The Mane Attraction

  Roxy stood, tugging her dress back into place. All those voluptuous curves, the woman knew how to work a wardrobe. “Come on, baby girl. Let’s get you a real drink. I know I could use one.”

  “I better not. I’ve already had two ... or three.”

  “What’s one more? Don’t worry.” She grinned, and Sissy would swear she saw fangs peeking out of her gums. “I’ll watch out for ya.”

  Mitch was being thoroughly entertained by Ronnie Reed’s uncles and brothers getting sauced on the homemade ’shine they’d brought from Tennessee when he saw Dez MacDermot strut out of the ballroom. He liked Dez. She was a good cop. Little crazy, but you had to be to do the job.

  “All right, gentlemen. Let’s go.”

  “Go where?” Rory Reed, Ronnie’s oldest brother, asked way too loudly. Wolves ... they simply could not hold their liquor.

  “Out front. The bride and groom are leaving, and there’s a whole tossing of flowers and garters thing that’s involved. So let’s go.”

  “The flowers are fake,” Mitch reminded her.

  “You’re gonna start with me now, cat? ’Cause I’m tired and cranky, and the chocolate is wearing off.”

  “I see why Mace loves you.”

  “Yeah, yeah, yeah. Fuck youse, too.”

  Mitch and the Reed boys laughed as they followed Dez back into the castle. You really could take the girl out of the Bronx but not necessarily the Bronx out of the girl. Dez proved that.

  As they headed toward the front and the throng of people blocking the entrance, Dez motioned to Mitch. “Could you take care of Sissy before her mother sees her?”

  “Where is she?”

  “Over at the back bar.” That didn’t worry him. It was her next sentence that caused the intense panic. “With your mother.”

  Mitch stopped cold and grabbed Dez’s arm. If he didn’t know better, he’d swear she was moments from going for the piece she had hidden on her somewhere.

  “Say again?”

  “Sissy’s with your mom. Roxy, right?”

  “What she’s doing with her?” Mitch knew he sounded desperate, but didn’t Dez see the recipe for disaster this was?

  “Drinking, last I—where are you going?”

  Mitch ran, cutting past people and trying to pretend nothing was wrong. Especially when he saw Miss Janie. Her eyes narrowed, and her gaze immediately scanned the crowd, looking for Sissy no doubt. Moving past Ronnie, Mitch tugged her hair and motioned to Sissy’s mother. It took her a second, but then she was up and moving, stepping in front of the woman before she could go looking for her daughter.

  As Dez had said, Mitch found Sissy and his mother in the back bar.

  When she saw him, Roxy stood and smiled. “There’s my baby-boy!”

  “What did you do to her?” he demanded.

  Sissy’s head rested on the bar, her body moments from sliding off the stool.

  “Just getting to know baby-girl here.” Roxy grabbed his arm. “I like her, Mitchell. She’s smart and funny and sturdy. You know what your Uncle Joey says.”

  “No! We’re not discussing Uncle Joey now.”

  Mitch grabbed Sissy’s shoulders and pulled her back. “Sissy? Can you hear me?”

  Her eyes opened. “Mitchy!” she crowed, and he covered her mouth with his hand.

  “I don’t know why you’re upset.” His mother shrugged. “If you can’t handle her, I’m sure her mother will take her.”

  “Don’t even think it.”

  “Fine.” Roxy shrugged. “Hey, at the very least, I’ve loosened her up for ya.”

  “Ma!”

  Roxy held her hands up. “Just kidding. Gawd! Where did your sense of humor go?”

  “That wasn’t funny.”

  They both heard it at the same time. Ronnie’s voice over the well-wisher’s din outside.

  “I’m sure she’s in the bathroom, Miss Janie. Really!”

  “Why the hell are you yelling, Ronnie Lee Reed?”

  “Move, baby-boy.” Roxy motioned him away, and Mitch immediately picked Sissy up and placed her over his shoulder. He could only hope she didn’t start throwing up.

  “And don’t take her to her room at the hotel. That’s the first place her mother will look.”

  Mitch nodded and slipped out through a back door ... barely missing Miss Janie as she stomped in.

