Chapter One
I sighed heavilyas I stared down into my drink. How in the hell did I end up here, just a few days before Yule, hiding from my family?
Oh yeah, my aunt Fenella's rabid attempts to "find me a man".
It began as soon as my parents and I arrived at her house in Dallas. Every December, my mother and her sisters took turns hosting the Yule celebration. This time it was Fenella's turn.
Being a witch from a good family and coven, and almost twenty-nine, my aunt decided it was high time I settled down with a nice young warlock.
Unfortunately, the warlocks she introduced to me were the same. Boring, bland, and attractive in a slightly anemic way. They were all good-looking and well mannered, but clearly cut from the same cloth. The nice guy cloth.
I couldn't exactly tell Fenella this, but I liked men with an edge. I know. I know. The stupid bad boy cliché, but there's a reason it became a cliché. Also, I didn't necessarily want a bad boy, but I also didn't want an average Joe either.
What was so wrong about wanting to find a man who made my heart beat a little faster and made me feel a little more alive?
I wasn't asking for much. He didn't have to be movie star handsome or rich. I'd settle for someone with a decent sense of humor and a job. However, all the men Fenella introduced me to seem to have personalities cut from the same beige cloth.
With another sigh, I sipped my drink. I'd ordered some Christmas special from a chalkboard hanging above the liquor shelves. It wasn't bad. It was spiced punch with a healthy dollop of some sort of strong liquor. Probably moonshine.
I glanced around the almost empty bar. The lighting was dim and a couple of pool tables were near the back of the large room. Two older men sat at the end of the bar, drinking their beers in companionable silence.
It was the perfect place to escape from my aunt's obsessive matchmaking.
I heard the front door open behind me and glanced up at the mirror behind the old-fashioned bar.
Time stopped.
There was no other way to describe it. As soon as my eyes locked on the man making his way across the room, nothing else existed.
His dark brown hair was shaggy and a good month past needing a cut. Even windblown and wild, it suited him. His face was arresting. He wasn't traditionally handsome. His nose was crooked and his mouth was thin, but I couldn't tear my eyes away. My gaze wandered down his body, taking in the flannel shirt and faded jeans that clung to his thighs as he walked.
I'd never experienced anything like this.
The pull toward him was so strong it was all I could do not to walk over and touch him. It was frightening.
My mouth went dry as he kept striding straight toward the bar. Eyes moving back up his body, I sucked in a sharp breath when I saw he was looking back at me in the mirror.
Heat flooded my cheeks and I quickly adjusted my stare back down to my drink. I knew without looking in the mirror my face was bright red. He caught me gawking at him.
I tried not to react as he pulled out the stool next to mine and settled on it. Deliberately keeping my eyes lowered, I took another sip of my drink while seriously considering chugging it and getting the hell out of there as quickly as possible.
The bartender moved in front of us and set a bottle of beer in front of the man with a thud.
I jumped a little as the sound jerked me out of my plans to run for the hills. That's when I felt it. The buzz of power. It ran along my flesh like a breeze and all the hair on my arms and neck stood on end.
The man seated next to me wasn't human and he was powerful.
As soon as I realized it, my mind was assailed by images of fur and fangs. He was a wolf. My head shot up and I looked over.
He was staring back at me.
I froze, my breath coming fast as my heart beat harder against my sternum. His eyes were incredibly beautiful with deep blue and amber striations in a starburst pattern radiating from his pupils. I couldn't tear my gaze away.
"Hey," he drawled. "I'm Blake."
His voice was deep, a little gravelly, and carried a hint of the South. My sister, Priscilla, called it a black-magic voice. With those three words, I knew I could listen to him read a phone book all night and never be bored.
"H-hey," I stuttered.
