Bite Me Like You Mean It

THORNE

Isadora and I had put together a plan for rebuilding the bar. We’d—or rather, I’d—had a vision for it all. And somehow, against all odds, everything had come together.

Well, more or less.

There were still some quirks, of course. The lighting near the stage, for instance, liked to flicker whenever I stared at it for too long. A booth near the back still leaned just enough to the left to feel like a trust exercise. And then there were our secondary residents. The ones who lived here without permission—or paying rent.

Bernard, for example, still haunted the chandelier. He came out now and then to tackle our worst paperwork, quietly sorting the chaos into perfectly ordered stacks. I was more than happy to leave the filing to him since good administrative help was hard to find, especially the kind that didn't require a paycheck or a lunch break.

Then there were the sprites. They’d appeared shortly after we’d expelled the demon from the upstairs toilet and promptly claimed the bathtub as their personal property. Much to my dismay, and at the expense of our bank account, they spent all freaking day splashing around in the water. Our utility bill had never been higher. But when we’d sought out the local witches to banish the miscreants, the Ravenspells assured us sprites were a sign of good fortune in business.

So, the sprites stayed, and Izzy created a “bath-time fun-time” schedule with them. Don’t ask. I certainly hadn’t. I didn’t want to know the finer details.

All things considered, though, we’d done a respectable job. We’d taken this sunken, half-dead, semi-rotted pit and made it whole again.

A pity the same couldn’t be said for me.

“Thorne!”

I jerked my head up to find two vampires leaning over the bar. One stared at me with pure exasperation, while the other chuckled and shook his head. But neither had shouted my name.
That honor belonged to the biggest doofus in existence and the only person I’d ever seriously considered murdering—my big brother, Ricky. He stood at the far end of the counter, fingers drumming against the polished bartop. Concern narrowed his eyes, but the moment he caught me watching, he blinked and wiped his face clean.

Yeah. That’d been happening a lot recently.

He cleared his throat, barely audible over the surrounding chaos, and jerked his chin toward the crowd swarming the bar, all of them demanding drinks.

Right.

Opening night of Love Bites—the bar Isadora and I had brought back from the dead. Now wasn’t the time for woolgathering. Not even the seek inner peace kind.

Time to put my game face on.

I flashed a feral grin, one worthy of my name, and locked my focus on our new patrons.

“Alright, you thirsty beasts”—a chorus of hollers rose in the bar—“form an orderly line, try not to eat—or drink—each other, and if anyone starts a fight, I will personally bite your ass so hard you won’t be able to sit for a week!”

Laughter rang in my ears, and I immediately set to work, hands flying as bottles appeared beneath my fingers, courtesy of Bernard. More than once, I silently thanked my werewolf dexterity as I caught, flipped, and poured bottles that cost more than Isadora’s and my non-existent salaries.

One by one, the familiar faces of Eternity Falls visited the bar, placing orders and commentary in equal measure. Madame Corvin from the dress shop with her silver hair and equally silver tongue. Mr. Halloway, the current librarian, who preferred his blood older than most of our residents. Mira, our local witchy real estate agent, who requested something called a Gory Gimlet. Lucien had to step in to help me with that one. He ran the most exclusive nightclub in town and apparently knew these things. We were technically his competition, but tonight, he was here to show his support for his mate, who just happened to be my business partner and best friend.

Because this was Eternity Falls.

We may curse each other—often literally—but we showed up when it mattered.

Of course, they were also here to see me. If there was one thing Eternity Falls liked more than a grand opening, it was gossip. And right now, I was providing them with a good measure of both. Every time I looked up from the bar, I found eyes on me. Watching. Waiting to see if I was as broken as everyone claimed.

And every time I caught someone looking, I widened my smile just a bit more, ensuring I showed off my teeth. There was a reason people called me Thorne instead of Theodora.

If they wanted a show, I’d give them one.

I snapped my fingers and leaned over the bar. “Next victim,” I called cheerfully. “State your poison or get out of my line.”

Someone laughed and moved away, freeing up space for the next patron, who immediately took their place.

The instant I looked up, and my gaze met Rue’s, my entire body betrayed me. Heat drained from my face even as the room temperature seemed to spike. My heart rate doubled. My breath shortened. It took every ounce of control I possessed—which wasn’t much—to keep my expression neutral. Not that it mattered in a place like this. Nearly half our customers would note the change in my physiology thanks to their heightened senses. Because there was no such thing as privacy in a town like this.

