by A. K. Koonce
Mrs. Linskey stares at me like I’m a one thousand piece jigsaw puzzle she can’t figure out. A wave of warmth washes over me—magic I can’t ignore—and I try to push it in her direction. I know my mysterious magic makes people feel good.
Her eyes widen, and I know she feels the unexplainable effects, even if she doesn’t understand them.
Deafening cheers rise through the crowd at something Alpha Morganson said in the speech I’m not paying attention to.
Together, we glance toward the front of the gathering, but the last thing I need to hear is more endless commentary on how much this night means. As if there isn’t enough pressure placed on our first shift.
I swear some of the other wolves in the vicinity are eyeing me with unfettered curiosity.
Fuck.
I’m stunned to hear two of them whispering and even exchanging money, waging bets on my shift. There are some who think I won’t shift into a wolf at all, but some other creature entirely. Or perhaps they’re wagering that my wolf will be even more defiant once she’s released, taking bets on what punishment the alpha will inflict upon me first.
Or maybe, just like Mary, our alpha will be ready to push me from the pack I’ve known my entire life…
A sharp pain grinds out in the bones of my wrist as Mrs. Linskey’s grip tightens. She’s gazing around as surely as I am, noticing the same attention we’re suddenly receiving.
“Come on.” I nod toward the sidelines that suddenly look much more appealing. Being the center of attention makes me uncomfortable. It means a fight is likely to occur. And the elderly shouldn’t be in the middle of that. The old woman follows after me as I lead her away from the crowd and down one sloping side of the hill. “Let’s get you out of here.”
It doesn’t escape my notice that my neighbor hasn’t uttered a single word, and the concern about the stroke she could be having comes roaring back right as a warmth I can’t explain spreads through my chest like the slow burning of a fire in winter air. It creeps through me like spreading ink until it covers every surface, thoroughly distracting me.
My wolf perks up.
And I slam into a slab of steel.
Air rushes from my lungs in a whoosh. They burn for more oxygen which I scramble to give them until large hands clamp down on my shoulders, stealing my breath entirely. The scent of fire mixes with something sharper that I can’t define.
All I know is that cologne companies would make a killing if they bottled the fragrance.
My gaze traces the defined lines of a tee-shirt clad chest until I’m staring into the hard russet eyes of the most sinfully scary man I’ve ever seen in my life.
There’s something about dangerous men that gives them an allure I may never understand. His attraction is like a rush of adrenaline. Like playing with fire.
In the midst of Hell.
Shadows play over his face, swirling like smoke. His eyes are the color of dying embers, the reddish brown of his gaze burning holes into me.
I half expect to bleed from the intensity of it.
He focuses on my face, his steadfast gaze tracing over my features, and for the second time today, I wonder if I’m slowly losing my grasp on reality.
“Who the fuck are you?” I pat myself on the back for keeping my voice serious and steady despite the rapid beating of my heart.
My question stands. I’ve never seen this guy in my life. There’s no way I’d ever forget those eerie, otherworldly eyes.
“Don’t tell me you didn’t feel it.” The bastard ignores me completely and speaks to Mrs. Linskey, who finally releases me.
I glance to the elderly woman and then back to the man who looks like a fucking mascot for the Irish mob.
“How do you know her?” I ask the deadly-looking stranger.
He passes a hard look from me to her. “I’m her fucking caretaker. Clearly.”
“Can’t even take care of your fucking self, asshole,” Mrs. Linskey murmurs with a totally out of character eye roll and shake of her head.
What. The. Fuck?
I rub at the ache in my wrist, eyes flitting between the odd pair before me. Racking my brain, I try to remember if Mrs. Linskey has a family. She’s always alone, but it’s possible her family lives with another close pack in the mountains.
