Sixpence & Whiskey (3 page)

“Not ’til May. A lot can happen in that amount of time, Sy. Especially with Jack back in town.”

Her eyes widen.

“C’mon, he wouldn’t actually hurt you.”

I raise an eyebrow because what else did Jack target my magic for, if not some diabolical bullshit? Not that I’ve ever known his endgame. My mom had her suspicions, I think, but she never let me in on the details.

Syana puts a hand to her throat, her eyes narrowing at my expression. “I’ll kill him.”

“You’ll stay the hell away from him. Jack Frost is way more than you can handle, GI Jane.” I’m not teasing. Sy’s a bit cray-cray. She’s been hanging with me a long while, but she only figured out the truth of my life about five years ago. I use subterfuge like a boss and that—along with the amount of drinking we were prone to back in the day—had let me get away with a lot. Then a few werewolves crashed my twenty-first birthday bash, and one tried to eat her alive. So, that kind of let the cat out of the bag. Or the wolf.

Whatever. I hate werewolves. Most of them. After that memorable episode, Syana decided that while the whole FTC thing was kinda cool, it was also a lot scary (duh). She doesn’t like being scared, so she got prepared. And
how
.

Sy’s a black belt in karate now, among other things I can’t really pronounce, and has an arsenal of guns with all kinds of weird numerical and Russian names. All of which would do about fuck all against Jack. She’s tried to force her kung fu ways on me, but the patience I have not, young Grasshopper.

She even joined the National Guard awhile back, a move that scared the shit out of me, but she loves it.

Shaking my head at her mulish look, I finish my coffee and toss it in the trash. “I gotta get to work.”

Her eyes get that look again. Jack being back in town is freaking me out way more than I can let on, even to myself. And Sy knows it.

“You want me come to T&T after my shift?” she asks.

We both know the answer to that, but I shrug. “Well, you know, if you’re in the mood.”

Sy laughs and blows me a kiss with a little bump and grind shimmy that has two of the late-morning customers blinking and straightening in their seats. Sy doesn’t have much ass, but what she has, she uses to great advantage. “Darling,” she purrs. “I am forever in the mood for you.”

One of the guys chokes on his coffee. Sy winks at me and I can’t help but laugh as I head out.

Men.

They’re too fucking easy.

Well, most of them, anyway.
 

I head back uptown, park my bubblegum pink Fiat in the alley and open my bar. 

Actually, Toil & Trouble is a bar-slash-Laundromat-slash-tattoo parlor. Jett owns the tattoo part, because needles…
.ewww
. I like my skin just as it is, thanks. Unperforated.

I’m not surprised to find the door locked. In fact, I’d be shocked if my sis were here already. She likes to roll out of bed around noon.

Like Toby Keith, I love my bar. Making this place work is something I’m damn proud of. We have a real jukebox that takes quarters only; no fucking dollars or cards, just quarters, as God intended. And we have the best music this side of rock-and-roll heaven, because I custom loaded the tunes right. It’s a two-story building, tucked between Superior and Michigan Streets, one of the oldest ones in downtown Duluth.

The laundry area is in the back, over which is an open-air loft with four pool tables, an air hockey table and a foosball table. It’s business savvy to be retro these days. We attract a lot of the UMD crowd, but, while it might look it at first glance, this isn’t just some hipster bar. A good deal of my clientele is rough around the edges, FTC and human alike.

My boots squeak on the hardwood floors as I head to my office down the hall behind the bar. I snag a bottle of Jameson’s on the way.

Yeah, I love alcohol, maybe a little too much. I love the way it tastes going down, the burn in my throat, the warmth in my belly. Hell, even the way the bottles look lined up in glittering rows behind the bar, jewel-like tones bright in the morning light. I love the way it smooths the rough edges, but even more, I love the way it doesn’t. It makes everything inside me that much more raw. It’s not so much that the walls come down—it’s that they don’t matter anymore.

That’s what I crave. Because unlike my sisters, things matter too much to me. They always have.

I kick open the door that always sticks, intent on having a little alone time to contemplate the last twenty-four hours.

Turns out my office is already occupied.

5

Another
bear. Holy horned one
, why me
? Georg’s second, Stephen, is in my chair. And he’s got his fucking boots on my desk.

I’ve known Stephen almost as long as Georg, but it’s been over a year since we were face to face.

The night of Georg’s proposal, in fact. I haven’t seen any of the guys since then.

