Evidently deciding she'd harassed him enough for one morning, Summer picked up her phone and turned her attention to social media. Jude shook his head to clear it and looked back down at the security plan spread out in front of him.
The schematics were for The Jungle, an exclusive fetish club that catered to shifters and the women who hungered for them. The Jungle was something of a haven for shifters who'd come out into society twenty years ago, but still had to bury their animal instincts in public. Inside those protective walls, the beast could come out to play-as long as it played by the rules.
As a member of the governing Pride, it was Jude's job to monitor every dark corner of the club in order to ensure even the smallest offense could be documented and addressed. Recently, a coyote shifter had discovered and exploited a weak spot in the current system. His encounter with the skulking human that morning upped the urgency factor of patching the holes and shoring up the walls.
Staff fell in his other Pride mates' jurisdiction but updating the hardware, reviewing and deciphering what the cameras revealed? Those were his responsibilities.
The Jungle's security was a full-time job. He'd given up private clients when the club went live, exceptions being Pride mates' homes and, recently, the two women Ares had taken under his protection. Lily and another, Alexa Voorhees, who worked at the salon that shared a wall with Lily's shop.
Nothing much went on in their little strip mall, smack in the center of a middle income town on the outskirts of the county. He reviewed their camera feeds periodically because that was part of his contracted services-and because what was important to a member of the Pride was important to him-but until Lily opened her doors, nothing had ever raised a flag.
But that woman? She waved a big, taunting red one at him every time she walked past her cameras, which was about a hundred times a day. He didn't spend all his time spying on her like some kind of basement pervert, but was he checking in on his private clients more than he had before she showed up on the scene?
Yeah. Yeah, he was. And every time he caught a glimpse of her black and white image, his lion roused from slumber. The curvy boutique owner had an arsenal of corset-style tops that showed more creamy breast than any man should be expected to regard with professionalism.
If he came face to face, close enough to catch her feminine scent, he might lose that distance because the truth was, Summer wasn't wrong. Something about Lily Bristol drew him-and his lion-even through the impersonal lens of a camera.
Even though Ares had declared himself her protector.
Summer's phone alarm chimed. She slid it into her pocket and stood. "I'm going by her shop today. Want me to set up a blind date?"
"No." He exhaled and steered her in a different direction. "You're knitting now?"
She shrugged. "I'm not as much cat as you, but I can still see the appeal in a ball of string. Anyway, gotta go. Let me know if you really don't want her. I might like guys, but I could be convinced to play for the other team, too."
Jude shook his head and waved her off. They both knew he wouldn't push the mate issue, each of them reluctant to commit for their own reasons.
Summer, because the man she wanted-with whom Jude suspected she'd already Imprinted-was in denial. And Jude because the brief, hot encounters with the women who threw themselves into the fantasies to be had at The Jungle were enough for him.
At the memory of Lily Bristol's blue eyes gazing up at him from the photo on his phone, he swore.
Maybe he was in denial, too.
2
Skeins of yarn, colorful by day but shades of gray by night, squatted in the floor-to-ceiling shelving units that lined the shop's walls. As he picked his way around the overstuffed sofas and long tables that occupied the open floor space, the intruder fantasized about unraveling skein after skein and strangling the bitch with every variety his money had bought. Vegan threads, synthetics, one hundred percent merino wool-he'd strangle her slowly, one hand-dyed hue after another. He'd show her who held all the power now.
He hadn't planned on breaking into her shop. No, when he'd located the bitch, all the hatred he'd stored up had exploded in his stomach, filling him with the fire of vengeance.
He had always wanted to be an artist but had never possessed an original creative thought. Now, though … now, he was inspired.
Entering the shop was a risk, but that was the nature of creation. The artist suffered and gambled, never knowing how his audience would receive his work. Thankfully, the only member of his target audience was himself.