Escaping Monsters: A Reverse Harem Wolf Shifter Romance (Grayhaven Book 1)
Page 3
My wolf nature connected with theirs, strengthening them. Their dominant instincts were sharpening. Werewolves always felt glorious near me. I was the built-in spiritual ego boost of wolf-kind. Their instincts urged them to claim me as part of their pack and protect me, but they always handed me back to Kane.
The Alpha of North America was the boogeyman that even the nastiest monsters feared.
Kane Shipman was probably already on his way to Grayhaven.
Chapter Two
A tear slipped onto my cheek. I couldn’t help it. Blood soaked my vision, and the image of claws and teeth ripping apart flesh flashed through my mind. The fire that raged in my heart when I was on the run sputtered, ready to go dormant for another immeasurable stretch of time. Kane was getting better at controlling me. With this more recent capture, it had been three whole years before I found a way to escape.
“Fuck off, Clive. This werewolf said she wasn’t interested in your mothball vampire fuck club,” a low voice growled from beside me. The werewolf leaned between me and the vampire.
“How good to see you, Jasper,” Clive said over his drink with a lascivious smile. “Just for full transparency, sex is not included in the amenities at the Sanguine Inn, but many of our staff will throw it in at no extra charge. Can I buy a round for the pack? Do you serve drinks with dog food in it, bartender?”
“You can fuck off, Clive,” the werewolf named Jasper growled. His wrist was thick. Even through his leather jacket, I could see that this werewolf was ripped—not that he needed to be to control me. I was an omega. Any fucking wolf could control me. It was why Kane hunted, stalked, and turned me into a werewolf in the first place.
“I’ll catch you all later then.” Clive smiled serenely, turned with a flourish of his hand, and walked away, and I wanted to call after him. Sure, I’d feed him my blood in exchange for a place to stay. I’d give him more than my blood if only he’d help me escape this werewolf, Jasper, and his two werewolf cronies. What was a few pints of blood and one fuck to avoid years of Kane? Nothing.
“Fucking bloodsuckers,” a low, male voice said from behind me. “Hey, are you okay?”
He was talking to me. It probably seemed like I was in shock. My whole body was shaking, and I fucking hated it, but I couldn’t stop either. Any second now, they would dominate me and take me to wherever they’d arranged to meet Kane. My abductions always followed the same script.
Gritting my teeth, I lifted my pint glass and slammed the side down on the counter. Broken shards of glass flew in all directions and cut into my palm, but I pushed the pain down and brought the glass up to Jasper’s throat.
His neck was as muscular as his arm, and I refused to look up into his face as I held the broken glass shard to his Adam’s apple.
“Let’s just all pretend this didn’t happen, okay?” I said as I pressed the broken glass into his skin, making a drop of blood leak down the shiny glass.
Jasper’s hand came down and wrapped around the edge of my barstool as if the werewolf didn’t even notice the broken glass I was cutting into his throat.
“Look into my eyes,” he rumbled, his voice low and resonant.
The order pressed down on me, and my gaze tried to force its way up.
“Fuck you,” I ground out.
The alpha—he had to be an alpha, grabbed my wrist and pushed the broken shard of glass away from his throat.
Why the fuck didn’t I just stab him when I had the chance?
Tears coursed down my cheeks, and I hated myself for every single drop of saltwater I lost for these worthless assholes who controlled my life, but there it was.
“Look into my eyes, wolf,” he said, and the order pressed down on me like a vice. My gaze slid up, and I saw blue eyes, dark hair, a broken nose, and a split lip.
When any werewolf gave me a direct order, my omega magic gave them a powerful high. My old alpha had described it as the feeling of becoming truly invincible for a few precious minutes.
As soon as Jasper ordered me to look into his eyes, my power surged into him, creating a link between us, and his emotions flowed straight back into me. This alpha emitted the familiar soaring, weightless and heady feeling from my omega magic, but beneath it, was a nearly painful yearning. He wanted me so much that he ached, and that strange desire troubled him.
