A Rebel Without Claws (Southern Charm #1)

1. ~Ronan~

Chapter 1

~Ronan~

“I don’t know shit about bodywork.”

I watched the vein in my uncle’s temple bulge, his jaws clamp tight, and his pulse jump in his throat. His heart rate picked up speed as he glared at me across the kitchen table, eyes flaring bright green with his wolf.

His fury had no effect on me. Nothing had any effect on me.

Nothing had for a while.

Since Aunt Sarah had had enough of me in Austin and kicked me out, I figured New Orleans was as good an option as any for my new plans. Thankfully, Uncle Shane had agreed to let me crash at his place till I got on my feet again.

Besides, I’d worn out my welcome in more ways than one in Austin.

“Ronan.” Uncle Shane blew out a heavy breath, clasping his hands around his coffee mug on the table. “You don’t know shit about shit. Except how to get drunk, get arrested, and get your face beat to hell.”

I grinned, the cut on my lip stinging. “Don’t worry. No matter how bad I look, I won the fight.” I win all of them, the legal and illegal ones.

“That’s not what I’m worried about.” He growled. “You need to find a place in this world, son. A future. One that doesn’t include prison.”

I’d heard this speech more than once from many different people—my juvie parole officer, my high school art teacher, my grandfather, my aunt, and now Uncle Shane.

“No offense”—I leaned back in the kitchen chair—“but my dreams never included getting greasy working in a garage.”

“You got other options I don’t know about?”

Not yet. But I would soon enough. My lengthy pause seemed to answer his question.

“That’s what I thought. As long as you’re here, you’ll work for your room and board.” His scowl deepened. “And we do more than fix cars. Our custom paint jobs are the best in all of Louisiana. From what Sarah told me, you’re pretty talented.”

“I don’t do that for customers,” I snapped.

That was for me, and me alone. My muscles locked, tension straightening my spine.

I didn’t like people knowing or talking about my artwork. It was private. I sure as fuck wasn’t going to dance to some rich dude’s tune who wanted skulls and flames on his three-hundred-grand Harley.

“Fine.” He stood and set his cup in the sink. “You’ll work with Ty. He’s in charge of the engine work.” He grabbed his Blood Moon Body Shop cap off the counter. “Be there in ten.” Then he slammed the door behind him.

Heaving a sigh, I let my new reality sink in. I knew enough about mechanics that I was comfortable with cars, but I’d never done bodywork, and I had no interest in learning a new trade.

What I wanted to do was scout out New Orleans for their ring and find partners for my own team.

Later.

Now, I had to get my ass in gear and make Uncle Shane happy so he didn’t kick me out before I had another revenue stream coming in.

I splashed my face and checked out the purple bruise on my eye that was fading to green, then ran wet fingers through my hair.

After pulling on my jeans and a Bad Omens T-shirt, I headed out the door. Uncle Shane had built his house on the property next to his body shop. The rest of the pack lived close by on the Westbank of New Orleans, though Ty had told me yesterday when I met him that he lived in the city.

I strode across the two acres to the shop, a radio playing Puddle of Mudd in one of the open bays. The sun was barely up, but it was already around seventy. Summers in Louisiana weren’t much different than in Texas, it seemed.

As soon as I stepped into the first bay, Ty popped up from an open hood. “Morning. I heard you’re with me today.”

“You’ll probably be holding my hand for a while.” I headed around the old Camaro he was working on.

Ty smiled, wiping his hands on a rag, wearing the BMBS coveralls with the howling wolf emblem. “You know anything about cars? ”

“Enough. I refurbished my Bronco.” I gestured toward my uncle’s white house where my ’71 Ford Bronco was parked.

“Still needs a paint job.” He leaned over the engine of the ’68 Camaro. “We could do it here.”

“Not sure I could afford the shop’s prices.” I’d seen some of the invoices stacked on Uncle Shane’s kitchen counter.

“I’m sure you’d get the family discount.”

