SHADOWS OF A WOLF MOON Book 5: RISE OF THE ARKANSAS WEREWOLVES

Chapter One

“There are rules in the world of stripping. Rule number one: don’t use your real name.” Catty Steele kept her voice and expression neutral, despite the overwhelming urge to shake, scream, and shove the new stripper out the back door before she could made the biggest mistake of her life.

She knew better than anyone that each person made their own choices.

“Not sure I would have chosen Bambi for my stage name. I, personally, would have gone with something a little more creative.” The music from within the club vibrated the tubes of lipstick on the various vanity tables, and the air hung heavy with the stifling stench of cigarette smoke.

“Bambi is my real name.” Bambi’s chipmunk voice matched the look in her doe-like eyes. Good thing making money at a strip club didn’t depend on the sound of one’s voice. With platinum-blond hair and a body straight out of
Hot Rod
magazine, Bambi would make a lot of money.

“Isn’t Catty your real name too?” Bambi’s perfectly plucked brows drew together as she blew a bubble with her gum.

“My real name is Katy.” The invisible thread around her heart tightened, filling her with a burning pain. The old familiar ache associated with the reality of what she’d done. How she’d thrown away a normal life and cut ties to her country-clubbish family to work in a strip club in New Orleans. The worst mistake of her life. “I changed it to Catty when I started stripping.”

“Ah.” Bambi popped her gum and looked down at her costume, a dark green bikini with sequins across the top. She looked back up at Catty and smiled a childlike smile. “I love green. It’s my happy color.”

Catty wanted to tell her it didn’t matter what she liked. It was all coming off in ten minutes in front of some overweight guy with bad breath and grabby hands.

“Rule number two.” She held up two fingers. “You can touch the customer, but the customer can’t touch you.” It was a rule few followed in the darkest corners of the club. She was one of the few, and that was why she avoided the shadows.

“But that’s not what Meadow said.”

“Don’t listen to Meadow.” She lowered her voice, letting Bambi know she was serious. Meadow was taking money for blow jobs in the back room. Catty might take her clothes off, but she sure as shit wasn’t going to sell her body for all the money in the stripping world.

“Meadow will also tell you that you don’t have to pay income tax. Which brings us to rule number three: always pay your taxes. The IRS is a bitch to deal with if you don’t.”

“Got it.” Bambi looked over her shoulder to the far side of the dressing room, where Celine, the club manager, was watching them with an impenetrable glare.

“I don’t think Celine likes me. She’s already screamed at me twice,” Bambi whispered.

“Celine screams at everyone. Don’t piss her off and you’ll be fine.” It was rumored Celine had been a stripper years and years and years ago, but age and nicotine had not been kind to the woman. Being around gorgeous young women didn’t help her ego.

Bambi cast an unsure glance across her shoulder to the manager.

“It’s not you, Bambi. Celine doesn’t like anybody. Do what she says, stay off drugs, and be here on time. She might not be anyone’s Aunt Bessie, but she’s fair and doesn’t tolerate disrespect.”

“Five minutes, Bambi.” Celine’s husky voice cut through the noise of the dressing room. The dancers continued buzzing around the room, changing into the next costume, putting on another layer of lipstick, and checking their boobs in the mirror.

“How do I look?” Bambi propped her hands on her hips and waited expectantly.

“You need a smaller top.”

“But this one is my size.” She spread her arms and looked down her body.

“That’s the problem. You need a smaller size. You need a top that your boobs spill out of. Guys aren’t coming in here to see a Miss America pageant. They come here to see boobs. Lots and lots of boobs.”

“Bambi! Move your ass!” The tone in Celine’s voice had all the girls taking cover at their makeup stations.

“Here.” Catty grabbed a tiny black bikini top off a hanger and tossed it at the girl. “Put this on.”

“But it won’t match.”

“Doesn’t matter.” She shot her a glare.

Bambi obediently changed into the smaller bikini top. “It barely covers my nipples.”

“That’s the point.” Catty waved her away. “You need to get going before you piss off Celine.”

“Thanks, Catty.” Bambi walked toward the stage.

“Another werewolf to the slaughter.” Jill eased up beside her and gave her shoulder a nudge. Her light brown hair had been styled into long curls that cascaded down her back. Her makeup, complete with a smoky eye and dark red lipstick that accentuated her full lips, made her look like a model on a runway. She wore a barely there white halter top, bikini bottoms, and tall white boots. She looked like every man’s erotic dream.

“Nah. She’s not like us. She’s human.” Catty sighed and sank onto the stool next to her makeup mirror.