On the rare occasion I went into her home, I never paid attention to the picture frames cluttered on every surface, but it’s possible this guy truly is her caretaker… a grandson maybe… who happens to enjoy biker gangs and fist fights on the weekends…
I study him openly. He’s older than me. That much is clear, but it’s easy to tell he’s still in his twenties. There’s a youthfulness to his skin despite the ruggedness of his features
Though his eyes dare me to guess again. Their stormy blaze alludes to a hardness most people don’t experience in one lifetime, let alone twenty-eight or twenty-nine short years.
“It can’t possibly be her,” Mrs. Linskey says, though her voice is devoid of the typical aging grit. Each note sounds… off. The melody of it is all wrong. “This pack would much rather be rid of her. There’s no love lost.”
I blink. Did I… Did I hear that correctly? The words are a dagger to the heart, plunging deeply and twisting as one of my only allies condemns me.
I feel like I’m still dreaming, trapped in a nightmare. That would at least let me explain all the weird shit that’s gone on today.
Hot flames burst out. A flicker of raging fire ignites over Mrs. Linskey, burning up her thin shawl and the flesh beneath. I choke on my scream as her skin ashes away and transforms into a tall man where she was just standing.
That… that’s not possible!
The same guy who’s been stalking me all day appears in her place as if it was the most natural occurrence in the world. A jagged breath trembles over my lips. I’m already retreating slowly, shaking my head like I’ve lost my damn mind.
No one will ever believe this.
They’ll medicate me. They’ll shut me away like I’m more of an embarrassment to the pack than I already am.
Though I have a million questions sitting on my tongue, my flight-or-fight response is firmly switched to run, and I nearly trip over my feet as I scramble backward over the light blanket of snow.
“Rhys,” the one with the starlit blue eyes growls out, but I can’t get away from the two men glaring at me fast enough. It’s not lost on me that he knows my fucking name.
Wet grass slides beneath my shoes as I whip around quickly, only to run smack into yet another hard chest. What the fuck is with everyone getting in my way tonight? I’m rarely around people, and tonight I can barely walk without slamming into someone or being bumped into.
It’s called personal space, people.
And I really fucking need it in the middle of a mental crises.
I rub my chest, cringing at the pain that blooms in my tit from the person I practically eradicated in my haste to get the fuck out of here.
My face barely rises before my gaze locks on Kyvain’s ugly sneer. Because, of course, the universe really wants to ass fuck me today.
And I have zero time to react before he backhands me. The sting is worse against the chill in my cheeks.
Yeah.
I never should have gotten out of bed this morning.
Chapter Four
Imaginary Friends
Rhys
Copper floods my mouth as my head whips sideways with enough force to snap a human’s neck. Good thing I’m a wolf, or Mary would be planning my funeral and collecting one or two sympathy cards by now.
I wonder if it matters to her if I leave her life with a moving truck or in a body bag. I tell myself she’d be sad, but the truth needles. She’d take a day or two to mourn my death before turning my bedroom into an office.
My wolf grumbles.
Yeah. Two days is probably too generous.
Calvin snickers at Kyvain’s side and I palm my aching cheek. Part of me is shocked he hit me in public, and the oth
er part is pissed.
“I thought my warning this morning was rather clear. You’re not welcome here.” Kyvain takes a menacing step forward, clearly hoping to intimidate me with his broad build, icy glare, and harsh rebuke.
Joke’s on him.
He’s not even the scariest monster I’ve encountered today, and I have zero fucks left to give.
My wolf hums happily, clearly pleased I’m finally putting her asshole personality to good use.
A quick glance behind me shows that I’m alone once again. And once more, I’m wondering if I imagined the entire encounter with the two strange men.
Fuck. Is it possible Kyvain found a way to drug me earlier?
It’s the only option that remotely makes sense.
“The Dark Moon is for everyone, Kyvain,” I reply, more than a little annoyed. “I’m going to shift whether you try to kick me out or not.” I lift my chin toward the rising moon.
It’s almost fully above us, and my skin practically tingles with the magic of my first shift. My wolf writhes under my skin, ready to break through for the first time and fully reveal herself.