Bears aren’t exactly pack animals, like wolves. (Thank god for enormous favors). They don’t live in large numbers, couldn’t even if they wanted to—and believe me, they don’t want to. The Den generally houses no more than three to six male bruins at a time and maybe half that many females. Only rarely do they see cubs. Bruins don’t breed often or well—sad for them, great for the world as a whole.

Part of the reason I think Georg is so obsessed with the idea of me as his queen is that, as a witch, he thinks I’ll be more fertile or something. Get past that little hump,
har har
. Which, to be honest, is definitely within the realm of my magic, if I were so inclined. Fertility stuff comes easy to me, and I have a green thumb like you wouldn’t believe.

But as previously stated, I am
not
so inclined.

Being king of North America, and effectively South America, which only has one species of bruin, Georg Kivistö is the law unto his kind on this continent. He’s descended from the bear shifters of Russia and is the third of his family to be king here. There’s a reason for that. He may have a soft spot where I’m concerned, but make no mistake, Georg Kivistö is no fucking teddy bear.

Neither is his second. Stephen Krueger. Shaggy, black hair. A heavy, but well-trimmed beard (I know, I know, but they’re bears, all that hair is kind of a thing). And very unusually for his kind—blue eyes, startling in all that darkness.

He watches me give him a once-over, giving me right one back, a frown slowly creasing his brow.

“What?” I huff in exasperation. “See anything green?”

Stephen eyes me again. “Nah, it’s just—you’re cute and all, Seph—but I don’t see what Georg does. Your sister is
smoking,
though,” he ponders.

I ponder setting his ass on fire to get it out of my spot, then decide it’s not fair to take Georg’s bull out of Stephen’s hide. Damn my sense of fairness anyway.

“You mean the sister that kicked your bruin ass?” I say with a half grin.

He bristles. “She didn’t exactly kick—”

I roll my eyes and shove his massive legs off my desk with a grunt. “Whatever. I don’t care. Unless you’re here to re-attempt kidnapping for your not-so-noble leader, which I might add would be a seriously bad idea, get lost.”

“Where’s Kivistö?”

I shrug, feeling slightly uneasy that he doesn’t know but brushing it off. No way that fall actually hurt Georg. Bears
can
fucking swim. I should know. I’ve been skinny dipping with Georg more than once. The man practically has gills. He’s just off somewhere licking his metaphorical wounds. “No idea. What’s the matter, your mind mojo off-line or something?”

Like all shifters, bears can communicate through a rudimentary type of telepathy that’s heavy on emotions and visuals.

“He’s not picking up.”

“Maybe he wants to be left alone then, Stephen.”

He scowls. “He’s the king, he’s not allowed to be left alone. Would your sister know anything?”

“She didn’t touch him.” At least I’m pretty sure.

“She wouldn’t have to. Ajax and Dominic are still recuperating from tangling with her.”

My smile is evil, because Stephen tangled with her, too.

“I bet they’re not the only ones. Need a drink, handsome?” I offer the whiskey bottle, but he waves it away.

“I wouldn’t say no to some tequila, though.”

I’ve never meet a bruin who would.

“Help yourself to a shot on the way out.” I nod at the door pointedly, but he doesn’t take the hint. I up the ante. “Hell, grab a bottle. I’ll put it on Jett’s tab.”

He smiles at this and rubs a massive shoulder, but remains seated, looking at me. “What’s the story with her and bears anyway?”

“Family secret.” I cross my arms and dial up my glare.

Stephen sighs and slowly unfolds himself from my chair. I dangle the whiskey bottle from my fingers and stare up.
Way
up. Jesus, the man is huge. I know Georg is bigger as he’s grizzly to his second’s black bear, but standing next to Stephen it’s hard to remember that.

He stares down and taps my nose. I wrinkle it like Samantha from
Bewitched
and watch him sigh again. I’ve always liked Stephen—all the bruins really. This bullshit with Georg has got to stop. He seems to be thinking along those same lines.

“Your sisters won’t be declaring bear season over what happened last night, will they?”

I shake my head. “For Jett, it’s always bear season, handsome. You have about as much shot there as Georg has of putting a ring on my finger.” I wave my middle one at him merrily. “Let’s just say, you get him to leave me the fuck alone, I’ll make sure they leave you all the fuck alone, all right?”

He rolls those massive shoulders, looking pensive. “If it were up to me… But it is not. And Georg is not reasonable where you are concerned. He worries about you.” He studies me from under heavy black brows. “Would it be so terrible to be his queen? You’re friends. I know you care about him, Seph, even if you’re pissed right now. It’s a good match. You would want for nothing. And you would be safe with us.”

