Mace shook his head. “No one’s laughing.”
I blew out a long sigh, staring down at my hands where the gouges from my claws had already healed over. I hadn’t lost control of my shift like that since I was a teenager. This mate of ours was really throwing me for a spin.
My brother was looking at me, and I knew he saw too much. No one knew me like he did. He gripped my shoulderhard enough to bring me back to my senses. “Come out with us tonight. It’s Saturday night. I can guarantee you’ll have a good time.”
I shot him a look. “You cannot promise that. I don’t think I’ll have a good time ever again, not until I have my mate in my arms.”
My brother’s smile was sly, and I didn’t trust it at all. “Just say you’ll come, okay? I miss hanging out with you.” He gave me a little shake, and I softened.
I wouldn’t be where I was without Mace. For the past five years, since moving to this city, he’d been my family, my pride, my support system, and my biggest fan all rolled into one. I couldn’t help but feel like he’d been putting his own life on hold because he didn’t want to abandon me. I hated that I was holding him back. It was time for me to step up and claim my future, so that he could move on and find a mate of his own. I knew they were out there; I could see a hint of his fate every time I looked at him.
“Fine, I’ll come,” I sighed. “But don’t expect me to like it.”
Mace’s grin was all teeth, eyes flashing with mischief. “Wouldn’t dream of it.”
Icouldhearthepounding bass from outside, even over the rumble of Mace’s custom cherry-red ’69 Camaro as he pulled into a parking spot. I pinched the bridge of my nose. I was pretty sure I felt a headache coming on, but my jaguar seemed quite eager to go out for once. He nudged at me with his cold, wet nose, quite the chilling sensation when coming from the inside of my head. “I’m going, I’m going,” I muttered, climbing out of the passenger seat. Thankfully Denver had driven over in his own car, because I still hadn’t forgiven him for implying he would make a move on my mate.
The lot was packed, and I had a hard time believing there were this many shifters in the city, but the club was exclusive to our kind, so I knew they weren’t human. It was “members only,” if you will, though if any humans tried to apply, they were rejected for any number of ridiculous made-up reasons. Hair of the Dog was the kind of place where shifters didn’t have to guard their animal natures quite so closely. They served liquor laced with wolfsbane to hit us harder, and nobody gave us a hard time about alittle peek of fur or feathers. It wasn’t exactly my scene, but I could understand the appeal.
We headed to the front of the red-brick building where the entrance was, guarded by the largest bouncer I’d ever seen. It probably had something to do with being a bear shifter. His umber skin glistened under the neon light of the sign, biceps flexing as he crossed his arms over his chest and glared down at us. “Can I see your membership cards, please?”
That was code; there were no such cards. Mace flashed his jaguar’s eyes at the bouncer, followed by Denver and a couple of our other friends, Seth and Mayer. I brought up the rear, but when I went to flash my eyes, I found my beast was already there, watching from the front seat.
Hey, back it up, buddy, I scolded him. We weren’t safe inside the club yet, and if any humans saw my eyes right now, it would be hard to pass them off as contacts.
The bouncer watched me struggle with my beast, the hint of an amused grin peeking from his otherwise stern face. “Keep it tame in there,” he told me, the line delivered like it was something he said to every patron, but in this case, it felt like a bit of a warning.
“Right,” I said, my return smile forced.
Stepping through the door was overwhelming at the best of times, what with the strobing lights and pulsingbeat of the music, the odor of so many shifters slamming into me all at once. This time, though…
“Shit,” I cursed, coming to an abrupt halt right there in the doorway.
The alluring scent that curled around me, front and center, was that of my mate. I quickly scanned the packed club, my eyes immediately locking on the only person here who mattered. Joel. He was standing on the other side of the counter, serving drinks. What the fuck? He worked here? I thought he worked at the café.
While I struggled to get a grip on myself, Mace came up beside me and slapped a hand on my shoulder. While I didn’t look away from Joel, I could feel my brother’s shit-eating grin. “Oh, did I forget to mention Joel worked here? My bad.” Suddenly his guarantee that I would have a good time made much more sense. “Why don’t you go grab us the first round of drinks?”
I nodded absently, but my legs were already carrying me across the bar—toward my mate and hopefully my future.
Chapter 8
Joel
WorkingatHairofthe Dog was truly anexperience, unlike any other job I’d ever worked. The music was deafening and Did. Not. Stop. for the entirety of my shift. I used to go home with a headache, but I’d learned early on to take a preventative painkiller before my shift started. I probably would’ve considered taking a shot of tequila or something to take the edge off, but my boss had warned me that their brand of liquor was especially strong for people like me. I guess he meant because I was small? I was tempted to try it anyway, but the way the fumes coming off it seared my nostrils, I figured he was probably right.
And then there was the clientele…
Considering it was Kedi who’d recommended me for the job, I’d thought I had a good idea about what to expect. I mean, his friends were pretty wild. But here? The kinkcommunity was alive and well at Hair of the Dog. It was kinda like those “furries” I’d overheard someone talking about on the bus that one time (I wasn’t here to kink shame, but I shouldnothave googled that one). These people didn’t go all in with the full-body suits, with the paws and the tails, but I’d seen a few of them with prosthetic teeth and even animal ears, and they did a lot of sniffing and nipping at each other. Most nights involved at least one person howling or barking. I did my best to avert my eyes when things started to get a little feral on the dance floor. I was paid well enough that I wasn’t about to complain to my boss about it.
A paycheck was a paycheck.
“What can I get you?” I asked the beefy alpha bellying up to the counter.
His slow-spreading smile and short upturned nose had me picturing him as a prickly boar for some odd reason—and it was not in an “aw, such a cute little pig” kind of way. More like an “I heard you can dispose of a body by dumping it into a pigsty. They’ll eat anything” kind of way. Ick.
When he leaned across the counter, the waft of his overpowering cologne had my throat closing up instinctively. “How about your phone number, sweetie?”
It took everything I had not to make a face. “Sorry, no can do. Bar policy. How about a beverage?”
