Chapter 10
JAX
“Have fun, mate.” Otis halts the jeep outside Traggar’s den.
“Really, are you kidding?”
“Nah, I’m not.” Otis punches my arm good-naturedly. “This weekend is going to be just what you need.”
“I hope you’re right,” I mutter. I exit the jeep and walk inside—then grind to a halt.
Traggar has a female with him. They are standing very close together, heads bent over his desk. On the desk is a book that seems to emit a silver light.
The female looks up, she is almost feline in her features. She is not wolf, I know that immediately. Her hair is hidden by a turban, but her ears are long and soft and… tawny red.
“Jax, let me introduce you to Felicia,” Traggar says.
So this is Tippy’s aunt. It makes sense. A fully-fledged wixen, dressed in bright silks, her arms covered in gold bangles. Her energy is powerful and her beauty undeniable.
Tippy will be just like her one day.
I still haven’t responded, I realize as I stare at her.
And then Felicia bounds around the desk, comes right up to me and… hugs me.
I stand awkwardly with my hands at my sides. She smells of an exotic perfume, and her energy is so nurturing that I find myself relaxing despite myself.
“It is lovely to meet you Jax. I’ve heard so much about you from Tippy,” she says releasing me.
“You have?” I grimace.
“Mostly good.” She laughs, easy and infectious.
“Now, I must be on my way. I will bid you adieu and good luck, Jax.”
I manage to quip, “Will I need it?”
“With my niece in control? Oh yes, you most definitely will.” Her amber eyes twinkle as she returns to Traggar’s side.
They exchange solemn words in a language I don’t understand, and then Traggar hands her the book from his desk and their heads bow over it, almost touching. I could swear I see a couple of sparks emanate from it, arcing between them.
Then Felicia clasps the book to her chest and sashays out.
Traggar’s eyes follow her, and for the first time ever, I see something akin to longing on his face. But it’s gone the moment he turns to me.
“You don’t have much luggage.” He eyes my small rucksack. “We’ll walk to your den,” he says briskly. “It’s not so very far, and it will be good for you to burn up some energy.”
I don’t reply, but by the way my heart is pumping, of course the mage is spot-on. I’m wired, and so is my wolf.
We walk through the busy township, into parts of Wofltown I am not familiar with. Traggar points out landmarks as we pass them, the town hall, the statue depicting wolves fight for freedom during the rebellion.
Finally, we reach a wider expanse of parkland, and I halt and look around in awe. The lumen lamps are so bright here that the parklands are lusher and brighter than anything I’ve seen on level one. Then I realize. There are no lamps here at all. I stare around me, perplexed.
“Where’s the light coming from?” I ask.
“There is a high volume of lumen gases in the rock of this area, and the light is made from a chemical reaction within the rock itself,” Traggar explains.
“It allows us to grow shrubs and trees from seeds that were kept from our days on Earth. And the water that runs through the rock here naturally provides the streams you see.”
“Fuck. It’s amazing,” I breathe. “Beautiful.”
“It is, but don’t go too close to the perimeter, way over yonder.” He points to his left.
“What’s out there?”
“Braden lands,” he says grimly. “We’re well separated by barbed wire, but don’t encourage them to interact by going too close.”
I look away. I don’t need to be reminded of the night they attacked me three years ago.
“And over here,” Traggar waves a hand across the street, “is your den for the weekend.”
I turn and see the building he’s pointing at, with its mud brick and beams, nestled into the rock wall. It’s well-lit by the rock behind it, but there are also little fairy lights strung across the front porch.
A white picket fence surrounds a small yard. Flowers bloom around the front porch.
“It’s springtime on Earth right now.” There’s a note of sadness in Trigger’s voice.
“The plants pick up the seasons through vibrations in the rock walls. These vibrations also tells us when the moon is full, when to shift. Soon it will be the Spring Moon Festival, our biggest celebration of the year.”
“When will that be?”
“In three weeks.” He casts me a glance. “We celebrate new life—and love. It’s a time for mating rituals among lovers. Primal chases and the like.”
“Not my jam,” I say, trying to sound disinterested, even though every nerve ending in my body is lighting up at the idea.
Luckily, Traggar doesn’t say any more on the topic, intent now on leading us to the den. We enter, and when I see Tippy standing in the kitchen stirring a green concoction, my breath catches in my throat.
In her simple black leggings and a white t-shirt covered by an apron, her face slightly flushed and her amber eyes bright, she looks so beautiful. She smiles at Traggar, and gives me barely a nod. Her claws flex on the bench top.
“Hi Jax.” Her tone is nonchalant, casual. But my wolf senses her rapid pulse rate and picks up the shallow cadence of her breath.
Normal Jax wouldn’t have noticed, but my wolf does.
And my wolf, damn the beast, likes it. A lot.
“Hi Tip,” I says gruffly, raising my hand in a vague wave. Then, feeling stupid, I push my hand behind my neck as if my intention was always to smooth down my hair.
“Here, drop your rucksack in your room,” Traggar says.
Tearing my gaze away from Tippy, I follow Traggar through the small cozy living area. We reach an animal-skin curtain, which Traggar shifts aside, revealing a tiny room with a very large bed covered in furs. Cozy, but hardly private. “I hope you like it?”
I nod, then hiss-whisper, “Where’s Tippy sleeping?”