I frown at this, thinking it an odd choice of words, as I am perfectly capable of keeping myself safe. At least when stupid bruins aren’t bribing near-gods to kidnap me and flash-freeze my magic. I’m not as strong as my sisters, but I’m not a goddamn wimp either. Then I remind myself:
shifter
. They think that way. Very he-man, or he-animal. Something very phallic, anyway.

Stephen’s message is sincere though, so I answer it in kind.

“It’s not gonna happen, okay? Georg deserves someone who wants him more than I do. Do us all a favor and make him see that, Stephen.” I clear my throat before dropping into my chair, which at least is nice and warm now. Shifters. They run hot.

“Fine. I will try, when I find him.
If
you tell your sister that the next time we meet …I’ll not be the one taken from behind.” There is a devilish gleam in his eyes.

I blink, then choke as the double-meaning hits me. “You really want me to put it like that?”

He winks. “Yeah, Seph. Exactly
like that.”

“Okie dokie.” My sister is going to eat him for dinner and hang his pelt on her wall. “Hey, how’d you get in here anyway?” I ask before he clears the doorway.

Stephen turns with a smile, a slow curving of what I belatedly realize is a very sensual mouth. Suddenly, I’m worried for Jett—and a tiny bit thrilled. This could be fun to watch.

“Family secret.” His departing growl makes me grin before some much-needed whiskey hits my lips.

6

The
woods are bright green, summer in full force. One of the sweet spots in the year, too early for massive bugs, late enough for actual warmth. The smell is heavenly, but not as heavenly as the feel of him beside me. Every time I get a glimpse of Jack through my lashes, it sends a thrill straight into my gut, and lower.

I can’t help smiling like a loon, which is why I don’t look up very often. I always try for chill, but Jack can unravel that with a glance. He doesn’t seem to mind my occasional derpy-ness though. In fact, I think he finds it endearing, which is sealing my fate. I’m falling for him.

Hell, I think I already went splat.

Hand in hand, we trudge down the trail. A surprise, he’d said when he’d called me earlier. And then he’d made me risk running back into the house to grab a swimsuit.

I love Jack’s surprises. My favorite so far was the motorcycle ride to Two Harbors for my birthday, tucked against his broad back, the bike and his body between my legs. It was much better than the couple of times he’s taken me on the wind. Jack travels that way a lot, but it makes me want to hurl. The bike, though, that was fun…and hot.

That trip was over a month ago. I shiver and Jack glances over, eyes narrowing at my instant blush. I’m ridiculously shy with him, but it’s his own damn fault. Jack takes moving slow to a whole ’nother level.

He’s kissed me, sure—just never as much as I would like. Kissing Jack is an experience I can’t imagine
ever
getting enough of. But he never does anything else. I know he’s weirded out by the difference in our ages. Hel-lo, me fucking too! I’m with a guy who existed long before I was a speck in anyone’s eye. Or even before my mother was, which in my case, is saying something.

Speaking of which, my mother would bind my magic and lock me in my room for the next century if she knew who I was seeing, but I don’t give a shit about any of that. I just want him. Truth is, this man makes me a bit nuts. In every way.

I thought that after my birthday Jack might get down to business, since I’m officially legal now, but no go.

“What’re you thinking of, princess?” he asks, a teasing bite to his tone.

I sigh and give him a sidelong look. “Nothing that would interest you. Apparently.”

He looks away, but his lips twitch and I know he caught the jab. But he doesn’t respond.

Typical. Getting any sort of a rise out of Jack, har har
,
is pretty tough. He’s mellow to the extreme around me, though occasionally I see something in his frosty eyes. Something dark and cool that makes my heart both stutter and race.

“Well now,
that
is beautiful.” I stop short at the view behind Jack.

The Lester River area is always awesome. A tangled woodland beauty that rambles through east Duluth in a maze of waterfalls and swimming holes, the most memorable of which is probably the Deeps, a cliff-diving paradise off Seven Bridges Road that’s haunted June to August by college kids and families alike. But the scene in front of us is more than nature, it’s magic. I can feel it in my bones. The river jumps off a perfectly smooth lip of stone, falling in ruffled sheets to a pool of deep emerald green rimmed by quiet pines that sway in the breeze.

“That,” I point below, “is not real. Who’d you bribe for the illusion?”

