Five Weeks (Seven Series #3)

I laughed quietly. “He hasn’t played yet.”

 

 

She brushed her blond bangs to the side. “You just wait. Trevor can do anything he puts his mind to, and he’s going to knock their socks off. Plus, look at him! He looks so charismatic up there.”

 

“Trying to make me jealous?” Reno said in a gravelly voice, holding her from behind. She leaned her head back and kissed him feverishly.

 

“Is anyone else here?” I asked.

 

“Everyone! Somewhere,” she said with a laugh. “Except for Denver, and he’s pissed about it.”

 

Joker began a beat on the drums, and Trevor stepped forward and ran a bass line. Women screamed in unison, and April was one of them. Jericho laughed and shook his head, watching Trevor with disbelief.

 

The cocoa began working its way through me. “You guys have fun! Maybe we’ll bump into each other again,” I yelled over the music.

 

Jericho owned the stage, hammering out a rock song that had everyone throwing their fists into the air. I couldn’t hear my own thoughts as I made my way to the portable toilets. That was one memory I didn’t miss from our heyday.

 

After executing what I liked to call the “hovercraft pee,” I used the sanitizer on one of the tables to wash my hands and found myself bobbing my head along with Jericho’s band. As much as I loved hearing his covers of popular songs, I melted to his original stuff.

 

I bristled when a set of arms wrapped around me from behind.

 

“I’m so glad you’re okay,” I heard Ivy say.

 

I blew out a sigh of relief and turned around. “You scared me.”

 

She looked stunning in a turquoise dress with a matching necklace. “I hope you don’t think I’ve been avoiding you, Izzy. I keep to myself a lot, and you’ve been through a difficult situation,” she said, reaching for my hand. “I know you don’t want to talk about it, so I’ve been giving you space.”

 

“Thanks, Ivy. I really am fine.”

 

Her mouth twisted. “I don’t believe that’s true and I certainly hope you don’t either. But it’s okay not to be fine.” She smiled warmly and squeezed my hand. “Have you eaten?”

 

“Jericho bought me a dozen donuts.”

 

Her mouth parted as if she might say something, but her eyes were drawn to a few people in the crowd dancing.

 

“I love it here,” she said. “I’ve never been anywhere like Austin, and the Shifters here are so different. Look at this.” She waved her arm toward the crowd. “Have you ever seen so many Breeds in one place? We’re stars, you know. Different, distant, young and old, but we’re all made of the same stuff. We all shine just as bright as the next.”

 

“Hey there, lovely ladies.” A man greeted us in a jovial voice. The first thing I noticed was he didn’t have a shirt on, and the second thing was that the zipper on his knee-length shorts was wide open, unbeknownst to him. His eyes were glazed over, his speech slurred. “You need a drink?”

 

“We’re good,” I said with a short laugh. “Is there a food vendor around here? You should grab something to eat before you miss all the fun.”

 

He lifted both hands and squeezed invisible balls in the air. “Oh, I’ll grab something all right.” Then he snorted and threw his head back, looking down his nose at us. “I’m—”

 

“Just leaving,” another person cut in.

 

A handsome Native American man with chiseled bone structure and dark eyes approached from behind. He was tall, formidable, and dressed down in a black tank top and dark cargo pants.

 

I felt the familiar prickle on my skin that told me our new friend was an alpha. He folded his arms in a tough stance with his chin low, and I shivered from the power rolling off him.

 

“Just talking to these pretty ladies,” the drunk said. “There ain’t no law against it, and this is a party.”

 

Jericho’s song ended, and the crowd went nuts screaming.

 

“It’s fine,” I said. “He’s just had too much to drink.” Nothing I hadn’t seen a million times at work.

 

The shirtless drunk wiped his chest. “I’m nowhere near intoxicated. I could drink another six-pack and balance an egg on my nose.”

 

“I take it back. He’s a drunk asshole. But we’re okay here,” I said, trying to defuse the situation.

 

“Hear that? We’re fine,” the man parroted.

 

The Native American took a step forward, dropping his arms to his sides. “You’re not a Shifter.”

 

“Bravo!” he cheered, clapping his hands. “Fuckin’ genius.”

 

My shoulders sagged. It could have been a perfectly normal conversation, but there always had to be one alpha who wanted to bare his teeth. I much preferred the tail-waggers.

 

“Leave,” the alpha insisted.

 

The drunk pulled in his lips in a cartoonish fashion. “Make me.”

 

I stepped between the two men, lowering my voice. “Wait. If he’s a Mage, this won’t end well for you. Let it go.”