Page 3 of Chasing the Wolf (Dark Wing #7)

Chapter 3

Mackenzie

" N ice shot," says Gordon, the bartender who works with Rama.

I wait until the elevator closes and run for a mop. I quickly clean up the floor and hustle back to Java Lava. I'm a few feet away from the door when I realize I still haven't called Hope. I peek through the glass. Colette's doing fine. Ina's gone. I'm going to owe my roomie big time, but I'm taking another few minutes to call down to Hope. I step back to the corner of the ramp and call the front desk.

It's exactly the wrong time to be calling them. It's the time when everything that could go wrong with the hotel portion of the ship always goes wrong. But then, it's also Hope's favorite day because she's an organizing genius and thrives on making order out of chaos.

"Dark Wing, front desk, this is Chip speaking."

"Chad, this is Mackenzie. Can I talk to Hope?"

"It's Chip, and Hope and Eva are having a discussion with a guest. I can help you."

I hold my breath and try not to freak out. "Right. Well, someone gave my brother suite 1414."

"Ohh, you're going to be an auntie!"

"Yeah, he needs a different cabin."

"No can do. We're at 98% capacity. It's spring break."

Frack, frack. "Right, of course it is. Wait, 98% capacity isn't a hundred."

"Maintenance has a few rooms offline for repairs." Chad hits the keys on his keyboard loud enough to echo in my head. "Wait, there's room 502." More typing. "Oh, but your brother is traveling with a friend."

"Yeah, they'll take it." Perfect.

"Mackenzie? Cabin 502 has that weird beam going down the side of it. It also has a bunch of six-foot groundhog statues left over from the minor holiday cruise."

"That was so weird, right?"

"Yeah, that one was a miss. This Pi Day cruise might be a miss too. But it shouldn’t be a problem for public relations. They’re still dealing with the leprechaun inflatables in the lobby from last year. They were especially not liked by anyone with red hair. Or short. Or Irish. And a few actual leprechauns. Which I didn't know was a thing?—"

"Chad, Chad, Chad... Chip! I don't care where they stay, but I don't want them staying in 1414."

"You believe in the power of 1414," he says with a laugh.

"Yes, yes, I believe in the power of 1414. Three of my closest friends found their mates after they stayed in that cabin."

"And you don't want to be an auntie."

"Sure, exactly. Get them out of there."

"I'll try."

"Tell Hope."

There's a loud commotion behind Chad. "I'll try. I've got to go." The line goes dead.

Crap. Before I head into Java Lava, I text Hope.

Message me back when you can.

"Hey." I grab my apron, wash my hands, and take the next customer. "Sorry for leaving you so long."

"No problem. But I want the complete story of what happened at the tiki bar. A lady came in and said a bartender wearing a Java Lava T-shirt just threw a drink at a man, then another passenger did too, and then he dumped a drink on himself."

"Yeah, that's pretty much what happened. Exactly."

"Damn, you must really have it out for your brother."

I pour the beans and grind them, cutting off our conversation. Because I don't have it out for him. Oh, our relationship is based on mutual aid in surviving a rocky childhood. One he added to. But when I think back to it, there were a lot of times I added to his level of stress too. I put peanut butter in the bottom of his backpack, so when he left it on the sidelines of the Kunyon field, ants got into his bag. I pasted every other page of his math book together. Yeah, I was a piece of shit just as much as he was.

Maybe not quite as much as the two of them. Honestly, Colton wasn't the mastermind of most of their shenanigans. Nope, it was Mister Daiquiri-Mojito-wearing Wilder. And the way he stood there and looked at me. Like I still don't matter. Like I'm still a cub. Truck. Mr. No-one-will-ever-want-me. Yeah, there's no way I want to even know if he's my mate.

And it hits me. Samantha. She'll have a way of keeping the bond from happening. Or at least keeping him from knowing. I turn the grinder off.

"You know you have to pour water on them to turn them into expresso. Pulverizing them alone doesn't make them drinkable." Colette laughs and cashes out the next guest.

"Yeah, sorry."

