~WHO'S YOUR BOSS~

~CASSELBA'S POV

I DIDN'T HEAR FROM CADEN HALLOW FOR DAYS AFTER OUR DATE. Ryan occasionally called to cutely ask about me. I shut the doors of our mind link but it didn't matter, Caden had already put me out.

It seemed my suggestion angered him but I wasn't in the least bit sorry. I wanted both men, not one of them. I had a busy schedule throughout the week and only on Sunday did I have time to finally go on the hunt.

The hunt for a Feral...

A feral werewolf that would lead me straight to their Alpha, Hiram Arespoulos, a big mother-fucking murderous dickhead.

My first choice of a hunting ground was one of the bars along the countryside. It was one of those places where you could always find someone, no matter the ungodly hour. Men were always there, either drinking or smoking, or worse—brawling. For the mission I was embarking on, I needed spandex and boots not skirts or heels.

As the Sunday afternoon slowly dims to a magical evening, I quickly undress and walk to my bedroom closet. My wardrobe for the evening was black—all beautiful, classic black.

I put on a pair of dark stretchy jeans, a tight black cropped-top that admittedly accentuated my bust, and topping it, a shiny black leather jacket. I slipped my feet into heeled boots that rose up to my calves. They were alligator skin and sweet obsidian.

I looked Goth as Batman.

As I stare in the mirror with my brown hair in a sleek bun, I'm aware of what my dressing signified.

Candid Female Power.

Just like the tattoos right under the denim, over my right hip. The tattoos were another mystery of mine entirely and my mind was moving back to recall the events that led to it when my phone buzzed on the bed. I hurry across from the mirror to it, grabbing it off the white sheets.

The lit screen glints at me.

4pm.

I smile then. I was right on time. The bastards won't know what hit them.

I take a final glance at the mirror before I walk out to my garage. The sheet wall slides up and I move in. I spy my black Aston shined and ready for use but I ignore it. The vehicle I needed now had to be fast, provocative, and fierce, and none other filled all the dots like the robed mobile in the corner.

I walk to it and lift up the brown vehicle cover. I smile in thrilled delight as I look upon the monstrosity before. A tangle of metal machine and a sweep of beautiful black.

My 1986 vintage Harley-Davidson.

The bike looked to be in stellar condition as I pushed it out of the garage. The sheet gate slides back down after I walk out.

The motorbike is supposed to feel heavy in my grip but my lupine hormones have already kicked in, and all I feel is the raw engine power underneath.

I straddle the bike and fire it up. The loud rumble of machine life instantly fills the air. I push it forward and in a matter of seconds, I'm speeding off to country.

The metal under me pulses with the force of the passing wind and I revel in the soft sounds of nature all around me. My wolf loved this. We loved this. I loved being free and wild.

Up until Hiram the Bastard murdered my entire pack, I'd always ridden the bike. I'd always worn trousers and jackets and—on rare occasions, the felt hat. But when I revived that awful day in the Woods to the massacre that was once the RavenClaw pack, I had to forfeit it all. I had to go undercover in order to plot the perfect revenge.

I had to step down as the only black female Luna and become known as a Professor to the human world. For me to destroy the Ferals, I had to give them the pleasure of feeling strong. Their ego would be their downfall; just like the Trojans I taught in my history lessons.

My bike rumbles to a break off the highway. It was detailed as a construction site but only werewolves and a few humans who were privy to our existence knew that the sign was just a hoax. The government never disturbed, because we had people there too.

Contrary to what some might think, Shifters didn't only just spend their time running around the forest. We loved power too, and the ambitious ones went for it.

I drive for about two minutes, taking three kilometers in that timeframe until I halt before my destination.

A boisterous MC bar.

The evening is now more of dusk and I hear loud noises of drunk cowboy patrons from within as I climb off the bike. A few bystanders peer at me in wonder. I see the astonishment in their eyes.

A woman who handled a Harley?

The gazes of a few light up at me and a few seconds later, I smell the arousal in the air. They found it hot that a woman could handle such machine power.

The doors to the bar creak a little as I push them open and walk in. Just like all the other spirited women who've braved male strongholds in the past, all eyes fall to me. I spot their drunken smiles tighten to a glower, then a frown, then ire.

Fucking misogynistic pricks!

In their little minds, a woman should not dress up too 'powerfully'. She should know her place. Their eyes bore into my form and I could feel their gazes lingering on the flesh of my body. I meet their eyes with equal fire, daring any of them to be stupid enough to go racist on me.

To their credit, none of them move. I look down and then see the reason. My claws were out, sparkly obsidian and sharper than blades; a deadly combination.

