Rock This Wolf (ICRA Files: Berlin Book 1) Read online

  Not nearly enough to dispel the volatile blend of emotions.

  “Dominik?” I rapped my knuckles against the door.

  It creaked open. I gently pushed it aside, then peered into the darkened room. The bed was unmade, the pillows crumpled, and a light duvet partially hung off the mattress.

  My heartbeat pulsed against my ears in a deafening rhythm.

  This wasn’t right.

  Dominic never got out of bed for the first twelve hours.

  I stepped over the threshold as I scanned the corners.

  “Dominik?” I asked again.

  But my brother wasn’t there.

  Chapter 2

  A growl rose behind me—only a trickle at first. Then the sound built up into thunder that sliced through the still with a menace that made my hairs stand on end.

  Fuck.

  Fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck.

  This couldn’t be happening. Not so soon and not while I was trapped in this godsdamned bedroom with no way out thanks to the reinforced glass and indestructible walls designed to contain a raging werewolf.

  I willed every muscle in my body to freeze, focusing on ridding myself of the fear I could smell in my scent like a rank perfume.

  If this were another one of Dominik’s episodes, my brother wouldn’t recognize me. He wouldn’t know me as his flesh and blood. All he’d see was prey—weak, pathetic, cornered prey—ready to be slaughtered.

  And unless I played this right, that was precisely how I’d end up.

  Step one—show no fear.

  Step two—turn the fuck around and face him.

  Dragging up every ounce of assertiveness in my body, I pivoted. Dominik stood in the shadows beyond the threshold, a shaft of light hitting the side of his face.

  His human face.

  “Dominik?” I approached, but I left a moderate amount of distance between us. He might not have shifted into a wolf, but things were far from fine. “What are you doing out of bed?”

  “Just go, Gina.”

  He stepped aside to make room for me, but when the sunlight illuminated more of his features, moving became an impossible feat.

  Even during the worst of times, there had always been a spark in my brother’s eyes. A glow to his tawny skin and a hint of a smile in the corners of his mouth that never faded. That was gone now. My brother was a gaunt wisp crafted of hard planes, and the way he looked at me…

  It was just as bad, maybe even worse, than if he would have shifted.

  “You shouldn’t be up so soon.” I crossed over to him, but my brother moved away. “Dominik…”

  “I don’t want you here.” He dragged a hand over his cropped hair. “Fuck, what about leave don’t you get, Gina?”

  The words fell upon me like a series of slaps. But beneath the hurt, anger rose and spilled out with a force I couldn’t stop.

  “What’s wrong with you?” I growled. “Why are you being like this?”

  Dominik’s laugh was a broken, cynical thing that stirred the shadows engulfing his form. “What’s wrong with me? Seriously? You’re asking what’s wrong with me?”

  Fine, I could have phrased that shit better, but Dominik knew full well what I was talking about and made a conscious choice to be difficult.

  “I could smell your fear, Gina,” he snarled.

  “Yeah, because you fucking startled me.” I threw my hands in the air.

  But Dominik only shook his head as he strode toward the door leading out of the cottage. For a second, I just stared at his back, then trailed behind him. He didn’t get to walk away from this conversation that easily. Though certainly not for lack of effort on his part.

  Although Dominik’s gait was pained, as if he were pulling up the dregs of his strength, he didn’t stop even as we wandered out into the daylight. I squinted to let my eyes adjust to the sudden change, then hastened my step to catch up with my brother’s stubborn ass as he walked up to the lake. His scent presented a knotted mess of emotions I couldn’t untangle, but when I joined him on the small pier and sat by his side, he didn’t tell me to leave again.

  I followed his gaze to the shattered planks and broken support beam jutting out of the water ahead. A snapped lime tree sapling lay on the bank to the right, dipping its branches into the lake.

  “You know what all of this means, right?” Dominik said steadily. Too steadily.

  He was fighting to remain in control—the kind that had nothing to do with shifting into wolf form and everything to do with those knotted emotions leaking into the air.

  “You had an episode, Dominik, that’s all.”

