let that happen too, honey,” he said before he could stop himself.

She leaned up on tiptoe and kissed his stubbly cheek. “See you ’round, Phil.”

With that, she got into the car, started it and pulled onto the road to drive down the hill, the car’s headlights sweeping the curves.

Watching her leave proved so painful that Phil almost felt like he was having a heart attack. Fuck, will she be all right? He didn’t know if he’d be able to sleep one wink tonight worrying about his leggy blonde.

Shuffling and the crunch of grit beneath hard-soled boots drew Phil’s attention. The big biker hauled himself to his feet. Upon seeing he had Phil’s attention, he held both hands up in compliance and shuffled half-bent over to his motorcycle. On the way over, he even stepped over his switchblade, leaving in the dust. The guy started his bike and rode around the bend and on down the twisting incline.

All Phil knew was that if he found out the jerk had hurt Daffodil despite his warning, he would make sure he made good on his threat.

Angry at the situation and the viselike grip that wouldn’t let go of his heart, Phil kicked up a plume of dirt, clenched his fists at his sides and let his inner animal free for a moment. The howl that tore from him echoed across the valley and bounced off the hillsides. Claws pushed out from his fingertips, and fangs dropped in his mouth, but before the shift could claim him any deeper, Phil forced his beast to obey and return to its dwelling place deep inside him.

After stowing the tote and the colorful item inside it into a saddlebag, he straddled and started his bike. The strange sense of loss that settled over Phil clung to him all the way back to the MC.

 

* * *

 

When Jackknife caught up with Daffodil in the compound, he escorted her indoors, his stance half-bent and shuffling. As fate would have it, one of the prospects had botched a drug deal in Morgantown, costing the MC thousands. Jess and a new sweetbutt, a bubbly Latina whose name escaped Daffodil, informed her that Ezra was in a pissy mood. They didn’t know all the details about the sale gone bad, but they’d heard enough of Ezra’s screaming to piece together the gist of the situation.

Stickman pointed for Daffi to sit with the other sweetbutts in the lounge, then motioned for Jackknife to follow him over to the bar. She caught bits of what Jackknife said as he explained what had happened outside Laings.

“You let a Werewolf of Rebellion get the best of you?” Ezra thundered.

The silence that followed fired needles of doom into Daffi’s heart. She waited, knowing what would come next.

“Daffodil Anastasia,” Ezra called as if he couldn’t wait to see her.

“Fuck,” Jess whispered. “Be strong, girlfriend.”

Approaching footsteps drew Daffi’s gaze to Ezra. He strode toward them as if he were the President of the United States instead of an outlaw biker gang. He stopped at their sofa and held out one long-fingered hand. “Come with me, my pretty little Russian.”

“Aw, honey,” Jess said sweetly. “Why don’t you let her get herself all dolled up for you first?”

The slap had so much power behind it that the force knocked Jess off the end of the couch. She sprawled face-first on the floor. She burst into tears, her nose pouring blood. Grabbing a handful of her shiny, black hair, Ezra jerked her to her feet, then flung her back on the sofa.

“That’s just a taste of what will happen to you if you ever talk to me like that again, bitch.”

Jess cowered in the sofa cushions and muffled her cries against her hands over her mouth.

Over at the bar, Stickman looked on with worry. As Ezra led Daffi across the MC and past the bar, she met Stickman’s eyes. He seemed truly afraid for her.

In Ezra’s office, the punch to her face dropped her like a boulder tossed from an airplane. She lay on the carpet in a dazed state, pain stabbing her face and skull.

“The only thing saving your ass is the fact you came back to me,” Ezra said as he paced the office. He paused at the minibar a few feet in front of her face. The rattle of ice bouncing into a glass was followed by the splash and glug of liquid. Dimly, she was aware of him turning so his heavy boots were facing her. His hand wrapped around a tumbler filled her sight.

“Here, take a healthy swig,” he ordered.

She rose onto one elbow and sucked in a mouthful of whiskey.

“Where is the shawl that redhead gave you?” he asked softly. “We don’t want anyone giving you false hope for something better in life, now do we?”

Daffi snapped her gaze up to meet his. “I don’t have it anymore. I gave it to the guy and asked him to return it to the woman.”

He sneered at her. “There is little you do that I don’t know about, my sweet, but you made a wise decision. Luckily, since that biker from the Werewolves of Rebellion fixed your car to get you back to me, I won’t send anyone to maim or kill him.”

Horrified by the idea of someone hurting Phil, she could only stare at Ezra and pray he wouldn’t make good on his tentative threat. And how in the fuck had Ezra known Bernadette gave her the shawl?

“Ah, your fear smells wonderful.” Ezra leaned closer, his palms flat on the floor next to her face, and sniffed along her neck. “But I do like the raw scent of your arousal better.”

He licked up the cord running the side of her neck. Hot need stabbed Daffi and she hated herself for it. She didn’t want Ezra any more than she wanted a rotting piece of steak. However he awakened the need for sex in her; she knew it was unnatural.

“I really need to curb my temper and jealousy,” he told her seductively, the timbre of his voice rolling over her.

More tendrils of need sliced into her core. She bit her lip to keep herself from moaning.

Using his index and middle fingers, he dipped them into the glass, then smeared liquor over the place on her cheek where he’d struck her. “Did you know whiskey can be used for bruises? It’s one of the bases for homemade liniment. An old woman once showed me the trick. Well, she was old on the outside, but inside she was still 21. Sadly, that one didn’t last long, but over time I’ve realized how to temper my nature and not use a woman up until she…well…” He shrugged, then stood. The thump of the tumbler hitting the bar top followed. Ezra stooped again, hooked Daffi under her arms and hefted her into a standing position. “Come, my Russian beauty. Let’s retire to my quarters for”—he grinned from ear to ear, his pale green eyes shifting to bright red—“some stellar makeup sex.”

He hooked his arm around her waist and walked out of his office with her at his side. “I’ll run a bath for you, make us some drinks and have one of the girls bring us a tray with some food.” He tucked his face to her neck and licked again.

The throbbing in her pussy intensified. Tears slithered down her face.

“Now, my sweet, I know you like me, but there’s no need to be emotional about it. Emotions are so frivolous.”

If she survived the night, she had to escape.

She had to… or die trying.

 

Chapter Nine

 

The late afternoon sun lowered to the treetops, forcing golden light to slant across the far side of the garden. Bernadette, her mother, Carol, Callie May, Puppy and Puppy’s mother all worked together harvesting pumpkins and gourds. They loaded them into a big wagon that Tractor had hooked to a rider mower.

“I bet the children will love these,” Bernadette’s mom stated. “Luella said the pumpkins are raised more for the kids than to sell.”

Bernadette smiled to herself as her mother chattered.

“Will the MC do anything for Halloween?” her mom asked.

“You know, I haven’t even thought about that,” Bernadette replied as she hefted a really fat pumpkin into the wagon. Once she had it in the cart, she paused to catch her breath. Again, she found herself scratching at her wrist. Nothing seemed to be there, but ever since the blue-eyed man had touched her, the skin where he’d rubbed his thumb seemed to continually tingle. “I’ll have to ask Frank or Luella,” she added.

“I think that’s all of them,” Carol, a chunky brunette, called across the garden to everyone. “Load up what you haven’t yet, then we’ll go down to the community so the kids and their families can pick which ones they want.”

Once everyone was finished, a few women, including Bernadette’s mother, rode in the cart among the harvest as others walked alongside the wagon, heading around the MC and down the long incline to the community. Instead of following them, Bernadette waved to her mom and ambled over to the outdoor wood burner that heated the MC. During the Claiming and Maiming, the backside of it had been mashed in and the blower that pushed the heat into the house had been damaged.

“Where’s Frank?” she asked upon finding Phil sorting through a toolbox. “I thought he was helping you with this?”

“He had to go into Rebellion for a part.” He turned his back to her, the howling wolfman silhouette in the center of his cut stark in the slanting sunshine. “He’ll be back anytime now.”

“I haven’t seen you around all week.” She waited for Phil to look up at her, but he kept his attention on the tools.

“Colder weather has upped the coal orders, so I’ve been working some overtime each evening.” He shrugged. “Plus I haven’t been fit company to be around people. Been staying at my cabin the past few days.”

Intrigued, she said, “I didn’t know you had a cabin.”

“When my parents were killed in a car wreck, I found out they’d left the place to me.”

“I didn’t know your parents were gone,” she replied, sympathizing with him. It would kill her if anything happened to her mother.

“Yeah, lost ’em when I was 16.”

“Well, I understand what it’s like to need a private place to go.”

He finally looked up at her. “You do?”

“Well, sure. I grew up with four older brothers who were usually a pain in my ass.” She laughed and sat on the cool, unkempt grass next to him. “There were times I’d crawl into the hedgerow behind our house just so I had a place that was all mine and no one would bother me. Had a little bare spot under it where I clipped out all the branches except the ones that kept my secret getaway hidden. Sometimes living here reminds me of growing up with my brothers.” She handed him a socket that had fallen out of the box. “I love everyone around here, but there are times the constant chaos and people coming and going can be too much.”

He snorted. “Yep, exactly.”

The tenseness in his shoulders, his jerky movements and the sour look on his face told her there was more behind his weeklong moodiness. “So what else is bothering you?”

Phil jerked his gaze up to meet hers. “Nothing. Why?”

“Remember?” She held her fist up, acting as though she was about to bonk him on top of the head. “I grew up with four brothers.”

At that, his face crinkled into a warm smile and he laughed. “Let’s just say it’s a woman.”

“Really?” She leaned over conspiratorially, winning another laugh from him. “Do I know her?” She glanced around. “One of the women gathering pumpkins?”

“No.”

“Aren’t you going to give me any hints?”

“Nope.”

“You’re no fun.”

His laughter deepened and grew longer. “Frank’s lucky. He has an awesome woman.”

At that, heat flooded her cheeks. “Aw, thank you.”

“You’re thanking Phil,” Frank said from a few feet away.

She looked over her shoulder at her sexy mate as he closed the distance between them, his long, muscled legs peeking through rips and tears of his old, tattered work jeans. He wore his cut over a flannel. The sleeves of his shirt, the black and blue checkers of it flattering his dark hair and eyes, were rolled halfway up his tanned arms, and his bright tattoos almost audibly clashed with the patterns of the garment, but on Frank they gave him a working-man look that Bernadette found super attractive. He’d let his goatee grow into a full beard that he kept trimmed neatly, giving him an even more dangerous look that almost made her cream her panties. Damn, she had one fine-looking mate. She smiled at him, putting all her physical desire and happiness to see him into an award-winning smile.

“Hey, sweetheart,” he said, leaning down to kiss her. “Why aren’t you down at the community passing out pumpkins?”

“Well, I initially came over here to see you and cop a feel,” she retorted, prompting a guffaw from Phil, who just shook his head, “but I didn’t know you’d left for town.”

He held up a brown paper bag. “Had to buy a thermostat.”

“Oh, by the way”—Phil took the bag from Frank—“in the workshop in one of my bike’s saddlebags is something I was told to give to you.”

“From whom?” she asked, curious.

“You’ll know when you see it.” He motioned to Frank. “Hand me the tools, dude.” He squeezed into the wood burner where he could reach the blower. “Let’s get this thing repaired,” he added, his voice tinny in the confined space surrounded by metal. “Tomorrow morning is supposed to be a heavy frost, so it’s gonna get chilly tonight.”

Casting Phil a perplexed look, Frank picked up the toolbox and moved it closer to where Phil was working. “Meet me in the workshop in about half an hour,” he told Bernadette.

“Okay.” She waved to him as she walked away.

Inside the workshop, she found a switch by the office door and turned it on. After opening the other door leading into the actual work area, she crossed over to Phil’s Harley with the aid of the light spilling through the doorway. She unfastened first one saddlebag, finding nothing, then did the same to the other. Inside the second one, the brown tote and its colorful shawl greeted her.

What the hell? Why did Daffi return my gift?

Bernadette didn’t know whether to be offended or not. As she stared into the bag, something Daffi had said about Ezra asking her how she could afford the shawl rose in Bernadette’s memory. What happened to force Daffi to return the gift? Certainly this Ezra guy hadn’t known about it. If he had, Bernadette guessed he’d have destroyed it to hurt Daffi.

Wait. How had Daffi given to Phil?

“Let’s just say it’s a woman.”

She sucked in a sudden breath, her hand going to her mouth. Oh, hell. Frank wouldn’t like it if Phil was seeing one of the River Rebels’ sweetbutts. It would cause friction between the MCs.

Phil was the type of guy who would treat Daffi with respect—if they were even seeing each other—so he’d be good for Daffi. Bernadette was unwilling to jump to conclusions, but all the clues—Phil, Daffi, the shawl, Phil’s moodiness—were all there blinking brightly in her mind.

For now, she wasn’t going to breathe a word of her suspicions to Frank. First, she had to talk to Phil. They’d become good friends over the last four months, so she knew with some kindness and a little cajoling that he’d open up to her.

Poor Daffi. If she was into Phil, the hell of being the River Rebels’ property must be a million times worse.

Quickly, she left the workshop and entered the MC, making her way through the kitchen, where several women were already preparing supper—it smelled like deep-fried chicken—and through the living and family rooms where several single women had already arrived for sweetbutt night. Erica reclined on one of the small sofas, her bare feet drawn up under her ass, and wiggled her fingers to Bernadette in a silly wave. Not wanting to be rude, Bernadette waved back and smiled before she turned and mounted the staircase. Something about the little blonde always rubbed her the wrong way, as though the young woman was only there to use the MC. She couldn’t explain why she felt that way, but Erica, as well as her two girlfriends she’d begun to bring to sweetbutt night, just seemed…manipulative? No, that wasn’t the right word. Whatever it was, all three women set Bernadette’s teeth on edge, especially Erica.

She stepped on something crunchy as she passed one of the older matrons, Betty Lou, from the community, who was running a vacuum upstairs.

“Sweeping during a full house?” Bernadette asked, then looked down at what had crunched underfoot.

Betty Lou shook her head in exasperation. “Just up here for now. The kids brought a bag of potato chips up during nap time and spilled them everywhere. I’ll vacuum downstairs in the morning.”

Smiling, Bernadette patted her on one plump shoulder, then entered her room and hurriedly placed the gift tote in the back of her bedroom closet. On instinct, she took the key from her purse, locked the door, shut it behind her and looped the key on its elastic band around her wrist.

Betty Lou was winding the vacuum cord as Bernadette returned downstairs. Erica was nowhere to be seen, but one of her friends—Kiki? Kendra?—was sitting on the floor by a coffee table playing cards with two of the younger prospects. Bernadette rushed out to the workshop, eager to meet Frank, and passed through the office and back into the garage again.

“I thought I’d gotten stood up,” Frank said from the shadows.

She jumped slightly. “Nah, had to run in to the house for a minute. It’s already packed in there for sweetbutt night. Maybe we should stay out here tonight,” she joked.

“Hmm… that might go with what I have planned,” he replied, his voice a low rumble that stirred Bernadette’s blood.

She couldn’t help staring at him as he emerged from the darkness cloaking the back of the shop. He’d shed his MC cut and had unbuttoned his flannel, revealing the dark blue undershirt. His belt hung unfastened, the button of his jeans unhooked too. The man oozed primeval sex appeal, and the power within her responded to it by simmering beneath her skin.

“If I don’t get to taste you now,” Frank began, “I don’t know how much longer I can last.”

“What do you mean?” Her voice came out as though she hadn’t spoken a word in years. The sexual heat in her mate’s eyes shot adrenaline through her limbs.

Frank reached her and took her by the waist. “It has been nearly two weeks since we’ve made love. I’m always busy, or you’re helping with another community task or project.” He looked directly into her eyes. In his black depths, raw need flared, then burned. “I plan to make love to you right here, right now.”

The hard bite of desire lodged in her lower abdomen where it grew heavy and hot. He pushed her yoga pants over her hips, then knelt to remove her canvas slip-ons before drawing the slacks on down her legs, over her feet, then off the tips of her toes. He kissed each toe of each foot, firing electrical sensations up her limbs to settle in her pussy, before he stood again to leave her wearing just her boy briefs and button-down shirt.

“I’ve missed you,” he said.

“I’ve missed you too.” She swallowed the lump in her throat. “I thought maybe that…”

He shrugged out of his flannel, then tossed it over the workbench. “Thought what?”

“Nothing.” She unbuttoned her shirt enough that she could pull it over her head. Sitting there in only her briefs and lacy support bra, she reveled in his heated gaze wandering her body.

“Damn, honey. You’re so beautiful.” He drew his undershirt over his head and threw it onto the pile of clothes accumulating into a pile, then stepped between her thighs, the warmth of his skin on her legs heightening her excitement. “Every time I look at you, I can’t believe you’re mine. The woman you are inside”—he tapped the spot above her cleavage—“makes you a hundred times even more gorgeous.”

“Gorgeous day for a gorgeous woman…”

She stiffened. Why would that man pop into her mind now?

“What’s wrong?” Frank asked. Concern marred his brow. “Would you prefer to go somewhere else?”

“As much as I like the smell of grease, welding smoke and paint,” she replied, “and as much as I want you, it would be nice to enjoy you without the chance of someone walking in on us.”

“Yeah,” he said. “I agree. No one’s allowed to see your tits or ass ’cept for me.”

She laughed. “You’re flowery way of talking is so sexy.”

“Like that, do ya?” He tipped his head to one side and offered her his most handsome, wolfy smile. “Well, I can do even better than that.”

He hooked his fingers into the waistband of her briefs. She rose onto one ass cheek, then the other so he could pull them down and off her legs. Moving to unhook her bra, she was intercepted as he pushed her hands away and unfastened the front clasp himself. Her breasts free of their confinement, he stared in appreciation, a soft smile tweaking one corner of his mouth.

“Damn, you have fine boobs.”

Amused, she said, “Hey, my eyes are up here.”

“I wasn’t talking about your eyes.”

Giggling, she shook her breasts at him, eliciting an appreciative groan.

He quickly shucked the rest of his clothes, then, standing fully naked, his cock hard and proud, he held his arms out. “Come here.”

She leaned forward, and he scooped her up to impale her on his length. With her tits pressed to his slightly haired chest, her pussy firmly planted against the root of him, and his length and girth stretching her so unexpectedly, she threw her head back, instinctively stretching and wiggling to seat him into her as far and as snugly as possible.

“Oh…Frank…”

He grunted, tensing. “Fuck, baby! Hold still or I might lose it.”

Her breathing grew more erratic. All she wanted to do was grind, but he held her still as he stood with his eyes squeezed shut, his face a mask of concentration.

“Don’t move,” he ordered. “Just hang on to me.”

She leaned forward and tucked her head into the crook of his neck, her arms under his, hands flat across his shoulder blades. Frank walked over to a corner where several coveralls were hanging, reached between two of them and opened a door.

“I didn’t know there was a door there,” she said.

“There’s a low loft upstairs with sleeping quarters,” he explained. “It’s not used often because it’s either too hot or too cold up there, depending on the season.”

He climbed the stairs, the tops of his thighs brushing her ass, his movements causing his cock to rub deliciously against her cervix.

“Damn, you feel so good…” She couldn’t restrain herself from wiggling.

“Umph…woman…”

Frank barely made it to the last step before falling onto a low bunk with her and instantly driving into her core. She snapped her legs around his hips, her back sinking into the roll-out mattress.

“That did it,” he groaned. “Fuck, I love your sexy little legs.”

He pumped into her, his cock nudging her deepest spot, his width spreading her so it both stung and delighted her. She moaned, clasping him to her, needing him as close as he could get, even willing to share the same skin if that were even possible. Damn, how she loved the sensation of his chest hairs sliding over her breasts, which had grown so heavy and tight she wondered if they’d explode. When he raised enough that he could dip his head and lick first one nipple, then other, she arched into him, tightening her legs, her feet hooked behind his knees.

He grunted. “Fuck, Bernadette…”

Thrusting harder, he pinned her to the mattress. All she could do was hang on to him and let him control their lovemaking. He pistoned his hips and she let her thighs fall open, giving him better access.

He groaned louder, raised himself until he was positioned on his knees and yanked her back onto his cock, her thighs splayed wide over his thighs as he gripped her hips. He drove into her repeatedly, his gaze locked to hers, the wolf within him evident by the amber glow of his eyes.

In this position, she was fully open to his cock, which found the deepest part of her and repeatedly assaulted her there. Her wrist began burning. She threw her arms over her head, finding the little headboard bars with her hands and raked the underside of her wrist across one of the cold bars to alleviate the stinging burn-itch, then she hung on as Frank pummeled her with his cock, her breasts jiggling, the pat-pat-pat of his pelvis against her ass loud in the little loft.

The aromas of dust, laundry detergent in the sheets, and hot insulation assaulted her sense of smell. The burn-itch assailed her skin behind the palm of her hand. She tore her gaze away from Frank’s, shutting her eyes, needing a slight reprieve from the intensity of his onyx orbs, and rubbed her wrist over the headboard bar again. The image of the blond, blue-eyed man flashed into her mind’s eye, his grin wide and toothy. Gasping at the unexpected picture, she glanced at the cheap, cream-colored panel board serving as the peaked ceiling, forcing the picture out of her brain.

Frank jerked her hips harder, his cock stiffening further. The fire licking through Bernadette swirled to her pussy, then settled in her core. Fluttering began in her passage. Everything inside her tightened until the coil deep within her core could stand no more. He thrust again, holding her there, his cock firmly pressed to her cervix. The fluttering transformed into a rhythmic clenching. Frank uttered a low moan and tugged on her hips harder. At that, his cock so tight inside her she didn’t know where she began and he ended, the rhythmic muscle actions exploded, taking her by surprise.

She stiffened as she arched her body, her hands so tight around the headboard bars that her fingers ached, and let out loud, warbling scream in the tiny room. Frank withdrew, then shoved into her, doing the same action again and again as if he were possessed. He stopped suddenly, his body tensing, his face a mask of euphoria, then his cock pulsed several times and heat bathed her cervix, flooding her inner walls as they both came simultaneously. He held her so tightly as he coaxed the last drops of himself into her that she’d have fingerprint bruises on her hips and ass, but she didn’t care. Those fingerprints showed ownership by a mate, her mate. Oh, how she loved him too. Her heart swelled with love and she held her arms out to him as he collapsed on top of her.

“You’re mine, Bernadette…” The blond man’s face rose in her mind’s eye again, forcing Bernadette’s magic to rise and attack the image. The stranger’s semblance wavered, then winked out like a dying cigarette ash.

Frank rolled to the side of her, placing his back to the wall, then lay tracing his fingers in a figure eight over the taut skin of her belly. She shut her eyes. Why was the man invading her mind?

“What’s this?” Frank touched her wrist that kept burning.

Her eyes flew open and she released the bars to look at her wrist.

“It looks like you have a fingerprint burned into your skin,” he said, his tone concerned.

“I don’t know,” she said. “It itches and tingles, though.”

“Better have Scary Mary take a look at it,” he said as he drew her hand to his nose and sniffed the spot. “It smells like magic.”

“But that doesn’t make any sense,” she replied. The memory of how the blond had grabbed her by the wrist jumped to the forefront of her mind.

“Just the same,” he murmured and pulled her over to spoon her, “have her take a look at it, okay?”

“I will.”

“Let’s have a nap, then start over.”

“What about supper?” She smiled to herself.

“Hell, it’s sweetbutt night, so there will be slim pickings after supper anyway. We’ll either go out for some pizza later or we’ll make up for it with breakfast.” He nipped the back of her neck, the rake of his teeth pushing goose flesh over her skin. “I like our little hideaway up here.”

She snuggled against him, rooting her ass into his lap and winning a low, rumbling growl from him. “Me too.”

“Hell, I’m ready again,” he snarled into her ear. True to his word, something rod-hard wedged into the crack of her ass.

“One nice thing about lycanthropes,” she quipped, “is that recovery time is short.”

“Roll over and present that round ass,” he ordered, flipping her over.

With a delighted squeal, she reveled in the sensation of him straddling the backs of her thighs and penetrating her.

 

Chapter Ten

 

The laughter and sounds of lovemaking from the living areas finally faded a little after one a.m. In his bedroom, Phil sat in a glider rocker, wearing just his boxers, his feet crossed at the ankles on the matching glider stool. The middle of October had provided a full moon. Many of the MC and the community had gone out to revel in the lunar cycle and roam the forest while the weather allowed it. It wouldn’t be long before bitter winds ravaged the mountains and heavy snow blanketed everything.

From his place by the bedroom window, he caught more lycanthrope figures loping across the lawns to disappear into the dark trees at various points. He’d thought about joining them, but preferred to remain alone tonight. Thoughts of Daffodil riddled his mind and he couldn’t shake the feeling she was in a dire situation—worse than being a woman in an outlaw gang. Something about this Ezra guy had his inner beast ready to attack.

It pissed him off that he couldn’t get his leggy blonde out of his mind. Worse, he couldn’t seem to get out of the habit of thinking of her as his. He kept telling himself there was no use in pursuing her. She was part of the River Rebels, had been sold to them, and one-percenters took their property, whether living beings or inanimate objects, very seriously.

But the haunted took in Daffodil’s eyes tortured him. Each time he’d stared into her light green eyes, he’d seen a soul who wanted freedom, happiness…a real life.

And fucking hell, he wanted to give her those things.

Phil reached for a tumbler on the lampstand next to him, the feeble light of the low setting bringing out the rich, amber tones of the glass’ contents. He knocked back the last big swallow of whiskey and thumped the cup on the stand, the dwindling ice cubes clattering angrily.

It had been six days since he’d seen Daffodil on the roadside. The sight of her swinging the long limb like she was wielding a broadsword had been burned into his brain forever. She’d been on a mission to go out fighting. He admired that. She had heart. Strength. All ingredients for a she-wolf.

The thought struck him as if someone had actually delivered the blow to his skull with a hammer. She-wolf? It wasn’t possible that he’d found his mate…was it?

What good was there in a mate he had no way to reach?

Frustrated, he rose and fished out a few more ice cubes from the ice bucket he’d brought up from the downstairs bar, then spun the cap off the Wild Turkey and splashed three to four fingers’ worth over the cubes. He plunked himself into the glider chair again, his irritation with the situation growing to explosive proportions. If he didn’t mellow out soon, his inner beast might wrestle its way out and wreak havoc, especially since the moon was full.

A few lycanthrope couples rushed down the slope to the pond, then skirted it to vanish in the tree line a few feet away from the water’s back edge. He wondered if Frank would turn Bernadette. Would she be open to being turned? He hoped Frank took good care of the ginger, because she was special and complemented the MC president in every respect. They made a good team.

Would he ever have that? Phil wondered. Again, he thought of Daffodil. Even if he was able to bring her into his life, she’d probably never accept that he was a lycanthrope, and hiding what he was just wasn’t an option.