Jill sat on a nearby stool, her light brown gaze assessing and cautious. “You okay?”

“I should have encouraged her to leave, to go home and never come back here.” She looked in her friend’s eyes. “It’s dangerous enough for females like us. I can’t imagine being a human and working here.”

“You know as well as I do she wouldn’t have left. If anything, it would make her want to be here even more.” Something flashed behind Jill’s eyes, something resembling regret.

“I know, I know.” No need to make her friend feel bad too. “What do you have?” Her gaze landed on a white gift bag perched in Jill’s lap.

“It’s a little something for you.” Uncertainty flickered in Jill’s voice. Catty couldn’t decide whether it was excitement or nerves.

“What is it?”

“It’s my favorite stilettos.” Jill reached in the bag, pulled out the coveted red shoes, and dangled them in front of Catty.

“I can’t take those. They’re your favorite. Besides, you need them to dance in.”

“No, girl. That’s the other part of my surprise.” Jill put the shoes back in the bag and set it on the floor. She turned and took Catty’s hands in hers. “Tonight is my last night.”

“You’re leaving?” Her heart stuttered and tripped in her chest.

“I’ve saved enough money for junior college. I start in a few weeks. I’m going to be a nurse.” Her eyes and voice brimmed with excitement.

“Wait. What?” Between the white noise buzzing in her ears and the music in the club, maybe she hadn’t heard correctly.

“Try not to look so surprised.” Jill chuckled.

Catty forced the muscles in her face to cooperate into a smile. “I can’t believe you’re leaving.” She wrestled with the panic growing in her chest. If Jill left, she’d truly be alone. “I had no idea you were even interested in being a nurse. I just thought…”

“That I was content to be a stripper forever?” Jill teased.

“No, I didn’t mean it that way, it’s…” She was happy for her friend— deep down inside, she truly was. She just didn’t want to lose her.

“As you know, I had a pretty rough time. Being strung out half the time didn’t help either.” Jill lightly fingered the silver cross pendant hanging around her neck.

“So what made you decide to leave?” Catty’s heart beat a little faster. She wanted to know the defining moment of choosing a different life.

“I guess I got sick and tired of being sick and tired. Know what I mean?” She lifted her chin and met Catty’s gaze.

Catty knew exactly what she meant. These past few months had her entertaining the idea of leaving for good. But she didn’t have a solid plan. Where would she go? What would she do?

“It’s not too late.” Jill leaned in. “You’re not that pissed-at-the-world girl anymore, Catty. You need to leave and go live your life.”

“I don’t know.” Fear gnawed at her gut. She couldn’t go home. If her parents found out she’d become a stripper, they would be devastated. It was a paralyzing fear that kept her tied to this shit hole.

A tiny shard of hope rose up sharply in her chest. Maybe, just maybe, she could get a do-over, a second chance, and change her life forever. She couldn’t go home, but she could make a fresh start somewhere new.

“Girl, I don’t even know how you ended up here in the first place,” Jill whispered as she looked around. “You’re different than us, Catty. You were meant for way better things than this. You don’t belong here. You never have.”

Catty shifted in her seat. How could she tell her friend she’d gotten into stripping because she wanted to be seen? To be acknowledged? Growing up in a family that was all about high standards and achievements had been like a prison. She’d chosen this career out of her own selfish need for validation.

It all seemed so childish now.

The pain of her brother finding out what she’d done was enough to suffocate her in guilt.

“Leave, Catty.” Jill lowered her voice. “You know as well as I do these wolves here are up to some seriously bad shit. Not even the Guardians can help us. Not that they even come in here anymore.” She glanced over her shoulder and lowered her voice even more. “I’ve heard rumors that any dancer seen with a werewolf outside this club will be punished and the wolf killed in front of her. It’s not right. If Big Mike is willing to kill a male Were, what makes you think they won’t do the same to you, honey?”

The number of werewolves far outnumbered the humans at the Triple X. To her boss, the humans posed no threat. It was the Weres he watched. She knew Big Mike didn’t mind the girls dancing for the werewolves, as long as none of them got involved. But this was the first she’d heard he would kill another male.

Catty blinked back the sting of tears. Getting involved with Big Mike had been the biggest mistake of her life. They were no longer dating, but her gut told her he wouldn’t hesitate to hurt her if he was pushed to that point.

“Here, you need this more than me.” Jill unhooked her necklace and pressed the cross into Catty’s sweaty palm.

Catty let out a shaky laugh and studied the cross gleaming under the lights. “You think God can save me?” She’d been forgotten by God a long time ago.

