The corner of his mouth kicked up in a half smile. "What's your name, sugar?"
"Candela," I replied, my voice a bit cooler than before. Something about his smile and the easily tossed out term of endearment bugged me.
"Pretty."
I hummed slightly in the back of my throat in response, but didn't say anything else. Instead, I took another swallow of my drink and once again thought about leaving. I felt awkward because I had a bad feeling this werewolf thought I would be easy pickings because he caught me staring at him.
I flinched when I realized his face was close to my hair and he was breathing me in.
"What in the hell are you doing?" I asked, my voice vibrating with anger.
His head lifted, our faces a few inches apart. "What are you?" he growled, his pupils shrinking as he continued to sniff the air.
I barely repressed an eye roll. "What do you mean, what am I?" I asked. "What are you?"
He growled again and goose bumps broke out on my skin.
With a sigh, I shoved my stool back a bit so I could turn to face him. "I'm a witch," I answered quietly, crossing my arms over my chest. "Is that a problem?" I was trying to keep my voice down because, while the bar was nearly empty, people were still around. I didn't want them hearing this conversation and calling the nearest psych ward to come pick us up.
"Witch?" he repeated.
I nodded, lifting an eyebrow at him. While I hadn't met many shifters, the ones I had were a damn sight friendlier than he was.
Suddenly, his body relaxed and I realized how tense his muscles had been while we spoke, as though he were preparing for an attack. It was definitely time to go.
I twisted in my seat and met the bartender's eyes, pulling my wallet out of my purse as I did so. He immediately got the picture and went to the register to ring me up.
"Hey, look, I'm sorry, Candy. It just took me off guard. You don't have to leave."
Glancing over my shoulder at Blake, I shook my head. Not only had he scared me, but he also compounded the problem by calling me Candy.
"It's fine. I think it's time for me to get going anyway." That was complete bullshit, but I really didn't want to get into an argument with the wolf. Fenella's coven had just worked out an alliance with the pack in Dallas and I didn't want to be responsible for any sort of "diplomatic issues" between them.
His hand curved over mine. Because of that small touch, I held my breath. I noticed everything: the slight roughness of callouses on his fingertips, the latent strength behind his grip, and the heat of his skin against mine. His flesh was so hot it practically burned.
"Please don't leave." It sounded like a plea. His thumb swept over the back of my hand. "Stay and talk to me."
I paused, my eyebrows lifting. "Why?" I wasn't trying to be snarky or rude. I wanted an honest answer.
Blake seemed to understand that and released his hold on my hand. "It's been a rough week. It'd be nice to spend a little time talking to a pretty woman."
Something about his tone captured my attention. He sounded...grim. I let myself look at him, really look at him, for the first time. Behind the striking eyes and sculpted face, I could see pain.
Without thinking it through, I lowered my guard just a bit, and his emotions suddenly swamped me. He was sad, almost unbearably so, and lonely. My own heart ached as I felt what he did.
As a witch, one of my strengths was empathy. I could experience the feelings of others. I usually kept myself guarded, locked up tight to keep out the rollercoaster of emotions other people radiated. My mother said my ability to empathize was what made me the best healer in the coven.
And, to my surprise, I realized I wanted to help heal Blake.
