The Victorious Redemption Complete Series Boxed Set, page 111
“Welcome to the other side,” Delilah whispered from the side of her mouth.
Jasmine’s eyes were wide. Something in the air set her senses afire, and she wondered if this was her primal coding warning her of a rival group of Weres. She couldn’t believe what she was seeing. Where the Ghost Throats were civilized and orderly in how they ran their operations, it was as though she had stumbled into a kennel for strays. The Garous acted like feral dogs rather than distinguished wolves. Only one or two looked up as Delilah strode confidently to the bar with Jasmine in step behind her.
She squeezed gently between two rough, broad men with shaggy beards, torn sleeves, and arms decorated with tattoos. One’s hair was silver, while the other’s was jet black. “Excuse me, boys.”
The two men glanced at each other before their gaze strayed to Delilah’s cleavage.
Delilah ignored them, focusing on the bartender, waving a hand as he passed. “Excuse me.”
The bartender ignored her.
The music thumped through the building. Jasmine kept herself on her toes, not knowing what may or may not happen if she were to let her guard down. She tried to picture the Ghost Throats in a place like this.
“Excuse me,” Delilah tried again, waving a hand once more at the bartender.
He glanced briefly at her before he dislodged the cap from a bottle and slid it to a smug-looking woman at the end of the bar.
Somewhere in the rabble, Jasmine heard barks and growls. She looked over to another corner where five wolves were snarling and chomping at each other, merging into a flurry of fur and aggression.
The man beside Delilah leaned toward her and sniffed, a wry smile crawling up his face.
Delilah tried once more to flag the bartender down. “Excuse me.”
The bartender stopped and glared at her. “Wait your turn, bitch.”
“I just need to speak to the boss,” Delilah returned. “He’s expecting us.”
But the bartender had already turned his attention back to serving the next customer.
Delilah screwed her fists in frustration. “For fuck’s sake.” She whirled on the man beside her. “And what the fuck are you sniffing at? Never got a nose full of a boss bitch’s scent?”
The man leaned back, an entertained look on his face. “Kitty’s got claws.”
Delilah grabbed him by the scruff of the collar. “Who are you calling ‘kitty.’”
“Me-owww,” the other man purred.
Delilah flashed daggers over her shoulder. Around them, Jasmine spotted a few other Weres turning their attention to Delilah.
“Easy, now,” Jasmine warned softly. “Remember why we’re here.”
“Yeah,” Delilah replied. “That’s easy. Not to get harassed by these assholes.”
A third man appeared. His hair hung in a thin rat’s tail down his back, and several folds on his top did a poor job of hiding his fat. He clamped a hand on Delilah’s shoulder. “Not a bad prize, boys. Darlin’, you know it’s only customary to let the guys take you for a spin. Y’know, as payment for entry.” He flashed golden teeth at his comrades, who all chuckled darkly.
More attention was being drawn to Delilah. A few more heads had turned, and now half a dozen men were circling while the ladies watched with a smile from a distance.
“Back up, now,” Delilah warned. “I won’t say it again.”
Jasmine looked at the bartender, wondering if any help would come from his direction. To her surprise, he leaned back against the counter and watched with folded arms.
“I said back up,” Delilah grunted, shoving the man nearest to her with enough force that he staggered back, arms pinwheeling to keep himself upright.
Another hand grabbed her shoulder. A third pulled at her top.
“We like it when they’ve got some fight in ’em,” one man smirked.
“What about her goth friend?” The attendant abandoned his cleaning duties and turned his sights on Jasmine. “I bet she’s got some kick in her.”
Jasmine kicked the scrawny man square in his crotch. He wheezed and fell down, much to the amusement of the others.
“How’s that for kick?” Jasmine asked the crippled man.
Delilah raised her fists, preparing for a fight. Jasmine wondered what they’d gotten into and if they knew who they were dealing with. Dimitri had promised that he’d set up a meeting, but apparently, these low-lifes hadn’t gotten the memo. She turned to Delilah, finding that her teeth had begun filing to points, her muscles swelling. Jasmine knew the worst thing that could happen would be for Delilah to shift to hell-hide and knock all of these guys unconscious, so she placed a hand on her shoulder to try to draw her back to the present moment.
