Page 3 of Violet Moon (Pitch Mountain Pack #1)

“He’s not that bad,” Sera defended her vampiric best friend’s partner. “You could swap bakery shifts with me.”

“You keep it. I had my fill of the bakery this morning when I did my bread batch. I’ll go to the meeting and go to Crooked Creek as soon as it’s over.” She stepped away from her desk, lost in thought, before refocusing on Sera. “Before I forget, where’s the color for the day?”

“The daisies are colorful.”

“They’re mostly white. Also, they don’t count. You know the rules.”

Sera looked down at her outfit. “There’s a stripe of yellow in the pattern.” She yanked on the hem of her vest to hold it out. “There. See? In the plaid. A strong slap of yellow.”

Parisa stepped into her space and held the hem of her vest between her fingers. “I would hardly call that a slap of anything. More like a love tap, azizam .”

Sera held her breath as Parisa ran the fabric between her fingertips.

“But I suppose it will count.” Parisa glanced up, face inches from Sera’s.

“Sometimes it’s a good thing to not stand out.” Sera pulled away, ignoring how the room felt warmer now.

“Oh, but you always stand out in the best sort of ways, don’t you?” Parisa spun on her heels. “Even when you don’t intend to be, you’re too good to fade into the background.”

Sera curled her shoulders, folding in on herself. “You wear enough color for the both of us, Pari. At least my outfit is from this decade.”

“This is modern enough. I attempted to keep up with the styles for over a hundred years. Do you know how much fabric I went through? Not to mention all the times the wolf slipped out and I ripped the beautiful things to shreds. No, I stopped in the fifties. Once those patterns in the sixties hit, I knew I was finished. Besides, it’s not old-fashioned. It’s vintage.”

“You’ve been unstoppable since you learned that word.”

“Haven’t I, though?” Parisa’s eyes crinkled in the corners before Pari transformed back into Alpha Parisa, losing all the whimsy in her features and replacing them with the stern, respectable gaze of a pack Alpha. She nodded at Sera, “Chamber of Commerce and then Crooked Creek.”

“Bakery and then Hugh.”

Seraphine arrived at the back door of Violet Moon several minutes after her shift began. She flung the door open, and Emmaline looked up at her with one eyebrow raised.

“Better timing than yesterday!” Sera exclaimed.

“Barely,” Emmaline said with an amused grin. She had her hands in some pastry dough and her long box braids were loosely tied back.

“Still counts. Been busy back here today?”

“Always.”

“Don’t worry. I won’t get in your way.” Sera made her way towards the door that led towards the front of the shop.

“I’d just barrel through you if you did.” Emmaline winked. “I stand by my offer to teach you so you can be back here, too, and not out there with all the people.” She shuddered as she said the last word.

Sera shook her head. “I’m a curse back here. You know that. Whatever I don’t burn comes out squishy and I manage to break everything.”

“Not everything. You’re the only one who can fix that mixer we all have issues with.”

“That’s just a bit of tinkering.”

“Whatever it is, it’s a big help.” Emmaline waved a flour-covered hand. “And practice will lift whatever curse you think you have in no time.”

“I know where I’m meant to be and it’s not back here.” Sera put her hand on the swinging door. “Time to face the crowds.”

“Good luck. Oh, and Beta?”

“Yeah?”

“There was an order of tartlets no one could find a record of this morning.”

“Shoot! I forgot. I’ll take care of it now.”

She pushed through the swinging doors and heard the sound of customers chatting over the sound of soft, classical music.

The entire room was drenched in soft purples and golds, from the subtle, floral wallpaper to the golden chandelier hanging in the center.

Parisa hadn’t liked it at first, but Sera picked it out and her Alpha tended to give her whatever she requested.

Whether it was a tour bus dropping off a sea of tourists in the area or locals needing a sweet treat after a show or some fresh bread to start their day, if Violet Moon was open, it was busy.

They were situated in the bustling arts district that had grown up around the vampire theaters and art galleries in the area — not to mention the equally popular vampire coffee shop across the street.

In her haste, Sera nearly ran into Wilma, a wolf who’d been with the pack nearly as long as herself.

“The tarts! I forgot!”

“Already taken care of,” Wilma explained, her expression neutral, as it usually was. “The customer came in a few minutes ago and I handled it.” Her abundant black curls swished around her as she continued filling the front glass display case with tartlets from the back.

“What would I do without you, Wil?”

“You’d be fine.” Wilma stood, wiping off her hands on her apron as a yawn overtook her. She turned to hide it from customers and Sera. “Sorry Beta, I didn’t rest like I should’ve yesterday, but don’t worry. It hasn’t affected the bakery at all.”

“You’re allowed to yawn. Did you stay up working on a new piece?”

Wilma nodded. “I can’t be done until I’ve reached a predetermined stopping point.”

“What’s the current obsession?”

Wilma’s features came alive. “Encaustic paintings. You mix these colored pigments into hot, liquid wax and it’s incredible.

” She started speaking faster the more her gaze drifted past Sera and to her various paintings that hung on the bakery’s walls.

“At first I was just making abstract pieces to learn the process, but now I’m moving into landscapes and I’ve even started researching how I can incorporate organic pieces like flowers. ”

“You can always use whatever you like from the greenhouse.”

