Page 9 of Psycho

Psycho looked at Wizard but gave him a strange look before he said, “You can go.”

Wizard nodded and walked off, typing on his tablet.

Psycho returned his attention to me, leaning forward on the chair and resting his forearms on his knees. He looked too casual to be the head of a werewolf biker gang. “Do you feel comfortable telling me about what happened?” he asked.

I shook my head and pulled my knees up again, then wrapped my arms around them. “No, I don’t. I just want to go home.” I cringed at how childlike I sounded, but it was the truth. I hoped this big, bad man had a soft side so he would take pity on me and just drop me off at a bus station or an airport. I glanced around the space to see various men and some women looking at me. They looked away when I glared back.

Just then, Cutter came over and dropped off two plates of food. My stomach rumbled at the sight of grilled cheese and tomato soup. The Reaper whatever gang had fed me cold pizza after they let me use their shower. I’d eaten a few bites. The bastards who’d taken me only fed us once a day—if they felt like it.

“Do you want something to drink?” Cutter asked.

“Just water,” I replied, though a drink did sound good right about now, but I needed to keep my wits about me.

“A beer,” Psycho replied, and Cutter walked off.

“Your guys always wait on you hand and foot?” I asked, narrowing my eyes.

His sandwich paused at his mouth, he said, “No. But we don’t get visitors very often, so we’re all trying to be cordial and shit.”

I glanced at the food but didn’t pick it up. Cutter came back with a bottle of water and I cracked it open, guzzling down half in one sip.

“Whoa, you might wanna slow down there, larkspur,” Psycho said, wiping his mouth and beard with a napkin. I made a face. I wonder how much food gets lost in that thing?

He was right. I felt like I was going to puke. I took deep breaths and nodded. “I’m just so thirsty.”

“Please eat something, just a few bites. You have to be starved.” Psycho gestured at the food and ran his gaze over my physique.

Reluctantly, I picked up half of the sandwich and took a bite. They weren’t kidding. That Cutter guy could cook. Different cheeses along with butter and sourdough exploded on my tongue and I bit back a groan. I looked up when I heard chuckling.

“Good?” Psycho asked with a smirk.

“Yes,” I admitted. “Thanks.”

He was quiet as he watched me eat. It didn’t really make me uncomfortable, because despite him being a werewolf, that was the only thing about him that unnerved me.

Finally, he spoke. “Nera.”

I narrowed my eyes at him and swallowed a bite. “What?”

“I need you to tell me everything, start to finish,” he replied.

I chewed the corner of my lip, debating. Why wouldn’t they just buy me a plane or bus ticket to Tampa?

“Listen, if you just let me use your phone or a computer, I can try to access my bank account and buy my own ticket. Or Venmo you or whatever if you buy me one. Really. Then I’ll be out of your hair.” I looked up through the large skylights in the ceiling, a full, fat moon staring down at me. “It seems you guys will be preoccupied tonight anyway.”

“What makes you think we’re werewolves?” he asked with a smirk.

Shit. No way was I revealing what I was. “I mean, your patch says Bayou Wolves. Kind of obvious, isn’t it?”

“No other human has asked if we were werewolves based off our club name. Plenty of sports teams use the animal as their mascot as well. So… try again.”

I shrugged one shoulder. “I’m psychic. Your aura is yellow. I have a sixth sense about the supernatural.”

Psycho cocked his head to the side. “So… you’re a witch.”

“Well, that was rude,” I said, picking up my water bottle and watching him over the rim as I took a swig.

At that, he grinned, his full lips lifting on one side and his eyes sparkling with amusement. “If you’re a witch, why didn’t you just, uh”—he lifted a hand and wiggled his fingers—“to get away?”

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