Free Bitten 2 by A.J. Colby Page B

didn’t really care if I was late.
    Yeah, and that’s why you just almost mowed down a homeless guy on the last block.
    My heart rate ratcheted up another notch as I rounded the corner onto 16 th Street and the café came into view, sandwiched between a jazz club that wouldn’t open for several more hours, and a used bookstore. A copper sign above the door, turned green and blue by the patina of time, declared that I had arrived at The Vine. Large windows reflected the bright early afternoon sunshine, appearing as golden portals into some unknown land.
    A flicker of anxiety roiled in my stomach as I stopped in the middle of sidewalk, pedestrians flowing around me. I’d spent the last nine years avoiding other weres—and people in general—and now was about to come face to face with one of the most powerful weres in the entire state.
    The urge to turn and run was strong, but the wolf balked at the idea of such weakness. She knew as well as I did that if I wanted any chance of figuring out what was happening I needed to talk to the pack master.
    “Suck it up, Buttercup,” I muttered to myself, giving my shirt one last futile tug before pushing my way through the crowd to the door.
    Opening the door I was met by a dizzying array of scents. The rich aroma of brewing coffee pulled me forward before I even realized what my feet were doing. Beyond the mouthwatering smell of coffee and fresh pastries, was the hot spiciness of weres, the earthy scent of magi, and the scents of a dozen other supes I wasn’t familiar with. It was a heady perfume that, although foreign, somehow felt like home.
    The Vine was considered a bastion of the supernatural community. Lauded as being the first business in the state to be owned and run by a supe, it had been featured multiple times on recent news reports talking about the push for equal rights. More importantly, I’d also heard that they had the best damn coffee in town.
    Though the coffee I had at Cordova’s might give them a run for their money.
    Moving into the hot press of bodies just inside the door, I cast my gaze over the random spread of tables. I’d seen pictures of the pack master splashed across the news over the last couple years, but it was the aura of power he gave off that made it easy to spot him in the crowd.
    The energy radiating from him lapped at the edge of my consciousness as if he were scenting me, gauging my strength. I knew so little about other weres and the full breadth of their talents that I wouldn’t have been surprised if he really was scenting me, hoping to get a rise out of me. As much as I hated to admit it, I was intrigued by him and could already feel the wolf stirring inside.
    Moving towards him, my footsteps faltered when our eyes across the café. There was a flicker of recognition in his gaze and in that fleeting instant our wolves reached out and scented each other. It felt as though the world had dropped out from beneath my feet, leaving a feeling of weightlessness in the pit of my stomach. No one else existed beyond him, and I was overcome by the urge to fall down to my knees and pledge my undying allegiance to him.
    What the fuck? I thought, finding even that small glimmer of coherence hard to hold onto.
    Another, stronger wave of energy flowed over me, driving the air from my lungs, compressing them into useless fleshy bags in my chest. I would have toppled over then and there if I hadn’t been surrounded by a half dozen other people waiting for a table to open up. The shoulders and backs of strangers pressing against me was the only thing keeping me on my feet. Breathless from the immense weight of his power, I struggled to clear my thoughts but found my body unwilling—or unable—to obey my commands. A panicked sweat bloomed on my skin, covering me from head to toe while the hairs rose on the back of my neck.
    Time stopped, leaving me suspended in the moment, unable to breathe and barely even able to think. I knew inaction meant death,