Why a cafe would be open at night is beyond me. Shouldn’t coffee places close after dark? It speaks of a business that doesn’t really know who or what it is. My opinion is confirmed when I arrive at the establishment. The wall outside is painted with a giant mural depicting an Occupy Wall Street protest. Inside, I find an arty, activist sort of place with a bulletin board covered in flyers advertising everything from social protest events to art openings and open mics.
I see my prey behind the counter. Her hair is in braids now that cascade over her shoulders and swing and shift with each movement. She wears a tight, cinnamon-colored crop top with a heart cut-out above her breasts in the style her roommate Madi likes to wear to torment Brick. The curves of her ass are clearly delineated in a tight pair of jeans.
I gnash my teeth, already wanting to wring her smug little neck for being as big a cocktease as her friend.
Unlike Madison, Aubrey doesn’t play act at fitting within a business world where she doesn’t belong. She seems very clearly at home in this wild, chaotic environment of the cafe.
According to her file, she’s majoring in Women’s Studies on the five or six-year plan because she’s putting herself through school with loans and her job here. My PI believes she may be angling for pre-law eventually based on her extracurricular activities and social activism, but it’s hard to tell.
The mere fact that this person is Madison Evans’ best friend speaks volumes. I’d suspected Madison was faking who she was, and this seems to confirm it.
She watches me survey the place, unwrapping a blow pop and sticking it in her mouth as I saunter forward.
Unlike Madi, she makes no polite pretense at being helpful. She doesn’t snap to attention when I walk to the counter. She doesn’t even take the damn blow pop from between those pillowed lips, just leans on her forearms, giving me an admittedly glorious view of her cleavage.
“Are you lost?” Her voice is whiskey on the rocks. Startlingly smooth.
But an even bigger surprise is her scent. It hits me, nearly knocking me backward. It has earthy tones, honey and nutmeg with hints of Egyptian spices. I fight the hold it has on me because it comes on like a full assault. Energy surges within my cells-sending forth a burst of power. It feels like the ferocity of a hunt combined with the release of four orgasms packed into one.
For a moment, I can’t think. All I can do is blink, continuing to drag in that dangerous aroma. To solve my dilemma, I stop breathing. I hold my inhale until my head clears, and then I let it slowly out.
“Why do you ask that?”
She sweeps her gaze up and down my body, and I realize what she sees. Even without the tie, I’m far too well-dressed for this place in my two thousand dollar Armani suit and nine hundred dollar shoes. I shake my cuff down over my Rolex.
She takes a long suck on the blow pop, and my dick jerks in my trousers, apparently jealous. She removes it with a popping sound. “You look lost.”
“I’ll take an espresso.”
She lifts up off her forearms but doesn’t scurry to make my drink. Like she thinks I have all the time in the world to stare at her staring at me. She gives a slow nod. “You look like an espresso man.”
My upper lip curls. “What does that mean?”
She lifts an elegant shoulder, turning away like she has better things to do. I can’t tell whether she’s making my drink or not. She moves around behind the counter, still in no apparent rush.
I try to control my rage-at least that’s what I think it is, except it’s so tinged with sexual tension, it almost renders me helpless.
It’s absurd to let a human’s scent affect me. She’s attractive, sure. But the farthest thing from my type. So far, I wouldn’t even fuck her as a one-off.
I’m not sure my dick agrees, though, so I drag my gaze away from her ass to scan the bulletin board behind the counter. This one isn’t covered in flyers, it’s packed with photos.
Lots of them feature the lovely barista Aubrey. Apparently, she’s been working here for years because in some of them, she appears young-still a teen.
And then my gaze snags on something interesting.
My wolf snarls with satisfaction. This is why my instincts told me to come here. Not because the human has a scent that makes me forget every woman I’ve ever had writhing beneath me. Not because she makes me want to break my hard rule of never, ever dallying with a human.
No. It’s exactly what I came here seeking.
A photo of Aubrey and Madison and an older woman with a shaved head holding Occupy Wall Street signs.
I knew she was a fraud!
I knew there was something off about Madison the moment I met her, and this proves it. Why would she take a job on Wall Street if she hates it? Supposedly to help pay her brother’s college tuition, but he got a scholarship, and she’s still at Moon Co, doing her best to wrap my alpha around her pinkie finger.
I know who she’s really working for. Her first month at Moon Co, Madison came into the office smelling like the Adalwulfs. She claimed she went into their building accidentally, but I don’t believe it.
And then there was the way Aiden Adal-fuck showed interest in her. He pretended to want to order her from the room, but it was a test to see what Brick would do. He knows the human is Brick’s weakness.
Worse are the rumors the Adalwulfs are circulating. I have spies embedded in their pack, and they report the seeress has a new prophecy.
The Blackthroat king has a weakness. She will destroy all he desires.
It might be bogus. The crone has been right before, but it would be Machiavellian, to plant a human near Brick to tempt him and then spread a fake rumor of a prophecy.
Whether or not the prophecy is true doesn’t matter. If the Blackthroat pack hears about the prophecy and learns about Brick’s obsession with his secretary, they’ll put two and two together. They’ll fear for their Alpha. The stronger will question his ability to lead us. The weaker might defect. Energized by a crack in our foundation, the Adalwulfs will rally to destroy us.
And if the prophecy is true…it could mean the beginning of the end. I have to stop it.
Madison Evans is part of a plot to bring Brick down. I know it. I just need proof.
Behind me, someone drops a dish and breaks it. “Sorry,” the guy yells as Aubrey’s head whips around. He stoops to pick up the pieces.
“Don’t worry about it. I’ll get it.” She finishes brewing my espresso and hands me the tiny, steaming cup, then abandons her post behind the counter to disappear in the back.
