by Bella Night
Derik showed up at Grey’s front door the day after Reeve’s funeral. “I’m owed a life,” he’d said. “I don’t care if it’s yours or your younger brother’s, but one of you will repay the life debt Reeve swore to me.”
The choice had been instant. There was no way Grey was going to let his younger brother, Ethan, get dragged into this. He was only fifteen—way too young to see the horrors Grey had experienced on the hunt.
The hunt only happened once a year during the hunter’s moon. His shifter ancestors had created the hunt long ago in retaliation against the humans for slaughtering wolves to the near brink of extinction. Originally, only those who had harmed wolves, shifters or their offspring were targeted by the hunt. But over time the lines began to blur and the gray area bled until there were no rules at all. No one was safe from the hunt. All humans were deemed to be a threat.
With the hunt open to interpretation, it quickly got out of hand and eventually became outlawed in the shifter community. But there still remained a few zealot shifters who felt entitled to continue the right as retribution for the sins of the past. Derik was one of them. He claimed the four-week lunar cycle as open season on humans, saying it didn’t even come close to leveling the playing fields.
The hunt held its own appeal for some. Members, once sworn in with a blood oath, were part of the pack for life. The benefits were increased strength, speed, stamina, senses and supernatural powers like telepathy. Each of these perks were heightened with every kill. Then there was the money. The hunt’s history ran deep. The only thing deeper were their coffers. Being part of the secret shifter society virtually gave Grey access to anything he could ever want.
Sadly, none of it appealed to him. But the lure had certainly hooked his brother.
Grey sighed deeply. Sometimes he still couldn’t believe he’d gotten wrapped up in this life. Just a few months ago he’d never even heard of Derik Weyland and the hunt. Grey flexed his muscles, letting the stress ripple down his spine. He hated the devious path he now walked, but he knew he’d made the right choice. It was the only way to protect his family.
Grey came from a long line of shifters. But his mother fought to keep him and his brothers from that life after rogues killed their father. Things were going fine until Reeve met Derik. That’s when everything got complicated. Grey hated the person Derik had turned Reeve into—an arrogant, selfish prick. And Grey would be damned if he let that happen to himself, or his younger brother. Taking these quick reprieves to get fresh air and look up at the stars reminded Grey of home, who he was, and what he was protecting.
It was true that long ago their wolf ancestors had been hunted to near extinction. But shifters had worked hard to rebuild a positive relationship with each other and humans. They had established agreements to live peacefully within their own societies. If anything, Grey had grown up learning that he was to protect humans.
His mother said he and his brothers were blessed with strength, speed and animalistic intuition, and such gifts were not to be abused. She made them promise if they wanted to embrace their gifts and join the shifter community, that they would do it honorably.
Shame speared Grey. Look at him now. There wasn’t an ounce of honor left.
3
Etti
Etti busied herself getting the shop open for business.
Music blaring—check!
Register open—check!
Neon signs on—check!
Door unlocked—check!
Check, check, check. Etti went down her list of tasks. She was polishing the black leather of the new parlor-style tattoo chair when another one of her artists strolled in.
“Hey, Marc,” Etti called as she moved to the next chair.
“Sup,” Marc mumbled.
“What’s up, buttercup?” Wes called to Marc with a grin.
Marc ignored him as usual.
Wes was constantly trying to get under Marc’s skin. Marc was the quiet, brooding type, but that didn’t bother Etti. He was always punctual and one hell of a tattoo artist—basically her only two requirements for working at the Painted Wolf.
It was quite comical at times how different Wes and Marc were. Marc had a quiet demeanor, modest attitude and slight frame. Etti sometimes envied his pale skin tone and moon-white hair. The vibrant colors of his tattoos seemed to glow in contrast to his milky complexion.
Wes, however, was the complete opposite. He was tall, dark and handsome—and he knew it. Etti was much like him in looks. They shared the same Native American heritage—rich brown skin, tall frame, dark eyes and black hair. They were two sides of the same coin—often mistaken for siblings. But Wes always outshined Etti and she was happy to let him.
