by Holly Evans
I heard the soft tremor there.
Taking a long slow breath, I calmed myself and stepped outside into the main office area. All eyes were on me. I ignored them and leaned back against the wall of Sean’s office with one foot propped up behind me and my arms crossed. I was going to take some time off to eat good food and head out into the countryside to run. It had been over a month since I’d shifted and run. Order guidelines stated we were supposed to run at least once a month; if anyone knew, they’d send me a sternly worded letter.
The conversations bubbled back up around me in harsh whispers. I felt their sharp glances in my direction. The made wolf wasn’t to be trusted. I was just as unstable as the rest of them. Fools, the lot of them. I ground my teeth and calmed myself as I pushed the wolf deeper inside. The thoughts weren’t entirely my own. I just needed to run and give the wolf some room.
Sean called me back into his office and handed me a thick envelope along with two payslips. I opened the envelope and counted out the notes twice, to be absolutely sure he hadn’t screwed me over.
“Don’t you trust me, Niko?” he sneered.
“Not as far as I can throw you.”
He snorted and leaned back in his chair, a show of relaxation and confidence. The fear hadn’t left his eyes.
“I’m taking a week off. Don’t contact me during that time,” I said as I put the envelope in the inside pocket of my jacket.
“Can’t do that. You’re meeting someone on Thursday.”
Two days from now. I curled my lip and stared him down.
“Be here at 10am. No excuses. Now fuck off.”
I had to give it to him, he almost sounded like he wasn’t scared shitless.
A meeting like that had to be with a superior. Maybe I was getting the transfer I so desperately wanted, after all. I allowed myself a small smile as I headed back out to my bike. Time to head home, grab my backpack, and stock up on food before I tried to chew someone’s arm off.
My mood was considerably improved once I’d devoured my second pizza. I’d picked up a couple of the good pizzas from a pizzeria. I was making the most of my money. The sun was beginning to set, my stomach was full for the first time in over a week, and I had a nice new leather jacket. The lycan had torn my old one, and that was the closest I was ever going to get to armour. The gods knew I needed something to help me take down the beings I dealt with.
The apartment started to feel claustrophobic once the shadows started to grow. It was a little bland box that the Order had provided. During the few daylight hours that I was there, the off-white walls and pale grey industrial carpet didn’t really bother me. It was somewhere safe to sleep and watch movies when I needed distraction from the nightmares. As the shadows crept up the walls, it felt like the space was slowly imploding around me. Time to head out to a bar, a good bar for a change. I deserved to go to somewhere that had beer that was drinkable and served at the correct temperature.
Eight
I’d claimed a barstool near the end of the bar in my favourite higher-end bar. Lyall, the pretty blond barman I’d met the first night I was in Dublin, was working. He handed me a Guinness and refused to take payment for it.
“I owe you a drink after last time,” he said with a smile.
It took me a minute to remember what he was talking about, then it came back to me. Last time I’d seen him, we’d tried to take a pair of elves back to his place, only for them to figure out I was made and drop me in the middle of the city in the rain. Lyall took them both home and sent me an apologetic text in the morning. I’d shrugged it off. Such was the way of things. If I let every slight get to me, I’d have turned wolf and stayed that way years ago.
The bar was quieter than I’d expected and full of rich supernals. There was a peace to that, a gentle energy about the place that washed away the stress and darkness of the past couple of weeks. I breathed deep and allowed the sensation to wash over me.
“How’s business been?” Lyall asked.
He was the product of a pixie and sidhe pairing. As a mongrel, no one had wanted him, and he had very little in the way of magic so he was pushed out of supernal society the way I was. He knew I was an enforcer and gave me someone to vent to, as he didn’t give a fuck about my being made.
“Shit. Sean refused to pay me for ages, he’s still trying to push me out. I almost snapped at him earlier. Apparently, I have some important meeting on Thursday,” I said, curling my lip.
