It was something she’d never done. Ever.
She couldn’t even fill up the Bella Luna for one night, let alone thirty consecutive nights.
The more she dwelled on it, the more she saw her hope slipping away.
Tears burned behind her eyes as she hurried down the sidewalk to the alley where she’d parked. She blinked furiously, trying to hold back the tears, and prayed she wouldn’t run into anyone she knew.
Even though it was only noon, the tall, historic buildings loomed over the alley, blocking the winter sun’s warmth and chilling her to the bone.
Kate swiped at the tears trickling down her cheeks. The urge to get home and curl up in her warm bed made it almost painful to breathe.
She’d never missed her mother more.
Blinded by her tears, she stumbled across the uneven brick pavement and tumbled to the ground. Loose gravel and rock bit into her palms and knees. She didn’t bother holding her tears back now. She was alone with no one to hear her.
Under the bruising weight of hopelessness, she hung her head and sobbed, letting the tears flow free.
***
The soft sounds of a woman crying drifted down the alley where Braxton had parked his Harley.
He’d driven from Shreveport, only stopping to get gas, and had arrived in Eureka Springs around noon. He knew the biker bar on the Historical Loop was known for their wings and for their reputation of not remembering who came and went. Charles Manson could escape from prison, grab a snack and a game of pool, and when questioned the patrons would claim they never heard of the guy.
He had been starving and planned on stopping long enough to grab something to eat before traveling on to Missouri.
His heart hitched as the female sobs grew louder. The one thing that always got to him was a woman crying.
Easing further into the shadows of the alley, Braxton didn’t see anything at first. A small movement on the ground near the dumpster drew his attention. A petite blonde woman was sitting back on her knees, her hands covering her face and sobbing like someone had ripped out her heart.
“Are you okay?”
The woman jerked her head up. Pushing herself to her feet, she stood. The uneven brick pavers caught the heel of her shoe and she stumbled. Braxton wrapped his arm around her waist to steady her.
“I’m fine.” She kept her head down, swiping her hand across her face to dry her tears. Her dark blonde hair curtained her face, hiding her features from his gaze.
She pushed his hands away and took a step back. Her heel stuck in another crevice and pitched her forward into his chest. Automatically, he wrapped his arms around her and pulled her into his chest.
“I’ve got you.” Braxton tried to swallow as her sweet scent muddled his brain. His blood heated from the feel of her small but firm breasts pressing into his chest. She might have been petite, but, damn, did she have a body. His dick hardened and strained forward.
Unaware of the physical effect she was having on him, the woman looked down at her foot, wriggling her heel free from the crack. She was so very close. Closing his eyes, he inhaled deep, drawing her delicious scent inside his body, memorizing it. She wasn’t a werewolf, but her unique scent was the most fascinating thing he’d ever encountered.
“You smell like fresh snow on cedar trees.”
She looked up at him and blinked. Her beautiful brown eyes so serious. “Must be floor cleaner. I mopped before I came into town.”
He would have laughed if he hadn’t been so startled by her beauty. She could be no more than twenty-five and her teary golden-brown eyes hypnotized him and had his heart racing like the latest Harley Davidson.
He shook his head, but couldn’t bring himself to let her go. “No, you smell nothing like floor cleaner.”
She cleared her throat and stepped back. Reluctantly, he let her slip out of his arms.
“Are you sure you’re…” His gaze stopped at the pendant dangling around her neck. Reaching out, he brushed his fingertips across the moonstone shaped into a crescent moon. It was the same symbol female Weres wore when they were mated.
He narrowed his gaze on her. It didn’t add up. Her scent was clearly not wolf, yet she wore the pendant of being mated. He gritted his teeth as jealousy flooded his veins. “Where did you get that?”
She clenched the pendant in her palm. “My mother gave me this when I was a little girl.”
He glanced at her bare right hand and relaxed. “I thought maybe your boyfriend gave it to you.” Her mother had probably bought the pendant from a pawnshop. Werewolves had money troubles, just like humans, and sometimes were forced to sell their prized possessions to make ends meet.