It troubled me too. Nothing good ever came of an alpha desiring me.
“You’ve hurt yourself,” Jasper said. “Drop the glass, so Lucas can look at your wound.”
“Go fuck yourself,” I whispered, but my numb fingers obeyed his order. They didn’t have a choice. There was a tinkling as my glass collided with the bar floor, and then the alpha kicked the broken shards away with his boot.
“Put that glass on the pack’s tab,” the werewolf beside Jasper said with a wink at the bartender. He didn’t look anything like the alpha. He had to be almost seven feet tall and built like a quarterback. Tattoos peeked out from his collar and around his wrists. A giant cross decorated one side of his neck. He looked the age most people assumed I was, around twenty-five or so, which could mean anything with a werewolf. His hair was dark and buzzed short, and he wore a thick canvas jacket and his jeans were worn and embedded with dirt in the knees. His steel-toed suede boots had seen the kind of use you only earned with hard labor.
“If you mean that I’m going to pay for that glass out of my tips, then I already know that, Asshole,” the sexy-nerdy bartender growled, but it was in a tone you’d use to growl at your brother. Then his words sunk in.
Had I—actually—strolled up and asked a werewolf bartender for a job? I almost deserved to be caught—not that anyone deserved the hell that I would soon endure. But I had never failed so abysmally before. This town had fucked my senses sideways. It was a trap set by that cruel bitch fate, and I had walked straight into it.
“I would be Lucas,” the third werewolf surrounding me said in a calm, soothing voice. Lucas looked several years older than my real age. His hair had patches of gray around the temples, and his beard was salt and pepper. His face looked early-forties. Laugh lines were permanently etched on his cheeks, but he wasn’t smiling now. “Mind if I take a look at your hand?”
When I didn’t move, the alpha growled, “Show Lucas your wound, wolf. We’re not going to let you bleed out here in a filthy bar.”
“It’s only filthy when Chad is singing,” Sexy-Nerdy said as he leaned his forearms onto the bar. “Show Lucas your wrists. He’s a vet.”
I was already holding out my hand to the third werewolf, but fuck if Sexy-Nerdy’s order didn’t press down on me too, and with it, I felt his emotions. From him, I felt a strong fascination and curiosity, dimmed only slightly by wariness. The werewolf bartender didn’t know what to make of me.
“She’s a submissive,” the alpha snapped across the bar at the bartender, “Don’t order her unless it’s absolutely necessary, Ace.”
“I was a veterinarian in a former life, but in Grayhaven, I’m the closest thing you’re going to find to a doctor,” Lucas said as he took my hand. “Actually, I’m pretty much whatever this town needs me to be, if they can’t fix their problems with magic.” He gently lifted my cut hand toward the light, and I could see the blood welling on my palm.
“It’ll heal,” I said, but I ruined it with a gasp as something sharp shifted in my cut.
“Not with a quarter-inch glass shard in there, it won’t,” Lucas said. His gray eyes came up to meet mine, “But I’m not removing this glass in a dirty bar where you’re guaranteed to get an infection—sorry, Ace, but it’s true. Why don’t you come with me to my clinic?”
“You also have supplies in the packhouse, Lucas.” Jasper leaned onto the bar. He didn’t come any closer, and yet, he filled my space. His blue gaze moved over my features slowly, like he was memorizing them. “I know you… somehow, but I don’t know your face or your scent. What’s your name?”
The alpha didn’t order me to answer his question, so I kept my mouth shut.
As if he read my mind, Jasper said, “Why don’t you come to the packhouse with us? Then, Lucas can treat you, and you can give me an explanation for why you were threatening to slit my throat. But you probably don’t want to walk through town with makeup dripping down your face. Ace, some warm water, please…”
Ace slid a glass across the bar, and Jasper plucked a bar napkin off the top of the stack. He dipped it in the glass and squeezed the excess water out. “Here.” Jasper’s hand cradled my chin, and he gently dabbed under my eyes with the napkin. “I’m sorry for making you cry. It wasn’t my intention.”