Jill grinned. “God can save your soul, no doubt about that. But the silver will save your ass.”

Chapter Two

Lucien Sauvage held a two-by-four over his head and nailed it into the skeletal wall. He blinked the sweat out of his eyes and wiped his grimy forehead.

The blistering Arkansas sun was unforgiving, branding everything it touched with fingers of heat.

It was hot. Hot as fuck.

“You need help with your wall?” Jaxon walked over and held out a water bottle. Lucien gritted his teeth, shook his head, and kept hammering.

“I don’t need your help, Jaxon.” He never did. He preferred doing things on his own.

“It’s about time you got your lazy ass out of bed,” Lucien added. “The rest of the Guardians have been here since six working. You’re two hours late.” He didn’t keep the irritation out of his voice. The heat combined with Jaxon’s interruption made him almost unbearable to be around. Not to mention he was roasting in his leather jacket. Being a werewolf didn’t help matters since his body temperature ran a few degrees hotter than a human’s.

“It’s not like I’m getting paid to be here. It’s for charity.” Jaxon tugged his shirt over his head and tossed it on a stack of lumber.

“You better get used to manual labor, pretty boy. Skylar is hoping once this house gets up and running she can build more like it to help house abused girls.” Skylar was the mate to the Guardian Zane. After being abused as a child, Skylar wanted to protect other girls, so she’d started her own charity, Skylar’s House.

“And even if you don’t have a charitable bone in your body, you should be concerned about the bet you made with Damon and Jayden. If they get their walls up today before us, we’re buying their beer.” The heat in his body matched the heat in his tone, and it took all his restraint not to punch Jaxon for including him in the stupid bet. Instead, he hooked the hammer in the waist of his jeans and grabbed another two-by-four. The quicker he could get done, the quicker he could leave. He could almost feel his blood thickening with each drop of sweat squeezed through his pores.

“Relax, man. We can still win. You’re just letting the heat get to you.” Jaxon shielded his eyes with his hand and leaned against the pile of neatly stacked lumber. “It’s hot as hell and you’re still wearing that damn leather jacket.”

“Fuck off, Jaxon.” Lucien’s words came out fiery and explosive, and to a stranger, it would have been a warning. But Jaxon was no stranger and he certainly didn’t heed any warnings.

“Always the Lone Ranger. I don’t know how you do it, bro. I bow to your badassness in all your black leather.” Jaxon bent at the waist and gave him a mock bow.

“What are you doing, Jaxon? Kissing Lucien’s ass?” Barrett Middleton, Pack Master of Arkansas and leader of the Guardians, walked up with a load of lumber balanced on his shoulder. Judging by his tone, he was clearly not amused.

“He’s being annoying as hell.” Lucien grabbed another piece of wood and nailed it up. “By the way, Jaxon, badassness is not a word, dickhead.”

Lucien would love to take his jacket off. He would love to be hauling wood around in nothing but jeans and boots. He would love to be like the rest of the Guardian brothers. But he wasn’t like these
Guardians. He was different. They all had futures. His had been stolen by someone he’d trusted with his life. He couldn’t trust anyone, and without trust he could never truly be part of their brotherhood.

Not now.

Not ever.

“Dickhead isn’t a word either. It’s slang.” Jaxon opened a box of nails and handed it to Lucien.

“Dickhead’s a word.” Lucien picked up another piece of wood and prayed the werewolf would just leave him alone. He liked alone.

“He’s right,” Barrett deadpanned.

“No shit?” Jaxon turned and gave Barrett his full attention.

Barrett whipped his phone out of his back pocket and hit a few buttons one-handed. He turned, shielding his phone from the glare of the sun. The lumber swung in Jaxon’s direction. Jaxon ducked just in time to avoid getting whacked in the head.

“Watch your wood, man.” Jaxon backed up a few feet and scowled.

“Believe me, Jaxon. You’re the last person on earth I want touching my wood.” Barrett’s dry tone pulled a reluctant smile from Lucien.

Barrett looked back at his phone. “Dickhead. Insulting term for people who are stupid or irritating. Synonyms include asshole, bastard, cocksucker, motherfucker.”

“Cocksucker’s in the dictionary?” Jaxon eyed the phone.

“Dude, does it matter?” Lucien cast a glance at Damon and Jayden. They were almost finished with their walls. “You’re lagging behind.”

“Can I see that?” Jaxon grabbed for Barrett’s phone, but the Pack Master held it out of his reach.

“Don’t even think about it,” Barrett warned.