He chugged a couple big mouthfuls of his drink. The burn slid down his throat and warmed his belly, calming him somewhat. He placed the tumbler on the stand again and sat with his fingers threaded together over his stomach, his gaze trained on the moonlit lawn sprawling below his bedroom window. He began to nod off. A random thought that he might just sleep in the chair that night flittered through his mind, then he succumbed to sleep.

She came to him, emerging from the shadowy corner of his room, her limbs smooth and glistening in the soft lighting. Barefoot and hips swaying seductively, the woman approached him in a delicate, red lace thong, but her luscious, ripe breasts remained bare.

“Phil, baby,” she said. “I want you to fuck me.”

He’d hoped his beautiful visitor was Daffodil, but he didn’t recognize this woman’s voice. He tried to see her face, but all he caught in the shadows was the chiseled line of a youthful jaw and the full poutiness of cherry-red lips. She raised a hand, then drew a long, red-painted index nail down from between her collarbones and into the canyon separating her heavy tits with their large areolas and pert nipples. His cock sprang to attention. He wanted to suck on those nubs, make this woman cry out in pleasure, feel her pussy contracting around him as she came.

“That’s right, Phil,” she crooned. Somehow she managed to jerk the glider around, a feat he marveled at considering he weighed over two hundred pounds and the chair had no swivel under it. His feet hit the floor, and she straddled his knees. “I’ll make you feel amazing, baby.”

Again, he tried to see her face, but her wide smile was all he saw before she dropped to her knees and pulled his straining cock free of his boxers. He gripped her hair, tugging her head down to his cock. Heat enveloped him, a heat that had him rocking his head back and bucking his hips.

“Fuck!”

It almost seemed as though he’d plunged his dick into hot oil. His balls tightened, then drew up against his body. The woman did things with her tongue that had him writhing on the seat, both hands in her hair, fingers tight in her locks. He tried looking down to see what color her hair was, to maybe gain a hint as to her identity, but he couldn’t move his head. Regardless, he succumbed to the sensations she was creating with her tongue, alternating them with a hard sucking. She drew the head of his cock to the back of her throat, the heat jumping several degrees, her soft palate caressing him.

“Oh, my…fuck!” He couldn’t stop thrusting.

The tingling at the base of his spine transferred to his balls, forcing them even tighter to his body. He had no control over his pelvis, couldn’t stop fucking her mouth, and just as he was about to explode, she released him with a sudden pop of her mouth.

He nearly cried out with frustration.

“Oh no, lover,” she whispered. “When you come, you’re going to be inside me so I can suck up every bit of your essence.”

Her words were as if someone had thrown gasoline on his flaming body. He couldn’t come without being inside her. It had been so long since he’d taken advantage of a sweetbutt, not finding any of them piquing his sexual interest, but this woman—he had to have her now.

He started to ask her if she’d brought a condom, but the instant she stood and wiggled out of that barely-there thong, all rationale jumped ship. She grasped his raging hard-on tightly, then pumped her hand once, twice, three times. He arched in the chair, a strangled cry ripping from his lips, and just as he thought he’d explode from her hand alone, she straddled his lap and sank down on his cock in one move.

“Ungh!” He bent like a longbow, his body so tense he wondered if he’d snap in two. She wriggled on him, bounced a couple times, then settled herself so he was buried in her to his hilt. The heat of her almost burned him. He gasped and groaned, rutted like a deranged man, and still she hung on, grinding his cock until he feared she’d actually melt it from his body with her fiery core.

“I’m going…” He gulped, unable to catch his breath. “I’m going to come…”

“Come for me, baby,” she whispered. “That’s it, come for me. Give me all you have. Let me have your essence…all of it now, now, now!”

The maniacal laugh she let out provided the ice-cold blast of reason Phil needed to snap out of his sex-hazed stupor. She bounced and rode him, her hands around his throat. Finally, he was able to focus on her. Red eyes stared back at him, pointed fangs protruded from the top and bottom of her mouth. Big, black horns jutted from the sides of her head, rolling back over her skull. She issued another deranged chortle.

“Give me your essence,” she squealed.

When he looked into her crimson eyes, hellfire stared back at him. He shouted, fear careening through him and, with lykoi strength, he threw her off him. She crashed to the wall opposite the bed, then fell to the long dresser top and rolled to the floor. The flat-screen TV toppled to the dresser and flopped facedown on top of it.

He jumped to his feet, heart flailing as though it would rip through his ribs, and jerked his boxers back over his waning cock. Keeping his gaze on the shadows where the woman-thing had landed, he reached for the lamp and turned the switch up to full brightness.

Nothing lay where the woman should be. The TV still rested on the dresser, so he knew something had hit it. Glancing around, his heart still racing, he examined every area he could see. Phil checked under the bed, in the closet.

“It had to be a dream,” he muttered as he crossed the room to his chair. “I’m stressed, so my dream turned into a nightmare.”

His pulse slowed, and he sat in the chair again, reaching for the remainder of the drink he’d poured earlier. After he turned the light back to dim and sat back with the tumbler in hand, a realization hit him. His glider was facing the wall opposite the bed when he’d been facing the window. The hair on his head, nape and arms stood at attention. A creak jerked his gaze over to the door, where it swung open about 18 inches, then quietly closed again.

Frozen in fear, he sat that way until he’d drunk half the Wild Turkey, but so much adrenaline jangled his system that he couldn’t sleep. Dawn soon bathed his room in grayness. He’d just dozed off when a woman’s scream tore through the house.

Phil leaped to his feet and raced out to the landing. He peered over the banister, but no one was in the living room and he couldn’t see into the family room. He jogged down the stairs, then through to the kitchen. There, standing between him and the table, their backs to him were Luella and Beastman.

“What the hell?” Phil grumbled. “What’s going on?”

Beastman stepped aside, drawing Luella with him.

“Holy shit!” Phil jerked back. If he got one more jolt of adrenaline, he’d surely die from it. He forced himself to calm down and focused on the scene before him.

In one of the straight-backed chairs, a mummified male sat with his head back and arms at his sides with his fingers pointed to the floor. His mouth gaped in the semblance of a scream, the lips so dried that they’d shrunken up past his teeth.

Phil frowned, then remorse gripped him. All the bikers wore jeans, cuts and usually a T-shirt with or without a pocket, but this guy had one distinguishing feature—the lack of a belt—and a habit that pissed Frank off to no end—drinking his Dos Equis. All but one of a six-pack of beer bottles sat on the tabletop. Walking between the corpse and Luella, Phil paused on the other side of the kitchen and stooped. There, lying on its side, a pool of liquid around it, lay the sixth Dos Equis bottle.

“Ass Crack,” Phil muttered. His heart ached. He’d really liked the young guy, having spent hundreds of hours working on bikes and riding the backroads together for something to do. Ass Crack’s off-beat sense of humor had never failed to cheer up Phil whenever he’d been down. “Fuck me sideways.”

 

* * *

 

Bernadette, Frank, Phil, Luella and Beastman all sat on the screened-in porch as Deputy Craig Williamscot asked them each a barrage of questions.

“Oh, thank you.” Bernadette accepted a fresh cup of coffee from Luella.

Her friend placed the carafe on a small, narrow coffee table, then sat next to her on the love seat. Police and forensic personnel trekked in and out of the MC like lines of ants. Several prospects had been corralled in the living room with sweetbutts in the family room as other deputies ran through a list of the usual queries about whereabouts, times and companions.

“I think that’s all the questions I have for now,” Deputy Williamscot said. He stood and slipped his ever-present notepad into his shirt pocket. “Oh, almost forgot.” He looked down at Frank, who was sitting in a recliner. “The autopsy report came back for Tony Edwards.”

“And?” Frank urged.

The man removed his black hat, rubbed his right forearm over his forehead, then replaced his hat. “It’s the damndest thing, Frank.” He offered them a baffled expression. “Other than the lack of fluids, the coroner had no idea how the vic died.”

“What the hell is that supposed to mean?” Frank demanded, sitting forward in his chair.

Bernadette placed a hand on his knee, and he wilted slightly.

“Sorry,” he said to the deputy.

“I know you’re worried, Frank,” Deputy Williamscot said. He looked at Bernadette, and she smiled back at him. “You have a mate now, the responsibility of a large MC and a growing community tied to your clan…I’d be worried too, my friend.” He sighed and waited as Frank processed his words. Finally, the deputy said, “As for the autopsy report, other than the lack of any moisture in the man, there was no cause of death. None of the tests performed revealed anything unusual.” He held his hands out in a placating manner. “The only sign of death was that someone”—he glanced around to make sure no one was wandering through the sunporch—“or some thing drained him of every ounce of moisture that composes a human being’s makeup.” He looked directly sat Bernadette. “Do you have any idea what could have done this to either of the vics?”

Frank stood suddenly. “Now what just a minute—”

“Babe, sit!” She swatted Frank’s ass. “The deputy doesn’t mean it the way you’re taking it.”

“I know she’s a natural witch, Frank,” Deputy Williamscot stated. “News—and gossip—travels fast in small communities. Regardless, if she’s apprenticing under Scary Mary, I figured she might have knowledge of what some of the possible culprits are, that’s all.”

“Fuck,” Frank whispered as he collapsed into his chair. “I’m sorry, Craig.”

“I understand.” The deputy leaned forward, bracing himself with his hands just above his knees, and looked into Frank’s face. “Like I said, you’re responsible for so many. Hell, you amaze me, because if I were in your shoes, I would’ve probably come unglued by now.” He looked back at Bernadette.

“I met with Mary a while back, and she warned me that the high priest of her coven was worried about this area, that there was a surge in evil.”

“What did she mean?” Luella asked.

Beastman mumbled something about black magic.

“We don’t practice black magic,” Bernadette tossed at him. She returned her attention to the deputy. “We don’t practice white magic, either, unless it’s absolutely necessary. With every spell, whether black or white, there’s a price to pay.”

The deputy nodded. “Go on.”

“We can’t pinpoint what the evil is unless it reveals itself, so the reason it’s here is unclear too.”

“I think I saw it.”

Bernadette whipped her head toward Phil sitting on a footstool across from Frank. “What? When?”

“Fuck, Phil. Why didn’t you say something earlier?” Beastman groused.

“I thought I was fucking dreaming, that’s why!”

Phil met Bernadette’s gaze. The worry and indecision she saw in his eyes pulled at her heart.

“What happened?” she asked, keeping her voice firm but gentle.

Hesitantly, he told the deputy what had transpired. Each detail Phil shared forced Bernadette’s fear up additional notches. Beside her, Frank leaned forward, elbows on his knees, his shoulders quivering with tension.

“So when I thought it was just a dream,” Phil finished, his voice shaky, “I realized the TV was still face down on the dresser. Then the door opened, stood ajar enough for someone to pass through, then it shut as if someone had closed it as they left.” He shut his eyes for a moment then opened them again. “Then I heard Luella scream in the kitchen.”

“Surely whatever it was couldn’t have left you and killed Ass Crack that fast,” Luella said.

Beastman snorted. “Yeah, that would give the word nymphomaniac a whole new meaning.”

“I don’t believe you said that!” Luella delivered a well-placed elbow to her mate’s ribs.

“Ouch, woman!”

“It would seem that whatever the culprit is,” Deputy Williamscot interrupted them, “that there is more than one.”

It was the same theory Bernadette had come up with too. She sat quietly as the others stared at him in dismay.

“What do you think giving that demon-woman your essence meant?” Bernadette asked Phil. Embarrassment singed her cheeks. “What I mean is—do you think she just wanted you to come, or could she be trying to get pregnant?”

Terror swept over Phil’s face, his whole body going rigid as he gaped at her. “Holy shit, Bernadette. I don’t know. Hadn’t thought about it…until now.”

“Do you…?” She tried to convey her meaning with her eyes. “You know.”

He shook his head. “Almost, but no. The damn thing scared the hell out of me before I finished.”

“What about the wards?” Luella asked, turning to Bernadette.

Bernadette raise her cup to her lips but paused at her friend’s question. “Until now, nothing has happened since Tony was killed, so we have no way of knowing if the wards have even been working.” She looked at the porch door, then over at the two steps leading into the kitchen. “Has anyone been making sure the salt line is unbroken?”

“I’ve replaced it every night,” Luella stated, “but last night I forgot because someone dropped a jar of pickles out of the fridge last night and it shattered everywhere and Betty Lou cleaned it up.”

At the mention of the older woman, Bernadette sucked in a breath. “Betty Lou was sweeping upstairs during supper preps. She said the kids had dumped a bag of chips on the landing and down the hall during naptime, so she was up there running the vacuum.” She touched Luella’s arm, then glanced at Phil, who stared back with realization in his eyes. “I bet she swept up the salt lines along the doorways without thinking.”

“What if the salt isn’t even keeping these evil things out?” Beastman asked. “What if we’re just assuming it works, but these demon women are immune to salt?”

“I don’t know that I believe in demons,” the deputy stated.

Frank jerked his head up and asked, “Why not? You didn’t believe in lycanthropes, either, then you met me.”

“Well, I…” Deputy Williamscot paled. “Hell, you’re right, Frank. If werewolves exist, who knows what else might be real too.”

“Do you think that…?” Phil began, then sighed and leaned his head back on the chair, eyes closed.

Bernadette sipped from her coffee as they waited for Phil to continue, but as the minute stretched out she decided to prod him. “What’s on your mind, Phil?”

He turned his attention to the deputy. “I think it’s strange that with human trafficking now in the Rebellion area that these incidences with the…the sucked-dry deaths…well, it can’t be coincidence, can it?”

“What human trafficking?” Luella asked. “Here? In Rebellion?”

The coroner’s transport van pulled up onto the carport. As the personnel exited the vehicle, then rapped on the porch door, Bernadette grimaced and looked away. Poor Ass Crack. He’d been such a sweet guy. They all remained silent until the crew had secured the body and left with it on a stretcher they loaded into the back of the van.

Once they were gone, they all looked at one another, the finality of Ass Crack’s death settling over each one of them.

“What was his real name?” Bernadette asked Frank.

“Jason Monty,” he said. “He’s had the nickname Ass Crack for as long as I can remember.”

“Look,” the deputy began, “I think we have all the information we need. Forensics is nearly done in the kitchen, and I have to get back to the office.” To Luella he said, “The human trafficking problem has been in the Ohio Valley for years”—he inclined his head to Phil—“so I highly doubt it has any ties to your…supernatural problem here at the MC.” Next, he stare pointedly at Frank, then at Beastman. “But there have been a few people reported missing in neighboring communities, so I would keep an eye on your women and youngsters from the age of six up—just in case. No one should travel around here alone, or let their children out of their sight.”

“Fucking great,” Luella grumbled. “This is all we need to worry about on top of everything else.” She glanced at her mate. “And Beastman’s already stuffed up my as 24/7 as it is.”

Deputy Williamscot chuckled. “I’ll see you folks around. Call the sheriff’s department if you remember anything that might help Ass Crack’s case.” He tipped his hat to Frank. “You know how to reach me if you need help outside of the department.”

Frank nodded.

As the deputy hurried out to his cruiser, Bernadette reached over and threaded her fingers with Frank’s. He squeezed back, giving her his strength and comfort. As soon as she could get away, she needed to meet with Scary Mary.

Something was bent on destroying the Werewolves of Rebellion.

 

Chapter Eleven

 

Daffi couldn’t move. She just didn’t have any strength.

Ezra continued to ride her, having fucked her raw hours ago. He grunted over and over, his plunges deep, his appetite for sex unlike anything Daffi had ever encountered. Hell, she’d been with some really randy men before, but Ezra thrived on fucking, as if each time he screwed her, the more aroused he became, so he had to continue the rounds of sex to feed his addiction.

He pumped into her with ferocity. She didn’t know how many times he’d fucked her since yesterday, but she hadn’t left Ezra’s bed for at least 24 hours. He’d barely give her a reprieve before putting her in a new position and fucking her again. Ezra pulled out, held his cockhead poised at her entrance, then rammed home again. The god-awful cold he spread into her began anew, and Daffi moaned in arousal. If possible, Ezra’s cock grew even harder. She could do nothing to fight him, nothing to chase away the terrifying iciness that claimed her and the hellfire orgasm that clenched her insides until she leaped into its flames once more.

As the pleasure-pain accumulated in her core, Ezra began his maniacal chuckles. Daffi let her tears flow. He fucked her so hard that something popped in one of her hips. Exhausted, she could only lie there. He threw his head back, eyes blazing red, and stiffened as he came, his cock shooting his icy needles into her core, the chill spreading into her pussy, up into her lower abdomen and down into her inner thighs. Daffi’s screams of half pleasure and half agony as her passage clenched greedily at him sent Ezra into another pounding round of thrusts as he milked the last bit of himself into her body. He growled and grunted like a ravenous beast.

Panting, he lay on top of her for a moment, then bit her neck. She whimpered as the pain of it shot up into her head and simultaneously into her throat. When he released her, warmth trickled over her skin.

“That’s my pretty Russian Daffodil,” he said, mimicking her accent. He pumped a few more times, then finally slid free of her body. “I’d fuck you some more, but if I do, I might drain you of what little that’s left.” He tweaked her nipple, and to her horror, the weird pleasure-pain spiraled straight to her pussy. “I don’t want to lose my sweet, sweet girl.” He stood and walked over to the bar, where he poured two stout drinks. He brought a tumbler back for her, lay across the bed, then lifted her head. “Drink,” he ordered. “Drink all of it, then sleep. I’ll fuck you some more tonight.”

As ordered, she gulped down the whiskey, the burn of it welcome after the mind-numbing cold with which Ezra had polluted her body.

He leaned her head back on the pillow, and she gazed into his hellfire eyes. When he looked at her, he grinned, showing jagged teeth too. He blinked, extinguishing the red glow of his eyes. “Sorry, my sweet. Don’t need you freaking out on me, now do I?”

He left her to lie quietly. “Sleep. I’ll be back at nine tonight. We’ll fuck more then.”

She listened to him as he showered, dressed, then left without another word to her. Relieved, she lay there, too weak to even sob. Hot tears burned their trails down the sides of her face to pool in and around her ears.

She’d done a lot of shitty things in her life, things she’d probably go to hell for, but this…this was worse than hell. She turned her head so she could see his cell phone propped up in its charging dock. It was nine a.m. She had 12 hours before the monster returned.

Daffi let herself slip into oblivion.

 

* * *

 

Consciousness tickled Daffi’s mind until she finally swam up out of sleep’s dark embrace and opened her eyes. Cognition rolled over her with the weight of a million tons.

She was still in Ezra’s quarters, in his bed, barely alive after he’d fucked her into near oblivion, and now she had to clean herself up and wait for him to return like the dutiful sex slave she was.

But she couldn’t move. Hell, it was effort just to let her heart pump.

She sought out the glow of the cell phone on the bedside table. It showed it was a few minutes past five p.m. Four hours until the insane beast returned. Hopelessness nearly suffocated her.

She had pulled her big-girl panties up and had gone toe-to-toe with Jackknife, so why couldn’t she do the same with Ezra?

Snorting, she mentally ticked off the reasons—nowhere to go, no one to help her, no money to survive on. She didn’t even have enough cash for gas to drive far enough to reach another town big enough where she could vanish.

Daffi had no hope.

A high-pitched keening had her looking around for the source of the sound. Suddenly, she realized the noise was coming from her as tears burned her eyes and wetted the hair around her temples. Get your mind off your situation and think of something good. Daffi frowned. What the fuck? I don’t have any good memories.

Then Phillip Andrews’ face formed in her mind, and all the upset, the confusion and her fear faded for a moment. Phillip. She focused on his chocolate-brown eyes. He called himself Phil, but she liked his full name of Phillip better. He looked like a Phillip with that strong jawline, neatly trimmed the dark hair and beard that framed his handsome face. He’d treated her with respect, something she hadn’t encountered in…well, she couldn’t recall anyone who had treated her so nicely.

“My cabin is on the west side of the creek just up from the Foraker Covered Bridge. There is a wetlands refuge on the right…”

Phil’s words wafted through her mind, a friendly breeze of alternative, of escape.

But did she dare?

With enormous effort, she rolled to the bedside and sat up, where she swayed, almost falling out of the bed. Nausea almost forced her to vomit. Although she knew Ezra wasn’t human, she had no idea what he really was and how he could drain her of all her strength just by screwing her. If she didn’t get away from him, away from the River Rebels for good, she wouldn’t last much longer.

Maybe if she could sneak out before Ezra returned she’d be able to reach Phil’s place. Her car was on a quarter tank of gas. Hopefully that was enough to reach his cabin.

If not, she’d crawl the rest of the way.

 

* * *

 

As another evening drew near, Phil sat on the back stoop toking on his pipe, the aroma of cherry-scented smoke twirling around his head. The air, riddled with the nippy taunt of impending snow, rushed across the lawn, ruffling leaves, gold and deep red chrysanthemums and the tall, unruly grass. It snatched the pipe smoke and hurled it high into the air where the white clouds dispersed.

Two does stood at the pond getting water. Phil contemplated shifting and giving chase, but no one really needed the meat right now for their freezers and he couldn’t see killing the deer for sport either, so he remained on the stoop, content to watch them drink and graze.

More winter-sprinkled air gusted over him. Early that morning, frost had blanketed everything. The women had been lucky to gather the last of the garden harvest when they had. Phil dreaded winter. He couldn’t ride his Harley, and it seemed all he got done was work his day job or haul coal and wood for folks to heat with in the community or here at the MC. He especially hated the idea that the cold drove people indoors, so encountering Daffi somewhere would be next to impossible unless he waited outside her workplace, which would be dangerous for her if the wrong person noticed.

He sighed. Damn, he wanted to see her so badly.

But why? What about the leggy blonde had him so tied in knots? Sure, she was a looker, a classic blonde bombshell who could step into the 1950s with class and poise and blend in with Hollywood without anyone ever being the wiser.

Her eyes, however, told a story of a woman who had gone through hell. The pain he saw in their green depths spoke to him. Phil wanted to protect her.

He wanted to sink his cock balls-deep into her and feel her wrap her arms and legs around him, holding him so tightly he couldn’t breathe.

Toking on his pipe and blowing smoke, he shook his head and waited for the scented haze to dissipate, then sought the area where the does had been frolicking. If he took Daffodil away from the River Rebels it would start a war. That aside, he couldn’t bring her here with something evil preying on the Werewolves of Rebellion. He wanted to protect Daffodil, not put her in even more danger.

The wind changed direction, blowing out of the east. The gale ripped yellow and orange leaves free and hurled them into the air. They gyrated and swooped across the lawn, some catching on thick patches of unmown grass. Others clustered at the bases of trees and along the edge of out buildings and the backside of the workshop. The iciness of this wind took Phil’s breath away, and he turned his head until the gusts passed.

Clouds rolled in from the east too. Phil stared up at them in awe. It wasn’t the first time he’d seen a storm approach from the east, but it sure didn’t happen often. The fat clouds grew bigger, blacker, their edges trimmed in indigo that brightened eerily as lightning flashed. The area grew darker with the deepening twilight and the cloud coverage.

A crack of lightning startled him and he jumped where he sat on the step.

Cold gripped him, but this time it was the cooler weather. Icy fingers brushed through his hair, the wind pulsating as if it were actually breathing. His breath materialized in front of him. At the edge of the pond, the does looked up, then around, their movements quick, wary. They flipped their tails, then bounded into the woods with their tails straight up, signaling danger, the white of them stark in the gloom.

Unease, an even colder snake of discontent, slithered over Phil, winding about him in a choke hold of jeopardy. His hair tightened over his scalp, and his inner beast stirred at the sensation of danger. Phil smelled the air and drew it deep into his nose. There was something afoot, something supernatural.

Something evil.

Daffodil’s face emerged in his mind’s eye. Tears stained her cheeks and she appeared dead tired.

In that instant, he jumped to his feet, his pipe tumbling to the step. The glowing ash burst from it and scattered all over the stone.

He had to go to his cabin—now.

 

* * *

 

Daffi dressed in slim, formfitting jeans, a cami under a light sweater, and donned heavy socks with her knee-high, flat-heeled boots. Woozy and exhausted, she stumbled around her unit grabbing things she could stuff into a backpack Jess had given her. Two of everything landed in the bag from pants to tops to underwear and bras. She stuffed toiletries, tampons, and basic makeup into the second compartment along with two bottles of perfume, one of which was Hawaiian Ginger, something she felt compelled to pack when she remembered Bernadette’s compliment.

The door swung open, startling Daffi so badly that she cried out softly and stumbled against the bed.

“I’m sorry,” Jess whispered and shut the door. “Didn’t mean to scare you.”

Daffi swept her friend with her gaze. “What are you doing?”

“I’m going with you.”

“Jess, this could end badly for me.”

“Just take me into Rebellion,” Jess pleaded. “I’ll figure things out from there. I’ve been here six months and still don’t have a car, so going with you is my only mode of escape.”

The desperate look in her friend’s eyes was Daffi’s undoing. How could she say no when she knew exactly what Jess was feeling?

“All right.” She nodded to the big shoulder bag Jess had slung over one shoulder. “Do you have everything you need in that thing?”

“Yep.” Jess grabbed the doorknob. “Ezra will be back in an hour, so we need to haul ass.”

With the backpack on, Daffi followed her into the hall. They made their way through the living units and down to the main floor to the hub of the MC. They ducked behind the jukebox and waited for an opportunity to make it to the next hiding spot. Daffi’s vision blurred. If her heart pumped blood any faster through her system, she’d pass out, but she couldn’t screw up now. If she didn’t take this chance, there may not be another one.

“I think everyone is occupied,” Jess said.

“We’ll go into the storage room and out the back,” Daffi whispered. “If we try going out the main entrance, someone will stop us.”

Fairly certain it was safe to move, Daffi rose and pressed herself to the wall, using the dim lighting to her advantage. She moved steadily and slowly until she reached the other corridor leading through the prostitutes’ quarters then on down the hall to a door that opened into the storage area. There shouldn’t be anyone in there right now, but she prepared herself for the worst anyway.

“You ready?” she mouthed to Jess.

Jess nodded, her dark eyes so wide the whites of them almost glowed.

Summoning a tiny bit more strength, Daffi pushed the door open and waited for someone to stop them or holler asking their business there. Silence reigned except for soft crying from where the cages sat, and darkness cloaked everything.

Rummaging came from Jess’ bag, then light flooded where they stood. “I thought a flashlight might come in handy, girlfriend.” Jess grinned, revealing her missing tooth.

Daffi took a long two-by-four from a broken crate and wedged one end under the door handle, lightly kicking the other end closer to the door to wedge the wood tightly. She started across the old warehouse section and passed the cages.

“Please,” a Latina about 17 said. “Let me out.”

“Let us all out.”

At the second voice, Jess swung the light over to find a boy of about 12 staring back at them with big, sad eyes. Daffi guessed him to be Native American.

“Please,” the boy said. “Just let us out so we at least have a chance to escape.”

