Pursued by a Werewolf (Mystic Isle, Book 4) (8 page)

Less than three steps down the hallway, Hunter was at her side. She knew it was him before he spoke thanks to her supersensitive hearing. They’d spent enough time together that she recognized the cadence of his heartbeat.

How sappy was that?

“Good class.”

“Thanks. Missed you yesterday.” She wanted to snatch the words back. But why should she. It was the truth.

A look of surprise stole across his handsome face. “You did?”

“What can I say? I like your smile.” And everything else…but she kept that thought carefully guarded.

He graced her with one of those killer smiles that sent butterflies through her stomach. Damn, he was potent. From the gentle wave of his dark hair, the glittering green eyes, straight down to his toes. The man had good looking feet. Who knew that was such a turn on?

“I’m meeting Maxim and Ceara for a late dinner. You coming?”

“Are your girlfriends coming?” Why had she asked that? She had no reason to be jealous. Like she’d told Pearl, Hunter wasn’t hers. She didn’t care if he slept with everyone on the island.

If only that was true.

So, she’d have to work on the not caring bit. And shutting up that little voice in the back of her mind.

“They offered. I wasn’t interested.”

Avery thought it best to remain silent. Otherwise she would sound like a bitch and she didn’t want him thinking that she cared one way or another. Her private struggles needed to remain just that. Private.

“Do you—” He paused.

She waited for him to finish. “What?” she asked when he didn’t continue. They hung a right down the wide central hall.

“Nevermind.”

As curious as she was about what he’d wanted to say, she wasn’t going to beg. “Where are you meeting your brother?”

“Club Daylight.”

Of course. If she didn’t know better, she’d think he was following her. Why did that thought make her a little giddy? She was supposed to be getting her drink, having a little one on one time with her battery operated boyfriend and forgetting about her plan to get Hunter to scratch her itch.

But when a group of rambunctious guys almost bowled her over and Hunter pulled her out of harm’s way, she was suddenly back in the daydream. Warm, safe, happy.

Her body immediately vetoed her heart.

She tightened her hand around the strap of her yoga bag. “Okay. I’m in.”

“I’m gonna hit the showers. See you in half an hour?”

He didn’t need a shower. He was perfect just as he was, but she kept that thought to herself.

She nodded and then headed for the Tiki bar, in search of a stiff drink. Cal was behind the bar, popping tops on a long line of beers. Another rowdy group of guys took up a couple of tables in the corner. They hit on the waitress and laughed when she swatted their hands away.

Avery shook her head at their antics and plopped onto the barstool. She watched Cal shake his head at the pretty brunette waitress and gather the beers on a tray, delivering them himself.

She smiled at his protectiveness. He reminded her of Hunter.

Her body was still on red alert thanks to that wickedly realistic fantasy. Squirming atop the seat, she studied the liquor bottles on the wall. If only that daydream had been real. If only he’d sweep her into his arms and touch her, drive her wild, make her feel so…complete.

Maybe she should renegotiate their deal. Would that work? Could she just walk up to him and say…what exactly? Let’s go back to my place? She sighed and rested her chin in her palm.

Renegotiating their deal wouldn’t stop other women from checking him out. It wouldn’t stop her ridiculous jealousy. About the only thing it would do was keep her from resorting to pleasuring herself. This was Mystic Isle! She should be able to find someone to rev her engine here. She shouldn’t have to go back to France unfulfilled and…itchy.

When Cal returned, he shot her a smile, but it wasn’t as bright as normal. He didn’t look well rested either, or as easy going as he usually did. Was the conversation she’d overheard the other night to blame?

“Cocktail?” he asked, both hands on the bar.

“Yes, please.”

He nodded and moved away to fix her drink. She watched his easy movements. He was totally at home behind the bar: making small talk with customers, mixing drinks, tidying the bar and the bottles on the glass shelves on the wall behind him.