The Guinness had been perfectly poured and was a welcome reprieve. Lyall’s eyes lit up as he cleaned a glass and waited for me to say more.
I shrugged. “I’m assuming it’s with an Order superior; hopefully, I’ll finally be transferred.”
Lyall wrinkled his nose. “And who would I get my gossip from then?”
I laughed.
“I’m sure you’d convince someone to hand over all the news.”
He went rigid and looked at the doorway. The entire bar stilled and went quiet. I turned, expecting to find another feral lycan or something equally as fearsome. It was a beautiful man in a ridiculously expensive pitch-black suit that had been tailored to show off his broad swimmer’s build exquisitely. He didn’t look much taller than me, but his presence was striking.
“Your tongue’s hanging out,” Lyall whispered.
I looked away, not before I saw him stride into the room like he owned the place. His movement was powerful, graceful, predatory. I’d never believed in love at first sight before, but he could definitely change my mind.
Turning back to get another look at him, I almost choked on my Guinness. I felt his wolf, a dire wolf to be exact. That wasn’t the problem. No, the tattoos on his hands were the problem. Delicate, elegant sigils in pure white and black trailed along the backs of his hands. I knew they would spiral up his arms and trail under his collarbone and across the top of his shoulders.
“Holy fuck, he’s a Guardian,” I whispered to Lyall.
The Guardian’s pale silver eyes turned to meet mine. A small smirk sat on his soft pink lips. I casually stood and walked around the bar, where Lyall opened the door out to the back for me. There was no way I was sticking around with a Guardian on the premises. If he’d have been after me, I’d likely already have had a blade to my throat, but I wasn’t going to test that theory. I stepped out into the cold, damp night and jogged along the alley, trying to put distance between me and the bar as quickly as possible.
Where enforcers work for the Order, the Guardians are hand-picked by the gods themselves. The sigils marked him as chosen by the lunar goddess, which was perfectly reasonable for a shifter. My stomach had soured, and my heart was racing. Guardians worked with the priests and priestesses of their god and did their work here on the mortal plane. Where enforcers dealt with irritations such as thieving pixies and witches that tried to use too many humans in their rituals, the Guardians handled the bigger problems. I’d never met anyone that knew exactly what they did, but I knew that seeing one was a big problem.
I’d learnt early on that it was best to pick and choose my fights very carefully. That beautiful man had the goddess on his side, and that was not a fight I’d win.
Nine
I’d forgotten one key thing when I slipped out of the back of the bar. My motorbike. There was no way on Earth I was leaving my motorbike there overnight, which meant I had to head back. I rolled my shoulders, fixed a confident smile on my face, and walked down the main road towards the bar. The streetlights flickered overhead, and my ears pricked as I noticed it was very quiet. It was a weekday, but there would always be revellers around shouting, singing, and so on. I slowed my pace and looked around for a potential problem. Nothing seemed to be out of place. A stray piece of trash rustled down the path, having been caught in the gentle breeze.
The noise came back with a faint pop and a heavy rain that sent water trickling down the back of my neck and coated my eyelashes, making seeing clearly difficult. I thrust my hands into the pockets of my jeans and walked back
to my bike. Riding home in that was going to be unpleasant. The car drivers wouldn’t be paying attention or looking out for bikes. What was supposed to be a celebratory night out was turning miserable. I consoled myself by looking forward to a night out in a quiet cottage where I could finally shift. My skin and muscles were beginning to itch with the need to take on my wolf form.
I was almost at my bike when I felt someone’s gaze drilling into my back. Putting my shoulders back and lifting my chin, I prepared to stare down some drunk looking for a fight. My glare was met by pale silver eyes dancing with amusement. Even in the pouring rain, the Guardian was a vision. His dark hair clung to the edges of his face and highlighted his razor-sharp cheekbones. His suit clung that little bit tighter for being damp, and it showed off his muscular form spectacularly. I growled at myself. He was the embodiment of trouble.
