Untamed Fate (Magic Side: Wolf Bound Book 2)

Jaxson

My phone dinged, and I glanced down. Damian.

Viper spotted heading into The Bookshelf. Still there.

Finally, some good news. “Okay, put your claws away. The Viper was spotted at an uptown bar. Time for happy hour.”

Savannah retracted her claws. “Great, I could use a drink after today.”

So could I.

Teaching her how to shift had taken every ounce of control I possessed. My mind had nearly broken when she pressed her ass up against me, and my wolf had howled with need. So now I had to ride beside her, smelling her body and desire, and hating her for it.

Savannah caught up as I headed to the truck. “Where are we headed?” The tension in her voice was palpable. This was what we’d been waiting for.

“A speakeasy called The Bookshelf over in the Circuit—downtown Magic Side. It’s in the basement of a bookstore in one of the older buildings. Supposed to be hard to get into.”

“But that shouldn’t be a problem for you, right?”

“Of course not.”

She looked down at her outfit. She was still wearing Sam’s clothes. “Is it fancy? Am I dressed okay?”

Sam’s jeans gripped her ass like a glove, and just watching the way her cheeks moved as she swayed through the weeds made me want to push her up against the side of my truck. Her sweater was too loose and kept slipping off her shoulder, revealing a smooth stretch of perfect skin.

I was losing my senses and my godsdamned mind, but it was hard to pull my eyes away. “You’ll be fine.”

When we reached the truck, she leaned against the door. “I can drive so you can navigate.”

“Not a chance.”

She twisted her hair alluringly. “Come on, I like your truck.”

“Good.” I unlocked the doors and swung into the driver’s side. “Then load up.”

A tortuous twenty minutes later, we parked along a side street and headed to the bookshop. It was on the bottom floor of an old, art-deco office building in an older part of the Circuit. On the window was an etched depiction of Death reading a book and drinking a cocktail. Underneath, old-fashioned letters spelled out The Bookshelf.

A bell on the door jingled as I pushed through. The place was a maze of overflowing bookshelves that smelled of musty paper.

A red demon with curling horns smiled at me from behind a counter and adjusted his spectacles at the two of us. “Can I help you? We have it all—everything your eyes and imagination could desire.”

The only thing my eyes and imagination desired was my mate. I gritted my teeth. It was like lying down on the tracks and wishing for a train to arrive.

I scanned the place for the entrance. “We’re looking to meet a friend for a drink. I think she’s already here. Which way in?”

The demon folded his massive fingers together. “Do you have a membership or an invitation?”

“No,” I growled.

“Well, then, we’ll have to see if the bartender is interested.”

We didn’t have time for this sort of game. “Our friend is the Viper. She’s waiting for us.”

“In that case, the cover charge is a hundred. Pick a book off the shelf, and I’ll send them down. If the bartender likes them, you can go in.”

I put my hands on the counter and leaned into the face of the large demon. “Do you know who I am?”

He crossed his arms. “Do you know who I am? The guy who opens the door if I want to.”

I growled low, but Savannah put her hand on my bicep. Her light touch cooled my temper even as heat crept along my spine.

“All we have to do is each pick a book?” she asked.

He nodded, arms still crossed and staring me down. “Any book. I’ll send it down to the bartender, and if she likes your taste, she’ll send you up a glass, and you can head down.

Savannah bit her lip, thinking. “What can you tell us about the bartender?”

“Nothing.”

“This is ridiculous,” I snarled. “We’re supposed to be meeting someone there.”

“Well, you can wait until that someone comes out. We have seats in our reading lounge.”

My claws slowly began to extend, but Savannah tugged my arm. “Let’s just do it.”

I turned around, grabbed a book off the shelf, and dropped it on the counter. Savannah wandered to the back, taking her sweet-ass time browsing the titles.

“Just pick one,” I grumbled.

“It needs to be the right one.”

What was it about the woman that compelled her to be as frustrating as possible? After an interminably long time, she came back smiling.

“What did you choose?” Savannah asked me.

“No idea.”

She held up her book proudly. It depicted a bare-chested man with a cropped beard sitting astride a motorcycle. The title was Rumble Strip: Bayou Biker Bears, Book 1.

My mouth dropped. “You’ve got to be kidding me.”

“I like what I like.” She shrugged and handed the book to the man. “Anyway, being in Magic Side has really broadened my horizons.”

But biker werebears? Disgusting.

I crossed my arms. “Let’s get this over with. Time is ticking.”