“On the other side of the living area.”
“Er, so her room has a skin instead of a door too?”
“It’s traditional for wolves to use goat skins only. You’ll get used to it.”
My wolf growls smugly.
Don’t even think about it, bastard.
“I’ll leave you two to get settled, then.” Traggar smiles, flashing white teeth at me, then at Tippy. And then he turns and exits through the front door. At least that’s a real door, I think. I suppose that’s something.
I dive back into my room and start feverishly unpacking.
It doesn’t take long. I’m used to wearing one color—black, the uniform of a peripheral.
So other than my signature black bike leathers, there are three black t-shirts, tracksuit pants and trainers.
I’d already planned on exercising during the weekend, but add in the adrenalin rush of sharing this confined space with Tippy, and I’m ready to put wings behind my heels.
I feel the bed with my hand. It’s not hard, not soft. Just… perfect. Though I doubt I’ll get a wink of sleep, knowing Tippy is just across that small space with only a couple of freakin’ goat’s skins between us.
I feel like I’ve been sweating from nerves, so I drag off my tee. I’m about to put on another when I hear a voice behind me.
“Here, drink this.”
I turn to see Tippy standing in the doorway holding up a small shot of something bright green.”
I grimace as she holds it out.
“What is it?”
“Wheatgrass.”
I see her eyes flick for to my chest for a moment, taking in my pecs. I must say, I’m happy with how my physique has filled out since my virgin shift. Even without exercising, my muscles are more defined, and rock hard.
Her gaze darkens.
My wolf decides this is the moment to flex my muscles. I see her neck move as she swallows, and a pink tinge rides her cheekbones.
Casually, I loop my hands onto my hips. “You gonna make me?” Shit. that was definitely my wolf speaking.
She tosses her head. “It’s a primer for your gut enzymes. To restore the good bacteria that vaping has robbed you of.”
“I vape into my lungs, not my stomach.”
“It’s all connected,” she says haughtily. “And if you’re going to be a complete ass and argue the toss on everything, this won’t work.”
“Well, thanks for your positive feedback.” I snort. “You’re supposed to be inspiring me, not insulting me.”
She sticks her nose in the air. “I was told to make you potions, not baby you along. If you can’t work out why this is important, then you’re dumber than I thought.”
“You’re right. Okay, you’re right.” I grab the potion from her, and as I do our fingers graze.
Electricity shoots up my arm, and I spill some of the evil-looking liquid onto the floor.
It splats on the flagstones, and she tuts loudly.
“I’ll get a cloth. You can clean up your own mess.
” And off she huffs, that perky white-tipped tail swishing from side to side. “And while I’m gone, put a shirt on.”
My wolf is smirking like crazy. I swear at it quietly and drag a clean t-shirt over my head.
A moment later, Tippy reappears. She puts the cloth on the bedside table and stands there, arms folded, one small foot tapping as she observes me.
I clean up the green splat and hand her back the cloth, careful not to touch her this time.
Still, she stands there, glaring at me.
I raise an eyebrow, trying for nonchalance.
“I’m waiting…”
“Are you seriously going to watch me drink it?”
“Every last drop.”
“Don’t you trust me?”
She rolls her eyes. “No, Jax. I don’t trust you. Or your wolf.”
I guess we both deserved that. A dull heat creeps up my neck. I grab the glass and down the contents, fast.
It’s bitter, unpleasant and no doubt good for me.
My wolf belches. I look into the bottom of the glass suspiciously. “Has this got flax in it?”
“Of course not.”
I’m still not convinced she wouldn’t get back at me with a fart-inducing potion. But I do feel an energizing zing in my veins.
“Now hand them over.”
“What?”
“Your vapes.”
“What, like now?”
“Yep.”
“You’re kidding me.”
“This is a detox program, not a holiday camp.”
“But I thought… I mean, can’t it be a gradual cut-down?”
“We’ve got three days, Jax. You have to go cold turkey.”
I know she’s right. There is no time to take it slowly, but the idea of being here without my crutch from day one, dealing with withdrawal and lust? This is a hard fucking ask.
I sigh, dig into my pocket and bring out my vape. I put it in her palm.
Her little hand remains open. “And the spare.”
“I don’t have—”
“You always have a spare. And the back-up extra spare, too.”
I roll my eyes. How well she fucking knows me.
I dig into the body of my rucksack and bring out the spare. She waits, and with a huff I unzip the front pocket and grab the extra spare. Reluctantly, I put them into her outstretched hand.
“What are you going to do with them?”
“Hide them.”
I watch morosely as she flounces off into her own room.
How the fuck am I going to survive the weekend with an angry little wixen who’s clearly relishing torturing me?
Worse, angry Tippy is actually one hell of a turn-on.
I feel my wolf panting gently, low in my belly.
My fucking dick obligingly wakes up—and my knot with it.
I try to ignore it, but it throbs so much that’s pretty much impossible. I hear Tippy in the kitchen, banging cupboards and clanking pans.
So damn close.
I remember her face when she stared at my pecs, the fleeting look of desire. Perhaps the burden of longing isn’t mine alone to fight.
I think of Otis telling me he couldn’t fight his attraction to Clem. That maybe my wolf intuition wasn’t so off the mark.
What if I just stopped fighting these feelings?
And let my wolf take charge?
What then?