The women in the bar display tattoos and piercings. It's either the former, latter, or both. Their eyes on me are polite, somewhat reverent. I suppose it's pretty hard to stand up to such a biased male community.

It was clear in their looks that they saw me as some Femme Fatale. To me, it was personal. The Ferals murdered my family, the only family I had. I was bringing them down—to Hell.

I move for the counter and grab a stool. After some seconds, the men avert their eyes and continue their discussions. The bartender walks close and opens his mouth.

"Nice entrance, lady. What can I get ya?"

I look over him, noticing his hidden Welsh accent. He's a big dude with a pudgy face and startling eyes. The orbs are a dead giveaway. The bartender was a werewolf.

"Vodka, neat," I reply.

I stare down at his hand as he pushes across the drink. My eyes zone in on his wrist, looking for the black crossbow that marked members of the Feral pack. His wrist was pale as a newborn. I sigh thankfully and grab my drink. I really hated to think of bashing in his baby face.

I sit on the stool and take sips of my drink. After I down the glass, I let my wolf take over. Our eyes access the entire bar for a Feral. All I saw were testosterone-fueled men looking for ways to get laid. When I begin to think my journey was a waste, I spy shadows moving at the far end of the bar, on a wide sofa.

My canine eyes light up the area and the first thing I spot is a woman's bare thigh. I look closer and figure it's wrapped around something strong. I looked closer still. It is then I spy it all.

They were having sex. A woman and a man, and she was riding him. When my eyes move up to his wrists and I see the black bow tattoo, a slow smile spreads my lips.

Target acquired.

I move across to the duo tangling on the couch. The corner is slightly dark but my eyes were far superior and acquainted to such darkness. God knows how many times I had run under the full moon. The man stills when he sees me and the woman silently lifts up his lap.

"Hi! I'm Tanya," I begin.

The first rule of the game I'm playing; Never use real names.

The man leans up a little on the couch as he arranges his zipper and I try not to look down at the erection he doesn't even try to hide. It must feel impressive to him but I'd seen bigger.

I watch his eyes go over my entire body like a serpent and he looks beside to the woman who'd now fully arranged herself. He smiles at her. She smiles too. They clearly love what they see. He turns back to me.

"Well, hello there, Tanya!"

His eyes move over me again and I almost slap his face but I withhold at the very last second. The time of his torture was coming. I just needed to endure a few more seconds of his lecherous gaze.

"...I'm Travis and this is Rain," he gestures at the girl beside him.

I give her a small smile and she pinkens under my stare. The girl had a nice name. She was pretty and young, not the kind of person I'd pictured would be fucking in an open bar. I figured I had to find a way to save her so I turn to her.

"Hello, Rain. Could you please get us some drinks?"

She looks to Travis.

"Sure," she replies.

The moment she rises from the sofa and moves close to me, I pull her close and place a few hundred dollar bills in her palm.

"This is not your life, Rain," I whisper in her ear. "Go as far away from this place as you can."

She meets my eyes, then looks down at the bills. I notice she turns a little misty-eyed when she peers back at my eyes.

A second later, she mouths a silent thank you. I nod to her and she disappears off into the crowd now filling the bar. I turn back to the man on the couch.

"So, Travis," I say, moving to straddle him.

The man sees this as a come-on sign and drags me by the ass to him. I almost loose it then but somehow manage to hold on. The fucker just left one woman, and here he was, diving straight into another. I let his hand wander even though they sicken me. It was part of my game.

"...what should we do while we wait for Rain to bring our drinks?"

He nuzzles like a bear on my neck as he replies.

"Feel this baby," he groans. "Yeah, feel my strong dick under you."

I almost laugh out at his words. His 'strong dick' didn't even make the least impression on me. He was so dumb. Rain was never coming back. For all I knew, she could be on her way to Texas by now. I wasn't his baby, and he was one horny pervert. But I choose to let him feel strong for a few more seconds.

"Yes, I feel it baby," I whisper, pretending a moan. "Yes, I do..."

I move close on him until my claws hang directly over his jugular. His hands are moving for my jeans fly when I sink the sharpness deep into his skin. Travis immediately stills under me, going rigid as stone.

I lean close to his ears and whisper.

"Now, listen to me, BOY! I am not your baby. Women are not objects, and my vibrator while flaccid is stronger than your dick. Rain is never coming back and you will not fuck another minor, ever. UNDERSTAND?"

He shivers under me and I sincerely pray he doesn't piss himself.

"We both know what'll happen if I pull out my claws from your throat. You'll bleed to death in seconds, faster than you can heal. I just punctured a very, VERY big hole your vein..."

I hear him swallow under my hold.

"...now start telling me all you know about the Ferals..."

Travis opens his mouth and his next words make my night.