Page 8 of Howl for Me (Moonlight Magic Studios #1)

Chapter Seven

Johnny

I don’t need a goddamn babysitter.

Especially not one who smells that fucking good.

Even when she’s a few steps behind, she clings to me.

Not with her hands, but with her scent. It lingers and seeps into my bloodstream like something parasitic.

It’s soft and persistent, and it’s already under my skin. I need to shake this woman soon.

Cassidy walks like she isn’t afraid. Chin up, and her spine straight like she didn’t just learn that monsters are real.

I admire how hard she’s trying to keep her shit together.

I’ve annoyed her enough that I feel like she's doing this all out of spite. Well, that and the fact that once Hector has you, there’s no turning back.

Hector made it sound like I’m some feral beast in need of wrangling.

Maybe I am and maybe I want to see how long she lasts before she snaps.

I walk into the dressing room and let the door swing shut behind me, intentionally in her face.

I don’t even look back. She’s not fragile. If she’s going to last, she can’t be.

Still, I hear her mutter,

“Asshole.”

I bite down on the smirk tugging at my mouth.

Naomi’s already inside, legs draped over one arm of a chair, unbothered and waiting. Her red painted claws tap against the armrest, slow and sharp. The mirror lights catch on her dark hair and her golden-brown skin. She’s coiled grace; a jaguar shifter with a temper worse than mine.

“Naomi,” I say. “What you got for me?”

She lifts her eyes and takes me in with one slow blink. Then her gaze flicks past me to Cassidy. There’s a pause, a low, dangerous hum in the air like she’s sniffing out prey.

“Rack three,” she says finally, then motions lazily at Cassidy with her fingers. “And who’s this?”

Cassidy steps forward before I can answer. Her posture doesn’t falter, and her eyes don’t lower. She’s holding her ground like she doesn’t know Naomi could rip her throat out before she blinked.

“Cassidy,” she says, extending a hand. “Johnny’s assistant. Nice to meet you.”

The silence that follows is feline and sharp. Naomi doesn’t move right away. She stares at the hand like it’s a puzzle, weighing options. Bite or purr.

I shift my stance, subtly putting myself a little closer to them. My chest tightens, all hot and defensive.

I hate that I care. That I feel this sense of protectiveness, that if Naomi attacks, I need to step in for her.

But Naomi just grins, her white teeth flashing, as she takes Cassidy’s hand and gives it a lazy shake.

“Assistant, huh?” she says, shooting me a look. “Damn, Johnny. You really fucked up this time.”

She laughs, sharp and amused, but it’s at me, not Cassidy. That ache in my chest lets go a little as I rub at it.

Cassidy doesn’t flinch, but I catch the flicker in her eyes. She’s assessing the room like she’s memorizing exits. But not because she’s afraid, no, because she wants to win. She thinks this is a game she can learn to play. She appears observant and ready, but I know she’s just a fish out of water.

I head over to the rack Naomi pointed to, fingers brushing past fabrics until I find what they want: black jeans that won’t survive the shift, and a silk shirt that definitely won’t either.

It’s all about the shift. They don’t give a damn how I look before the transformation. All they want is the destruction. They want the ripping, raw, violent edge that keeps the cameras rolling and the fans coming.

Cassidy’s still lingering, eyes drinking in every detail like she’s filing it away.

I watch as her gaze brushes the bathroom door, and it hits me all over again.

Earlier, with her back against the sink, her breath catching when I stepped too close.

The way her skin flushed, the pretty pink shade crawling up her neck.

Her scent filled the air. It was warm, dizzying.

My control frayed like a worn thread. I had to step back.

She didn’t run again. She should’ve. She still might.

And that’s the plan. She sees what I am, what shifting really looks like, and she bolts. End of story. I get my space back. I rip her out of my system before she sinks in any deeper. Because this ache in my chest is just as annoying as her scent.

It’s not normal.

It’s not safe.

And it sure as hell isn’t going away on its own. She’s not supposed to be here. She’s not supposed to be calm, or clever, or fucking brave.

I just have to make sure that when she sees me change and when the bones crack and the beast rips free, she runs. God help me, I need her to run.

And I need to fight the urge to chase her.

I go into the bathroom to get dressed. I tug on the shirt, buttoning it halfway up before giving up.

It’s going to get destroyed, anyway. The jeans are tight, deliberately so.

They want the audience to see muscle, tension, and the strain of the wolf just under the skin.

