“Let me carry that bag for you, miss.” Gods, he was all teeth, this one. When he smiled, his pencil-thin, mustard-colored teeth reached too far up his gums. His haggard face matched the odor wafting from him, giving all the signals of a man desperate for another drink.
He was already reaching for my bag as he spoke, which I blocked with my bustle. It was handy like that.
“No, thank you.” I tried smiling at first. “Please leave me alone.”
I stepped back, and of course he followed, his smile souring into a scowl.
“C’mon now, I’m bein’ nice!”
“And I’m about to stop being nice. Fuck off.”
The asshole made the mistake of grabbing my arm. He tried to make it hurt, but he was hardly strong enough to do so.
“Listen here, you little cu--”
“No, you listen.” It was time for Cal’s voice, which made all men freeze or shiver respectively. I adored both reactions. His was a look of confused terror, which was delicious. I continued in Cal’s devastatingly sexy baritone. “If you make me rip my inaugural train riding dress to shift into something that I can fight you with, I will beat your ass extra.”
Just when I thought the pencil-mouth motherfucker would piss himself, another deep voice cut through my scene and made my knees weak.
“There a problem?”
Jack Rowlett, every inch of that muscular, angry Minotaur was scowling our way with his hand resting casually on his gun belt. Beside him, the familiar lithe bounty hunter with the wolfish grin watched on with amusement.
“No, sir.” Yellow mouth retreated, clasping his hands together to rub at them shyly. “I was just helping this lady with her bag.”
“I believe I told you to kindly fuck off,” I corrected, shooing him away with my free hand. “Go on. Shoo.”
And thus, like magic, he fucked off.
I unleashed my charm on the duo and made sure to swish my hips as I sauntered over to them. I had a feeling I wasn’t going to strike their fancy by going to them alone, but perhaps I could sway them into a group session.
“Marshal Jack, as I live and breathe. You get more strapping each time I see you. Gideon, my favorite wolfy scoundrel, you look dashingly handsome tonight.”
Jack, of course, was impassively scowly, but Gideon touched his hat politely and kept his grin. He was a fellow flirt, so we understood each other.
“Beautiful as always, Miss Scarlet.” The wolf winked. “What brings you here?”
“Besides you two?” I batted my eyes, and Jack rolled his. “I’m on my way to New Haven for the stage life. The theater calls, my darlings.”
“It suits you. You already shine like a star.” The wolf smiled as I giggled and swatted playfully at his arm.
“Oh, you. Such a flirt.”
“By the gods,” Jack grumbled.
“Say,” I mused aloud, making a show of tapping my chin with one finger. “I was just about to head to Wayside Inn and grab a bite to eat. Would you lovely gents like to accompany me? I could repay your chivalry.” The drop in tone as I spoke was not lost on them, which lit a little fire of hope in me.
“Hm,” Gideon mused back. “I could go for some dinner. What about you, Jack?”
Even though Jack’s blue eyes weren’t aimed my way, the lethal daggers he tossed from them made me shiver. In the face of Jack’s wrath, Gideon only grinned.
“Walk Scarlet to his hotel and meet me back at the station.” To me, Jack’s tone left little room for argument, and hot damn was it nice. I had to fan myself a bit to cool down.
“Sure, Marshal. I can do that.” Gideon kept his eyes connected to Jack’s for a couple of beats before he broke the contact by smiling at me. He took my bag easily and stepped toward the road.
“Follow me, gorgeous.”
So much for the threesome.
The inn wasn’t far, and was nicer than I’d thought it would be, considering how cheap it was. The wood and brick building was painted a springtime yellow, with lacey accents that were a touch gaudy. As long as the sheets were clean and I could take a bath, it could be as flamboyant as it wanted to be.
Gideon was a gentleman and brought my bag all the way up to my room, pausing at the door to lean on the frame as I pulled the suitcase inside.
“Staying awhile?” I mirrored his posture on the opposite frame and openly ran my eyes over him. Gods, he was tight and predatory. He was smirking at me, but there was no fire behind it. I figured as much. I knew my attempts were nothing compared to Jack’s blue daggers.
I could see sparks better than anyone.
But I couldn’t let him off without trying to get him off.
“You have something to protect yourself out in New Haven?”
“I can shapeshift into a big ass mayor and punch hard.” I shrugged, resting my back against the cold wood. “Works great.”
“What about if someone snaps a repressor cuff on you and you can’t Cal out of a situation?” His pretty brown eyes were watching me closely, which I’m sure made prey feel uneasy. I liked it.
“What are you getting at, my sexy wolf?”
Gideon reached behind him and tugged a knife sheath lose from his belt. Holding the sheath, he presented me with the handle.
“For backup.”
“Gideon, I don’t need a knife.”
He shrugged one shoulder up. “Humor me.”
With a sigh, I took the heavy weapon and slipped it out just enough to peek at the blade. It wasn’t anything special, a well-worn wooden handle wrapped in leather straps and a razor-sharp blade. I pressed the blade back into its holder and tapped the leather with my fingers.
“Thank you.”
“You’re welcome.” He pushed off the door.
I leaned my forearm on the frame and motioned into my room with my chin. “Wanna have some fun before you go back to your bull?”
He gave me a wink. “The fun is waiting back with the bull.”
“Oh, you lucky bastard.” I didn’t hide my pout before I brightened with hope. “Can I watch?”
“G’night, Scarlet.” Gideon tipped his hat with a smirk and left to go bull riding.
Chapter Three
The rest of my stay in Worthington wasn’t anything to write home about. I treated myself to a cheap glass of wine and some decent dinner, and departed for New Haven first thing in the morning.
New Haven was the furthest east one could travel without hitting the ocean. It was the very first settlement established when the humans set sail from the Old World and sprouted up with each new wave of immigrants. Each piece of the Old World was brought over, one person at a time, to claim a small spot in the vast melting pot of New Haven. It was a symphony of culture and art.
If one wanted to sing and dance on the stage, you couldn’t do so without getting your start there.
I wasn’t naïve enough to think that the city where dreams began was going to be anything like it was rumored to be: magical, paved with gold, overflowing with music and opportunity. But I was a little giddy to finally see the cityscape when the train got close enough. While absolutely not gold-clad and melodic at first, it did have a life force that was completely unmatched.
New Haven was a city that was alive.