His swagger drew in more female clients than he knew what to do with, shifter and human alike. They ate up his compliments and extra attention. Etti put up with the giggling and flirting because of all the business Wes brought in. Plus, truth be told, she had a soft spot for him. He’d flirted with her since she grew boobs—an asset he said she didn’t flaunt enough—but she had never crossed that line with him. Half to spite the fact that her parents thought he was perfect and she was positive her mother was secretly arranging their marriage, and half because Wes’s reputation in the bedroom scared Etti shitless.
He’d come a long way from the boy who kissed her on the playground and Etti wasn’t ready to go there with him again. Wes had given Etti plenty of opportunities over the years, but she knew if she started something with him there would be no going back.
Plus, there was the fact that Wes had been with so many women even he had lost count. Etti had once walked in on him giving a customer more than the tip of his tattoo needle. The woman had been moaning so loudly Etti went in to see what the hell kind of tattoo Wes was working on. When she’d burst in on the woman in the throes of an orgasm, Etti’s face had turned tomato red and she’d hit the wall twice before being able to find her way out the door.
After that embarrassing fiasco, Etti demanded that Wes take the booth in the back of the tattoo shop because it had a glass window in the door. That way she could keep an eye on him and prevent that from ever happening again.
Wes still loved to tease Etti about catching him ‘getting work done’. Saying things like, “Jeez you’d think you’ve never seen a cock before, Etti.”
She had, of course. But not nearly as often as the women who frequented Wes for tattoos apparently.
Etti had only been with two men in her pitiful twenty-six years—her high school crush and a drunken one-night stand. She was practically a virgin compared to Wes. Each day when he came in bragging about his latest fling, in way too much detail, Etti felt her cheeks burn. Half the time she found herself having to look up the words Wes spouted on Urban Dictionary. To deflect her embarrassment, and tiny bit of jealously, Etti went to her favorite weapon—sarcasm.
The only time Marc ever chimed in on the shop conversations was when they turned to abusing Wes’s manwhoring ways. Marc was all too happy to sling insults at Wes. Though Marc was the complete opposite of Wes in every way, he could hurl insults just as well, if not better.
Today was no exception. Wes had just finished talking about the two women he’d brought home from the nearby strip club called Alley Cat’s when the name-calling began.
“Two women. Wow that’s truly something special,” Marc commented.
“Come on, what you got for me today, Marky-Marc?”
“Nuthin. Honestly, you’ve finally stumped me. Just like you’ve done to that poor nub you call a cock.”
A smug grin lit up Wes’s face as he leaned back on the black leather couch in the lobby and laced his fingers behind his head. “Can’t stop picturing me between two lovely ladies, can ya?”
“Oh please. I wouldn’t touch that whoreo cookie if my life depended on it.”
Etti burst out laughing as she plopped herself down in her chair behind the counter. She pulled out her sketchpad still smirking. “Whoreo. That’s a new one.”
Marc shrugged with amusement. “He makes it too easy, just like him.”
“Okay you two, play nice,” Etti said glancing at the clock. Hopefully they’d be expecting costumers any minute. “What’s on the schedule for today?”
“I have back-to-backs with the Rodriguez twins starting in twenty minutes,” Wes said with a grin as he waggled his eyebrows.
Etti sat up straight. “Wes! I’ve told you I don’t like back-to-backs.”
“That’s what she said,” he joked.
Etti sighed. “Seriously, Wes. They take up too much of your day.”
“Nah, Wes is all about quantity, not quality,” Marc joked.
Wes gave a devious grin, “That’s right! Wham-bam-thank-you-ma’am.”
Etti shook her head and pulled up the schedule for the rest of the day on her laptop. Besides Wes’s twins, the day was wide open. Not good. Nothing was filming in town and business had been slow. And with the new outbreak of ‘animal attacks’ it was getting even slower. Etti glanced at the clock again and let out a huff realizing her newest employee was late—again.