I wasn’t so sure. I peered out the open bay at my Bronco with its worn, rust-brown paint job. “She looks rough, but she rides like a dream.”

“Good to know you’re good on engines.” He walked to the wall of tools that stretched across two bays in the back of the garage. “That’s mostly what I handle. A lot of the jobs we get are for bodywork only—interior and exterior finishing. But nine times out of ten, we’ll find that they’re in need of work under the hood too.”

I walked around to the open hood. “What’s the issue with the Camaro?”

“The guy swapped out the two-thirty engine for a three-ninety-six, and the radiator can’t handle it.”

“You’ll need to change out the transmission, too, with an engine that size.”

“Exactly.” He glanced at me appraisingly. “I just got the radiator in and was changing it out. Transmission won’t be in for a few days.”

“Cool.”

I settled in beside him and helped, though he didn’t really need me. Still, I was going to do what I was told to make Uncle Shane happy .

Contrary to what my family might think, I didn’t enjoy disappointing the people I cared about. Seeing the hurt look on Aunt Sarah’s face when she told me I had to leave had gutted me. She didn’t want to kick me out, but she had two young pups to raise, and I wasn’t exactly the role model her boys needed. I just didn’t care enough to change who I was. Moving on was always easier.

“What happened to your face?”

“I ran into a fist or two.”

“Do that often?”

“Often enough.”

Ty was tall and lean-muscled, built like a welterweight. The deep claw-shaped scars down one side of his throat told me he’d been in a fight before.

In the wolf ring, fighters could unsheathe claws and use teeth. Their opponent just had to be fast enough to get out of the way. The fact that I’d never used either and was the champion of south Texas proved I was the best.

Knowing Louisiana had yet to outlaw wolf cage fighting opened a door when Aunt Sarah kicked me out and Uncle Shane agreed to take me in. After a search on the SuperNet revealed there was an established ring in New Orleans with a statewide undefeated team, I knew what my next goal was.

“Damn, man.” Ty glanced up at me, pliers in his hand. “I can hear your wheels turning. Something on your mind?”

“Always.”

He didn’t push for more. I’d known Ty less than twenty-four hours, but he seemed a trustworthy guy, and I had to trust some- one to get the information I needed.

“Hey, so where do the younger wolves hang out? Bars and stuff. ”

“How young do you mean?”

“Like our age.”

He grinned and walked back to the workbench behind us. “I’m forty-one.”

That shouldn’t have been shocking. Werewolves aged slowly, our lifespans five to seven times longer than humans.

“You don’t seem it,” I told him.

Ty carried himself like a wolf in his twenties, like me. “I’ve been told.”

He leaned under the hood again. “I’m not a club scene guy. The Cauldron is a cool place. Live music on weekends. It’s owned and run by our local Enforcer.”

“It’s a bar?”

“A pub and restaurant actually. Lots of our kind frequent there.”

“Good to know.” Because I would not be going to this Cauldron place. I’d rather stay off the radar of the Enforcer of this city.

“Zack and Bowie are always dragging ass when they work early-morning shifts. I’ve heard them mention a club called Howler’s.”

“Let me guess. Werewolf-owned.”

He laughed under his breath. “Yeah. Bowie has a paint job to finish this afternoon. You could ask him about it then, see if it’s what you’re looking for.”

I helped him replace the radiator on the Camaro and while he was rambling on about a Corvette we had coming in tomorrow, a scent caught my attention, sweet and warm like the desert rose that grew back home .

I peered around the open hood and— holy fucking shit .

Standing right inside the second bay in the sunshine, talking to Rhett, another shop guy who handled the customers, was the most stunning woman I’d ever seen.

She held a tablet, showing something to Rhett with a stylus in her hand, her brow pinched in concentration. Her heart-shaped face was tipped up, freckles sprinkling her nose and cheeks. A pile of wavy copper hair was twisted in one of those knots, a curly strand blowing across her lips.