  “Yeah.” He snorted. “The second one in a month. Lasted longer, too. Don’t play dumb to spare my feelings, Gina.” He met my gaze. “The curse is getting worse.”

  Though my chest tightened to the point where breathing became uncomfortable, I shook my head and said, “We’re still searching for a witch—”

  “Don’t you think you would have found one by now?” He grabbed a pebble off the pier, then flung it into the water. “It’s been nine years, Gina. Everyone you dragged up here said there’s no reversing this crap.”

  “We just haven’t found the right person yet.”

  I refused to believe anything else. There was no chance in all the godsdamned realms I’d just roll over and accept that the magic that had hit my brother when everything had gone to shit was permanent. It was energy, damn it. And energy could be manipulated. At least softened, if not undone entirely.

  Dominik had once shared my conviction. But looking in his eyes now…

  That wasn’t the case anymore.

  He grabbed another pebble, then chucked it into the lake. “This is my life, Gina. This is my fucking life, and I’m fucking tired of it.”

  I opened my mouth, but no words came out. My brother’s hurt, the utter void where that kernel of hope had once rested, tightened a noose around my neck. Dominik was only twenty-three. He still had so much ahead of him.

  “I wish you’d stop trying.” He wiped his hands against his jeans, locking his haunted gaze on mine. “I know I’m ready to.”

  I tugged down the zipper on my leather jacket as the sun emerged from behind the smattering of clouds, highlighting the white awnings covering the long line of stalls that stretched ahead. The chilly air whisked against my skin, but being a werewolf, low temps didn’t affect me quite as much as they did the bundled-up humans ogling the wares—far fewer in number than I normally encountered during my Sunday Mauerpark trips. Granted, it was still early in the morning, and with the looks that the day was starting to serve, I didn’t doubt the flea market would be overrun in a matter of hours.

  Normally, I’d bask in the lack of people, the calmness of the atmosphere. I wasn’t a fan of crowds—except for concert ones, with their pleasant buzz of excitement that created a unique connection among all present parties. Right now, though, I wouldn’t have minded the energy and chitchat of people to drown out the thoughts that no amount of blues and alcohol I’d consumed last night had been able to cure.

  One of the regular sellers I passed by waved at me before returning his attention to the woman deciding between two tin boxes. Normal life. It was a balm as much as it was a harsh reminder that not everyone had it this good.

  I skirted around a group of teens sifting through vintage clothes as I kept searching for the one thing that might put me in a better mood. Self-care had many shapes. And, sometimes, it came in the form of new vinyl added to the collection.

  The first stall was a bust with records mainly from genres I didn’t listen to. The second had such inflated prices I didn’t even bother looking. But the third…

  I exchanged a quick greeting with the seller, whom I’d never seen before. He seemed more interested in reading his book than chatting, which was more than fine by me, so I delved into exploring the display boxes. The almost-curated selection made me think this had to have been a private collection, maybe two, jumbled together. I flipped through the records, my mind sl
ipping into that pleasant state I’d desperately needed. Mentally, I marked a Muddy Waters record I wouldn’t mind owning, but something nagged me on.

  When I reached the final vinyl in the box, I almost let out an extremely unwerewolf-like squeal. But shit, this was Rev the Desire I was holding. Rev the Desire. One of the rarest Whiskey Jet Preacher singles out there.

  I glanced at the price tag on the box.

  “Everything in here is nine euros?” I asked the seller. This seemed too good to be true.

  But the guy just nodded.

  “Everything on this side”—he gestured to the boxes on his right, including the one I pulled the single from—“is nine euros. These over here are six.”

  “Thanks.” I traced my thumb down the side of the record, then, with an urgency that was probably way overdone, added, “I’ll take it.”

  “Are you sure you don’t want to browse around a bit more?” he asked even as he extended his hand for the money I was pulling out of my wallet.

  “Oh, I will.” I waved the euro he wanted to return away as I carefully hugged the record to my chest. “But I needed this baby to be mine first.”

