Page 2 of Hot in Witch City
I huffed. “I don't know what you're talking about, Sebastian, since we haven’t met until now.” Planting my hands on my hips, I said, “Quite an odd first impression, I might add.”
“Sebastian, what’s going on?” Nova’s voice edged up a notch.
His eyes flashed with amber amid the dark brown, and he leaned closer. “It’s your scent.” He inhaled once more. “I know it. I’ve smelled it at our house and—” he glanced around, “—here at the club.”
“Dude, you’re acting strange.” Diego nudged Sebastian’s arm.
A low, vibrating growl rumbled from his chest.
“Get yourself under control,” Lucas warned under his breath.
Holy tridents. I pointed at Sebastian’s chest. “Are you insane? You can’t let your animal side out in public.”
Sebastian’s eyes glowed brighter, almost golden, as he stared at me. He released a low, mournful moan that sounded more wolf than human. “Mine.”
“Oh no,” I groaned and stepped back. A possessive wolf. “I’m most definitelynotyours. And don’t even think about shifting in here.”
It would be bad for business. Even though supernaturals were welcome in my club, they knew better than to reveal their true nature to all.
“I won’t,” he snarled.
“You better not,” I warned. Glancing at the perimeter of the club, I noted the locations of the bouncers, just in case this situation escalated.
“Mae—”Whatever Sebastian was saying rolled from him with a vibrating tone, before he cut it off and his eyes widened with surprised horror.
“Sebastian, are you okay?” Nova asked.
His mouth twisted as he appeared to wrestle for some self-control. “My wolf is all amped up. I’ll get him to calm down.”
“Please do—and fast,” I snapped, my patience wearing thin with this weirdo. “This is my club, and I don’t need any shifter drama.”
Sebastian blinked at me and then gritted his teeth. The unnatural golden hue faded from his eyes. “I’m sorry, Gianna. That was rude of me.” He raised his chin. “Let me start over.” He smiled. “I’m a chef.”
That shift in his disposition was faster than holding a mood ring over a mug of steaming tea. He looked much friendlier than he had a second ago. His rugged handsomeness might have caught my attention if he hadn’t acted so strange. I lifted a brow. “That’s nice.”
“You like to eat?”
I laughed without mirth. “What an odd question. Who doesn’t?”
He pointed to his chest. “I make good food.” His tone was well-suited for the prehistoric era.
“What are you, a caveman?” I teased, calling him out.
He shook his head. “Err, I mean, I can cook you a nice meal, Gianna.”
“That’s okay, Chef Boyardee.” I wagged a finger. “Just try to avoid making a scene tonight.”
I turned to walk away, but he grabbed my hand. “Don’t leave yet.”
I pulled my hand back. “Don’t grab me.” I walked away from them and straight behind the bar, muttering, “possessive wolf.”
Something about the shifter rattled me, starting the moment he’d declared mehis. I’d spent years clashing with my father, a former Marine and current control freak, in my quest for independence. I was not anyone’s, least of all a stranger who sauntered into my club and almost shifted in public.
Frustration simmering, I poured myself a Peaches, the champagne cocktail that was my current beverage of choice. After I took a hearty sip and swallowed the cool bubbly liquid, I exhaled. That was better.
I helped take care of a few drink orders since the bartenders had patrons lined up three deep and then walked away with my glass.
How could Nova tolerate this guy? She’d said such good things about her tenants. Color me unimpressed.