“Me too, please,” another feminine voice joined in. “I’m the guardian for my little sister. There’s no one else who can take care of her.” She blinked and tears rolled down her face. “I’ve got to get home.”

Jess panned the beam over to a woman in her early 20’s, a redhead with heavy freckling over her face and huge, expressive brown eyes. “Fuck, I don’t need this,” she whispered, drawing Jess’ attention back to her. “I can’t let them…” She met each victim’s eyes. “Fuck it. Ezra keeps an extra key over there behind the fire extinguisher.”

“What the fuck, Daf? We can’t take them with us.”

“I can drop them at the sheriff’s office, then keep moving.”

Jess nodded, hurried to get the key, then began quietly unlocking cages. The prisoners rushed over to Daffi, who stepped back. They all began thanking her at once, but she silenced them with a stern look and her hand up, palm out. “You must be quiet or someone will find us!” she hissed. She looked the victims over. None of them had any clothes other than underwear. “It’s cold out and I don’t have any blankets, but if we can get to my car, I’ll turn the heater up, then the sheriff’s office will be warm too. I bet someone there will have blankets.”

They all nodded.

“We move together,” she told them, also looking at Jess. “Anyone who falls behind is left, got it?”

The prisoners all nodded again.

“Let’s go,” she said.

Daffi nudged the door on the far end of the room open a hair and peeked out. The cold weather had driven all the bikers indoors, thank God. Night had descended, the darkness heavier than usual. She peered upward, but couldn’t see because of the security lights. It smelled like snow, so she’d wager there was heavy cloud cover.

“Follow me and stay close,” she said over her shoulder.

Her car, parked around front, sat alone. Other vehicles were parked closer to the door. They waited behind a gas tank as several MC members clambered out of pickups and a Mustang and filed inside. Blaring country-western music now pulsed inside the MC. With relief, Daffi allowed herself a small smile. The wailing tunes would cover any outside noises such as her starting the engine.

Daffi dug her keys out of her jeans pocket, then jogged to her Ford Focus. Behind her, footsteps followed and Jess kept pace with her to one side. She hit the button to disengage the locks, and everyone climbed into her car as she jumped behind the steering wheel. She started the car and quietly backed up and turned around. She wanted to mash the gas pedal and tear out of the lot, but she needed to exercise calm. If she lost her mind now, gave over to fear and desperation, she’d be caught—they all would be.

Ten minutes up the road to Laings, she started to sob. Jess’ cries joined hers. Reaching out, Daffi waited for Jess to take her hand. Her friend threaded their fingers together, and, from between the front passenger seats, the victims each placed a hand on top of Daffi’s and Jess’ linked ones.

 

* * *

 

Daffi waited as the prisoners now with first names—Joseph, Rita, and Zoe—disappeared around the side of the sheriff’s office, their bodies riddled with goose flesh, feet bruised from parking lot stones, and wearing only their underwear, but now they were free. They’d all see their families again.

“You did good, girlfriend,” Jess said softly.

As Daffi turned at the green light, she had to admit that helping those people did feel good, wonderful in fact. She smiled and realized she didn’t want to part ways with her friend. “Why don’t you go with me?”

“Yeah?” Jess grinned back, her missing tooth somehow endearing. “Where you goin’?”

“I know of a place,” she began, “where I was invited. Haven’t been there, but I have a good idea where it is and it’s not too far. It’s secluded, so we’ll be safe.”

Jess sat quietly for a long moment, then replied, “Sounds good. But I won’t stay long, maybe a day, possibly two. I have a cousin who offered to come get me if I could get away from the MC long enough to contact her.”

“Let’s do this,” Daffi said and made the turn leading out of Rebellion.

 

Chapter Twelve

 

Normally Phil only went to his cabin when he wanted away from the chaos of the club, but something in his head was screaming at him to go there now. He drove his pickup too fast. Urgency kept his foot mashed to the gas pedal. Along the road following the Little Muskingum River, he forced himself to slow down. The county had laid fresh gravel, and racing his pickup on sharp turns would quickly deposit him into the creek.

As another pickup approached, its headlights momentarily blinding Phil, he forced himself to pull over and stop so the truck could pass without mishap. Once it was behind him, he stomped the gas pedal, spraying the air with gravel, and drove past the protected marsh area until he reached the upcoming turn-off leading up the hillside to his place.

Rounding the slight bend, he slowed, then cursed. Another set of headlights approached. The other car put its signal on to go right up the hill. He frowned. No one used that road except for himself, some hunters who camped on up the mountain from him, and farmers who wanted to cut firewood or reach small hay meadows.

As the car began to turn, he recognized it. His heart leaped, his breathing grew faster and he stood on the brake, then put the truck in neutral and set the emergency brake. He flipped his signal on. The other car halted. He waited for a good minute, but the Ford didn’t turn, nor did the driver’s door open. She just sat there staring at his truck. There was someone in the passenger seat with her, but Phil couldn’t make out who it was or even if the person was male or female.

What was she doing?

He got out of the truck and approached her car with his hands out to his sides so she could see he didn’t have a weapon.

The driver’s door flew open and she stepped out. Fuck, she looked like death warmed over, but a hesitant smile tweaked the corners of her mouth and some of the fear drained from her eyes, softening the worry lines around them.

Phil moved to within a couple feet of the driver’s side of the bumper, then halted, fearful he’d scare her away. “Come here, baby,” he coaxed firmly.

She moved around the door and paused.

Phil raised his arms, palms facing each other, offering his embrace. Daffodil launched herself at him, and he enveloped her in a tight embrace, burying his nose in her hair. She trembled so hard that the vibrations penetrated his heavy jacket and into his chest.

“You remembered what I said about my cabin,” he stated.

She nodded with her face pressed to his jacket front.

“Were you followed?” he asked.

“I don’t think so,” she replied so softly he almost didn’t hear her.

“Who’s with you?”

“Jess. She has someone coming for her in a day or two.”

“Not a problem,” he said and tightened his arms around her. “Are you ready for things to get crazy? You know this Ezra dude will come after you.”

“I had to get away.”

At the tears in her voice, he found himself wanting to go straight to the River Rebels’ MC and rip Ezra’s throat out.

He moved back slightly so she’d look up at him. Before he could stop himself, he brushed his lips over hers once, twice, then three and four times. She tasted so sweet, a combination of peppermint and her own soft, delicious flavor. If he didn’t stop now, he’d kiss her silly.

When he raised his head, she blinked a few times. She gazed at him in surprise, but stretched up on tiptoe and kissed him lightly, once.

“Let me protect you, baby. I’ll keep you safe.” Phil willed his sincerity through his eyes, hoping like hell she believed him.

She smiled, the expression deepening the green of her eyes and erasing stress from her face. “I’d like that.”

Elation rushed through his blood, and he grinned back at her. “Drive up the hill until you see a lane on the left about halfway up. Turn onto it and follow it to the end, where you’ll see a cabin and a garage near it. I’ll be right behind you.”

He made sure she was in the car and turning before he got in the truck and drove behind her with just the fog lights on so as not to blind her. He couldn’t believe she’d come to him, but here she was regardless. The haunted look in her eyes, the exhaustion evident in her face and the way she held herself told him something terrible had happened to her. He gripped the steering wheel in anger. His knuckles protested and his fingertips burned with claws that wanted to protrude. Forcing his wolf at bay, he focused on the Ford’s taillights.

It was wonderful to finally have Daffodil with him, but would she accept him? An even bigger question plagued him. Would the River Rebels declare war on the Werewolves of Rebellion, or just Phil? He figured he had at least a couple days before Ezra figured out where she’d gone. Until then, he’d have to come up with a way to broach the subject with Frank.

Now that he had Daffodil, he didn’t want to give her up.

 

* * *

 

Driving her mother home from a shopping trip, Bernadette slowed to make the turn at the gate. Headlights flashed, followed by Phil’s Dodge shooting through the entrance and heading toward the hill leading to the creek.

“My goodness,” her mother said. “What’s his hurry?”

Bernadette said nothing, but it wasn’t like Phil to drive so recklessly. Either something had happened at the MC, or he’d been called away on a personal matter. A woman matter.

She drove silently along the lane and stopped in the center of the community. Tired, she didn’t relish unloading the numerous bags full of items her mom had bought and huffing them up the path and around the back of the main bungalow to her mother’s little home.

A few minutes later, Bernadette handed her mother the last of her booty at the front door. “I’ll see you tomorrow, Mom,”

“Do you want to come in for a cup of coffee?” Her mother placed the final shopping bags on a wingback chair next to the entrance.

“No, after all the stress of another weird death at the MC and all the running around today, I just want to go home and crash.” She gestured at the bags of cloth, threads and numerous other sewing supplies that her mother had bought that evening. “You sure you got everything you needed?”

“Well, what I don’t have, I thought you or Luella could help me find and order online.”

“That works,” she said, chuckling. It pleased Bernadette that her mother had decided to go back to sewing clothes and doing alterations to earn some extra money. Her mom was very talented and had given up her little out-of-home business when she found herself having to support five children on her own. “I’m sure you’ll find some interesting things online that aren’t in any of the stores.”

Her mother walked over and hugged Bernadette. A blend of citrus and spices, her mom’s favorite perfume, wafted over her. “Thank you for helping me today, honey. Get some rest. Love you.”

“Love you too. Night!” Bernadette shut the door behind her, then waited for the click of the bolt lock. After it snapped into place, she made her way along the little flagstone path and out to the lane where Frank’s pickup sat idling.

She reached the top of the hill and parked the truck in front of the workshop’s garage doors, then exited and went straight into the house.

“I was just getting ready to lock up for the night,” Luella said, meeting her at the porch door. “Did Maeve find what she needed today?”

“Yeah, but I should’ve rented a U-Haul.”

Luella laughed, then shut the storm door and locked it behind them. “If you want a snack, Puppy baked a couple box cakes for tonight’s dessert.”

“Nah, I’m beat. Good night.”

Luella wiggle the fingers of one hand at her, then sat at the kitchen table, where a cup of coffee puffed steam into the air.

At the top of the stairs, Bernadette couldn’t wait to crawl into bed next to Frank’s hard, warm body. She paused to take off her leather loafers and thin socks, then wiggled her toes in the carpet piling. Putting her socks inside her shoes, she wondered if Frank was already asleep, but since he was stressed too, she figured he’d crashed the instant his head had hit the pillow. Maybe she could kiss him on some points of interest and gradually awaken him. She grinned and opened their bedroom door.

Darkness greeted her save for the hurricane lamp in the far corner, which he’d switched on low for when she got home. Amber illumination spilled over the carpet and kissed the foot of the bed. Frank lay on his back, one arm to his side and the other across his lower abdomen.

As she undressed, she enjoyed the view of her shirtless mate, his wide shoulders pressing into the pillow, his tattoos only dark patterns in the dim lighting. She sighed. The love she felt for him, powerful and intoxicating, often left her in a state of wonderment. He looked so peaceful, his breathing deep and even, that she decided not to disturb him.

Disrobing, she kept her gaze on him, then took her laundry to the hamper. She donned a clean T-shirt and panties, then crawled into bed next to him, careful not to jostle him too much, then checked to make sure the dish of table salt still sat on her nightstand. It might not be strong enough to deter anything powerful, but after what had happened to Phil, having the dish nearby for even minimal protection made her feel a little safer. She lay on her side facing him and traced the outline of his profile with her eyes. Soon, sleep touched her and she let herself succumb to it.

 

* * *

 

Bernadette awoke with her bladder protesting its fullness. She mentally cursed that extra glass of iced tea she’d drunk when she’d stopped at a sandwich shop with her mom. Lying there for a moment, she got her bearings, then flipped the covers back and sat up on the edge of the bed.

Beside her, Frank moaned. She looked over at him lying on his side facing her. He moaned again, the sound of it erotic, as though he was in the throes of making love. Bernadette leaned over and brushed his hair from his face, then kissed him on the jaw. With a big sigh, he rolled over onto his back again and seemed to settle back into sleep.

She got up and padded into the bathroom. Upon reaching the doorway, an image of the blond stranger at the courthouse rose in her mind. Desire pooled in her lower belly. She gasped and steadied herself against the doorframe. Power simmered under her skin.

“Begone!” Bernadette whispered.

His semblance forced its way into her mind again, his eyes feral and bright blue, smile wide and triumphant. A stab into her pussy, as if a man had truly penetrated her with his cock, sent a hard coil of need into her. The sensation nearly buckled her knees, forcing her to dig her fingers into the doorframe to hold herself up. Something stung her skin under her wrist. She turned her hand over to find the thumbprint-like burn glowing soft red.

“I. Said. Begone!” She forced her power out and into the man’s image, generating magic to send it on its way. His face shattered, the mirror-like pieces of it twirling in her brain, then fizzling out one shard at a time.

Shaken, her power drained with the effort to banish the… She frowned. Who or what was the blond?

By a nightlight, she found her way to the toilet and sat on the seat. As she peed, Frank stirred again, his moans louder, more intense. What the hell? She certainly hoped he was dreaming about her, but after the psychic attack she’d just fended off, she didn’t have a good feeling. Finished, she pulled up her panties, but more throaty sounds now punctuated by little mutterings of “Fuck, yeah” and “That’s it, baby” reached her.

Bernadette crossed the little room and halted at the threshold. Her power rose within her again, nearly knocking her back against the shower door with its intensity. A weapon. She needed a weapon, but there was nothing she could use save for a lamp or maybe throwing one of Frank’s huge biker boots, but those were at the foot of their bed. She knelt and withdrew the hair dryer from the sink cabinet. It wasn’t much of a weapon, but it might give her the edge of surprise. Quietly, she unwound the power cord and stepped over to peek around the edge of the doorframe.

The scene on the bed ripped the breath from her lungs. Icy fear bulleted through her veins. She jerked back, gripping the middle of the blower’s electrical cord in one hand and the hair dryer in the other as though they would ground her in this world. Heart thrashing painfully, her fear soon gave way to fury, which ignited throughout her body. That bitch was on her man. She stepped quietly past the threshold and paused.

The demon-woman had drawn the covers back and was deep-throating Frank’s cock. She lay on his legs, her voluptuous form pinning him to the mattress. A sparkling thong, the only garment on her body, parted her ass cheeks. Long, flaxen hair cascaded down her back and around her shoulders, masking her face, but the long, elegant horns sprouting from the sides of her head and curling backward toward her shoulder blades gleamed in the dim light of the hurricane lamp.

Bernadette panned her gaze along the bitch’s legs to discover cloven hooves instead of feet. Her fear mounted, but her love of Frank knocked it aside. She gripped the power cord in her right hand and swung the hair blower in an arc, bringing it down as hard as she could muster on the demon-woman’s head. The handle hit one horn and shattered, the plastic pieces flying into the air. The rest of the dryer connected with the center of the bitch’s skull with a sickening ka-crunch, but instead of being knocked out, the she-devil bolted upright onto her knees, her hands still firmly on either side of Frank’s pelvis.

It snarled, the sound something out of Hell.

Fear fired a surge of adrenaline into Bernadette’s veins that rendered her immobile.

The she-bitch sat up straighter, her big, round boobs shiny in the faint illumination, nipples large, pert. She hissed, revealing sharp incisors and two bottom fangs that matched.

Frank murmured something and opened his eyes. He jerked upright, his face registering shock. “What the fuck!”

The creature hissed at him, this time louder, more forcefully. He began kicking, trying to dislodge her from his legs and wrestle out of the blankets.

Bernadette yanked the dryer back to her and swung it again. This time it caught the creature alongside the jaw. The setting buttons flew off to hit the opposite dresser with faint plinks. The impact of the blower dislodged the she-demon so that she tumbled off the bed into the space between it and the window.

The creature jumped to her feet, fangs bared, hands out in preparation to slash flesh, the nails on each finger black, shiny and razorlike. Bernadette scooped up a handful of salt from the bedside dish and flung it across the bed. The salt skittered and pinged across anything hard and covered the bed in glimmering, white granules. The she-thing screamed in pain, blocking her face from a second handful that Bernadette threw across the room. Frank finally scrambled out of the covers and kicked the demon-woman squarely between the breasts. She stumbled backward, arms still over her face, blinded by the salt. Losing her footing, she slammed into the window, which shattered outward. The creature toppled over the sill and out into the dark open space. A hard, hollow thud followed.

Bernadette dropped the hair blower and leaped over the bed. She landed in Frank’s arms. The sensation of his warm, strong arms around her set the world right again. She sighed, kissed him hard, then asked with a tremor in her voice, “Are you okay?”

“I’m fine.”

He moved to the edge of the bed and rose with her still in his arms to look out the window. Nothing lay in the illumination cast by the back stoop light except for glass and fragments of window frame.

“Judging by the way you swung that dryer, I’ll have to start up a baseball team,” he joked.

“It was the only thing I could think of that could be a weapon ’cept for picking up a lamp or chair, but then I would’ve had to reveal myself to that thing before I had a chance to grab something.” She drew a shuddering breath. “I need to sit.”

He quickly turned her so her butt hit the mattress. “What’s wrong?” he asked.

“Nothing, just coming down off my power-and-adrenaline high,” she said, her voice growing shakier.

“Things are going from bad to worse,” he stated as he rubbed her upper arms.

“I know. It’s time to bring out the big magic guns. I’ll talk to Mary tomorrow.”

“Well, until then,” he said, pulling her to her feet, “I should find something to patch this window for the night, but you’re coming with me. I don’t want you here alone.”

She got a pair of sweatpants from the dresser, then followed him downstairs, already working out what the creature might be in her mind. With Mary’s help, they’d figure out something to protect themselves and the MC.

 

Chapter Thirteen

 

Phil stood in the doorway to the only bedroom. He still couldn’t believe Daffodil was here in his home, in his bed. She rolled over, flinging one long, shapely leg out of the covers. His cock stirred. Damn, she was a gorgeous woman.

She hadn’t wanted to talk last night, seeming so tired, as though something had literally drained all the strength out of her except for the tiny bit she was barely functioning on. Jess had told him she was worried about Daffodil, that Ezra had a thing for her and wouldn’t give her any peace.

“I’m ready to go,” Jess said behind him. “My cousin is here. She just texted me from the driveway.”

He turned and nodded with a smile. “You sure you’re going to be okay?”

“Yeah, my cousin is fly.” Jess donned a thin jacket, then shouldered her pack. She slipped past him into the bedroom doorway. “She lives in Weirton and now has her own house, so once I find some sort of legit job, I’ll help her with the bills.” She inclined her head toward the bed. “I’m gonna tell Daffi good-bye, then head out.”

“You’ve been a good friend to her, Jess. Stay in touch with her.”

“I plan on it.” The young woman flashed him a brilliant smile, then strode over to the bed to sit on the side closest to Daffodil.

Phil made his way to the kitchen to give them privacy.

A few minutes later, Jess emerged, dazzled him with another one of her toothy, white smiles, and yelled, “Thank you and take care of her!”

“Take care of you,” he called as the door shut. He hurried to a front window and peeked out to make sure she was safely in a vehicle. A Sportage turned around in the lane with Jess sitting on the passenger side. In the driver’s seat, an African American woman in her mid-20’s caught him watching. She waved. He held up one hand in farewell as the vehicle headed back out to the township road.

He returned to the kitchen, where the Mr. Coffee was chugging out the last drops of brew into the pot. His favorite mug sat in the dish drainer. Taking the cup, he filled it up, and the aroma of dark roast wafted over his face.

“Could I have a cup?”

He glanced over his shoulder, his heart leaping at the sight of Daffodil doe-eyed from sleep, her face with more color than it had had the night before. Dressed in pink-and-red pajama shorts and a matching top, she looked like she could have just stepped out of a lingerie catalog. He handed her his mug, then reached for another in a cabinet.

“Want some food?” he asked. Now she was here with him, his brain had slipped into neutral. He didn’t know what to say, had no idea what she might need while she was staying with him. All he knew was that he wanted her there and would protect her with his life.

He paused as he poured the second cup of coffee. His life? Yes, he would protect her at all costs. But why was this woman so damn important to him? He turned and faced her. She met his gaze, her eyes wide, sincere. She seemed content, at ease. Last night she’d been so uptight that she probably would’ve rocketed to the moon if he had startled her.

“I might eat something after I’ve had a couple cups of coffee,” she replied, jarring him back to reality.

“I haven’t stayed here for a while,” he said, “so I’ll have to buy some groceries, but I have plenty of coffee, some pancake mix and syrup.”

“That’s fine.”

He set about gathering a skillet, the mix, thankful it was a just-add-water brand, and a half-full bottle of syrup. Without looking at her, he tested the waters to see if she wanted to talk. “Is this Erza dude someone who is filling in for Hudson as MC president?”

“Yes,” she replied.

Behind him, she swallowed, then the thump of the mug on the island’s countertop followed.

“What’s his last name?

“Smith,” she answered.

“Ezra Smith.” He shook mix into a bowl. “Name doesn’t ring a bell.”

“It’s a bullshit name.”

At that, he stopped what he was doing and faced her. “Why do you say that?”

“Because he’s not human. He’s some sort of devil or demon.”

She said it so serious that it made the hair on Phil’s neck stand up. Her grave expression spoke volumes. Was Ezra somehow responsible for the deaths? He’d heard the old-timers speak of unholy things, but he’d always dismissed such stories and claims because he’d never actually witnessed anything supernatural outside of other lykoi. Maybe Daffodil was the key to solving the MC’s problem.

“And don’t tell me such things don’t exist,” she continued calmly. “I know about lycanthropes, so demons and other crazy things”—shrugging, she picked up her cup again and sipped—“are possible too. Hell, half or more of the River Rebels are werewolves.” Finally, she averted her gaze and stared into the mug. “Plus I’ve heard the guys talk about the Claiming and Maiming they attempted with the Werewolves of Rebellion. Are you a lycanthrope too, Phil?”

He gaped at her. Holy fuck!

 

* * *

 

Sunshine blazed down at an angle through the half-leafless trees. Bernadette followed the path down to the Little Muskingum River. At the bottom of the hill, she veered off to the right and walked the bottomland until she reached a jumble of boulders where the creek gathered in a deep pool before flowing around it to continue south. Although chilly, the air invigorated Bernadette. To her surprise, she found Scary Mary already sitting atop the flat rock.

“You beat me this time,” Bernadette called, waving to her.

“It won’t be much longer before we’ll have to move our weekly sessions inside,” Mary said.

“Yeah, it makes me sad.” After climbing the rocks, Bernadette settled herself across from her mentor. “I love it down here, but I don’t like the cold.”

“Worry is coming off you in big waves.” Tipping her head to one side, Mary gave Bernadette the once-over. “What’s wrong?”

She relayed what had happened the night before right down to telling Mary about how, fearful the demon-woman would enter their bedroom a second time, they’d slept in bedrolls on the living room floor next to two prospects.

“Frank’s in Rebellion now, trying to find an affordable window to replace the one that got smashed,” she finished.

Mary’s ebony gaze seemed to bore right into Bernadette, making her squirm, as usual. She met the woman’s eyes, refusing to look away. The tree limbs shook in a chilly gust that swept through the bottomland, stirring Bernadette’s hair and ruffling the edges of Mary’s heavy cloak and cowl. Bernadette shivered.

“What else, child? I know there’s something. You have the stink of bad magic clouding your aura.”

Her mentor’s words unnerved Bernadette. Instead of replying, she held out her arm, pulled her long-sleeved sweater up to her elbow, then flipped her hand, palm up, so Mary could see the fingerprint burn on the soft skin of her wrist.

“Damnation, child!” Mary leaned over and cupped Bernadette’s hand, tugging her closer. She peered down at the mark, then blew on it. The brand glowed faintly.

“How’d you do that?” Bernadette asked.

“You’ve been marked by some sort of devil. It’s reacting to my power, and your magic is most certainly why it marked you.” She brushed her thumb over the spot, and the mark flared brighter. “How did you get this?”

“A man at the courthouse, a very blond, very blue-eyed guy.” Bernadette told her about the times she’d seen him and how he’d touched her the day of the farmers market.

Mary shook her head, her locs whipping around her shoulders. “Not a man. A devil in the guise of a human.”

The unease that had been slithering around inside Bernadette transformed into a leviathan of fear. “My magic drew it?”

“Some supernatural creatures draw on power, some simply feed on the energy that each person or animal gives off, but you”—the woman reached into her skirt pocket and withdrew a silver cigarette holder and took a hand-rolled coffin nail from it—“are a blend of both magic and strong life energy, so you give off a beacon of power that it probably saw coming before you even encounter this creature.” From another pocket, Mary took out a plastic zip bag full of stick matches. She removed one and struck it on the stone where they sat. “It’s feeding from you, child.”

“I don’t want that!” She scrubbed at the mark, but it remained, mocking her with its presence. “This guy…thing…whatever he or it is…” Her fear kept growing, smothering her with its intensity. If she didn’t get a grip on it, her terror would defeat her. “This creature pops into my mind at unexpected moments.” She looked at Mary. “Even during sex.”

Realization spread over the witch’s face, and an “oh shit!” look appeared in her eyes.

“I don’t like your expression,” Bernadette stated. “You know something. What is it?”

“What you just now said…” Blowing out a lungful of clove-scented smoke, she closed her eyes as she grappled with some sort of thought, the lines around her eyes and mouth deepening.

“What?” Bernadette urged. “Tell me, Mary!”

“Based on what you’ve told me about what has happened at the MC, what happened to you and Frank last night, and this mark on your wrist”—she smoothed her fingers over Bernadette’s skin, her touch dry and warm, soothing—“and how you received it, I think I know what we’re dealing with—what the MC is facing.”

Bernadette gulped. If she didn’t know better, she’d swear her heart was actually in her throat beating its way up to her mouth. She swallowed again in an attempt to force her growing panic into submission. “Mary? What are with dealing with?”

“Sexual demons,” Mary replied softly, as if she feared something would hear her. “Devils that feed off sexual energy as well as magic and life energy. A male is an incubus and a female is a succubus. They come to a victim in dreams or when one is disoriented and defenseless and latch on to your psyche, inspiring erotic dreams and visions.” She drew hard on her clove cigarette, its end glowing bright red, then held the smoke for a couple seconds, her dark gaze riveted on Bernadette. “They drain everything from a person,” she wheezed, white vapor twirling out of her mouth. Finally, she released a big cloud, the aroma of the spice wafting over Bernadette an instant before the cold wind whisked it up into the naked tree branches over their heads. “And when I say everything, I mean all that a person is, which is why Tony and Ass Crack were found as dried-up husks.”

These things were real? How could something like these demons exist? When had she stepped into The Exorcist? Supernatural creatures were real, she reminded herself. After all, she was mated to a lycanthrope, and she was a witch with growing powers.

“You’re struggling with this, aren’t you?” Mary asked.

She nodded. “I’m not sure why.”