I stayed very still, knowing that it would have probably been better if I walked through town with makeup dripping down my face. At least then there was a chance someone would think there was a reason for concern seeing three big men escorting an obviously distressed woman.
Jasper tossed the dirty napkin over to Ace who threw it away. “How about you come with us, and after that, we’ll discuss what comes next.”
I knew exactly what came next. I would go with them and look for chances to escape along the way, all the while having to deal with my injured hand. I tried to keep my breathing even as I tugged my bleeding and now aching hand from Lucas’ grip. “I’ll go with you, but I need my backpack from behind the bar.”
“Ace,” the alpha held out a hand, but he didn’t take his eyes off me.
The bartender grabbed my bag and was about to pass it over when he lifted it to his nose. He unzipped the top pocket and pulled out my gun. No one at the bar so much as blinked when he raised it in one hand. “Packing some serious heat here, Annie Oakley.”
“What is that?” Jasper barked, seemingly unfazed.
“Forty-caliber semi-auto with…” Ace sniffed the barrel, “Silver ammo.”
“Werewolf killer,” the alpha said, and then he held out a hand. “I’ll lock this up for you. It’ll make all of us feel safer.”
Some irrational part of me wanted to lunge for the gun as the bartender passed it over the bar, but a move like that was much more likely going to convince the alpha to use my weapon against me. All Jasper had to say was, “hold still,” and then I’d sit there patiently while he loaded me with silver.
“And here I was about to shove it in the back of my pants,” Ace muttered as he washed his hands under the bar. His dark eyes flashed over to me, and I could see a cold judgement there that hadn’t been there before. A sudden surge of condemnation pressed in on me from the bartender.
“You know what? Fuck you… and you… and you.” The only person I didn’t say it to was the veterinarian. “Everybody knows that only cowardly wolves kill other werewolves with silver bullets—right?” I asked as I hugged my injured hand to my chest. “That’s just given in pack society, right? But how does an omega win a dominance fight? Oh, wait. We can’t, not ever.”
All four of the men blinked at me slowly, and I felt a low thrum of confusion pulse through both Ace and Jasper.
“Omega,” Jasper said under his breath, and a surge of shock zipped through the diminishing emotional link I had with him. A moment later, a realization and rightness flowed in from Jasper, like all of his burning questions had just been answered.
Fuck.
Fuck a fucking duck.
It wasn’t possible.
Everyone in werewolf society knew who I was. Each time I ran away, my image was sent to every alpha in North America. But from the alpha and bartender’s emotions, and from the looks they all shared between them, they truly hadn’t known who I was.
And then, I told them.
Damn it all to hell. I just gave myself up to a bunch of werewolves. This had to be a new low point in my life.
Jasper’s eyes narrowed. “Why are you so upset with us? No one here called you a coward for having the gun.”
“Maybe not in your words, but that’s my other curse. When you guys give me orders, I get to feel your emotions. And, you know what, I don’t appreciate getting called onto the carpet by some limp-dick misogynistic assholes. If you want me to go with you anywhere, you’re going to need to force me, and, believe you me, I will make you pay for every fucking second. Trust me, the one thing that I’m amazing at is making asshole werewolves suffer while they’re breaking my will.”
Jasper unzipped the top compartment on my backpack, set my gun in, and zipped it back up. He held up the bag.
“What’s this?” I asked as I took the backpack, feeling like it had to be a trap somehow.
The alpha blew out a breath and ran a hand over the back of his head. “You’re welcome at our pack house for a safe place to sleep, but we’re not forcing you to go anywhere with us.”
My heart caught in my throat as I took the bag and put the straps over my shoulders. Lucas and the big werewolf named Declan stepped back, and I slid down from my barstool and moved past them.
When I made it through, I released my breath and asked, “Are you giving me a head start?” I looked up into Jasper’s blue eyes, begging him to tell me the truth. “Or did you call him already?”
“Call who?” Jasper asked.
I wanted to scream in frustration. Instead, I gritted out, “Kane. Did you call Kane?”
