💖💙💚💛💜💗💜💛💚💙💖
One Last Note:
Some of those on my list I have read, reread, & even listened/re-listened so I've included the review posted in my latest read/listen. Also, those that are read/re-read as a series the latest review may be an overall series review. If any of the purchase links included here don't work be sure and check the authors' websites/social media for the most recent links as they can change over time for a variety of reasons.
Pretty Poison by Kari Gregg
Summary:
Deadly poison…or exquisite cure?
Noah fell from an eighth story balcony as a toddler, cracking open his skull and shattering his body. The accident would’ve killed a human, but even shifter blood can’t heal some damage. After the pack recommended a mercy killing, Noah’s family ran. But there’s no outrunning the mating pact formed before Noah’s birth.
Wade, the new alpha, chooses an adult Noah to fulfill the pact. Wade believes the previous alpha was a fool to reject Noah as a weak and inferior wolf, but Noah’s family was wrong to hide him and starve his wolf, too. Human doctors with human medicines are poison to shifter physiology. Now that Noah is fully grown, halting his shift to retain the pins, plates, and bars holding him together hurts rather than helps him, and for Wade, more than Noah’s recovery is at stake.
Noah’s family sacrificed everything to keep him alive. Noah will do whatever it takes to save them—including mate with the alpha who is determined to correct past mistakes and defeat old prejudices contaminating the shifter community.
Too bad some still believe Noah is the true poison…and should be culled from the pack for good.
Content Warnings: Dubious consent, shifter knotting/tying, and Nerf gun assassination attempts. Ereaders (and you) may spontaneously combust–-Don’t say I didn’t warn you.
Original Review October 2016:
Shifter stories are not my usual norm but I do enjoy them and Pretty Poison goes right to the top. I loved the connection between Wade and Noah. Not sure which I loved more, Noah and his desire to save his family when Wade wants to take him as his mate or Wade and his desire to fix what his predecessor did to Noah and his family. I do know that what really spoke to and stayed with me was having a main character, a paranormal shifter character at that, with a disability even when Noah finally begins to embrace his shifter side and needs which make some of his disabilities lessen, they don't disappear. As for their connection, the spark may be instantaneous but that does not mean it's easy going. Pretty Poison is a great little addition to my paranormal shelf and I can already see a re-read in the future.
RATING:
Emperor of Dragons by Davidson KingSummary:
RATING:
Catch a Tiger by the Tail by Charlie Cochet
Original Review October 2017:
Once again we get to see inside the heart of a different couple of Destructive Delta, this time around we get to know Calvin Summers and Ethan Hobbs better. From the very beginning I loved the fact that Ethan was diagnosed with selective mutism and severe anxiety. Selective mutism is not something we often see in books, I won't lie I was a little afraid it would be difficult to get to know Hobbs as there isn't much dialogue from him because of his mutism but through Ethan, Charlie Cochet reminds us that we can learn more about people and their heart from their actions than the words they speak.
As with Against the Grain we get to learn more of Calvin and Hobbs' story with them being the focus but all the members of Delta and a few THIRDS agents are also here so it needs to be read in order as well. Catch gives us insight into Calvin and Ethan but it also furthers the journey of all involved. Sometimes when you think you are getting answers what you really are getting is more questions. So having said that, I am off to read #7.
RATING:
End Street Volume 3 by Amber Kell & RJ Scott
RATING:
Dinner at the Blue Moon Cafe by Rick R Reed
Re-Read Review October 2020:
Kari Gregg
Davidson King
Charlie Cochet
Charlie Cochet is the international bestselling author of the THIRDS series. Born in Cuba and raised in the US, Charlie enjoys the best of both worlds, from her daily Cuban latte to her passion for classic rock.
Currently residing in Central Florida, Charlie is at the beck and call of a rascally Doxiepoo bent on world domination. When she isn’t writing, she can usually be found devouring a book, releasing her creativity through art, or binge watching a new TV series. She runs on coffee, thrives on music, and loves to hear from readers.
Amber Kell
RJ Scott
Rick R Reed
End Street Volume 3 by Amber Kell & RJ Scott
Here at Padme's Library I feature all genres but followers have probably noticed that 95% of the posts and 99% of my reviews fall under the LGBT genres, so for this year's Pride Month I am showcasing 20 of my favorite M/M shifter reads in no particular order. All fall under paranormal but have a perfect blend of romance, drama, healing, and heart, creating unforgettable reads.
One Last Note:
Some of those on my list I have read, reread, & even listened/re-listened so I've included the review posted in my latest read/listen. Also, those that are read/re-read as a series the latest review may be an overall series review. If any of the purchase links included here don't work be sure and check the authors' websites/social media for the most recent links as they can change over time for a variety of reasons.
💖💙💚💛💜💗💜💛💚💙💖
Summary:
Deadly poison…or exquisite cure?
Noah fell from an eighth story balcony as a toddler, cracking open his skull and shattering his body. The accident would’ve killed a human, but even shifter blood can’t heal some damage. After the pack recommended a mercy killing, Noah’s family ran. But there’s no outrunning the mating pact formed before Noah’s birth.
Wade, the new alpha, chooses an adult Noah to fulfill the pact. Wade believes the previous alpha was a fool to reject Noah as a weak and inferior wolf, but Noah’s family was wrong to hide him and starve his wolf, too. Human doctors with human medicines are poison to shifter physiology. Now that Noah is fully grown, halting his shift to retain the pins, plates, and bars holding him together hurts rather than helps him, and for Wade, more than Noah’s recovery is at stake.
Noah’s family sacrificed everything to keep him alive. Noah will do whatever it takes to save them—including mate with the alpha who is determined to correct past mistakes and defeat old prejudices contaminating the shifter community.
Too bad some still believe Noah is the true poison…and should be culled from the pack for good.
Content Warnings: Dubious consent, shifter knotting/tying, and Nerf gun assassination attempts. Ereaders (and you) may spontaneously combust–-Don’t say I didn’t warn you.
Shifter stories are not my usual norm but I do enjoy them and Pretty Poison goes right to the top. I loved the connection between Wade and Noah. Not sure which I loved more, Noah and his desire to save his family when Wade wants to take him as his mate or Wade and his desire to fix what his predecessor did to Noah and his family. I do know that what really spoke to and stayed with me was having a main character, a paranormal shifter character at that, with a disability even when Noah finally begins to embrace his shifter side and needs which make some of his disabilities lessen, they don't disappear. As for their connection, the spark may be instantaneous but that does not mean it's easy going. Pretty Poison is a great little addition to my paranormal shelf and I can already see a re-read in the future.
RATING:
Black Veil #2
Peace has descended on Black Veil once more, and hope is on the horizon.
Until a new threat arises…
Emil is the head of security, first line of defense for Cain and Black Veil. He takes great pride in his job, is fully prepared to sacrifice everything in order to keep everyone he cares about safe and the world from crumbling. But the Tritons and Sirens have approved a treaty, and the dragons will most likely agree to allow vampires to use their blood for sustenance and protection once again, so all is as it should be. Then Emil meets the emperor of dragons, and his life goes from calm to chaotic in the blink of an eye—loyalty and love now battle for dominance in his head.
Aldrich is the emperor of dragons, and he cannot afford to make mistakes. He and his clans enter Black Veil in the hopes that The Blood Boss will join them in the fight to save his family. Aldrich is ready to lay down his life and for anything else thrown his way—except the crystal-eyed vampire who immediately captures his interest. Emil is everything he has always wanted and would never dare dream of, and when all he holds dear is threatened, it’s Emil who keeps his dragon grounded.
When unimaginable dangers swarm into Black Veil, the vampires and dragons join forces and call upon every living creature in Black Veil to defeat the enemy. While love blooms, lives perish, all to fight a war against the darkness threatening to consume the world. Will Emil and Aldrich claim victory and have their happily ever after, or are they doomed to an eternity apart?
Original Review May Book of the Month 2021:
She's done it again!
From the very first page, Davidson King pulls you in to this paranormal world she has created. You find yourself so hooked that if you looked up you expect to see vampires, dragons, witches, oh my! Each character has burrowed in and won't let go until they are done telling you their journey.
I don't want to spoil anything, even the minutest detail because experiencing this journey is pure magic and not just in a paranormal way but in a "Holy Crap! Where did that come from?" kind of way. So this review won't be touching on any specifics plot-wise but more on an overall emotion grabber. When reading paranormal/fantasy, there is obviously a level of reality that doesn't even begin to enter one's mind but at the same time, when that fantasy world does begin to spark a flash of realism into one's soul, you know that you have found a winning gem.
And simply put, that is exactly what Davidson King's Emperor of Dragons has done: feels real.
As for the characters? Once again we see Cain and Jayce navigate and rule over Black Veil(so Cain is the one in charge of the territory but come on! We all know Jayce has a level of control where Cain is involved). This time around, the threat at large is not openly directed at their vampires but at the dragons which is where Aldrich enters the picture. Emil, one of Cain's top security vamps finds himself drawn to Aldrich and Aldrich is vice versa. Will they get the opportunity to become what it meant for them? You know my answer to that one: read for yourself.
Oh but the fun you will have finding out. I just finished reading this minutes ago but I know I wish I could experience it for the first time again.
Back to characters. There are new ones, there are returning ones, there are ones you will love with every fiber of your being, there are ones you will absolutely hate with a passion, and then there are those that will probably be a blend of each. I already have a couple of them that I think will be front and center of future entries and even though I just finished Emperor of Dragons, I'm already on tender hooks waiting for the next Black Veil adventure.
I know that Davidson King is all about the HEAs, the romance, and the heart but she is Queen of mayhem and danger too. I've read and watched plenty of fiction that involve world building universes, character driven drama, emotional battered heart and some are poorly done, some are well written, and then there are those that are exceptionally crafted. It is the exceptionally crafted ones that are storytelling at it's finest and Davidson King's Black Veil universe belongs in that category. To create something that can't possibly be real, that not only entertains but leaves the reader feeling lost when the final page is closed because they are no longer living in that world, well that's a whole other level of talent very few reach.
A final note: Some might say The Blood Boss and Emperor of Dragons can be read as standalones because they feature different couples, tackle different dangers, I honestly can't say that. For me, they have to be read in order. Not only are there characters from Blood that play a huge part in Emperor but I can't help but feel there is a larger picture at play here and each entry has a part in the complete adventure(hopefully there will be many layers to the complete picture because I am in no way ready to say goodbye to Black Veil). The author lets you in on things from book 1 so you wouldn't exactly be lost but I truly believe you'd be saying "huh, I wonder what happened there?" more than once. Not too mention, The Blood Boss is brilliant and was my personal choice for Best Paranormal Read of 2021.
Original Audiobook Review October 2024:
How can it possibly be 2+ years since I read Emperor of Dragons and an even bigger HOW has it been over a year and a half since the audio originally released and I didn't listen? Well, I remedied that!
I can't really think of anything new to add to my original review to express my love for Emperor and the whole intriguing paranormal world that Davidson King has created in Black Veil so I'll let my original words below speak for the story. As for the narrators, Tim Paige & Declan Winters, they sure nail Emil and Aldrich spot on. I can't say who narrates who but whichever way it is, balanced with King's words, they bring to life every minute detail. I've often said in my audio reviews that my love of the old radio shows of the 30s, 40s, and 50s is a bench mark I factor into my expectation and there's something extra about dual narration that brings OTR even more into a checkpoint. Paige & Winters leaves me not only expecting to hear the sponsor's message but I swear I can hear the sound effects man creating the creaking doors, howling winds, and flapping wings painting the whole picture of the magic and mayhem fueling King's storytelling.
Yep, Davidson King, Tim Paige, & Declan Winters are a triad of story presentation . . . well I'd say "made in Heaven" but considering the genre and world being explored I'll just say "not to be missed".😉😉
Summary:
THIRDS #6
Calvin Summers and Ethan Hobbs have been best friends since childhood, but somewhere along the line, their friendship evolved into something more. With the Therian Youth Center bombing, Calvin realizes just how short life can be and no longer keeps his feelings for his best friend a secret. Unfortunately, change is difficult for Ethan; most days he does well to deal with his selective mutism and social anxiety. Calvin’s confession adds a new struggle for Ethan, one he fears might cost him the friendship that’s been his whole world for as long as he can remember.
As partners and Defense Agents at the THIRDS, being on Destructive Delta is tough at the best of times, but between call-outs and life-threatening situations, Calvin and Ethan not only face traversing the challenges of their job, but also working toward a future as more than friends.
Once again we get to see inside the heart of a different couple of Destructive Delta, this time around we get to know Calvin Summers and Ethan Hobbs better. From the very beginning I loved the fact that Ethan was diagnosed with selective mutism and severe anxiety. Selective mutism is not something we often see in books, I won't lie I was a little afraid it would be difficult to get to know Hobbs as there isn't much dialogue from him because of his mutism but through Ethan, Charlie Cochet reminds us that we can learn more about people and their heart from their actions than the words they speak.
As with Against the Grain we get to learn more of Calvin and Hobbs' story with them being the focus but all the members of Delta and a few THIRDS agents are also here so it needs to be read in order as well. Catch gives us insight into Calvin and Ethan but it also furthers the journey of all involved. Sometimes when you think you are getting answers what you really are getting is more questions. So having said that, I am off to read #7.
Audiobook Review October 2021:
I won't say I forgot how much I loved Calvin and Ethan's story but I admit it was a delight to relive their journey, a reminder of what they faced. As I mentioned in my original review being concerned how the author would pull off the realities of Ethan's selective mutism with so little dialogue, I must be honest and was wondering just how well it would transfer into narration. I needn't have had any concerns because Mark Westfield gives Ethan a voice, both internal and external, that makes the reader fall even harder for the shifter. Reliving the mens' journey in Catch a Tiger by the Tail shows us that Destructive Delta, THIRDS, and the close knit family they've become wouldn't be complete without Calvin and Ethan.
RATING:
Summary:
The Case of the Purple Pearl #5
After failing in a quest to win the Fae Queen’s approval, Halstein is locked in a world of stone. Forced to remain a gargoyle he spends his days on Sam’s desk pining for his lost love.
Prince Idris’s lover went missing and was presumed dead. Alone, Idris lives a life away from court, starved of energy but unwilling to sleep in the room he once shared with his beloved.
Can Sam and Bob save these fated lovers before it's too late? And will Bob’s ultimate sacrifice be enough to free Hal from his prison?
The Case of the Guilty Ghost #6
Bob is lost in grief, Sam is fighting for his life, and there is no middle ground. Can their love survive?
Bob is grieving over his brother’s sacrifice. Guilt-ridden and devastated, he buries himself in vampire mourning and pulls away from Sam.
Magic tears Sam from the vampire castle and he has to face new adversaries alone, when all he wants is Bob at his side.
Ettore is in the Aset Ka waiting room, next in line for the ceremony for his soul to be torn from his body. Aset Ka has other plans, and Ettore finds himself reunited with a lost love and fighting alongside his brother.
A forgotten past binds Theodore ‘Teddy’ McCurray Constantine III to Ettore, and with the curse tied to Ettore broken by his death, Teddy’s past returns to him with a vengeance.
A royal family in denial, a battle between gods, and long forgotten love leaves no time for Sam and Bob to take a breath. Is it too late to save the supernatural world?
The Case of the Purple Pearl#5
Original Read October 2016:
With number 5 we learn how the stone gargoyle came to be stone, but is he a real gargoyle? I think you all know what my next statement will be: you'll have to read that for yourself. As it is with everything in Sam's world, there's often more questions than answers and this time Purple Pearl ends in a bit of a cliffhanger, luckily for me I only have to wait a few weeks for number 6. Sam and Bob may not always seem to be the main characters in the plot but they are at the heart of it, this time it seems more dangerous but as always, Sam the human-non human and Bob the vampire's love is true and bright but can it survive their newest case?
Re-Read March 2017:
Better than ever. Sam and Bob's chemistry just jumps off the page and knowing the end didn't take away an ounce of enjoyment the second time around.
The Case of the Guilty Ghost #6
Original Review April 2017:
I had bittersweet feels about this one when the release day came around. On the plus side, End Street Detective Agency Series is amazing, stupendous, fabulous, well frankly it's just plain great all around. On the minus side, it's the conclusion, the end, finale, final, finis, no more, well frankly that leaves me with just all kinds of boo-hooing. So as you can imagine, I hated to begin because then it would be it when I hit the last page but I couldn't not read The Case of the Guilty Ghost, the gang cried out to be read.
What can I say about Guilty Ghost without giving anything away? Not too much really but I can't stress enough that this is NOT a standalone, you have to start at the beginning with The Case of the Cupid Curse. I will say that Sam has finally accepted that he's not entirely human, although I don't think he likes it being pointed out. His magic, or paranormality if you will, continues to grow and we finally learn why he is what he is as so many factors fall into place.
We have vampires, dragons, and ghosts, oh my! Bob's brother returns, Teddy the ghost's history is revealed, the evil is uncovered, and the future is shaky but it's all yummy. RJ Scott and Amber Kell have created a world that one can get lost in and who knew it would go where it did when Bob the Vampire rented a room from Sam the human(he thinks). I have already re-read the first five stories even though it hasn't even been 6 months since my original read and I'm already looking forward to my next re-read, which probably says more about how much I love this universe than all the words I've already written. End Street has definitely earned it's prime position on my paranormal shelf.
