Broken Bond by C.J. Primer

13

CALLUM

“Of course,” I mutter under my breath as I look up at the house in front of me, my navigation app confirming that I’ve reached my destination. I mean, it comes as no surprise that Nessa’s family home is picture perfect, but the literal white picket fence out front is a little over the top. Everything about the setting screams that a happy family resides here, and even from my spot at the curb, I feel uncomfortably out of place; like my mere presence will somehow darken the vibe.

I curl my fingers around the leather steering wheel of Levi’s truck- my borrowed ride for the evening- and look expectantly toward the front door as it swings open and Nessa steps out. I swear, every time I see this fuckin girl, it’s like the first time. She’s effortlessly gorgeous, the wintry breeze catching strands of her glossy dark hair like she’s a model on a photoshoot. She smooths it away from her face with a hand and starts down the front walk, my eyes lingering on the exposed skin of her bronze thighs as I hungrily drag my tongue across the seam of my lips.

She’s dressed the part of a girl going to a rock show in thigh high leather boots, a dark denim mini skirt, a faded cropped T, and a leather moto jacket- and damn does she wear it well. By the time she reaches the passenger door of the truck, I’m practically salivating, my heart banging around in my chest at a chaotic rhythm. 1

“Hey, handsome,” Nessa purrs as she climbs inside, fastening her seatbelt and hitting me with a megawatt smile.

I drag in a deep breath through my nose, reveling in that sweet cherry and floral scent that surrounds her. “You look like fuckin’ trouble,” I groan, giving her a slow and purposeful once-over as I shamelessly adjust my junk. Her eyes track the movement and her cheeks pink in a blush, her wolf making herself known through metallic shimmers in her irises.

“You look good, too,” Nessa smiles. She doesn’t even try to mask her roaming gaze, nibbling her lower lip while making an obvious show of checking me out. I square my shoulders and puff out my chest as I shift the truck into drive, not minding the weight of her appreciative stare one bit.

I punch our destination into the GPS as we roll down the street, hesitant about the evening ahead but eager to spend it with the little minx seated beside me. She almost bailed after her bestie wrecked her car yesterday, but Chase swooped in and stole Vienna away to recover at his packhouse, relieving Nessa of any duty to stick around to take care of her friend. Honestly, had she cancelled, I probably wouldn’t have bothered making the trip on my own.

“I hear Vienna’s doing better,” I comment as I pull out of her hometown of Riverton and onto the main road that winds through the forest.

“She is. Chase finally let me come see her this morning.” Nessa sighs dramatically, folding her arms over her chest. “I swear, that friend of yours had better get his shit together if he’s serious about Vienna. One minute he’s accusing her of being a gold digger, and the next, he’s begging to take care of her, threatening me to get out of his way…”

“He threatened you?” I growl, my head snapping in her direction as a wave of instinctive protectiveness rolls through me. It catches me off guard, but before the foreign emotion has a chance to escalate, she relieves it with a soft giggle.

“Well not literally,” Nessa laughs, tossing her hair over a shoulder. “He went all caveman on me at the infirmary, though. Said if I didn’t get out of the doorway and let him in, he’d forcibly remove me.” She punctuates her story with an eyeroll, flopping her head back on the seat. “What’s his deal, anyways?”

“He’s just going through a rough time lately,” I murmur, flexing my knuckles on the steering wheel. “Losing his dad really fucked him up.” That familiar pang hits me in the chest like it does every time I mention. Alpha Vaughn.

Nessa sinks her teeth into her lower lip, her eyes sympathetic. “I can’t even imagine,” she whispers, shaking her head.

We ride in a comfortable silence for a while, listening to the radio and navigating out of the six-pack territory and onto the highway. When we start to lose the station, she insists that we should listen to the band that we’re going to see, finding a few of their songs on Spotify, connecting her phone to the car stereo, and pumping them through the speakers. It’s not the genre that I typically listen to, but I enjoy the little show she puts on dancing in the passenger seat to try to hype me up. She shimmies her shoulders, throwing me suggestive little winks and waggling her eyebrows. It’s pretty fuckin’ adorable.

When we’re about ten minutes out, I reach

into the pocket of my leather jacket, fingering a joint and debating whether I need it to take the edge off. Just being around Nessa seems to level me out, but the situation I’m about to walk into is full of triggers- critical eyes on my art, wandering eyes on my girl, and drunk, aggressive humans that I absolutely can’t lose my temper with. Given my shifter strength and the restlessness of my inner beast lately, killing someone is a very real possibility; one I’d prefer to avoid.

I pull the joint out of my pocket, holding it up and side-eyeing Nessa. “You care if I blaze before we get there?”

She gives a little shake of her head, watching me pinch the joint between my lips and light the tip. I drag in a deep inhale, holding the smoke in my lungs for a few beats.

from the passenger seat, and I choke

“You serious?”

a shoulder. ”

between keeping my eyes on the road and stealing glances at the beauty beside me. Nessa raises it to her plump lips, wrapping them around the end

some reason, the sight of her sucking on the joint like that has my cock thickening beneath

lips and immediately launches into a coughing fit, sputtering as she expels the smoke from her lungs. I chuckle, reaching over to pluck the smoldering joint from

wheezes, clutching at her chest. “It burns!”

laughing at her expense, offering her another hit once she’s caught her breath. She wrinkles her nose and shakes her head, so I take a few more drags before

I do it wrong?” Nessa asks, still stifling a

you just have to get used to it,” I reply as I slide

with their frontman about the art he’s interested in, he said he’d put my name on

big brown eyes half-lidded. I grab the folder of artwork that

the folder under my arm and brushing her hair

at me through her eyelashes and nods solemnly, then cracks a mischievous smile. “I

Maybe letting you smoke wasn’t such a

in offense. “I’m fine!” she declares defensively, swatting at my chest with

us in, passing us

is dim, the scent of stale smoke and booze clinging to the walls. within. There’s a large sectional in the far corner where three guys are posted up, one with a sleazy looking blonde draped over his lap. The other two are

chatting in low voices. They look over when we enter, and the shorter of the two pushes off the wall, advancing in our direction.

“Cal Conway?”

arm around Nessa’s waist and tucking her in

a hand as he approaches. “Slade. I’m

a firm shake, holding eye contact. “Nice to

His gaze drifts to the beauty beside me, raking up and down her form unabashedly. He licks

she chirps, sticking out her hand. I grind my molars as he takes it, shaking

a beat longer than I’m comfortable with before he turns back to me. “You

one of his bandmates from the couch provides with a snicker, lifting the

out from my grip around her waist, wandering boldly toward the

This girl is too

guy drowning under

answers immediately.

who were shooting the vodka when we walked in exchange devious glances, then get to work mixing a drink for Nessa. I watch their every move like a hawk to ensure they don’t try to slip anything into it, their sleazy leers at my girl putting me on

Slade asks, gesturing to the folder still

eyes off Nessa, Slade claps me on the shoulder, offering me another lazy grin. “Don’t worry about your girl, Greg and Marco will take good care of her while we

body tenses until he removes his hand from my shoulder, spinning around and gesturing for me to follow him to a high-top table on the other side of the room. I slap the folder down on the surface and another guy rounds my other side, boxing me