“It’s not an illusion. It’s real. For today anyway.” He shrugs at my frown, pulling my suit from his backpack and pointing to a huge tree. “Go change.”

I take my suit from his outstretched hand and follow orders. “How’d you pull off the magic?” I call.

Jack’s powerful as holy fuck, but even he can’t change a summer forest like this.

“The sylphs like me.”

“Do they now?” I peek at him from behind the tree and almost fall over.

He’s bare-assed, without a goddamn stitch, bending over his backpack and rummaging for his swim trunks.

What’s not to like?

The man is pure deliciousness in human form. He’s powerfully built, but lithe. Taut strength flows in long, corded lines, thicker through his upper arms and the wide muscles of his upper back. Tanned skin just a shade lighter than walnut, smooth and flawless, covers all, except where it’s marked with ink.

Those wicked tattoos ripple as he flexes both arms, indecipherable runes and patterns curling around biceps that make me lean my cheek against the tree, mouth half open, not even feeling the rough bark. Those wide, wide shoulders taper down and my eyes follow helplessly. He has dimples right above the hard curves of his ass. Dimples.

Dear god, I think I’m melting.

I duck back around the tree as he straightens, trying to not to pant like some horn-dog Peeping Tom.

I’m never seen a man naked in the flesh. Masculinity is in short supply around my house, so there’s never been the accidental sightings I’ve heard about growing up from other friends.

I’m glad my first peek is of Jack, but holy shit, my eyes will never be the same. I finish putting on my suit in a daze. Trying to pull myself together. Trying not to imagine what he looks like from the front bare like that…

Oh lord, I’m gonna faint.

Jack raises an eyebrow when I finally emerge. “You all right, princess?”

My eyes immediately focus on the dark line of hair licking over the ridges of his abdomen, disappearing under the navy trunks tied low on his hips.

“Yeah, just a little…hot.” My voice is way too breathless. Jack doesn’t seem to notice, giving me an almost cursory once over before walking hastily to the edge of the small cliff.

“Exactly why we’re here.” His voice sounds funny.

I glance down at my suit, wondering what the problem is as I follow him. The candy-apple red bikini is pretty sweet, if I do say so myself. Of course, I spill out of it, like I do most things. With a sigh, I yank the material down over my ass once, then give up. Why fight economics? It’s simple supply and demand; my ass demands more fabric, but it’s always in short fucking supply.

Jack glances up when I stand next to him, that something in his eyes again. My hands clench at my sides, but before I can drive myself crazy trying to guess what he’s thinking, I’m in his arms. “Stop worrying, Seph.”

I suck in air so fast, I squeak. He laughs, tightening his hold.

“I’m not worried,” I snap, startled into being too honest, “I just wondered if you’re ever gonna kiss me again.”

He doesn’t look surprised. Those thick brown lashes lower a fraction and I swear the color in his eyes deepens. “Always so impatient, princess. Good things come to those who wait,” he whispers. “Or hadn’t you heard?”

“Who told you your kisses are any good?” I retort, trying not to squirm in his arms. God, he feels amazing. All that sun-warmed skin pressed against mine is making it hard to focus.

“Were they mistaken?” His lips brush mine and I lose the thread of our conversation.

“Hmmm?”

His soft chuckle breaks through the fog, but before I can think up a reply, it’s too late. I’m being ruthlessly kissed. And I do mean ruthlessly.

The feel of his mouth always takes my breath away, but this time it’s more. Jack’s always been controlled, almost a little deliberate when he takes my mouth. It’s incredibly frustrating and hot as hell. All that cool experience tempering my wild impatience. But now he’s kissing me like the kid gloves are coming off at last.

He nips my lower lip, and I gasp, clinging to those broad shoulders, his muscles bunched and tight under my hands. When his tongue slides into my mouth, my knees buckle and my nails dig into hard, warm flesh. He tastes fiery and smooth at the same time, like spiced wine. I’m greedy for more.

We’ve never kissed with so little between us. It’s doing...things to me. His bare skin under my fingers, the way his big hand slips into my hair, cupping the back of my neck, forcing me to my toes. The way his thighs brush mine, making my stomach do these weird flips inside.

Whimpering, I try to press closer, but Jack pulls away. There’s a storm in his eyes now and the sight of it makes me a little scared. I can almost hear the air crackling between us, as if lightning is going to strike at any moment.

Then he smiles. God, that smile.