  The guy chuckled and returned to his book, leaving me to my own devices. I sifted through the remaining boxes, but I didn’t find any other Whiskey Jet Preachers records or anything else I didn’t already own. After a brief consideration, I purchased the Muddy Waters vinyl. Before I could move on, though, a girl who struck me as familiar, but whom I couldn’t quite place, approached the stall. She eyed Rev the Desire tucked under my arm.

  “Now that’s a find.” She flicked her gaze up to me. “You didn’t happen to see another copy, did you?”

  I glanced at the guy, but he was too engrossed in his novel to pitch in.

  “Sorry,” I said to the girl as I moved away from the stall. “I think I nabbed the only one.”

  “Shame.” She puffed out her lower lip, though there was no true resentment lingering in her scent.

  Why the human seemed so familiar hit me then.

  “You were in the front row at the WJP concert in January, weren’t you?” I asked as she fell into step beside me.

  A screaming kid barreled toward us, and we parted to let the little guy pass. The dad who rushed after him reeked of annoyance I didn’t care for. Why people had kids if they thought of them as a chore was beyond me.

  The girl tucked her black hair behind her ears, then adjusted the strap of her messenger bag. “I was, yeah. You were right from the center of the stage, weren’t you?”

  I couldn’t help the smile that pulled on my lips as memories flooded back in as I nodded. That had been a damn fantastic night with a setlist three songs longer than usual.

  “I’m Julia, by the way.” The girl offered me a pale hand adorned with silver rings.

  “Gina. Are you coming to the Aufruhr gig?”

  “Oh, yeah.” She slowed as another vinyl stand came up on the right, but the records on display must have given her the same impression I got. Not my kind of music. “If you’re there early, maybe we can keep each other company before the doors open? My friend bailed on me because it’s her boyfriend’s birthday, and he isn’t the concert-going type.”

  “Such sacrilege.” I placed my free hand over my heart, then grinned. “Sure, if we bump into each other, I wouldn’t mind the company.”

  I’d gained a lot of acquaintances that way throughout the years. Not friends-friends, since my job made it difficult to really stay in touch with people and be there for them when they needed me—Finn and a few other fellow agents being the exception—but good people I enjoyed catching up with over a beer or two at events, nonetheless.

  When I spotted an ice-cream stand up ahead, I pointed it out to Julia. She seemed more than eager to go along with my plan. An elderly couple wadded off with their cones right as we approached. Julia picked two scoops of pistachio while I went with a chocolate-chip-cookie-dough and coffee combo. We strolled over to an empty sunlit bench and parked our butts—me being extra careful of the precious cargo I hauled around. I’d never forgive myself if I got bench dirt or ice-cream on the records.

  “Any particular songs you’re hoping to hear?” I asked as I tackled my cone. Damn, this shit was good.

  Julia considered my question for a moment. “Well, “Hooked” and “Backseat Boogie” are my faves.”

  “Must have been thrilled when they played them both last time, huh?”

  The broad grin that stretched across Julia’s face made me chuckle into my ice cream. I licked a rogue smear off my lips, then watched Julia pluck her phone from her purse. After a few swipes, she pulled up a recording of the January show—if my memory of Aric’s outfit served me right. It did, of course. Hard to forget the vampire in those black jeans that showed off his long legs so damn well.

  Julia hit play, and though the sound didn’t really come through with the growing ruckus around us, I recognized the opening riff to “Backseat Boogie” straight away. Gods, Wednesday couldn’t come soon enough. I had no idea when I’d devoured my ice cream, but when the song ended and Julia swiped to the next recording, there was nothing left but the thin napkin in my hands.

  “Thanks for this,” I said when the final tunes of “Hooked” were over.

  Julia swiped forward with a wide grin on her face, breezing through the gallery. Though there were a few shots of the other band members, the photos were mostly of Aric.

  “He’s so gorgeous, isn’t he?” she gushed, barely sparing me a glance. Which worked out just well for me since a kernel of discomfort I couldn’t quite place stirred in the pit of my stomach. “I won a backstage tour last year, and I got to meet all the guys. Aric was so sweet. He showed me around and hugged me before I left.”