“It’s because werewolves and witches are physical people that you talk to, work with, laugh with…but demons are from a different plane of existence, whether it’s hell or an alternate, dark reality.” After crushing out the butt of the fag, Mary opened the case again and removed another coffin nail. “Such creatures shouldn’t be possible in our world, but they are, and what makes it even more difficult to process is that they must have a physical body to interact on our plane, yet they can mess with you through your mind.”

Stunned, Bernadette kept staring at Mary in shock, but another gale rushed through the bottomland, its Jack Frost kiss taking her breath away and bringing her back to the here and now. She blinked several times and forced herself to settle and think clearly. “How do we fight these things?”

“We have to figure out who the leader is,” Mary answered. “It’s usually a male, but he can look like any human, therefore it can change its form to whatever person suits him.”

“If that’s the case, the females have the same power?”

“Yes.”

“Then that means that the…” She frowned.

“Succubi,” Mary stated.

“The succubi attacking the MC are probably sweetbutts, so-called women who are without mates, right? That way they’re not confined to one person,” Bernadette surmised. “The succubi wouldn’t transform into someone who is a fixture at the club, would they?”

“Probably not.” Mary struck another match and lit her cigarette, puffing on it until another cloud of smoke spiraled into the air. “These creatures want to blend, to come and go without incident so that no one is the wiser.” She flicked ashes. “Maybe we can use your mark to draw the incubus in to vanquish him.”

“What’s this ‘we’ shit?”

Mary snorted laughter and nearly spat her cig on the rock between her knees. “I’ve never had to deal with these creatures before, so let me do some research. You, however, need to stay with someone at all times. Don’t be alone. No naps by yourself in the bedroom.”

“Frank is gonna flip.”

“Research these demons on the Internet,” Mary advised as she struggled to her feet. “There are reputable witchcraft websites loaded with helpful information.”

“How would you know?” Bernadette asked, looking up at her. “You don’t even have a land line in your cabin.”

“I do go into town once in a while,” her mentor stated with a grin, “and there are these buildings called libraries.”

Unable to help herself, Bernadette laughed. “All right. I’ll see what I can find.”

“And I’ll delve into my demonology books and my grimoire.” Making her way down off the rocks, Scary Mary tugged her cloak closer to her body. At the bottom by the water, she paused. “Bernadette, once you’ve armed yourself with information, see if there’s some sort of ward or protection you can pass on to the MC when you warn them of this danger. Make sure everyone has another person with them no matter what.”

Bernadette hopped off the rock to stand next to her. “I will. You be safe too.”

Laughter burst from Mary. “This mama jamma hasn’t seen any action in years, so I might have me some fun if one of those things visits me!”

Shaking her head and giggling, Bernadette waved to her friend and set off up the long trail to the MC. However, the closer she drew to the main house, the more her worry returned.

Would they be able to defeat these creatures?

With resolve, she emerged into the field and passed the pond, determined to find something online that would help them fight this evil.

Upon reaching the house, she looked up at Frank as he positioned the new glass in their bedroom window. She didn’t want to startle him, so she headed inside where the women were cleaning up breakfast, then hurried on through the house and up the stairs. The door to their room stood half-ajar. Luella’s voice drifted out to her.

“Frank, you have to talk to Bernadette about this.”

“I will.”

“You’ve been saying that for weeks now.”

Bernadette’s worry mounted. All her insecurities rushed back. What was so important that Luella was insisting he approach her about it? What if…? No, she couldn’t let herself think the worst. Frank loved her. They’d made love in the workshop loft until she was sore the following day. Surely Luella wasn’t two-timing Beastman.

Heart hammering painfully, nausea assaulting her, she waited, unsure whether to announce herself or walk away.

Frank growled, then grunted. A thump followed. “Hold this side steady, Luella, while I find a piece of wood to wedge in this spot.”

“I’m sure Bernadette will understand your side of this,” Luella continued.

Oh, no, no, no…what has he done—they done? She gripped the doorframe, still hidden by the door, and waited for the dizziness to pass.

“I will talk to Bernadette when I’m damn well good and ready,” Frank groused, “and not before.”

“Fine.” Luella’s tone spoke volumes about her temper. “I’ll leave you be.”

“Tell Beastman I could use his help if he has a few minutes,” Frank said.

Panicked, Bernadette started to duck down the hall to the bathroom, but instead, she inhaled deeply and shoved the door open as she walked into the room. If there was going to be a confrontation about their relationship—whatever state it was in—then she’d get it over with now.

The door swung open to reveal Luella holding a broom in one hand and a dust pan in the other. She did a double take, her brow wrinkling. “Bernadette? What’s wrong? You look positively sick.”

What was wrong with her? Why couldn’t she confront them about their possible affair?

Frank finished what he was doing and reached her in two big strides. He placed his hands on her shoulders. “What is it, sweetheart?” He pulled her to him and held her tightly. “You learned something frightening when you met with Scary Mary, didn’t you? Tell me.”

Her worries about Luella and Frank would have to be addressed later. What she feared and what she wanted meant nothing until everyone at the MC and its community were safe. For the time being, she let him hold her, rocking her gently from side to side as she reveled in his clean male scent and the warmth he radiated. She told him about her meeting with Mary.

“I thought sex demons were myths,” Luella stated where she stood riveted at the foot of the bed.

“Until now, so did I,” Bernadette said. “I have to do some research online, see what I can learn to use to protect us. Judging by that she-devil’s reaction to salt, it’s more of an irritation that momentarily distracts them instead of a protection.”

“And this leader is after you?” Frank’s voice rumbled in her ear where she had it pressed to his chest. “Why?”

“My power. My sexuality. My life energy,” she said.

“Ah, it’s getting a triple jolt from you,” Luella stated.

Bernadette moved back so she could look up at Frank. “Finish installing the new window. I’m going to start my research. Then, when I have some information we might use to protect ourselves, I’ll write out a list so you can use it when you call a meeting tonight.”

He smiled at her, prompting a thrill to wind through her. “Sounds like a good plan,” he said.

Stepping away from him, she slipped between him and Luella to get her laptop on the desk, then left the bedroom.

“I’ll see if I can find Beastman,” Luella said, her voice trailing Bernadette out to the landing. “He doesn’t work today, so he’s around here somewhere.”

“Thanks,” Frank said.

 

Chapter Fourteen

 

At the top of the stairs, Bernadette halted as Luella called out to her.

“Bernadette, a moment.”

“Yes?” She couldn’t look at her friend…if she was her friend.

“I know you heard me and Frank talking,” Luella began. “And it’s not what you think.”

With effort, Bernadette met Luella’s baby blues, but instead of seeing deceit, only compassion shone in them. “And what do I think, Luella?” Despite not wanting to sound bitchy, Bernadette failed miserably. “It’s not the first time I’ve heard the two of you whispering about something Frank should tell me but won’t.”

“We’re not fucking.”

Bernadette flinched.

“See?” Luella stated. “That is what you were thinking. I’d never screw around on Beastman. He’s my mate, my whole world. I’d give my life for him.”

“Then what is it? What’s bothering Frank?” A tear leaked from one of her eyes. She angrily blinked it away, but Luella used the pad of one thumb and wiped it free from her face. The sweet action sent remorse through Bernadette. She sensed she’d truly misjudged her friend.

“He loves you so much he’d actually take the moon down and give it to you if that’s what you wanted,” Luella said with conviction. “But it’s not my place to tell you what’s bothering him. One thing you must understand is that we’ve known each other since we were youngsters struggling through our lycan hormonal shifts. We’ve seen each other at our worst and our best. We’re even related by mate-laws—what humans call in-laws—and yes, we’ve pleasured each other but never through fucking because we knew we were friends, not lovers. I’m still that same friend to him, so he continues to confide in me.”

Luella cupped one side of Bernadette’s face and stared into her eyes so hard that Bernadette could’ve sworn she’d seen the woman’s she-wolf pass through her blue eyes.

“Just know that Frank will tell you in time, and when he does, it’s nothing bad, but it is a big decision, one you will have to make, not him.” She smiled. “Okay? Believe me?”

Shame visited Bernadette, heating her face and peppering the swell of her breasts with warmth too. “I’m sorry for jumping to conclusions.”

“It’s only natural, honey.” With a gesture, Luella indicated Bernadette should follow her down the staircase. “You’re a human among the lykoi. Our cultures, traditions, rules, laws and so much more are completely different from the human world. You’re learning as you go along, and you will continue to learn.” At the bottom of the stairs, she stopped with Bernadette and looked at her again. “It will get easier, but there’s two things you must start doing.”

“Such as?” She waited eagerly, hoping for something that would smooth her guilt and help her mate.

“Stop jumping to conclusions, like I just told you, and start asking questions. Don’t be afraid to fire questions at me, Phil, Puppy—most of all Frank. It’s the only way you’ll learn and the only way to avoid misunderstandings that could potentially hurt people.”

Nodding vigorously, Bernadette replied, “You’re right, Luella. And I’m very sorry for thinking the worst.”

“All water under the bridge now.” Leaning over, Luella kissed her on the forehead. “You’re my friend, Bernadette. In truth, I adore you.”

Shocked, Bernadette could find no words.

“I had a little sister once upon a time,” Luella answered her unspoken question. “She was hunted by a Vanquisher and shot with a silver bullet through the heart.”

Bernadette frowned, canting her head. “Vanquisher?”

“A person who hunts down and kills anyone of supernatural origin as well as cryptids—creatures thought to exist but without true evidence that they actually do. My sister never had a chance.” Her gaze grew distant, her eyes shimmering wetly for an instant, then, just as quickly as it was there, it vanished. “You remind me a lot of her, and I don’t give compliments lightly.” She offered Bernadette a watery smile. “You have the same keen mind as she had, the same quick smile, and a fiery personality similar to my sister’s.”

Touched, Bernadette asked, “What was her name?”

“Charlotte—Charlotte Dawn. She was 16 when she died, ten years younger than me.” She fluttered her eyelashes a few times as she returned to reality and finally banished the deepening glassiness that kept clouding her eyes. “So be smart and talk to us when something bothers you, okay?”

“I will.” On impulse, Bernadette hugged her friend, who hugged her back just as tightly. “I promise, Luella.”

“Good.” She took her by the hand. “Now, go sit yourself in the dining room. I’ll turn the Wi-Fi on, then make a fresh pot of coffee for you. I’ll make sure no one bothers you.”

A weight lifted from Bernadette’s shoulders. Now, if only she could find a way to protect Frank, her mother, Luella and everyone here at the MC and its community below whom she’d come to care for deeply.

 

* * *

 

Daffi wiped the last of the syrup on her plate with her final bite of fluffy pancake, then forked it into her mouth. Phil hadn’t answered her question about him being a werewolf, having spilled batter down the front of his shirt. He’d left her to go change, but she figured his silence was answer enough. It didn’t bother her that he was a shape-shifter. She’d seen many of the River Rebels change, especially when there was a full moon and they all met behind the MC and stripped before shifting into huge, hairy beast men to lope into the woods for a night of hunting. Most of the sheep knew nothing about who or what they were truly living with at the club, but Daffi had seen worse. And his name was Ezra.

She shivered and rose to wash her plate and fork in the sink. Done, she poured herself another cup of piping-hot coffee, then seated herself at the kitchen isle again. Phil emerged from the bedroom. Shirtless, he held a pocket T-shirt in one hand and his cut in the other. Mouth falling open, Daffi could only stare at the hard lines of his pecs and abs. The man was lean in all the right places, his muscles hard, sinewy, defined. Saliva filled her mouth. She swallowed. As he approached, the pink scar of a puncture wound caught her attention. Before she could stop herself, she blurted, “Were you shot?”

He halted, as if he’d forgotten she was there, his startled gaze zipping to her face. “What? Oh, yeah. Bernadette shot me.”

“What?” Holy shit, what had Phil done to make Bernadette shoot him? Maybe she should reevaluate her earlier assumptions about the redhead.

He shrugged. “It was accidental. Happened during the Claiming and Maiming.”

Daffi didn’t pursue the fact that he was a werewolf. It seemed to make him uneasy, as if he wasn’t sure he could trust her. After all, he knew very little about her, so she understood how he might be feeling.

He slipped his T-shirt on, followed by his cut, the patch boasting what he was, but no one who saw it would be the wiser. Clever.

She’d always heard the Werewolves of Rebellion were weak. They never manufactured or sold drugs and they didn’t deal in trafficking of any sort. She’d seen how people in Rebellion greeted the Werewolves of Rebellion with a smile and respect, whereas the River Rebels and even the Wraithkillers were given a wide berth in town or treated with disdain—something she’d experienced many times as a sheep.

As Phil pulled on his work boots, she admired how his jeans molded to his ass. No baggy pants or drooping for him. Oh, no. Her fingers itched to touch him, which surprised her since sex, for her, had become a duty and a bore over the years.

Once he had his boots on, he straightened and walked over to the counter to pour himself another cup of coffee.

Suddenly realizing he was prepared to go somewhere, she asked, “Are you leaving me here alone?”

“No.” He slowly rotated to face her, then leaned his hips against the counter edge, the power screen’s blue glow on the Mr. Coffee behind him bright next to his black T-shirt. “But I do have to work second shift, so unless you want to stay here alone, I’ll have to take you to the club so you’ll have protection.”

The mug in her hand wobbled as she lifted it to her mouth. She almost dropped the cup. “Me? Go to the Werewolves of Rebellion MC?” She gaped at him, still holding her coffee in midair. “Is there something wrong with you?”

At that, a big guffaw burst from him.

“What’s so funny?” She stared at him suspiciously.

“The Werewolves of Rebellion are not a one-percenter MC, Daffodil. We’re different. We’re not normal in the least, so I guess something is wrong with me, but not in bad way.”

He laughed again, more softly this time. The sound crept into her ears and traveled down into her body to caress her insides. She shivered and set her cup down.

“I don’t trust this Ezra Smith. Even when Hudson gets out of prison, I’ll bet money Smith doesn’t let him take over.” He sipped his coffee, his expression thoughtful. “And if Smith’s involved in human trafficking like you say, then he’s even more dangerous.”

“I helped three people escape last night,” she blurted. “Well, me and Jess did. Two women and a young boy. I dropped them off at the sheriff’s department, then drove away.” Nervousness assailed her. What if he thought she was terrible for simply driving off as she had? “I felt like such a coward for just driving away like that, but I didn’t want Ezra to know we were the ones who helped them.”

“Don’t you think he’ll figure it out when he realizes your disappearance coincides with theirs?” He stood waiting, as if he expected her to reply with someone profound.

“Shit.” She slumped and covered her face with her hands, bracing her elbows on the island’s top.

“What you and Jess did took major brass balls.” His boots clumped on the hardwood floor, then he placed a hand on either of her arms, cupping the sides of her elbows, his palms warm, rough. “But if you thought Ezra would be pissed at you for leaving,” he added, his breath warm on her hands where he leaned close, “he’ll be a hundred times more pissed at the knowledge that you cost him a shipment which equals big money.”

“Fuck, fuck, fuck,” she whispered.

“Hey,” he said forcefully, snapping her attention back up to him. “I’m not going to let anyone hurt you, understand?”

She nodded slowly.

“Good. Now go get dressed,” he told her. “Bring your backpack in case we stay at the MC tonight.”

“Everyone there will hate me,” she said, placing her hands over her face.

“The women will accept you without prejudice,” he replied, his tone soothing. “Trust me. Our…clans…don’t function in the way of humans.” He pulled her hands aside. “And you look so weak that it’ll make me feel better if someone is keeping an eye on you. Are you ill, honey?”

She shook her head. “It’s what Ezra does to me.”

He frowned, his gaze ominous.

“He’s not human,” she said. “I meant it when I told you that he’s a demon. He uses me, makes me…you know. When I don’t want him or when I think there’s no way I can come, somehow, he makes me anyway. It’s scary. And he doesn’t let up. He fucked me over and over for hours this last time, then, when he knew I was hanging on by a thread, he finally left me alone yesterday morning.” To her surprise, hot tears began dripping from her chin, her eyes stinging with more that kept slipping free. “I slept like the dead until evening. When I woke, I realized Ezra would return soon, so that’s when I managed enough strength to gather my things and leave with Jess. I hadn’t planned to set those slaves free, but we passed through the warehouse and I just couldn’t leave them behind in those cages. Who knows what horrible life would lie ahead of them.”

“You had more strength than you realized, baby,” he said and kissed her. “You had the strength of Hercules to do what you did, and I’m proud of you.”

Gripping her elbows tighter, he kissed her again, more forcefully, and, to her delight, much longer. He ravaged her mouth. Tickling the seam of her lips with his tongue, he asked for admittance, and she allowed him access. The way he kissed stole her breath, but she reveled in the lack of air, pushing toward him, needed more. Their tongues danced together for a few seconds, then Phil broke the kiss, leaving her senses spinning pleasantly, her blood thundering in her ears. In wonderment, she smiled at him. No one in all her years of being a sweetbutt had made her senses spiral out of control like that.

“Go on,” he said a little breathlessly. “Get dressed, grab your stuff and we’ll leave in about 15 minutes.”

She slid off the stool and crossed the cabin on unsteady legs. For the first time ever, hope filled her.

In the bedroom, she quickly made the bed, then gathered her meager belongings to stuff them down into the open top of her pack. She gathered the clothes she’d worn the night before and donned them again. Once she’d put her boots on and picked up her jacket, she hooked one hand in the knapsack’s strap and headed out to meet Phil, who stood waiting at the door, a light coat with the Werewolves of Rebellion’s patch on the back of it.

“I’d love to put you on the back of my Harley,” he said wistfully, “but the weather is just too cold.” He opened the door and shoved the screen back so she could step out. “I guess I’ll have to garage the ol’ girl, but waiting for warm weather to ride her again always seems like forever.”

The way he said “to ride her again” carried an edge of seduction that urged a shiver through Daffi. It settled in her pussy, where it throbbed, surprising her with its power. Phil took her pack in one hand and walked with her down the wooden steps and across the flagstones leading to the driveway where his pickup sat. He opened the passenger door, then, once she was safely in, he closed it and got in on the other side after he stowed her backpack in the truck bed.

He drove along the creek road in silence. Now and then he’d glance over at her, but he didn’t ask any questions or try to pump her for information about the River Rebels as Daffi had expected. It was enough that she was with Phil, and her nerves about facing his MC began to abate slightly. If he was adamant she’d be safe there and that the women would accept her without question, then she believed him.

At the covered bridge, Phil turned right and headed up a steep hill, then at the top of it, he made a left and drove along a ridge that provided a stunning view across the plateaus.

Daffi had begun to relax and enjoy the ride when Phil announced, “This is it. This is the gate to our MC and its community.” He turned into the lane and stopped. Putting the truck in neutral, he held his foot on the brake. “I trust you, Daffodil. I don’t know why, but I do. Regardless, I’m going out on a limb here for you.”

“I know.” She met his dark, warm gaze and comfort oozed into her being. “I won’t betray you or your MC. I know the Werewolves of Rebellion aren’t an outlaw gang, but I’m sure there are still penalties for betrayal, just not in the way outlaws do it. If I would screw up—which I won’t, I promise—I will accept whatever punishment Frank Nightshade would decide to give me.” She drew a big, shaky breath.

“What’s wrong?” Phil reached over and clasped her hand resting on the bench seat.

“It’s just that this is truly a new beginning for me,” she replied, cursing the tremor in her voice. “I’ve never had a new start before.”

“Fuck, honey. What sort of life have you had?”

She offered him a watery look. “A rough one.”

He squeezed her hand, then released it to put the truck in gear. “Well, then let’s get this new beginning started so you can begin a good life.” He glanced over at her. “Hopefully with me in it.”

She glanced out the passenger window and blinked tears away. “That sounds awesome.”

The ride through the MC’s farmland had her in awe. The property was beautiful, right down to the nearly naked orchard trees. She found the community quaint, but the big Victorian house on the hilltop captured her imagination. What stories that house must have of the people who had lived there since its construction.

Once they reached the main house, the big Nightshade’s Wolves sign on the side of a workshop caught her attention. She’d heard Frank and some of his members were well known for manufacturing custom-made motorcycles. Some of the River Rebels coveted such a machine, but they knew the real price of buying from a rival gang.

Phil stopped and shut off the truck. He hopped out and walked around to her side, where he helped her exit, then reached into the pickup bed to snag her pack.

A very tall, very dark-eyed, dark-haired man emerged from a screened-in porch and stood glowering at Phil. Daffodil had seen Frank a couple times, but the last was when he’d been at the Wraithkillers to swap guns for Luella’s return and had left with Bernadette in tow too. He commanded respect. Daffodil looked at her feet, keeping her head bowed, and waited.

“I’m assuming you have a valid reason for bringing one of the River Rebels sweetbutts here?” Frank stated, his deep voice rumbling across the concrete carport.

“Without a doubt,” Phil replied firmly. He grasped Daffi’s elbow. “It’s okay, Daffodil, really.”

“If Phil is vouching for you,” Frank’s said, “then that’s good enough for me. Welcome, Daffi.”

She jerked her head up at the use of her name. She hadn’t suspected he might know who she was. Why would he? She was nobody…unless Bernadette had been telling him about her, but why would the redhead do that?

A hulking shadow crossed the screens from the inside, followed by the door swinging open and a giant of a man who stepped out. Bald, but with a big, blond beard, he almost dwarfed Frank. “What’s going on out here?”

“Looks like Phil has brought home a stray,” Frank answered. He motioned to them. “Come on, Phil. Bring her in and tell us what’s going on.”

Despite Phil’s promise that she’d be accepted, an earthquake began in Daffi’s heart and shook her all the way to the soles of her feet. She leaned heavily against Phil.

“It’s okay, babe,” he soothed. “I promise.”

Daffi trusted him. She didn’t know why other than an innate sense told her that she could put her life in his hands. She looked up at him, and he smiled reassuringly.

“Okay,” she said. “Let’s do this.”

 

Chapter Fifteen

 

As they filed inside, the sound of crunching gravel drew everyone’s attention. Daffi turned to look, but froze in fear as the county police cruiser topped the hill to pull up onto the carport. Dizziness assailed her. Was she in trouble because she hadn’t gone into the sheriff’s office with the abductees?

“Judging by the look on her face”—Frank jerked his head in Daffi’s direction—“I’m guessing Craig is here because she’s mixed up in something?”

“No,” Phil said. “It’s not Daffi. It’s the information that she has.”

“Information about—?” Realization widened Frank’s eyes. “The human trafficking you mentioned.”

“Yes,” Daffi answered. “I helped a few people escape last night. Am I in trouble because I left them without going in to the county sheriff’s office without explaining?”

Frank studied her for a long moment. Several expressions flowed through his midnight eyes, his mouth in a flat line and bracketed by soft lines. Daffi waited, fully expecting Frank would tell her to get lost, that he was turning her over to the deputies who were approaching, but he nodded and a genuine smile tweaked the corners of his lips.

“Fair enough,” he said, then waved to the two officers getting out of the car. “Deputy Williamscot. What brings you out here so early?”

“Morning, Frank. This is Deputy Sanders, who is new to the force. Could we go inside and talk?”

Frank held the door open, and Phil ushered Daffi inside. He indicated that she should sit on the sofa, then he sat on its arm next to her.

Once everyone was gathered, Deputy Williamscot said, “Three young people wandered into the office late last night in nothing but underwear. They told me that you”—he nodded to Daffi—“and an African American woman helped them escape from cages.”

She couldn’t find her voice. It seemed to have actually vacated her body.

The deputy withdrew a pad and a pen and held them ready to write. “What’s your name, miss?”

It took her a couple attempts, but she finally managed, “Daffodil Anastasia Moscosky.”

“Is Daffodil you’re real name?” he asked.

“Yes.” She gulped. “How…how did you know I would be here?”

“Your friend, Jess, was worried about you. She stopped on her way out of town to tell me all she knew about Ezra Smith and his activities. She was worried Ezra would find and hurt you. She wants to end his dealings in selling people into the sex trade.”

The other deputy remained by the door, grim-faced.

“All right,” Officer Williamscot said as he wrote, “tell me everything you know about the River Rebel’s human-trafficking activities.”

“What’s going on?” a woman said in the doorway.

Daffi looked up as she wiggled out of her jacket. The woman stared back at her in surprise, and Daffi recognized her as the tall blonde Frank had swapped for the crate of guns.

“Luella, would you put on a pot of fresh coffee and make some snacks, please?” Frank asked. “We’re going to be here for a while.”

“Who’s here?” Bernadette peered under Luella’s arm, where she leaned it on the doorframe. “Oh, hello, Deputy,” she said to Officer Williamscot.

“Bernadette,” the deputy replied. “Nice to see you.”

Bernadette met Daffi’s gaze and gaped at her. “Daffi? What are you doing here?”

“Come back into the kitchen with me, honey.” Luella turned and nudged Bernadette away from the door. “Coffee and snacks coming up,” she called over her shoulder.

“So, Daffodil,” Deputy Williamscot said, “start from the beginning and don’t leave out any details, no matter how small you might think they are. Let’s put Ezra and his partners behind bars.”

 

* * *

 

With Phil at his day job, Daffi spent the day up in his bedroom. Thankfully, he had a television and satellite hookup, so she found a couple movies to keep her occupied. Luella brought her lunch, consisting of a bowl of what was obviously homemade vegetable soup, a grilled-cheese sandwich and a cup of coffee with a couple packets of sugar and a small container of creamer, should Daffi want them. She said little to Daffi, only asking if she’d like to come downstairs and hang with the women, but Daffi declined.

“I don’t think I’m ready for that,” she said. “I feel so…”

“You feel like you’re the big elephant in the room?” Luella had asked with a sympathetic smile.

“Yeah.”

“Okay, I get it. Baby steps.”

Relieved, Daffi settled in the glider chair to eat and finish watching an episode of Mike and Molly. Luella left quietly.

But, as Daffi ate, her thoughts kept going back to Deputy Williamscot and his barrage of questions. He’d assured her she hadn’t committed a crime by dropping the victims off at the station, but she might have to come in later to identify Ezra once they picked him up for questioning. How she dreaded doing that. In fact, it terrified her. Ezra would know she was the one there behind the one-way glass, but she couldn’t tell the deputy anything about what Ezra truly was. Hell, she didn’t know what Ezra was, only that he was demonic in nature.

She shivered and finished her soup, the broth rich and thick. She hadn’t ever had anything so good. A memory rose unbidden. Her mother had tried to make a go of it with just the two of them in a shitty, cockroach-infested apartment. For a month, they’d lived on dented and discounted cans of soup and day-old bread her mom had purchased from a corner grocery. But, after that month passed, the money her mother had stolen from a biker was gone and they were faced with living on the street or returning to the outlaw gang they’d left. She wished she could go back in time and bring her mother here, save her from the horrible death that had claimed her. Tears stung Daffi’s eyes.

She pushed the memories aside and focused on her sandwich.

A knock on the door about an hour later startled her. Bernadette poked her head through the doorway. “You doing okay in here?”