The bookseller slid aside a panel in the wall and placed the books into a cubby. He closed it and pulled a cord. Soft squeaking sounded as the dumbwaiter descended, and the wheels of my impatience spun. After what seemed like an endless time, in which none of us spoke to each other, the dumbwaiter rumbled back up and dinged.

The bookseller opened the door, revealing two books but only one glass, which was filled with a finger of golden-brown liquid. He handed it to Savannah. “You’re welcome to head downstairs, miss.”

She took a sip. “Whoa. This is nice.”

The demon grinned. “The bartender must have liked your taste.”

“What about me?” I growled, warning resonating in my voice.

He handed me the book I’d selected. “You’re welcome to sit in our reading lounge and enjoy perusing Enchanting Your Yacht.”

I felt my wolf clawing at my chest with irritation.

Rip his face.

Teeth bared, I glanced at Savannah, whose smug expression did nothing to improve my mood.

I slammed my claws into the desk and leaned forward, letting my alpha presence wash over the demon. “You’re going to let us both in.”

The demonic bookseller backed up but didn’t seem entirely cowed. Perhaps he had an innate resistance to being influenced.

Savannah pushed up beside me and wrapped her arm around mine in a way that immediately soothed my temper and aroused my body. “Please. My friend is a bit of a brute, and I don’t think he was taking you seriously. How about I pick one for him?”

The demon, whose sudden nervous eye tic indicated he might be worried I would crush his skull, nodded. “Yes. Let’s try again. Of course.”

I waited while Savannah went to the shelves and quickly returned.

“That was mercifully fast,” I grumbled.

“I saw it earlier and thought of you.”

She handed it over, and the man lowered it in the dumbwaiter.

It came back moments later with a very full glass of whiskey.

He nodded and handed me the glass. I lifted it to my nose. The aromas were bold—honey, almond, and charred oak, with a soft hint of vanilla. I took a sip and let the warm liquid linger in my mouth. “This is excellent. What book did you offer?”

The bookseller held up a book with a couple of sweaty, steroid-pumped, bare-chested, and tattooed men on the cover. Taming Bad Alphas. He leaned forward and whispered, “It’s from our very spicy book section.”

I clenched my fists tightly and glared at Savannah.

She smirked. “It got us in, right?”

The bookseller placed the books on the to-be-reshelved-rack, but she stopped him. “Actually, I think we want to buy those.”

Then she looked at me expectantly.

The gall.

“Fine. Whatever gets us in.” I slapped a fifty down. “Where’s the bar?”

The demon bagged Savannah’s books, then strode over to a shelf of historical fantasy novels and pressed an emblem carved in the side. The shelf slowly swung open, revealing a dark stairwell. A couple of red bulbs flickered to life, and the demon bowed. “Welcome to The Bookshelf. You have ten minutes of happy hour left.”

I pushed past him and headed down the narrow stairs. We emerged into a long room with a bar on the left, booths on the right, and tables scattered around a stage at the back. The place was lit by deep yellow lights, and the walls were lined with dusty volumes. Most people were drinking, though there were a few enjoying a cocktail in the company of a good story.

The tattooed bartender smiled as we approached. “So, which one of you is into Biker Bears?” Savannah raised her hand, and the bartender winked at me. “Then you must be into those baaaad alphas. I flipped through it. That one gets hot fast.”

My fists clenched. I would make Savannah pay for this. Her insufferable smirk was enough to make me want to rip the bar top off. Or her top off.

Trying to maintain some control over my emotions, I pulled out a wad of cash and placed a couple of fifties on the bar. “Two Manhattans.”

“Sure thing.” The bartender turned away and plucked a bottle of vermouth from a surprisingly wide selection on the wall. Manhattans must be their thing.

“Thanks for asking me what I wanted,” Savannah hissed.

“We’re not staying long.”

She pouted. “You’re more fun at your bar.”

I turned and fixed her with a steady gaze. “Because it’s my bar.”

At my bar, everyone knew not to look too long at the woman I was with. Here, all the men kept glancing up at Savannah.

Our mate.

She was not. We hadn’t sealed the bond, and we were going to reverse her condition. But it pissed me off, just the same.

I caught a vampire in the corner gazing straight at her with obvious intentions. He was looking right past the woman he was with and straight at Savannah’s long, elegant neck and exposed shoulder. My claws slipped out, and it was all I could do not to flip his table over and ram a broken-off chair leg through his chest.

He looked away when he caught my gaze. I made sure the message was unmistakable. To my satisfaction, he whispered to the woman that it was time to leave.

While Savannah examined the selection of whiskey behind the bar, I looked around and made sure that every drooling male in the place got the same message: Don’t look. Don’t touch. Or else.