2. Azzie
Two
Azzie
If anyone told me a few years ago that I’d become numb to a hot stranger waving his barely-covered junk in my face, I’d have told them they were delusional.
Yet here I was, in the middle of a loud strip club, a godlike specimen of a man dancing less than a foot away, wearing next to nothing, and I was bored out of my fucking skull. The only thing keeping me from yawning was the concern that something might work its way free of that G-string and slap me in the open mouth.
Tori leaned into me, nudging me playfully with her shoulder. “I think he likes you.”
“I think he likes the dollar bills you and your friends are throwing at him.” Despite my cynical retort, her comment made me smile.
She was getting married in a few days, and this was her bachelorette party. The tiara that sat crooked on her head and the feather boa wrapped around her shoulders weren’t unusual for these parties, but the costume kitty ears that held the tiara on, and the tail she wore, were accessories I hadn’t seen on previous clients.
“More money means more peen?” One of her friends—I was pretty sure this was Gwen—pulled a fresh handful of ones from her purse. Even in the dim lighting, it was obvious her full cheeks were flushed from the alcohol.
Our dancer stepped from the stage and approached our table, swinging his hips with every step. He leaned closer to her. “For you, I might do it for free.”
She giggled, tucked a strand of hair behind her ear, and tucked more cash into the elastic of his G-string.
Yeah, he was definitely here for the money.
He tugged Tori’s tail. “Are you a good kitty?”
“She’s the best.” This was the other friend, Jaycee.
She’d told me she was the quiet friend . Except that she was three margaritas in, and decorum was vanishing.
She handed the dancer a larger bill. “And she wants a lap dance.”
“I don’t.” Despite the protest, Tori leaned back when the dancer draped his arms loosely around her neck and continued the grinding.
I laughed along with them.
Technically I was here for the money too. I’d never met these women before tonight, aside from a conversation I had with Jaycee a few weeks ago when she hired me. But to anyone who didn’t know us, I was one of the girls, having fun and enjoying the sexy naked guys.
Unlike my clients, I wasn’t drinking. And at the end of the night, after they were safe in their hotel room, I’d be on my way.
I earned a living as a friend for hire, and the job was frequently bachelorette parties. I’d come along, enjoy the party, stay sober, watch my clients’ backs so they could have fun without worrying, and kick anyone’s ass who tried to fuck with them.
The best thing about drunk best friends who were celebrating? They welcomed me as one of their own for the night, no matter who they were the rest of the time. How pathetic was I, that I did this as much to pretend I had some close friends for a few hours, as I did to pay my bills?
“I’m not the only good kitty.” Tori pulled her headband off and shoved it onto my head. “Abbey’s the best.”
I didn’t correct the name, since it was the one I’d given her. When I started doing this years ago, I’d used my real name. It took about three jobs to realize that once people were three sheets to the wind, they couldn’t pronounce Azzie, and people struggling with my name shattered the illusion that I was one of them.
So I gave them a name that sounded like mine—made it easier to remember who I was for a night—but was more normal.
The dancer turned toward me. “Ginger kitty?” His tone was teasing, as he tweaked one of the stuffed ears on my head. A glint flashed in his eyes. It looked like he was playfully licking his lips, but really, he was running his tongue over his teeth. Specifically two sharper-than-normal canines.
That confirmed what I’d suspected based on his taut muscle, grace in his movements, and the tattoo-like mark on his bicep. He was a Berserker. And in this shape—slender but strong—he was the kind of warrior who turned into a wolf, rather than a bear.
That and his mark—one that many Berserkers wore to tie them to a pack—had a wolf in the middle.
“I bet yes.” Tori laughed and tugged at my red braid. “This is your natural color. Carpet matches the drapes.”
Jaycee’s grin was fixed to her face. “Ginger kitty. Ginger kitty.”
“Are they right?” The dancer asked.
Tori had been right about him flirting with me. I gave him a wink. “Hard wood.”
The party I was with howled their appreciation, and I couldn’t fight my grin. This was fun.
The dancer’s growl was more primal and made my blood run cold. But he moved on from me, back to the other women, who were happy to shower him with tips and praise and tentative touches.
I downed my overpriced bottle of water and waved the waitress over for another.
When the dancer was gone, the women I was with gave their enthusiastic attention to the next couple of dancers, before I announced in the friendliest way I could that we should get going. I could stay here all night and pretend I was one of them, but this was another part of my job—getting them to their rooms safely before they drank themselves into comas.
