Wolf Gone Wild

“There is none,” she scoffed. “That’s what I’m saying.”

“I can help you with that.” Travis grinned down from his bear-like stature at Clara’s side.

“I’m sure you could,” she said, flashing him a smile that probably wasn’t intended as flirty but had a devastating effect anyway. “I can take care of myself in other ways.”

“Gross,” said Drew. “That’s a picture of my cousin I don’t want in my head.”

“I don’t mind it.” Travis sipped his drink, mischief in his eyes. Such a flirt.

“So are you guys here for a while?” asked Violet. “We can take you guys out like last time.”

“Afraid not.” Drew cased the room, probably looking for his annual coven hook-up. A few couples danced on the small dancefloor set in the middle of the room, swaying to a slow Billie Eilish song. “We’re still playing catch-up at the brewery from when Isadora and Livvy visited. Orders have been stacking up.”

The three of them owned and ran Bayou Brewery just outside Lafayette. That’s actually where we got our specialty beers like Witch’s Brew and Gator Trail. And of course, we got the family discount.

“Evie,” Cole whispered next to me and pointed. “Jules wants you.”

“You can receive messages, too?”

Cole was an Influencer, what used to be called a Warper, like Livvy. Influencers had the gift of planting thoughts in other people’s heads so they thought they were their own. An additional part of their magic, if they were strong enough, allowed them to speak telepathically to other people. But it was a one-way connection, unless it was two Influencers communicating back and forth.

“No,” he chuckled. “She waved over here and pointed to you. But I did confirm.” He tapped his temple. “She needs to speak with you.”

“Excuse me, guys.” I made my way across the room, around another cluster of guests—coven members from north Louisiana—till I was standing next to Clarissa and an older gentleman I’d never met. If he was graying as a witch, that put him in the upper two hundreds at least.

“Eveleen, I’d like you to meet my father, Perry Baxter,” said Clarissa. “He’s visiting from London.”

He shook my hand. “Pleasure to meet you.” He was all polished aristocrat, his accent making him sound that much more sophisticated.

“Nice to meet you, too.” Jules had already warned me that Clarissa’s father, a powerful leader of the London Coven, would be here.

“He was just saying what an exciting city New Orleans is,” added Clarissa.

“Yes, I enjoyed a show at the Saenger Theatre last night and dinner at Commander’s Palace. I’m not sure if I’ve had a better meal in all my life.”

“That’s definitely one of our finest restaurants,” said Jules.

“What show did you see?” I asked.

“Waitress. Very good show, even though it wouldn’t have been my first choice.”

“Dad,” Clarissa chastised him. “Be nice.”

“I’m always nice,” he said with a gleam in his eyes that told me that wasn’t necessarily true. “I just prefer the classics. Give me Les Miserables or Phantom of the Opera, and the night would’ve been perfect.”

“Why’d you choose to go to that one?” I asked, wondering why he’d picked it if it wasn’t his style. Not that the Saenger had a lot to choose from, but there was definitely other entertainment in the city than go see a show you didn’t care to see.

“We were graciously hosted last night for dinner and the show,” said Clarissa.

“By whom?” asked Jules.

“I’m afraid I’m the guilty party,” came the familiar voice over my shoulder.

I swept closer to Jules to put a little distance between us, but Derek imposed himself by drawing closer inside our circle. And yes, of course, he had a tall, gorgeous black-haired beauty on his arm. Even so, he dropped her arm to pull me into an awkward embrace and drop a kiss on my cheek. “So wonderful to see you, Evie.”

“You too,” I replied, biting back what I really wanted to say, feeling my lips tighten in irritation. It wasn’t just that he had to insert himself into our conversation, but he had to act so familiar with me. Like he still had a right to invade my personal space. Even now, he leaned to the left, brushing my shoulder with his own. But I didn’t want to be rude in front of Clarissa or her father.

“Good to see you, too, Jules.” He leaned across me and shook her hand rather than kiss her hello. He should’ve greeted me the same way. Yeah, we’d slept together for two years, but it was pretty clear after we broke up that our friendly days were over. But I could be civil, as long as he was.

“Aren’t you going to introduce us to your friend?” asked Jules, nodding to the woman at his back.

I swear, Derek was actually blocking her. So rude. If you’re going to bring a date, then treat the poor girl like a date and not your luggage.