Summary:
A monster moves through the darkest night, lit only by the full moon, taking them, one by one, from Seattle’s gay gathering areas.
In an atmosphere of spine-tingling fear, Thad Matthews finds his first true love cooking in an Italian restaurant called The Blue Moon Cafe. Sam Lupino is everything Thad has ever hoped for in a man: virile, sexy as hell, kind, and…he can cook!
As the pair’s love heats up, so do the questions. Who is the killer preying on Seattle’s gay men? What secrets is Sam’s Sicilian family hiding? And, more important, why do Sam’s unexplained disappearances always coincide with the full moon?
When the secrets are finally revealed, is Thad and Sam’s love for one another strong enough to weather the horrific revelations revealed by the light of the full moon?
I can't believe it's been three years since I first read Dinner at the Blue Moon Cafe. I loved it then and I loved it even more now. Even though this is an older book, I won't give any spoilers because I'm sure there are those out there who are yet to experience it. I'll just say that the brilliance of Rick R Reed is abundantly clear in the pages of Blue Moon. Blending mystery, paranormal, AND romance is not always easy to do. Yes, they are genres that are often together but to make them believable, creepy, full of heart(and heat), and still be edge-of-your-seat entertaining(especially as a re-read) I find not an easy task, something ends up lacking but not in Dinner at the Blue Moon Cafe. Rick R Reed definitely has a winner here and now that it's been re-released, maybe if we are super duper uber nice we might get more from Thad and Sam?😉🤞🤞😉 But seriously, whether there is more in the future or not, Blue Moon will be on my Halloween re-read list for years to come.
Original Review October 2017:
I'm going to start by saying that immediate attraction bordering on insta-love is not for everyone and I understand that but when its done right than its amazing. Well, for me Dinner at the Blue Moon Cafe is done right. I say "immediate attraction bordering on insta-love" because I think it's pretty instant on Sam's part and for Thad its nearly there but he's afraid to completely embrace it.
I loved seeing inside the mind of the killer in this story, its not something that always works, it can distract from the couple at the heart of the story, but Rick R Reed makes it work here. I get why Sam is leary to reveal everything to Thad and I equally get why this makes Thad hesitant to completely open his heart to Sam but more than once I just wanted to bang their heads together and scream "Communicate!". Throw in Thad's new friend Jared, which some might call an obstacle to the couple being happy but I call just plain awesome. Jared is a fun character that gives Thad some much needed companionship but it also gives him reasons to guard his heart, to grow, and gives his protective side reason to show.
All in all, Dinner at the Blue Moon Cafe is a brilliant read that ticked my paranormal, romance, mystery boxes and it also touched on my love of horror as well making this a perfect read for October.
RATING:
I'm going to start by saying that immediate attraction bordering on insta-love is not for everyone and I understand that but when its done right than its amazing. Well, for me Dinner at the Blue Moon Cafe is done right. I say "immediate attraction bordering on insta-love" because I think it's pretty instant on Sam's part and for Thad its nearly there but he's afraid to completely embrace it.
I loved seeing inside the mind of the killer in this story, its not something that always works, it can distract from the couple at the heart of the story, but Rick R Reed makes it work here. I get why Sam is leary to reveal everything to Thad and I equally get why this makes Thad hesitant to completely open his heart to Sam but more than once I just wanted to bang their heads together and scream "Communicate!". Throw in Thad's new friend Jared, which some might call an obstacle to the couple being happy but I call just plain awesome. Jared is a fun character that gives Thad some much needed companionship but it also gives him reasons to guard his heart, to grow, and gives his protective side reason to show.
All in all, Dinner at the Blue Moon Cafe is a brilliant read that ticked my paranormal, romance, mystery boxes and it also touched on my love of horror as well making this a perfect read for October.
RATING:
Pretty Poison by Kari Gregg
Noah heard the crunch of tires on gravel outside only because that morning’s migraine had silenced his mp3 player, which he’d shoved into a dresser drawer. He’d maxed out his meds for the day. The worst of his blinding headache was gone so music wouldn’t have been painful, but after his sick agony earlier, the quiet soothed him. Hunched over his laptop, he usually hummed along while he updated websites for his clients, the beat of arena rock coaxing his fingers to fly over the keyboard. Even softer melodies would’ve been uncomfortable with his stomach still tender from vomiting and his sore muscles tight from clenching, though. Silence was better.
He frowned at the muffled thump of car doors closing in the driveway.
Weird. The farm entertained few visitors.
Ignoring the distant rumble of voices and the screech of the opening front porch door, Noah focused on his computer screen. He knew the drill. His dad met distributors at a diner a few miles away to sell their crops, but inspectors sometimes assessed their operation to ensure they fulfilled organic farming requirements. Sunset was late for an inspection. Maybe neighbors needed a favor or help? The reasons didn’t really matter to Noah. When outsiders came, he stayed hidden. Humans weren’t as eager to hurt him after Dr. Phares accepted him as a patient, but he’d learned not to take chances.
He tuned out the noises and worked.
The tap on his bedroom door didn’t alarm him, either. When he hobbled to the door, his eldest brother stood in the hallway. Tall, beefy with muscle, and dark like most shifters, Mikael often let Noah know when humans arrived at the farm as well as when it was safe for Noah to leave his room.
“Come with me,” his brother said, face ashen.
That pricked Noah’s unease. He trusted his family. His dad and his brothers had proven a million times they could be relied upon to protect him. Noah was alive because of his family’s diligence and sacrifice. If Mikael said he had to go, then he would go.
Noah shut down his laptop. After the screen went black, he fetched his forearm crutches. Dread stirring, Noah pushed his glasses up his nose with a bunched shoulder and followed his brother’s silent hulking back.
He stumbled when they reached the living room. Noah’s mother had died shortly after Noah’s first shift at puberty, but the house was the same as she’d left it: full of overstuffed furniture, draping afghans, family pictures, and vases that Noah’s father still supplied with wildflowers. The cluttered living room wasn’t big. And Noah had never seen so many shifters inside it.
He’d never seen so many shifters. Ever. Not this close.
Terror sprinted through him, fiery hot, because he recognized some of these men. City shifters. The pack from town. The same shifters who had wanted to kill him when he was a toddler. A mercy killing, they’d called it. After he’d fallen eight stories from a high-rise balcony, when he’d awakened from weeks in a coma to paralyzed legs and excruciating migraines, these shifters would’ve ended him. His parents had fled to the country instead and made enemies of their former pack by seeking human medical treatments to help Noah.
Was this it then? Had the city shifters finally decided to exact judgment?
Trembling more than a little, Noah clamped his mouth shut while Mikael guided him to join his father and his other brothers who perched stiff and pale on the couch on one side of the cramped room. They faced a small army of betas from the town pack, who stood behind an easy chair occupied by a sprawling man who must be their new alpha. Dressed in casual khakis and a form-fitting black T-shirt, he blended in with the other shifters, but no one would mistake the intense energy that vibrated the air around him. Nor his eyes. Dark as midnight. They glittered with command. And fury.
Noah shuddered.
Rather than dropping to the couch with his family, he stood beside them, leaning against his crutches as his wrecked knees jellied. He wouldn’t risk the censure of the shifter horde by drawing attention to his brace and crutches by sitting. His father, alarmingly, hung his head low and focused his stare on the living room carpet. Wouldn’t look at Noah, whose fear rocketed when his brothers wouldn’t meet his gaze, either.
Although he must certainly smell the stench of Noah’s mounting terror, the alpha smiled. Wade. Wasn’t that the new alpha’s name? He studied Noah for moments that felt like lifetimes, his stare lingering on Noah’s forearm crutches. Noah slumped his shoulders, trying to look as insignificant as possible. The accident had stunted his growth, and he’d topped out at five foot six inches. He couldn’t pull off invisibility, but at least being small wasn’t difficult, even if being shorter than everyone else in the room was another strike against him.
“This is the boy?”
Noah shivered at the alpha’s voice.
Stress lines bracketing his mouth, Noah’s father confirmed that Noah was indeed the boy with a murmured, “Yes.”
“The pact you formed with the old alpha demands the selection of this generation’s alpha mate among your children. Since the child specified, your eldest, married a human,” Wade said, mouth twisting to a terse grin, “I can now pick from your sons, and your family is required to give him up.” When Noah peered through a layer of lashes, the alpha nodded. “You may consider the pact satisfied.” He angled his head at Noah. “Him.”
Noah’s stomach plummeted to the floor. His jaw dropped.
He blinked at the dark-haired alpha.
What had just happened?
“No!” Dad’s stare snapped up. “Take one of my other sons if you insist on fulfilling the pact. Each of them is ready and willing to go with you.” Flanking his father on the couch, Noah’s three brothers bobbed their heads in uniform agreement. “But not Noah.”
“You’ve broken our laws and defied this pack long enough. You can pay for those crimes. Or you can honor the mating pact.” The alpha’s lips thinned to a grim line. “I choose the boy.”
A pair of betas strode across the short width of the room. They grabbed Noah by his biceps. “Dad,” Noah said while he ineffectively jerked his elbows and forearm crutches to try to break free. “You said leaving the pack negated the old mating pact,” Noah pleaded with his father. With the city shifters. With anyone who would listen. “You said they didn’t care about us anymore.”
The alpha shifted his frown to Noah. “Your father was wrong.”
Mikael bolted to his feet, a snarl on his lips, but Dad halted the rebellion with his white-knuckled grip on Mikael’s arm. “Stop, you fool. Or they’ll kill us all.”
Eyes wide, grief-stricken torment writ across his face, Mikael sank to the couch.
Noah’s last hopes died.
The taut, avid attention of the gathered betas and the angry glitter in their alpha’s glare proved they hadn’t driven to the farm to enforce an obsolete mating pact. Arranged matings were barbaric. Though shifters drafted the agreements to convey special honor and status, few were executed. No one pushed to fulfill a mating pact unless both parties were willing, even at the top of the shifter hierarchy where the practice most often continued to foster alliances between packs. But as much as Noah loved his family, they weren’t another pack. No political benefit would be fostered or gained here. His dad had been important among the city shifters once, the most trusted of the old alpha’s betas, but after the accident, his family became rogue wolves, outsiders. And criminals. They hardly merited the high regard and attention of the new alpha.
Wade wanted revenge. That was the only explanation.
City shifters had left his family alone as long as they’d stayed out of sight, but the new alpha’s largess had made them sloppy. Stupid. Lydia marrying Noah’s physical therapist had crossed a line, no matter how they’d convinced themselves the pack wouldn’t notice or care. Noah would now pay the price. With the eldest child mated, Wade could choose among the remaining siblings according to the letter of the law regardless of how little mating pacts were enforced, even in the city. Wade was right about that. Dragging Noah away was a vicious taunt, the alpha daring his family to object, and perhaps provoking his father and brothers into a fight they couldn’t win. Not against this many betas.
Noah was doomed.
Maybe his family, who had sacrificed so much for him, didn’t need to be.
“I’ll go.” Sandwiched between the two betas, Noah let his body go slack. His fear coiled like vipers in his belly, but he stopped struggling. The shifters lifted him until his feet dangled uselessly above the floor. “I’ll do whatever you want, if you grant my family amnesty. If you don’t hurt them.”
The alpha beamed in predatory triumph. “Agreed.”
Noah hung limply between the pair of betas as they dragged him toward Wade, whose smile roiled Noah’s stomach.
“In the car,” Wade ordered the betas.
While the collected shifters parted to create a path for the two manhandling Noah to the door, Noah’s father at last made a shaky attempt to help him. “He needs his medicines, his extra brace and forearm crutches, his computers—“
When Noah looked over his shoulder, the alpha cut Noah’s father off with a sharp wave. “You’ve done enough harm to him. The boy is no longer your concern.”
Oh God.
They muscled Noah, heart thundering, to the nearest of a fleet of black Chevy Tahoe’s. He swore he wouldn’t gamble his family’s safety, but he flinched then. He stiffened in the beta’s grasp when they opened the SUV door. He couldn’t go into that vehicle. He’d be helpless. Captured. They could hurt him. Maybe kill him.
He jerked away—and earned a light cuff to his temple in rebuke.
His brothers wrestled. Often. All shifters did. The mock battles that frequently resulted in bloodied noses and bruises were their way of jockeying for position even in a group as small as their family or that’s what his mother had said when Noah was younger. His brothers had never touched him, though. Shifters could take the rough and tumble, but not Noah. He’d been physically vulnerable, easily injured.
The blow, however gentle, rocked him to the core.
He’d known pain—endless surgeries, torturous physical therapy, and a shattered body that refused to function properly. But he’d never suffered as much as a casual swat on his butt when he’d misbehaved as a child and none of the typical punishments meted out by his father to maintain discipline among the adult wolves since.
“Don’t look at me like that. And stop cringing. We won’t abuse you.” The beta frowned. “You’re a shifter. He’s ordered you to be treated as one. That’s all.”
That didn’t reassure him considering bitter experience had taught him shifters were the most brutal of nature’s creatures. More scared than he’d ever been in his life, Noah stopped resisting, though, and they shoved him into the back seat of the Tahoe. They took away his forearm crutches, cramming the lightweight supports at their feet on the floor. When Noah instinctively reached for them, the shifters tied his hands with rope. The engine roared to life, and the Tahoe shot forward, zooming from the farm while the betas bound his feet, too. Once he was restrained, they ignored him. Terror balled inside Noah as he waited for what would happen next.
After they reached the blacktop of the main road, the Tahoe turned right, toward town. When one of the betas caught him spying out the window and watching the long tail of headlights leaving the farm, Noah yanked his gaze down. He hunched over to protect his stomach, but the anticipated blows never landed.
One of the betas snorted scathing disapproval. “They should be punished.”
“Wade granted amnesty. You heard him.”
“Still.”
“When we slow on the next straight stretch, the lead cars can overtake us,” the driver said into the head set of a cell phone and then glanced in the rearview mirror. “Alpha Wade wants to know if the boy is all right.”
“He’s fine.” The beta smiled. “As docile as a lamb.”
Noah squeezed his eyes shut. Please let that be enough. See? I’m cooperating. No reason to go back to the farm to murder my family. No reason to hurt them—or me.
The vehicles streamed into the city. The fleet of cars blended into traffic headed to the far side of town, where Noah and his brothers had been forbidden. Noah had only ever left the farm to sneak to doctor’s appointments. They hadn’t dared anything else. His father had even installed an indoor pool so he could do his physical therapy at home rather than chance facilities in the pack’s territory. He’d rarely been in town, never this part of the city, and certainly not at night. The lights overwhelmed him, a headache quickly building at the sensory overload of flashing neon, blaring car horns, and the assault of foreign smells, mostly fried food and car exhaust. He glued his gaze on his hands, but that morning’s migraine flared back to life. Agony pounded his skull, behind his eyes, at the base of his neck. His tender stomach couldn’t take a second assault that day, and despite the breathing techniques he’d learned from Dr. Phares, Noah moaned in warning. “I’m going to throw up.”
One of the men cursed, a heavy hand landing on Noah’s nape to push his head between his knees. “Keep driving. We’re too close to stop now.”
Noah vomited water and bile to the floor while the other beta grabbed a phone. Noah hurt too bad to make out the words.
The Tahoe screeched to a halt moments later. They opened the door on Noah’s right. They pushed him from the car. He tried to force his legs under him to walk, or at least stand, but with his crutches inside the vehicle, his feet bound, and his head aching, he dangled between the two goons. A gentle but firm fist in his hair eased his gaze up. He groaned, squinting at bright spotlights in front of the pack house.
“His senses are over-stimulated.” When the alpha’s stare dropped to the rope binding Noah’s wrists and ankles, he scowled. “I thought you said he wasn’t fighting this, that he was okay. Why is he restrained?”
“He balked at climbing into the rig. You said you didn’t want him hurt. When he panicked, we tied him to ensure he didn’t injure himself,” one of the betas answered. “He settled down then.”
“Because he’s petrified.” The alpha grimaced. “He’ll be calmer once he’s inside and cleaned up. Take him upstairs, but keep the rooms quiet. Dark. Untie him. I’ll decide if he’s a danger to himself.”
They carried him away again, through the double front doors of the pack house. They strode into a gauntlet of gawking shifters inside. The two betas hauled him up a wide staircase. The foreign scents in the house—of other shifters, of lemon-scented cleaners and even here, the city smells—overpowered him. He concentrated just to avoid vomiting again. They guided him into a bathroom three flights up. He screamed, the blinding glare of overhead lights too much for him. Thankfully, one of the betas doused the light and flicked another switch for dimmer sconces topping a mirror above the sink. When the betas stripped him, he was too sick to fight them. Even when they removed the rope cuffing his wrists and ankles, he couldn’t manage more than clumsy twitches. They unbuckled his leg brace and discarded it with a negligent toss. His glasses were set aside on the vanity with more care. Blurrier now, the two strangers pushed him to sit on the lid of the toilet. Noah had never felt this naked, not only of his clothes, but stripped of the supports that helped him walk, of even his sight with his glasses tucked away. Shaking, he rubbed angry red marks the rope had left on his wrists, but knew the shifters didn’t need restraints anymore. Without his brace, crutches, and glasses, he was helpless.