Jaxon was constantly pushing the boundaries with the Pack Master, and Lucien couldn’t understand why Jaxon couldn’t just keep his head down and work. Life was not one big joke.

“Hey, Damon, did you know cocksucker is in the dictionary?” Jaxon yelled out across the work site as he walked toward the others.

“Yeah. Right under Jayden’s picture.” Damon hammered a nail into the wood with one hit. Quick as a snake, he drove another nail.

“Hey, Lucien, looks like you’re buying the beer tonight.” Jayden’s smack talk had Lucien bristling. “You want us to send Jaxon back over there or you want us to keep him? We could use some amusement while we win.”

“Keep him.” Lucien hammered another piece of wood into place. He swiped his hand across his wet forehead. “Maybe he’ll distract you guys and I can catch up.”

A little past noon, Lucien walked past the line of Harleys to the truck. He grabbed an ice-cold water out of the cooler, leaned against the tailgate, and took a long pull from the bottle. His sharp gaze took in the steady hum around the work site and the acres and acres of sprawling green land surrounding the future home for at-risk girls.

Nostalgia washed over him, reminding him of childhood, of family, of home.

Barrett climbed out of the driver’s seat and made his way to the back of the truck.

“It’s odd.” Lucien straightened and stuck his hands in his pockets. His carefully guarded thoughts had slipped out as words.

“What’s odd?” Barrett grabbed a water and joined him at the tailgate.

“The Pack.” He shrugged, trying to loosen the weight that had suddenly settled on his shoulders. “It’s more of a family than most people have.”

It was more family than he’d ever have.

“True.” Barrett, as usual, kept his tone neutral. It was hard to get a read on his Pack Master. Barrett never spoke of his personal life or where he’d come from. It didn’t make much difference to Lucien. Barrett had a reputation as one of the most respected and trustworthy Pack Masters of the Southern States. It carried a lot of weight with Lucien.

“Family isn’t always blood. Sometimes blood will let you down.” Barrett’s voice carried an undercurrent of an unspoken secret. A secret only they shared.

“They’re not supposed to.” Heat flared in the center of Lucien’s chest and spread like a trail of gasoline, growing and licking at his heart. He downed the rest of the water, hoping the coolness would quench the anger that had been building beneath the surface for years.

“If you stop expecting shit from people, then they stop disappointing you.” Barrett crossed his arms and kept his gaze on the Guardians, assessing the work of his men.

Lucien’s breath grew too fast, too hot, too ready to fight. Righteous anger settled over him like an old musty blanket threatening to cut off his breath. “You don’t understand. My future was taken from me. My destiny stolen.”

Barrett pushed off the truck and stepped in his space. One of Barrett’s qualities was never showing emotion. But now, standing in front of Lucien, emotion was written all over him, from his pissed-off expression to his hands curled into fists.

Barrett leaned closer, eyes narrowed, jaw clenched. “No, you don’t understand. You’re expecting something you won’t ever get. It’s one thing to cut someone out of your life, but you’ve not even done that. You keep expecting something from your brother you won’t ever get. It’s going to destroy you. You have a family here, in this Pack. This is your family, your real family.”

“He owes me.” He spat the words out and anger boiled in his heart.

“Your bitterness where your brother is concerned will be your Achilles heel if you don’t watch it, Lucien. Your wounds will always be there. But if you keep this up, it will scar your soul and then there will be no coming back from it. Be better or be bitter. You can’t be both. Make up your fucking mind.” Barrett shot him a glare and then walked toward the front of the truck.

Anger pounded in his chest like fists in a bar fight as he watched Barrett get in the truck and drive away. Rage pulsed under the surface of his flesh, and all he wanted to do was shift. He refused. He needed to remain in control. He squeezed his eyes shut and trapped the wolf inside.

“What’s up, man?” Braxton slapped him on the back.

Lucien growled and rounded on his fellow Guardian.

“Whoa, bro.” Braxton held up his hands in defense. “My bad.” His eyebrows drew together. He searched Lucien’s face. “Everything okay?”

Braxton, the werewolf with the sleeve tattoos and blue hair, had recently been inducted into the Guardians. He knew from what Braxton had shared that his family life hadn’t been pretty. In some aspects, he could relate to the guy.

“Sorry, Braxton.” Lucien swallowed back his rage.

“Anything I can do?” Braxton eyed him carefully.

He shook his head. “No. I’m good. Just need to get back to work.” He walked back to the work site and picked up his hammer.

Busy was good.

Busy kept him distracted.

Busy kept the ghosts from his past from resurfacing.