Page 8 of Chasing the Wolf (Dark Wing #7)

Chapter 8

Xavier

I 'm pacing back and forth in front of the bar’s doors. Loving couples and a group of single guys have filed in over the last twenty minutes. Bj?rn Bar's on the fourth deck. An oak bar flashes beyond the massive doors when anyone yanks open the large iron handles.

Me: Where are you?

"I'm here." Mac is slinking down the hall.

My wolf bats against my skin. I slept like shit last night. Even a second application of my nighttime spray didn't help. Then again, Colton making me sleep in the little closet with the bunk beds didn't help. He berated me, saying, "You're not getting mated anytime soon. You can just sleep in the toddler bed. If I end up getting some action, I'm not taking her in there. And you are not bringing my sister into my cabin. She is not your mate."

But the way my wolf is wagging its tail, I'm thinking Colton is very much wrong. Fuck, Mac looks amazing today. There’s no uniform in sight, though she does look cute in a purple shirt with a volcano on it. Instead, she's wearing a black Chocolate Anxiety T-shirt with skinny jeans. Casual and completely Mac. Or at least how I've imagined her for the last ten years. I didn't let myself be obsessed with her. But the more I tried to not be, the more I found myself stalking her social media. Until one day she just stopped posting anything.

I reach out for her hand. A casual greeting.

She glares at it. "Let's get one thing straight: I'm here because my FO thinks this will make me a better person and I don't want to get in trouble at work. I'm not here for you. So keep your little gestures to yourself."

Gordon, the bartender from the pool bar yesterday, ducks his head out of the swinging doors. "Mackenzie and Xavier, you're on the roster. Are you coming in?"

"Yeah, we'll be right in," I say. "They're not little gestures. I care about you. You have a new pack now. And I get it. You've made it clear you're happy. And I'm glad. But my care for you is genuine."

"Surrrre it is. Look, for the first time in your life, you're free. You're on a cruise ship full of females who would happily provide you with what you're after. There's no reason to be chasing after me. I mean, really? After everything?"

"We're going to start." Gordon glances from Mac to me and back. He's checking up on us—FO orders, no doubt. But I’m grateful to the massive bear shifter. Mac would never have done anything like this with me otherwise.

"We're coming." Mac follows Gordon in, and I trail behind like a puppy. "Oh, no. There aren't two seats together. Guess I'll have to sit over there and you can be all the way across the bar. See you after the class."

An older woman stands up. "That's absurd. You didn't come on the cruise together to not sit together." She moves through the entire room, getting people to shift one seat over. "Now you can sit together," she says, the glow of a good deed well done on her face. And I want to kiss the granny.

"Thanks," Mac says brightly to the woman before she turns to me and says, "Sit."

I plop on the seat like I'm a golden retriever looking for a biscuit. It's a tight squeeze, but I don't mind. Mac has to lean a little to her left to keep my shoulder from rubbing up against her.

"All right, now that we're all settled, welcome to Mixology Dark Wing Style. I'm Gordon, and this is Clara. She'll be helping today."

There's a chorus of hellos from around the room before Clara places trays with glasses, a muddler, long silver stirrers with dragons on the end, several small bottles of alcohol, mint, maraschino cherries, and a tiny ice bucket with tongs, along with a few other things, in front of each group.

"We're going to start with the classic Bronze Dragon and move to a Dark Wing, a drink created with our captain as the namesake and inspiration. The goal is to learn how to make the drinks. It doesn't mean you need to drink all of them. That goes for both shifters and humans. This is a lot of alcohol, and if at any point we think you're done tasting your creations, Clara or myself will make a call to cut you off."

A guy at the other end boos.

"It is what it is. There will also be a competition at the end for the best-made cocktail. And one for most original cocktail. The winning cocktail may make it onto the Dark Wing pool bar menu."

"This stuff can't affect a shifter,” a guy at the end of the bar says.

"It can—just be smart about it," Gordon replies.

The guy's friend elbows him. "Smart ass."

Gordon nods at his assistant, Clara. She picks up a phone behind the bar, but it's so loud in the room that I can't hear what she says.

"She's calling in Rama," Mac whispers. "It's something they do when they think the group is going to get rowdy.”

"You can hear her?"

"No, but I'm great at reading lips." Mac plays with a dragon swizzle stick, swirling it around the cranberry juice.

"That's cool."

She shrugs. "I'm full of cool tricks."

"I bet you are." I smile at her. Our eyes lock until she turns away.