Despite her feelings about relationships and destiny, she hated the idea that someone couldn’t be with the person they loved. It reminded her of her own love. Her own relationship and how she’d been denied that chance at forever. The ache in her heart was less these days but she doubted it’d ever fully go away. As it was, it felt like a mass of scar tissue in her chest. A strong reminder of what she’d had, what she’d lost and why it was better to have fun with no intentions of forever.

“Everything all right?” Cal asked as he placed a goblet in front of her. He looked at her with friendly concern.

“Yeah. Sure.”

He huffed out a short laugh. “You don’t sound too convinced of that.”

He really was good at his job. Just like a good bartender should, he got to know his customers, worked his way into their confidences and made them feel like a friend.

But she couldn’t tell him what was really bothering her, especially not after what she’d heard in the bushes the other night. He was obviously suffering and if anyone needed comforting it was him.

“I’m not. But I’ll get over it.”

“Time does that.” He didn’t sound so sure himself.

“One would think.” Time had created a blissful amount of space between now and her old life. But it had never really wiped away the memories. Sure, faces she’d once known as well as her own were now blurry, just vellum covered images in her mind’s eye. The betrayal didn’t sting as it once had. These days it was more like a sore muscle.

Making a concerted effort, she straightened and took a sip of her cocktail as he wiped down the counters. He kept one eye on the group of guys. Was he worried that they’d start trouble? Latham had a strict no violence policy and as an all-seeing god, he had no problem policing his island. It was like he was a magnet for any nefarious intention.

“How’ve you been?” she asked Cal.

“Good.” He put away the rag, washed his hands and then started polishing glasses. “That’s not entirely true,” he said without lifting his gaze from the highball in his hands. “I’ve been better.”

“Seems wrong, doesn’t it? To be surrounded by paradise and not be crazy happy?”

He did that huff laugh thing again. “That’s the problem, the crazy happiness. I had it. And now that it’s gone, it’s so fucking obvious.”

As if he came-to and realized where he was and that he was talking to a customer, he straightened and apologized.

She waved off his concern. “Don’t worry about me. I’ve heard far worse. And for the record, I know how you feel.”

Idly, she traced her finger around the rim of the glass, letting the soothing motion take her back in time. After a deep breath she met his gaze again.

“I honestly do. I know how you can have that one moment of pure, perfect bliss where you think everything is right with the world. Happiness was your cloak and you went to bed eagerly anticipating the sunrise the next morning. And then all of that comes crashing down. Worse, actually. The rug gets pulled out from under you first. The swift, hard fall knocks the wind right out of you. And as you’re lying there practically helpless, that’s when the shit hits the fan. And then you’re covered in it. And nothing is ever the same again. Not your heart. Nor your faith in humanity. Or even…love.”

There was a long moment of silence and Avery felt something wet on her cheek. She reached up and wiped away a tear, surprised that her tear ducts even worked after all this time. Thirty years ago, she’d cried herself to death.

“Fuck,” Cal uttered. “You sound like you need something stronger than that cocktail.” He reached onto the back shelf where Latham kept the best whiskey and pulled down an elaborate bottle.

The glass had a silver sheen to it, almost like an antique mirror. Black wire hugged the neck of the bottle in an ornate, almost lace-like, design. She knew from her years living with Valencia how expensive the bottle was. Likely thirty thousand US. But then, V liked the best.

Avery took a deep breath and sat up a little straighter. “It was a long time ago.”

He nodded in understanding as he poured a shot of the whiskey. “On the house,” he said and pushed the small glass toward her.

She eyed the lovely amber liquid. One shade darker and it would match Hunter’s eyes. Why couldn’t she stop thinking about him?

Maybe that was it. She couldn’t stop thinking of him. Couldn’t stop the gut reaction to two women coming onto him. Regardless of what she told herself, she hadn’t really stopped wanting him after she’d kissed him goodbye two solstices ago.

“The good news is, time does have a way of making things better. If you let yourself feel better,” she told him, staring into the small glass.

Her advice was the truth. Time had healed many of her wounds. But still, they held her back. Not the pain, but the memories. So the question was, was she ready to let herself feel better? To stop denying her desire? To try again at life and love?