A tangible thread of anger flowed through from Jasper, and a muscle ticked in his jaw. His words came out harsh. “Isn’t Kane Shipman your husband?”
“If by husband you mean that he fucking bought me, changed me against my will, and kept me as a prisoner for ten years.”
A sudden surge of fury erupted in Jasper, but the emotional tether between us broke off abruptly, and I could no longer feel him.
“There’s been a misunderstanding,” Jasper gritted out. “I know the man you’re running from—and, trust me, there’s not a single werewolf in Grayhaven that would piss on Kane Shipman if he was on fire. I can’t make you trust me, Teagan, but Grayhaven is probably the safest place in the world for you if you’re running from the Head Alpha of North America.”
I startled at Jasper’s words, and not because I believed them. I hadn’t heard someone say my name, my real name, in ten years. I was Omega when addressed directly and Kane’s wife when referred to in mixed company. On the run, I was Jane or Sylvia or Emily or some other of my favorite author’s names. The fact that this alpha knew my name scared the absolute shit out of me on so many levels. Half of me wanted to ask him how he knew and the rest of me wanted to get the hell out of this bar.
“Here.” Lucas reached over the bar and grabbed a napkin. On it, he wrote two addresses, below which he wrote, “Gift Certificate for one free set of hand stitches.”
“The first address is the packhouse,” he said. “The second is my downtown clinic, only a few streets over. If you don’t feel comfortable coming to our house, I’ll be at the clinic at seven-thirty tomorrow morning until five o’clock. As a veterinarian, I would recommend coming in sooner rather than later for that hand.” As I took the note, he said, “Your secret is safe with us. I can guarantee that.”
“Thank you.” I shoved the napkin into my back pocket. “Appreciate the gesture.”
Cradling my bloody palm, I headed deeper into the bar, beelining for the tall, pasty vampire named Clive. He leaned over the bar, smiling down at an older man who appeared mid-fifties and had what looked like a pair of horns nestled in his curly brown hair. Not having room in my thought process to contemplate the man’s horns, I held my bleeding hand between the pair. “Hi, Clive. Will you take the blood from a pre-existing cut as payment for a room?”
The vampire rose from his barstool in a fluid motion and his gaze narrowed in on my gash.
“Hmm... It looks to have torn several lay
ers of tissue, though it’s not through any vital artery. Oh… your blood does smell like feral magic…” His dark eyes glowed as if illuminated by some inner flame as he licked his lips. Seeming to snap out of the trance, he glanced over to me and then over his shoulder toward the four werewolves who were still standing around the bar, watching us. His attention turned back to me, and the glow in his eyes had noticeably dimmed. Trading my blood for a room to stay in was probably one of the worst ideas I’d ever had, but vampire saliva cleaned and closed cuts instantly, and I needed a bed for the night. Win-win-win. And, I was out of options.
“Deal.” He reached for my cut, but I pulled my bloody wrist away.
“Room first, and it needs to have a working lock on the door. All locks must be operational from the inside, and there needs to be a deadbolt or something similar that can’t be unlocked from the outside.”
“All of our rooms have safety measures for the guests of that caliber,” he said. “We do not lock our guests in their rooms, on the contrary, we more often have issues with removing ones who do not keep up payment.”
“I have more terms here,” I said. “I’m only feeding you and only until this cut closes. I’m not an all-you-can-eat buffet for the vampires in town.”
“I agreed that it was a deal.” He rolled his head back on his neck and peered at me from down the length of his nose. “But you can’t press on your wound to stop the bleeding before we arrive at the hotel.”
“Oh, there will be bleeding. I have to dig glass out of my palm,” I said, holding the cut closer to him. “What time is check out?”
“Sunset tomorrow,” he said. “Or we can always come up with a further payment arrangement.”
“That won’t be necessary.” Sunset tomorrow was better than I expected. I could work with that.
“Do those werewolves know where your Inn is?” I asked with a nod back over my shoulder.
“Everyone knows where the Sanguine Inn is, it’s on the top of the hill, three blocks west.”