“Give us a kiss, sweetheart,” the silver-haired Were crooned and winked at Delilah.
Another nearby ripped off his top to reveal an oil-stained chest covered in patches of hair and faded tattoos. “Me first, men. Me, first.”
Jasmine was about to protest when Delilah exploded in a loud howl beside her. She reared her head back, arms tensed out at either side. Jasmine’s blood ran cold when she saw the yellow grow in Delilah’s eyes and the first signs of her snout stretching on her face.
CHAPTER FIFTEEN
Jasmine felt the tension rising, the Garous riled up and hungry for conflict.
“Back up,” she warned the nearest to her. She stepped in front of Delilah, who was visibly fighting her own emotions and trying to gain control. The pain was written on her face, features screwed as hairs sprouted from her arms and her face twisted toward wolf.
“Back. Up!” Jasmine demanded.
“Or what?” Silver replied. “She’s just getting started. I like ’em feisty.”
Jasmine whirled to Delilah as another growl escaped her throat. “Delilah, pull it the fuck together,” she grumbled.
Delilah’s eyes flashed at her.
Jasmine swallowed.
She spread her arms out. “Last warning, cockbags. Back. The. Fuck. Up!” She stretched her fingers, her claws snapping to attention and drawing the interest of all nearby parties. She read a mixture of curiosity and fear. The Garous were realizing for the first time that they weren’t dealing with a conventional Were. They stepped back, which gave Jasmine enough room to grab Delilah by the thickening wrist and drag her away from the group.
One of them turned to follow, but the bartender warned him not to.
Jasmine found the only available quiet spot in a far corner. A shredded couch sat beneath a crooked bookshelf full of dusty books. She encouraged Delilah onto the seat with some struggle. The alpha Were was fighting her own internal rage as she tried to cool down.
“Delilah, stay with me,” Jasmine insisted, her mind cast back to their first attempts to control Delilah’s hell-hide in the old barn. “It’s Jasmine. Listen to my voice.”
“It hurts…” Delilah growled. “It hurts.”
“I know,” Jasmine assured her. “And it will. Remember what we learned. It doesn’t have to control you. You’re still in there. Take over the driving seat. Ground yourself in the things that make you who you are.”
Delilah moaned with her head in her hands, covering her face. She had grown several inches in height, and Jasmine looked back over at the bar to ensure that no one had followed. While a few still watched them, they at least had the grace to leave them for a moment.
“Del?” Jasmine continued. “Remember who you are. You are the queen of the Ghost Throats.”
“Queen?” Delilah replied through gritted teeth.
“Bad word choice, my bad,” Jasmine replied. “Remember your pack. Remember Kendrick. Think of something that calms you…lying in Kendrick’s arms? Your wedding day? Remember when Travis puked on his own shoes?”
Delilah shook her head. Her nostrils flared as she fought for deep breaths. “Travis is a fucking idiot.”
“That’s right,” Jasmine agreed. “He drank way too much Prosecco during the speeches.”
“And then the waiter cut him off,” Delilah gasped.
“Yes. You’re not this, remember. You have control. You’re a powerful woman without the hell-hide. I believe in you.”
Delilah nodded, her body softening slightly as she began to shrink. She kept her face behind her hands, and deep, panting breaths leaked through her fingers. Jasmine continued to soothe her, and she shrank back, folding into the contours of the couch until, finally, she let out a long breath and let her arms flop to either side.
Her braids had come out, but Delilah had returned.
“Thank fuck for that,” Jasmine stated, flopping back to join Delilah and hoping the nearby savages didn’t see this as a perverse invitation. “This is going pretty well so far, huh?”
Delilah laughed. “Not every sting is going to go perfectly.” She looked back over at the hungry dogs. They had no idea they would be allowed this moment of space, but Jasmine’s show clearly had them rattled.
