Page 1 of Wrestling With Werewolves

CHAPTER ONE

CHAPTER - LOLA

The cramped dressing room vibrates with the drums and bass playing onstage. Nerves flutter in my belly, my skin peppered with goose bumps. My guard will be here soon—I hope that this time they’re slow enough that I get at least a song or two with my friend Leo’s band before Nuñez forces me home to Santa Alaya.

Standing in front of the ramshackle room’s only mirror, I remove the tiny gold crown from my curly black hair, tucking it into a hidden pocket in my midnight leather corset. Reaching into my bag, I pull out my favorite extra—a gauzy, translucent bustier-style skirt. The front is a simple belt, then fabric drapes in increasingly big swathes to the floor. From the front, the audience will see my black leather leggings and the belt’s gauzy green snaps. But from the side, it’ll trail long like I’m some human princess from a storybook.

It’s beautiful.

A brisk knock at the door announces the stage manager’s arrival. When I open the door, he dips his head respectfully, looking at me from beneath dark brows. “¿Lista, Princesa?”

I rub his shoulder thankfully. “Ready as I’ll ever be. I can’t thank you enough for arranging this.”

Luís, whom I’ve known my entire life, grins at me. “I’m fully expecting a call from your father, so I’m going on vacation for a month right after your set.”

I laugh loudly at that. “Good idea.” I don’t know what my papá will do to me for breaking his rules so thoroughly—again—but I imagine I’ll be locked in the castle until I’m old and gray. It can’t get much worse, though. I already feel like I’m locked in a gilded prison whenever I’m home.

The steady drumbeat changes, and a solo guitar begins a refrain I’ve always found hauntingly beautiful—it’s from a human band called Transcendency.

“That’s your cue,” Luís says, lifting his head. “Knock ’em dead, Princesa.”

Grinning, I spin into the room and grab my turquoise electric guitar. I slip the black strap carefully over my huge hair and wink at myself in the mirror.

“You got this, girl,” I mutter as nerves flutter impatiently in my belly. They’ll disappear the moment I step onto that stage, though. Being in front of people, immersed in the music, it’s heaven on earth.

I scan my face in the mirror, grinning. Dark makeup lines my nearly black eyes. Between the see-through belt-skirt and all the leather, I do look like a princess. A badass rocker princess.

I fucking love it. This is me, in my element, shoving aside shifter court politics and all the other bullshit that comes with being the sitting king’s only daughter.

Turning, I follow Luís out of the dressing room and down a cramped, smelly hallway toward the stage. The scents of stage smoke and hundreds of gathered monsters send a thrill through me, my wolf rising up from my consciousness. Of the two of us, she’s more stoic, but even she loves it when I play.

Luís leaves me just behind the stage curtain. On the main stage, my best friend Leo’s band, The Lovestruck Lobos, plays the stunning first minute of “Crash and Burn.” There’s a fantastic, complicated riff about fifty seconds in where I’ll come onstage with a big bang. Then we duet. Leo’s bass voice is amazing in harmony with my higher tones. I’m biased, of course; I’ve been lucky enough to sneak out and make appearances with the Lobos for the last few years.

Whenever I can escape Papá and Nuñez, that is.

Somehow, I think the way I randomly show up to play actually intoxicates the crowd. Leo says the times I join are always their best concerts.

My fingers dance along my guitar strings in anticipation. Onstage, Leo’s lost to the music, black eyes closed as he sways from side to side. The tattoos snaking up his neck tell the story of his love affair with music, starting from when we were pups. All the women love them. I was with him when he got every single one of them. I never got any, though, because Papá didn’t want me to.

I glance at the audience. From my vantage point, monsters of a dozen or more species are clear. It’s harder to see those standing toward the back, but when the strobes illuminate the crowd, I catch a glimpse of a few vampires, centaurs, and—holy moons! The tiny monster haven of Ever’s elusive Keeper sits at the bar with a stunning red-headed woman in his arms.

Hot damn.

A giant boom sounds from the stage, echoing off the walls and ceiling and forcing goose bumps to the surface of my dark bronze skin. That’s my signal. A joyous smile comes to my face as I stroll onto the stage, grinning at the crowd.

The roar that goes up when they see me overloads me with joy. It sparks and sputters deep inside, my wolf preening at the attention and focus and obvious excitement. My fingers pick at the strings—I’ve practiced this song a thousand times. Leo’s inky eyes flick open and meet mine, wrinkling happily in the corners. At his back, the other three members of the Lobos are way into the music, eyes closed as they rock out.

We’ve been planning this for a while. There will be repercussions; we know that too because there always are. But for now, there’s only the music.

And it is everything to me.

I join them, fingers moving faster on the strings as Leo belts out the bridge. Our notes dance together, rising and falling as the music consumes me. Leo growls into the microphone, the crowd going wild as the song twists and morphs into the chorus.

When I join in, the screams rise louder, my instinct on a knife’s edge. I become the song, pure harmony and balance as we duet. This is it; esto es lo que quiero hacer con mi vida. I want to play, tour, and choose where to go without anyone telling me I shouldn’t or can’t.

“We serve the people, mija.” My father’s voice rings in my head. “Sobre todo, familia.” Above all, family.

Tonight, I only have to serve the music.

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