A ruckus from the guys in the corner drew her attention and Cal went over to supervise. He was tall, lean, good looking. So were many of the men surrounding the corner tables. But she didn’t feel a single tingle. Didn’t have any desire to kiss them or let them touch her. Couldn’t imagine curling up in front of a bonfire with any of them.

And there was her answer.

She stared down at the whiskey again.

“You’re gonna have to drink it, doll. I can’t pour it back into the bottle,” Cal said.

Avery’s lips curved up and she reached for the shot glass. She lifted it to her lips and swallowed the shot whole. The whiskey was smooth and scalding at the same time, lighting a fire within her as it raced down her throat.

She didn’t have a lot to compare it to, but she could appreciate the easy blaze.

“I’ll have one of those.”

She recognized Hunter’s voice immediately. He settled onto the stool to her left and even though they weren’t touching, she felt like his big body was crowding her. Just like he had in the daydream.

His uniquely masculine scent enveloped her, clean and spicy, teasing her with memories of their previous encounters. His heat wrapped around her, warmed her left arm, soaking into her, through her.

Cal slid another shot glass of whiskey across the bar. From the corner of her eye, she watched Hunter toss it back.

“Done with your shower already?” she murmured, reaching for her goblet.

“I’m efficient.”

She nodded.

“Rough day?” he asked, turning toward her, elbow braced against the bar. Damn he was handsome. She found herself wanting to touch him, to lean into the circle of his arms and just…be.

“Not particularly. Just remembering the past.” She glanced over at Cal and found him polishing another carton of glassware. “Giving out some advice.”

“Is that what you were doing in the middle of class? Remembering the past?”

She couldn’t tell him what had really been going on in her head. No way.

“How long was I out of it?”

“About half a minute. Which, by the way seems like an eternity in some of those poses.”

She laughed and he joined in. He’d always been able to make her laugh, which was one of the things she liked the most about him. That, and when she stopped fighting her attraction, they got along so well. So easily. It’d been that way since the very first night.

“What advice do you have for me?”

She looked up from her goblet and turned to face him.

“You probably have better advice than me.”

“How do you figure that?” He flagged Cal down and asked for a beer.

“You’re older, for one. And you’re level headed.”

“Thanks…I think.” He gave her one of his trademark grins and her insides melted a little.

“How long until we meet Ceara and Maxim?”

“You make it sound like we’re going on a date,” he said with a teasing smile. Tipping his wrist up, he glanced at the silver timepiece. “Fifteen minutes.”

“Just enough time to finish our drinks.” She clicked her glass against his beer bottle and settled back onto her stool, enjoying the ease of being with him. She’d worry about everything else later.

CHAPTER EIGHT

Avery slid across the padded bench seat that wrapped around the small corner table. Ceara grinned at her as she scooted in from the other side. The heat lamps overhead warmed Avery’s skin like a warm summer’s day. This was one of her favorite places on the island. With the ceiling painted to look like the sky and special lights made to feel like the sun’s rays, it was the perfect place for young vampires to warm themselves.

“Good class today?” Ceara asked and Avery would swear there was a conspiratorial gleam in her lovely violet eyes.

“Pretty good,” she said and tried to ignore her body’s reaction to Hunter’s closeness. After a cocktail and that shot of whiskey, her resistance was at an all-time low.

It didn’t matter if she closed her eyes to shut him out. He was still there. Lurking behind her eyelids, smirking, pulling her into another daydream. And what her eyesight missed, other senses picked up. She couldn’t hide from the delicious masculine scent of him. In fact, she’d bet her next glass of wine that he washed with one of those new pheromone body washes that drove women wild.

 Nor did she miss the heat radiating off of him. He was warmer than the heat lamps.

“I'm perfecting
downward dog
,” he said cheerfully.

Maxim groaned. “I still don't understand why you're taking such a girly sport.”

From the corner of her eye she saw Hunter give his brother that thousand megawatt smile as he braced his muscular arms against the table. “Come to class with me tomorrow and you'll understand.”

“I might have an objection to that,” Ceara piped up but quickly turned toward Avery. “No offense.”