“What was that there?” Jasmine asked. “I thought you had the hide handled?”
Delilah scanned the nearby wolves, humor drying from her face. “When your mother left the pack, things were hard for me. I lost myself for a long while, trying to fill the hole that she left. I tried alcohol. I got into fights. I went down a dark path. After a while, I bumped into another group of Weres, not too dissimilar from these guys.” A faraway look appeared on her face. “Things were rough. You don’t understand the lengths people like this will go to in order to survive. To be free.”
“What happened?” Jasmine asked.
Delilah broke her reverie, steeling herself again as she stared at the far side of the bar. Jasmine noticed him, too. A man that would put Conan the Barbarian to shame was watching them both from afar.
“Playing with those pups nearly killed me.” Delilah’s voice had gone low and sharp. “If it hadn’t been for…well, I’ll spare you the details. Suffice it to say that I never thought I’d be back in an environment like that. The smells. The men. The primitive calling…it must have just brought back a lot of that anger.” She rose to her feet. “Don’t worry. It won’t happen again.”
Jasmine stood beside her, a question springing to mind. “If that’s the case, why did you choose to accompany me here, despite what you knew?”
“Because you needed help,” Delilah stated. “Just thank yourself that I didn’t bring Kendrick, too. He has even less tolerance for places like this. There’d be no fucker standing by now if he had gone hell-hide on those assholes. Now, c’mon. Big Papa is waiting for us.”
They strode toward the giant with renewed confidence. As they neared the bar, the same four wolves moved in their path, forming a blockade to their progress.
“Has sweetheart wiped away the tears now?” Eyepatch asked, keeping a distance from Jasmine.
“You pigs ready to get rutting?” Jet Black asked with a smirk.
Delilah and Jasmine looked at each other.
“Final chance to get out of the way so we can speak to the big man,” Jasmine ordered.
“Oh, baby,” Silver stated, swaying his hips toward her. “I am the big man.”
He sprang at Jasmine. Jasmine made to punch back but found her arms pinned behind her. Silver stopped inches from her, delicately removing a stray lock of hair from her forehead. “I’m going to have some fun with you.” He leaned toward her ear. “Don’t worry. You can scratch if you like. I’m all about the kinks.”
Delilah’s fist flew into view. The sound of her hand meeting Silver’s cheeks rang around the room, and he spat pink spittle as he fell unconscious to the floor.
The man behind Jasmine gripped tighter. Delilah lunged forward, able this time to keep the wolf at bay but no less of a threat to the hungry crowd. She grabbed Eyepatch by the collar and picked him up in one strong arm before throwing him onto his back.
Jasmine kicked her heel up behind her, managing to go two for two on crotch shots that day. The cretin behind her softened his grip, and Jasmine took the opportunity to hunch over and send him across her back.
Another Garou sprang from the side, but this time, Jasmine was ready. Delilah tenderized Jet Black’s face while Jasmine jabbed her fist into the newcomer’s nose. An eruption of blood sprouted from his nostrils, and she followed with a gut punch. When he dropped to one knee, she lowered her elbow to the back of his neck.
Jasmine and Delilah stepped closer to each other, now back-to-back and surrounded by Garous. While some of the pack continued as though nothing was taking place, a few more had been pulled by curiosity and watched with folded arms, blocking them in.
“Think we can take them?” Jasmine muttered over her shoulder.
“Please,” Delilah scoffed. “With my hide and your monstrosity, we’ll leave them in the dust.”
“So much for diplomacy,” Jasmine muttered.
“Worth a shot,” Delilah returned.
A large woman who seemed to be all muscle and no sinew pummeled her fist into the meat of her hand and stepped forward to charge at Jasmine, but before she could take her first step, a call rang from further back in a commanding voice. “That. Is. Enough.”