  “I know she’s been in here, Ronnie Lee Reed. I can smell her ... and the tequila!”

  Mitch moved fast, cutting through the castle and out the back. He had to get Sissy’s drunk ass back to the hotel. Of course what he’d do with her after that, he had no idea. Especially when she suddenly blurted out, “You have the best ass, Mitchell Shaw!”

  Christ, it was going to be a long night.

  Chapter 3

  Sissy Mae turned over and buried her head back in the pillows, trying her best to block out the sunlight. Since she’d never been a morning person, Sissy always kept the blinds in her room at the Kingston Arms Hotel closed. Why she didn’t do that last night, she had no idea.

  Well, it didn’t matter. She was too exhausted to care at this point. Exhausted and in pain. Her throat was sore and raw, and her head throbbed. It felt like her brain was rattling around inside her skull.

  It had to have been that last sip of tequila. The one where she clearly remembered saying to herself, “Well, I shouldn’t waste it.”

  Unfortunately, that was the last thing she really remembered.

  No, she wouldn’t be getting up anytime soon if she could help it. And to prove it, she buried her face deeper into the pillow. It felt good to do that, so she did it again. In some bizarre way, the action helped her headache—she’d never call it a hangover out loud—so she did it again. Then she rubbed her head against the pillow.

  It was that scent. She wanted that scent on her. A very shifter thing to do and one she’d never really be able to explain to a full-human without getting that telltale “e www” response.

  As her brain began to slowly process whose smell this could possibly be, she felt the bed dip and a heavy weight rest against her side.

  “Baby?” a deliciously low voice said. “You awake? I need you, baby.”

  Sissy’s eyes snapped open, but she immediately closed them again when bright sunlight brutally seared her brain right inside her skull.

  “Mitchell?”

  “Yeah,” he purred, nuzzling her chin, her ear. “You up for more of me, baby? ’Cause we are so not done.”

  Not caring how much the light hurt, Sissy slammed her hands against Mitch’s chest and pushed him off while scrambling back until her shoulders hit the headboard. Using both hands, she held the sheet under her chin.

  “What the hell is going on?”

  “What’s wrong, baby?”

  She stared at him in horror. “Mitchell Shaw, tell me you didn’t!”

  “Didn’t what?” He crawled across the bed toward her. “Didn’t turn you inside out and work you like you’ve never been worked before? Well, if you’re asking me to be honest, I guess I’d have to say—”

  “Don’t.” One hand released the sheet she had such a grip on to halt his words. “Not another word.”

  “Don’t be that way, baby.”

  “And stop calling me that!”

  He took hold of the sheet and began to pull it away from her. “Don’t be shy, baby. We have no secrets now.”

  This wasn’t happening! This wasn’t happening! She was fully dressed!

  Wait. She was fully dressed.

  Sissy stared down at the clean white T-shirt and white sweatpants. She clearly smelled Ronnie’s scent. These were Ronnie’s clothes. Had to be. Sissy never wore white. She had a tendency to get food on clothes within seconds. And something told her it was Ronnie who’d put the damn things on Sissy in the first place.

  “You are so hot, baby.”

  Slowly, she looked up at Mitch, and forcing herself to look past her hangover, she could see he was fighting hard not to laugh out loud.

>   “You. Big. Haired. Bastard!”

  Sissy launched herself onto Mitch, knocking him off the bed and onto the floor. She punched and slapped at his face, and he held off her blows with those sides of ham he called arms. And it didn’t help that he was hysterically laughing the whole time.

  “I hate you, Mitchell Shaw! I hate you!”

  “You love me, sweet cheeks! Admit it!”

  “One day,” she told him between blows, “you’re gonna meet me in hell! And I’m gonna kick your big, white ass!”

  “Last night you told me it was the best ass!”

  “Shut up!”

  He grabbed her wrists and turned, putting her on her back with him between her legs. “Are you going to keep fighting me, or you going to admit I’m your lord and savior?”

  “Blasphemer!”

  “That’s what the priests all said.”

  “I should tell my daddy to kick your ass.”

  “He’s on vacation. With your mother. Remember?”