The rain eased once I pulled out onto the road and began the drive home. I swore I could feel the Guardian’s eyes following me down the road. The last thing I needed was to catch the attention of a Guardian, even if he was sinfully gorgeous.
By some miracle, the rain had eased further overnight, making the ride out to the cottage somewhat pleasant. I pushed my bike around the familiar bends and broke every speed limit once I was out of the urban areas. The closer I got to the woods, the tighter my muscles got. My wolf was eager to be free.
The first time the itchy need to shift had taken hold, I’d had no idea what was going on. I had paced around the small room that acted as my living space and bedroom. The need to do something ate at me, I just didn’t know what it was. Nothing would settle my mind, slowly the need took over until the shift finally took hold. Thank the gods I’d been raised by witches, so I was familiar with shifters and didn’t panic. Still, the first time my body broke and remoulded itself into the powerful wolf form was exhilarating and terrifying. What if I became stuck that way?
The cottage came into view, and I relaxed some. It wouldn’t be too far from sunset when I’d head into the woods and shift. I didn’t like running during the daylight, although at a push I could pass for a German Shepherd mix or one of those Northern Inuits they use for wolves on the tv shows. If someone saw me, they’d still ask questions that I couldn’t answer, though, such as who my owners were and where they were. I’d heard rumour of some shifter packs having a person who remained in human form and acted as the pack’s owner should they get caught out running. I had no one to fill such a role.
A quick walk around the perimeter of the property confirmed that no one had been snooping around. I’d learnt early on that it was best to be paranoid. The cottage itself was a small two-story affair with off-white walls and small traditional windows. It was simple and suited me just fine. I only needed a bed and a kitchenette. I could hunt, but I usually chose not to. Even when I was in my wolf form, I didn’t allow the instincts to slip entirely into place. I was scared of losing myself.
Throwing my backpack on the small sofa, I toed off my boots and collapsed into the armchair, where I turned on the tv and waited for the sunset. Time seemed to crawl by as I flipped through the channels, not really seeing or hearing what was in front of me. My mind kept flitting to the memory of the Guardian with those pale silver eyes. He had an intensity to him that I wanted to revel in and see how deep it ran. I growled at myself and changed the channel again. He was nothing but trouble. I couldn’t afford to get anywhere near him. Slowly, the light faded and took on a red hue. Once the sun had dipped, putting the area firmly in dusk, I stripped down to my boxers, stepped out onto the scrubby grass behind the cottage, and allowed the shift to take me.
Ten
The familiar pain washed over me, and it was blissful. I wasn’t normally a masochist, but that particular pain meant freedom. The moment I had my paws under me, I took off into the forest and embraced the feeling of the soft cool earth beneath me, the scents of damp forest all around, and my muscles in the arrangement they belonged in. I wasn’t meant to be on two legs, not for as long as I had been.
Before I knew it, I’d left the woods and begun running up the mountain trail. The landscape was stark and rocky, with hardy grasses and stubby plants stubbornly covering the ground as the mountains rose up on either side of me. I pushed myself harder, feeling the exhilarating burn of my muscles as I ran purely for the pleasure of running. Finally, I reached the peak of the trail and paused to take in the view. Ireland stretched out before me under the inky sky. Bright lights studded the ground where pockets of civilisation had formed. Maybe I shouldn’t shift back, after all.
I sat and drank in the details, the soft sweeping lines of the fields and jagged outcrops of the mountains as they fell away beneath me. The image of the Guardian slipped into my mind and drove away whatever faint notion I’d had to give up what human life I had. With a growl, I took off back towards the cottage. My human life was far from ideal, it was unsatisfying and frustrating, but being a wolf would end with misery. There was only so long that I’d be able to hunt without being seen, there were too many people around. Even if a normal human didn’t find me, a supernal would and they’d report me to the Order. Turned shifters were seen as too dangerous and were put down.
