Page 3 of Witchblood

I ignored the voice. Wasn’t sure if he was really speaking to me mind to mind or if it was just my imagination.Hedidn’t need me and made that abundantly clear when he’d let his son chase me out of his pack. I didn’t need him either. Or anyone, really. The past few months had proven that. On the run I’d met all sorts of beings. Fae, vampires, weres of all types, witches, goblins, ghosts, and more than a handful of spirits—not to be confused with ghosts since spirits had never been human. I’d survived them all. Often by the skin of my teeth and a lot of running. I was good at running. But tired. So incredibly tired. Then there was the sense of forever going in the wrong direction. A few weeks back I’d given in and just followed my senses thinking it would lead me back south. Only everything in me screamed north and west. But even chasing after that strange desire had become a burden. Running from one place to the next as some sort ofotherrushed me out of their territory. Was it too much to ask for a few days of rest before the next battle?

Come home.

No, I resolved, ignoring the voice. I didn’t have a home anymore, no matter how much I longed for one. Each time I thought of home, I remembered the kiss of a stranger that had saved me from near death, but feared the repercussions of survival. Easier to keep on the road.

I stepped up to the counter as my turn came, offering up as true of a smile as I could. The woman behind the glass display case of pastries smiled back. “How can I help you?”

“I’m wondering if you have any yesterday’s bread for sale?” I leaned forward and whispered, “and perhaps a few hours of work for someone in need of gas money? I promise to leave by nightfall.”

She wasn’t pack, or at least didn’t smell of wolf, though she may have been family to one for all I knew. But she just smiled. “Day old bread is there,” she pointed to a shelf near the register. “We have pastries too, boxed up from yesterday. The second you’ll have to speak to the manager about. I’ll send him your way.”

“Thank you,” I told her sincerely and made my way to the bread. A whole loaf was two dollars. The loaf was also four times the size of supermarket bread. Two dollars was a lot, but I needed food. Something more than a squirrel or rabbit that I could eat on the go. I was tempted to get the cinnamon raisin bread instead of the plain, but knew the added sugar would only make me hungrier. The boxes of pastries, as delicious as they looked and smelled, were well out of my price range. I had ten dollars to my name, and would need a gallon or two of gas if I had to hightail it out of here.

A shadow passed over me as I looked over the bread. The smell of werewolf grew stronger. Not just werewolf, but an appealing musk of a dominant male wolf. If I closed my eyes and breathed in the scent for a while I might have been able to pick out a dozen nuances that made it enticing. Vanilla? Maybe a bit of cinnamon and cardamom? His scent drifted through my senses, awakening a memory of something vague yet familiar, ingrained deep within my brain. I could almost taste his kiss even before I’d seen his face. Strange. It had probably been too long since I’d had proper sleep.

“I’ll give you half off,” a male voice interrupted my day dreaming.

I glanced up, startled to see a tall, clean-cut man with dark blond hair and eyes a pale blue, like a bright sunny day. He wore an apron with a nametag that read ‘Liam’ and underneath written ‘Manager.’ His nostrils flared just a little. He’d obviously scented me. Knew I wasn’t exactly human. The smile on his lips appeared genuine enough, but it was likely something he always wore to greet customers. The curve of those lips drew me in, the bottom plumper than the top. His face was just a slight bit more oval than round, and sprinkled through his dark blond hair were strands of platinum blond. Not in the way of artificial highlights, but almost as though they should have been peppered gray, only they were more a honey-wheat. If he’d had a bit of facial hair, I’d have been jelly in front of him. Not that there was anything wrong with his jaw or sculpted cheeks. I just thought a bit of facial scruff was sexy and made me think of hours in bed, letting that bit of hair tickle my skin.

He was handsome in the sort of way men had likely been fifty years ago, classically good-looking, though there was likely a mix of German and Russian maybe an offshoot of Italian with his mix of dark blond hair. He was movie star beautiful and appeared to be in his late twenties, but I wasn’t fooled. My nose told me he was a werewolf, and werewolves lived until they killed each other or themselves. He could have been in his late twenties, or two thousand and still looked the same.

He wasn’t a big man, though I knew from experience werewolves were good at hiding all their muscle under clothing. He was firm through the shoulders, not delicate or thin in anyway. Solid, without being intimidating. This man came across as normal, handsome, not scary. Which let me know he wasn’t just a wolf, but an alpha.