I glance in the mirror. Yeah, I look good.

But it’s a countdown now. Tick, tick, tick until this silk is shredded and I’m on all fours, snarling through fangs.

When I step out, Cassidy looks up and there it is. I see that flicker in her expression. It lasts just a second but I catch it. The way her lips part. The way her eyes drag over me like she’s trying not to.

This time, I roll my eyes.

“You like what you see?” I say, smirking. “Enjoy it now, sweetheart. Once I shift, you won’t be looking at me like that anymore.”

Naomi’s head tilts slightly, ears perked like she’s caught a scent.

“You’ve never seen a shift before,” she says, her tone more curious than judgmental.

“Nope.” I jerk my thumb toward Cassidy. “Princess here just found out monsters are real.”

Naomi freezes for a heartbeat and then her face lights up. “Shut the fuck up.” She’s grinning now, full teeth and delight. “No way. How the hell did you land here, girl?”

“I need the job. Doesn’t get much simpler than that.” She shrugs, all sweet and strong.

That does something to my chest again. Something sharp. Fucking hell.

“She won’t last long,” I say, aiming the words like darts. “I give her five minutes into the shoot. Tops. Hell, I bet after today she takes the first bus out of here, back to wherever the hell she came from.”

Cassidy doesn’t blink. Doesn’t flinch. Just slowly turns her head toward me with that tight-lipped smile women give before they verbally stab you in the neck.

“Oh, sweetie,” she says, voice sugar-slicked and lethal. “You wish I’d run. But lucky you, I’m stuck here housebreaking the overgrown puppy who still hasn’t figured out how to follow basic instructions.”

She folds her arms across her chest, gaze sweeping down my front like she’s inspecting a problem.

“You done admiring yourself? Or do I need to get you a treat and a clicker so we can move this obedience training along?”

Naomi chokes on her laughter, wheezing. “Oh my God, I like her. Johnny, baby, I don’t know. You might be outmatched here.”

I glare at them both, jaw tight. Cassidy’s still staring at me, arms crossed, completely unfazed.

She’s not backing down and I hate how much I like that.

The stare-off breaks when the door swings open behind us. Red hair, a tight dress and heels announcing her entry follows.

Stacy.

I’ve filmed with her before and more than once. She’s the type who makes a scene just by walking in. Her eyes lock on me immediately, raking down my body like she’s flashing through every memory of my cock being inside of her.

She barely glances at Cassidy before heading straight to Naomi, arms wide, fake-cheerful. “Naomi, babe!” she sings, pulling her in for a hug like they’re old friends instead of coworkers who talk shit the second the cameras stop rolling.

Cassidy’s silence is subtle, but I feel it like static in the room. She shifts her weight, arms still crossed, but her jaw tightens. Her eyes flick toward Stacy, down her body, then back up. She’s taking in everything, every polished curve and glossy bit of perfection, and I see it.

The moment she starts to compare herself.

And the moment she decides she doesn’t measure up. It hits me in the chest like a punch I didn’t brace for. Because she has no goddamn clue.

If I had any say in this, I’d be bedding her today.

Cassidy, with her fire and her mouth and that fucking scent that’s driving me half out of my mind.

Stacy’s fine; pretty and professional. But she’s here to get railed by a monster for a paycheck and go home like it never happened.

No heat behind her eyes. No bite. Just skin and habit.

Cassidy, though… she’s something else.

And I hate she doesn’t see it.

“Let’s go,” I say, sharper than I mean to, already heading for the door.

Cassidy glances at me, hesitates for half a beat, then follows.

Stacy’s voice trails after us like perfume and cigarette smoke. “See you on set, Johnny.”

I don’t respond.

She’s one of the humans who doesn’t care about whether you’re a shifter, a human, something in between?

Doesn’t matter. She just wants to be fucked by a beast and collect her paycheck and go home.

She’s asked me to take her out once or twice.

I said no. I always keep my distance. No dating, no strings, none of the mess that comes with getting too close.

That’s the rule. But now I’m walking beside Cassidy, the woman who looks at me like she’s torn between stabbing me and trying to figure me out, with a tight ache in my chest and a question I don’t want to answer:

What the fuck am I doing?

I need this shoot to go well. A nice, full-blooded, bones-snapping kind of shift. The kind that’s messy and violent and monstrous enough to send Cassidy running for the fucking hills.

I need that.