She reached for her phone and Wes grabbed it. “Oh, uh, I was supposed to tell you Rose said she’d be late today.”
Etti glared at him. “Stop covering for her, Wes.”
“It’s not like we need her right now. No one’s beating the door down.”
“Exactly. She’s been dead weight for months. She hasn’t brought in any of the clients she promised and with business like this I can’t afford to keep her on.”
“It’ll pick up!” Wes argued.
“Even if it does, I don’t need someone I can’t count on to be here on time.”
Wes continued to plead. “What if I talk to her?”
“No, Wes. It’s my shop. If anyone is talking to her it’ll be me.”
“But she’s so pretty. And I haven’t had sex with her yet,” Marc mocked, impersonating Wes’s voice perfectly.
“Shut up, Marc,” Wes grumbled.
Etti rolled her eyes and stretched out her long legs on her desk. She was wearing her favorite clunky steel-toed boots that said GAME OVER on the soles. She put her hand out patiently waiting for Wes to return her phone. He dropped it and stomped to his booth. Etti dialed a number and gritted her teeth when she heard the sing-songy voicemail pick up.
“If Rose doesn’t grace us with her presence today I’m telling her to clear out her space,” Etti called to Wes, but he was defiantly ignoring her.
4
Greyson
The sound of glass smashing from inside the bar reached Grey’s elevated wolf hearing. He shot down to the bar wholly expecting to have to break up a fight and save some drunk’s sorry ass from Derik and his pack of rogues. What he was not prepared for was a feisty girl with cherry red hair to be going shot-for-shot with Derik.
The rest of the pack was going wild. Jake, Jaxon, Kellan and Peter were cheering like crazy as the petite girl, covered from head-to-toe with tattoos, schooled Derik in whatever drinking game they were playing. She slammed a glass onto the bar and gave a flamboyant bow. Derik swatted her glass off the booze soaked bar and it smashed on the floor. Grey held his breath waiting for Derik to retaliate. He hated losing, especially to pretty girls. And despite thinking she’d won, in about ten minutes when all the alcohol hit her, Derik would still be sober. Shifters didn’t get drunk. At least not like humans did—something Grey found out the hard way after draining a whole bottle of whiskey trying to deaden his guilt after his first kill with the hunt.
“Pay up, furball,” the flippant girl ordered.
So she knew they were shifters?
Derik smirked and threw some cash on the bar. “How about another round?”
The girl giggled. “You wish, handsome. But I’ve gotta get to work.”
“Awe, c’mon. The party was just getting started,” he purred, dragging a finger along her snow-white jaw to her pouty, red lips.
Grey swallowed hard, waiting for Derik to unleash his skin-shredding nails. But he didn’t. Instead, the girl bit his finger and smiled wickedly. “You could always bring the party to work with me?” she offered.
Grey’s heart thundered. Bad idea chick!
“I like the way you think.” Derik drawled, playing with a strand of her red hair. “Where do you work?”
“The Painted Wolf Tattoo Parlor. It’s just off the square. Close enough to walk.”
5
Etti
Wes’s off key singing and boisterous laughter drifted from his stall as he worked on the twins. Etti sat behind her desk working on some of her own designs in her sketch book while Marc continued painting his vivid mural of pinup girls on the bright turquoise walls of the lobby. They’d each fallen into their comfortable routine. ‘Just another day in my strange misfit paradise,’ Etti thought as she hummed along with the music blaring through the shop’s speakers.
When Sweet Jane queued up on her playlist, Etti couldn’t resist singing along. The Painted Wolf was her happy place—the only place she was allowed to be herself and not apologize for it. She loved that it was hers. She made the rules here—not her overbearing parents. She got to be a different person at the Painted Wolf compared to the person her parents forced her to be on the farm. She was confident here. She laughed and joked with her friends and clients. She had time to focus on her art. Etti felt alive and she loved every minute of it.