Startled, he jumped nervously when the alpha strode through the bathroom door. “Reminders of other scents will confuse him. Destroy his clothes,” Wade told one of the betas, who snatched up the piles of fabric and scrambled to leave. “Help me with him,” he ordered the remaining shifter. They lifted Noah by his biceps and pushed him into the shower. Hot water soon relaxed his cramping muscles. Fully clothed, Wade joined him under the shower and scrubbed him with a scratchy sponge while the other shifter held him upright. Wade washed Noah’s hair twice and then traded shampoo for a softer sponge to thoroughly clean Noah again.
By the time Wade hauled him from the shower to towel him dry, the smells of his father, brothers, and home had washed away.
Noah’s mind shut down.
They walked him through another door to a utilitarian bedroom and dumped him on a narrow bed, where he lay in a boneless heap. The beta placed a basin next to him. “In case you throw up again.”
“His body temperature is lower than ours, more human than shifter. Turn the thermostat up. I don’t want him uncomfortable.” The alpha leaned over him, palm cupping Noah’s cheek. “You’re going to be all right. I promise.”
Noah shut his eyes, and after they’d gone, when the room was dark and the ticking of the baseboard heater proved the alpha’s command had been obeyed, Noah finally realized he wouldn’t be raped. He wasn’t safe, but they were leaving him alone. For now. He surrendered to exhausted sleep.
When he awoke, the basin was gone. Someone had moved him under the sheets and a green cotton blanket. He smelled a stranger in the room, but numb by his terror, Noah didn’t cringe. He turned inside the snug cocoon of covers to find the indistinct blur of a new shifter standing guard at the door a few feet away. Miraculously, his wire-rim glasses rested on an otherwise bare night table. He groped and awkwardly shoved his glasses onto his nose. Able to see now, Noah lowered his gaze in the submissive pose he was positive would be expected of a prisoner and used the opportunity to surreptitiously study his guard. He was tall like most shifters and dark, with a long tail of black hair streaming down his back from an elastic band at his nape. He was dressed like city shifters—jeans, a simple blue work shirt, and scuffed boots. Noah couldn’t be sure. Last night was a blur and all shifters looked the same to him, big and bulky with muscle. As blunted as his sense of smell tended to be, though, he didn’t recognize this shifter’s scent. This one was new.
The stranger frowned, but didn’t speak to him. Instead, the guard reached for a cell phone strapped to his waist. “He’s awake.”
Without his leg brace or forearm crutches, Noah sat up in the bed and scooted to lean against the plain oak headboard. He tugged the blanket up to his chin, only his head remaining uncovered. He had to pee and his bad leg hurt like fire, but until he knew how much trouble he’d landed in, he wouldn’t move again.
One of the betas from last night walked into the sparse room moments later, and Noah sighed in relief that it wasn’t the shifter who’d slapped him. “He hasn’t been up?”
“Too scared.” The guard studied Noah through narrowed eyes. “He’s pretty scrawny. I’m not sure he can.”
The newcomer grunted. “Wade won’t like that. C’mon.” He and the guard tore Noah’s blanket away. They helped him to the bathroom, and when Noah couldn’t stand upright, the beta from last night supported him while Noah urinated into the toilet. And Noah thought his hospital stays were embarrassing? The pokes and prods from dozens of human nurses hadn’t compared to this. The shifters steadied him while he washed his hands and brushed his teeth. They handed him a comb for his hair, then a washcloth to wipe his face.
When they returned him to the bedroom, they plunked him in a tangled clump on the mattress, but his bladder wasn’t ready to burst. They’d permitted basic grooming. A tray of food now rested on the night table where his glasses had been. Noah’s mouth watered at mountains of scrambled eggs, toast, and bacon.
His morning could have been a lot worse.
The guard exited the bedroom, but the beta from last night stayed. He nodded to the food. “Eat.”
Noah stared at the steaming platter. His empty stomach yowled. He guessed the meal could have been drugged, but they didn’t need to sedate him to make him do what they wanted. They must not have settled on killing him. Not yet at least, not if they were feeding him. He didn’t see any purpose in starving, especially since refusing food would be considered a challenge. That, Noah knew, would be met with merciless efficiency.
Wrapping a corner of the blanket around him to cover his nudity, he reached for the tray. It was heavier than it looked, weighed down with more food than Noah was accustomed to, and he snorted when he noticed the cutlery was plastic. Like he was dangerous?
“You’re on suicide watch.”
Noah’s jaw dropped. “I don’t want to die,” he protested.
The beta shrugged. “Sick and injured wolves do desperate things.”
Sure, they did. Like submit to antiquated mating pacts to spare the lives of their kin. But a deal was a deal. City shifters might deem Noah damaged beyond repair, but that didn’t mean he couldn’t hold up his end of that bargain. “I said I’d cooperate.”
The shifter rolled his eyes. “Then, eat.”
Noah glared at the beta before grudgingly returning his attention to his food. The massive portions were more in line with the quantities his brothers and his dad regularly consumed. Shifting burned lots of energy. They needed the extra calories. Noah didn’t. Dr. Phares had him on a strict diet, carefully balancing nutrition and caloric intake so he wouldn’t gain weight that could throw off his precarious balance or hinder his physical therapy. He never went hungry, but he never enjoyed this kind of excess, either. Though his family mixed with humans often, most shifters didn’t. The city pack was no judge of proper portions for damaged wolves like him.
Still, he couldn’t refuse.
Picking at the scrambled eggs, he lifted a bite on the ridiculous plastic fork to sniff it. According to Dr. Phares, his sense of smell was almost as muted as a human’s, but blunted senses were better than none at all. His nose scented nothing amiss. Just eggs. He poked out his tongue to test the taste and groaned at the explosion of cheese mingling with the eggs. He shut his eyes, a shiver of delight working up his spine. When had he last been allowed cheese? Probably not since his mother’s heart attack, shortly after his recovery plateaued following his first shifts.
If cheese masked the taste of drugs, Noah didn’t care.
He shoveled the bite into his mouth. Then another. And another. Ducking his gaze to avoid the tiny curl at one corner of the beta’s lips, which Noah supposed passed for a smile, he ate scrambled eggs—only the eggs—until his cavernous stomach filled. Before last night, he might’ve been embarrassed at his haste, but the food tasted wonderful. Besides, with his modesty preserved by only the stingy corner of a blanket, pride numbered among the many items he couldn’t afford anymore. He ate rapidly and gluttonously, reasoning that increasing his food intake must have balanced out the calories he’d burned while he’d struggled with his terror last night. Even then, when his fork slowed, mounds of food remained on the platter.
“More,” the beta commanded.
Too bad Noah couldn’t justify consuming the rest. Piles of crispy bacon taunted him especially, but he didn’t know when or if he’d see a pool for exercise again. He didn’t want to risk force-feeding, though. He nudged the eggs with his fork. Squaring his shoulders, he screwed up his nerve to ask for his leg brace. “I can’t walk without it,” he said, pausing to consider how to condense the dry terms in a way someone unfamiliar with his medical history would understand. “My knees hyper-extend. Mostly the right leg, but also the left. I wish I could control that, but I can’t. I could dislocate the joints, tear muscles and tendons. Unless you want to carry me to the bathroom every time I have to pee or watch me crawl—“
“Eat.” The beta crossed his arms over his chest.
That wasn’t a “no” exactly. To show his good will, Noah forked more fluffy eggs into his mouth. “I need my medicines, too,” he said after he’d consumed the bite. “Pins stabilize my hips. The white lines running down my legs? Those are scars from my surgeries. Dr. Phares said I might be able to walk without pins, plates, and bars strengthening my bones once I’m fully grown, but not yet.”
“You’re twenty years old.”
“Exactly.” Noah nodded. “I’m small, even by human standards. Dr. Phares wants to give me another year to see if I hit a growth spurt delayed by the accident.”
“Shifters mature by sixteen.” The beta scowled at him. “You’re short and too skinny, but you’re an adult.”
Frowning, Noah shoveled another heaping mound of scrambled eggs he didn’t want into his mouth. He chewed and swallowed. “Listen, I’m not like you. Not like other shifters.”
“But you are a shifter.” The beta glowered. “A stubborn one who needs to shift.”
That was what he was afraid of and the last thing he should do. “My doctors adapted to my physiology. After I stopped therapeutic shifting to try to heal the damage, we worked around using bars and plates as much as we could, but I have a few left in me. Anything foreign to our bodies disappears during a shift, though. So I can’t shift, okay?”
Eventually, Noah stopped trying. He dutifully ate as much of his breakfast as he could stand. Only then did the beta move, walking to the bed to collect the still half-filled plate. “I won’t make trouble. I’ll do whatever he wants, I swear. Just please…tell me what’s happening? Why is he holding me prisoner?”
“You aren’t a prisoner. You were rescued,” the beta said, but when he left with the dirty dishes, Noah heard the lock click.
He frowned at the muffled thump of car doors closing in the driveway.
Weird. The farm entertained few visitors.
Ignoring the distant rumble of voices and the screech of the opening front porch door, Noah focused on his computer screen. He knew the drill. His dad met distributors at a diner a few miles away to sell their crops, but inspectors sometimes assessed their operation to ensure they fulfilled organic farming requirements. Sunset was late for an inspection. Maybe neighbors needed a favor or help? The reasons didn’t really matter to Noah. When outsiders came, he stayed hidden. Humans weren’t as eager to hurt him after Dr. Phares accepted him as a patient, but he’d learned not to take chances.
He tuned out the noises and worked.
The tap on his bedroom door didn’t alarm him, either. When he hobbled to the door, his eldest brother stood in the hallway. Tall, beefy with muscle, and dark like most shifters, Mikael often let Noah know when humans arrived at the farm as well as when it was safe for Noah to leave his room.
“Come with me,” his brother said, face ashen.
That pricked Noah’s unease. He trusted his family. His dad and his brothers had proven a million times they could be relied upon to protect him. Noah was alive because of his family’s diligence and sacrifice. If Mikael said he had to go, then he would go.
Noah shut down his laptop. After the screen went black, he fetched his forearm crutches. Dread stirring, Noah pushed his glasses up his nose with a bunched shoulder and followed his brother’s silent hulking back.
He stumbled when they reached the living room. Noah’s mother had died shortly after Noah’s first shift at puberty, but the house was the same as she’d left it: full of overstuffed furniture, draping afghans, family pictures, and vases that Noah’s father still supplied with wildflowers. The cluttered living room wasn’t big. And Noah had never seen so many shifters inside it.
He’d never seen so many shifters. Ever. Not this close.
Terror sprinted through him, fiery hot, because he recognized some of these men. City shifters. The pack from town. The same shifters who had wanted to kill him when he was a toddler. A mercy killing, they’d called it. After he’d fallen eight stories from a high-rise balcony, when he’d awakened from weeks in a coma to paralyzed legs and excruciating migraines, these shifters would’ve ended him. His parents had fled to the country instead and made enemies of their former pack by seeking human medical treatments to help Noah.
Was this it then? Had the city shifters finally decided to exact judgment?
Trembling more than a little, Noah clamped his mouth shut while Mikael guided him to join his father and his other brothers who perched stiff and pale on the couch on one side of the cramped room. They faced a small army of betas from the town pack, who stood behind an easy chair occupied by a sprawling man who must be their new alpha. Dressed in casual khakis and a form-fitting black T-shirt, he blended in with the other shifters, but no one would mistake the intense energy that vibrated the air around him. Nor his eyes. Dark as midnight. They glittered with command. And fury.
Noah shuddered.
Rather than dropping to the couch with his family, he stood beside them, leaning against his crutches as his wrecked knees jellied. He wouldn’t risk the censure of the shifter horde by drawing attention to his brace and crutches by sitting. His father, alarmingly, hung his head low and focused his stare on the living room carpet. Wouldn’t look at Noah, whose fear rocketed when his brothers wouldn’t meet his gaze, either.
Although he must certainly smell the stench of Noah’s mounting terror, the alpha smiled. Wade. Wasn’t that the new alpha’s name? He studied Noah for moments that felt like lifetimes, his stare lingering on Noah’s forearm crutches. Noah slumped his shoulders, trying to look as insignificant as possible. The accident had stunted his growth, and he’d topped out at five foot six inches. He couldn’t pull off invisibility, but at least being small wasn’t difficult, even if being shorter than everyone else in the room was another strike against him.
“This is the boy?”
Noah shivered at the alpha’s voice.
Stress lines bracketing his mouth, Noah’s father confirmed that Noah was indeed the boy with a murmured, “Yes.”
“The pact you formed with the old alpha demands the selection of this generation’s alpha mate among your children. Since the child specified, your eldest, married a human,” Wade said, mouth twisting to a terse grin, “I can now pick from your sons, and your family is required to give him up.” When Noah peered through a layer of lashes, the alpha nodded. “You may consider the pact satisfied.” He angled his head at Noah. “Him.”
Noah’s stomach plummeted to the floor. His jaw dropped.
He blinked at the dark-haired alpha.
What had just happened?
“No!” Dad’s stare snapped up. “Take one of my other sons if you insist on fulfilling the pact. Each of them is ready and willing to go with you.” Flanking his father on the couch, Noah’s three brothers bobbed their heads in uniform agreement. “But not Noah.”
“You’ve broken our laws and defied this pack long enough. You can pay for those crimes. Or you can honor the mating pact.” The alpha’s lips thinned to a grim line. “I choose the boy.”
A pair of betas strode across the short width of the room. They grabbed Noah by his biceps. “Dad,” Noah said while he ineffectively jerked his elbows and forearm crutches to try to break free. “You said leaving the pack negated the old mating pact,” Noah pleaded with his father. With the city shifters. With anyone who would listen. “You said they didn’t care about us anymore.”
The alpha shifted his frown to Noah. “Your father was wrong.”
Mikael bolted to his feet, a snarl on his lips, but Dad halted the rebellion with his white-knuckled grip on Mikael’s arm. “Stop, you fool. Or they’ll kill us all.”
Eyes wide, grief-stricken torment writ across his face, Mikael sank to the couch.
Noah’s last hopes died.
The taut, avid attention of the gathered betas and the angry glitter in their alpha’s glare proved they hadn’t driven to the farm to enforce an obsolete mating pact. Arranged matings were barbaric. Though shifters drafted the agreements to convey special honor and status, few were executed. No one pushed to fulfill a mating pact unless both parties were willing, even at the top of the shifter hierarchy where the practice most often continued to foster alliances between packs. But as much as Noah loved his family, they weren’t another pack. No political benefit would be fostered or gained here. His dad had been important among the city shifters once, the most trusted of the old alpha’s betas, but after the accident, his family became rogue wolves, outsiders. And criminals. They hardly merited the high regard and attention of the new alpha.
Wade wanted revenge. That was the only explanation.
City shifters had left his family alone as long as they’d stayed out of sight, but the new alpha’s largess had made them sloppy. Stupid. Lydia marrying Noah’s physical therapist had crossed a line, no matter how they’d convinced themselves the pack wouldn’t notice or care. Noah would now pay the price. With the eldest child mated, Wade could choose among the remaining siblings according to the letter of the law regardless of how little mating pacts were enforced, even in the city. Wade was right about that. Dragging Noah away was a vicious taunt, the alpha daring his family to object, and perhaps provoking his father and brothers into a fight they couldn’t win. Not against this many betas.
Noah was doomed.
Maybe his family, who had sacrificed so much for him, didn’t need to be.
“I’ll go.” Sandwiched between the two betas, Noah let his body go slack. His fear coiled like vipers in his belly, but he stopped struggling. The shifters lifted him until his feet dangled uselessly above the floor. “I’ll do whatever you want, if you grant my family amnesty. If you don’t hurt them.”
The alpha beamed in predatory triumph. “Agreed.”
Noah hung limply between the pair of betas as they dragged him toward Wade, whose smile roiled Noah’s stomach.
“In the car,” Wade ordered the betas.
While the collected shifters parted to create a path for the two manhandling Noah to the door, Noah’s father at last made a shaky attempt to help him. “He needs his medicines, his extra brace and forearm crutches, his computers—“
When Noah looked over his shoulder, the alpha cut Noah’s father off with a sharp wave. “You’ve done enough harm to him. The boy is no longer your concern.”
Oh God.
They muscled Noah, heart thundering, to the nearest of a fleet of black Chevy Tahoe’s. He swore he wouldn’t gamble his family’s safety, but he flinched then. He stiffened in the beta’s grasp when they opened the SUV door. He couldn’t go into that vehicle. He’d be helpless. Captured. They could hurt him. Maybe kill him.
He jerked away—and earned a light cuff to his temple in rebuke.
His brothers wrestled. Often. All shifters did. The mock battles that frequently resulted in bloodied noses and bruises were their way of jockeying for position even in a group as small as their family or that’s what his mother had said when Noah was younger. His brothers had never touched him, though. Shifters could take the rough and tumble, but not Noah. He’d been physically vulnerable, easily injured.
The blow, however gentle, rocked him to the core.
He’d known pain—endless surgeries, torturous physical therapy, and a shattered body that refused to function properly. But he’d never suffered as much as a casual swat on his butt when he’d misbehaved as a child and none of the typical punishments meted out by his father to maintain discipline among the adult wolves since.
“Don’t look at me like that. And stop cringing. We won’t abuse you.” The beta frowned. “You’re a shifter. He’s ordered you to be treated as one. That’s all.”