There were grumbles, but all three of them joined me outside the strip club. This town was small enough that we were walking to their hotel. Not that we’d find a taxi or Uber out here.
I laughed along with them as they stumbled finding their footing with the first few steps, but they managed to right each other as wewalked down the street toward the hotel.
“Did you get his number?” Tori asked. “Did you give him yours?”
I shook my head. “I promise he didn’t want it.”
“He did.” Gwen tried fumbled several times to as she failed to clasp her wristlet shut.
I gently took it from her, closed it up, and secured it to her wrist again. “If anything, he wanted to pin me to a bathroom wall and take a bite of me.”
“Ooh, sexy sexy sexy.” Jaycee spoke in a sing-song voice.
Maybe. Fifty-fifty chance that was a literal desire on his part. It was my understanding that Odin created Berserkers centuries ago, to be his warriors in battle. The few that survived until now tended to long for war. Real, drag-out, knock-down fights, where they didn’t have to hold back.
Not a lot of those going on these days. Not of the hand-to-hand-combat variety.
At least, not the kind where a literal Viking who turned into a wolf or bear didn’t look out of place.
Their desire for a fight also tended to make them sadists in the bedroom. Which was really only fun if they had control of themselves. Fifty-fifty chance there, too.
And I couldn’t tell these women a single bit of that, because they lived in a world where magic belonged in fairytales and wolf shifters were for movies and books, and they wanted to find that one perfect, magical vagina they could devote eternity to.
Fuck , my cynicism was winning out. I wouldn’t be fun if I slid into that.
“You need the tail to go with your ears.” Tori’s announcement caught me off guard. She yanked her shirt up, exposing half her stomach and the bottom of her boobs.
I didn’t want to know if any of the few other people on the street were reaching for their phones. I tugged down Tori’s shirt again. “I’m okay without the tail.”
“No you’re not.” Tori fumbled with her belt buckle and managed to undo it with minimal effort.
“You’re really not,” Jaycee said. “You’re sad. Tails make everyone happy.”
Did they? They were fun to tug, if they elicited a groan in the bedroom. “It clashes with my outfit.” Was that a legitimate excuse? I had no idea. My jeans were meant to be baggy enough to move in, but the fabric dense, to act as a lightweight armor.
“Pink goes with everything.” Tori yanked the belt off with a grunt and held the woven pink strap up in the air, the fuzzy tail half-sticking out like a distorted hunting trophy. She shoved it at me. “You have to wear it with the ears.”
I couldn’t be irritated with the request, as ridiculous as it was. I’d only be one of them a little longer. Instead of arguing, I wove the belt through the loops on my pants and fixed the tail into place as best I could.
Gwen leaned in to straighten my headband. “There. Pretty ginger kitty.”
“Pretty. Pretty.” Jaycee clapped.
I rolled my eyes, but I was smiling. Most of my life, I’d been on the run with my mom. Hiding. Moving the moment she thought someone might have found us. That made it hard to make friends, let alone keep them. The closest thing I had to companions were the masters who taught me various fighting styles, wherever we went.
Like Rayne, the elf who made my magical daggers. Who taught me to use them. Who I dared call friend. Who was cut down in front of me, and who I had to watch bleed out while her killers walked through a door and vanished before I could retaliate.
Fucking fae.
“ Ouch .” Tori’s yelp broke me from the memory
Shit. I was gripping her arm too hard. I forced a smile. “Sorry.”
“Are you all right?” Jaycee was serious again.
“I’m good. I promise.” I really was. In this moment, these were my friends.
Less than fifteen minutes later, we’d reached the place they were staying, and I waited outside their room while they unlocked the door. “Are you sure you don’t need a ride back to Salt Lake tomorrow?” Gwen asked.
I nodded. “Positive. I’ve got a job further west.” I didn’t, but I’d find something. Or I’d stick around here for a little while. This seemed like a good place to find new clients.
Tori threw her arms around my neck, startling me. “Thank you. You were awesome.”
“No problem.” I squeezed back and tried to be kind about extracting her from me. “Have a great wedding.” I reached for the ears. “And you should take these back.”
“No, you keep them.” Tori nudged me away playfully. “You make a good kitty.”
Whatever.
But the brief exchange warmed me.