The chime of the front door pulled Etti from her bliss. She looked up to see a wave of bright red hair flouncing in—Rose. Etti was on her feet, her blood boiling the instant she saw the careless redhead stroll in. She was two hours late! Etti was about to stop her right at the door and tell her not to bother clocking in today or any other day, but the six rowdy shifters behind Rose made Etti hold her tongue.
“Pick your poison, boys,” Rose called over her shoulder as she strutted through the lobby throwing Etti a wink.
6
Greyson
Grey was the last to file into the shop. His nerves were singing. It wasn’t that he was opposed to tattoos. On the contrary, he had more than his fair share. Since joining the hunt, tattoos had sort have become his obsession. He’d gotten one in each town they visited. One for each kill—a reminder of what he’d done and the penance he’d make himself atone for later. No, it wasn’t the ink that had Grey on edge, it was the threat of danger that now flowed into the small unsuspecting tattoo parlor like a wave of death behind the oblivious redhead.
Her name was Rose—she’d introduced herself as they walked. Grey instantly disliked her. His wolf picked up an unpleasant scent from her. She was full of her own sort of danger. He’d met girls like her before. They were the kind his brother, Reeve, always attracted. The kind that thought they liked the thrill of a bad boy shifter until things went too far. And things always went too far. That was the nature of the wolf that lived in each of them—a constant warring of humanity and beast.
Derik helped Rose slip out of her tight leather jacket, revealing a low-cut black corset that left little to the imagination. He watched Derik follow Rose’s sashaying hips as she led him into her booth. Derik was practically licking his lips. This was not good. How the hell was Grey going to stop Derik from tearing the girl apart?
Could he even stop him?
Derik was an Alpha, the strongest of their pack. If Grey turned on him, the rest of the pack would finish him off if Derik didn’t do the job first.
‘Maybe that wouldn’t be so bad,’ Grey thought, hating his role in the hunt. But then he thought of his little brother and regained his focus. He looked up just in time to see Rose close the vertical blinds of the large plate glass window in her booth that looked out to the street. She bent over coyly, nearly spilling out of her top. Derik growled, slamming the door to her booth closed, all but sealing her fate.
Grey paced the lobby. Jake had gone back to a booth with a nearly white-haired artist after Derik disappeared with Rose. That left Grey and the three other shifters to anxiously prowl the
too-small turquoise lobby. The scent of their anticipation for another kill was growing so strong Grey could taste it. His attention snapped to the sassy, dark-haired girl behind the counter. She held her own against Peter’s sexual advances, fending each one off with a witty remark. Grey hadn’t heard what Peter said to her, but the word ‘mutt’ came out of her mouth with venom. Peter growled and Grey was between them in a flash, grabbing the girl’s slender wrist and pulling her behind him.
“Dibs,” Grey growled, showing Peter his sharp canines.
Peter took a menacing step toward Grey just as the chime of the front door broke the tension. Two curvy blonde women walked in, their eyes wide as they took in the lobby full of muscular men.
The girl in Grey’s grasp jerked her wrist from his. “Thanks, but I don’t belong to anyone,” she hissed. Then she marched calmly over to the women and cleared her throat. “I’m sorry, ladies, we’re fully booked today,” she said, ushering them toward the door and out of danger.
Good, Grey thought. Smart girl.
“Give us a call tomorrow,” the dark-haired girl said, practically shoving the blondes out the door.
“But, Wes told us he could fit us in today,” one of them whined.
“Yeah, together,” the other added, causing them both to giggle nervously.
Grey could scent their arousal. Christ! How stupid could some humans be?
“I’ll let him know you stopped by,” the dark-haired girl replied. “I’m sure he’ll be happy to see you both tomorrow.”
“Is he here?” one of them asked. “We’d be happy to wait,” she said, gazing into the lobby at the shifters with lust.