"Pay attention. I don't want to have our cocktails turn out like trash. Ours have to beat the loud guys at the other end."

"Are you always this competitive?"

"Yes, and you heard what he said. If we win most original drink, it could end up on the menu. That would be awesome, having a drink end up on the menu."

"Do you . . . drink much?"

"Define ‘much?’"

I cock my head at her. Maybe it's wrong, but I never pictured her as a partier. Even when she was in college. And while I haven’t seen her in forever, the social media stalking I have done makes me feel like I know her. Even though she doesn’t post much.

"Fine, my idea of drinking is to put one shot of vodka in my espresso. And that's enough for a night. But... I'm not sure the last time I even did that."

"That's what I thought."

Gordon lists the instructions for the first drink. When I turn back to Mac, she's pulled out a notebook and is taking notes. There are stars and underlines on the page. And I find myself watching her hand scribble across the page rather than listening to Gordon. He's going on about the ratio of simple syrup to alcohol, 1:4 being sour, 1:2 being sweet, 4:1 making it super sweet, but I don't care. Watching her is far more interesting than the actual class.

"Okay, you can begin," Gordon says. Somehow, he's given the directions for both drinks already.

"He said, ‘begin.’" Mac's forehead furrows.

"So let's begin."

"You weren't paying attention."

"You were." I tap her notes. "We're a team."

"Who says? Maybe I'm working with..." She turns to the other side, but the couple to the right of her are already pouring things. "Fine. We're a team. But just for this."

"That's what the FO wanted, right? For Colton's sake."

"Yeah, for my brother's sake. What did he do this morning, anyway?"

"I have no idea. He wasn't there when I got up. And when I came back from watching the game on the pool deck, there was a different pile of dirty clothes on the floor. Random shoes were scattered about the cabin."

"That sounds about right." Mac flashes a brief smile. "Come on, let's get busy. One tablespoon of the syrup here. Make sure you stir while you pour." Her eyes flash to the bros at the other end of the bar who are not stirring as they pour. A few more ingredients, and she holds it up for me. "You want to taste it first?"

"No, you can do the honors." I lean in.

"All right." Her lips kiss the rim of the glass. "Oh, it's really good. I didn't think I liked whiskey. But I could drink it this way." She licks her lips. Fuck me. She holds it out for me.

I take a sip. The drink is darn good. I'm not much for sugary drinks, preferring my whiskey or Dragon Ale neat. It's refreshing, but there's something missing. And it's Mac. She not only held the glass, but she sipped from it, and I don't taste her on it at all. I lean my nose into her neck. There's no scent at all.

"What?" Her eyes flash to mine. I've become used to hiding my emotions, but I'm wearing them clearly on my face now. Mac has done something to hide her true scent.

I've got a couple of options. One, play along and pretend I don't notice. Make her come to her senses and realize how great we could be together. Two, confront her. I glance over at her. Yeah, I think I'm going to be playing along for a while.

"Nothing, it really is good." I take another sip and hand it back to her.

"We should get started on the second drink." She pushes her notes toward me and takes a long draw on the drink. She proceeds to guide me through the next drink, step by step. "That's it, you've done it."

"Here, taste it." I hand it to her. My fingers brush hers. She sucks in her breath. I feel a zap through my body. I know she did too. But I'm not giving in. Not letting her know she's playing with fire by trying to keep us apart. I have no idea why she would want to keep us apart. Nothing will stop me from getting her to change her mind about me, about us.

"It's good," she says, looking away.

Her friend Rama comes in the side crew door. "Hello, students." Rama waves around the bar. Her eyebrows rise when she focuses on Mac. "I see we've got a star pupil." Rama heads behind the bar and smiles at Mac but then turns her attention to the older woman down the bar. "Miss Kimberly, I didn't know you were back on another cruise. Okay folks, I've taught this woman here everything I know. It's going to be a tight competition."

There's another drink, and Clara brings us another round of trays. Only this time, we're to make a big cocktail for ourselves and pour some into a shot glass for the competition.

I grab Mac's notebook and take the notes. The same way I did in college, the same way I was able to graduate at the top of my class. The same focus I used to make the formulas for Raw Timberline. I glance over at Mac. She's smiling. Smiling and sipping the Bronze Dragon.

This drink has seven ingredients. The chemist in me can see if you don't do things in the right order, you really could spoil things. This time, I guide Mac through the recipe. She pours some into the shot glass, then holds it up to my lips. No more holding back. I let my fingers mingle with hers against the cool glass. It's a delightful torture. I'm on fire. She doesn't move her hand while I let the cool drink slide down my throat.