“Forgive me. Perry and Clarissa had the pleasure of meeting my fiancé, Millicent, last night. Darling, this is Jules and Evie Savoie.” He stared at me as he swept a hand around her tiny waist. “Millicent, this is the Evie I told you about.”

“Am I missing something?” asked Perry, a calculating gaze sweeping between us.

Before I could change the subject or say something polite, Derek piped up with, “Evie and I were lovers for two years when I lived in New Orleans. Inseparable, at the time, actually. Weren’t we, sweetheart?” He touched my bare elbow with the tips of his fingers, sliding them up the back of my arm until I inched over to break the contact.

Wait. What did he just say? He was going to throw that out in front of everyone? Rude!

“Oh,” was all Millicent could manage as she looked me up and down.

I actually felt sorry for the woman. You bring your fiancé to her first Coven Guild Summit and then embarrass her in front of the president and her father, a bigwig in London? There was no need for him to go into that detailed description of our former relationship. If I didn’t already hate the sight of his face, no matter how good looking he was, I did now.

“That was a long time ago,” I said with bite.

Leaning over to set my empty champagne flute on a tray as a waiter passed, I grabbed another and used the movement to ease away from him so there was a good two feet of distance between us as I faced him.

“Doesn’t feel like it,” he said smoothly. “I can still remember everything clear as a bell.”

He did not just look at my breasts. Douchebag!

Clarissa laughed, albeit a little nervously because this was fucking uncomfortable. “Witches have excellent memories.”

“Too true,” said Jules. “I remember the day Evie broke up with you, Derek. I’d never seen a warlock look so shocked in my whole life.”

I loved my sister with all my heart. Loved her to the moon and back. Because he shifted uncomfortably, tightening his hold on his still-mute fiancé.

“Evie,” he said lightly, which warned me something nasty was coming, even though he seemed distracted, glancing toward the entrance to the hall. “Do you still do your little comic drawings?” He chuckled, and it was a mean chuckle, telling the group he was laughing at me not with me. “Still chasing that little dream?”

Furious heat flushed up my neck and filled my cheeks as I ground my molars together. His ridiculous smirk told me how much he was enjoying this, flaunting something so private of mine in front of this particular audience, the upper echelon of Coven society who he’d wanted to mold me to be like.

In that minute, I realized how wrong Derek was for me. How absolutely miserable I would’ve been if I’d tried to become the kind of woman he wanted. The silent, pretty trophy like the one standing there and taking his shit right now.

Even more infuriating was that I was angry with myself. If I hadn’t let this asshat get to me the way he had, I’d be published already. Diving into that dream of mine without fear. And though I’d gotten the ball rolling since date night at Mateo’s, it wasn’t anything to really brag about. Yet. So instead of snapping back, I stood there and took it, remembering the only reason I was miserable right now was because I allowed it to happen. It was my own damn fault.

His smile slipped, and Millicent’s eyes shifted over my shoulder. Then so did everyone else’s, their jaws dropping, frowns forming. Except for Jules whose death-glare she’d been shooting at Derek vanished, replaced by an arrogant smile. What the hell?

I turned, realizing the room had fallen to a hush. Then I spotted the devastatingly fine man walking across the room straight toward me, and I knew why. Not just a man, a werewolf among witches. My werewolf. And sweet baby Jesus in a basket, Mateo in an all-black, well-tailored suit, striding through the parlor with purpose, his beautiful face set in a dangerous expression as it flicked to Derek behind me.

All I could do was watch him stalk closer in all his glory. When he finally sidled up to our group, he pressed his palm to the small of my back—a firm, comforting pressure—before he leaned in and brushed a slow, closed-mouth kiss to my lips, his dark eyes riveted on mine. It was the kind of kiss that told everyone else in the room they didn’t matter. That they could go to hell. Because all he was here for was the woman in his arms. A riot of feelings erupted in the vicinity of my heart. I’m not going to lie. I wanted to cry on the spot.

“So sorry I’m late, baby,” he said loud enough for the others to hear. “I got held up at the gallery.” Like I’d invited him, and it was his fault he wasn’t at my side, defending me against the dickless wonder standing there with his jaw hanging open.

When Mateo finally pulled away, his palm at my back slid up my spine, behind the fall of my hair, and wrapped gently around the back of my neck. I didn’t bother to look at Derek then because I could feel his eyes burning into my face. I’d also lost my ability to speak since I couldn’t even manage to introduce him. Thank God for Jules.