I down the shot of coffee, then walk around the counter, pretending to look for a napkin in case anyone sees me, and grab the photo off the board.
I pocket it as I walk out of the cafe.
Madison Evans, the jig is up. I’m onto you, and as soon as I figure out exactly what your game is and when the Adalwulfs hired you to play it, you’re going down.
Brick
Monday, I walk out of the elevator after getting my hair cut, and I catch a scent of a female that instantly puts me on edge.
My mother.
Like everything about her, it inspires conflict within me. The scent activates all the pleasure of my childhood memories. Of the female who loved me. Doted on me. Was my entire world one day a week.
I’ve had to deregulate that response to remind myself she’s a traitor. She killed my father and can’t be forgiven or trusted again.
Ever.
I look around but don’t see her. Did she just visit, or is she still here? Dammit, I knew she was going to use Madison to get to me.
“Where is she?” I snarl at Madison, who keeps her composure, as always.
“In the conference room.”
“Get rid of her.”
Madison hesitates, sliding a hand up the back of her neck like she’s considering.
Dammit. I don’t know what there is to consider. I give an order, and I expect it to be obeyed. I’m completely out of temper, as I always am when it comes to my mother.
Rather than deal with Madison’s insubordination, I march to the conference room to take care of the situation myself. I stand in the doorway. My mother is already on her feet, wringing her hands.
“Out.” I make it easy for both of us and use the alpha command in my voice.
Her feet move her toward the door even as her mouth starts up. “Brick I want to tell you about the night your father died. I didn’t know-“
“Silence.”
Again, alpha’s command renders her speechless. I step back to let her pass, but as soon as she’s out the door, that spontaneous impulse to obey me wears off, and she reaches for my arm.
“Brick, please can we just hash this out?”
“
Out of the building.” This time I make sure I use enough force in the wavelength of my voice to make it last.
She stumbles toward the elevators.
Dammit, if I don’t reach for her elbow to steady her. She’s still my mother.
The knife she stabbed me with the night she killed my father twists in my chest, delivering fresh pain. Especially when I catch the scent of her tears.
Trapped in her blue gaze, I find myself offering the only explanation I have. “I can’t.”
A tear tracks down her face, and she nods, squeezing my hand at her elbow before walking away.
I don’t move until she’s in the elevator, and it’s moving down, and then I round on Madison.
“Who do you work for?” I demand.
She stands for the dressing down, appropriately deferential, which does nothing to stop my tirade. “You, sir.”
I nod. “Do you make appointments for me you know I don’t want to take?”
“No, sir.”
Confounded at how she could do this to me, I drop the boss-assistant thing. “You know how I feel about her. Why would you blindside me like that?”
Madison pulls in a sharp breath, and a tear streaks down her face.
Fuck. It’s even worse than seeing my mom cry. Way worse. All the anger and aggression drops from my body.
And now I know for certain what she is to me. My mate. The scent of a mate’s tears has the ability to instantly lower a male’s testosterone levels. It’s nature’s safety mechanism to prevent violence in a shifter’s home. Alpha wolves are aggressive, jealous and protective, but one whiff of their mate’s tears, and they’re brought to their knees.
I shove my hands in my pockets, the need to soothe her becomes more important than anything else.
Now that I can think, I try to decode her actions. Madison has never acted against me before. She’s loyal, and she protects me and my time. What would make her screw me like this?
“Did she force you?”
Madi shakes her head.
I study her. Her posture is stiffened, prepared for my rebuke, but her expression is resolute. No, Madison thinks through every action she takes. She did this on purpose, knowing I would be this angry which means… I arrive at the answer. “You thought this was the best for me.”
She nods, sniffing.
I close my eyes in exasperation then open them again. “Madi, you had no right. You don’t know what she did.”
“You’re right.” She blinks rapidly to clear her eyes. “All I know is that you’re hurting as a result of your relationship with her, and she’s trying very hard to fix it.” Another tear streaks down her face. “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have let her in here. I won’t do it again.”
I cup the back of her head. Her tears are killing me. “Please don’t cry.”
“Am I fired?”
My chest constricts. The very idea of her not being in this office with me makes my wolf want to tear the building down. I force lightness into my voice. “You’re unfireable, remember?”
She gives a watery laugh.
“I’m sorry I yelled at you.”
“No, you don’t owe me an apology. I deserved it.”
“No one deserves my temper, especially not you.” I kiss her temple and thumb away the moisture under her eye. Tipping my head toward my office, I offer a small smile. “Make it up to me?”
I sense her relief that I turned it back to sex-the only place where we’re fully honest and unguarded with each other. She pushes off her desk, and I take her hand to lead her inside. I lock the door, and when I turn, she reaches for my belt, unlooping it from the buckle.
I watch, fascinated, as always, when she takes charge. I like when she gives to me. There are very few people in my life I trust enough to show up for me, and she’s quickly becoming one of them.
She unbuttons my pants and lowers to her knees. I groan when she releases my shaft and takes it into her mouth.
“You’re beautiful,” I murmur as she works her mouth up and down, sucking hard on the outstrokes, using her fist to trail behind her mouth, so it feels like my entire dick is engulfed, not just half.
She lifts her gaze to mine, holding it. Showing me she’s paying attention, that she’ll deliver everything I need, as she always does.
I brush the backs of my fingers across her cheek, stroke her hair back from her face and hold it taut behind her head.
She’s so lovely. So perfect. What am I going to do about her?
I can’t cut her loose, and I can’t have her. Every day, it’s killing me a little more. I’m keeping moon madness at bay with the sex, but I’m rapidly reaching the point when that won’t be enough. I’ll have to mark her or die.
“Madison,” I murmur on a sigh.
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