“Yeah, I’m good.”

“You know, no one here is going to give you any grief. There are a few members who have come from other MCs.” Bernadette’s auburn hair glowed with golden highlights in the weak afternoon sun streaming through the window. She was stunning.

“I know I apologized before, but I really am sorry about the fight,” Daffi said.

“Don’t worry about it. I’m sorry for insulting you that day.” A sheepish expression crossed her pretty face. “Sometimes my mouth shoots off before I can stop it.”

Daffi snorted, half amused. “It wasn’t what you said about my tat and me being a walking billboard for a vacation that pissed me off.”

“No?” Bernadette crossed the room and sat on one corner of the bed. She held something in white tissue paper.

Daffi shook her head. “No, it was the fact it reminded me who forced me to get the tat and why.” She ate the last bite of grilled cheese, then set her bowl on the little plate with the spoon and placed the dishes on the end table nearby. “I was passed to the Wraithkillers by another gang. The second-in-command briefly took me as his ol’ lady, then later tossed me aside. He said he would take me to the Bahamas, that we could have a nice weeklong vacation there, get away from the club life. Like an idiot, I believed him. It was just a bullshit story to dazzle me. When he didn’t follow through with the promise, I was hurt. We got into a fight. So he decided he’d have the club’s tat artist ink my back as a way of giving me the Bahamas forever and also showing me who was boss.” She glanced over at Bernadette, who wore a flabbergasted look. “Don’t feel sorry for me,” Daffi added quickly. “It could’ve been much, much worse.” She shrugged. “But now I’m here, so I’m hoping to start over.”

“I’m glad you have a healthy outlook on everything,” Bernadette said. She held out the tissue-papered item. “Here. I thought you might want this back now that you’re here with us.” Pulling the wrapping away, she revealed the colorful shawl.

“Oh…” Delight burst into an inferno of happiness in Daffi’s chest. “Thank you.”

“You’re welcome,” Bernadette replied, her grin infectious. “And now it’s perfect weather to wear it.” She rose and walked to the door. Turning, she said, “When you’re ready, we’ll all be there for you. None of us judge. None of us will say anything bad against you. If there’s one thing I’ve learned in my short time here with the Werewolves of Rebellion, it’s that everyone here understands what it’s like to be different. We all know that desire to belong too. Don’t hide up here too long.” She opened the door.

“Bernadette?” Heart pounding frantically, Daffi hoped she spoke her next words without stammering all over herself.

“Hmm?”

“Thanks for…your friendship.” Once Daffi said the words, a sense of finally fitting in somewhere settled over her. The feeling buoyed her, and she smiled, her heart flailing.

“Although we started out rocky,” Bernadette said, “were are friends now, for which I’m glad.” With that, she stepped into the hall and pulled the door closed.

Bernadette was glad to call her a friend. Overcome with emotion, Daffi burst into tears. All the years of being used, physically abused, and mentally, emotionally and spiritually drained crumbled like warming ice bergs to crash, then dissolve forever. For the first time since she was eight years old, she allowed herself to have hope—real hope—and she actually believed she might have a home here with these people, friendships that would be strong, plus, if she were really lucky, a relationship with Phil, a man whose soul whispered to hers. She cried long and hard, cried until her soul was cleansed and exhaustion took over. Finally, she rose and riffled through the top drawer of Phil’s dresser, where she found some clean, folded hankies. Hiccupping and trying to calm herself, she wiped her eyes and blew her nose a couple times. Daffi returned to the chair and got comfortable again. Through watery eyes, she stared down at the glittering pond where yellow and orange leaves floated on its surface. The soft sounds of the television commercials in the background shifted to the theme music of an X-Files rerun. Peace enveloped Daffi, and, finally, sleep claimed her.

 

* * *

 

Anxious to finally see Daffodil after a long day of hauling coal, Phil parked his pickup out of the way next to the workshop, then jogged to the house. He found the big storm door shut—another reminder that winter was just around the corner—and shivered as a chilly evening wind caressed his ears before he got the door open and entered the warm sunporch where Luella and Puppy were sliding the storm windows down.

“Cold weather’s coming,” Puppy said to him.

“Yeah, it sucks,” Phil conceded. “Can’t ride my bike much now, and during the afternoons that still grow warm, I end up having to peel off layers of clothes at lunchtime or I suffocate.”

Luella giggled softly. “You sound just like Beastman.”

“Your woman is in your bedroom,” Puppy stated as she sprayed glass cleaner on a pane Luella had just lowered. “Bernadette talked to her for a little while today, but your girl won’t come downstairs.”

“Can’t say I blame her,” Luella chimed in. “After what she’s gone through with outlaw gangs, I can only imagine her fear.” She glanced over her shoulder at Phil. “I took her some lunch up, though, and some coffee.”

“Thanks, Luella,” Phil said, warmth flooding him. “You’re a good she-wolf who takes care of the clan better than some mamas do their kids.”

“Hey, I love everyone here,” she replied and lowered another storm glass. “If we don’t support one another, what do we have? Nothing, that’s what.”

He nodded and climbed the two steps up into the kitchen, where he found Bernadette at the counter opening canned biscuits and placing them on baking sheets.

“Hey,” she said.

“Hey, yourself.”

“She’s been waiting for you to get home,” Bernadette told him. “She’s fragile, Phil. Be there for her.”

“Trust me,” he replied with conviction, “if she’ll let me, I’ll always be there for her.”

The dazzling smile Bernadette offered him had him grinning back.

“Supper’s in about an hour!” Luella shouted as he headed out of the kitchen.

Phil took the staircase two steps at a time, desperate to reach his bedroom and lay eyes on Daffodil. Upon reaching the door, he threw it open. She sat in his glider chair. Instantly, she jumped to her feet and launched herself at him. Phil caught her in his arms, swaying gently to and fro for a long time with her clasped tightly to him.

Finally, he asked, “Do you want to stay here tonight or go back to my cabin?”

“Your cabin,” she mumbled against his jacket. “I want to be with you, just talk and get to know each other without interruption.”

“Sounds good.” Pride swelled in his chest that she wanted to be with him so much. He hugged her tighter, and she hugged him back. “Let me get cleaned up and we’ll go down for supper, then afterward, we’ll drive over to my place.”

“Okay.” Reluctantly, she pulled away and returned to the chair.

He shut the door, then found clean shirts in the dresser. Tossing a smile her way, he left the room and headed to the bathroom, where he quickly washed up, changed his undershirt and T for clean ones, and dumped the dirty laundry into the hamper. Finished, he collected Daffodil from his bedroom and led her downstairs.

The stricken expression on her face tugged at Phil’s conscience. He hated to subject her to so many strange people at once, but it was the only way to introduce her to everyone. Frank pulled out a chair for Daffodil next to where Phil always sat in the dining room. Bernadette, Luella and Beastman sat across from them in their usual places. The supper progressed quietly—probably because Luella had warned everyone upon penalty of death to behave themselves—and Luella and Bernadette kept Daffodil in conversation about safe topics from fashion to her work at the courthouse. Phil hoped the aroma of apples and cinnamon permeating the house meant Luella had baked either her apple pie or apple crisp for dessert.

“Do you like working in the auditor’s office?” Bernadette asked Daffodil.

“It’s an okay job.” After stabbing a piece of steamed broccoli, Daffodil added, “I’d prefer something more interesting, though. Data entry is boring, especially the basic version I do there.” She shrugged and stabbed another floret. “Besides, Ezra expects me to give him information on the elderly who have mineral rights monies coming to them. He then sends someone to intimidate them and force them to pay the River Rebels for so-called protection from rival gangs.”

One of the toddlers at the other end of the table burst into tears. His mother rose and went into the kitchen with him. Her low, soothing words to him seemed to calm the room too.

“There aren’t any rival MCs around here,” Frank stated, “except for maybe the Wraithkillers, but their thing is making and selling meth or trafficking guns, not extortion.”

Daffodil sipped from her glass of cola. “Exactly. But most of the elderly don’t know there aren’t any rival gangs. They see your MC members and the Wraithkillers and don’t know any different.”

“Fuck,” Frank whispered.

She jerked and looked at him.

“No, it’s okay,” Frank told her. “I just didn’t realize this was going on too.”

“Might as well tell your deputy friend about it,” she replied, her gaze serious. “If Ezra is going down, the more information the law has about him, the sounder their case will be.”

“Are you willing to testify should they nab him?” Phil asked, concerned. “You’re biting off a lot if you do.”

“I’ve already reached Fuck-it Mountain. Ezra will come after me for helping those people escape the other night, so what difference does it make whether I blow the whistle on him for extortion too?”

The entire dining room fell silent.

Daffodil glanced around. “I just don’t want to bring trouble to your MC or its community.”

“We’ve dealt with a lot worse,” Beastman stated without looking up from his plate. “Kicked major RR ass during their attempted Claiming and Maiming.”

“He’s right,” Luella said. “We always overcome.” She tapped the napkin next to Daffodil’s plate to get her attention. “We support one another here. You’ve found a good home, if you want it.”

“I do.” She paused as she forked the last of the mashed potatoes on her plate into her mouth. Once she’d swallowed, she said, “I really do, but I still think I should hang out at Phil’s cabin until it’s safe to come back here. I don’t want anyone to get hurt because of me. Ezra and the newer prospects aren’t typical outlaw bikers. They’re…”

Phil wanted to smooth the worry lines away from her eyes and from around her mouth, give her comfort so she wasn’t so haunted by what she’d seen. She swept her pale green gaze around the end of the table in a way that said she was taking in their faces to keep them safe with her, as though she’d never see them again. He shivered.

“They’re what?” Beastman prompted.

“Evil.” She reached for her glass again. “Pure evil. And I don’t mean that they just do bad things. Ezra and his men aren’t human.”

At that, clinks and clangs erupted in the dining room as everyone dropped or put down their eating utensils.

She glanced around again, then hung her head, focusing on the last of her chicken and noodles.

“She knows what many of the River Rebels are,” Phil explained. “What many of us are.”

“So when you say evil,” Frank began, “what exactly do you mean?”

“Demons or devils or…” She shrugged, then wiped her mouth with her napkin. “I’m not sure what you’d label Ezra as, but he’s quite powerful and in more ways than one.”

“We haven’t had church in a while,” Frank said, looking at Beastman, then Phil, “but maybe we should notify all our members and hold church tonight about this Ezra dude, alert everyone that they should keep an eye on Daffodil and so that we all have Phil’s back since he’s…” He set his fork down and sat back in his chair. “Are you taking Daffodil as your ol’ lady?”

Phil wanted to—oh, how he wanted to—but he wasn’t going to insist Daffodil accept him as her old man. He turned to her, hoping he didn’t appear too eager, but she smiled back at him with obvious hope in her eyes.

“I’d like to,” he began cautiously. He didn’t want to go to fast and scare her away. “But we need to get to know each other for a while before we’re both sure. Right, Daffodil?”

“Yes,” she said, then a giggle popped out of her. Pink suffused her cheeks and she half hid her face behind the napkin.

Everyone around them chuckled and laughed at her reaction.

“If you prove that you’re here to back us,” Frank said, “we’ll protect you no matter what.”

Tears shimmered in her eyes. Phil draped one arm around her shoulders and drew her against his side.

“Everyone,” she choked out, “thank you. Thank you so much.”

“Aw, honey, I’m a good judge of character,” Luella said as she stood and picked up her dirty dishes. “You’ve had a rough life, and I can tell just by reading your eyes that you want a new start and a good, solid home, so you’re aces in my book.”

Tears drizzled down Daffodil’s cheeks. Helpless, Phil took a clean napkin from a nearby holder and dabbed at her face and wiped her chin. “It’s okay, baby. You’re with us now. You’re safe and we’ll all love you.”

The tears turned into a flood, and sobs erupted from Daffodil.

Panicked, he tightened his grip on her. “Fuck, babe, I didn’t mean—”

“Phillip,” Luella admonished him sternly.

He snapped his gaze up to meet Luella’s. The MCs she-wolf only used his full name when she wanted to his attention for something important.

“Her soul is healing,” Luella told him with a gentler tone, “so let her heal it.”

He nodded and hugged Daffodil as she gradually quieted against his side. If he couldn’t make the assholes in Daffodil’s past pay for what they’d done to hurt her, then he’d take it out on Ezra and then some.

 

Chapter Sixteen

 

Later, after Frank called the men together and held church, Bernadette stood in the corner of the screened-in porch until the taillights of Phil’s pickup made the bend in the community and vanished. She wished Phil had stayed at the MC with Daffi, but she understood their need to be alone, to get to know each other.

Something was afoot tonight. Something moving in the shadows, watching from…somewhere. Bernadette detected it in the air, smelled it in the wind that slipped in through the doors when someone came and went.

Power brewed on the wind. A strong magic. A magic fueled by fury.

She shivered and rubbed her hands up and down her upper arms, but the action did nothing to warm her or rid her of her anxiety.

“Babe?” Frank said behind her. “What’s wrong?”

“Something isn’t right.” Her worry accumulated in her mind like a thunderhead. “I’m concerned about Phil and Daffi alone at his cabin.”

“You warned them about what you’re sensing tonight, didn’t you?” Frank rumbled and placed his warm hands on the rounded sections of her shoulders.

“I did, but I’m not sure if Phil took me seriously.”

“I bet he did, but he didn’t want to frighten Daffodil any more than she already is.”

His reasoning made sense, and she nodded. “Yeah, you’re probably right. I hadn’t thought of that.”

“It’s late, baby.” He squeezed her shoulders, sending her comfort, his palms hot through her light sweater. “Let’s go to bed.” He nuzzled her neck, nibbled the spot behind her right ear, flicked the backside of her earlobe. “I’ve missed you, and I sure as hell don’t want another dream like I had last night only to wake up with some crazy hell chick giving me a blowjob, so why don’t you come to bed with me and make me forget about all that?”

She pressed her ass back and nestled it against his crotch. Frank rewarded her with a needy groan.

“Do that again and I might bend you over that recliner,” he warned.

She pushed her ass back a second time, then wiggled it.

“Woman, you’re playing with fire.”

“I’d rather play with your cock,” she countered.

“Then take your ass in the direction of our bedroom.” He spun her around and swatted her butt to get her moving.

Laughing, she threaded their fingers together and walked with him through the house and upstairs.

In their bedroom, Bernadette crossed to the bed as she tugged her sweater up and over her head and Frank kicked the door shut behind him. She tossed her top to the floor, then turned the bed down. Before she could straighten and unfasten her jeans, Frank hooked his arms around her and nipped her nape. He then unfastened her pants and shoved them down to her knees. He bent her over, followed by the sound of him unbuckling his belt and the whoosh of his zipper.

“What are you—?”

He penetrated her, and she cried out at suddenly being full of his cock as well as the rough, unexpected entry. Pleasure soared through her core. She lowered herself onto her forearms on the bed, pushing her ass up and out at him.

“Fuck, woman.” Another groan escaped Frank. He placed a hand on either of her hips, his fingers biting into her flesh, exciting her further. “You have the most gorgeous ass I’ve ever seen.”

“Shut up and fuck me, Frank,” she ordered and pushed back on his cock.

A deep growl burst from him and he began thrusting, the power of each movement jolting her arms until they gave out on her. Bernadette braced herself on one shoulder, but Frank hauled her up again so she could lean on her hands. Each time he drove home, his cockhead brushed her cervix and her pleasure ratcheted higher and higher. She couldn’t get him deep enough, hard enough. She wanted more of him, her cries growing steadily louder.

He continued to pound into her. “Baby…you feel so… fucking good…”

The pat-pat of his crotch slapping her pussy quickened. The coil tightening inside Bernadette continued clenching, and tingling swept through her pussy and down her inner thighs.

“Frank,” she wheezed, “I’m about…” Desire corkscrewed through her lower abdomen, and for an instant, she couldn’t form any further words. “Almost…mmm…there.”

At that, he stiffened. He let out a satisfied yell, then pulsing warmth coated Bernadette’s passage. The sensation shoved her off the edge. Her orgasm crashed over and through her. She bucked backward, taking Frank by surprise, and he thrust three, four more times, milking the last of himself into her.

He stood there for a moment, then withdrew and flopped to the bed next to Bernadette. “I can’t seem to get enough of you,” he said.

“I hope you feel that way ten or 15 years from now.” Panting, she rolled to her back, her jeans and panties still around her ankles. “I’m surprised the newness hasn’t worn off by now.”

“With humans, perhaps, but wolves mate for life and so do lycanthropes, plus they need their mates sexually, just like needing air or food.”

“That’s good to know,” she replied.

“And that’s why you crave me, because something in you spoke to me as a mate.”

She nodded with a smile. “Yeah, Luella explained that to me a while back.” She rose and pulled off her panties and slacks. “I’m going to shower.” Winking, she walked butt-naked into the private bathroom.

 

* * *

 

When Frank didn’t join her in the shower, Bernadette knew something was wrong. She finished with her bath, then quickly toweled herself. Clean sweats and a matching shirt provided something easy for her to slip on. After running a brush through her hair, freeing it of all the tangles, she tied it back in a loose ponytail, stuffed her feet into her loafers and left the bedroom in search of her mate.

In the kitchen, Luella stood at the coffeemaker adding grounds to a filter for the house’s late-evening pot. She glanced over at Bernadette and frowned. “What’s wrong?”

“Have you seen Frank?” Worry poked at her. “He left without telling me.”

“He grabbed his jacket and flew outside,” Luella said and dropped the filter into the brew cup. “I just assumed he’d forgotten something in his pickup or in the workshop.”

“Okay, thanks.” Bernadette brushed past her.

“Did something happen?” her friend called behind her.

“That’s what I’m going to find out,” Bernadette hollered back.

She borrowed one of Luella’s heavy cardigans hanging in the coat corner and, before she had both arms into the garment, she pushed out into the chilly night air.

“Frank?” She stood a few feet away from the porch and listened. “Frank? Are you out here?”

A gust of wind struck her and she turned her head away from its cold kiss. The aroma of wintertime hung heavily in the night air. She looked skyward. Galaxy diamonds winked and sparkled, the image so vivid and defined that she took a moment to admire the stars before she headed toward the workshop, where mounted security lights showed the way.

Inside the shop, she found only darkness. Her worry mounting, Bernadette left the building and strode toward the back of the house, passing pumpkins and clusters of gourds, hay bales and clusters of cornstalks with which the women had decorated the lawns, stoops and the perimeter of the two porches. There, in the center of the backyard, stood Frank. She hurried toward him, but the sounds coming from him halted her in her tracks. He dropped to his knees and howled long and low.

“Frank!” She sprinted across the rest of the lawn and knelt beside him. “Are you okay?” She gripped his chin and turned his head toward her. He stared back at her from a face half-transformed. “What is causing this?” she asked.

“Stress,” he slurred.

“Stress from what?”

“I need to…talk to you about…something,” he garbled around the canines descending from his gums. “You might not like it…might not want to be with me…anymore.”

“What is it?” She kept a firm grip on his face. Panic claimed her, its grip almost mind-numbing. “Tell me now, Frank.”

“I want to turn you, make you a lycanthrope.”

Bernadette blinked. Why was Frank so worked up about asking her to become a werewolf? She regarded him as the half-moon above shone brightly in his eyes. She knew this was no lighthearted matter, but to keep his desire to himself for so long didn’t make sense. “This was what was bothering you?” she finally questioned. “This has obviously been eating at you, babe, something important to you, so why couldn’t you ask me sooner?”

“A born lycanthrope goes through painful changes, but for a person who is turned, it’s a thousand times worse.” He shut his eyes and wrestled with the shifting process. “For you, it would be excruciating.”

“I thought you and Luella were seeing each other on the side,” she said. At his stunned expression, she rushed on, cutting him off. “Luella explained to me that wasn’t the case, that you had something significant to tell me but it wasn’t bad. I guess this is it?”

“Yeah,” he panted. “But if you would do this for me, it is bad. I feel horrible for telling you. I have no right to ask you to go through so much pain and confusion just to become lykoi.”

Bernadette kept eye contact with him until he began to calm and the beast receded. In moments, Frank’s face looked totally human and his canines receded. He fell back onto the ground and lay with his arms splayed out.

“The pain of transforming is indescribable,” he said as he stared up at the sky. “Youngsters, ones from about 16 to 21, deal with lykoi hormonal changes, which makes puberty difficult, but when a lykoi starts to mature and that sexual drive kicks in, especially for males, we have to use an elixir to help battle it or some youngsters can cause big problems by killing livestock, family pets, or worse, go rogue.”

“The stuff Miranda makes and blends with her honey,” she stated.

He shot her a startled look.

She smiled. “I’ve seen Deputy Williamscot take it into the workshop, and I’ve heard the women discuss the Stellarmi boys in the community.”

He bobbed his head. “You’re right. Those boys are going through the maturity stage of being a lykoi. The testosterone does a number on us at that age. I want you and I to be mates in every way, and it will make it easier for us to have lykoi children”—he glanced over at her, then looked up at the stars again—“but I didn’t feel I had the right to ask you to go through that.”

“Frank, you could have discussed this with me long before now.” She lay her palm on his hastily buttoned shirt front. “I’ll have to think about this, learn more about the pros and cons, but I’m not saying no just yet.” She shrugged. “Who knows? I might decide to let you turn me, but for now, I need more information.”

“Really?” He sat up suddenly, the lights from the back windows illuminating his incredulous expression. “You’ll consider it?”

She leaned over and kissed him on the tip of his nose. “I love you, Frank. We’re mates. Of course I’ll consider it.” She pecked him on the lips. “But I want you to promise that if I decide to remain human that you won’t be mad at me. I understand disappointment, but please don’t be angry with me. I wouldn’t want this to affect our relationship.”

“Deal.”

Frank pounced on her and bore her to the ground, slipping his hand behind her head to cushion it. Grinding his hips into hers, he ravaged her mouth, plunging his tongue past her lips. Desire coiled in her pussy and spread inward to her core. She bucked against him, wanting him inside her.

“I can’t wiggle out of my sweatpants,” she gasped against his mouth. “You’re pinning me.”

“Let’s take this back upstairs,” he replied, raising his head. “Although I would like to make love to you under the stars, it’s too damn cold to have my ass hanging out.”

Bernadette burst into giggles.

 

* * *

 

The ride to the cabin had been silent. Phil left Daffodil to her thoughts as he maneuvered the country roads down to the Little Muskingum. He wished it was warmer. With the clear night sky and the half-moon, tonight would be a beautiful night to ride his Harley with Daffodil on the passenger pinion. She sat quietly and stared out the passenger window at the darkness, her breath hitching once in a while.

He made the turn up the hill, the truck bouncing all the way, then turned onto the lane to his home. The cabin’s security lights glowed warmly through the nearly bare trees, and he kept his attention on the twinkles of illumination as they pulled into the drive. He parked next to the porch.

“Got your stuff?” he asked.

“Yeah.”

He got out, then helped her out before leading her up to the front door. The wind roared around the house, blasting the driveway and buffeting their jackets.

“Oh!” Daffodil turned her face away from the gale. “I bet this winter will be horrible.”

“Seems like the weather of late is a warning of that, doesn’t it?” he replied. “Hell, at this rate, we might even have snow by Halloween.” He helped her up the steps, unlocked the door storm door, then held the screen while she entered. Once inside, he said, “Why don’t you put your backpack in the bedroom and I’ll make a pot of coffee—or would you rather have something stronger?”

“Coffee sounds good,” she replied as she strode toward the bedroom.

He couldn’t keep his gaze from zeroing in on her shapely ass incased in tight jeans. His leggy blonde had gorgeous sticks, and they went all the way up to a stellar back porch swing that aroused him so quickly that his cock was straining against his zipper in seconds.

“Down, boy,” he said and attempted to adjust himself.

He’d just hit the Start button on the coffeemaker when Daffodil walked into the kitchen. “Can we sit on the sunporch?”

“It’s probably super chilly out there, but there’s a small pot-bellied in one corner of it. I can build a fire and warm up the room.”

“I’m going out there to wait for you. I’ll grab that afghan on the back of the sofa and wrap up in it.” She sashayed out of the kitchen.

Again, his gaze found her ass. And his cock awakened for a second time too.

“You don’t listen worth a shit,” he said, staring down at his pelvis. “That’s okay. Neither do I.”

Phil rummaged in the fridge for their snack and decided on chunks of cheddar cheese and some ranch dressing as a dip, then made a note on the dry-erase board afterward to go shopping for groceries tomorrow. The coffeemaker beeped. He poured two cups of brew, placed them on a tray he’d taken from under the kitchen island and followed them with a plate holding the cheese cubes and dip.

He found Daffodil curled on the old, ratty love seat where he dozed on the sunporch during hot, lazy evenings. On the stand next to her, he set down the tray. He paused long enough to caress her cheek. She stared up at him with such wonder that something clenched his heart. He turned and focused on gathering kindling and newspaper, and fishing his lighter out of his pants pocket.

For the longest time, Daffodil sat quietly as he built the fire. Once he got the paper lit, he shut the door and opened the draft. Within seconds, the kindling caught and began cracking and snapping. Soon, he added larger pieces of wood, then shut the door again so the draft could draw air and rev up the flames.

The scent of wood smoke and dust permeated his nose. Tingling gripped it and he sneezed.

“Bless you.”

He stood and smiled down at her.

She patted the spot next to her, and he sat so that she could snuggle into his side.

“Do you have family?” she asked with her head on his shoulder.

“No, my parents were killed in an auto accident.”

“Aw, were you very young?”

“No,” he said. “I was a teenager. They left me this place and I found the Werewolves of Rebellion around the same time. The rest is pretty much history.” He slipped his arm farther around her body and drew her closer. “To be honest, I’ve lived a quiet life for the most part. Frank’s clan is a good one, and I wouldn’t trade my time with his MC and the community for anything. What about you? Got sisters? Brothers?”

“No, it was just my mom and me, but a biker beat her to death when I was about 12.”

Stunned, he sat quietly for a time. “Damn, baby, I’m sorry. Were you there when it happened?”

“Thankfully, no. For the longest time after, I kept expecting Mom to walk into our room, hug me, tug on my pony tail like she always did”—emotion broke her voice, but she recovered quickly—“and tell me she’d brought me some gum or a candy bar, but she never did.”

“You never got any closure, did you?”

She shook her head.

“Can you speak Russian for me?” he asked. “I love it when your accent shines through.”

“No. Sadly, I can’t recall any of it. I remember Mom talking to me in our native language, but now, when I try to recall the words, it’s jumbled in my head with her accent.” She suddenly looked so forlorn. “I’ve always dreamed of returning to my homeland to visit. Maybe reconnecting there would help me know who I really am.”

She seemed pensive, her gaze distant. Phil let her have her moment of inner reflection, then, finally, he asked, “Is Daffodil your real name?”