  And like that ... all the fight went out of her. “She’s gone? Really and truly?”

  “Really and truly.” He leaned in and kissed her nose. “Now are you going to keep fighting me, or are we going to get some breakfast?”

  “Breakfast, you evil bastard. But this will not be forgotten.”

  Grinning, Mitch released her wrists and easily got to his feet. He reached down and grabbed Sissy’s hand, pulling her up.

  “You sure you feel okay?” He still held her hand. “I was just messing with your head.”

  “It was mean.” And she shrugged. “Of course, when I think about it, I have to appreciate the evil of it.”

  He moved closer. “So you’re not mad at me?”

  “I should be—” Sissy looked up into Mitch’s handsome face, and her words died in her throat when she saw something there she didn’t see very often—maybe because she’d never really looked before. She saw desire. Pure, clear. It was there on his face and the way he stared at her lips.

  She swallowed and was about to lick her suddenly dry lips, but quickly realized that would probably be a bad idea.

  He let out a sigh. “We have to go, don’t we?”

  “Yeah. We do.” She did, right? Somewhere in the universe, it would be considered the right thing to do. Only she couldn’t remember why it would be the right thing to do.

  “You’re right. I know you’re right.” He shook his head the tiniest bit. “It’s a real damn shame, though, huh?”

  “Maybe. For all I know you’re a dud in bed.”

  “Now see, that was just cruel ... and challenging.”

  Laughing, Sissy playfully swiped at Mitch’s head. He ducked it, his body moving to the side a bit to avoid her swinging arm and then ... then everything went weird. She heard small pop sounds, and Mitch pitched forward, slamming into her and dropping them both to the floor.

  “Lord, Mitchell! What are you—”

  Then she smelled it. The predator in her could smell it—and hungered for it.

  Blood.

  Mitch’s blood.

  “Mitchell?”

  She gripped his shoulders, and immediately, she felt blood drenching her right hand. Pushing him onto his back, she straddled his waist and looked down into his face.

  “Mitchell?”

  He opened his eyes, looking up at her. “Get out, Sissy,” he managed. “Get out now.”

  “You don’t get rid of me that easy, darlin’.” She examined the length of his body and immediately spotted his cell phone. He used it for personal calls, but it was set up for their business, too.

  She used the walkie-talkie part of it.

  “This is Sissy. Answer back.”

  Her brother was a brilliantly distrustful man, and he’d arranged for security from the time guests began to arrive on Long Island until everyone had left. She’d never been so grateful.

  “This is Té, Sissy. What up, girl?”

  “Té, I need you to get Mace and Brendon to Mitch’s room now. He’s down, bleeding from his neck and shoulder.”

  Her voice no longer relaxed, the six-foot, six-inch She-bear answered back, “Hold.”

  Sissy pulled the sheet off the bed and shredded it with her claw. She took several strips and pressed them against his neck and shoulder. She was more worried about the neck.

  “Mitch darlin’, I need you to stay with me.” She made her voice commanding, although she felt like a panicked mess. “You just keep those freakish cat eyes on me.”

  He did, but she knew it was a challenge for him. He wanted to sleep.

  Té came back on the line. “Sissy, you there?”

  “I’m here. Go.”

  “We’re moving.” That’s all she said, and that’s all Sissy needed to hear.

  “No hospital,” Mitch told her, his gold eyes staring at her. And she knew he was right. She couldn’t take him to a hospital. Not a regular hospital anyway where their ability to protect him would be seriously limited.

  Into the phone, she said, “No ambulance, Té. No cops.”

  “Got it.”

  “I need to go home, Sissy. I’ll be safe at home.” She somehow doubted that, but she wouldn’t argue the point with him.

  “I’ll take care of everything, Mitch. Don’t you worry about a thing, darlin’.”

  “You need to go.”

  “You know She-wolves only do what we want. We’re difficult that way. So you just think about holding on for me, darlin’, and let me worry about the rest.”

  She didn’t know how long it took, maybe two minutes, but it felt like thirty hours until that hotel door was kicked open and Mace walked in. Dez was behind him wearing only a long T-shirt that had “I love my Rotties” emblazoned across the front. Sissy almost laughed, which seemed really inappropriate at the moment. Typically, Dez was well armed with a .45, and she slowly moved to the window, keeping close to the wall and out of the direct line of fire.