Conan stepped toward them, the pack parting to allow him through. The Weres shrank and bowed their heads in his presence. At a distance, Jasmine had thought he was a monster to behold, but closer up and cast under the fluorescents, he was a mountain of a man. As if carved from stone, his muscles were massive and designed. He wore a tank top with thin straps cut low enough to almost reveal the nipples on his chiseled pectorals. His hair was shaggy and fell to his shoulders, and his beard was trimmed to stubble. His left eyebrow was divided into two by a small scar, and he smelled of sweat, pheromones, and something Jasmine couldn’t identify.
Jasmine and Delilah faced forward, straightening to their full height. She had thought Delilah was tall in man-skin. This man put her to shame.
The man stopped in front of them and drew a cigarette from his pocket. He placed it between his lips, then cupped a lighter to the end. He took a long drag, and the cherry glowed bright red before he exhaled a cloud of nicotine-fueled smoke.
“I find that these keep me calm,” he stated, responding to Jasmine’s scrutinous glare. “Want one?” He extended the pack to Jasmine and Delilah.
“I’m good,” Delilah replied levelly.
Jasmine met his gaze. “I’m fine.”
The mountain man nodded slowly, taking another pull of his cigarette. Those nearest to him were as silent as the daybreak while those at the edges of the place continued their activities. He studied them in turn for a long time.
“Are you going to talk?” Jasmine asked. “Or did you just come here to gawk as well?”
The man narrowed his eyes, considering his response. “Tyler.”
“Nope,” Jasmine returned. “I’m Jasmine.”
Delilah grinned.
Tyler smirked. “The name’s Tyler Vergr.” He looked between the pair. “I know that I’m supposed to be speaking with you, but I’m afraid I haven’t been introduced to this delightful creature.”
“Eyes up here, asshole,” Delilah spat as Tyler studied her from top to bottom, lingering on her breasts. “I’ve had enough of your people ogling me. Are we here to talk business or to fuck.”
“One does not preclude the other,” Tyler replied smoothly.
“This is Delilah,” Jasmine interjected, feeling the heat of the stares of his men and women on her. “Is there somewhere private we can go to talk?”
Tyler thumbed over his shoulder. “Back office.”
“Sold,” Jasmine replied.
Tyler lumbered ahead of them, the wolves remaining where they stood, unable to peel their eyes off the women the whole way. The monster man crouched through the doorway, his shoulders brushing the sides as he entered the cramped office. He sat behind a crooked desk, the surface scratched and stained, and laced his fingers behind his head. His shoulders were larger than his head which Jasmine found both comical and alarming.
He waited until Jasmine had sat on the only spare chair with Delilah standing behind her before he spoke. “Our mutual connection says that you’re in need of some of our services?”
“We are,” Jasmine confirmed. “We’ve been told that you’re the guys to go to for the things that may not exactly remain on the boundaries of conventional legalities.”
“You’re correct,” Tyler replied. “Unless you’re cops, in which case, you’re not.” He smirked.
Jasmine sat forward, steepling her fingers. “We’re in need of some reconnaissance. You see, my father—”
“Sorry, no can do, ladies.” Tyler stretched and rose from his chair. “I’m sure you can find your own way out of the building.”
Jasmine felt Delilah stiffen behind her. She looked up at Tyler, confused. “Excuse me?”
“I said our business is concluded.” Tyler examined a nearby photograph in a cracked frame as though he was bored with their conversation. “Show yourselves out.”
Jasmine stood sharply. “We’re going nowhere until we get what we want.”
It was a bold move. Jasmine held her ground when Tyler turned to face her, studying her through slitted eyelids. He took another long drag of his cigarette, and the room grew hazy around them.
“Who the fuck do you think you are?” Tyler asked.
“Jasmine Vironsis,” Jasmine replied. “And I’m a girl who’s used to getting what I want.”
“Clearly.” Tyler tapped the ashes into a mug with green, questionable insides. “Look, ladies, I’m afraid that I can’t pursue a line of inquiry unless you prove that you’re on the same page as myself and my friends out there. You waltz in here as though you own the place, get yourself and my people all riled up, then come in here making demands. We don’t know you. You ain’t shit to us. We could crush you in one hand right here, right now, if we wish.”
“I doubt that,” Delilah muttered.