“Yeah, Mom always liked daffodils, said that after a hard winter in Russia that if she saw a yellow daffodil in the snow, she knew that spring was right around the corner and it gave her hope. So when I was born, she felt she had hope for a new life and named me after her favorite flower.” She lifted her shoulders in a small shrug that caused the afghan to fall around her hips. “But what she hoped would be a new life here in the States was based on a lie.” She told him about how her mother had been duped into paying for their passage to the US only to lose what little they had and end up as a sweetbutt just to keep food in Daffodil’s mouth.

“Damn,” he said, wishing he could erase the past for her. “That’s harsh.”

“It would have been worth what Mom went through, what I went through with her, if we’d just had a real chance.”

“But you’re changing your life around now,” he pointed out.

She shifted so she could look up at him. “That’s only because of you.”

He raised his eyebrows. “How so?”

She studied him for several seconds, then said, “I’m not sure. It’s something that radiates from you, something strong and full of hope that I see whenever I look into your eyes. It gave me the strength to start fighting back, Phillip, and I found I’d had enough of the way my life has been.”

“Aw, baby doll, you had the strength in you all along. If you hadn’t, you wouldn’t have known you were ready to begin a new, better life.”

She thought about that for a moment. A myriad of emotions passed through her eyes. “Maybe, but I meant what I said about you. I felt so drawn to you, and when something bad was happening to me, I’d see your face and my mind and suddenly I had strength.”

He couldn’t help himself. He captured her mouth with his. She parted her lips and cupped the side of his face with her unpinned hand. Her gentle action forged a desperate need in him to make her his forever. Deepening their kiss, Phil tangled his tongue with hers. Need shot straight to his groin, his cock straining painfully against his jeans. It has been a while since he’d had a woman, not even participating in sweetbutt night for months, but now he knew why. He’d been waiting for one woman—Daffodil, his flower of hope.

She broke the kiss and wriggled out of the cover. After straddling his hips, she kissed him back. Phil slid his hands inside her shirt, the sensation of her skin on his palms soft as silk. He wanted her naked, her pussy shoved down over his cock, gripping him, milking him… He groaned into her mouth and found the hook to her bra. It took him a few seconds, but he eventually release it, then palmed her breasts. She let out a startled sound and ground herself against him.

About to stand with her then disrobe, he paused as she murmured against his lips.

“Hmm?” he asked.

“I said we can have outercourse, but nothing else until I get checked at the clinic.”

He blinked several times as his hormones raged, then abated and blood returned to his starved brain. What she’d said doused him with reality. “Uhm…okay?”

She laughed softly. “I reached a point a few years ago where I couldn’t have an orgasm anymore, so sex meant nothing to me, and what Ezra does to me seems…perverted. He makes me come somehow and it leaves me feeling filthy and exhausted to the point I feel as though I could lie there and die. But you’ve changed something in me, Phillip.”

Fuck, how he loved it when she used his given name.

“I want you so badly that I could take my clothes off, lie on the floor next to that stove and spread my legs.”

He gulped audibly at the mental image she’d given him. His cock surged with blood yet again, and just the pressure of her jeans-encased pussy on top of his straining dick was about to make him come. He shut his eyes to get a grip on himself.

“But,” she continued, “even though Ezra insists that all his girls get checked every couple weeks for STDs and my last checkup was clean, I know nothing about Ezra or what women he’s been with, so I want to have the usual tests done again and a complete physical to be on the safe side.” Daffodil leaned in and nestled her head into the crook of his neck, winding her arms around his waist. “I don’t want to pass anything to you, baby. I couldn’t bear it if I hurt you in any way.” She squeezed him, and he realized he’d wait forever for her. “Are you okay with that?” she asked.

He chuckled, suddenly so touched and so proud of her at the same time. “More than okay, baby doll. That tells me you really do care about me.”

“Oh, more than you realize,” she whispered directly into his ear. She licked his earlobe.

Her words pushed goose flesh down his neck and over her chest. Phil growled low in his throat, willing his cock to listen to him and abate—and it stubbornly refused—but hugged her tightly and held her to his chest for a long time.

Finally, he said, “I guess I’ll have to pour us two fresh cups of coffee. Ours have grown cold. Plus, I need to stoke the fire.”

“Let’s use this time to tell each other everything,” she suggested.

“You start,” he said as she slipped over to her spot on the love seat.

“Okay,” she said, chuckling, “but coffee first. I’ll get fresh cups while you take care of the fire.”

Once she’d stood, he swatted her on her ass.

“My ass,” he stated with a grin.

“Yes,” she said, returning a brilliant smile. “For the first time, I’m going to give it willingly.” She rubbed the place he’d swatted and sauntered out with a little more sway to her hips than normal, but he loved every second of it.

 

Chapter Seventeen

 

Daffodil couldn’t believe it was almost Halloween. Tomorrow night the children of Frank’s clan would go around the community for trick or treat, then up to the main house for the annual Halloween party the MC hosted for first the children, then, after the kids were in bed for the night, the adults would party.

She’d never been with a motorcycle club like this one. Having grown up in an outlaw gang, then sold to another such gang once she was 14, passed to a third one when she was 18, then settling with the Wraithkillers for a few years before the River Rebels, Daffodil had seen nothing but debauchery, cruelty, drugs abuse, alcohol abuse, physical abuse, prostitution, lies and manipulation.

Until now.

Oh, how she’d fallen in love with these people. She’d even met Frank’s mother, Galina, a drop-dead gorgeous Italian woman, and his grandmother who was just as beautiful, despite her advanced lycanthrope age. They were mysterious and powerful. When either of the women spoke, they commanded attention and everyone, including the men, listened with respect. There was no way in hell she’d ever leave the Werewolves of Rebellion. And she’d die to protect them too—without any hesitation. When she’d told Phillip how she’d felt about his MC and its community, he’d replied that it had only been two weeks. But just as she’d thought he’d meant that she’d change her mind about them over time, she’d caught the smirk tweaking his lips and had swatted him on the ass. It was worth it, though. He’d grabbed her and kissed her so hard and long that she found herself curling her toes in her sneakers and happily breathless.

Now, helping Puppy, an adorable little Filipina, Daffodil shivered against the morning cold. Above the farm, the sky brooded with heavy, slate-gray clouds. The chilled air carried the aroma of crisp snow. Another gust of frigid wind ruffled their warm clothing, and sent the tassels on Puppy’s scarf to dancing. Daffodil held the bundle of cornstalks so Puppy could refasten them.

“The radio forecast this morning said possible snow showers tonight,” Puppy said. “I believe it after those gales that howled through here last night. A big wind like that always brings a major weather change.”

“Phillip has been saying for days that there would be snow by Halloween,” Daffodil replied.

“I hope it holds off so the kids can finish their trick or treat tomorrow night.” Puppy stepped back and surveyed her work. “Okay, I think you can let go now. It shouldn’t fall over anymore.”

Daffodil moved aside. The cornstalks with their wire-and-orange-ribbons around the center of the bundle held fast. After rolling a couple small pumpkins back against the base of the fall arrangement, Puppy motioned toward the destroyed display at the base of the back lawn’s shade tree, and Daffodil picked up the rolls of wire and ribbon as Puppy gathered the wire cutters, plyers and a battery-operated glue gun.

“Once we finish that other one,” Puppy said, “I think we’re done. I haven’t noticed any other messed-up arrangements, although the wind did blow a big pumpkin down to the barn, but Beastman said he’d bring it up later today. It’s too heavy for the two of us to carry.”

Strangely enough, Daffodil enjoyed feeding the chickens, gathering eggs, tossing in hay to the horses and even slopping the pigs—although the stench of the pigpen was an experience that she could do without. The first time she’d experienced it, she had to jog upwind from it just to catch her breath and wait for the stinging tears in her eyes to abate. Luella had given her a handkerchief, which helped some, but Daffodil didn’t have to slop the pigs often. She found the mundane farm chores, even the minor things like fixing what the wind had done last night to the autumn decorations, soothing. The tasks kept her hands busy and allowed her to sort through her emotions, her past traumas and her feelings for Phillip.

Phillip. Every time she thought of him, her heart started a crazy rhythm, blood thundered in her ears and heat peppered her skin. There were times she’d be in the kitchen helping with a meal and suddenly she’d find Bernadette or Luella snapping their fingers in front of her face to bring her back to reality. Luella would shake her head and say, “Damn, girl, you’ve got it bad,” followed by Bernadette laughing and patting Daffodil on the back.

Bernadette had surprised her. Here she’d thought her a bitch after what had happened between them at the Wraithkillers MC, but the perky redhead had turned into the best friend Daffodil had ever had. Although her abilities unnerved Daffodil from time to time, she also found the things Bernadette could do rather cool too.

The clinic still hadn’t called with her test results, but she’d been told a couple of the tests had to be sent away and those usually took two to three weeks to get back. She wanted Phillip so much that it stunned her. Every time he was near, her body hummed with need until she sometimes had to walk away from him so the throbbing in her folds would stop.

When Luella had noticed her taking breaks from Phillip’s presence, she’d taken Daffodil aside and asked what was wrong, then explained it was a natural reaction to a lycanthrope mate, and proof that they were destined to be together. Daffodil’s heart had thrilled at the idea.

“Well,” Puppy said, “this bunch of cornstalks just needed straightened. It won’t be long before we’re setting out stuff for Thanksgiving, then Christmas.”

“Christmas…” The word dazzled Daffodil’s mind.

“What about it?” Puppy asked as she tightened the ribbon around the corn.

Daffodil shook her head to clear her thoughts. “Oh, it’s just that I’ve never been with anyone who took Christmas seriously. I never had money to give gifts to my girlfriends, and they were the same. Hell, the only reason any of the one-percenter gangs I was with had a Christmas tree or holiday decorations was because the sweetbutts and old ladies scrounged up a few things. I remember one time we had a tree, but the only thing it had on it was strung popcorn, and one of the sweetbutts had cut a star out of a beer box and set it in the branches at the top.” She glanced over at Puppy, who wore a horrified expression. “Don’t feel sorry for me,” Daffodil hurriedly added. “I’m here now, and that’s all that matters.”

A beautiful smile lit up Puppy’s face, her straight teeth vivid white against her olive complexion, and her big puppy-dog eyes, which had earned her the nickname, glowed with happiness for Daffodil. Flustered, Daffodil looked away, then leaned over and tossed some colorful leaves around the gourds placed at the tree’s roots.

When Daffodil straightened, Puppy rose up on tiptoe and kissed her cheek. Startled, Daffodil placed her fingers over the spot. Heat rushed into her cheeks. “What was that for?”

“I’m happy for you, that’s all,” Puppy stated, still grinning. “Luella has an expression from an old cigarette ad years ago that she uses for people who have been to hell and back.”

“What is it?” More warmth flared in Daffodil’s face and spread down into her neck.

“‘You’ve come a long way, baby,’” Puppy quoted.

Suddenly, Daffodil found herself grinning back so wide that her cheeks hurt. “Yeah, I guess I have. It feels awesome.”

Tittering softly, Puppy said, “Come on. Let’s put this stuff away. We have a lot of decorating and cooking to do for tonight’s Halloween party.”

Daffodil hugged the tools to her chest and followed her friend into the main house. She couldn’t wait to get started. Besides, prepping for the festivities would help her keep her thoughts from straying to a dark-haired, dark-eyed, sexy-as-hell man.

 

* * *

 

Bernadette, her stomach in knots, sat at the table with Frank. In the laundry room, the sounds of Luella shutting the dryer door and starting it wafted in to them. When Daffodil and Puppy walked in, Bernadette waited for Frank to drop his bomb.

“Daffodil,” he said immediately.

“Yes?” The tall blonde placed some tools in a kitchen drawer, then turned and dropped spools of ribbon into a box full of decorations that sat on one of the table chairs. “Is something wrong?”

The anxiety in Daffodil’s voice bothered Bernadette. She patted Frank’s forearm. “Be gentle, babe.”

Daffodil yanked out a chair and practically fell on to it, dismay written all over her face. “What happened?” Fear weighted heavily in her voice. “Something has happened to Phillip, hasn’t it?”

“No, no,” Frank said, holding up a hand to stop her train of thought, “nothing like that. I just got a call from Deputy Williamscot. Ezra Smith was released and all charges dropped except for assault.”

Incredulous, Daffodil gaped at him. A low curse popped out of Puppy where she stood pouring herself a cup of coffee.

“I don’t know how he managed it,” Frank went on, “but there was no evidence to point to human trafficking except for the victims, but it was his word, and word of witnesses he supposedly had, against yours, Jess’, and the abductees’. He said it was a prank, and his buddies backed him, saying you wouldn’t have known anything about the prank and had assumed the worst. The victims are pressing assault charges, so at least Ezra and a few of his men will spend some time in jail—providing the judge doesn’t go lightly and just give them probation.”

Bernadette reached over and took Daffodil’s hand. The look on her friend’s face was a punch to Bernadette’s gut.

“I knew something like this would happen,” Daffodil whispered, a tremor in her voice. “He’s unnatural, a demon of some sort. He must’ve used some sort of power over the cops, made them believe him.” She looked sharply at Frank. “What about the extortion charges?”

“It seems that a few prospects got the rap for that.”

The flare of hope in Daffodil’s eyes extinguished. If only Bernadette could perform a spell to erase her friend’s fear. The devastation in the woman’s eyes tore at Bernadette’s heart.

“Ezra insisted he knew nothing about what they were doing,” Frank explained, “that they must’ve been trying to impress him so he’d make them full members by showing their loyalty in that manner. Also, just so you know, Deputy Williamscot is a good friend of mine, so he tells me things any other officer normally wouldn’t tell a citizen. Craig said he knew these latest developments were a crock of shit and that he’s going to keep his eyes and ears open to nail Ezra any way he can.” Frank sighed heavily and sat back in his chair. “I’m sorry, Daffodil. You realize what this means, right?”

“That I have to leave here so that the rest of you are safe,” she replied as tears wound paths down her cheeks.

“What? No!” Luella said from the doorway. “You’re not going anywhere.”

“Luella is right,” Puppy agreed. She turned and began pouring a second cup of coffee, then set it in front of Daffodil. “We like you and we’re all here for you. So you’re staying.”

Bernadette squeezed Daffodil’s hand. “What Frank is saying is that you’ll be under constant protection until we figure out a way to handle Ezra Smith.”

“Whenever Phillip isn’t here,” Frank explained gently, “you will be under the guard of one of the prospects or a male who is a full member, understood? Even if you’re with Bernadette or Luella, or even one of the other women, there will always be a male guard with you.”

Daffodil nodded, her lower lip wobbling. “I’m so…sorry.” Her breath hitched, and in a rush, Luella moved behind her, giving her a hug around her shoulders.

“We’ll figure out something about this asshole,” Luella said with conviction. “Don’t you worry, honey.”

“Just make sure you go nowhere without a guard,” Puppy chimed in, then refilled her mug.

“Don’t focus on it right now,” Bernadette suggested, needing to make Daffodil feel better. “We have so much to do for the kids’ trick or treating and the parties tomorrow night, so just enjoy decorating and having fun. After all, you won’t ever be alone.”

“Okay.” Daffodil nodded vigorously. “I’ll try.”

Bernadette wondered how they could protect someone against a demon—if that was what Ezra truly was—but there was a chance he was some other supernatural creature. Still, what would they do if they were wrong about him? The brand on her wrist began to burn. She turned it over to find it glowing soft red.

Frank gripped her hand. “Why is that mark glowing?”

Slowly, she explained how she’d gotten it.

“Why the fuck didn’t you tell me about this?” he roared.

Flinching, she snapped, “Don’t raise your voice to me, Frank Nightshade! You haven’t exactly been around a lot of late, and with all that you’re worrying about from the energy rights monies, the insurance claims and now this, I didn’t want to lay something else on you when I could solve it myself.”

He wilted and let out a big sigh. “I’m sorry, babe.” He drew her against him and kissed the top of her head. “You’re right. So, so sorry.”

“It’s okay.” She leaned over and kissed his cheek.

“Well, now that this episode of Sons of Anarchy is over,” Luella quipped, “I have a suspicion.”

That grabbed Bernadette’s attention. “What is it?”

“We obviously have demon women coming in to the house during sweetbutt nights, right?”

Bernadette nodded. Frank waited expectantly.

“Out with it, Luella,” Puppy urged.

“Who’s to say that if these so-called women can change from human form to succubus form that this Ezra guy can’t do it too—providing he’s truly a demon, as Daffodil believes, or the right kind of demon to do so.” Standing with her hands on Daffodil’s shoulders as if to ground the woman, Luella stared directly at Bernadette.

“Oh, hell.” Bernadette whipped her head toward Frank. “She might be on to something.”

“Fuck,” he mumbled. “How do we protect you and Daffodil from something like that? Or anyone else here at the MC for that matter?”

Frowning, Bernadette shook her head at him. “Why do you always forget that I’m a white witch?”

“I don’t forget,” he stated firmly. “But you’re an apprentice witch, natural one or not.”

“Daffodil”—Bernadette focused on her new friend—“as soon as we can get away, you and I are going to meet with Scary Mary.”

“Scary who?” Daffodil asked, confused. “The big black woman people see around these parts?”

“Yep,” Puppy confirmed. “She’s a bruja.” At Daffodil’s perplexed look, Puppy added, “A witch.”

“Take a guard with you,” Frank groused as he ran his fingers through his hair.

“I will,” she said and rose to pour herself a cup of coffee too. “I promise.”

 

Chapter Eighteen

 

Phil had been looking forward to the Halloween party all week. Bernadette had taken Daffodil up to Wheeling to visit the costume shop early that morning, so he couldn’t wait to see what his lady had found for the party. He’d gone to the same shop earlier in the week and had rented a swashbuckler getup right down to the boots to finish it off.

He had volunteered to go into town for more ice and pick up the cheese trays Luella had ordered for the kids. He parked and hurried into the store, picked up the required items and headed back out to his pickup, anxious to return to the MC and see Daffodil again, maybe this time in a scanty costume. Damn, he wanted her so much, but as of yet, her test results hadn’t arrived. It didn’t matter, though. She was definitely worth the wait, and the anticipation of making love to her for the first time would only make it that much sweeter.

He stowed the cheese trays on the bench seat of his truck, and the third one he placed on the passenger floorboard, making sure the plastic lid remained tightly fitted to the tray. He slammed the door and headed over to the ice chest at the head of the next parking spot. He loaded two bags into the back of the truck, placing them against the cab, then returned for two more, then finally, the last two. He turned to walk around to the driver’s side.

Someone’s fist connected with his jaw. Phil reeled back against the passenger door.

Two River Rebels stood trying to menace him. A few feet behind the guys, stood a tall, golden-haired, blue-eyed man. They guy, impeccably dressed in shiny, dark cowboy boots and an expensive, black business suit, shot him a venomous look.

“Hit him again,” the man ordered.

This time, Phil ducked the blow, threw an uppercut into the guy’s diaphragm and spun away just as the second biker reached for him. Phil kicked the biker square in the gut, dropping him so that he collapsed face-first on the pavement, gasping and wheezing. The first man came at him again, this time with a knife.

“I wouldn’t do that,” Phil warned.

“Yeah?” the guy sneered, his goatee peppered with what looked like corn chip crumbs. “Why not?”

“Well, if you don’t mind taking it up the ass, you probably won’t notice when I shove that knife up it.”

“Motherfucker,” Corn Chips growled. “You’ll be the one with this knife shoved into your gut.”

“Better than my ass,” Phil shot back, “but you still gotta prove you can do it.”

Corn Chips lunged at Phil, who blocked the knife every time the biker sliced or thrust it at him, but as Phil did so, a part of his attention flicked to the blond guy watching from a distance.

The second attacker, his face twisted in agony, still lay moaning on the pavement. Corn Chips tried another round of thrusts, slices and jabs only to have Phil block him every time again.

“Finish him!” the blond yelled.

Biding his time, Phil slipped one hand into his pants pocket and withdrew his phone. In a few seconds, he’d hit nine-one-one, but his assailant struck at him, knocking the phone from his grasp. It hit the asphalt and plastic flew three different directions.

“Dude, you better thank your lucky stars I have insurance on that cell.” With that, Phil disarmed Corn Chips, flung the knife toward the blond, then punched the Corn Chips so hard pain exploded in Phil’s knuckles and sang up his arm. The guy fell to his knees, his eyes rolling back in his head, then flopped to one side and lay still. Phil leaned over and checked him for a pulse as the second jerk still groaned and whimpered, his hands clasped tightly to his diaphragm.

Phil rose and spun toward the blond. The guy clutched his upper arm where blood seeped through his fingers and had begun to soak his suit sleeve. The blade, shining with blood, lay at his feet.

Sirens screamed from the sheriff’s department on the hilltop.

“Such a stupid motherfucker,” the blond slurred. At first, Phil thought he might be drunk, but when the man bared very long fangs at him, he jerked in surprise. “I was only going to have you roughed up to warn you off from my Russian beauty, but now you are so dead!”

Fury roared through Phil. He held his hands out to his sides as the sirens wailed even closer. “I’m right here, dude. Bring it. There’s no way I’ll give up Daffodil. I’ll die first.”

“That will be arranged.”

Two black-and-whites raced into the parking lot. Phil shot a glance over at the cruisers as they ground to sudden stops behind his pickup. He looked back at the blond—who was gone. “What the fuck?”

He walked over to where the man had been standing. The knife was gone too, but drops of blood remained on the pavement. He scanned the grocery pickup area, then across the parking lot. That golden hair was unmistakable, but the man was nowhere to be seen.

The officers approached him, each one with a hand on their holsters, the security straps unsnapped.

Phil held his hands up and out. “Easy, guys. You can ask those people waiting to load their groceries about what happened. I just defended myself. There was another dude here too, but he took off.”

As the officers started assessing the scene and asking questions, Phil couldn’t help but worry about Daffodil and Bernadette. Daffodil insisted Ezra was a devil, and Bernadette, from what he’d overhead last night, had been magically branded for some reason by a blond man with vivid, blue eyes.

He might be taking a leap based only on coincidence, but he didn’t believe he was wrong. He’d just met Ezra Smith in one form or another. The devil wanted his Russian beauty back, but Phil wasn’t about to give her up.

 

* * *

 

“Why the hell are you so late?” Luella grumped at Phil. “You should’ve been here over two hours ago.”

“I’ll put the cheese plates in the basement fridge, Luella,” Bernadette soothed. “Half an hour and they’ll be ready to put on the tables.”

Daffodil looked up from the dining room where she worked with about a dozen women cutting streamers and taping them up along with decorations of funny jack-o’-lanterns, grinning skeletons, ghosts, scary witches—because Bernadette had insisted that bad witches could be used as Halloween décor—and comical-looking images of Frankenstein for the kids’ party.

“Phillip?” Daffodil set the roll of black streamer down on a chair seat and hurried through to the kitchen. “Are you all right?”

Bernadette paused with one of the cheese platters balanced on her hands.

“I’m fine, baby doll.” He drew her into his arms, hugging her tightly.

She breathed in the odor of his leather cut and the distinct spiciness of his own personal scent mixed with his favorite cologne. As usual, blood raced to her pussy and the expected throbbing began anew. His touch, warmth and intoxicating aroma soothed and simultaneously excited her.

He released her, then quickly relayed what had happened to him just as Frank walked in.

“So they didn’t detain you except to question you?” Frank asked.

“That’s it,” Phil answered.

“No cuts or wounds?” Bernadette asked, concerned.

“No, but the two River Rebels can’t say the same.”

“Don’t take it personally, Phil,” Frank said. “Deputy Williamscot wants to nail Ezra to the wall.”

“That’s not all,” Phil stated and finished by telling them what the blond man had said about Daffodil. “I’m worried about Bernadette too. If this is the same guy and he’s able to take on different forms, both of our women are in more danger than we thought.”

Bernadette stood eyeing Phil with her mouth ajar, eyes wide.

Terror unfurled in Daffodil. There was no way she could stand being touched by Ezra again, no matter what form he might take on. She’d die first.

“Hey.”

Phillip’s voice brought her back to herself. She stared up at him.

“He’s not touching you, understand? I won’t let him have you—ever.”

She snuggled into him, wrapping her arms about his waist and squeezing as hard as she could.

“I love you, baby doll.”

Shocked, she gasped and stepped back. “You mean it?”

Luella let out a snort that sounded like part sympathy, part “aw” moment.

“I wouldn’t say it if I didn’t mean it,” Phil replied with conviction. His lovely, dark eyes shone with love for her—indeed, he spoke the truth.

Fuck. She hated it when her emotions took over. Ever since she’d found a home with the Werewolves of Rebellion, it seemed as though her sappy side dominated her now. “I love you too, Phillip,” she managed to squeak out through her tight throat. “With all my heart.”

“Damn you two!” Luella groused and snatched a dish towel from the counter. “I just put on my makeup for the party tonight.” She sniffed and dabbed at her eyes. “Now I’ll have to do it all over again.”

Everyone laughed, and Phillip hugged Daffodil for a long, long time.

 

* * *

 

The community children and the few who resided in the main house with their parents all began gathering around four p.m. Bernadette made sure there were plenty of paper plates and cups, as the younger kids went through them so quickly, forgetting where they’d set the last ones they’d used or refusing to mix certain food items together on the same plate. She remembered how, when she was very young, she hated to have her spaghetti touching her garlic bread or salad. The memory brought a smile to her face.

* * *

 

“Don’t you want some spaghetti?” she asked Daffodil.

The woman threw several sauce-covered plates into a trash bag and wrinkled her nose in distaste. “No, not me. I grew up eating so much macaroni and cheese that I can barely stomach any kind of pasta. Although I have to admit Luella’s chicken with noodles is rather good. When I ate that recipe, it was the first time in years I’ve had pasta.”

“Well, there are meatballs and garlic bread,” Bernadette suggested.

“If you don’t mind me taking a break,” Daffodil replied, “I think I will have some of that.”

“Go on. I’ve got this.” She shooed her friend away.

Phil intercepted Daffodil in the kitchen and took her into his arms, kissing her. Finally, Phil had a woman who made him happy. Although an intelligent and genuinely sweet guy, he’d always been so standoffish, a loner, but Daffodil brought something out in Phil that everyone around him said changed his whole countenance. Phil smiled more, laughed more, seemed more at ease with the world. Happiness for Phil filled Bernadette. Both he and Daffodil deserved the best out of life.

She let her gaze wander over the children who ranged from just walking to nearly 12 years of age. They wore a mix of costumes from homemade to store bought, and from dinosaurs and bumble bees to scary witches and lovely princesses to mummies, zombie killers, goopy zombies and even a TV set constructed from cardboard and one of the Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles, but she had no idea which one, despite the color of his bandanna.

It would be nice to have two or three children of her own, but for now, she and Frank wanted to enjoy each other for a while. She had been considering Frank’s request of letting him turn her. The pain of the transitions would last for two or three years until it lessened to a tolerable level, and even though she’d have an elixir provided by Galina or Craig’s wife, Miranda, the few in the community who were turned lykoi had told her that, at times, the pain actually caused them to pass out.