That didn’t reassure him considering bitter experience had taught him shifters were the most brutal of nature’s creatures. More scared than he’d ever been in his life, Noah stopped resisting, though, and they shoved him into the back seat of the Tahoe. They took away his forearm crutches, cramming the lightweight supports at their feet on the floor. When Noah instinctively reached for them, the shifters tied his hands with rope. The engine roared to life, and the Tahoe shot forward, zooming from the farm while the betas bound his feet, too. Once he was restrained, they ignored him. Terror balled inside Noah as he waited for what would happen next.
After they reached the blacktop of the main road, the Tahoe turned right, toward town. When one of the betas caught him spying out the window and watching the long tail of headlights leaving the farm, Noah yanked his gaze down. He hunched over to protect his stomach, but the anticipated blows never landed.
One of the betas snorted scathing disapproval. “They should be punished.”
“Wade granted amnesty. You heard him.”
“Still.”
“When we slow on the next straight stretch, the lead cars can overtake us,” the driver said into the head set of a cell phone and then glanced in the rearview mirror. “Alpha Wade wants to know if the boy is all right.”
“He’s fine.” The beta smiled. “As docile as a lamb.”
Noah squeezed his eyes shut. Please let that be enough. See? I’m cooperating. No reason to go back to the farm to murder my family. No reason to hurt them—or me.
The vehicles streamed into the city. The fleet of cars blended into traffic headed to the far side of town, where Noah and his brothers had been forbidden. Noah had only ever left the farm to sneak to doctor’s appointments. They hadn’t dared anything else. His father had even installed an indoor pool so he could do his physical therapy at home rather than chance facilities in the pack’s territory. He’d rarely been in town, never this part of the city, and certainly not at night. The lights overwhelmed him, a headache quickly building at the sensory overload of flashing neon, blaring car horns, and the assault of foreign smells, mostly fried food and car exhaust. He glued his gaze on his hands, but that morning’s migraine flared back to life. Agony pounded his skull, behind his eyes, at the base of his neck. His tender stomach couldn’t take a second assault that day, and despite the breathing techniques he’d learned from Dr. Phares, Noah moaned in warning. “I’m going to throw up.”
One of the men cursed, a heavy hand landing on Noah’s nape to push his head between his knees. “Keep driving. We’re too close to stop now.”
Noah vomited water and bile to the floor while the other beta grabbed a phone. Noah hurt too bad to make out the words.
The Tahoe screeched to a halt moments later. They opened the door on Noah’s right. They pushed him from the car. He tried to force his legs under him to walk, or at least stand, but with his crutches inside the vehicle, his feet bound, and his head aching, he dangled between the two goons. A gentle but firm fist in his hair eased his gaze up. He groaned, squinting at bright spotlights in front of the pack house.
“His senses are over-stimulated.” When the alpha’s stare dropped to the rope binding Noah’s wrists and ankles, he scowled. “I thought you said he wasn’t fighting this, that he was okay. Why is he restrained?”
“He balked at climbing into the rig. You said you didn’t want him hurt. When he panicked, we tied him to ensure he didn’t injure himself,” one of the betas answered. “He settled down then.”
“Because he’s petrified.” The alpha grimaced. “He’ll be calmer once he’s inside and cleaned up. Take him upstairs, but keep the rooms quiet. Dark. Untie him. I’ll decide if he’s a danger to himself.”
They carried him away again, through the double front doors of the pack house. They strode into a gauntlet of gawking shifters inside. The two betas hauled him up a wide staircase. The foreign scents in the house—of other shifters, of lemon-scented cleaners and even here, the city smells—overpowered him. He concentrated just to avoid vomiting again. They guided him into a bathroom three flights up. He screamed, the blinding glare of overhead lights too much for him. Thankfully, one of the betas doused the light and flicked another switch for dimmer sconces topping a mirror above the sink. When the betas stripped him, he was too sick to fight them. Even when they removed the rope cuffing his wrists and ankles, he couldn’t manage more than clumsy twitches. They unbuckled his leg brace and discarded it with a negligent toss. His glasses were set aside on the vanity with more care. Blurrier now, the two strangers pushed him to sit on the lid of the toilet. Noah had never felt this naked, not only of his clothes, but stripped of the supports that helped him walk, of even his sight with his glasses tucked away. Shaking, he rubbed angry red marks the rope had left on his wrists, but knew the shifters didn’t need restraints anymore. Without his brace, crutches, and glasses, he was helpless.
Startled, he jumped nervously when the alpha strode through the bathroom door. “Reminders of other scents will confuse him. Destroy his clothes,” Wade told one of the betas, who snatched up the piles of fabric and scrambled to leave. “Help me with him,” he ordered the remaining shifter. They lifted Noah by his biceps and pushed him into the shower. Hot water soon relaxed his cramping muscles. Fully clothed, Wade joined him under the shower and scrubbed him with a scratchy sponge while the other shifter held him upright. Wade washed Noah’s hair twice and then traded shampoo for a softer sponge to thoroughly clean Noah again.
By the time Wade hauled him from the shower to towel him dry, the smells of his father, brothers, and home had washed away.
Noah’s mind shut down.
They walked him through another door to a utilitarian bedroom and dumped him on a narrow bed, where he lay in a boneless heap. The beta placed a basin next to him. “In case you throw up again.”
“His body temperature is lower than ours, more human than shifter. Turn the thermostat up. I don’t want him uncomfortable.” The alpha leaned over him, palm cupping Noah’s cheek. “You’re going to be all right. I promise.”
Noah shut his eyes, and after they’d gone, when the room was dark and the ticking of the baseboard heater proved the alpha’s command had been obeyed, Noah finally realized he wouldn’t be raped. He wasn’t safe, but they were leaving him alone. For now. He surrendered to exhausted sleep.
* * * * *
When he awoke, the basin was gone. Someone had moved him under the sheets and a green cotton blanket. He smelled a stranger in the room, but numb by his terror, Noah didn’t cringe. He turned inside the snug cocoon of covers to find the indistinct blur of a new shifter standing guard at the door a few feet away. Miraculously, his wire-rim glasses rested on an otherwise bare night table. He groped and awkwardly shoved his glasses onto his nose. Able to see now, Noah lowered his gaze in the submissive pose he was positive would be expected of a prisoner and used the opportunity to surreptitiously study his guard. He was tall like most shifters and dark, with a long tail of black hair streaming down his back from an elastic band at his nape. He was dressed like city shifters—jeans, a simple blue work shirt, and scuffed boots. Noah couldn’t be sure. Last night was a blur and all shifters looked the same to him, big and bulky with muscle. As blunted as his sense of smell tended to be, though, he didn’t recognize this shifter’s scent. This one was new.
The stranger frowned, but didn’t speak to him. Instead, the guard reached for a cell phone strapped to his waist. “He’s awake.”
Without his leg brace or forearm crutches, Noah sat up in the bed and scooted to lean against the plain oak headboard. He tugged the blanket up to his chin, only his head remaining uncovered. He had to pee and his bad leg hurt like fire, but until he knew how much trouble he’d landed in, he wouldn’t move again.
One of the betas from last night walked into the sparse room moments later, and Noah sighed in relief that it wasn’t the shifter who’d slapped him. “He hasn’t been up?”
“Too scared.” The guard studied Noah through narrowed eyes. “He’s pretty scrawny. I’m not sure he can.”
The newcomer grunted. “Wade won’t like that. C’mon.” He and the guard tore Noah’s blanket away. They helped him to the bathroom, and when Noah couldn’t stand upright, the beta from last night supported him while Noah urinated into the toilet. And Noah thought his hospital stays were embarrassing? The pokes and prods from dozens of human nurses hadn’t compared to this. The shifters steadied him while he washed his hands and brushed his teeth. They handed him a comb for his hair, then a washcloth to wipe his face.
When they returned him to the bedroom, they plunked him in a tangled clump on the mattress, but his bladder wasn’t ready to burst. They’d permitted basic grooming. A tray of food now rested on the night table where his glasses had been. Noah’s mouth watered at mountains of scrambled eggs, toast, and bacon.
His morning could have been a lot worse.
The guard exited the bedroom, but the beta from last night stayed. He nodded to the food. “Eat.”
Noah stared at the steaming platter. His empty stomach yowled. He guessed the meal could have been drugged, but they didn’t need to sedate him to make him do what they wanted. They must not have settled on killing him. Not yet at least, not if they were feeding him. He didn’t see any purpose in starving, especially since refusing food would be considered a challenge. That, Noah knew, would be met with merciless efficiency.
Wrapping a corner of the blanket around him to cover his nudity, he reached for the tray. It was heavier than it looked, weighed down with more food than Noah was accustomed to, and he snorted when he noticed the cutlery was plastic. Like he was dangerous?
“You’re on suicide watch.”
Noah’s jaw dropped. “I don’t want to die,” he protested.
The beta shrugged. “Sick and injured wolves do desperate things.”
Sure, they did. Like submit to antiquated mating pacts to spare the lives of their kin. But a deal was a deal. City shifters might deem Noah damaged beyond repair, but that didn’t mean he couldn’t hold up his end of that bargain. “I said I’d cooperate.”
The shifter rolled his eyes. “Then, eat.”
Noah glared at the beta before grudgingly returning his attention to his food. The massive portions were more in line with the quantities his brothers and his dad regularly consumed. Shifting burned lots of energy. They needed the extra calories. Noah didn’t. Dr. Phares had him on a strict diet, carefully balancing nutrition and caloric intake so he wouldn’t gain weight that could throw off his precarious balance or hinder his physical therapy. He never went hungry, but he never enjoyed this kind of excess, either. Though his family mixed with humans often, most shifters didn’t. The city pack was no judge of proper portions for damaged wolves like him.
Still, he couldn’t refuse.
Picking at the scrambled eggs, he lifted a bite on the ridiculous plastic fork to sniff it. According to Dr. Phares, his sense of smell was almost as muted as a human’s, but blunted senses were better than none at all. His nose scented nothing amiss. Just eggs. He poked out his tongue to test the taste and groaned at the explosion of cheese mingling with the eggs. He shut his eyes, a shiver of delight working up his spine. When had he last been allowed cheese? Probably not since his mother’s heart attack, shortly after his recovery plateaued following his first shifts.
If cheese masked the taste of drugs, Noah didn’t care.
He shoveled the bite into his mouth. Then another. And another. Ducking his gaze to avoid the tiny curl at one corner of the beta’s lips, which Noah supposed passed for a smile, he ate scrambled eggs—only the eggs—until his cavernous stomach filled. Before last night, he might’ve been embarrassed at his haste, but the food tasted wonderful. Besides, with his modesty preserved by only the stingy corner of a blanket, pride numbered among the many items he couldn’t afford anymore. He ate rapidly and gluttonously, reasoning that increasing his food intake must have balanced out the calories he’d burned while he’d struggled with his terror last night. Even then, when his fork slowed, mounds of food remained on the platter.
“More,” the beta commanded.
Too bad Noah couldn’t justify consuming the rest. Piles of crispy bacon taunted him especially, but he didn’t know when or if he’d see a pool for exercise again. He didn’t want to risk force-feeding, though. He nudged the eggs with his fork. Squaring his shoulders, he screwed up his nerve to ask for his leg brace. “I can’t walk without it,” he said, pausing to consider how to condense the dry terms in a way someone unfamiliar with his medical history would understand. “My knees hyper-extend. Mostly the right leg, but also the left. I wish I could control that, but I can’t. I could dislocate the joints, tear muscles and tendons. Unless you want to carry me to the bathroom every time I have to pee or watch me crawl—“
“Eat.” The beta crossed his arms over his chest.
That wasn’t a “no” exactly. To show his good will, Noah forked more fluffy eggs into his mouth. “I need my medicines, too,” he said after he’d consumed the bite. “Pins stabilize my hips. The white lines running down my legs? Those are scars from my surgeries. Dr. Phares said I might be able to walk without pins, plates, and bars strengthening my bones once I’m fully grown, but not yet.”
“You’re twenty years old.”
“Exactly.” Noah nodded. “I’m small, even by human standards. Dr. Phares wants to give me another year to see if I hit a growth spurt delayed by the accident.”
“Shifters mature by sixteen.” The beta scowled at him. “You’re short and too skinny, but you’re an adult.”
Frowning, Noah shoveled another heaping mound of scrambled eggs he didn’t want into his mouth. He chewed and swallowed. “Listen, I’m not like you. Not like other shifters.”
“But you are a shifter.” The beta glowered. “A stubborn one who needs to shift.”
That was what he was afraid of and the last thing he should do. “My doctors adapted to my physiology. After I stopped therapeutic shifting to try to heal the damage, we worked around using bars and plates as much as we could, but I have a few left in me. Anything foreign to our bodies disappears during a shift, though. So I can’t shift, okay?”
Eventually, Noah stopped trying. He dutifully ate as much of his breakfast as he could stand. Only then did the beta move, walking to the bed to collect the still half-filled plate. “I won’t make trouble. I’ll do whatever he wants, I swear. Just please…tell me what’s happening? Why is he holding me prisoner?”
“You aren’t a prisoner. You were rescued,” the beta said, but when he left with the dirty dishes, Noah heard the lock click.
Emperor of Dragons by Davidson King
CHAPTER ONE
Emil
The storm currently raging outside the estate wasn’t the only indication the emperor of dragons was arriving today. There was a tornado named Jayce rushing about, making sure everything appeared as perfect as it could. I watched from the top of the stairs as he tutted over the choice of floral arrangements that Cain, The Blood Boss, had chosen.
My job was to guarantee all security was in place and the estate was secure. Oh, and that I wore the ridiculous five-piece suit Jayce had asked me to wear.
When Jayce’s life had been in danger a little over a year ago, Cain made the ultimate choice to change him into a vampire. Add into play that Jayce was the son of the deceased Queen of the Sea, Asherah; and a star god, Rigil; and he had a lot going on in his DNA. The power he held inside his tiny body wasn’t fully known, and there were days I found myself hoping that when it all reached its peak, it would be to our benefit.
“Emil, are you going to stand there all day? They’ll be here in minutes, and you’re daydreaming. Why are you staring?” Jayce smacked Cain on the arm. “Why is he not answering me?”
“Jayce, my love, please. It will be fine. All is in order, and Emil is staring because he is old and wise and knows there is no answer that will be suitable.”
Jayce looked at me with raised brows, and I simply nodded. Cain was right; silence was best.
“Fine…okay. I’m sorry, I’m nervous. I mean, this guy is the emperor of dragons. That’s huge, right? That’s a big deal?” Again, his frantic gaze flitted from Cain to me and back to the vampire he loved.
“Aldrich is very powerful; he holds more magic than any of us would know what to do with. I have met him only the once, but he was kind and respectful. I think he will find you quite endearing.” Cain pressed a kiss to Jayce’s forehead. “How about we go sit in the library and await news of his arrival?”
“I can let you know.” I took the rest of the steps down to the foyer. “And, Jayce, I haven’t met Aldrich ever, either. We’re in the same boat.” I leaned closer to him and lowered my voice. “Just let Cain do all the talking, and smile and nod a lot.”
That earned me a chuckle. “I can do that…I think.”
Once the two of them were out of sight, I went in search of Petru. He and I always oversaw all security and safety procedures. We dealt with humans and other creatures who broke laws in Black Veil and would be the ones torn apart if this very important meeting went south.
I found Petru outside, under the large awning, speaking with the guards. I held back and waited until he was done and once they all dispersed, I approached.
“Everything in order out here?”
“Yes.”
“Inside is good as well. You will be outside when the emperor and his entourage arrive; I will be in the foyer with Cain and Jayce.”
“Understood.”
“Due to the weather Cain wants the meeting to take place in the library, but they are to be shown to their rooms to relax and settle in.”
Cain needed this visit to go well. We were all surprised—not only when the dragons accepted the invitation to talk, but that the emperor himself would be in attendance.
“Is the staff not doing that?” Petru asked.
“They are. I’m just telling you the order of things, big guy.” I patted his arm. “Nervous?”
“No. I do not like dragons.” Petru wasn’t a talker. His Russian accent sometimes made it hard for others to understand him, but I’d known him for a ridiculously long time and had no issues.
“I’ll admit, I wish this whole thing was over already. But it should only be for a week. We listen, watch, and let the boss do the talking—at least we’re not him.” Petru nodded in agreement.
I didn’t envy Cain in this endeavor. Getting the dragons to come back on board with sending some of their own over twice a year, so we could all feed from them, was going to be tricky. Since the merfolk had started attacking anyone or anything in the seas trying to get to Black Veil, the dragons had broken their agreement to assist. Now that a treaty was in place with the new king of the sea, we were hoping Aldrich would revert to our original agreement.
Honey, Cain’s newly acquired assistant, approached Petru and me. “I received word the dragons have entered Black Veil. It shouldn’t be long now.”
“Thanks, Honey.” I faced Petru. “Would you update Cain?”
“Yes.” He stalked off toward the library while I did one more sweep of the bottom floor.
I wasn’t nervous like Jayce, nor was I irritated like Petru. I didn’t have an opinion of the dragons. They’d gotten the call hundreds of years ago like the rest of us that this world needed our help. They’d answered it, and without them it would have crumbled. We all had jobs to do and needed to work with each other. I could understand that.
