Page 8 of Villainous Fate

He steps toward me, closing the space from the ten feet I’d created and dropping it closer to three.

My wolf rises to attention beneath my skin, and I let a snarl of warning out.

“Last I checked, this was a public place, and,” he slides his wallet from his front pocket, “I’m a paying customer. You. Will. Serve. Me.” By the time the last word is out, he's right in my face.

Every fiber of my being wants to throw him out, to tell him to put his money where the sun don’t shine, but the more logical side of my brain knows I need this job, at least until Deacon gets back from his alliance internship in Florida. I fist my hands, digging my nails into the flesh of my palms. I turn my head away, avoiding the whiskey aroma on his breath and closing my eyes in an attempt to calm my wolf.

I need this job. I need this job. I need this job.

His hand grabs my chin, forcing me to look at him.

“Did you hear me, Splotches? I said you’re going to give me what I want.” A vile grin spreads across his face, and before I can stop myself, my fist slams right into it.

Chapter 4

Deacon

Present

Myfavoritepartofthe day is always picking Grace up from work. As the days grew closer to the retreat, we have had less time together than usual, so getting a little of our routine back is nice.

My cock certainly needs the next forty-eight uninterrupted hours to prepare for the next seven and a half months with only my hand. I hop off my motorcycle, wincing as my legs struggle to hold me after the last ten hours of training. My irritation over not getting to leave with everyone else hours ago boils under my skin, bringing my wolf back to the surface. I can still hear the order from my Alpha as I held my plank for the eighth minute straight.

“I believe having one-on-one conditioning before he leaves would benefit him. I wouldn’t want him embarrassing us with his subpar skills or training. The others can go, but Cadet Marlo will put in two more full cycles before he may be dismissed. And, Enforcer Mikalson, if he quits before then, I would like to be notified, immediately.”

Before I can let anger ruin my mood, I pull myself back to the present and notice for the first time how empty the lot is, save for the lifted, oversized Dodge Ram parked by the entrance.

Fucking Greg.

That dude really had a death wish. He’s lucky he stays the fuck away from me because I don’t give a damn who his daddy is. If he’s bothering Grace, I’ll kill him for fun.

Wouldn’t take long.

Increasing the pace of my stride, I half jog to the glass doors of the cafe, which are typically completely transparent. However, for the upcoming holiday, they are decorated with painted Christmas trees and colored lights that prevent me from seeing inside. Pulling on the handle, I open the door just in time to see Grace’s fist land squarely on Greg’s pretentious jaw.

Atta girl.

I can’t hide the smile that forms on my face, and I take a moment to pause and enjoy the look of satisfaction that spreads across her face as he drops to the floor with a yelp. Her small giggle as she shakes out her hand is the most beautiful sound in the world, and I can’t help but feel proud of how far she has come from the quiet country girl with a sweet southern drawl.

As if she can feel me standing there, her eyes flash up to mine, a Cheshire smile forming before she rushes to me, jumping into my arms and wrapping her legs around my waist, kissing me quickly.

“I’m going to get fired,” she whispers as she pulls back from my lips. Concern is evident in her tone, but the sparkle in her eyes doesn’t diminish.

A groan reaches my ears and reminds me we aren’t alone. I turn my gaze toward Greg. His face is flushed as he pushes off the floor, eyes wild, blood dripping from inside his mouth where I assume a tooth has come loose.

“You BITCH!” he shouts, not even looking at me. “You’re going to regret that you fuckin…” Before he can finish that statement, my fist connects with his right cheek, bone crunching with its impact.

A chuckle from the corner of the room pulls my attention, and I see Pete leaning in the doorway, arms crossed in front of his barrel chest.

“Shift’s over, Red. I’ll take out the trash,” he says, nodding to the human lump on the floor.

“Thanks, Petey!” Grace says brightly before pulling off her apron and walking behind the counter to grab her stuff. I nod my thanks in Pete’s direction and head back into the lot to wait for Grace.

The chill in the air feels comforting as I take in the quiet street. Grace doesn’t drive. Her dad has never allowed her to learn. When she turned sixteen, three months after I did, I offered to teach her, but she was always afraid he would find out. We avoided anything that made him angry for fear of what he might do. He once threatened to leave the pack just so she couldn’t spend time with me. Jimmy Davidson is a mean drunk. She told me once that he wasn’t always like that, but losing his position in his pack changed him.

That’s something I could never understand.

Fuck pack hierarchies. That shit’s pointless.

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