“Leave, Catty.” Jill lowered her voice. “You know as well as I do these wolves here are up to some seriously bad shit. Not even the Guardians can help us. Not that they even come in here anymore.” She glanced over her shoulder and lowered her voice even more. “I’ve heard rumors that any dancer seen with a werewolf outside this club will be punished and the wolf killed in front of her. It’s not right. If Big Mike is willing to kill a male Were, what makes you think they won’t do the same to you, honey?”
The number of werewolves far outnumbered the humans at the Triple X. To her boss, the humans posed no threat. It was the Weres he watched. She knew Big Mike didn’t mind the girls dancing for the werewolves, as long as none of them got involved. But this was the first she’d heard he would kill another male.
Catty blinked back the sting of tears. Getting involved with Big Mike had been the biggest mistake of her life. They were no longer dating, but her gut told her he wouldn’t hesitate to hurt her if he was pushed to that point.
“Here, you need this more than me.” Jill unhooked her necklace and pressed the cross into Catty’s sweaty palm.
Catty let out a shaky laugh and studied the cross gleaming under the lights. “You think God can save me?” She’d been forgotten by God a long time ago.
Jill grinned. “God can save your soul, no doubt about that. But the silver will save your ass.”
Chapter Two
Lucien Sauvage held a two-by-four over his head and nailed it into the skeletal wall. He blinked the sweat out of his eyes and wiped his grimy forehead.
The blistering Arkansas sun was unforgiving, branding everything it touched with fingers of heat.
It was hot. Hot as fuck.
“You need help with your wall?” Jaxon walked over and held out a water bottle. Lucien gritted his teeth, shook his head, and kept hammering.
“I don’t need your help, Jaxon.” He never did. He preferred doing things on his own.
“It’s about time you got your lazy ass out of bed,” Lucien added. “The rest of the Guardians have been here since six working. You’re two hours late.” He didn’t keep the irritation out of his voice. The heat combined with Jaxon’s interruption made him almost unbearable to be around. Not to mention he was roasting in his leather jacket. Being a werewolf didn’t help matters since his body temperature ran a few degrees hotter than a human’s.
“It’s not like I’m getting paid to be here. It’s for charity.” Jaxon tugged his shirt over his head and tossed it on a stack of lumber.
“You better get used to manual labor, pretty boy. Skylar is hoping once this house gets up and running she can build more like it to help house abused girls.” Skylar was the mate to the Guardian Zane. After being abused as a child, Skylar wanted to protect other girls, so she’d started her own charity, Skylar’s House.
“And even if you don’t have a charitable bone in your body, you should be concerned about the bet you made with Damon and Jayden. If they get their walls up today before us, we’re buying their beer.” The heat in his body matched the heat in his tone, and it took all his restraint not to punch Jaxon for including him in the stupid bet. Instead, he hooked the hammer in the waist of his jeans and grabbed another two-by-four. The quicker he could get done, the quicker he could leave. He could almost feel his blood thickening with each drop of sweat squeezed through his pores.
“Relax, man. We can still win. You’re just letting the heat get to you.” Jaxon shielded his eyes with his hand and leaned against the pile of neatly stacked lumber. “It’s hot as hell and you’re still wearing that damn leather jacket.”
“Fuck off, Jaxon.” Lucien’s words came out fiery and explosive, and to a stranger, it would have been a warning. But Jaxon was no stranger and he certainly didn’t heed any warnings.
“Always the Lone Ranger. I don’t know how you do it, bro. I bow to your badassness in all your black leather.” Jaxon bent at the waist and gave him a mock bow.
“What are you doing, Jaxon? Kissing Lucien’s ass?” Barrett Middleton, Pack Master of Arkansas and leader of the Guardians, walked up with a load of lumber balanced on his shoulder. Judging by his tone, he was clearly not amused.
“He’s being annoying as hell.” Lucien grabbed another piece of wood and nailed it up. “By the way, Jaxon, badassness is not a word, dickhead.”
Lucien would love to take his jacket off. He would love to be hauling wood around in nothing but jeans and boots. He would love to be like the rest of the Guardian brothers. But he wasn’t like these Guardians. He was different. They all had futures. His had been stolen by someone he’d trusted with his life. He couldn’t trust anyone, and without trust he could never truly be part of their brotherhood.