  “That’s lovely,” I said—and I meant it, even if there was so much more I couldn’t force myself to voice.

  Experiences like that were incredible for fans, and Aric was a charmer who knew how to make a person feel welcome. Appreciated. I doubted there was anyone immune to his charms. Yet, as much as I wanted to share Julia’s perfectly fine enthusiasm, a blockage formed in my throat.

  Ugh, well, wasn’t this fucking annoying? It wasn’t like anything was going on between Aric and me. I wouldn’t even call us friends. Just two people who weren’t strangers who shared a drink or three after a show. And yet, as much as I tried to overcome this damn hesitation to fangirl with Julia as I, by all godsdamned means, should, I couldn’t bring myself to do it.

  My aunts teasing me about Aric was one thing. This…

  Julia lowered her phone into her lap, letting out a long breath. “Gods, I hope I’ll be able to meet him again. They packed up and left so fast last time, but maybe this concert will be different.” She shrugged, meeting my gaze with unfiltered hope in her hungry eyes that I could relate to, yet, at the same time, sent me into a massive shielding mode. “I know one of the security guards at the venue. He said if he can, he’ll get me backstage or at least tell me where I need to be to run into Aric. Oh, you’re more than welcome to join me, of course.”

  A subtle tint in her tone told me that she’d prefer to bump into Aric alone, and why wouldn’t she? Aric was hot as fuck, single as far as I knew—unless something changed over these past few months—and Julia was lovely.

  “You’ve met him before, right?” Julia asked. “I saw a photo of you two under the WJP hashtag.”

  I should have known social media would come to bite me in the ass. I didn’t even post much, for gods’ sake, but I hadn’t been able to resist putting that photo up—the only one I had of the two of us together, which was with Aric’s arm around my waist and both of us laughing at one of Ewart’s jokes.

  “Uhm, yeah, yeah, I met him.” Several times was what I didn’t say. I tossed my twists over one shoulder as I searched for words that would steer the conversation away, but my mind produced nothing useful. “It was a long time ago, though.”

  Not entirely a lie. That picture had been taken three years
ago.

  Julia either didn’t pick up on my discomfort or just didn’t care. “That was an afterparty, right?”

  When I nodded, she leaned back against the bench and stretched her legs out in front of her as she tipped her head toward the sun and briefly closed her eyes.

  “That would be such a dream,” she whispered into the warming air. I thought that would be the end of it, but right as I started to relax, she glanced at me once more. “How did that happen, anyway? Sorry, I’m prying, I know, but I never managed to figure out how to get an invite.”

  I had to think back to how it had come to pass that first time. Not the afterparty Julia was referring to since I couldn’t share that info without giving out way more than I was comfortable with, but the one that started it all. The first time I’d spoken with Aric, probably just as starry-eyed as Julia.

  “It wasn’t a large show.” Again, not a lie since both concerts were of the smaller club variety. “I crossed paths with Ewart when he slipped into the crowd after the show to get more booze.” I snorted at the memory. They ran out of whiskey in the back. The horror of all horrors. “He remembered me from the crowd, so he asked if I wanted to join him for a drink. I thought we’d share one at the bar, but he took me to the afterparty instead.”

  Though that particular story was a fun one, I hoped I hadn’t just marked the drummer as some gatekeeper to afterparties.

  Julia gaped. “Wow. That’s…that’s kind of like something straight out of fanfic.”

  “I think a fanfic would take things way farther than just a drink.” I winked, but I didn’t truly feel the playfulness. That same weird sensation continued to dig into my stomach. “It was lovely meeting the band, but the afterparty was tame. Just drinking and chatting.”

  “Man, I’d still murder to get into one.” Julia sighed. “Do you think—”

  My phone let out a shrill ring that made Julia jump. I shot her an apologetic look even as I eagerly pulled the device from my jacket pocket.

  “I’m sorry, but I have to take this. It’s work.” I rose from the bench as the phone kept screeching, the records tucked safely under my arm. “We’ll see each other Wednesday!”