What I wasn’t happy about was how pretentious they were. I’d held congress with quite a few dragons in my life, and each thought they were the best of all creatures. They sneered at anyone not born of dragon blood and never had a good word for humans. This visit would be very interesting; I could only hope Aldrich was as kind and respectful as Cain said he was.
The kitchen was bustling when I went to check on the staff. The dragons’ appetites were plentiful and specific, keeping the cooks on their toes and causing a lot of chaos. I left them to it and went to double-check the rooms the dragons would be using.
“I gave the largest guest room to the emperor.” Mancy opened the first door. “I was told his sister, Aubrianna, would be in attendance as well; her room is beside his.”
“Very good, Mancy. And the others?”
“Directly across the hall. I figured they’d like to be close to each other. It also gives them the feel that they have a whole wing.”
“Well done. Let Honey know if you need any extra help up here during their stay. It can be arranged.”
“Thanks, Emil.” Mancy hurried off, likely to complete last-minute duties.
“Emil, they’re ten minutes out,” Honey said when I reached the foyer.
I went to the library to inform Cain and retrieve Petru. “Sir, they’ll be here soon. Petru, take position.”
“Jayce, would you like to stay in here and be introduced when we come into the library?” Cain gathered Jayce’s hand in his. There was no hiding Jayce’s nervousness.
“No…no, I can do this.” He stood and, hand in hand, Cain and Jayce left the library.
Petru took a few vampires with him outside and I waited with Cain and Jayce. Honey was by the door, and we were ready for our guests.
As stoic as ever, The Blood Boss waited for the emperor of dragons, and I remained vigilant for any outcome that would present itself when those doors opened.
Catch a Tiger by the Tail by Charlie Cochet
Chapter One
He was being hunted.
The shadows around him swirled and drifted as if he were underwater. If he wasn’t careful he’d drown all right, in his own blood.
Calvin kept a steady grip on his rifle. He breathed in slow through his nose and released it through his mouth, his breath coming up warm against his skin thanks to the face mask shielding him from the bitter cold. Thank God for THIRDS thermal uniforms. He would have frozen his ass off by now without it. Three degrees. What the ever-loving fuck? This was New York City, not Canada. Any day now it would drop below zero; he just knew it. These guys picked the wrong day to fuck up. Felid agents enjoyed a frolic in the snow as much as the next Therian, but not in the middle of the night, and sure as shit not when it was cold enough to freeze their whiskers off. Pissed-off Felids equaled epic hissy fits.
There was a faint cackle in the distance, and he turned with exceptional care, his boots sinking into the blankets of freshly fallen snow. His earpiece came to life, Dex’s quiet voice hushed on the other end.
“Calvin, visuals?”
“Negative,” Calvin replied, continuing onward. It was eerily quiet. As if the city itself was slumbering and hiding from the unrelenting cold. The only sounds around him were the howling wind and the snow compressing underneath his boots. The wind picked up, and the snow fell in earnest. It made finding the gang of hyena Therians in Central Park’s North Woods even harder, especially with their own agents in their Therian forms out there hunting. Maybe his Human teammates were having better luck. He doubted it, considering how quiet his com was. Ethan had caught the scent of one of their suspects several minutes ago and disappeared into the woods. Calvin hadn’t heard from or seen his partner since, meaning Ethan was still stalking. Somewhere in the pitch-black night, Sloane and Ash were doing the same. Cael, the lucky bastard, got to sit in the warmth of their BearCat working surveillance.
A perimeter had been set up down E. Seventy-Ninth Street, cutting through Central Park, up Central Park West, across 110th Street, and down Fifth Avenue. If any of these assholes tried to make a break for the city, they’d be met with a shower of tranqs and Theta Destructive’s Therian agents in their Therian form. It was up to Destructive Delta to make sure they didn’t get that far.
There was another distinct cackle, closer this time. Calvin picked up his pace and spoke into his com. “I heard something. I’m gonna check it out.”
“What’s your position?” Dex asked, his tone void of its usual humor. Sparks had been kicking their asses in training for weeks since the whole mess with Shultzon and the facility went down, but no one was getting it as bad as Dex and Sloane. The two were being groomed. They all knew it. Hell, even Dex and Sloane knew it. They just didn’t know what for. In the meantime, his teammates went along with it. None of them were against strengthening or widening their skill set, especially Dex, who was still trying to figure out what his skill set was. In Calvin’s opinion, Dex was secretly enjoying the grueling regime. Eventually he’d get to the bottom of whatever Sparks was keeping from them. Dex always did.
“I’m coming up behind the Blockhouse.” Calvin slowed as he approached the old military fortification. It had been built in the 1800s to defend against the British. Now it was a deathtrap. Any number of Therians could be hiding in or around its stone walls.
“Watch your back,” Dex said.
“Affirmative.” Calvin crouched down by some dense shrubbery draped in layers of fluffy white and scanned the area. Half a dozen or so feral hyena Therians were hiding somewhere in here, all high as kites. THIRDS agents had been issued a warrant and sent to arrest the gang after receiving a tip-off to their location. Before the team could make the arrest, the gang managed to escape by blowing their meth lab into the next town. Luckily there were no casualties, but the group caused havoc through the city before teams from Unit Alpha cornered them in Central Park. That was over an hour ago.
Spotted hyena Therians were anything but the cowards many Humans pegged them to be. In their feral form they were lethal, skilled at hunting at night, had powerful jaws, moved in packs, and defended themselves fiercely. A low giggle met Calvin’s ear, and a shadow moved behind the Blockhouse. He readied his tranq rifle before moving in.
“THIRDS! Come out slowly!” Calvin held his rifle firm and took aim at the hyena growling at him from the shadows, its glowing eyes following his every move. Slowly it crept forward, the darkness following it as if it were some otherworldly spirit. It laughed, calling to its friends. The hairs on the back of Calvin’s neck stood on end, and he spun just as a hyena Therian lunged at him, knocking him off his feet. His body hit the snow, the Therian’s jaws clamping down on his rifle. Shit! Movement from his left caught his attention, and he swiped his backup tranq gun from his vest to fire at the approaching Therian. The tranq got him in the neck, and he yelped before scurrying off.
Calvin wrestled with the hyena Therian attempting to crunch his rifle like a tasty bone. Saliva dripped onto Calvin’s uniform, and he caught sight of a third hyena Therian circling him, looking for the right angle to pounce. All right, he’d had just about enough of this bullshit. Calvin fired his tranq gun at the Therian chewing on his rifle, and the asshat stumbled off him, the dart sticking out of his neck. He shook his head and laughed that creepy sound of theirs. Multiple sets of glowing eyes and dark shapes popped up in the woods around him. What the hell?
Calvin scrambled to his feet and tapped his com. “Dex, there’s more than six!”
“What?”
“I don’t know where the hell they came from, but I’m looking at seven or eight. Maybe more.”
“Shit. Hang tight. We’re heading your way.”
Calvin fired at the glowing eyes as he backed up slowly. He heard a yelp followed by several cackles, whoops, and laughs. They moved fast as hell. Calvin wasn’t in the habit of missing, but his accuracy depended highly on him being able to actually see his target. Every time he aimed at a set of eyes he assumed was attached to the dark blob surrounding it, it shifted or disappeared. He had to draw them out. Fuck. He hated this part.
Slinging his rifle strap back into place, he broke off into a run in the opposite direction, which was a pain in the ass in the heavy snow, thanks to the weight of his equipment. He moved as fast as he could, the cackles and laughs getting closer as the Therians emerged from the darkness to give chase. There was a small bridge ahead that crossed over the frozen creek. Hauling ass, he headed for the bridge, chancing a swift glance over his shoulder. Please let this work.
A pack of growling hyena Therians were right on his tail, almost close enough to nip at his heels. He pushed himself harder, his brow beaded with sweat and his lungs burning from the frosty air he was gulping down as he raced through the woods. If he stopped, they’d all descend on him like feral beasts, tearing at him until there was nothing left of him but his equipment. They wouldn’t even leave his bones. Fuck that. He wasn’t about to become a meal for these assholes.
“Ethan!” Calvin cried out, knowing his partner would hear him wherever he was. His best friend would never let anything happen to him if he could help it. Ethan would be there to fight for him, to look out for him, and keep him safe. They had each other’s backs, on and off the field. It’s how it had always been. The two of them against the world.
From the corner of his right eye, he caught sight of one of the hyena Therians fast approaching. It launched itself at him, and Calvin fired his rifle, but it didn’t stop the bastard from barreling into him and knocking him over. It clamped its jaws down on Calvin’s shoulder, its teeth sinking through the fabric and hitting his ballistic vest’s integrated shoulder plate, giving Calvin enough time to throw a right hook, catching the bastard on the side of the head. With a yelp it rolled off, only to quickly recover, fangs bared as it snarled at him.
The fierce roar that erupted from somewhere in the woods had a paralyzing effect. The tree branches shook, the snow plopping to the ground. Soon enough the hyena Therians snapped out of it and charged Calvin. He readied himself, grabbing his rifle and taking aim, when Ethan leaped out from the darkness and skidded to a stop in front of Calvin. He roared again, huge sharp fangs bare. The sound was terrifying, bringing everything and everyone to a halt for a slip of a moment. Two of the hyena Therians darted off with yips and whines. Half a dozen or so remained.
“Okay, buddy. Let’s do this.” Calvin got to his feet and cocked his rifle. The Therians scattered, and he took off after them, Ethan at his side. Ethan kept the hyena Therians from disappearing into the woods, roaring and leaping out, driving them out into the open areas of the park. It was exactly what Calvin needed. A nice clear shot.
Calvin anticipated their movements, shooting where he thought they’d be instead of reacting. He plugged one in two places. It dropped into the snow. The remaining gang members did everything they could to stay out of Ethan’s way while still attempting to get close to Calvin. His claws would take them out in one swipe. Snow flew like waves crashing against a shore as Ethan ran, leaped, and swatted his paws. Realizing they didn’t stand a chance against a tiger Therian, they all scattered and took off toward Calvin.
“Where the hell are you guys?” Calvin yelled into his com. Just as he said the words, Ash roared. He emerged from the shrubs, launching himself at two of the hyena Therians. They attacked him, biting at his massive mane and getting nothing but a mouthful of fur. Letty tore through the trees, tranq guns blazing. Sloane was seconds behind with Dex on his tail. Dex aimed his rifle and fired. Another one down. Their Felid teammates corralled the remaining hyena Therians while Dex, Calvin, and Letty approached with rifles at the ready.
“On the ground!” Dex ordered. “Get on the ground now!”
The hyena Therians did as asked, dropping down to their bellies, their ears flattened. Sloane, Ash, and Ethan circled the perps, hissing and growling, their sharp fangs on display as a warning to anyone thinking of doing something stupid. One wrong move, and they’d be kitty chow.
Dex tapped his com. “Sarge, area’s secure. We have the remaining Therians.”
“Copy that,” Maddock replied. “Theta Destructive is backing up their truck.”
“Copy that.” Dex kept his rifle aimed at the perps as he addressed them. “You can either get in the truck on your own or be carried after we tranq you. It’s your choice. Try anything funny, and our Felid agents will be happy to remind you why cooperating is in your best interest.”
The truck arrived, and Theta Destructive’s agents hurried out. They rounded up the unconscious hyena Therians and laid them in the cage. The ones not tranqed begrudgingly trotted up the ramp and into the back of the truck. A couple hesitated in front of the cage, but Ethan’s roar got them moving quick after that. With the remaining perps locked up and secure, the doors closed, and the truck was off.
“Thank God that’s over,” Letty grumbled, giving Ash a scratch behind his ear. He scrunched his nose and shook his head, causing snow to fall from his mane.
Ethan sat beside Calvin and pushed his nose against his leg. With a chuckle, Calvin gave Ethan a nice scratch behind his ear and over his head. Not content with a mere ear scratch, Ethan mewed and bumped his head against Calvin’s leg. “Yeah, all right,” Calvin said with a laugh. He crouched down and scratched Ethan under his chin and the sides of his face, ruffling his thick fur. Ethan shut his eyes in contentment before bumping his head playfully against Calvin’s. He chuffed, then let out a low moan, one Calvin was familiar with. Ethan had been worried. It was evident in the noises he made, and his rubbing his head against Calvin, as if touching him was the only way to reassure himself Calvin was okay. “I’m good, Ethan. Promise.”
“Let’s get the hell out of here,” Letty said, heading in the direction of their BearCat. “I’m fucking starving.” Ash hopped and pounced after her. Clearly he was hungry as well. Sloane bounded after Ash, smacking him on the rump with his paw. Ash growled and chased him, the two frolicking in the snow and pouncing, sending each other tumbling.
“You’d think they’d be tired of the snow by now,” Dex said, shaking his head in amusement.
Calvin motioned toward Dex’s arm, the one with Sloane’s mark. “How did it go? Does it work?” Despite being on callouts for a month now, this had been the first really dangerous call. They’d all been worried about Dex being out among a bunch of feral Therians with his lover’s Therian mark on his arm. Before they left, Sparks had called Dex into her office and given him some kind of scent masking sleeve to wear under his uniform. She’d warned him it only lasted a few hours, so he better get whatever he needed done before it wore off. It was clearly TIN issued, because there was nothing out there in the market that could mask a Therian scent like that.
“So far it’s working great. If they smelled anything on me, it was Sloane’s usual scent. Shame it doesn’t have a longer shelf life. Still, I don’t know why there’s nothing out there like this.”
“I’m not surprised, to be honest,” Calvin admitted. “Marking is serious. I mean, not even marriage is permanent. That”—Calvin pointed to Dex’s arm—“is.”
Dex went pensive, and Calvin wondered if Dex and Sloane were aware of the kind of commitment they’d made to each other. The majority of Therians had no idea how deep those scars ran. Humans knew even less.
For the most part, no one at work had challenged Sloane, but then everyone respected him at the THIRDS, whether they personally liked him or not, and none were stupid enough to challenge him. Jaguar Therians weren’t to be messed with. A good number of them were grumpy at the best of times, without being challenged over their lover. Taylor was a little funny around Dex and appeared to be doing his best to avoid him, but that was seen as more of a blessing in disguise than a great concern. With this new contraption on Dex’s arm, things should go back to normal. Well, as normal as was possible for Dex.
Dex turned to Calvin with a wicked smile. Uh-oh. He should have known Dex wouldn’t remain quiet for long.
“Are you thinking what I’m thinking?”
“Probably not,” Calvin replied with a laugh. He doubted anyone thought what Dex did.
Dex held his arms out at his sides and fell onto his back, his body compressing the snow under the weight of his equipment. Calvin laughed as Dex moved his arms up and down and his legs open and closed, declaring cheerfully, “Snow angels!”
It was official. His friend was a nutcase. “How old are you again?”
“Old enough to make some awesome snow angels. Come on.”
Calvin arched an eyebrow at him. “You want me to roll around in the snow wearing eighty pounds of tactical gear?”
“Yes! No one’s watching. We have a few minutes before someone comes looking for us.”
Calvin couldn’t believe he was even considering it. What the hell. Why not? He walked close to Dex, turned, and spread his arms before dropping back into the thick layers of snow. The two of them laughed like a couple of schoolboys as they wiped the snow with their limbs. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d done this. Actually, he could. It was with Ethan, back when they were a couple of lanky, awkward teens. They’d make snow angels in the empty parking lot near their old apartment building and lie there together laughing, watching the clouds go by. Speaking of his best friend, Ethan pounced into the snow next to Calvin, his tail twitching before he started rolling around in the snow.
“What in the hell are you three doing?”
Shit. Calvin sat up, feeling his cheeks burning. Ethan leaped behind him to hide. Like Maddock wouldn’t be able to spot his huge tiger Therian butt sticking out from behind Calvin. Dex, on the other hand, was unfazed by their sergeant’s scowl. He smiled widely up at Maddock. “Snow angels.”
“Let me rephrase that. Why in the hell are you two making snow angels?”
“Because it’s fun. Remember when you used to do them with me and Cael?” Dex turned his head to Calvin. “We lost my brother in the snow once. I shit you not. Dad had to excavate him.”
Calvin burst out laughing. “What?”
“It’s true,” Maddock grumbled. “The boys jumped into this huge mound of snow in the backyard despite my telling them not to a hundred times. Dex dug his way out the side of it, but Cael got lost. He was so small, wearing this puffy coat onesie.”
“Didn’t help that his onesie was white.” Dex sat up with a chuckle. He shook his head at his dad. “Not the brightest idea.”
Maddock shrugged. “Hey, I told him that, but it’s the one he wanted.”
Dex laughed. “He looked like a marshmallow.”
With a laugh, Calvin got to his feet. He helped Dex up, smiling as Dex and Maddock walked off, reminiscing about the brothers’ childhood shenanigans. Calvin followed, holding onto Ethan’s tail as his partner walked ahead of him. Felids hated having their tails grabbed, but Calvin had been holding onto Ethan’s since childhood. It had been their security blanket back when it was just the two of them.
Inside the BearCat, their team was secured in their seats with Sloane lying serenely at Dex’s feet. Ash sat beside Cael at the surveillance console, his eyes closed and his head on Cael’s lap as Cael went on about some new gadget he’d put together. Letty and Rosa chatted, while Maddock took the wheel. It was far too cold for their Therian teammates to want to shift back to Human form in the truck. Most Felids had little tolerance for the cold. Calvin was strapped in his seat at the end of the bench, and Ethan lay beside him on the floor, his large furry head resting on Calvin’s lap.
