Chapter Six

Catherine closed the kitchen down for the night. Though the oven and stove had long since cooled, she was fuming. Two days. It had been two days since her mate said they would talk. She’d practically lived in the bar for the last two nights, refusing to go home until the wee hours of the morning after realizing she didn’t tell him where she lived or given him her phone number. The first night she felt rejected. The second night she felt hurt. Tonight… She was pissed. How dare he? Who does he think he is?

Muttering to herself she grabbed the dinner she’d made, loco moco with oyster mushrooms, and pushed through the door leading from the back hallway to behind the bar. Juno glanced over and gave her a wink before going back to mixing whatever cocktail she was creating. Catherine grumbled to herself before taking up the last stool along the bar and putting her head on her hand. She speared the fried egg and ate greedily. She scowled down at her dish, one of her favorites that she couldn’t really enjoy thanks to her careless lycan mate.

“You have got to tell me what’s bothering you,” Juno said, glaring down at her from the other side of the bar. “I’m too busy to deal with your moodiness tonight.”

“And what if I don’t, huh?” Catherine asked, allowing her anger to simmer into her words.

Juno’s eyes widened slightly at her tone but smiled nonetheless. “If you don’t, I’m not serving you tonight,” she said, holding up the tumbler of tequila she’d already poured for Catherine.

Catherine growled and glared at her friend. “Fine. I met my mate,” she said, reaching for the glass.

Juno gasped and pulled the tumbler out of her reach, sloshing some onto the floor. “WHAT?!” Juno screeched. Catherine groaned and slid her elbows forward on the bar to lay her head down. “Jenny, cover me,” Juno hollered before grabbing Catherine’s hands. “Why didn’t you tell me?”

Catherine sighed and sat up straighter, smiling down at the tequila Juno finally relinquished. She took a hefty gulp. “He was supposed to come and talk to me.”

“Earlier today?”

“Two nights ago.”

“Ouch.”

“Yeah.”

“When did you meet him? Where? How? Did you do it?”

Catherine giggled despite herself. She hadn’t told Juno because she’d been off the day they were supposed to meet and after that… well she was embarrassed. “I saw him first at the farmers market. He was with a bunch of suited dudes with tattoos all over them.”

Juno jerked upright at that. “Tattoos? Were they…” she lowered her voice. “Were they lycans?”

Catherine nodded, not liking the look on her friend’s face. “There were four of them together. One was huge with tattoos up his neck and on his hands and stuff. Another with tattoos peeking from under his shirt collar and this other dick with a tattoo right on his face…”

“Stuart,” Juno nodded. Her face paled. “Catherine the face tattoo wasn’t your…”

“No, no thank Goddess.”

Juno let out a relieved breath. “Good. He’s the Alpha’s son. A real asshat. He comes in here from time to time. I heard he rejected his true mate and now he hits on every girl with a pulse and gets severely drunk. Gets kicked out more often than not.” She shivered. “Did your mate have a lot of tattoos?” she asked, looking nervous.

Catherine thought about it. “Not that I could see.”

Juno smiled. “Good, good.”

“Why?”

She shrugged. “It sounds like they’re the Blackmoore Lycans. There are only four lycan packs in the country now, you know. The higher ups in the Blackmoore pack, alpha, beta, warriors and such are littered in tattoos for all of the people they’ve killed. The more tattoos, the more murderous. You know my Saturday Night Fever is a lycan but has no tattoos. It sounds like you lucked out. Maybe your guy is just the driver or something.”

Catherine thought about the way Graham had picked up this Stuart character and refused to be intimidated. Stuart mentioned Graham was a subordinate yet she got the impression it was more political than practical. Her mate seemed like he could snap that little twig. Yet, he didn’t have any tattoos… that she could see anyway.

She knew about the Blackmoore pack, or at least knew of their existence. It was why she settled in Sterling. It was the one place he wouldn’t come to look for her. Catherine glanced over her shoulder out of habit. A pair of fingers snapped in front of her face and Catherine jerked.

“Hello?” Juno laughed. “Welcome back to planet Earth.”

“Sorry.”

“So,” Juno said, picking up a glass to clean. “You were supposed to meet up two nights ago and he didn’t show?” Catherine sighed and shook her head. “Bummer. Here,” Juno said, handing her a lime to add to her tequila. “I have to get back to work.”

“I can keep her company!” Toma exclaimed, sliding down the bar toward her.

“Whatever, Loser,” Juno joked before walking off.

Toma sat in the chair next to her. “She’s in love with me. She’s just afraid of how much.”

Catherine snickered. “We’re all in love with you, Toma.”

Toma winked and Catherine allowed herself to check him out. He was shorter than her mate, maybe 5’10” but he was damn handsome with dark skin and curly brunette hair that went down past his ears. He had honey gold eyes that stood out against his complexion and that were perpetually squinted in humor. He’d slept with just about every female worker in the place, probably the town. She bit her lip as he gave her a quizzical look.

“You okay, Chica? Where’s your hulking lycan dude?” he asked, sipping his beer.

Catherine growled. “Why doesn't everyone mind their own business?”

“Sheesh, sorry!”

“Wait.” Catherine gripped his forearm. He froze with his beer halfway to his mouth. “How do you know about him?”

“Ah.” His face turned a cute shade of red. “He kind of told me to never touch you again or he’d kill me.” Toma shrugged and her mouth fell open.

“What a jerk!”

“Not quite the word I would use, but yeah.” Toma laughed.

“He could probably tell I thought you were hot,” she whispered. Beside her, Toma spewed his beer. Catherine stared down at her tequila. She’d only drunk half of the tumbler but the effects were already settling along the nerve endings of her arms and legs. Her brain felt muddled and she felt like she might fall off her stool if she wasn’t careful.

“How much have you had to drink?” he asked, taking her tequila before she could answer. He downed it and slammed it on the bar before making a face. “Gross.”

Catherine tried to glare at him but had to grip the bar to keep from swaying. She put a hand to her head. In the back of her mind she could vaguely hear Toma asking if she was okay. She tried to speak, to reassure him but her voice was caught in her throat. Toma called out to Juno. Then her vision went black.