Two swallows and she rights the glass. "Is it good?"

"Delicious." I lick my lips, and her eyes flash. My tone drops. "Try it."

She holds it to her mouth. "It's good. I think this might be my favorite."

The room has become noisy. But the bros at the end haven't escalated to the point of needing an intervention.

"For our last drink, it's your own recipe. And as your judge, I'm asking for kindness. If it looks like a curdled brain, I'm not drinking it. Well, I'll be blindfolded, but still I'm hoping my lovely peers won't let me drink anything that looks like a zombie brain. We'll be going down the line to give you a tray of basic ingredients. You can ask for two extra ingredients, so make them count." Gordon lists the basics of the tray and a long list of extras we can choose from.

“Remember you have a lot of choices," Rama and Clara say together, waving their hands like magician assistants over all the little glasses. "And only one shot at greatness."

It's not that funny, but the class is definitely having a good time. Everyone laughs.

"A lot of dishes," Rama and Clara say together, waving their hands like magician assistants over all the little glasses. It's not that funny, but the class is definitely having a good time. Everyone laughs.

"What do you want to do?" I ask Mac.

She cocks her head at me like me asking her is the strangest thing. "Well, I know Gordon hates oranges and mint."

"Insider trading. I didn't think you would be so sneaky."

"It's not insider trading. It's knowing your customer."

I laugh. "True. Marketing analysis. Color and taste business."

"Also, if it's going on the menu, it will need to be worthy. But Gordon is a bartender and he'll have to make it, so it can't be too complicated."

"Another great point. Rama's coming. What do we want as our extra ingredients?"

"Coffee and—" She pushes herself up on the bar and whispers to Rama.

"Oh, that will be perfect." Rama nods and scurries away.

"What are we going to call it?" I ask.

"The Java Lava."

"After the coffee shop? What about the Macvier? Or the Xkenzie?"

"No, and no. Do you know what the bestselling dessert in the Java Lava is?"

"I have no idea."

She holds out her T-shirt. "Before they got big, Chocolate Anxiety used to play on the ship. No one knows if they were named after the dessert or the dessert was named after them."

"Really?"

"True story."

"Let's make the best damn Java Lava drink there is."

Twenty minutes later, we're standing, holding our two shot glasses on a tray. Like we're on a reality cooking show. Gordon's wearing a blindfold.

Rama claps her hands. "Gordon will take a small sip of the Golden Dragon and write down the winner of that round before we move on to the original round." She waves her hand in front of Gordon. "You can't see?"

"Nope." Gordon smiles.

There are seven teams. But two of them have already drunk their entries and are sitting at the bar waiting for any leftovers.

"Okay." Rama has a set of cards. She places the letter cards down on the table and hands a matching one to each group before moving their drinks to the table in front of the room. We're C. "Here's A."

"Not bad." He nods.

Rama gives him a sip of each one. Gordon turns his back to us and takes off his blindfold. He writes something on a piece of paper and slides it into an envelope before Rama climbs onto a stool and reties his blindfold. The room bursts into laughter. She spins him around a few times.

"I love my job, I love my job." He laughs.

Rama takes our Java Lava drink. This time, we have the letter G.

"Here's F,” she says.

"Whoa, that's original." Gordon smacks his lips.

"Here's G."

I'm weirdly nervous. I run a billion-dollar company that employs most of my pack. But the idea of something Mac and I made together not going well? Yeah, that bothers me. Her hand slips into mine, and I squeeze it. My heart beats in my throat.

"Gee, I hope I like it." He sniffs it. "Interesting. People don't usually think of asking for coffee as an ingredient." He takes a sip and then holds it up like he can see it. "I can't wait to see the color of this." He puts the shot glass back down on the tray. "That's going to be hard to beat." He samples the last three and takes off his blindfold. Gordon dramatically wiggles his eyebrows at the circle of guests before he turns back to Rama and slides his answers into the envelope.

"Okay. My decisions are final, but it was a tough call between C and D in the first round."

"The envelope, Gordon," Rama says. "And the winner for the best Golden Dragon is... drum roll, please!" There's smacking on the bar tables. "Kimberly! I told you I taught her everything I know."

Rama places a plastic crown on Kimberly's and her partner's heads. "Now for best original drink, Mackenzie and Xavier!" she shouts.

Our joint hands rise in the air.

"Seriously, Mackenzie. You've been holding out on us," Gordon says. "What's it called?"

"The Xenie," Mac says.

Fuck, yeah.