Shivering at the thought of such bone-bending discomfort, Bernadette set out another stack of foam cups. She retrieved a second jug of punch from the kitchen fridge, then returned to the dining room, where she poured the fresh bottle into the almost-empty punch bowl. She monitored the kids again, leaned back slightly and shot a glance through the farthest doorway into the living room to check on the others, then capped the jug and set it under the table.

Most of the men were in attendance. They helped manage not only the children, but were keeping vigil for any unfamiliar faces that might appear in a corner or where the light of the evening didn’t quite reach. Bernadette tried not to be so uptight, but when dealing with demons, she didn’t know what to expect. With all the work that went into the little ones’ party then the stuff for the adults’ party afterward, she hadn’t had a chance to introduce Daffodil to Scary Mary and discuss their situation.

Someone put a Halloween CD in the sound system and Michael Jackson’s “Thriller” began to play.

“Come dance with me, gorgeous,” Frank said next to her ear, startling a gasp from her. “The family room is all cleared for dancing.”

“Oh, I don’t know…”

Frank led her through to the next room. “Watch me and you’ll get the basics of the dance moves. And don’t worry about getting them exactly right—this is all for fun.”

After a few minutes of going through the moves, he had Tom restart “Thriller,” and soon Bernadette was laughing so hard she had tears in her eyes, and Frank had to stop to lean against the fireplace mantle before he collapsed, roaring in laughter.

“I had no idea you could dance like that!” Bernadette managed through giggles.

Several of the male members all laughed too. “Do it again, Frank,” one of them hollered across the room.

“Dude, he’s so damn scary-looking, he doesn’t need to zombie dance,” Beastman shouted back.

“That zombie costume is amazing,” Bernadette told her mate after she finally caught her breath. “Where on earth did you find it—and no wonder you didn’t want me to see it until tonight. What a cool surprise!”

“Actually, my mother found it online and ordered it.”

Bernadette pointed to Galina, then to Frank and said loudly, “Awesome costume!”

With a wide, wicked grin, Galina raised her glass of punch in acknowledgment.

“What are you wearing after the party?” Frank asked, his voice low. “How about your birthday suit?”

“And miss the party? Not a chance.”

He growled, sending a thrill rippling over Bernadette’s skin.

“Time for trick or treat!” Luella called. “All you kids line up on the carport. If anyone doesn’t have a bag or bucket, let me know. I have extra store bags.”

Lost in the bustle of children rushing outside, Bernadette waved to Frank, then exited the house to help corral the kids on the carport. They walked as a large group down to the community, then spent the next hour, as full darkness settled over the farm, going door to door hollering, “Trick or treat!”

Delighted to carry baby Jasmine, who was barely 16 months old and whose mother had broken her ankle a couple days ago, Bernadette breathed in the aroma of lavender baby soap that wafted from her headful of softy, downy, pale hair. The child clutched a pumpkin bucket to her chest and grinned each time someone dropped candy into it. Oh, to have a little one like this one who was part her and part Frank. Would becoming a lycanthrope make it any easier for their children? So far, what she’d witnessed among the lykoi kids, they lived normal lives, went to school and blended effortlessly with human children. However, would it be better to remain human and take the chance of one baby being human too, and the other with an inner, supernatural beast?

She didn’t know what to think or feel. But she loved Frank and she would adore any children they had together.

At her mother’s little cottage, Bernadette leaned over so her mom could drop lollipops into Jasmine’s bucket. The child uttered “kanku,” and her mother chortled with delight.

“What a sweetheart,” she said. “You and Frank need to have a few of these.”

“We’re talking about it.” When her mother’s eyes lit up, Bernadette rushed on. “But we want to enjoy each other for a while before we do.”

“That’s a wise idea,” her mom stated, nodding sagely. “Once you have one or more kids, your life is all about them. Right down to you not having time to comb your hair or brush your teeth because they keep you so busy and worn out.” She chortled again, then blew raspberries at Jasmine, who giggled happily. “Do what you need to do first, Bernadette, then focus on having children.” She smiled softly at Jasmine. “But I can’t wait to have grandbabies.”

“Love you, Mom,” Bernadette said, waving with her free hand.

“Have fun at the party,” her mother called after her. “This ol’ girl has had enough fun for one day. Happy Halloween!”

Bernadette dropped the baby off with her mother, who thanked her several times for taking Jasmine around, then Bernadette hurried to catch up with Puppy and Callie May as they began the trek back to the MC. Tom saw her and jogged to accompany her up the hill.

“Thanks, Tom,” she said.

“No problem.”

“After all that,” Callie May said tiredly, “I don’t know if I have the energy to party with the big kids.”

Puppy laughed and Bernadette joined in. Tom’s rich chuckles melded with theirs.

When they finally reached the top of the hill and began approaching the carport, Bernadette spotted a familiar figure and her heart sank. If Scary Mary was waiting for her, then she had something important to discuss with Bernadette.

“I’ll be right inside on the sunporch,” Tom told her. “If you need me, holler.”

Puppy and Callie May both cast dubious glances at first Mary, then Bernadette but said nothing as they followed Tom inside.

“What’s wrong?” Bernadette asked, pulling Mary away from the door so others could enter.

“Humph, just because I show up, you think something is wrong.” The busty woman rolled her eyes, then straightened her heavy cloak before slipping her strong, brown hands through the arm slits and folding them across her middle.

The woman’s mock outrage forced a smile to Bernadette’s lips, but she hid it before Mary knew she was on to her. “You have yet to come all the way up here to the MC without something on your mind or a message to give me,” Bernadette said.

A huge grin broke out on Mary’s face, her perfect teeth stark against her skin. “You got me there, child.” She laughed and slapped a massive thigh. “But you’re right. Something is wrong. My runes are talking of comeuppance and your name keeps coming up, as does Phil Andrews’. And I sense magic from another source, but I can’t figure out who it is.”

Frowning, Bernadette asked, “Seriously? You have no idea?”

The woman shook her head vigorously, her salt-and-pepper locs whipping to and fro. “No idea, but I can say that it’s a woman, a good woman. She’s not quite as powerful as you are—yet—but I think she’ll be a big help to you in a time of need.”

Trepidation slithered through Bernadette. “Do you think the bad part of what the runes told you is tied to Ezra Smith?”

“Without a doubt.”

“Shit.” She swept her gaze over the surrounding area, expecting to see a blond man appear out of the shadows. “How do we defend ourselves?”

Her mentor handed her a piece of paper. “Use this spell. Write it down in your grimoire under protection spells. When everything about this situation is over, make sure you update the information for the type of demon Ezra is and how well the spell worked, plus any other details you notice along the way. Such notes may prove very helpful for future problems.”

“Thank you, Mary. You know you’re aces, right?”

“Of course I do.” The witch beamed at her and batted her eyelashes. “I’m one mean mama jamma, remember?”

Bernadette giggled at her friend’s silliness, then, on impulse, she stepped up to her and hugged her. At first, Mary stiffened, but within seconds, she relaxed and hugged Bernadette back, patting her soundly over her shoulder blades.

When Bernadette released her, a deep red infused Mary’s cheeks, but Bernadette pretended not to notice the woman’s awkwardness.

“You’re a good woman, Bernadette,” Mary stated, her voice a bit higher-pitched than usual. “You’re like one of my children. Stay safe.” She waggled a thick, crooked index finger at her. “Watch for unexpected alliances and be open-minded about them. And use your head, child. No rash decisions. After all, this is the one night of the year where the veil between the worlds is the thinnest. Anything might come through it.”

“I will, Mary.”

“Good.” She ambled away, heading toward the back lawn, her cloak swirling around her hiking boots. “Happy All Hallows’ Eve!” she yelled over her shoulder as she vanished into the darkness.

 

Chapter Nineteen

 

After Bernadette donned her costume of a sexy Martian woman, right down to smearing green face paint over her face and other exposed areas of skin, she fixed her hair so it cascaded in curls around her shoulders, the rich auburn contrasting wickedly with the green. She slipped on antennae, hiding the band in her hair and twisted the green glitter balls on the ends so they began blinking. A green, sparkly belly band hung loosely around her trim waist, where it dazzled the eye. The silver top hugged her ample Ds, and the matching short skirt and shiny silver go-go-style boots gave her the appearance of having longer, slimmer legs. Not that she was overweight by any means, but when stacked like she was, the illusion of height didn’t hurt, either. Confident that she’d stun her man, leaving him speechless and promising a night of wild, hot sex, she headed downstairs where someone had already begun to feed CDs into the stereo. The bass vibrated the house.

At the bottom of the staircase, Bernadette took a moment to peek through the dining room doorway, then into the family room, where she found Frank. When she walked in, Beastman elbowed him, then pointed. Frank turned. His eyes widened, mouth falling open. Shocked, he dropped his cup, splashing his drink across the carpet.

“Oh for the love of…” Luella, made up like a big spider complete with legs that wavered in every direction, hurried across the room with napkins from a snack table and dabbed up the whiskey.

Smirking, Bernadette performed her best catwalk strut toward her man.

Whistles and cat-calls echoed in the room. Beastman stared at her too, until Luella smacked him across his chest with the wet napkins.

“Damn it, woman,” he snarled. “You got booze on my breastplate.”

“Behave yourself,” she countered, “or I’ll feed my gladiator to the lions.”

Several of the prospects standing nearby chuckled at that. Bernadette had to grin too.

“Holy fuck,” Frank said, drawing her attention back to him. “Green and silver are definitely your colors.”

“Thank you, babe.” She fluttered her eyelashes. “Are you making promises?”

“Damn straight. Promises I intend to keep.”

“Get a room!” someone yelled.

Laughing, Bernadette snuggled into his side.

“What would you like to drink?” Beastman asked. “I’ll make you something.”

“Spiced rum and cola?” she said.

“Coming right up.”

She admired the costumes and checked every person who entered. So far, she recognized all the faces, right down to the newest sweetbutts, Kiki, Erica, and the third whose name always escaped her. All three wore revealing devil-girl outfits right down to horn bands in their hair and little red pitchforks.

Puppy, in the costume of the Snow White queen in hag form, sat next to Callie May, who boasted a frightening getup of a slasher nurse complete with latex wounds and fake blood.

“Flying Purple People Eater” poured from the sound system. The three sexy devil-girl sweetbutts led a few of the other sweetbutts in a silly, gyrating dance to the music, and everyone burst out laughing.

“You seem on edge, babe,” Frank said.

She relayed her encounter with Scary Mary.

“Great. Just what we need.” He knocked back a replacement drink. “Maybe the night will pass without incident.”

“And maybe it won’t,” she mumbled under her breath.

Her power, suddenly simmering under her skin, covered her entire body, the sensation like pinpricks. Somewhere, someone here wasn’t who they professed to be. Magic hung in the air…dark magic.

 

* * *

 

By 11:00 p.m., Daffodil had had enough. Although she’d been having fun, she just wanted to go back to the cabin with Phil, snuggle with him on the sunporch while a fire crackled in the pot-bellied stove, and listen to the wind howl around the house as they told each other things about their lives.

Her gaze landed yet again on Bernadette. She didn’t understand why, but something about the woman spoke to her, as if they had to come together to do something important. She shook off the notion, but it returned stronger each time. Her friend looked stunning in her Martian costume, but as the evening wore on, she seemed to grow more nervous and tired.

“What’s on your mind, Daffodil?” Phillip asked as he handed her a pig in a blanket.

“I’m ready to go home,” she said. “I’ve had enough and just want to go spend some time with you before we crawl into bed.”

“Sounds like a great plan,” he said, then popped a potato chip into his mouth. After chewing and swallowing, he followed her gaze to Bernadette. “She looks tired, doesn’t she?”

“I was thinking the same thing.” Daffodil frowned. “I hope she’s okay. I’m going to tell her and Luella good night, then we can leave.”

“I’ll be right here.”

She approached Luella first, gave her a hug, then walked over to Bernadette.

“Are you going home?” Bernadette asked, surprised.

“Yeah, after years of partying hard, these things tend to zap me now.” She met Bernadette’s eyes, the green of them not as vivid as usual. “You okay?”

“Just on edge.”

Daffodil took Bernadette’s hands into her own. A zing shot up her arms, and they both jumped.

“What was that?” Daffodil asked.

“I have no idea,” Bernadette replied. “Static electricity, maybe?”

Nodding, Daffodil smiled and bid her good night. She couldn’t wait to get home.

Home. What a beautiful word. On the sunporch, she waited as Phillip retrieved her shawl. It was too cold to really wear it for warmth, but the pickup would heat up quickly. The colors and beads looked great with her ice queen dress, and besides, it would be the last time she got to wear the shawl until next year.

“Ready, baby doll?” Phillip asked.

She smiled. “Ready.”

 

* * *

 

Phil kept his attention on their surroundings as Daffodil clambered into his Dodge and slammed the door. Music pulsed from the MC, but wind’s howls and whines around the Victorian and the surrounding barns and outbuildings overpowered the thrumming bass. The wind had grown steadily stronger since the night before, the weather forecasts stating that some gusts were upward of 60 miles per hour. He stood on the carport, tipped his head back and inhaled a lungful of crisp, wintry air. Snow was coming. There was no doubt about that. There was something else on the wind that his beast detected, only he couldn’t pinpoint what it was.

He started to walk around the front end of his truck, but a noise, one that sounded like a man’s deep laugh from a distance, halted Phil in his tracks. What the fuck? Had he really heard that? He listened for a long moment, the blustery weather chilling him through his leather coat and his swashbuckler costume. Dry leaves skittered across the concrete and tumbled around his feet, the papery sound giving him images of huge spiders on their way to spin their silken threads over him. He shook off the Halloween fancies and met Daffodil’s gaze through the windshield, her expression bewildered and worry in her eyes.

She was already scared enough as it was, so he moved on around to his driver’s door and hopped in behind the steering wheel.

“You acted like you saw or heard something,” Daffodil stated, her voice tiny.

He could lie and say there was nothing wrong, but even though he knew no one was outside with them, somehow there was. He’d heard the laugh, even identified it as male. “Just thought I heard someone, but I guess it was sounds coming from the house.”

“Are you sure?”

He thought about it a moment. “Mostly sure. The wind distorts sound, so maybe a gust was funneling through the barn eaves and it just sounded like a person.”

She seemed to accept his theory, and he started the truck. He hoped his senses were wrong, but he knew they seldom were.

 

* * *

 

At the cabin, Phil changed on the sunporch and put his costume back in the garment bag as Daffodil removed her ice queen ensemble in the bedroom. Back in warm clothes, even opting for soft lounge pants and a simple pocket T, he set to work stoking the fire in the little stove.

A shadow fell over him. He looked over his shoulder to find Daffodil.

“Do you think we have enough groceries for a few days?” he asked. “After $300, it still doesn’t seem like there’s much in the fridge or the cupboards.”

“I thought the same,” she answered. “We could use more meat, and it doesn’t seem like you have any condiments in the kitchen except ketchup.”

“Well, I don’t have to work tomorrow, so we can go back out again, maybe pick up anything you would like such as nail polishes, some makeup or whatever else you want or need.”

“Phillip, you shouldn’t spend money on me like that.”

“Why not? It’s just been me for years, and the only bills I have are my truck payment and insurance on it.”

“We’ll see.” She trailed her fingers over his shoulders as she swept past him to the sofa.

“You seem like there’s something on your mind,” he stated, then reached for the poker.

“Just something…strange.”

He didn’t need to turn around to hear the awe in her voice. “Strange how?”

“When I took Bernadette’s hands in mine, we were zapped by something. She said it was probably static electricity, but it didn’t feel that way to me.”

“What do you think it was?” He jabbed at the hot coals.

“It felt like…well, power.”

“Power?” He didn’t like the direction the conversation was taking.

“Magic has a different feel to it,” she explained. The sofa springs creaked, and air wafted over him, so he knew she’d shaken out the afghan to spread over herself. “I know this because of dealing with Ezra, but this was a totally different type of power.”

“Bernadette is a witch,” he pointed out.

“I’d thought of that, but it surprised her as much as it did me, so I don’t think she was the sole cause of it.”

He shut the little cast-iron door and stood to face her. “Do you think some of the”—he gestured, unable to define what the women might have experienced—“whatever it was, came from you?”

Shrugging, she gazed up at him. “I really don’t know, but it sure was weird.” She pointed to the small flat-screen TV on a stand opposite the sofa. “I see you moved the TV from the bedroom to here. Does it have satellite connection?”

“No, but we can watch DVDs.”

“Sounds nice. I love it out here on the sunporch, but right now, I’d rather just sit and talk.”

He nodded and sat next to her, drawing her into his arms. “Works for me. It’s too late to start a movie anyway.”

“I love you so much, Phillip,” Daffodil said, her voice full of emotion. “I hope the test results are back on Monday.”

“Don’t worry, baby doll.” He stroked the fingers of one hand back and forth over her bare upper arm. “I bet you’ll have them then. Besides, you know I love you right back, don’t you?”

She nodded.

“Good, because there’s more to a relationship than sex.”

“I know, but this constant craving for you is driving me crazy.” She sighed in frustration. “Luella and Bernadette explained why it’s so strong, but still…”

“Trust me, I understand.”

He leaned over to kiss her temple, but at the same time, she turned her head to look at him and his kiss landed at the corner of her mouth instead. Laughing softly, Daffodil cupped one side of his face and kissed him fully on the mouth. The lust that rose in Phil from that simple action stunned him. He shifted, bearing her to the side, then down along the length of the couch so that she lay flat on her back. His attention went from kissing her luscious mouth to moving his lips down the side of her neck, then into the V of her loose-fitting pajama top. He pulled the afghan aside, letting it fall to the floor, then drew her shirt up over her belly to her chest, revealing her bare breasts. He paused to admire them, their size and firmness just the way Phil liked, the nipples dark pink and already hardening. Before she could protest, he dropped his head and latched on to the left nipple.

“Oh!” Daffodil arched under him. “Phillip!”

She ran her hands down his back, dragging her nails over the thin material of his shirt. He growled and sucked harder on the pert nub in his mouth.

“Phillip!”

Her cries spurred him onward. Phil ground his hips into hers, wanting desperately to bury his cock as deeply into her as possible. He switched to the other breast and delivered the same tongue action to it. Daffodil writhed under him, ripping at his shirt until she had it up around his neck. He stopped only long enough to finish shrugging out of it, and it too landed on the floor. She’d taken her top off and lay naked from the waist up, waiting for him. Phil took a few seconds to soak up the beauty of her, his tall, leggy Russian Daffodil. What an incredible woman, a woman who had overcome so much and was on a new path for a great life. It humbled him that she had chosen him to be a part of it.

“Come here, handsome,” she said with a kittenish smile.

He let her guide him by his shoulders as she tipped her head up slightly to meet him in a kiss. As their lips met, a tiny spark popped between them. She gasped, then giggled, but that snap shot straight to his groin. He captured her lips, plunging his tongue past them, and ground his cock against her, wishing for release, even if it was to come in his briefs. The need to be one with her had gone from frustrating to downright excruciating. She tasted of the tropical drink mix he’d fixed her earlier that evening, the banana and coconut flavors heightening the sweetness of her mouth. Fuck, he could claim her right now without a second thought, ravage her until he fucked her into the sofa cushions.

Ending the kiss, he rolled to the edge of the couch, his libido screaming it wanted more, and Phil trying desperately to gain control of it. He palmed first one of her breasts, massaging it, then the other. Daffodil moaned and pushed into his palm as he alternated between them.

“No one has ever made me feel this way, Phillip,” she murmured, her eyes closed, “and I truly mean it.”

“Trust me, baby doll, I want you so badly that my dick might shatter.”

She giggled at that. “Well, since we’re past outercourse now”—she took his hand and smoothed it down her abdomen to the band of her pajama bottoms—“maybe we can enjoy more intimate foreplay.”

He gulped. If he touched her pussy, made her come by finger-fucking her, there was no way he wasn’t going to finish in his briefs. It wouldn’t be the relief he wanted, but it sure as hell would ease the mounting pressure. He slipped his fingers under the band of her slacks and found that she wore no panties. A low moan escaped him. He’d bet the woman slept naked too. Gliding his hand down farther, palm flat and fingers pointed toward her sex, he found a small patch of pubic hair that tantalized his skin. He shut his eyes, mentally telling his cock to behave itself and receiving a harder throb that told him it didn’t give a shit what he thought. At the edge of her pubic bone, he curled his fingers over it, detecting the tip of her pussy, the first little indentation promising heat, velvet sensation and a way to send Daffodil soaring over the edge.

“Mmm…” She sighed and raised her hips, offering him the promise of what was inside her.

Phil palmed her mound, and she nearly shot up off the cushions.

“Holy hell,” she gasped. “I don’t know if I can keep from making love to you. Maybe we should stop before—”

He stroked the innermost part of her folds, her pussy silky, wet and delightfully hot.

“Fuck!” She jerked her hips. “Want you so badly, Phillip.”

Damn his cock. It throbbed so hard, so painfully, that it would be only a matter of seconds before he’d have to go change his pants, but he couldn’t stop touching Daffodil, and the idea that he could make her explode so easily just by fingering her fueled his desire to bring her to completion. He slipped his middle finger into her core. A kitten’s mew fell from Daffodil’s lips. When he was sure she had a grip on herself, he inserted his index finger, then his ring finger.

She lay panting, eyes squeezed shut, body arched, breasts pointed to the ceiling. He pumped his fingers.

“Oh!” She thrust against his hand.

Clenching his teeth in an effort to maintain control of himself, he pumped his fingers again, then again.

“Phil…lip!”

His cock so fucking hard he couldn’t stand it any longer, Phillip began plunging his fingers in and out of her like pistons. Her passage gripped his fingers, the satiny feel of it making him wish desperately that it was his dick inside her instead. She met him thrust for thrust, her moans and soft exclamations building his own desire. He pumped a little faster, and she worked her hips to match his pace.

“Phillip… Ooh, my…” She stiffened briefly, then began bucking crazily. Her inner walls grasped him harder, the rhythmic pulsing of her channel and pussy lips pushing Phil over the edge too. He thrust his hips against the cushion where her hips lay. The incredible tingling at the base of his spine zipped to his balls, which tightened so painfully he grunted, then the sensation flowed to the tip of his cock and he finally came with a low howl that had him humping the sofa so hard it shook.

She kept coming, her inner walls milking his fingers until, finally, she lay breathing heavily. “Hell,” she whispered. “I’ve never come that hard before—ever. Especially this way.”

“Well, I’d kneel here and cuddle,” he replied with a chuckle, “but sticky briefs are not very romantic, or comfortable.”

She raised up on one elbow and kissed him. “You’re incredible.”

“So are you, baby doll.”

He helped her stand, but she wobbled on weak legs. “See what you do to me?” she joked.

“Imagine what it’ll be like when we can make love the proper way.”

“Damn, Phillip. Now I want you all over again.”

He grinned, feeling powerful, then followed her into the cabin and to the bedroom, where he took out clean joggers and another pair of briefs while she rummaged for panties in her backpack. In the bathroom, he cleaned himself up, then donned his clothes, making sure the soiled ones were fully in the hamper. When he returned to the bedroom, Daffodil stood with her back to him, stooped over slightly to pull on her lacy underwear.

He gulped, hard. Incredible ass didn’t begin to describe Daffodil’s bottom. And those legs—fuck they were gorgeous sticks!

She realized he was watching her and quickly jerked her panties up. “You’re cheating,” she said.

“Didn’t mean too—but oh mama!”

Laughing, her face growing pink, she pulled on her bottoms and covered her breasts with her hands. “My top is on the sunporch.”

He motioned to her and they returned to the sunporch. He stoked the fire again as she put on her pajama top.

Once they were settled back on the sofa, the afghan drawn over them, she startled as a wind gust buffeted the windows, shaking the glass in their frames.

“It’s okay,” he soothed and hugged her tighter.

“I still want you,” she whispered. “How is that possible?”

“The same reason Luella and Bernadette gave you.”

“It sucks.”

He chuckled. “At times like this, yes, it does.”

“Did you enjoy the party?”

“I did,” he said, “but I enjoy being here with you more.”

“Trick or treat with the kids was fun.”

“Would you like to have children?”

She glanced at him sharply. “I’ve never really thought about it before. I mean, living the way I have, the last thing a sweetbutt wants is to have a kid, but now that I’m with you, I wouldn’t say no to the idea.” She looked thoughtful for a moment. “I could see myself living here with a little towhead running around the cabin and the yard.”

“Good,” he said, wriggling deeper into the sofa with her. “We’ll enjoy each other for a couple years, then talk about starting a family.”

“What do I do for that couple of years?” she asked.

“What do you mean?”

“Well, Bernadette has her writing career, Luella is the she-wolf who watches over the MC and community, handling everything from the MC’s money to groceries to making sure that a couple of the kids don’t get any peanut products in their food when they eat at the main house… Puppy is involved in helping Luella with all that she does, and many of the women have day jobs.” She blinked rapidly as a spear of light from the stove angled across her face. “Even Maeve has started a little business sewing custom-made clothing and offering alterations. I haven’t seen any of what she had made, but Bernadette says her mom is very talented and already has more orders from people in Rebellion than she can keep up with.” She sighed deeply. “I don’t have any skills, no talents, and I didn’t even finish school.”

“So get your GED, then enroll in one of the local colleges to study what interests you.”

His suggestion seemed to genuinely shock her. “Seriously?”

“Why not?” He studied her with a frown. “You’re very intelligent, learn quickly. And you’ve proven you can adapt to anything, even the data-entry job at the auditor’s office. How’d you get hired there?”

“Ezra called in a favor, I guess,” she replied glumly.

“But you still learned how to do the data entry, and from what Bernadette said, you worked quickly and efficiently.”

She nodded. “Yeah.”

“What things interest you?”

“I’m…not sure.”

“Well,” Phil said, “do you like computer stuff? Have you ever thought about working in the medical profession—”

“Oh, I could never work as a registered nurse or a doctor.” Her eyes grew huge.

He laughed. “There are other professions in the medical field such as medical records, transcribing a doctor’s notes or even something as simple as an LPN to start your path to being a registered nurse. If kids interest you, maybe teaching is the ticket.” He chucked her under the chin with his index finger. “Baby doll, the world is your oyster. You can do anything you want to do.”

“Bernadette says I have a lot of fashion sense, especially makeup,” Daffodil began, her eyes glowing with excitement. “Maybe I could go into cosmetology school?”

“There’s a beauty college in Wheeling.”

“Really?”

She said it so seriously, so awed, that he hugged her, chuckling. “Really.”

They talked for a long time, and as he grew sleepy and Daffodil’s remarks and questions became fewer and her body warmer as she relaxed against him, the first snowflakes of the season fluttered down past the windows. There might be a warm-up or two in the future, but snow meant one thing—winter had officially arrived.

