Control (Blood & Bone Enforcers MC)

Snorting to herself, she shut the door and hit the lock button. It was a motorcycle club bar she was thinking about. The last thing on the minds of a bunch of badass, hardened shifters would be prettying up their headquarters.

A burst of laughter drew her attention and she looked to the door, watching as two men stumbled out. Humans, she thought. Her eyebrow raised as she glanced toward the setting sun. It was a little early to be that drunk, but who was she to judge? Other than the occasional glass of wine, she’d never had a drink before. She drank wine because she liked the taste, but she’d never been drunk. Shifters couldn’t achieve that state unless they drank copious amounts of alcohol, something she never had any interest in doing.

Maybe being drunk was an amazing feeling, and that was why the men were plastered so early in the evening. She didn’t know, but it wasn’t important. What was important was seeing the intoxicated men had given her the perfect excuse to stall, but that ended now.

Suck it up, buttercup. They’re not going to bite, she lectured to herself as she made her way to the entrance.

Opening the door, she stepped inside, digging her nails into her palms as she waited for her eyes to adjust to the dim interior. The inside was a little better than the outside. It was still a lot of brown—the walls, floor, and tables were all wood. But the bar was shiny, a rich cherry wood, and there were more neon lights hung up, advertising various beers and liquors.

“Can I help you, sweetheart?”

Tarun turned toward the friendly voice, meeting the questioning eyes of a waitress. She smiled, feeling a little more comfortable at the presence of another woman. It seemed like everyone else in the bar was a man.

Nodding gratefully, she glanced around once more before looking back at the woman. Georgie, her name tag read. “Yes, please. I’m looking for a man.”

Georgie laughed ruefully. “You’ll have to be a bit more specific, honey. Look around. This place is full of men.”

Shaking her head, Tarun chuckled, half in response to her own ridiculous statement, and half in response to Georgie’s laughter. “Sorry. I’m looking for Luke. Luke Carlisle, to be more specific.”

In an instant, Georgie’s whole demeanor changed. The smile dropped from her face, her eyes hardened, and her lips tightened as she looked Tarun over. “Best find another man to set your sights on. Outsiders aren’t welcome, as far as he’s concerned. Besides, he’s taken. And I don’t share.”

Mouth popping open, she watched as Georgie spun on her heel and walked away, her hips sashaying in a way that, to Tarun at least, was clearly forced. Disbelief and anger coursed through her veins, two sensations that were mostly unfamiliar to her, but understood, given Georgie’s words.

What wasn’t familiar or understood was the way her heart stopped and then sank like a stone to her stomach, a lump welling up in her throat. Why the woman’s words bothered her so much, she didn’t know.

But she knew she didn’t like it.

Luke Carlisle spun his beer bottle around on the bar top, starting to push it away before he stopped himself. He’d never really cared for the taste of any kind of alcohol, although he knew some shifters drank because they enjoyed it. But the patrons of the bar he and his fellow Enforcers ran would notice if he didn’t have an occasional drink, and they tried not to attract attention like that.

Sometimes, having their own small motorcycle club and using a bar for their headquarters was a pain in the fucking ass.

Raising the bottle to his lips, he took a long pull, keeping the grimace off his face at the bitter taste. He’d never understand why humans liked that shit so much—or the shifters who enjoyed it, either.

“The hell is wrong with you tonight, Luke?”

He glanced up at Blake, the Enforcer leader, and the MC’s President, for all intents and purposes. He was behind the counter, wiping off a glass, his look impassive as he watched Luke. But he could see it. The concern Blake was almost, but not quite, hiding in his dark blue eyes.

Fuck. He hated that look.

“Nothing’s wrong. Just not feeling the bar scene tonight.”

“The same way you haven’t been feeling it for two years now, right? You’ve got to let it go. Get that bullshit out of your head and move on. Everyone else, including Vynn, has moved passed it. Time for you to do the same.”

Brow twitching, he picked at the label on his bottle, not saying anything. Maybe everyone else was over it, but he wasn’t. Because he had no way of knowing if he’d fail to control his gift again like he needed to.

Two years ago, there’d been a war brewing between two shifter groups, the Rocky River fighters and the War Cats. It had all been based on a misunderstanding, one that had the potential to turn deadly. It might have, but the Enforcers got there just as two tigers were fighting—Ian and Vynn.

Luke’s gift was controlling shifter abilities. He could force them to shift from their animal bodies to their human skins, or vice versa. His gift was one that was useful as an Enforcer—in fact, it was a big part of why he was accepted into their fold. Being able to fight, in human and animal form, was a large part of it. But more important was their shifter gifts. His was good enough to allow him a spot with the Enforcers.

But it did no one any good if he couldn’t fucking control it.

He’d struggled with it for basically his whole life but had finally been conquering it. Until that day when the tigers were fighting and he used too much power in his voice. Ian had been able to remain conscious, but Vynn was knocked out cold, resulting in his tiger not being able to heal him in the moment, and leaving him with a nasty scar down his cheek.

“You know Vynn’s tiger could have healed him when he woke up, but chose not to,” Blake said, pulling him from his thoughts. “And we all know it was because Vynn was a dickhead. That had nothing to do with you or your gift.”

Luke’s lips tightened as he pushed his beer away. “I’m gonna take a walk. I’ll be back later.”

Ignoring Blake’s protest, he shoved off his stool and walked to the back hallway, making his way outside. Georgie tried to stop him along the way, the look in her eyes inviting as always, but he just shook his head as he continued on. He’d never been interested in her like that, but he’d run out of ways to let her down easy, as well as the patience to keep trying to protect her feelings.