Man, he was beat. Another twelve-hour, ten-day rotation coming to an end. He couldn’t wait to get in, have a hot shower, and totally crash. As if sensing his thoughts, Ethan huffed. He rubbed his head against Calvin’s leg, seeking affection. Calvin obliged, absently stroking his head or scratching behind his ears as he listened to his team chatting. At one point Calvin dozed off, woken up only when Ethan nuzzled Calvin’s face. He couldn’t have drifted off long since the truck was still moving.
The near silence around him spoke volumes of how tired everyone was. Even Dex was mostly quiet, murmuring softly at Sloane while nuzzling him. Their Team Leader’s deep chainsaw-like purrs reverberated through the truck. His eyes were closed in contentment, and he didn’t care who heard him purr. The change in Sloane amazed Calvin. A year and a half ago Sloane had been ready and eager to kick Dex’s ass at the drop of a hat. The mere mention of the guy had been enough to draw a feral growl from Sloane.
It had been rough for all of them. Sloane had been miserable and, quite frankly, an asshole. Not that Calvin blamed him. He knew how much Sloane had been hurting. Now Sloane was so at peace, his tail didn’t even twitch. Calvin couldn’t help his smile. His friend was happy again. The team had mourned Gabe’s loss, and like Calvin, they’d begun to mourn the loss of their Team Leader and friend.
Dex lifted his head, and their gazes met. A warm smile came onto his friend’s face, as if he knew what Calvin had been thinking. With a wink, Dex turned his attention back to Sloane, who nudged at his hand until his muzzle was underneath it. Dex chuckled, leaving his hand on Sloane’s muzzle and scratching the top of his head with his free hand.
It had taken Calvin some time to figure Dex out, to see the man behind the big kid persona. Calvin understood why Ethan was able to talk to Dex. The guy was nothing but genuine in everything he did, loyal to a fault, and would go through the very gates of hell itself to protect those he cared about. Yeah, sometimes Dex did stupid things, but he wasn’t stupid. He had his reasons. Like his decision to go after Hogan on his own and keep it from Sloane. Dex’s habit of not following the rules got him into trouble, but everything he did came from a deep-rooted sense of justice, a need to do what was right. He simply needed to learn to have a little more faith in those around him.
Inside HQ, Ethan waited patiently in his Therian form outside the en suite shower of the Therian PSTC room they decided on instead of one of the curtained changing areas. This way Calvin could shower and get rid of his cold, wet clothes. Cael and Rosa brought Calvin, Dex, and Letty their toiletry bags from their lockers along with clean, dry uniforms. Once Calvin had showered and dressed, he administered Postshift Trauma Care.
Like so many other things between them, administering PSTC had changed. Every touch, every look, every breath held a different meaning. It turned into a battle of self-control for Calvin. He made sure Ethan drank a couple of bottles of Gatorade before handing over the power bars. When the dizziness stopped and Ethan was feeling strong enough, he grabbed a towel to slip around his waist, something he’d never done before. Calvin pretended he didn’t notice, and he continued gathering supplies as Ethan stepped into the shower. Afterward, Calvin helped him get dressed.
When he fastened the buttons on Ethan’s uniform shirt for him, he could feel Ethan’s heated gaze on him, his intense green eyes studying Calvin’s every move. Ethan could dress himself by this point, but instead he let Calvin do it. He stood silently before Calvin, his thick biceps, broad shoulders, expansive chest, and tapered waist driving Calvin to distraction. Ethan stood with his legs slightly apart and his hands on his muscular thighs.
Ethan had always been big and strong, but Calvin remembered their teenage years. Even tiger Therians were awkward during that time. Ethan’s limbs had been too long for him to maneuver efficiently. His clothes and his shoes never fit right. It seemed like he grew a couple of inches by the day. Meanwhile Calvin stopped growing when he reached five foot seven. As they got older, Calvin envied the easy way Ethan’s body had filled out, how he built muscle while Calvin had to work out every damn day. Muscle-building came naturally to tiger Therians. They were the biggest of the Felids, the heaviest. When Ethan turned sixteen, he had the body of a guy in his twenties. Eventually Calvin caught up, but he still maintained his boyish looks, making him look younger than Ethan despite being older. Occasionally Calvin would get carded at a bar or club, and Ethan laughed his ass off every time.
Calvin cursed under his breath as he struggled to get a button through one of the wonky holes. Ethan’s larger hand came to rest on Calvin’s, and he brushed his lips over Calvin’s temple to leave a feathery kiss. He took over the task of buttoning up his shirt the rest of the way. Calvin didn’t know what to do with himself when Ethan did things like that, randomly doing something to assure Calvin they were more than friends. Ethan was trying. It showed in his intimate gestures when no one was looking. It wasn’t that Calvin expected Ethan to be all over him, but his best friend was so reserved with his emotions, Calvin often wondered if Ethan wanted him as badly as he wanted Ethan.
Whenever they were alone, all Calvin could think about was kissing Ethan, touching him, feeling him. The need was overwhelming, and he hated how it put him in a pissy mood. He was trying his best to be patient. They’d fooled around since the incident in the surveillance van where they’d gotten each other off after a heated argument, but those moments had been few and far between, and it was always Calvin who initiated it. Why was he doing this to himself? He was too tired for this right now.
“Let’s get some food in you,” Calvin muttered. Ethan nodded, his big dopey grin making Calvin smile. Ethan always found a way to pull Calvin out of his funk.
They headed upstairs to the canteen. While Ethan ate his Therian-sized triple quarter pounder with fries and milkshake, Calvin struggled to stay awake. The end of a ten-day shift was tough enough without Sparks and her damn TIN Associate Training Program. For weeks now Destructive Delta had been pushed to its limits with cardiovascular conditioning, speed drills, strength training, flexibility, and Sparks’s mixed martial arts specialist, who was kicking their asses three times a week at a secure location. The location was so secret it wasn’t even disclosed to their team. Austen drove them there and back in the BearCat, and it was somewhere different each and every time.
Were their regular training schedule and callouts not enough? Between Sparks’s guy and Ash training them in Muay Thai and Close Quarter Combat, they were lucky they got a day off to themselves, and usually those days were spent recovering. Calvin almost passed out on the table but caught himself.
“Man, I think I’m gonna crash in one of the bays. I’m too tired to go home.”
Ethan nodded and finished his milkshake. He made a brushing movement in front of his teeth.
“Yeah, could you grab my stuff from my locker?” Calvin stood with a yawn. Ethan put his thumb up, and Calvin told him he’d leave the door open so Ethan could find him.
Calvin wasn’t the only one too tired to head home. There were a lot more sleeper bay doors closed than usual. From the speed at which Dex and Sloane disappeared, he’d wager a guess they were presently occupying one of those bays, though he doubted there was much sleeping going on. Those two were like a couple of horny teenagers. Calvin found an empty bay toward the end of the hall and walked in, leaving the door slightly ajar. He unfastened his thigh rig and placed it on the desk, followed by his phone and everything else in his pockets. Soon his boots, socks, and shirt were off. He draped his pants over the back of the chair, staying in his black undershirt and blue boxer briefs.
His toiletry bag had a toothbrush and toothpaste, but he just wanted to get that done and over with, so he used one of the newly packaged brushes on offer in one of the bay’s many service cubbyholes on the side wall. He brushed his teeth and rinsed at the small aluminum sink before wiping his mouth on the towel provided. The heating kept the room warm enough to sleep with a blanket and not be uncomfortable. Thank God for the sleeper bays. Home away from home.
Calvin sat on the edge of the bed, wondering what was taking Ethan so long. With a groan, he flopped onto his side and drew his legs up. Screw it. Pajamas were overrated anyway. His head hit the pillow, and next thing he knew he was being pulled back against a hard body. The room was shrouded in darkness, with only the soft glow from the hall coming in through the tiny slit under the closed door. With a soft sigh, Calvin turned in Ethan’s arms and snuggled up close. It wasn’t the first time Ethan had slept in one of the bays with him, or even in the same bed. Hell, they’d been doing it since they were kids. It was the first time Ethan had held him this close, their bare legs intertwined and Ethan’s warm breath against Calvin’s skin before he planted a kiss on Calvin’s brow. Ethan was in his boxers and T-shirt, his warm skin smelling of soap.
“Good night, Cal.”
It is now that you’re here. “Good night.” Calvin shimmied lower so he could rest his head against Ethan’s chest, the soft beating of his best friend’s heart lulling him. Ethan gave him a squeeze, and Calvin put his hand to Ethan’s chest before he drifted off into a peaceful sleep. Unfortunately, it didn’t last long.
Sometime in the middle of the night, Calvin was startled awake by Ethan’s screams. Calvin bolted upright, ready for a fight. Remembering where he was, he swiftly switched on the desk lamp and turned to find Ethan in the midst of a terrible fit. Whatever he was dreaming, it was bad, and Calvin quickly got out of bed. He knew from experience not to touch Ethan when he was having a nightmare like this. The first time Ethan slept at his house and went into a fit, Calvin had tried to wake him, and Ethan almost broke Calvin’s arm. That had been before Ethan had grown into his strength. Trying to subdue him now could prove lethal.
“Ethan, wake up,” Calvin called out gently, but loud enough to try and rouse him. Sweat dripped down the side of Ethan’s face, his expression one of terror and pain. It broke Calvin’s heart. “Please wake up, Ethan.”
Ethan arched his back, a horrific cry tearing from his lips, followed by an anguished, “Sloane!”
As if hearing Ethan’s cry for him, Sloane threw the sleeper bay door open and rushed in. As Team Leader, his handprint would override the security locks on any of the sleeper bay doors, and Calvin couldn’t have been more relieved to see him. Dex flipped on the lights, his gaze moving to the bed.
“What’s going on?”
“He’s having a nightmare. A bad one.” Calvin hated feeling helpless, especially where his best friend was concerned, but he was fully aware of his limitations as a Human. In all the years he’d known Ethan, he’d helped his friend through some tough nightmares, but none had ever come close to this.
“Wake him up.” Dex moved to the bed, and Sloane threw his arms around him, hauling him back just as Ethan screamed. His fangs started to elongate, and Calvin backed up near Sloane.
“He’s going to shift!”
Ash thundered into the room with Cael on his heels. “What the fuck is going on?”
Dex put a hand out in front of Cael, stopping him from getting closer. “It’s Hobbs. He’s having some kind of fit, and it looks like he might shift.”
“Shit. We have to do something.” Ash rushed over to the cubbyholes and started rifling through the Therian medical kit. “We need to sedate him. Where’s the fucking injector?”
“What happened?” Cael asked worriedly.
Ethan’s screams filled the room as his nails grew in and his mass began to shift, his muscles pulling and his body changing. They didn’t have much time. If Ethan shifted while he was asleep, who the hell knew what he’d do?
Calvin couldn’t understand. “He’s had plenty of nightmares before, but he’s never shifted through any of them. Whatever he’s dreaming about, it’s scaring the shit out of him. All I know is that he screamed Sloane’s name before he started shifting.”
Ash spun on his heels. “He what?”
“He was having a fit. Then he screamed Sloane’s name.”
“The facility. He’s dreaming about the goddamn facility.”
Sloane ignored the warnings and climbed onto the bed with Ethan. He wrestled him down, pinning him to the bed. Ethan hissed and tried to claw at him, but Sloane kept his arms down, though with Ethan being stronger Sloane wouldn’t be able to hold him down for long. At least it seemed to have stopped Ethan from shifting into his Therian form.
“Ash, help me out here.”
Ash ran over and helped Sloane keep Ethan pinned, the two struggling against Ethan’s determination to free himself at any cost.
“Hobbs, listen to me. It’s Sloane. I’m fine. I’m okay. Wake up, buddy. You’re dreaming. We’re not there anymore. Open your eyes. Listen to my voice. It’s okay.”
“Sloane!” Ethan cried, his eyes flying open. He gasped for air, his body trembling beneath Sloane and Ash’s hold. Slowly, Ash backed off.
“Hey, it’s okay,” Sloane assured him gently. He ran a hand over Ethan’s head and smiled. “It’s okay. Just a bad dream. You’re okay.”
Ethan’s eyes watered, and he threw his arms around Sloane, hugging him tight. Calvin’s pulse steadied, and he gingerly sat at the edge of the bed. At the feel of him, Ethan released Sloane and turned onto his side. He curled up around Calvin, his arm going around Calvin’s stomach and pulling him in close against him with a shuddered sigh.
“It’s okay. No one’s upset with you,” Calvin promised.
Ethan squeezed his arms around Calvin’s middle, and Calvin ran his fingers through Ethan’s hair, comforting him. He knew what his friend was thinking. It always followed a nightmare, or any of the countless things that would make Ethan feel self-conscious. Except, with Ethan’s anxiety, his embarrassment was always triple what anyone else’s would be. Sloane climbed off the bed, his hand going to Calvin’s shoulder and his expression sympathetic.
“Don’t sweat it, big guy,” Dex said, his tone gentle. “That’s what we’re here for. If you need anything else just let us know.”
“Thanks, guys. I appreciate it.”
Calvin was lucky to have a family like Destructive Delta. It was difficult for people to understand Ethan’s anxieties, much less have the patience it required on a daily basis. For Ethan it was a way of life, a constant struggle not to get overwhelmed by his fears. No one on his team ever hesitated when it came to Ethan. Sloane gave Calvin’s shoulder a pat and leaned in, his voice quiet in Calvin’s ear.
“He needs to talk about what happened.”
Calvin nodded. He thanked everyone again and waited for them to leave, grateful when Dex turned off the lights, leaving only the soft glow of the desk lamp. When the door closed and the room was silent, Calvin lay down facing Ethan. It had been a month since Shultzon’s goons had taken Ethan, Ash, and Sloane. Ethan refused to talk about what had happened. It was starting to take its toll.
“Ethan, please talk to me. Tell me about the facility.”
Ethan was quiet. His eyes were closed, his chest rising and falling steadily. He could have been asleep, but he wasn’t. Over the years Calvin had gotten to know every little hitch in his partner’s breath and what it meant. He could read Ethan Hobbs like an open book. From Ethan’s breathing alone, Calvin could tell if Ethan was asleep, upset, pissed off, or even having a wet dream. Right now Ethan was thinking. Like most of Ethan’s fears, his hesitation to tell Calvin meant this was about Ethan judging himself. That’s how Ethan’s anxieties ate away at him. His perception of how others saw him was skewed, and as much as Ethan was aware of it, he couldn’t stop it.
Calvin waited, giving Ethan time to put his thoughts into words, and then he waited for Ethan to take those words and find the voice to speak them. The latter was always the most difficult for his friend.
“When we were taken by Shultzon’s men…,” Ethan began softly, his voice barely above a whisper. “I woke up in a cage.”
Calvin gritted his teeth. He remained quiet, not wanting to interrupt Ethan. What he wanted to do was punch something. That son of a bitch, Shultzon. Wherever TIN had him, Calvin hoped the asshole was rotting away inside his own cage.
“They were supposed to have taken Seb, but Fuller made a mistake. He didn’t know there was more than one Hobbs. Shultzon was angry. He said I was… useless, because my disabilities were psychological and not physical like Seb’s. He called me….” Ethan’s eyes grew glassy, his pupils dilated. “He said I was broken. And then Ash was in a cage next to me trying to get out, and Sloane was strapped down to this horrible chair. They were going to inject the drug into him. I couldn’t help him.”
Ethan shut his eyes tight, and Calvin pulled him close. With a sniff, Ethan wrapped his arms around Calvin and buried his face against Calvin’s T-shirt.
“I dreamed I was back there, and they killed Sloane because I couldn’t help him. Because I was too scared. Broken.”
“Fuck Shultzon. That asshole was out of his fucking mind, Ethan. He wanted to turn Therians into mindless super soldiers. He messed with your head, and he did the same to Sloane and Ash.”
“And yet Ash got out.”
Ethan pulled back enough to look into Calvin’s eyes, the anguish gripping at Calvin’s heart and squeezing.
“Ash got himself out of his cage, and Sloane got out of the chair. I couldn’t get out. Could barely move. I’m stronger, and I couldn’t do anything.” Ethan shook his head, his lips pressed together as he tried to keep his emotions in check. “I was trained for those situations. If Ash hadn’t talked me off the ledge….”
Calvin put his hand to Ethan’s cheek. “Shultzon messed with you. He fucked up your meds.”
“And what does that say about me, huh?” Ethan asked, agitated. “I’m so fucked-up I can’t function without them anymore. I can’t…. Without the meds I’m nothing. I can’t do my job. I can’t have fucking dinner with my family. Thanksgiving was a disaster. You got into a fight because of me. Again. My whole life I’ve had someone fighting my battles for me because I’ve been too weak to do it myself.”
“We talked about Thanksgiving. That wasn’t your fault.” Calvin’s heart broke, but he did what he always did. He remained strong for Ethan, doing his best to soothe Ethan’s fears. Calvin wiped the wetness from Ethan’s reddened cheeks. “As for the rest, I will always fight for you. Not because you can’t fight for yourself, but because you’re my best friend. If some asshole has the balls to mess with you, he has to get through me first. I know you’re bigger than me, and stronger, but that doesn’t mean you’re not allowed to lean on me, Ethan. That’s what people do when they care about someone. Your fight becomes mine.”