Something about his presence whispered of longed for things like safety and home. It couldn’t have been just him being an alpha. I’d met plenty of those and known to run right away. Usually my anxiety skyrocketed the second I found myself in the presence of another wolf, especially an alpha. A year on the run had taught me to fear everything. Except this man was beautiful, and while my heart raced, it was with desire not fear. A well of need pooled in my gut for little things, like the need to memorize his scent and bask in the pale blue gaze of his eyes. What would it be like if he held me? How would his lips taste? I was practically drooling on his shoes. Fuck.

My brain automatically shifted me into defense mode.Apahad often called me prickly for just this reason. My self-preservation habits amused him, which in turn annoyed me.

“Is that your way of telling me to get out of your territory? Offering me a discount on bread?” I squared my shoulders and stared up at him. He was probably a good half foot taller. I was used to being short. I’d stared scarier things in the face than him. If he expected the normal submission of a lesser wolf, he’d be mistaken. Meeting his eyes could be seen as a challenge, but it was unlikely he’d call me on it since I wasn’t a wolf. Not unless he was a real asshole. Most alpha’s were, but they were also good at restraint in public places.

The tiny smile on his lips curved up into an amused grin. Apparently I amused him too. He had dimples. The attraction hit me hard. Would he grow a little facial hair if I asked? Not enough to cover the dimples…

I sucked back a groan and reminded myself werewolves were bad news. No matter how pretty they were. I was a novelty to them. Exotic with my half Creole, half Native American bloodlines, hair an odd brown with auburn highlights, eyes tilted and Asian. I was a mutt in all senses of the word. But different than most had ever met. Thewitchbornpart only succeeded in tempting them like a moth to flame.

Werewolves and witches shouldn’t mix. Not that I was really a witch any more than I was a werewolf. The magic was different, dangerous when mixed with other preters. Like oil and water. But I couldn’t deny the blood that ran through my veins. It made me immune to most magics, including the werewolf bits that demanded obedience. Though there was a bit more to that than just my muddy blood.

“If I offer you a free sandwich, will you sit with me and tell me what brought you here?” Liam asked. “You look like you’ve come from adventure and could use a safe place to rest.”

And wasn’t that the truth. I didn’t know where here was, but indulging just sounded like trouble since pretty wolf or not, I would not be staying. I’d learned the hard way that not moving just let danger catch up and new trouble find me.

Something in my gut said,this is home. But that wasn’t right, so I shook it off. “Just the loaf if you don’t mind, and I’ll be on my way. I stopped for food.”

Being near the weres was a bad idea. If only I could find a place on the planet that wasn’t saturated in some sort ofother. Weres were a gossipy bunch and would spread rumors of seeing me that would reach back to myApain no time. And Felix. The thought of him brought the anxiety cascading back in. My arms began to ache. Fuck, I needed to go.

“You asked Colleen for work,” Liam said.

“She must have misheard. I’m just passing through.”

“And what is your destination?”

Anywhere but here, I thought. “Canada,” I told him then snagged a loaf and headed toward the counter. Now that I’d mentioned Canada I’d have to turn back and go the opposite way. Maybe down through Mexico. Though that was too close to home to be comfortable. I could have used a couple of hours of work and cash, but that had been before I knew an alpha managed the place. It didn’t help that my body was screaming at me to throw myself at the man. Something about his scent made me think of rolling in his sweat and basking in his sex.

Instinct.

Stronger than I’d ever experienced before. I hated it, but still had yet to perfect ignoring it. He probably wasn’t even interested in me. Most alphas were the hetero type. All else was taboo and to be hidden behind lies and secret encounters. I refused to be that lie anymore.

Liam followed me to the counter. He stepped behind the register and rang up the bread. I handed over my ten, the last of my money, and hoped a couple gallons of gas could get me somewhere quiet. He counted back my change, but instead of handing the bread back, he pulled out a large bag, stuffed a box of day old pastries in it, added the bread to the top and pushed it across the counter. He held the handle out for me.

I hesitated. Free stuff meant favors owed. It was never good to bewitchbornand owe someone a favor. People tended to ask for stupid things like love potions and spells to bring back the dead, none of which I could do. My magic was a little more subtle than that.