each other. For weres, none of these idiots feel dominant. They’re more like betas or omegas, sure to be mowed over by the seasoned weres in Aric’s pack.
“Why so much?” the weremongoose in the orange T-shirt polo asks.
I roll my eyes. “Cause it’s witch’s brew, dumbass. One bottle is all it takes. Do you want to pour human beer down your throat all night and still not get a buzz?”
“Uh, no?”
“Then one hundred for one bottle, bro,” I tell him. I take another look at him. He’s not really the “bro” type. More like the second cousin twice removed who likes to eat sand when no one’s looking.
A smaller wolf eases forward. “You don’t understand. We’re part of the pack,” he says. “Your pack.” He points to the first guy. “And he’s a pureblood, one of the last few left.”
I grin. “Pureblood, huh?” I ask. They nod, expecting me to bow or some shit. I lose my smile. “Then he can afford it.”
When they just stare, I push off the bar and throw my hands up in surrender. “If you can’t handle the brew or the price, I can whip you boys up some Shirley Temples on the house. After all, you are pack.”
The so-called pureblood sighs and whips out his card. “We’ll take four,” he mumbles.
I take the card and print out the receipt. “Don’t forget to leave a tip,” I say, giving him a wink.
Before lowering to the floor to unlock the brew safe, I steal a glance at Emme. Her face is still flushed but better. I’m no longer worried she’ll keel over from all the manly, male hormones I hit her with when I kissed her.
What the hell’s wrong with me? I kissed Emme. Emme.
Maybe it’s been too long since I got some. Wait, didn’t I just bang Sally a few weeks ago? Or was it Jennifer? It couldn’t have been that good if I can’t remember her name. Maybe that’s my problem. I barely have sex anymore, and when I do, it’s all about what I can do for them. Word spreads quick when you’re hung like a bear instead of a wolf.
The spell the witches cast over the safe takes a moment to recognize me before it clicks open.
“Yo, dude,” Houndstooth guy says. “How you coming along with all those brewskies? Your boys are thirsty.”
I sigh. I should punch him in the face just for just saying “brewskies.” Instead, I take the higher road. “You want the beers?” I ask.
“Yeah,” they all say.
“Then shut up,” I snap.
See? I can keep it classy.
I reach for the first beer. It glows when I touch it. I don’t want the damn bottle to explode in my face and give it a second for it to allow me to take it. That’s right, “allow.” The witches who made it don’t just want anyone to handle their stash. Witches need to get paid.
I pop the cap when the warning it emanates lessens and ease the bottle onto the bar. “Wait,” I say when Houndstooth tries to snag it. “This is the real stuff. If you grab it before it’s ready for you, you’ll be wearing it.”
Houndstooth huffs, trying to look tough for his friends and whips the beer off the bar. The brew gets angry and the lot of us end up sprayed.
From across the bar, a werehyena laughs, setting off his friends. “Brew Virgins,” he calls out.
I swipe my face with a clean towel, watching as the wolf and his boys lick the trickling beer from their lips. Their eyes widen and their pupils immediately dilate.
“Whoa,” Orange Polo says. “This is some good stuff.”
“You’ve never had witch’s brew before, have you?” I ask.
Houndstooth goes all red in the face. “No,” he admits.
“First lesson,” I say. “Respect it and the magic it took to make it.”
“Yes, sir,” he says. He passes me his card. I pass him a towel to clean up his mess.
I stop in place when I see the hyena make his way to Emme. He offers to buy her a drink. She politely declines, her attention on me. I’m not sure what the hyena catches in my face, but it’s enough to send him and his buddies in the direction of the band and away from Emme.
Good boy. Smart boy. Stay away and everyone will keep their limbs.
I bend and reach for the next brew. Emme looks damn sweet tonight. I mean, she always looks sweet, but it’s like, everything about her is different. She’s a