Wicked Cravings (The Phoenix Pack #2)(5)
Author: Suzanne Wright

“You don’t need an excuse, baby. Any time you want to see any part of this body, you only have to ask. Hey, did you hear about Dante’s little predicament?” Once Dominic had finished regaling her with his tale, Jaime gasped. “That bitch.” For a split second she forgot herself and was about to offer to personally deal with the dominant female.

A submissive wolf wouldn’t do that, a voice in her head reminded her.

Shaya nodded. “Yeah, well, payback’s a bitch, too. She’ll get what’s coming to her—

hopefully not as a result of our pregnant Alpha going crazy on her, though.” Having finished her toast, Jaime gently placed Hunk on the floor and rose from her seat. “I have to get to work. I’ll see you all later.” She was already late, which unfortunately seemed to be a personality trait of hers.

As she passed Dante, she couldn’t help but notice he was scowling at her. What the hell was his problem? It seemed that no matter what she said or did, he intended to be an ass.

Men. She had long ago concluded that it was impossible to find guys who were considerate and sensitive as well as hot. Well, impossible to find some that didn’t already have boyfriends of their own anyway.

Not willing to allow Dante to take up any more of her thoughts, she shrugged off the matter.

Reaching Grace, who was cursing “shit, shit, shit” at the frying pan—the woman tended to say “shit” a lot—Jaime gave her a quick peck on the cheek. “Thanks for breakfast. I’ll see you later.” As she walked through the network of tunnels to retrieve her backpack from her room, she again found herself marveling at how smooth the light sandstone walls were. The pack lived in caves that had been hollowed out and made into one giant home. Although the ancient dwellings had been modernized over the years, she’d still imagined that it would have a Stone Age appearance. She certainly hadn’t expected the contemporary look, the luxury carpeting, or the solid oak and pine modern furniture. Maybe she should have, though, considering that Lydia—who was a graphic designer—liked anything even remotely creative and she had insisted on decorating the interior.

Taryn liked to call it “Bedrock,” which was why she often called Trey “Flintstone.” Once she had her backpack, Jaime headed outside, descended the smooth stairways that were carved into the cliff face, and entered the concealed parking lot. Finally in her Chevy, she left pack territory—waving to baby-faced Cam, Lydia’s mate, who was guarding the security gate—and drove to the dog sanctuary where she’d worked since she was sixteen.

All the dogs there had been rescued from abusive environments and were so traumatized they couldn’t be rehomed. In a lot of cases, dogs like these would be put down, particularly if they were too wild. This was one of the reasons Jaime worked there most mornings each week—she could relate to them in a way that she could never do with a shifter.

Twenty minutes later she arrived at the sanctuary. After swapping her jeans and T-shirt for navy coveralls in one of the changing rooms, she left her backpack in her locker and made her way over to the section of the sanctuary where she worked. There was a lot involved in the running and upkeep of the sanctuary, but Jaime’s role was to take care of twenty dogs—all of whom she had come to adore.

Squatting beside one of the outdoor dog cages and cooing over a group of German shepherd puppies were two of her coworkers and close friends. They were the only people other than her brother who knew of her secret.

“Have you ever seen anything so gorgeous?” exclaimed Riley, a white-lioness shifter, as she noticed Jaime approaching.

Yeah, Dante. Jaime quickly expelled that thought from her mind, thankful she hadn’t said it aloud.

“You’re late again,” chastised Ivy, but the witch’s tone was playful. “Thank you for finally joining us.”

“Yeah, well, promptness is a quality of the boring.”

In response to a series of beeps, Riley dug her cell from her pocket. Instantly her heart-shaped face reddened, making her white-blonde hair look even lighter.

“A text from Aidan?” Ivy asked cautiously.

“Yes, it was the wild ox himself,” confirmed Riley bitterly.

“So you’re not letting him talk you into giving him another chance.” Ivy’s comment wasn’t so much a question as a suggestion.

“Hell no.”

“Good. Want me to do a little magick and make him impotent?” Ivy’s expression was hopeful.

“I was thinking more along the lines of giving him a sexually transmitted disease.”

“That sounds good.”

Riley nudged Ivy, smiling. “Did you tell Jaime what you did to your cheating ex?”

“What?” Jaime knew it would be good. Ivy was a great person, but she had a ruthless streak when it came to guys. It was no surprise really. Ivy was a unique type of witch—she was a Siren, but not the mythical version who sat on rocks and made sailors drown. Sirens like Ivy used their powerful singing voices to entrance and bewitch. Also, they oozed sex and sensuality, drawing males to them.

Ivy resented that guys were so mesmerized by her surface beauty that they didn’t look any further. It wasn’t often that she chanced having a relationship. If the guy repaid her by crossing her…it was never good.

Ivy’s expression was all innocence. “I kind of put him into a deep sleep while I shaved him from head to toe, paying special attention to his back, sack, and crack.” Typical Ivy, Jaime thought. “What did he do when he woke up?”

“He was pretty angry and did a lot of yelling, but it was hard to take him seriously when he looked like a mannequin. It was a shame, really. He was a cougar shifter and, well, you know that rumor that male feline shifters are extremely good at o**l s*x because of the slight roughness of their tongues? Those rumors have substance.”

“I know that from experience, too.” Riley shook her head, looking pained. “We need to stop all this talk about guys and sex, it’s making me horny.”

“Me too.” Ivy flicked her raven-black hair over her shoulder, and Jaime again found herself wishing her own hair was that glossy. Jaime had been told enough times that her hair was sleek and radiant, but Ivy’s was something else altogether—it seemed to shimmer and reflect. Depending on how the light hit it, her hair could even appear violet. “It really is time that we did something about our hungry libidos.”

Jaime nodded. “Definitely, especially since I’ve given up on Dante.” Ivy and Riley both gasped. Although neither knew him, they’d heard Jaime talk about him often enough.