Chapter 3: Calder Pov

The beer in my hand is warm. Not chill like I prefer. But I keep drinking it anyway, standing at the window watching her like some creep with nothing better to do.

I keep telling myself that I’m looking at the view outside. And I’m certainly not staring at a certain girl who was weeding her yard, looking too damn seductive while at it. I mean, who looks sexy weeding their damn yard?

She’s been out there for a while. Knees in the dirt, tank top sticking to her boobs, hair falling out of that half-assed ponytail she tied. Making me imagine how it would look with my hands squeezing her hair while—shut that thought.

My wolf presses under my skin, agitated from the testosterone flooding my body.

I tear my gaze away. She is human. They are background noise. Pleasant enough to look at, occasionally decent people you get to fuck and have a good time—nothing more. If I needed her, all I’d have to do is ask her to suck my dick and she would oblige. I don’t need to spend my time fantasizing about her.

I glance back out before I can stop myself.

She’s laughing now.

Of course, it’s at something Rhys said. My brother collects people like stray cats. They see him and immediately trust him, because he smiles like he’s never tortured and killed humans for the fun of it.

He’s leaning on the fence. And Maren… yeah. She’s grinning ear to ear. She has arranged her hair now.

What the hell am I doing?

Rhys talks to every human in this town, and I’ve never cared.

But this? Watching him with her? Something twists sharp and stupid inside me.

She looks good when she laughs. Soft around the eyes. Real. Okay, that’s enough. I tell myself.

My wolf pushes harder, all claws and attitude.

Let me out.

Yeah, no. Not happening. Last thing I need is Rhys catching my scent swirling around her like a warning label.

I wait until he finally goes inside before I move. Keys. Jacket. Helmet hooked on my fingers, but I don’t bother putting it on. The bike roars when I start it, loud enough to rattle the entire neighborhood.

Good. Let it shake something loose.

I take off down the road.

Wind claws through my hair, engine vibrating through my spine. Riding my bike was one of the best things, if not the best thing, I like doing. Nothing could recreate this feeling. I raised my head and howled.

Ridgeway Oaks rolls by in neat little squares, with their pretty little lawns and box houses.

They have no idea what’s coming.

Town Hall looms up ahead. I park, swing off the bike, and walk inside without knocking.

Mayor Whitlock looks up from whatever boring old-man task he was doing. His face drains when he sees me.

“Mr. Thorn,” he says. Thin voice. Shaky. “I wasn’t expecting you.”

He’s sweating already. Pathetic.

I don’t sit. I just stare at him until he fidgets.

“We need to talk,” I say.

He puts his pen down like it might blow up.

“About… what?”

“Your people will have to relocate.”

He blinks. Twice. “I’m sorry, what?”

“You’re going to tell your citizens to leave,” I say. “Pack the hell up. Move out. My kind will soon be moving here, and I don’t want trouble from your folks.”

“How am I going to do that? Just announce that everybody should leave?”

I shrug. “We are not moving in immediately. I’m here to prepare this place to be suitable for my people, so you have give or take a year.”

“That still doesn’t change anything. I can’t—people have roots here. Businesses. Families. I can’t order an evacuation for no reason.”

I smile. It’s not a friendly kind. “You can say there’s a natural disaster coming. That should do it.”

His knees go weak enough that he steadies himself on the desk. “You can’t be serious.”

“I’m dead serious. You do not get on my wrong side.” Only a few humans in positions of authority know about the existence of shifters, and anybody who doesn’t obey us or threatens to expose our secrets are immediately put down.

“Please choose some other town. I beg you. I don’t need this heat right now.”

“This is the best town for my people. See that you do what I say. You know what comes if you don’t obey.”

He snaps. Stands up. “I am not doing this. I don’t care what you think you can threaten.”

I move before he finishes the sentence.

One blink and I’m right in front of him. I lifted him easily, wrapping my hands around his neck. I slam his fat body against the wall, cracking it. Blood dropped from his nose.

“When I give an order, you obey,” I say, baring my canines.

I hold him there, close enough that he smells the rage on me, until his face is purple and his eyes are bulging. I want him to know exactly who he’s dealing with. Then I release him, dropping him roughly back into his chair.

He gasps, clutching his throat, tears forming in his weak eyes.

“You have one year,” I reiterate, my voice flat and final. “Start making the arrangements. This town is no longer yours.”

I turn my back on the pathetic display and walk out, leaving him choking on the silence.

I reach my bike, yank the helmet off the seat. The engine starts with a deafening roar.

I don’t need a fight, and I certainly don’t need to circle back to Maren’s yard and risk tearing down Rhys’s fence with my bare hands. I need a release.

I swing the Harley hard toward the main road, the asphalt blurring beneath me. There’s a spot about forty minutes out, a sex club that caters to shifters and humans brave or stupid enough to seek them out. It’s dark, loud, and offers exactly the mindless physical gratification I need to clear this tension from my groin.