“Last one in is a rotten egg.” With one hand, he shoves me off the cliff. The free fall is over almost before I can register it, my scream swallowed by shockingly cold water that closes over my head like icy green silk. Sputtering, I surface just in time to see Jack slice through the water next to me.

I flip him off when he surfaces. “Guess this means you’re the rotten one, eh?”

“To the core,” he whispers in my ear, his breath hot against my chilled skin. Then he’s diving again. So deep, I can just see the sinuous shadow of him below me in the dark-green tones of the pool. I try to kick away, but I’m too slow.

Strong fingers coil around my ankle and yank me under, pulling me to the waterfall as I sputter and kick at him, laughing so hard I almost choke.

“Let me go, Jack, dammit!”

He ignores my protests, drawing me under the torrent, the force of the water shutting my mouth and closing my eyes, burying me in a cascade of bubbles and froth.

When I open them again, we’re in a small cave and Jack’s telling me to stand. The water is only about waist high on him, which on me is right under my boobs. The roar of the falls is oddly muted here. The cave walls slope in a too-perfect curve, covered thickly with moss like green velvet, blooming with flowers in gold and blue that leave a soft lily-like fragrance in the air.

The waterfall is a frothy silver curtain, sealing in the rippling light that dances in time with the rhythm of the water. Sound is oddly muted here, soft and hushed, like an abandoned temple. I catch my breath, it’s so damn beautiful.

The sylphs did good.

Jack watches as I pivot, my eyes trailing from detail to detail. He says nothing when I finally circle back to face him. His arms are folded over his chest, his expression unreadable. He doesn’t ask if I like it, because the answer is obvious. But I know he can read the question on my face. Why?

Oh, he’s gone out of his way to please me more than once, but this is over the top—and that’s not really his style. Jack’s all about the laid back.

He never tries too hard, he doesn’t have to.

I frown as a thought hits.
Nah.
But that kiss earlier…

Something arch takes hold of me. My heart starts to pound. I raise an eyebrow and glide through the water.

“Are you finally going to seduce me, Jack?” I say it, bemused and a little shaken at my boldness. He watches me come closer, not saying a word.

When we’re inches apart, I lift my hand, splaying it across his broad chest. The kick of his heart is steady against my palm. His skin is damp and very warm. When I slide my hand lower, over those ridges I admired earlier, Jack flattens his hand over mine, stilling the movement. “When I decide to seduce you, princess, believe me, you’ll know it.”

He looks suddenly angry—scary even, his jaw tightening to a blade-like sharpness. I falter, turning away, flushing. I should’ve kept my damn mouth shut.

In the next heartbeat, his hand is cupping my cheek, gently enough it makes my eyes fill as he tips my face back up. My emotions are all over the place, my pulse racing. I want to run, but I want to stay more.

“God damn it, Seph.”

His lips cover mine, and I taste the water droplets there mingled with his spicy sweetness. Slowly, he turns me, so that I am facing the waterfall, kissing him over one shoulder. He pulls back enough that our lips barely brush, holding my gaze for what feels like forever.

Slowly, Jack deepens the kiss again, making me moan, then his hands are all over me. Strong hands, slightly rough, and slick from the water.

He runs them over my arms first, up and down, raising goose bumps. His fingers slide down to bracket my wrists as his mouth keeps me busy. He lifts them until my arms twine around his neck, my back against his naked chest. My fingertips run over his nape into the silky-wet heaviness of his hair. My breasts are ridiculously prominent now, thrusting up and out. They feel so heavy, achy and hot, it almost hurts.

I wriggle, trying to ease the sensation, which only makes the damn things bounce and drives my craving for his touch up another notch. I barely resist stomping my foot in frustration. Jack laughs softly against my mouth, then his tongue slides against mine, hot and carnal. A distraction I can’t resist.

When his fingertips finally brush the underside of my breasts, I gasp, going straight to my toes, arching like a cat begging for an itch to be scratched. And oh boy, do I have one hell of an itch.

My nipples jut against the wet fabric of my suit, hard and swollen. His hands cup me, using just the right amount of pressure to drive me mad, teasing and squeezing. When his thumbs slide over those hardened tips at last, a choked cry rings out, echoing in the cave. It startles me, even though it came from my own damn throat.

Jack makes a noise like a growl in return, a dangerous, male sound that makes my insides clench.

His hips cup my ass, his erection hard and obvious, branding me with its heat. I can’t breathe, struggling with this growing weight inside me. This need.