 

Chapter Twenty

 

A hand moved up Bernadette’s thigh. She stirred, sighing, already exhausted from the thorough lovemaking sessions with Frank. He moved his palm up her belly to her breasts where he massaged each one, then flicked his hot, wet tongue over each nipple.

“Oh, babe…”

He sucked on her right nipple, drawing it into a hard bud. Damn him and how easily he could awaken her desire. So tired, and her pussy a little sore, she still couldn’t refuse Frank, didn’t want to refuse him. The only time she felt complete was when they were joined as one. And oh, how he made her feel, his cock stretching her as he thrust over and over…

He let go and switched to her left nipple, then back to the right one, then again the left, this time sucking it in so hard and long that the pleasure-pain skewered to her core. She arched, wanting more, needing him to slide his cock into her.

Settling his big, heavy body between her legs, she sighed again, spreading her thighs farther to give him easy access, then opened her eyes.

Red ones stared back at her. His golden hair caught the illumination from the hurricane lamp in the corner, giving his head a halo effect. He grinned down at her, revealing long, sharp fangs.

“You’re mine,” he whispered, his words slightly guttural, “and so is my Russian beauty. Both of you belong to me now, and you can’t do anything about it.”

She clamped her legs together—or tried to—but with the incubus wedged between her thighs, all she could do was try to slide them under him and simultaneously attempt to wriggle away up the mattress. As she struggled, a scream formed low in her throat and rushed up and out of her mouth with such intensity it shocked her. She followed the scream with “Frank!”

The bathroom door burst open and Frank, in only his briefs, rushed out.

Bernadette beat on the incubus’ shoulders. “Get off me!”

Frank leaped to the bed, reached for the incubus and fell on top of Bernadette. The covers collapsed, the weight suddenly gone from Bernadette’s body to be replaced by Frank’s bulk crossways over her belly. “Where the fuck did he go?” he shouted.

Bernadette began sobbing, her heart flailing so hard she thought it might suddenly cease to beat.

“I gotcha, baby,” Frank said and rolled to lie next to her. “I’m here. Did he hurt you?”

“N-no, but he tried.” Even through her fear and sobbing, the reason Ezra had visited her came to her with clarity. “Oh no! Frank, he came to me…to draw strength, magic. He’s on his way…to take Daffodil from Phil. We have to warn them, bring them here.”

Thumping on the door startled them both.

“Frank?” Beastman called. “You okay in there?”

“I’ll be out in a minute,” he hollered. “Go around the house and make sure no one else has had any trouble with those…those demon things!”

“Aw, fuck,” Beastman grumbled through the door. “I was sleeping so good too. If I find any of those fucking things, I’ll rip their arms off and stuff them up their asses.”

Bernadette snorted in amusement, her fear finally beginning to evaporate, but it left her slightly dizzy and drained.

A softer rap followed. “Is Bernadette all right?” Luella asked.

“I’m okay, Luella. Let me get dressed and I’ll be out.”

“Okay, honey,” the she-wolf mumbled just loud enough they heard her. “I swear, you scared the living hell out of me with that scream.”

“Can you call Phil?” Bernadette asked Frank. “Warn him?”

“He’s been turning his cell off a lot lately,” he replied. With trembling fingers, he smoothed her hair out of her eyes. “I don’t blame him for wanting solitude with his mate-to-be, but it makes it difficult to reach him when I need my second-in-command.”

* * *

 

“Then we’ll have to drive over to his cabin,” Bernadette stated and sat up. “If we can get there before Ezra locates the cabin—if he hasn’t already done so—then Phil and Daffodil will have a chance at fighting him.”

“You did cast the protection spell that Scary Mary gave you, right?”

“Yes, but I think this brand”—she held out her wrist, the burn still glowing faintly—“negates the ward. The connection to me is direct, so he can bypass any protection spells I set.”

“Fuck.” Frank rolled onto his back and threaded his fingers through the front of his hair. “How do we defeat something like this, babe?”

“I don’t know.” She gathered clean panties, yoga pants, a long-sleeved black shirt with I write better than I talk stamped on the front of it in white lettering, a bra, and finally, her snow boots from the corner by the closet.

“How can you not know?” he questioned, exasperated. “You’re the apprentice of a well-known witch for fuck’s sake!”

“Hey!” She spun, naked, and faced him lying on the bed. “Mary has never handled anything like this before either. I’m winging it as I go along!”

He threw his arms over his face and mumbled, “Great. That’s so comforting.”

“Frank!”

He sighed, the sound big and gusty. “I’m sorry, babe. Really. I’m just in unfamiliar, fucking-weird-as-hell territory.”

She sat on the edge of the bed and tugged her socks on. “That description fits all of us in this house.” She turned and swatted him on the thigh. “Hurry and dress. I want to be over to Phil’s place as soon as possible. The longer we discuss this, the worse the feeling they’re in danger is getting, and I’m so wired with power right now it’s scaring me.”

“Right,” he said and jumped out of bed. “Be right behind you.”

Downstairs, Bernadette found Luella and Beastman in the kitchen. She’d barely accepted a travel mug of coffee from Luella when Frank entered behind her, stuffing his arms into a heavy flannel shirt.

“Everyone is okay, Boss,” Beastman announced, “although Tom was pissed as hell at me for waking him. He’s hungover—big-time.”

“What happened?” Luella asked, her baby blues huge and worried.

Patting her shoulder, Bernadette quickly explained, leaving the sexual details out of her story. “Found him wedged between my thighs, telling me Daffodil and I belong to him.”

A growl emanated from Beastman. “We’ve got to vanquish this thing—things!”

“Let me grab my sneakers,” Luella said. “Beastman, put on some clothes. We’re going with them to Phil’s. I don’t know what we’ll be able to do to help them, but at least we can try.”

Tingling assailed his arm. Phil shifted in an attempt to push Daffodil off it so the blood could flow freely again, but he couldn’t seem to move it.

Wood popped in the stove, rousing him further, and he managed to finally pull his arm from between Daffodil’s shoulders and the upper couch cushions. She murmured in her sleep. Slowly, so he wouldn’t disturb her, he scooted to the edge of the sofa—and froze. The silhouette of a man’s figure loomed in the corner behind the woodstove. Three more outlines, these ones smaller and feminine, stood behind the first, bigger form.

“Who’s there?” he whispered.

“Now wouldn’t you like to know,” a smooth, male voice responded. Red eyes appeared, their intensity similar to the coals in the stove.

“I know who you are.” A mix of fear and anger raced through Phil. “Ezra Smith.”

“One of many of my names,” the silhouette replied.

Standing, Phil kept himself between the dark forms and Daffodil. “You’re not welcome here.”

Ezra said nothing. Neither did he step forward into the feeble light spilling through the doorway from the living room. The feminine shapes moved slightly, as though they were waiting for something. Snow beat against the panes and melted on the warm surface to slide down the glass.

“Leave,” Phil ordered.

“What’s wrong…?” Daffodil sat up behind Phil. “Phillip? What’s…?” She gasped.

“Hello, my sweet,” Ezra said, still remaining in the shadows. “I’ve missed you.”

“I’m not going back to the MC, Ezra,” she said with vehemence. “You can go ahead and kill me. I’ll never be used by you again.”

“Ah, so sad that you say that,” Ezra replied, his voice calm, tone even. “But I’m afraid I’ve become addicted to your power. It fuels me so well.”

“My power?”

Phil frowned. What was Ezra—wait. He remembered what Daffodil had said about taking Bernadette’s hands. Could Daffodil have abilities too?

Rustling alerted him that she’d risen behind him. Gentle hands settled on his hips, and Daffodil’s body heat radiated into his back.

“You were told to leave,” Phil said, ready to battle the fiend.

The females behind Ezra giggled and tittered as though they had a secret.

“I will go once my other little human battery arrives,” Ezra replied. “I’m sure she’ll be here any moment.”

Daffodil gasped softly, then whispered, “Bernadette.”

Everything suddenly made sense. These creatures were drawing not only sexual energy from their victims, but Ezra, in whatever form he took, was also siphoning the magic from Daffodil and Bernadette.

Headlights appeared through the windows, the beams sweeping into the driveway, followed by another set of lights behind the first. Two trucks slid to a halt below them.

“Ah, she’s finally arrived.”

The self-assured manner with which Ezra spoke pissed Phil off. “Look, you son of a bitch, you’re not touching either woman. You’re trespassing—now leave!”

Laughter rumbled out of Ezra, and Phil recognized it as the same laugh he’d heard at the MC earlier that night.

“You have no power, mortal. You have no magic to defeat me.”

Anger sluiced through Phil’s veins. His inner beast rose, desperate to slay the incubus, desiring to shred him limb from limb, leaving him a bloody heap of limbs and internal organs on the floor, then it would be the succubi’s turn and he’d rip them to pieces too.

“You’re weak,” Ezra stated, “useless and pitiful. You’re a meat puppet that my succubi will feed upon.”

Phil let his beast take control. Tingling rippled across his body. The pain of the metamorphosis almost dropped him to his knees, but he focused on the thought that once he’d shifted, he’d be a hell of a lot more powerful than Ezra ever expected. The chatter of his friends approaching the porch reached him. It sounded like Frank and Beastman. Good. They could help him kill this worthless piece of shit and his bimbo she-demons.

The door had been locked earlier, but Beastman knew where the spare was kept and easily let everyone inside.

“Phil?” Frank hollered.

“Daffodil,” Luella called.

“On the sunporch,” Daffodil answered, “but Ezra has found us.”

Unable to respond, Phil issued a low, pain-filled groan.

The moment Bernadette appeared in the doorway next to Frank, Ezra surged out of the shadows. Stunned by Ezra’s ghastly appearance, Phil used the surprise to propel his transformation. There was no way he’d let Ezra hurt anyone else, especially not Bernadette or his Daffodil.

 

* * *

 

The monstrous appearance of Ezra in his true form forced a cry from Daffodil. Although humanoid, his leathery, brick-red skin, extra-long, extra-jointed fingers and toes tipped in shiny claws, his bald head, pointed ears and fangs presented him as an unholy aberration. The realization that this…this thing, this demonic freak had used her body urged bile up her throat. She lunged toward a wastebasket by the end table and vomited in it until nothing she’d eaten or drank at the party remained in her belly.

Bernadette gasped and shrank away as Frank moved between his mate and Ezra.

“What the fuck?” Beastman snapped. “Who the hell let the Exorcist in here?”

“The Exorcist was the priest, you idiot,” Luella snapped back at her mate.

“Whatever that thing is,” Beastman replied and pushed out onto the sunporch, “it’s an abomination.”

“Oh, it’s the big, burly one.” The sexy voice belonged to one of the succubi who stepped into the light to stand next to Ezra. “We can feed on him longer than the others,” she cooed.

Daffodil recognized her as the sweetbutt called Erica, the one she instinctively disliked, and now she knew why. One called Kiki moved away from the corner too, followed by the smallest of the three, Chloe. All three had been at the last two sweetbutt nights she’d witnessed at Frank’s MC as well as tonight’s party in their sexy devil-women costumes.

“You’re the ones who murdered Tony and Ass Crack,” Frank snarled, his face thunderous.

The sinister tone of his voice pushed a shiver down Daffodil’s spine.

The she-demons tittered and hung on one another, kissing each other on the mouths and fondling one another’s breasts.

“Oh, give me a break, you stupid hell sluts!” Luella pushed between her mate and Frank, unholstered a massive revolver from behind her back, leveled it at the devil women and began firing.

The succubi screamed and howled, the sounds deafening. The thwap-thwap of the projectiles hitting their bodies gave Daffodil a sense of satisfaction. Luella continued pumping bullets into the females until all three fell backward together through the plate glass behind the stove. The shatter of glass proved almost as loud as the gun. The howls and shrieks of the she-demons rose from somewhere in the driveway.

“Piss with my clan,” Luella snarled, “and my.44 will pump your asses full of lead.” She moved over to Beastman. “I’m out of bullets, baby.” She sounded disappointed.

Daffodil, her ears ringing with the numerous reports, staggered against the wall. She caught Bernadette’s gaze, and something between them connected, the power raw, primal. They nodded to each other, Daffodil sensing what she might have to do and somehow knowing that Bernadette was aware of it too.

The sound of rending fabric drew Daffodil’s attention back to Phillip. Fur now covered his body, and his joggers hung around his hips in thin strings.

“My, my,” Ezra stated. “It appears you’re not what I thought at all.”

Bernadette leaped over the arm of the sofa to land in the center of it, then jumped off to stand next to Daffodil.

“Aw, good,” Ezra went on. “My Russian beauty and my sexy, redheaded witch are friends. That will make it much easier for me when I take them home.”

“Are you all right?” Bernadette asked Daffodil.

“Yeah.”

“You know we have to work together to vanquish Ezra, right?” Bernadette said, her gaze brimming with magic.

“I know. And I understand. I don’t know how I understand, but I do.” Her voice trembled. Hell, her legs were vibrating like tuning forks. “How do we do it?”

Bernadette shook her head, her face a mask of worry. “I’ve no idea. We’ll probably know when the moment is right, but Ezra is frightened,” Bernadette whispered. “I hear it in his voice. He wasn’t expecting lycanthropes, which are extremely powerful.”

Although Daffodil had never witnessed Phillip’s change before, she knew what was happening, having seen some of the River Rebels shift.

“I will enjoy fucking them as I suck their magic dry,” Ezra continued rambling.

Growls emanated from Frank, Beastman and Phil. Soon Luella’s growls melded with theirs.

“But, in order to continue using them as batteries, I won’t fuck them to death.” He drew in an excited breath and stepped more fully into the light, sporting a huge erection.

“Ew,” Bernadette whispered. “Porn from hell was not what I had in mind for tonight.”

Giggles burst from Daffodil. Her mirth built and swirled through her until she was laughing so hard she had to lean against the wall for support. Bernadette started chuckling too. The more Daffodil laughed, the more Bernadette giggled too. An unknown force awakened in Daffodil born of friendship and of a new life, but most of all born of her newfound freedom. She threaded her fingers together with Bernadette’s, who turned, facing the room, keeping their hands clasped between them. The magic sparked between them. Somehow Bernadette was channeling her ability into Daffodil and vice versa.

“Stop laughing at me,” Ezra shrieked, his eyes flame-red. “Bitches!”

Phillip lunged at Ezra, bearing him back against the pot-bellied stove and knocking the smoke pipe free. Ashes rained down on them, then bloomed black and thick in the air. Coughing and hacking burst from everyone on that side of the room, and Phillip’s snarls turned ravenous. A strange shimmer of black ash roiling with flying snow blowing in through the broken window blended together in a flash of movement that suddenly had Ezra appearing in front of Daffodil and Bernadette.

Together, they jerked and stumbled back against the wall, knocking the sconces there to the floor.

“You’re both mine!” he screamed. “Mine!”

“How the hell did he get over there?” Beastman yelled.

Phillip scrambled to his feet and approached Ezra with stealth while the incubus had his back to him. Daffodil met her mate’s eyes, their glow bright amber in the dim room, and shook her head, once. Phillip hesitated, then took another step and another. She shook her head again, once, sternly this time. Phillip halted, a questioning light in his gaze. Again, she shook her head the one time.

“You’ve just called off your beast,” Ezra sneered. “Why?”

“I don’t want him to get hurt,” Daffodil lied effortlessly. Years of lying so easily with a deadpan expression earned her a satisfied smile from the devil.

“Wise decision, my sweet.” He reached out, his palm out, claws curling skyward. “It is time to leave. You know you have no choice. You both belong to me, and I intend to dine on both your powers tonight.”

Daffodil looked at Bernadette, who blinked once, slowly, to convey that she understood what needed to be done. Although Daffodil had no idea how she knew how to vanquish Ezra, the magic flowing through her whispered she was right, that it would all be over in a few seconds.

With Beastman, Luella and Frank all having given themselves over to their inner animals, the werewolves growled and gnashed their teeth, waiting for a signal to kill Ezra, but they wouldn’t have to. They wouldn’t get the chance.

Still laughing, Daffodil reached out with Bernadette’s hand still in hers. With their fingers threaded tightly together, and mirth and joy bubbling through their bodies, stoking their combined magics, they placed their hands into Ezra’s.

He closed his long fingers over theirs, the heat of his touch almost burning. “Finally. I win! Mine!”

The others howled low, menacingly. Outside, more shrieks erupted from the succubi in the driveway.

He let rip with a maniacal laughter, the same sound Daffodil hated whenever he’d fuck her until she was near death. But his laughter died abruptly. Snow whisked across the room, stirring Daffodil’s hair and tousling Bernadette’s ruddy locks. More power rode the gust, and an image of a big black woman with salt-and-pepper locs filled Daffodil’s mind.

 

Chapter Twenty-One

 

“We have help,” Bernadette whispered.

Ezra tried jerking them to his body, his erection bobbing against his belly, eyes like hellfire, but the fear that crossed his face revealed that he possessed a false victory.

Looking at Daffodil, Bernadette said, “Let Mary into your mind.”

She knew the instant her mentor connected with Daffodil. Laugher bubbled out of them again, and together, they sent their joy, their freedom and celebration of love and life directly into Ezra. He screamed and tried to release himself, but they held fast, transmitting more white light into him until his eyes rolled back and his body collapsed in on itself. Flames erupted from him, spiraling toward the ceiling, scorching it until plaster melted to drop and cool on the floor. With a flash of white-hot light, Ezra evaporated.

“Vanquished,” Bernadette announced. She grabbed Daffodil before she hit the floor and eased her over to the sofa, where Phil helped lay her on it.

“You girls did well,” Mary’s voice rang out in the room. “Now, if you don’t mind, I’m going back to bed.”

The wind receded, and snow fell softly past the windows again. Bernadette looked down at her inner wrist. The glowing brand faded, a ring of ash rose from it to hover over her skin, then a soft breeze blew it away.

 

* * *

 

A week later, Daffodil was helping Luella, Puppy and Bernadette bring Thanksgiving decorations down from the attic. They carried the last of the boxes into the dining room and set them down on the tables to sort through.

Frank walked in with a six-pack of Dos Equis in one hand.

“Are you sure you don’t want me going with you to Ass Crack’s funeral?” Bernadette asked.

He set the six-pack on a chair and strode over to her. “No, it’s a simple burial and his family just wanted those closest to him to be there.” He leaned down and kissed her firmly on the mouth. “Besides, you look like you’re up to your eyebrows in work right now. I’ll be back in a couple hours tops.”

Beastman poked his head in through the living room entrance. “I’m heading out with Frank, baby.”

Putting down a silk arrangement of autumn leaves, Luella gave her mate the once-over. “You look nice, honey.”

“I can clean up…once in a while.” He grinned, looking like the Cheshire cat. “Give me some sugar.”

Luella walked over and kissed him as he gripped her ass and hauled her tightly to his body.

Shaking her head, Daffodil asked, “What’s the Dos Equis for?”

The snort that came out of Frank punctuated his words. “Ass Crack, that damn gearhead, was always stealing my beer. Dos Equis is my fave, but every time I put a six-pack in the fridge, I might get two—if I was lucky.” He shrugged, his expression turning sheepish. “I thought I’d put a carton in his casket so he can take it home”—he pointed up—“with him, and also to let him know I miss him.”

“Oh.” Unexpected emotion welled in her eyes. “That’s so sweet.”

Obviously having embarrassed himself, Frank ducked his head, averting his gaze, kissed Bernadette one more time, then snatched the carton through its handle and exited the dining room. “Later, sweetheart!”

“Damn it, Frank,” Beastman grumbled loudly as he hurried through the living room, then the kitchen, “slow the fuck down. I’m riding with you, remember?”

The women all laughed.

“So,” Luella stated as she resumed sorting the box she’d started unpacking, “how are things with Phil?”

“Great.” After finding several beautiful candlesticks of rust-red, gold and black glass, Daffodil set them all out on a table and went in search of tapers to set in them. “He’s amazing and I love him very much. I’ve never had anyone support me—believe in me—like he does.”

“We’re all very happy for you,” Puppy said.

“I hear you’ve made a big decision,” Bernadette urged.

Heat suffused her face. “Well, it’s not big, but I guess it is to me.”

“Come on, tell us,” Luella coaxed, her eyes bright with interest.

“I’m enrolling in the Scott College of Cosmetology in Wheeling next semester,” Daffodil said. Excitement stormed through her every time she thought about her future with Phillip and having a career. “I can’t wait!”

The women all laughed, but their laughter was a mix of excitement for her and happiness.

“You know,” Bernadette said, “I don’t think we have a hairdresser in the community, nor a makeup artist—”

“Or a nail technician,” Puppy said, holding her hand out to examine her fingernails.

“Ladies, I think you’re right,” Luella joined in. “We all get freebie makeovers, right, Daffodil?”

They all giggled, and Daffodil threw lightweight plastic turkeys that fastened into a centerpiece at them.

“What’s with all the chickens cackling in there?” Phil stepped into the entrance. “Shit, should’ve known it was a bunch of women.”

“Hi, baby,” Daffodil greeted him shyly. She couldn’t get over the giddiness she always experienced in his presence.

“Can I steal her for a few minutes?”

Luella waved him away. “Go on. I’m about to sit for a spell anyway. Ladies, how about some coffee and a piece of pumpkin pie?”

They all filed into the kitchen chattering among themselves.

“I want a cup and a slice too,” Daffodil called after them. She let Phillip pull her into his arms. “What’s up?”

“The clinic called.” He beamed at her. “I wanted to give you the news before I went to the funeral. The nurse practitioner couldn’t give me details, but since you’ve been waiting so long for the test results, she said to simply tell you that you have absolutely nothing to worry about. However, if you wanted a blow-by-blow account of each test result for your own ears, you could call her when you got a moment.”

Relief swept through her. “Thank God.”

“So, does that mean we have a night of crazy-hot sex ahead of us?”

“Maaybeee,” she teased and poked him in the chest.

“Maybe, my ass.” He nuzzled her neck, and goose flesh rippled over her body.

“I love you.” Her heart swelled with emotion until she thought she’d burst from it.

“I love you,” he replied, gazing at her with sincerity. “I want you to be with me forever, Daffodil. Be my mate for life.”

“Yes,” she answered without hesitation. “I want that so much.”

He kissed her long, hard and thoroughly. Ravaging her mouth, he palmed her ass and molded her body to his. Desire coiled in her core, the warmth of it settling in her folds until that all-too-familiar throbbing began anew for him.

“Forever, baby,” he murmured once he broke the kiss. He stood forehead to forehead with her, his palms still planted firmly on her ass. “You’ve healed my soul.”

“No,” she replied softly, “you’ve healed mine.” She nestled her head in the crook of his neck. “With you, I’m home.”

 

* * *

 

That evening just before dark, Bernadette sat in the swing behind the house with Mary. She finished telling her everything that had transpired since vanquishing Ezra, and that when he was sent back to whatever realm he came from, his succubi had been vanquished too.

“First time I’ve encountered such creatures,” Mary stated. “Nasty critters, aren’t they?”

Nodding, Bernadette rocked slowly with her friend. The day had been warmer than usual, forcing everyone to shed coats and even a layer or two of winter clothing. The snow from Halloween night hadn’t lasted long, but the weather hinted at more of the white stuff due any day now.

“So what do you think is the source of Daffodil’s power?” Mary asked.

“I’m not sure. She doesn’t really want to talk about it, but says she’s not interested in witchcraft or anything tied to the craft, that she just wants to do what makes her happy and be with Phil.”

“I’d leave her be, then. Can’t force someone to face something they’re not ready for. Besides, from what you’ve told me, that child has been through enough.”

“That she has,” Bernadette said. “She’s become a good friend.”

Swinging quietly, they enjoyed the fair weather and the colors of the building sunset. Phil, Frank, Tractor and Beastman were cutting firewood and stacking it next to the outdoor furnace. Daffodil sat in a lawn chair, her colorful shawl around her, and smiled at her man as he worked. Luella wandered out with a tray bearing several mugs and walked over to the men, then to Daffodil where she joined her by rolling a log over for Luella to sit on.

“Do you think things will settle down now?” Bernadette asked.

The woman sucked air through her teeth. “Can’t say for sure. The runes are still giving me jumbled messages, but I’m guessing that’s because by vanquishing Ezra, the future is resetting.”

“I hope you’re right.”

“What about the human trafficking?” Mary asked.

“Deputy Williamscot says the next one in command will take over the River Rebels. Someone by the name of Stickman, I think. But the River Rebels are being watched very closely, so I doubt they’ll try anything, even drugs or guns, until they feel they can do so safely.”

“On a bright note, yesterday Frank received the energy rights monies, and several in the community said the insurance claims are being paid now, one by one.”

“That is good news!”

She sighed and closed her eyes as a chilly wind wafted up from the pond. “Frank wants to turn me.”

“Oh?”

She looked over at her mentor. “I’m on the fence, really. Part of me likes the idea of longevity, extra strength, heightened senses…but the pain of shifting is really hard on a turned werewolf.”

“Yes, that’s what I’ve been told too.”

“Then there’s the idea of having a part-human, part-lykoi family and I’m not sure if I want that, that maybe I should be turned so we’re all lycanthropes.”

“You must follow your heart, Bernadette.” Mary rummaged in her many skirt pockets and produced home-rolled clove cigarettes and a book of matches. “No one can choose for you. And there’s plenty of time to decide.”

“I just want everyone to be happy and no upset during the holidays. No more disturbances, supernatural-, paranormal- or one-percenter-related.” Bernadette patted Mary on one round knee. “Is that too much to ask?”

An amused snort was followed by a puff of clove-scented smoke. “You and me both, child. The future remains to be seen.”

 

About the Author

 

Ana Lee Kennedy loves writing stories steeped in lore, history, mythology, and her wicked sense of humor, although she is known to pen hot paranormal and contemporary stories too. She is currently writing the final novel in the Werewolves of Rebellion trilogy.

After many actual dreams of traveling the world, Ana Lee hopes to do so soon with her husband and young son, and their first stop will be England. When she’s not writing, she can be found in her flower gardens or at one of the local lakes playing with her son and their creepily intelligent Labrador retriever. She resides in the U.S. with her family, Sir Creepy Dog, two almost-as-smart felines, and a pair of pet ducks.

 

Other Riverdale Avenue Books By Ana Lee Kennedy

 

Nightshade’s Flame

Book One of The Werewolves of Rebellion

 

Seduced by the King

Volume One of the Valhalla Skies Saga

 

The Dragon God’s Kiss

Volume Two of the Valhalla Skies Saga

 

The Sorcerer King and the Fire Queen

 

Invasion of Her Heart:

Book One of the Lovers of the Galaxy Series

 

Bounty Hunters of the Heart:

Book Two of the Lovers of the Galaxy Series

 

Raiders of the Lost Heart:

Book Three of the Lovers of Galaxy Series

 

Wrapped Around Your Handlebars

 

 

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