Rue sat on the edge of the nearest bar stool, lowering herself closer to my height. Long, ashen hair framed her face, and her eyes—always so bright and far too aware—fixed on me.

My grip tightened on the counter as suddenly the bar disappeared. Instead, I was lying on the cold, hard ground, the stone unforgiving beneath my back. Blood slicked my hands. The taste of copper coated my tongue.

A dark alley. Flickering lights. Pain so sharp it shattered me.

Strong arms lifted me while a low voice—steady, unyielding—cut through the pain.

And through it all, those eyes. Unnaturally bright. Incredibly calm.

I locked onto them. Used them to center me. Even as she moved, even as she whispered stay with me, she never looked away. Not once.

I blinked hard, dragging myself back into the present. Back to the bar. Back to the heat and the laughter and the music pounding through the floorboards.

My breath hitched, and tears pricked my eyes.

Shit. No. I couldn’t melt down. Not here. Not now. I dropped my gaze to the bartop before anyone could catch the shine in my eyes. Focused on the grain of the wood. The faint nick near the edge where Ricky had dropped a crate earlier. Anything solid. Anything real.

The air behind me moved, and without looking, I knew my brothers had closed in. They’d been like this for the last few months. Ever since that night in the alley. Hovering. Guarding. Waiting for the inevitable moment.

Ricky’s bulk shadowed me from view while Cassian’s hand settled on my shoulder. Felix leaned in close, lowering himself to my height.

“I’m fine,” I muttered.

They didn’t move. Because, of course, they didn’t. They just stared. And I hated it.

“I said, I’m fine,” I repeated, firmer. “Now go. I don’t want anyone to see me like this—”

“Fuck everyone else,” Ricky growled.

“Please,” I hissed. “Just… go do whatever it is you were doing.”

Ricky hesitated. Cassian shook his head. Felix opened his mouth, clearly about to argue.

I shot him a look sharp enough to cut.

That did it.

They backed off. Slowly. Reluctantly. Like retreating wolves who didn’t agree with their alpha’s call but would obey it anyway.

I exhaled and gave myself a quick shake. It’d been a week since my last panic attack. That had to count for something. They weren’t coming as frequently anymore, so I needed to focus on that and remind myself that the bastard who’d hurt me was dead. Not undead, but dead-dead. Isadora had seen to that.

I glanced up and found Izzy near the bar’s main door, laughing with a cluster of locals, radiant and distracted. Her attention wasn’t on me, thanks to Cassian. He’d moved back to her side and was chatting her ear off, thankfully keeping her from noticing me.

Thank fuck.

If she’d seen even a fraction of that near-meltdown, nothing I said would have convinced her I was fine. She felt guilty, even though none of this was her fault, because it’d been her ex-mate who’d broken me.

Ricky came around the bar and guided Rue off to the side, where he happily poured her a drink, likely free of charge. My brothers were eternally grateful to Rue for not only finding me but bringing me home. She glanced my way once more, but I forced my attention back to the room.
Releasing a long breath, I straightened and let the mask slide back into place. Shoulders back. Chin up. Smile in place.

I needed a distraction.

Before anyone else ordered a drink, I grabbed the closest bottle, a glass, then hopped up onto the counter and clinked the two together.

A few people cheered. Someone wolf-whistled.

“Oh no,” Felix muttered.

Cassian and Izzy fell quiet and turned their attention to me. My twin eyed me though, as though he didn’t trust me at all. Which, fair.

Ricky left Rue’s side and started toward me, clearly regretting letting me climb up there.

Yes, my brothers knew me well. And despite myself, their reactions made me smile.

“To Love Bites,” I announced, perhaps a bit too brightly, raising my glass. “The first Wolfe business that—so far—hasn’t burned down or resulted in an arrest or a restraining order!”

Ricky palmed his face, and Felix dropped into a nearby chair, muttering my name.

Of course, that only encouraged me.

I grinned wider before continuing. “Now, that isn’t saying much since our past attempts include unlicensed fighting rings, a casino heist—”

“Nope,” Ricky said flatly.

“—a pop-up blood den that absolutely was not a cult, no matter what the council says—”

Ricky grabbed my waist and hauled me bodily off the counter.

The crowd howled with laughter.

I shrieked, more in delight than surprise, as my boots hit the floor. “Hey! I was making a toast!”

“You were incriminating us,” he growled, setting me firmly behind the bar like an overprotective bouncer returning a gremlin to her enclosure.

Felix laughed so hard he nearly fell out of his chair. “Geez, Thornicle, did you have to bring up the cult?”

“I technically said it wasn’t a cult!” I replied.