The pain of the shift lacked the exhilarating bliss when it pushed me back into my human form. I headed back into the cottage with a bitter taste in my mouth and a sense of frustration at life itself. Sandwiches served as dinner while I stared, unseeing, at the tv. A single night was never enough. I needed a good week in a true forest where I could run without fear. Germany had given me that. Maybe the meeting would allow me to move back to the Continent where I’d have some more freedom. I smiled and curled up in the armchair with the peaceful thought of running free again.
I had woken with a mixed feeling of excitement and dread at the meeting I had to attend. It was unusual for an enforcer to be dragged into a meeting, but I couldn’t help fostering a sliver of hope that it meant I was being reassigned somewhere better. My Order-assigned flat was cramped and barely more than a box. If I could return to mainland Europe, then I might be able to get a nice cabin or cottage somewhere quiet where I could run regularly. The thought brought a grin to my face.
The ride over to the Order offices wasn’t too bad. I only had one moron try and run me off the road when he didn’t look in his mirrors. Car drivers were assholes to motorbike riders. Given I didn’t expect the meeting to last all that long and I still had a lot of energy to burn off, I’d pulled on my bike leathers with plans of spending the rest of the day riding around the countryside. If they wanted me to make myself pretty, they should have said so.
The car park was packed with the usual enforcer cars and a very expensive black muscle car. I couldn’t help myself. I paused and admired the sleek lines. I bet it sounded beautiful. The engine must have had hundreds of horsepower. Maybe I’d be able to justify something like that someday. Something with a deep, throaty growling engine that had a sub-six-second naught to sixty. I shook my head and walked into the office. It was nice to dream.
The main office area went silent the moment I walked in. A distinct air of doom hung over the place. All eyes were on me as I walked to Sean’s office. My hopes at being transferred to somewhere with more freedom crashed and burned.
“Conall, get your scrawny ass in here! You’re ten minutes late!” Sean shouted.
“Traffic was bad,” I said as I leaned on the doorframe.
A tall shifter stood in front of Sean’s desk in an impeccably tailored black suit. I could feel his wolf hidden barely below his skin. My eyes wandered over his broad shoulders, strong back, and tight ass. He turned to face me, and my heart stopped dead. I recognised the silver eyes of the Guardian from the bar as they met mine. Under better circumstances, his amused smirk would have had me striding over and flirting with him; as it was, my instincts screamed to run and not look back.
Goddess, what the sweet fuck had I done to deserve this?
Eleven
“Get in here, Conall, and shut the dam
n door,” Sean growled.
The Guardian watched my every move, his pretty mouth quirked into that sexy smirk. I resisted the urge to grind my teeth and plastered a polite smile on my face. I’d learned early on that the best way to deal with shitty situation was a polite smile and good manners. Unless you could fight your way out, of course, but there was no way in Hell I was going to be kicking the Guardian’s ass. I closed the door behind me and strode past the Guardian to give Sean a death glare. The asshole could have given me a heads up.
Sean had the good sense to pull away a little as his eyes flicked between me and the Guardian.
“This is Mr. Kerrigan. He’s taking you off my hands,” Sean said with more than a little glee.
My blood ran cold. Did that mean the goddess had decided I was no longer allowed to walk this plane?
“I wouldn’t have phrased it quite like that…” the Guardian growled at Sean.
I half-turned and gave the Guardian a sweet smile. If I was damned, I had no reason not to push a little.
“And how would you have phrased it?”
He took a step closer to me. He was only two, maybe three inches taller than me, but he had such a presence to him it felt more like a foot. I raised an eyebrow and held his gaze. I wasn’t going to be intimidated.
“I’d have said, ‘Niko, you’re Mr. Kerrigan’s new partner,’” he said with what almost sounded like a purr.
My mind warred between the sultry tone of his voice and the words that had come out of his mouth.
“Kindly give us a moment,” Kerrigan said to Sean.
Sean bared his teeth and muttered under his breath as he got out from behind his desk and left his office with a slam of the door.