A Shift in the Air Read Online Free

himself, the hand that scraped over his chin,
even his scent. Low tones of her element played a melody only she
could hear as she called the air to her. Who was he? One of
Bowman’s pack? He had to be.
    Move . The order sprang to her mind, and the red crystal around her
neck warmed. Katerina always protected her, even now, dead and
gone. Once again insulating her frantic movements with her element,
she reached the fence, climbed up and over, and ran for
home.
    ***
    Liam O’Sullivan threw a credit card
down on the bar. “Jameson. Make it a double.”
    The bartender, a tattooed, pierced
hipster wearing a fucking fedora of all things, nodded. “Coming
right up.”
    Across the bar, someone was midway
through a strangled karaoke rendition of “Sea of No Cares,” one of
his favorite songs, when his thoughts turned dark. “Shite. Keep ‘em
coming.” In two swallows, the whiskey disappeared, and the slow
burn in his gut made the warbler’s abuse easier to stomach. If only
booze would quiet the constant memories and sadness that held his
heart in a vise. Eleven years. Eleven years of loneliness, pain,
and regret. That he’d received her letter three days after her
death hadn’t mattered. He’d forever associate this date with
her.
    He thanked God when the song ended,
and he sipped the second drink. He’d learned well. If he pounded
too many doubles too quickly, most bartenders would cut him off
faster than he could say “another.” Liam could toss back at least
six drinks before he felt anything, courtesy of his werewolf blood,
but he’d taken the day off today and had been working on a near
constant buzz since just after breakfast. When Livie and Shawn had
returned to the pack house with his niece, Serena, Liam had left.
While they didn’t share blood, the members of the pack were as
close as family—closer. He never wanted little Serena to see him
like he was today: full of piss and not giving a fuck what happened
to him.
    The second drink gone, he turned his
attention to the television over the bar. Two outs in the bottom of
the seventh and the Mariners were up three to one. Nodding to the
bartender, he tilted his glass. “Think Felix still has it this
year?”
    “ Damn well better. We’ve
finally got a chance. You want another?” With a quick glance, the
bartender filled Liam’s glass again before shifting his gaze to the
television. “Best pitching in the world won’t do shit without run
support.” Before Liam could reply, the man shuffled off to tend to
a group of tipsy co-eds at the other end of the bar.
    The mechanics of the game kept his
miserable thoughts at bay for a time until a breeze ruffled his
hair. The scent that haunted his dreams mixed with that of beer,
whiskey, and fries from a nearby table, and Liam slammed back his
drink, desperate to quell the memory.
    “ I’d like a Makers.
Double—neat.” A quiet voice beside him held a musical lilt, and he
turned a bleary-eyed gaze to the woman sliding a hip onto the next
stool.
    “ Put it on my tab, mate.”
Something about her called to him. The strained tenor of her tone,
the way her pale fingers twisted the bright pendant at her throat,
the raw need that twitched a muscle in her jaw. Golden chestnut
curls draped over narrow shoulders, and he blinked away the vision
of another woman, another time.
    “ Thank you.” She withdrew
her wallet and passed her credit card to the bartender. “But I can
buy my own drinks.”
    “ Suit yourself. What’s your
name?”
    “ I’m not interested in
talking.” Desire danced in her eyes for a breath, and she cocked
her head, but then turned her gaze to the baseball game, now in the
bottom of the ninth.
    “ Fine by me.” The bartender
slid both drinks along the bar, and Liam lifted his, tipping the
amber liquid towards her. “To not talking.”
    She stifled a chuckle. “To
silence.”
    “ Ya won’t find silence
here.” Liam gestured to the karaoke machine and the group of
college-aged girls