"We've got thirty minutes left before the next shift comes in. You should go,” Colette says.

"Are you serious? I just got back."

"I'm serious. If you burn out the grinder, it's going to make the rest of the cruise a hell of a lot harder."

"Right. I owe you."

"No, you don't. That's what friends are for."

"You're the best."

"Now that's true." She shakes her head, and the curls under her bandana wave at me. "I want to hear the real story later."

"All of it. You'll hear more than you ever wanted to know."

"Impossible," she says, steaming the milk.

I take one last customer before Colette points her finger at me. "Okay, I'm going. I'm going."

When I get out onto the pool deck, the cruise director is getting things set up for the sail-away party and the crowd is gathering around the tiki bar. I move through the loungers, away from the railing and the main stage. There's a little section of chairs beside the pizza parlor that usually doesn't have anyone in it. Sinking into the chair, I realize I have to do this. This. As in hide the whole cruise or get something that will mask my scent.

I duck into the closest crew stairwell and wind my way down to the seers' room on the third deck. When I first came on board, things were a lot more secretive with Violet and her apprentice, Sam. But there's been enough witch activity on board that now it's the worst-kept secret on board. I knock on the door. Don't be Violet, don't be Violet, I mantra to myself as I wait for the door to open.

"Hello dear," Violet says with her silk robe rustling around her feet. "I'm so glad to see you."

"I'm glad to see you too," I lie.

"Really?" Violet cocks her head. "I thought you might be looking for Samantha?"

"Well, actually, I am."

"That's what I thought. Sam's stepped out, but why don't you come in and wait for her?"

"Oh, or I could come back. Yeah, I should come back."

"Nonsense. I insist. I can make us some tea while we wait."

"Tea? Sure. Tea. Like black, green, or oolong."

"Oh, I do adore oolong."

"It's fun to say."

"It is, isn't it?" She steps out of the doorway and ushers me in.

I've been in here once or twice since coming aboard the ship. The first time surprised the heck out of me because it wasn't what I expected: A cluttered space with old leather-bound books and taxidermy. I expected lots of taxidermy. Stereotypical witch stuff. No, Violet's office is completely empty. An ash blond floor with an orange dot in the middle of the room. At the far end are glossy white cabinets that take up the entire wall. The walls are white, and even the sheers over the porthole are white. The only piece of furniture is one white barstool sitting against the wall. It's Scandinavian minimalism to the extreme.

Violet pivots and turns away from the glossy wall to the other side of the room. She pushes open a shiny panel, and a beaded curtain falls around us.

"Whoa." This room is the exact opposite of the main space. There's a giant bed covered in a canopy of silk scarves. Plush Oriental rugs squish under my feet. She motions to the corner of the room where there's a teacup, a mug with a cat on it, and a steaming pot of tea. "Oh, were you expecting someone? I'll just come back and see Sam later."

"I was expecting someone."

I pivot to go.

"Oh Goddess. You, Mackenzie Northwood. I was expecting you."

"Right." Because that's not creepy at all. I mean, I know I'm a shifter, my parents are fated mates, and there are all sorts of magical things that happen on the ship on a daily basis. But somehow, her having had the premonition that I was going to be here, and now? That's my line. I should go, but my body moves to the chair and slides in. "Cat mug."

"You like cats, don't you?" She pours tea into the calico cat mug.

"Lots of people like cats." I take a sip.

"Not many wolf shifters."

"What can I say? I'm different."

"Indeed, you are." Violet takes a sip of hers and puts it right down. "You had a hard time with your pack in Maine." It's a statement, not a question.

"I... I mean, isn't that what Dark Wing is all about? If you loved your last pack, why would you be here for anything but a vacation? I know I didn't come for the ample closet space."

"You're a wily one. But you do speak the truth."

"Thank you." I raise my mug and spend some time pretending to take in the mug while I'm really looking around at the room. Violet's bedroom is where a classic fortuneteller meets a hoarder. "Do you know when Sam will be back?"

"Not really. Is there something I could help you with?" She leans in with her stunning violet eyes.