Ricky leaned down, his voice low with brotherly menace. “You’re done talking now.”

I bared my teeth at him. “You’re no fun.”

“I’m keeping us out of prison.”

“Debatable.”

He snorted and straightened, already walking away.

Already feeling steadier, I slipped back into work mode without missing a beat. The night rolled on, bright and loud and strangely familiar. I poured drinks, traded banter, and let the easy rhythm of the bar wrap around me. For the first time since the attack, everything felt normal again. Simple. Good.

So, naturally, that was when the universe decided to cock-slap me in the face.

Because that was when a new scent hit me and stopped me cold.

No, new wasn’t right. This particular scent was old and familiar in a way that made my blood boil. But it was certainly unexpected, and it had my wolf snapping to attention so hard it felt like she’d slammed against every bone in my body.

Pine. Leather. Wolf.

My hands stalled mid-pour and my head lifted on reflex. I drew in a deeper breath and sifted through the alcohol, magic, and bodies until I found it.

No, not it.

Him.

I scanned the room, searching for the source. But I saw nothing different. Same crowd, same laughter, same faces I’d been staring at all night.

Except the scent didn’t fade.

In fact, the deeper I breathed, the stronger it grew.

No. This wasn’t possible.

Five years.

Five fucking years he’d been gone. He’d left me. Our home. Our life. Just abandoned ship without so much as a note, letter, or message. He couldn’t be here. I refused to believe it, even though my nose—and every instinct I had—told me otherwise.

I tried to make sense of it, tried telling myself it was just memory playing tricks, just the universe testing whether I’d actually put myself back together.

Five years was a long time. Long enough for someone to forget, to misremember their mate’s scent. Long enough to be forgotten in return.

But then the crowd near the entrance shifted—just a fraction. Barely any space at all.

And there he was.

My wolf surged forward, demanding to take control. Heat flooded my veins so fast it made me dizzy, and once again, my pulse thudded in my ears.

I blinked.

I blinked again.

To my dismay, he didn’t disappear.

And of course, he was as fucking handsome as ever. Still tall. Still broad. Still infuriatingly sexy in those damn faded jeans and leather jacket.

“Oh, you have got to be kidding me,” I shouted. “What the hell are you doing here?”

My grip tightened on the bar hard enough to make the wood creak, but it didn’t help. Something inside me snapped, and without a word, I shoved away from the bar, heart hammering as I stalked across the room. Each step physically hurt as all the years of pain and misery and abandonment rose to the surface.

As I plowed through the crowd, conversations faltered. Laughter died mid-breath as people made the connection. Even Bernard stilled, as though sensing the oncoming storm.

“You aren’t welcome here,” I snarled before coming to a stop in front of Calder—my estranged husband, mate, and the man who had broken my heart—and lifted a finger, every inch of me shaking with rage.

He lifted a single brow and his expression was infuriatingly calm, as though my reaction was merely an amusing inconvenience.

“Hello, Theodora,” he drawled.

Oh, no. He did not just use my full name, here, in front of everyone.

I didn’t think. I just handed my drink to the person next to me, then slapped him across the face, hard enough to snap his head to the side.

“Holy crap!” Isadora gasped behind me, her voice easily heard over the silence in the bar.

I stood there, chest heaving, palm stinging as the burn bloomed up my arm. Worth it. Entirely worth it.

A red imprint bloomed across his cheek, stark and undeniable. The sight of it brought another grin out of me.

Calder slowly turned his head back toward me, jaw working as he rubbed at the mark. His eyes were bright now—sharper than before, something wild flickering beneath the calm. Almost like… had he enjoyed that?

Without warning, his arms snaked around my waist, and he lifted me clean off the floor like I weighed nothing at all.

“Hey—!” I started.

His mouth crashed down on mine, silencing my complaint.

Heat exploded within me. I wanted to shove him away, smack him again. Instead, my body reacted before my mind caught up and my traitorous hands fisted in his hair, and I kissed him back with all the rage and pain I’d carried for half a decade.

He growled low in his chest, the sound shooting straight through me, then hauled me closer like he never wanted to let me go.

When we finally broke apart, breathless and furious and utterly unhinged, the noise in the bar was deafening.

Calder rested his forehead against mine, voice low enough that only I could hear. “Still got a hell of a right hook, Theodora.”

I bared my teeth. “Call me that again and I’ll break something vital.”

His smile only widened.

Guess Love Bites wasn’t the only thing we’d opened for business here tonight. Thanks to Calder, my personal life had just gone public.

Yay me.