  Mace crouched down by her and Mitch.

  “No ambulance,” Mitch said again.

  “Don’t worry, kid,” Mace told him. “We’ve got it under control.”

  But the strips of sheet she’d balled up and pressed against his wounds were already saturated in blood, and blood covered Sissy’s hands, up her forearms, damn near to her elbows.

  Dez walked back over. She glanced down at Mitch before heading to the door. “I’m checking outside.”

  “Dez—” But Mace didn’t get to finish since she was already gone.

  Suddenly, Brendon and Marissa were there, but without Ronnie, which struck Sissy as really odd. Mace moved so Brendon could get close. Marissa didn’t say anything, simply braced her back against the wall, wrapped her arms around her stomach, and stared. Sissy could see the terror in her eyes, in her pale face. She was terrified for her baby brother. And she’d probably never admit it.

  The brothers locked eyes, and Sissy felt the connection that went through them. She had it with Bobby Ray. That connection that went beyond simple blood ties and to something so much deeper.

  Brendon took Mitch’s hand in his own and held on tight. “We need to get him out of here.”

  “No ambulance,” Mitch repeated. “No police.”

  “We can’t leave him here,” Brendon said calmly. “Do we know a local doc?”

  “I don’t,” Mace said. “But I’m sure—”

  Ronnie ran in, and behind her were Mitch’s mother and Gwen.

  Roxy motioned Brendon away and crouched next to Mitch. She pulled the pieces of sheet away and examined his wounds. “I need water. Gwen, go to the car and get the kit.”

  Gwen moved without question, and Ronnie swept up the ice bucket before heading into the bathroom to get the water.

  Roxy grabbed clean strips of the ripped up sheet and pressed it against Mitch’s wounds. She called Sissy over with a tilt of her head. “Hold these against his wounds until I tell you to stop.”

  Sissy nodded and did as she was ordered.

  No more than two more
minutes passed before Gwen came back into the room with a metal box, “First Aid” written in red on the top. She popped the clasps and pulled out a huge roll of gauze. Ripping off strips, she handed them to her mother.

  By then, Roxy had her water. She pushed Sissy’s hands away and carefully wiped off the blood. More seemed to pour out, but her expression never changed. She looked intensely interested but nothing more. She didn’t show any signs of panic or fear or rage. She simply cleaned her son’s wounds and examined the area.

  “I see three entrance wounds. The one on his neck is mostly a graze. The other two ...” She reached under Mitch’s shoulder, managing to ignore the way he winced, and felt around. “Yeah. They went through. Which is good. Won’t have to dig around.”

  She gripped Mitch’s shoulder, and he snarled at her. “Yeah. The bullet hit some bone on the way through. That’s gonna hurt like a bitch when it heals.”

  She grabbed more gauze and again put pressure on the wound. “Sissy.” Immediately, Sissy replaced Roxy’s hands with her own and applied pressure.

  “Gwen, what have we got in the kit?”

  “For closing his wounds?” Gwen looked inside without waiting for her mother’s response. “We’ve got your staple gun.”

  And Mitch snarled again.

  Roxy patted his head. “The last thing we need is for him to heal over those. They’re a bitch to get out after. What else?”

  “Butterfly bandages.”

  “Perfect. We’ll work with those.”

  “Why not stitches?” Brendon asked, pacing restlessly while he watched.

  “I don’t know when they’ll get taken out. And again, I don’t want his wound healing over them. Gwen, take Sissy’s place. You’ll help me.”

  Sissy stood up and moved out of Gwen’s way. She stared down at her blood-drenched hands, quickly realizing the white sweats she wore were also covered in blood.

  Mace took her elbow and steered her toward the bedroom door. The last thing Sissy saw was the tears streaming down Marissa Shaw’s face before Mace pulled her into the small living room of the suite.

  “Talk to me.”

  She shrugged. The blood was drying on her hands and arms. Right now, it was sticky. Soon it would be dry and—