“Thanks. I appreciate it, and I’ll definitely take you up on that offer.” Wilma smiled. “Though, it’s also nice to go out into nature and find little bits of inspiration, too.”

“Makes sense. Like how a run in the woods as a wolf can clear your head.”

“Something like that.”

Sera gestured towards a collection of Wilma’s art on the wall. “Don’t you have another art show coming up?”

“Yeah, next month.”

“Excellent. You know I’ll be there as part of the ‘Wil Fan Club.’” Sera chuckled. Everyone knew she could be overly enthusiastic when it came to supporting her pack, but how could she hold back when she was surrounded by so many amazing people? “Will you include your encaustic work, too?”

“Probably not. The show was designed around my mixed-media art where I was working with paint and textiles.”

“Well, I can’t wait to see all the finished products.”

“And her new piece looks awesome,” Lock said, swinging past with a new batch of savory hand pies from the back. His sturdy and imposing build contrasted with the smile he always wore.

Wilma beamed under the attention. “Thanks. I’m still learning, but I’m pleased with the results so far.”

The bell on the front door rang and Sera instantly switched from Beta to bakery manager as Wilma waved and slipped into the back.

The steady stream of customers kept her hands and mind occupied for most of the day, but every now and then it’d drift to thoughts of the Crooked Creek Pack and their new Alpha situation.

She’d never known a new Alpha before. The ones she knew had been around for decades, even centuries.

A new Alpha with aggression issues seemed like a cause for alarm, even if life was continuing like normal around the whole situation.

Whatever Jason chose, to remain with his pack or break off and begin a new one, it would forever change the Crooked Creek Pack.

Any changes in a pack always shook even the firmest foundations.

Welcoming Jo to the Pitch Mountain Pack a few months ago was the right decision, but it didn’t mean the balance wasn’t upset for a little while — or still was.

Parisa spent a lot of time helping Jo acclimate to both being a wolf and to pack life which meant more fell on Sera’s plate, which also meant Wilma had to pick up more slack when Sera’s messy binder and brain meant some things fell through the cracks.

“Do you have anything you’d recommend?”

Sera startled out of her customer service autopilot mode. A man on the other side of the counter focused on her.

“Are you in the mood for something sweet or savory?”

“Someone like you seems sweet, so why don’t we go with that?”

One of those types, then. Sera kept her eyes from rolling.

She painted on the smile that was reserved for times when the situation demanded civility, but Sera wanted to be petty.

“The daily fruit tartlet assortment is always popular, as are our ‘wolf-sized croissants,’ but the sheermal is our specialty and we only have it three days a week, so best to get it before it sells out.”

The man laughed and leaned over the counter. “Going to have to tell me what that last one is.”

“Persian sweet bread. The owner made today’s batch with rosewater and saffron, like always, with added raisins and pistachios.”

“I thought you were gonna give me something sweet.”

“There’s always fruit tartlets,” she said and welcomed the rush of relief she felt when he finally picked something, paid, and sat down. He was still in her eyesight, but at least he wasn’t talking anymore.

“Want me to kill him for you?” Lock snuck behind her and laughed.

“Don’t even joke about that,” Sera hissed, but she was torn between being professional and laughing.

“Look, I’ll cut you a deal. I take care of that one for you and then I get to chase down the tourist who asked me what my ‘spirit animal’ was today while you turn the other way.

” Lock, full name Amos Locklear, was built like a brick wall and was everything that someone would assume a werewolf should look like, but he was probably the gentlest one in the pack.

“Isn’t your shift over?” Sera changed the subject.

“Covering for Olive in front of the house. She’s got finals coming up.”

“Don’t you, too?”

“Yeah, but I’m fine. And this is, like, my fourth degree. Who cares about As at this point?”

“That’s awfully kind of you.”

“What can I say? I’m always this kind.” He winked before ducking back into the kitchen.

“Excuse me.”

Sera snapped her head back towards the front counter. A young boy who had to stretch to peek over the surface caught her attention. Her heart clenched. He had brown hair like her own and dots of sun freckles across his cheeks.

“Can I help you?” Sera forced out the words and smile.

“Three curry hand pies, please.” His little hand shot up, holding a fistful of money. He dumped it on the counter. “It’s my birthday so we get to have lunch not at my house and mom says I’m big enough to buy the pies by myself now. Some of this is my money.”

“Happy birthday,” she said around the lump in her throat.

He had freckles and rosy cheeks. Her vision tunneled.

Her heart beat in strange, staccato bursts and there was a ringing in her ears.

The past collided with the present and she was back in a seaside town in a well-loved kitchen telling her younger brother to wait for the cookies to cool before he had any.

“Just three, please,” the boy said.

Sera pulled herself back to the present. “Do you want anything else?” She started boxing the three hand pies, starved for anything else to think about.

The little boy looked over his shoulder at a table with a woman and a disinterested teenager scrolling on her phone. The woman shook her head.

“Just pies.” He started bouncing on the balls of his feet. “Please,” he added. “I always need to say ‘please.’”

Sera’s gaze followed his back to the table where his mother gave him two thumbs up for a job well done.

He beamed as he collected his change and the purple boxed lunch.

Watching him walk away, she sagged in on herself and picked out a custard tartlet in the case she’d take home later to make herself feel better.

It had never been like this before Jo came.