“I’m going to be on meds for the rest of my life. What if they stop working?”
“Then we’ll find something else to help you.”
Ethan sat up and shook his head. “I hate that I have no control of my own head. That I have to rely on stupid little pills. Everyone thinks I’m a fucking spaz.”
“Hey, no one thinks that.” Calvin sat up with a frown. “Are you telling me our friends, who woke up at four in the fucking morning after a twelve-hour shift and ran in here to make sure you were okay, that they think that?”
Ethan shook his head, and Calvin took hold of his hand.
“No, they don’t. Look at your brother. How many prescriptions does Seb have? He can’t function without those pills either, and he’s the reason you wanted to become a THIRDS agent. You remember what he told you when you said you wanted to become an agent like him but couldn’t because of your mutism?”
Ethan nodded.
“Tell me.”
“He said my disabilities didn’t define me. I define me.”
“That’s right.” Calvin placed Ethan’s hand to his lips for a kiss. “You define you, Ethan. Not your meds, not your mutism, not anyone else. You.”
Ethan went quiet. He dropped his gaze to his hand in Calvin’s before looking up at him, his expression softening. “I got out for you, you know.”
“What do you mean?”
“In the cage, I couldn’t move. I was so scared. Ash told me to do it for you. He said you didn’t think I was broken.”
Ethan searched his gaze, and Calvin made sure Ethan found what he was looking for.
“And he was right,” Calvin replied with all the conviction he possessed. Twenty-four years they’d been inseparable, yet Ethan still needed to be reminded that Calvin was at his side because he wanted to be, needed to be, as much for himself as for Ethan. Calvin took Ethan’s face in his hands. “You’re not broken, Ethan. You’re amazing, and that will never change.” He stroked Ethan’s cheek with his thumb and smiled. “Thank you for getting yourself out of there. I couldn’t stop worrying about you.”
“It scares me sometimes,” Ethan said quietly.
“What’s that?”
“How much I need you.” Ethan pulled Calvin with him as he lay down. He snuggled up close and pressed his lips to Calvin’s.
Calvin closed his eyes and parted his lips, allowing Ethan to slip his tongue in and deepen the kiss. He didn’t question it or overthink it, just went with it. Whatever Ethan needed, Calvin would give.
Ethan’s lips were soft, his mouth warm and tasting faintly of mint. Calvin loved how Ethan tasted, how he smelled, how he felt underneath his touch. He loved the way Ethan’s strong hands caressed his skin.
This was uncharted territory for both of them, and despite knowing everything about each other, Calvin was eager to explore more of this side of Ethan. They’d seen each other naked more times than he could count. They argued and fought but always worked things out. When Ethan pulled back, Calvin missed his breath on him, the feel of his lips, but he smiled at his best friend and cuddled up to him. As long as they were together, they’d make it through anything. Them against the world.
End Street Volume 3 by Amber Kell & RJ Scott
The Case of the Purple Pearl#5
Chapter One
“What are you doing?”
Sam sighed. This was the fifth time today their visiting gargoyle had asked him that. Three weeks had passed since it had decided to stay at the house and wait for Sam to find it a master. And those three weeks had lasted a very long time.
“Taxes,” Sam muttered. The same answer he’d given every single time he’d been asked.
“I don’t like math,” the little gargoyle said. He waddled across Sam’s desk, leaving small muddy footprints on a neatly filled-in form. Sam couldn’t even muster the energy to get angry.
“Are you going to tell me your name yet?” Sam asked. He placed his pen on the desk and leaned back with a stretch, eying the small gargoyle against the hulking monstrosity that sat immobile on the corner of his desk. They were so dissimilar, in size and expression.
“You know I can only tell my master.”
“I can’t keep calling you the little gargoyle. I’m going to have to give you a name.”
The little gargoyle turned in a circle to face Sam, then squatted into a pose with his mouth open in a snarl. It looked pretty mean, and Sam edged back.
“What’s wrong?” he asked.
The gargoyle’s expression changed back to the one he usually had; that of a dopey baby.
“Nothing, I was just giving you my fierce face so you can give me the right name. I’m not having you calling me Sunshine or Cutie. I want something strong like Zephariel Angel of Vengeance.”
Sam couldn’t help the snort of laughter, then immediately felt guilty when the gargoyle’s expression fell. “Sorry,” he apologized. “It’s just, uhm, that name is taken. How about Leo, like a lion, a brave, strong lion.”
The gargoyle tilted his head in contemplation, then nodded. “Leo, I like Leo. I’m done with you now. You already have a gargoyle. I’m going to find my true master.”
That decided, he jumped down off the desk and waddled over to the door, sidestepping awkwardly when Smudge slunk in with intent in every step. In a leap, Smudge was up on the desk, sitting right on the tax forms and staring straight into Sam’s face.
“What are you doing?” Smudge asked telepathically.
“Taxes,” Sam answered. He didn’t add a sigh this time.
“You should be tracking down what kind of other your uncle’s pet gargoyle is.”
Leo, the newly named visiting gargoyle, had declared that the old paperweight on Sam’s desk that looked like a gargoyle, walked like a gargoyle, and was stone like a gargoyle, wasn’t actually a gargoyle at all, but other.
“Where do you suggest I start? And why can’t you tell what it is, oh powerful familiar.” Sam couldn’t help the sarcasm. Smudge was capable of putting souls back in bodies and using heavy magic, but he couldn’t track down what kind of paranormal had been transformed into an ancient crumbling gargoyle paperweight?
“I’ll forget you said that,” Smudge said condescendingly. “I’ve been busy.”
“With what?” Sam asked. Privately he thought Smudge spent too much time cleaning himself with his paws up in the air and his tongue—
“I can hear you,” Smudge warned. “And who else do you think can keep your attic spider infestation at bay?”
Sam shuddered. He didn’t like small spiders at best, let alone the giant ones Smudge had suggested lived only a few floors up. “Good work,” Sam praised. “And as to our paperweight friend here—” Sam tapped the solid stone thing on the head with a stapler. “—I’ve put out a request to everyone I know as to who may be missing someone. I used the ParaGoogle to see if anyone knows anything. Not sure what else I can do at this stage.”
Smudge gave a feline version of a huff, deliberately washed himself on the desk for a good five minutes, then disappeared out of the room. Sam shook off the fur that had fallen on his paperwork. This needed to be done and, unless he finished it soon, he’d have the authorities fining him all over the place.
A knock on his office door jerked Sam from his sad contemplation of the bills he had to pay. Although he’d earned some money recently and he owned the building where he worked and lived, the flow of money going out far exceeded the money rushing into his pockets.
Taxes were a bitch.
“Come in!” he shouted.
Sam lifted an eyebrow at the sight of the dark-haired man entering his office. The strangest part of his visitor was his apparent ordinariness. The man’s eyes didn’t glow with vampire ire, he didn’t growl with pent-up werewolf angst, and his average height and weight could only be explained one way. Human. He must be lost.
“Sorry, I knocked on the front door but no one answered. I hope you don’t mind me letting myself in.” The man indicated the entrance with a vague wave.
“No. Of course not.” Sam would have to learn to either lock his outer door or get an alarm of some kind. The doorbell had stopped working a few days ago, and Sam suspected their water heater might be ready to explode at any moment. Bob swore it would be fine, but it gurgled at Sam the last time he went to the basement to get the laundry. He might have to give in and hire a handyman. Neither he nor Bob were very useful around the house.
“I’m Abbott Williams. I heard you were a detective.” The man held up a flyer as if that explained his presence.
Sam stood to shake hands. “I’m Sam Enderson. Nice to meet you. Yes, I am a detective.” He accepted the yellow paper Abbott handed over. It listed Sam’s detective agency, their location on a little map, and little else. It did have a nice picture of the building, though. “I don’t remember having any flyers printed up.”
Abbott shrugged. “I found it at the bar down the street. Anyway, I need you to follow my boyfriend around. I think he’s cheating on me. Are you interested in the job or not?”
Sam tossed the flyer on his desk to study later. Bob probably made them and forgot to tell Sam about it. “Break up with him. That’s what I did.”
“Some guy cheated on you?” Abbott made it sound as if he couldn’t imagine such a thing happening.
“Yep. But I got over it.” At least that’s what Sam kept telling himself whenever he thought of his ex’s betrayal. Bob usually pulled him out of the bad memories with a blowjob. Worked every time.
The young man’s mouth tightened in annoyance. “I can’t just break up with him.”
“Why not? If you really suspect he’s cheating on you, he probably is.” Sam knew from his own experience that glossing over problems in a relationship didn’t improve the situation. “You’re better off without him.”
“I don’t want to be without him. I love him.”
“If he loved you back he wouldn’t cheat,” Sam said flatly. He’d hate to be the one who had to tell Abbott he’d been right about his boyfriend.
“I can pay,” Abbott insisted. He pulled a wad of cash out of his pocket and tossed it on the desk. “I don’t want you to do anything else. I want to know the truth. Just find out if he’s cheating. After that, I can decide what to do.”
The man’s desperate words struck a chord with Sam. Of course, so did Abbott’s nice crinkly stack of bills. “Have a seat and tell me all about this boyfriend of yours.”
What could it hurt to do a little surveillance? After all, hadn’t Sam gotten into this business to help people? Surely hunting down one human and taking some pictures would be way easier than the other stuff he was always tangled up in. Bob should be happy that Sam finally got a non-supernatural case. At least this time no one would be trying to set him on fire.
Once he’d settled in the chair opposite Sam, Abbott handed over a photo. “This is Greg.”
Sam took the picture Abbott handed over. A dark-haired man with green eyes looked back at him.
“He’s cute.”
“I know,” Abbott said.
“Okay,” Sam began. “I’ll take the case, but the usual proviso is that if I find something you don’t like, the End Street Detective Agency can’t be held responsible.”
Abbott nodded. “I understand.”
Sam pushed across the requisite forms and disclaimers, which Abbott signed. They shook hands, and then Abbott gave some extra details about places and dates and where Sam might find the philandering boyfriend before he left.
Sam counted the money; easily enough to cover the bills for the next two weeks.
A quick, easy job for good money.
Now this was what being a private detective was all about.
The Case of the Guilty Ghost #6
Chapter 1
Sam took the stairs two at a time, all one hundred and sixty of them, to the top of the tower, leaving him gasping for oxygen. He’d seen Bob heading that way, or dreamed it, or half woke and imagined it. He didn’t know what exactly, only that somehow, he knew he would find Bob at the top of the black tower. He ducked the low lintel, slid to an ungainly halt on the stone floor, unbalanced and grabbed at the wall to hold himself upright.
“Bob?” he called into the dark corners of the tower, but there was no reply. His vampire lover didn’t step from the shadows with a smile or words of love. The place was empty, and the only presence Sam sensed was spiders. Knowing his luck, they were man-eating spiders.
“Sam!”
Sam winced at the shout up the stairs, and then heard huffing and cursing as the owner of the deep voice appeared in the doorway. Jin, who had never quite gone home, citing that he was responsible for Sam, was way past pissed. At least Jin, being a dragon shifter, could light up the room. Then Sam recalled he could light up the room just by thinking about it.
“I want there to be light,” he murmured, and then held up his hand to block his eyes as a pure white light exploded in the center of the room, filling every corner before receding back to a steady glowing orb.
He blinked, the light burning his retina. He closed his eyes tight, willing the spotted vision to go.
“What are you doing up here?” Jin asked. He sounded wary, like everyone else tiptoeing around Sam these past two weeks.
“Bob,” Sam said. When he opened his eyes again, he could see the entire room. An elaborate altar took up the far side of the circular chamber, built into the wall and covered in years of dusty cobwebs, likely from the imagined killer spiders. He stepped toward it, a low humming drawing his attention. Jin moved to block his way.
“Leave it, Sam,” Jin said. His hard tone left no room for discussion.
The noise of more footsteps stomping up the stairs, then Lambert, Sam’s vampire liaison, appeared at the top. Lambert, a tall stretched-skinny vampire with eerily cloudy eyes, had a propensity to follow Sam everywhere, spouting fear at everything and anything.
“Sire, you can’t be in here,” Lambert said, waving his hands ineffectively.
Sam spun back around to face the altar. “Stop calling me sire,” he muttered under his breath. He was getting pretty sick of how people treated him in the damn castle. Half the vampires lauded him as a ruler of supernaturals, the other half wanted him either locked up or gone. The first group assigned Lambert to him. They felt Sam needed an escort in the vampire kingdom because he was, in their words, special. Lambert was the kind of paranormal stuck firmly in the past. The historian kept talking about the old days like they were better times.
Sam wasn’t sure why Lambert had been so accepting of him given he was A, human, and B, with Bob.
Jin held up a hand, glowing with the remnants of dragon fire magic and placed it flat on Sam’s chest. It didn’t burn, only fizzled, and popped sending a small shock through his body.
“Sam, talk to me,” Jin demanded.
The humming from the altar intensified, and a voice in Sam’s head was saying the same things over and over, Sam, I am here, and I need your help.
“I can hear Bob in my head, he called me up here,” Sam repeated.
“No, you can’t have heard him,” Lambert corrected. “The mate link is blocked in times of mourning. You are hearing something else, dark magic maybe. You need to come back down to your chamber where you are safe.”
A mixture of exasperation and fear crossed Lambert’s face when Sam stepped back toward the altar.
“I want to see him.” He’d been too long without Bob. Their separation was causing cracks in his sanity.
“It’s not much longer until he’s done,” Jin reassured.
“Please come away, Sam,” Lambert pleaded. That was new. Lambert never called him Sam.
“Just take my hand,” Jin said, holding out his hand.
Sam stepped backward, more toward the altar, and he heard Lambert let out a small curse.
“Take my hand, Sam,” Jin said. “This is stupid and dangerous.”
Sam turned on Jin, sparks flying from his fingers. Jin stepped back from him, narrowly avoiding the biting magic. “Stay away from me.”
He shook his fingers, electricity passing up his arm. Usually when that happened, Bob was there to hold his hands, settle him and take away the pinpricks of pain.
“Come away, Sam,” Jin said.
“Listen to the dragon,” Lambert added, his voice thick with fear.
“You and Jin do what I say,” Sam snapped, not knowing where the superiority in his voice was coming from.
Sam fought his loss of control. So much for me being a higher supernatural. Every day without Bob felt like torture, and Sam was lost without his vampire lover next to him. The headaches, the sparks of energy from his fingers, and the pain in his chest grew more intense with each hour that passed. He knew Bob was in mourning. Hell, Sam respected the traditions, but right then, all he wanted was his lover by his side.
Hurry up, the voice in his head said. I need your help.
He shook off the words and concentrated on Lambert. “Take me to the Sanctum, let me see Bob, convince me he isn’t calling for my help, and I will come with you.” He wasn’t being unreasonable, they were.
“This is an ancient rite.” Lambert seemed stunned that Sam was asking this. “No humans.”
“Something is wrong.” With me? With him? Something is terribly wrong, but no one is listening.
“What is wrong? Is it your head?” Jin asked, his voice low, and his expression concerned.
Yes. No. Hell, I don’t know. I know Bob loves me, and I love him. I just need to kiss him.
Instead, he said, “I have to help Bob with his grieving. We can’t be apart like this.”
Sam didn’t know what made him say it that way; he wasn’t needy, it wasn’t a normal need for lovers to be together. His instincts had been screaming at him that he and Bob shouldn’t be apart.
Ever!
Lambert gasped as he did every time Sam suggested he should be part of any ancient vampire rite. “A non-pureblood cannot help with the rituals of grieving.”
Sam knew Lambert was winding himself up to that whole vampire purity speech and he sighed. Jin must have sensed his irritability because he rounded on Lambert and roared, fire sparking around him. Lambert stumbled back in shock.
“Wait for us outside,” Jin ordered.
Lambert looked torn between staying to keep an eye on Sam, his job, or evading the dragon fire that Jin was breathing all around the room.
Lambert’s eyes narrowed. His calculating gaze flashed from Jin to Sam and back again a few times before he sketched a small bow and left the chamber. “I will go down exactly the seven steps of Aset Ka,” he announced over his shoulder. He was kind of stuck on numbers and more than a little obsessive about the freaking vampire god.
The same god who had made a bargain with Bob’s brother Ettore before returning Bob to Sam, and taking Ettore to some kind of hell, or heaven, or whatever.
“Bob needs me,” Sam said, firmly. “I was asleep and heard him calling me. He must be out of mourning.”
“Sam, you have to stop, he isn’t up here.”
“He must be, he called me.” Maybe if Sam said it enough times one of them would listen.
Jin shook his head. “You heard that through your mate link? In your mind. You can’t have because the link is muted when Bob is mourning.”
Sam shook his head, confused. “No, it was like an image of the stairs, and this room, and there was an altar, only it wasn’t this old. It had gold all over it, a chalice in the center, and Bob was examining it, and he called me over, and there was magic….” Sam pressed his hands against his temples, attempting to ease the tension building from that incessant humming. “He needs me.”