Rhett studied her tablet, saying something I didn’t give a shit about. All I could do was stare at her. Inhaling a deep breath, I tried to catch her intoxicating scent again. She was a witch, for sure. I detected that particular designation right away. Usually, that would be enough to have me dismissing her. Witches didn’t typically give werewolves the time of day. I closed my eyes, focusing on the way my bones suddenly felt heavy, my skin too tight, my blood thick and pulsing with a dull throb. I’d never had a visceral reaction to meeting a woman where I felt incapable of looking or moving away. I hadn’t met her yet, though. Opening my eyes again, my fascination amplified at the way the sun glowed around her like a halo.

What kind of witch was she? Maybe it was her powers that had captured me so completely. She must be an Influencer. A Warper, some called them, witches who used their magic to persuade people to do anything they wanted. But I hadn’t even talked to her, so how could she be using her magic to influence me?

She shifted from one foot to another, and my body stiffened, readying itself. But for what ?

Then she tucked a curl behind her ear and licked her lips.

I groaned.

“Dude, pick up your jaw, stop looking, and don’t even fucking think about it.”

“I can’t stop looking and thinking. God. Damn. ” I pressed a hand to my sternum, suddenly having heartburn.

Ty huffed and whispered, “You’re a dead man if you even try.”

“Is she taken?” Something pinched inside my chest at the thought.

“It’s not a boyfriend you have to worry about.”

“Who then?”

“For starters, her very protective father, who would gut you where you stand if he saw you drooling over her. Then there are her two brothers. Diego would rip you a new asshole. Last but not least, there are her many uncles, who include two old and powerful vampires and two grim reapers, one of whom could turn you into dust. Literally.”

Not one thing he said deterred me from my new mission. If anything, it spurred me on. I liked a challenge. I loved the forbidden.

And that goddess glowing in the sunlight in pink cutoffs and a floral tank top was the most bewitching forbidden fruit I’d ever wanted to taste.

“Don’t do it,” warned Ty under his breath.

I ignored his warning and walked closer, unable to stop my body from moving toward her. Rhett had just stepped away to the workbench on the far wall.

She sensed my approach and turned her head in my direction. Her emerald eyes struck me near dumb. When I was finally within two feet of her, I forced my legs to lock in place, because my natural urge was to step right up to her and wrap her close, then take a deep whiff of her drugging scent. That certainly would not make a good first impression.

She observed me carefully with intelligent eyes, taking me all in. I was at least a foot taller than her, but she didn’t step back or look away. I liked that. She didn’t intimidate easily, and I was a lot to take.

“You’re an Influencer, aren’t you?” “What makes you think that?”

I swallowed hard, tongue-tied, because I couldn’t tell her the truth. “You’re not?”

“I’m an Aura.” She smiled, raising gooseflesh on my arms.

I liked the way her eyes tilted up at the tips when she smiled.

I rubbed my sternum. The heartburn was back. “I’m Ronan,” I finally said rather dumbly.

“You’re trouble.”

I chuckled. “Nothing you can’t handle.”

“How do you know? Maybe I’m the wilting type.”

“No. You’re not a type at all.”

“What am I then?”

I shook my head, drinking in her beauty. “The kind of woman to make a man’s world stop turning.”

Her lips parted, pupils dilated, breath quickened, and heartbeat thudded faster. All the signs of attraction. Her reaction curled inside me, tightening my body, ensnaring me even more.

She tilted her head and held out her hand. “I’m Celine.”

I reached out, my hand engulfing hers, and brushed my thumb over her soft knuckles. My pulse grew loud in my own ears as it raced faster, my head dizzy with desire. And confusion.

Because something happened then that hadn’t since the night in Amarillo when I was twelve.

From the deepest part of me, a sizzle of magic warmed my blood, awakening as I—stunned and spellbound—held this young woman’s hand. I didn’t understand what was happening at first, but then he made himself known. I’d thought he was gone forever, but there was no mistaking his presence. Out of the dark, my wolf locked on Celine . . . and growled.