I made sure they were secure in their room, and then headed to the lobby. After a brief conversation with the nighttime security guard, I had a promise to keep an eye out for them, and my job was done.
Usually I could ride the high of a night like this for a few days, living in that warm, fuzzy, not-so-lonely zone.
Tonight the pit inside was already back. Why?
Probably the Berserker. Well-hung fucker. Maybe I could go back to the club and see if he wanted a nibble.
Bad idea.
Instead, I wandered, and my mind tormented me by doing the same.
I lost my mom a few years ago. Sometimes I tried to pretend I didn’t know how long it had been, but I knew the exact date. Five years ago, right before my twentieth birthday, cancer took my mother and only friend from me.
Sure, we’d had some rough patches. My mother was a seer—she could see the future—and her visions were vivid and all consuming. They wore her out. They beat her down. They showed her that I would become one of the most powerful beings in the world and that others would come after me for it.
Great thing to tell a four -year-old. And Mom never stopped driving the point home.
My feet carried me without me giving them guidance, and the heat that lingered in the asphalt permeated my skin. We weren’t in Vegas, because Gwen insisted we needed a place where they could drink and see peen.
Which was why we were in one of the smaller Nevada towns with looser rules.
Speaking of rules… this heat sucked. New rule for me: no more parties in miserable hot desert towns if it wasn’t February.
I wasn’t afraid of walking alone at night any more than I was worried about protecting a group of drunk-off-their-asses girlfriends. Mom made sure I was prepared for my ascension, and I knew how to fight in more styles than most people knew existed. The pair of daggers strapped to me were backups if my hands and feet weren’t enough.
During my various training sessions, I’d learned my mom wasn’t the only one who had visions. Among the others were three dragons—at least dragons were real, and that was pretty cool. They’d seen modern life, millennia ago. They’d seen me .
I wouldn’t believe it if I hadn’t been a firsthand witness to my mother’s visions.
The dragons saw me meeting someone else like me. My equal but opposite in every way. Cryptic fucking words. And he and I would try to kill each other.
Yay .
The same prophecies said that my mother would somehow fuck an imprisoned goddess of chaos, to give birth to me. That had happened—a goddess who was sealed away from the world had reached out to Mom, because my mother’s gift made the walls between worlds and magical prisons thinner around her. I wasn’t the result of a virgin birth, but the fact that half of my parentage was godly reinforced Mom’s insistence about my destiny.
I tried not to think about that part of my bloodline too much. That I was descended from chaos and destruction. That if my other-mother was ever freed, she might rain down darkness on the world not for her imprisonment, but just because she could.
That wasn’t one of my prophecies though. Some of the other things mine said were that gods would hunt me. That Loki himself would try to destroy me before I brought him to his knees.
Not movie-Loki. From what I knew, the real thing was far more willing to kill for the Hel of it and laugh it off after.
Double yay .
When my feet stopped, I looked up. It took my eyes a moment to focus. Weird . The neon sign had a cowboy on a bucking horse and proclaimed itself the B really met his gaze.
He leaned across the table and plucked the ears from my head. “It’s in the headband.” He snapped the kitty ears in half, separating them, and a shower of gold sparks burst free, floating in the air and vanishing.
“What?” This didn’t make sense. My mind was slipping away fast.
He held up his right hand, revealing a thin silver band around his pinky. “Magic ring.”
“Magic roofie?” My tongue felt heavy. He must’ve transferred the spell at the club when he tweaked the ears. “What the fuck?”
He shrugged.
The more my vision blurred, the more wicked he looked. Like a devil in wolf’s clothing. “Why would you tell me…?” Talking was hard. The headband was gone, but the drug was already in my system.
“Like I said, I like a fight. Do me a favor and don’t pass out yet. It’s not as much fun if you don’t remember this part of the conversation when you wake up in the cage.”
The cage? My laugh slipped out.
“What’s so funny?” He asked.
“I’m a potential,” I mumbled. “It’s not like you can kill me.”
“I don’t want to kill you; I want to fight you,” he said. “That’s the entire reason you came to my town.”
Did he growl?
No, that sound didn’t come from a wolf. It was a bear. There was someone else with him.
Not with him. Picking him up by the shirt and tossing him across the room.
The new guy was big. Really big. Fill-the-camera-lens big. The thought would have made me laugh if I was capable. I wasn’t looking through a camera.
There are fates worse than death . Rayne’s voice from the past, her final words to me, echoed in my head, before my world went black.