ChapterOne
“You can’t sleep on the bar, buddy.”
Jason Flynn came awake to someone shoving his shoulder, his cheek pressed into the shiny wood surface of a bar that smelled vaguely of shoe polish. He lifted his head and wiped drool from the corner of his mouth under the judgmental scrutiny of a crusty and irritated bartender. “Sorry,” he mumbled. But, in fact, he wasn’t sorry at all. His impromptu nap was the best sleep he’d had in days. He held up his almost-empty scotch. “Another?”
“Maybe you should go home and sleep it off.” The older man had an exceptionally long face with a handlebar mustache that Jason thought would’ve fit in perfectly at any saloon in the Wild West. All he was missing was a ten-gallon hat. “How ’bout I call you a cab?”
“Don’t bother. I’ll take him home,” a female voice chimed in from behind him.
He squeezed his eyes shut against the surge of his wolf inside his body, a wolf that was starving for something Jason refused to feed him. Well, he’d tried to refuse him. In the months since they’d returned to Carlton City from Sable Creek, Wisconsin, he’d given in a few times. Compared to before Alex’s attack, however, he’d been practically celibate… other than the days around the full moon when his wolf was in control. The part of his soul that was his inner beast protested the forced abstinence by restlessly twisting and pressing against the underside of his skin until he itched. He cast a disappointed glance at his empty scotch before slowly swiveling on his barstool to face his latest temptation.
A petite blonde with a Fireborn pack tattoo waited behind him with a flirty smile. “Hey, stranger!” She yanked him into a hug.
He made the mistake of inhaling as their bodies connected, and the scent of carnations, lilies, and rum filled his nose. His wolf whimpered, half-crazed within the cage of his flesh. He’d been with her before, although he couldn’t immediately remember her name. The silky dress she wore skimmed every creamy curve. Damn, her body was a work of art. Refusing her might actually hurt.
“This isn’t your usual haunt, is it?” She nudged his knee with her hip.
“No.” This dive hadn’t been on his radar until recently. The dusty hole-in-the-wall that smelled of spilled beer and forgotten dreams served mostly men who sat every other stool and stared at the bar or vacantly into their discount liquor in total silence. It was a great place to catch some z’s. A horrible choice to pick up women. Which was the point. He’d come here to both numb his vice for sex and remove the temptation. “Yours either,” he mumbled.
She laughed, and he couldn’t tear his eyes away from her mouth. “I was coming from the club next door and noticed you in here all alone. I thought I’d better make sure you were okay.” Her perfectly manicured nails brushed his thigh. “So… are you okay? Sounds like you need a ride.”
While she spoke, he prodded his synapses, demanding they produce the woman’s name. She was a pack member, an acquaintance, and someone he was sure he’d slept with on one or two occasions. Buying time by sliding his empty glass toward the bartender, he was relieved when his addled brain kicked out an image of a moon over a tree. Flashing a practiced smile, he said, “Luna Hawthorne, are you trying to pick me up?”
She tilted her head to the side. “Seems like it.” Her gaze drifted over his wrinkled dress shirt and pants. “You look like you need a pick-me-up. Bad day?”
His jacket and tie were somewhere in the bar, collateral damage in the war he’d been waging with himself all night. Half-heartedly he ran a hand through his hair, then over the contours of his unshaven face, delivering a light laugh he didn’t really feel. “Not sure what you mean. Couldn’t be better.”
Her smile waned, and she moved closer until her body was between his open knees and every man in the place was glancing in their direction with varying degrees of jealousy twinkling in their eyes. “Is it your vice?” she whispered. “Because, like, I can help you with that if you want?”
Every cell in his body ached, and his mind sent him some delicious porn-worthy images of what he could do to her in the bathrooms in the back, how good it would feel, how it would alleviate the pain. But he’d made himself a promise, and he wasn’t ready to give up on it. Not yet.
“Not tonight, Luna.”
She tucked her chin, then released a giggle. “Wait, what?” She looked confused. “You’re turning me down? Have you found a mate or something?”
He shook his head. What he’d found was that his vice for sex had put his pack at risk. His last lover, Nickelova, had secretly been a dragon fae—a fairy who drew power from a bloodline that included dragon’s blood. Unbeknownst to him, Nickie had been working with pack nemesis Alex Bloodright. Sleeping with her had allowed her an open door into their lives, access to his sister Laina and his alpha brother Silas. Once there, she’d magically circumvented all their defenses and manipulated them into a showdown with Alex, who’d challenged Silas for pack alpha. If Laina’s mate hadn’t had a fairy protector and been a dormant werewolf himself, the three of them would probably be dead. All because Jason couldn’t keep it in his pants.
Afterward, Jason had sworn he’d give up his vice. His need for sex had become a liability, and he was unwilling to be a slave to it any longer. Only, his wolf wasn’t on board with the plan and had made things like eating, sleeping, and simply existing without pain almost impossible.
“No mate.” He bristled at the way her hand lifted to touch her chest, as if she was taking the rejection personally. “Believe me, I am tempted, Luna.” He released a shaky breath. “Badly tempted.”
Her brows knit, and those nails landed on his thighs again, giving them a little squeeze. “What’s going on?”
“Nothing.” He sliced his head to the right.
“Definitely not nothing.” She laughed. “You turning down no-strings-attached sex is a reason to buy a fur-lined coffin because hell has definitely frozen over.”
He bristled at that. It was true he had a certain reputation for being a playboy but only because his wolf needed the outlet to control the feral rage that bubbled just under the surface. The sex was a Band-Aid to keep from bleeding out and his wolf from doing something he’d regret. He didn’t have that bandage right now, and his entire being felt like an open wound, one she was digging into without even knowing it.
“How long have we known each other, Luna?” Jason propped his elbow on the bar and leaned his head against his fist, exhaustion weighing on him like a lead coat.
“Two years.”
“And we’ve… gotten together a few times before.”
Luna bit her bottom lip. “Occasionally.”
“And we’re friends. Pack mates.” His wolf was chuffing, adrenaline flowing through him at the possibility of having her.