"I was hoping she could help me."

Violet cocks an eyebrow in a get-to-it-already way.

"Right. My pack back in Maine isn't the best. The Alpha isn't kind... His son is my brother's best friend, and he's on board?—"

"I can't hurt a guest."

"Oh, I would never ask you to. I can fight my own battles. And I don't want to hurt Xavier." I stop because is that the truth? You could never hurt him , my wolf answers for me. "I just don't want him to..."

"What, darling? You don't want him to what?"

"I think we're fated, and I don't want him to find out. He’s about to mate someone else, anyway. So it won’t matter. Once they’re mated, any bond I have with him will disappear." I glance up at her. “Right?”

“That is how it works.” Violet stirs her tea, even though she didn't put anything in it. Her eyebrow raises again. Her silence makes me want to fill the void. It's weird. Even though Violet is my parents' age—or I think she's my parents' age—they've never once given me the time and space to let me tell a story completely.

"I can't go home. If he's my mate, I'd have to go home. I can't be there again. It's soul-crushing. Plus, he would still mate Venus and that’s...”

“Embarrassing?”

“Painful. If I knew for sure. And the clan thinks I'm something I'm not. Someone I don't want to be. And he's..." She nods, and I'm expecting her to... what? I don't know. To tell me she'll get rid of him. Get the captain to take him off the ship. But she's just waiting, and it's darn weird. "He's not someone I want to be around."

She stirs her tea the opposite way.

"I haven't seen him in person since I was seventeen. I mean, he's a lot... bigger since I saw him last." I hold my hands out. "His shoulders, for one. And he dresses better." Maybe too good. "But... I can't."

She gazes at me over the top of her teacup.

"He said things I can never forgive. He's mean. And evil. Evil." I say it a second time, letting it roll off my tongue.

"That's a serious word." She puts her cup down without a clink.

"Yes." But guilt rises from my gut. "Can you help me?" He’s not evil , my wolf says.

"I can. I'm not sure that I should." She stands, her robe flowing behind her as she opens a wooden cupboard with large iron handles beside her bed. There are rows of bottles. She holds one up to the silk-covered light. From a drawer, she takes an empty, clear-glass bottle. She pours some of the liquid from the first bottle into it and holds it up to the light again. Off the top shelf, she pulls a huge jug, larger than a gallon of milk. The liquid inside it sloshes dark green. "Where did it go?" she says with her hand on her hip. "Oh, right?" She drops to the ground and fishes under her bed, without looking. "No, no, that's not it either."

"Can I help you?"

"I'll find it. Ah, there it is." She stands up holding a long cylindrical glass thing. It's as big as a giant arm-sized eye dropper. She lowers it into the jug and drops one fat drop into the glass bottle. From the drawer, she takes a screw top and seals it up. Three good shakes and she holds it to the light again, only this time it's clear. "Perfect." She takes the top off and tosses it in the trash. From another drawer, she produces a spray top. A few twists and a click of the cap and she holds it out for me in her open palm. "This is what you could use if you want to."

I take it from her hand. "What is it?"

"Scent suppressant."

"Heck yes." I take the cap off and sniff the sprayer. "It doesn't scent like anything."

"That's the whole idea."

"Oh, right." I'm about to douse myself with it like it's the Bath and Booty perfume I loved in high school, but I stop. "How much and where?"

"Smart woman. One spritz. Walk into it like a Parisian woman in a black and white commercial."

I smile at her because I can't picture that. But I hold it out and spray the air in front of me and walk through it. "How long does it last?"

"That's hard to say. Twenty-four to forty-eight hours."

My wolf bristles at my skin, and I know why. It's like someone turned the lights out. I can't smell anything. "All the scent in the air is gone."

"You said you didn't want to know if he was your mate."

"Oh, I did say that."

"And the rules of fated mates still apply. The pull to him will lessen, and you won’t scent anything. He won’t scent anything on you either. But if he is your mate and you spend too much time around him..."

"We could get sick."

"Yes."

"It's worth it." I blink. I think it is. "It's definitely worth it."