“Sam, it was just a dream. You’re tired. Let’s go get some sleep, and we’ll re-examine this in the morning.” Jin took his arm, encouraged him back to the doorway, but Sam wrenched away and shoved Jin to the side, and with a flick of his hand there was a thick wall of ice between them. Sam stood on the side of the altar, and Jin beat on the ice trying to get through.
Bob needed him, and nothing or no one was stopping him. He’d felt Bob’s grief, through their bond, for four long days and then without warning; the bond was severed. He’d been told that had to happen as part of the rituals of mourning.
Sam was lost. Not even his daughter Mal arriving had helped. At that moment, it didn’t matter that she was the light of his life, he wasn’t whole without Bob. There was no family without Bob.
“Watch Mal,” Sam spoke clearly through the ice, which wasn’t giving way, and Jin snarled at him. “Please.”
“Don’t do anything stupid, Sam! We’ll go down and find Bob.”
But Sam wasn’t doing anything stupid. He was doing what he should have been doing all along, finding Bob and making sure he was okay. Something had happened, someone had come into the castle, stolen Bob from his mourning and only Sam could help. He turned his back on Jin to face the altar. Something there was calling him. Help me, help me.
Bob’s voice? Or was it softer the closer that Sam got to the altar? A whisper of a voice?
He stepped closer, the hum louder, and then another step, and as he neared the low resonating noise stopped, and for a moment he was motionless.
He reached a hand toward the altar, expecting a barrier, or magic, or some booby-trap that would whisk him to killer spider land or some other awful, horrible place.
A crash behind him had him looking back. Jin was nearly through the barrier, melting the ice as fast as he could with his dragon fire; in seconds he would be through. Sam flicked his hand to create another level of ice, but nothing happened.
“Just when I need magic, it isn’t there,” he murmured.
Something inside him began to hurt, an insistent tug at the base of his neck that ran down his spine then back again. The sensation was weird, moving his feet, guiding him, and he had no control over his own body. He was a marionette, and someone else was pulling the strings.
Fear began to spread in the pit of his stomach, Jin screamed his name and the heat of dragon fire warmed his back, but none of it mattered.
Because his hand touched the altar.
And everything went to hell.
Dinner at the Blue Moon Cafe by Rick R Reed
Chapter One
Music from his clock radio woke Thad Matthews at 6:00 a.m. The song, “Smokestack Lightning,” yanked him from a heavy, dream-laden sleep. Its energy forced his eyes open wider, caused synapses, eight hours dormant, to tingle, and made him want to move. Nonetheless, he slapped at the snooze button, silencing the bluesy wail, rolled over, and then pulled the comforter over his head. He was glad he had tuned his clock radio to KPLU, Seattle’s only all-blues all-the-time station, but he desperately wanted to recapture just a few more minutes of his dream, in which he’d found himself on the moors of England. All he could recall was that the moors themselves were appropriately fog shrouded and lit with a silvery luminance from above. Someone waited for him in the shadows and fog. And he couldn’t, for the life of him, know for certain if that someone meant to do him harm or meant to just do him.
He’d been having a lot of sexual dreams lately.
As much as he wanted to unravel the mystery of the dream—and to perhaps savor the vague sexual vibrations he was getting from it—sleep eluded him. He found thoughts of the day crowding in, preventing even the most remote possibility of a recurrence of slumber.
Thad sat up in the four-poster, rubbing his eyes like a little boy, and wondered why he bothered setting an alarm. He had no job to go to, no pressing engagements, no muse to answer to—hell, he didn’t even have an appointment for an oil change.
This day, like all his others, stretched out before him completely unmarred with obligations other than the requirements life imposed upon him, such as eating and going to the bathroom, which the erection poking up under his sheets compelled him to take care of. He called this morning wood a pee-on, because once he had put that particular need to rest, it most often subsided.
After stumbling to the adjoining bathroom and letting go with a flow that caused a mighty sigh of relief to issue forth from him, he thought once again that maybe today should be the day he looked harder into getting himself some employment—anything to put him into contact with other people and to fill his waking hours. Lord knew he filled out enough applications and answered enough Help Wanted ads on Craigslist to keep the officials down at unemployment sending him checks. But all his efforts, dishearteningly, were ignored.
It had been nearly four months since he had been laid off at Perk, the national chain of coffee shops headquartered in suburban Shoreline. Thad had been there for six years, in the marketing department, spending his days writing clever sayings for paper coffee cups and point-of-purchase signs for the stores. It was a tough job, but someone had to do it. And writing phrases like “Plan on Being Spontaneous” paid the bills, even if it didn’t provide much creative or intellectual challenge. It helped sell coffee, and Thad never kidded himself: that’s why he was employed there.
Except now they didn’t need him anymore. Who would write the signs for their special Iced Coffee blend?
He gazed down at the bubbling golden froth in the toilet and flushed it away, along with his thoughts about his former job. He turned and rinsed his hands under the sink, then splashed cold water on his face. Standing up straight, he stared at his reflection in the medicine cabinet mirror.
“You’re too young for a life of leisure,” he said to his reflection, rubbing his hands through his short, coarse red hair, which stuck up in a multitude of directions. People paid good money for products that would make their hair look as fetchingly disheveled as Thad’s did right now. He peered closer at himself, taking inventory of his pale skin, his gray eyes, and the constellation of freckles that spanned his nose and the tops of his cheeks. He flexed, thinking he was looking a little flabby around the middle.
“Workout day. I’ll head over to the gym today. I need it.” He sucked in his gut and let it out again, thinking it was empty and needed refilling. A Pagliacci delivery pizza only went so far. His slumber and active dream life, he supposed, had all but digested the pie.
Thad moved to the bedroom and began tossing pillows on the floor to make up his bed. He wasn’t sure why he bothered with this either, since it was unlikely anyone would see the military-neat bed except for him, when he would approach it once more this evening just to mess it all up again. But it was important to Thad to have a routine. Otherwise his days would blend into one meaningless chunk of time, formless, without definition or purpose.
It was becoming increasingly hard enough to distinguish Tuesday from Thursday—or Sunday, for that matter.
Back when he was putting in forty-plus hours a week, he envied the increasing number of friends and acquaintances who had gotten laid off during the economic downturn. The money they made on unemployment seemed like enough—at least for him and his modest lifestyle in his Green Lake studio apartment—and the freedom they had seemed worth the cut in pay.
But now he wasn’t so sure. The uncertainty of what would happen if he still wasn’t working when the unemployment checks dwindled down to zero hung over him like a vague threat. And the freedom wasn’t really so great, when that same threat prevented him from spending much money, lest he should need it down the road for luxuries like food and a roof over his head.
Worst of all was what the job loss had done to his self-esteem. Thad needed some meaning in his life, a purpose. That much had been instilled in him since he was a little boy, back in Chicago growing up in the working class neighborhood of Bridgeport, where his father was a cop and his mother waited tables at a Lithuanian restaurant.
He pulled on a T-shirt and a pair of sweatpants, padded out to the office area of his apartment, and plopped down in front of his laptop. He planned to check out the classifieds on Craigslist, then Monster, then CareerBuilder. When he was first laid off, he looked only at writing and editing jobs but had lately broadened his search to include, well, just about everything. Thad realized he would work retail, man a customer service phone line, groom dogs, or wait tables, as long as he had a job.
Yet the rest of the world hadn’t gotten wind of his eagerness to accept any kind of employment. Or if they had, they weren’t saying.
Before he went through the often-depressing ritual of cyber pavement pounding, he would check out what had happened in the world since he had stumbled in last night from an evening of self-consolation and vodka on Capitol Hill. He hit the little orange-and-blue Firefox icon on the dock at the bottom of his screen to bring up the day’s online news…
And was jolted right out of whatever sluggishness he was feeling. He stared at the lead article for that day’s Seattle Post-Intelligencer. A chill coursed through him, and he slowly shook his head as he read the details of that morning’s top story, titled “Brutal Slaying in Capitol Hill.” The article described how an as-yet-unidentified young man had been killed in an alley in the Seattle neighborhood known for its heavy concentration of gay bars and clubs. Thad had to stop reading for a moment to close his eyes because the gruesome details were simply too much to bear. His stomach churned. The man had not just been killed but had been literally ripped apart. Very little blood was found at the scene. And forensics had already determined that there was no trace of metal found on the victim’s flesh, which meant that the deed had to have been done with something other than a knife. The worst detail of all was the fact that the remains bore definite signs that much of the man’s flesh had been eaten. Authorities are keeping details to themselves regarding who—or what—the perpetrator could have been. The story closed with the usual cautions about what to do—don’t travel alone, avoid strangers and unlit places—when something so unsettling and violent occurs.
Thad exited Firefox sooner than he had planned and stared out the window. His heart thumped in his chest. Bile splashed at the back of his throat and a cold sweat broke out on his forehead. He had been in Capitol Hill the night before, having a dirty martini or three at Neighbours, one of the gay ghetto’s most popular hangouts. He wondered if, as he had made his way back to the bus stop, he had passed the killer or killers. If perhaps the killer or killers had eyed him, wondering if he would suffice for their demented purposes. He could see himself through their eyes, being watched from the shadows of a vestibule or an alley as he made his way back to the bus stop on Broadway. He wondered if he looked appetizing. He had been told on more than one occasion that he was “tasty” and “delicious,” but those doing the describing were not thinking of him as dinner—at least not in the conventional sense. He wondered if perhaps the only thing that had saved him was the coincidental passing of a boisterous group from the University of Washington, coming up alongside him just as the fiend in the dark was ready to pounce. He shivered. For once, rejection was a comforting thought.
Rejection, under these circumstances, was the new “getting lucky.”
Still, some poor soul had not been as lucky as he had, and today forensics was probably busy trying to figure out just who this unfortunate soul was. From what Thad had read, it didn’t sound like they had much to go on. Dental records, maybe? What kind of animal would not only kill a fellow human being but also eat his flesh and drink his blood? Was this a human being at all? Thad had heard of bears occasionally making their misguided ways down from the mountains and into Seattle, but they usually got no farther than suburban parks and backyards. And the “bears” that routinely cruised the Capitol Hill neighborhood were of a much more cuddly variety.
Surely, though, an animal couldn’t have been roaming around busy Capitol Hill on Friday night. The neighborhood, on weekend nights, was a blur of barhoppers and partiers, its hilly streets filled with people and cars jockeying for position. Loud and well lit, it was the kind of neighborhood that would scare the shit out of an animal, at least an animal with normal fears and inclinations. This had to be the work of a person, or people, right? And whoever was behind such a thing had to be majorly warped. Thad had a quick vision of pale-gray eyes and enormous canine teeth until he banished the imagery to the back of his brain, grateful for another kind of canine distraction.
That distraction had just sidled up beside Thad, her arrival signaled by a clicking of toenails on hardwood. Thad glanced down at his gray-and-white Chihuahua, Edith, staring up at him with her dark eyes. Her tongue stuck out one side of her mouth, giving her a both comical and wizened appearance. The dog was about a hundred years old, and Thad thought, for better or worse, she was his very best friend in the world. Edith got up on her hind legs to paw at Thad’s lap, indicating to him that he was not the only creature in the house that had to pee first thing in the morning.
Thad got up and, with Edith following impatiently behind, slid into flip-flops and grabbed her leash. “C’mon, sweetheart, let’s take a little walk down to the lake, and then we’ll see about getting us both some breakfast.”
******
Saturday passed much as Monday had, and Tuesday, and Wednesday, and so on. In other words, Thad cleaned his studio apartment that didn’t need cleaning; updated his Facebook status five times and his Twitter status three—stealing quotes from Lily Tomlin and Kathy Griffin to make himself sound more witty than he was; searched on Facebook for several hours for old friends, relatives, classmates, and boyfriends; made tuna salad for lunch—half the can of Chicken of the Sea went to Edith, who seduced him out of it with her eyes—and streamed three episodes of True Blood on his laptop.
By six o’clock Thad was staring out the window and thinking about counting his freckles, just for something to do. Perhaps he could shave the hair between his eyebrows? Do another online crossword? Google himself again?
“I gotta get out of here, money or no money.” He glanced down at Edith, who was lying at the opposite end of the couch. She looked up at him as if she understood and then glanced over at the door.
“That’s right, sweetheart. Daddy needs to get out…at least for a little dinner.” Thad had just gotten a flyer in the mail the day before, describing a new place that had opened on Green Lake Way called the Blue Moon Café. He had gone by it several times during his runs around the lake and watched as the restaurant had slowly come together: one day kitchen equipment was delivered, another it was dark-cherry tables and chairs, still another a shipment of beer and wine. Yet he had no idea, really, what kind of cuisine they’d serve.
But one thing Thad had loved about the Green Lake neighborhood when he moved in was its abundance of stores, restaurants, pubs, and cafés within walking distance. Thad had never owned a car and didn’t want one. So he liked to support the businesses there, even though many of them were more geared toward families and couples than the livelier—and gayer—Capitol Hill neighborhood, ten or fifteen minutes away depending on traffic.
After serving Edith her dinner of Thad’s own special blend of brown rice, chicken, and peas and carrots, Thad hit the shower. He took a long time under the hot spray, washing and conditioning his hair, soaping every orifice, and shaving the hair on his balls and adjacent to his penis, revealing his manhood in its most flattering light. Even in Green Lake and even on an outing for a quiet meal, one never knew whom one would meet. Besides, Thad had all the time in the world.
Don’t remind me, he thought, sliding his head under the shower to rinse the conditioner from his ginger hair.
He dressed in a pair of black jeans, combat boots, and a vintage Cockney Rejects T-shirt he’d found a couple of weeks ago at Value Village. He worked a dollop of hair wax through his hair, making it stand on end fetchingly and giving him that just-out-of-bed look. Although he hadn’t made it to the gym that day, the black made him look thinner and made his shoulders, naturally broad, stand out. The thin cotton fabric also clung alluringly to his pecs.
He thought briefly that he should head to Capitol Hill instead, or even the University District just east of him, but Thad was the kind of guy who, once he had made a plan, stuck to it.
He took Edith out for a quick bathroom break, kissed the top of her head, and set off for the Blue Moon Café. His step was light, and he’d set his status on Facebook to “optimistic.”
Who knew what the night would bring?
Kari Gregg lives in the mountains of Wild and Wonderful West Virginia with her Wonderful husband and three very Wild children. When Kari’s not writing, she enjoys reading, coffee, zombie flicks, coffee, naked mud-wrestling (not really), and . . . coffee!
Davidson King, always had a hope that someday her daydreams would become real-life stories. As a child, you would often find her in her own world, thinking up the most insane situations. It may have taken her awhile, but she made her dream come true with her first published work, Snow Falling.
She managed to wrangle herself a husband who matched her crazy and they hatched three wonderful children.
If you were to ask her what gave her the courage to finally publish, she’d tell you it was her amazing family and friends. Support is vital in all things and when you’re afraid of your dreams, it will be your cheering section that will lift you up.
Charlie Cochet is the international bestselling author of the THIRDS series. Born in Cuba and raised in the US, Charlie enjoys the best of both worlds, from her daily Cuban latte to her passion for classic rock.
Currently residing in Central Florida, Charlie is at the beck and call of a rascally Doxiepoo bent on world domination. When she isn’t writing, she can usually be found devouring a book, releasing her creativity through art, or binge watching a new TV series. She runs on coffee, thrives on music, and loves to hear from readers.
Join Charlie's newsletter and stay up to date with Charlie's latest releases, receive exclusive content, giveaways, and more!
Amber KellAmber Kell has made a career out of daydreaming. It has been a lifelong habit she practices diligently as shown by her complete lack of focus on anything not related to her fantasy world building.
Despite her husband's insistence she doesn't drink enough to be a true literary genius, she continues to spin stories of people falling happily in love and staying that way.
She is thwarted during the day by a traffic jam of cats on the stairway and a puppy who insists on walks, but she bravely perseveres.
RJ ScottWriting love stories with a happy ever after – cowboys, heroes, family, hockey, single dads, bodyguards
USA Today bestselling author RJ Scott has written over one hundred romance books. Emotional stories of complicated characters, cowboys, single dads, hockey players, millionaires, princes, bodyguards, Navy SEALs, soldiers, doctors, paramedics, firefighters, cops, and the men who get mixed up in their lives, always with a happy ever after.
She lives just outside London and spends every waking minute she isn’t with family either reading or writing. The last time she had a week’s break from writing, she didn’t like it one little bit, and she has yet to meet a box of chocolates she couldn’t defeat.
Rick R. Reed is an award-winning and bestselling author of more than fifty works of published fiction. He is a Lambda Literary Award finalist. Entertainment Weekly has described his work as “heartrending and sensitive.” Lambda Literary has called him: “A writer that doesn’t disappoint…”
Kari Gregg
EMAIL: kari@karigregg.com
Davidson King
EMAIL: davidsonkingauthor@yahoo.com
Charlie Cochet
EMAIL: charlie@charliecochet.com
Amber Kell
GOOGLE PLAY / iTUNES / KOBO
EMAIL: amberkellwrites@gmail.com
RJ Scott
BOOKBUB / KOBO / SMASHWORDS
EMAIL: rj@rjscott.co.uk
Pretty Poison by Kari Gregg
Catch a Tiger by the Tail by Charlie Cochet
End Street Volume 3 by Amber Kell & RJ Scott
B&N / KOBO / SMASHWORDS
No comments:
Post a Comment