Revenge isn’t far from her mind. The desire to rip a hole in Kyvain and teach him a lesson rides me hard enough that I have to swallow and roll my neck to hold her back.
Warmth seeps over my stinging cheek and the pain morphs to a prickling that tells me I’ll have yet another bruise. Luckily, as soon as I shift, I’ll begin healing faster.
There’s blood on my palm from a cut on my cheekbone, and I can only conclude it was put there by the signet ring Kyvain wears on his left hand. Their family crest is embossed in the surface of the gold. If he had punched me, I’d be wearing the symbol like a brand.
I grit my teeth as Kyvain’s alpha authority sinks into me like poison.
“You crossed a line this morning, Rhys.” Kyvain’s chest practically brushes against mine as he menacingly invades my personal space. Fear trickles through the normal part of me, but it only gets so far, unable to penetrate the anger radiating from my wolf. “You shouldn’t have opened that pretty little mouth of yours, but you’ll be opening it on command for me real soon.”
Kyvain exchanges a crude smile with Calvin, the twist of his lips a leer that’s far too dangerous for his pretty face. As much as I hate him, I have to admit that he comes from a good set of genes. Unfortunately, he’s far too ugly on the inside to be considered good-looking.
A biting smile tenses my lips as I lean in good and close to make sure he understands my quiet, rasping words.
“I guess no one’s told you,” I whisper innocently. “You have to have a dick in order for someone to suck it.” I pull back and flip him off before shouldering my way past the two of them.
The unyielding nerve of this asshole is astounding.
But fuck, does it feel good to give in to the wolf side of me.
Long fingers wrap around my bicep with bruising force before I’ve even made it a full step. Kyvain jerks me into the hard line of his body.
My stomach dips and rolls, riding a rollercoaster of its own making. Being this close to him is vomit inducing.
A growl rumbles through the darkness, but Kyvain and his crony don’t seem to notice. Or maybe they don’t hear it the way I do.
This is taking ‘imaginary friends’ a little too far. Just don’t look at them.
They’re not there. They’re not there. There’s no such thing as exploding men on fire…
Right?
I swallow, pissed off that I have no way to extract myself from Kyvain’s grip. He’s bigger and stronger than I am. My knee is about to meet his groin when his next words chill me to the fucking bone.
“It makes the news I get to deliver to you so much sweeter because you think your life is still your own,” Kyvain rumbles darkly. “You belong to the pack, Rice.” My shitty nickname flows off his tongue. He does it on purpose, but this time there’s a promise hidden behind the way he says it.
An ownership.
Dread settles over my heart like a lead blanket. “Your mother is making arrangements right this minute with my father, bartering your life for a better one for herself. You won’t get a mate. We all know it. You fucking know it. You’ll be no better than a pack whore. And I get you to myself first.”
He’s lying. He is.
But still, doubt creeps in.
A million emotions fly through me, but I settle on anger. My wolf wants to snap her teeth and rip Kyvain’s face off just to rid him of the smug satisfaction gleaming in his blue eyes. He thinks he’s cornered me, but I’m no wilting flower.
My gaze shoots into his with the intensity of a high-powered laser.
“I’ll never be your whore,” I promise him right back and try to tear myself from his grasp.
“That’s where you’re wrong,” he purrs, and the sound is more fear inducing than a snarl from our beasts. “You’ve always been a whore. Now we’re just making it official. You’re going to regret what you said about my dick when I leave you unable to walk in the morning.”
He grabs my ass and hauls me against him so I can feel just how tiny his cock really is.
My throat constricts. Curving fingers squeeze too tightly. His breath is hot against my face. It suffocates me. I can’t breathe.
A growl slashes through the darkness. This time, Kyvain’s eyes flick away from mine to search the shadows behind me. Icy tingles prick along my arms with the sense of danger.
“Aric.” Though I can’t see him, the warning bite comes from stalker number one. I’m already attuned to the warm, calming timbre of the burning man from earlier.
A darker, deeper voice answers out of thin air. “I’m going to Hell anyway. What can she do to me?”
Hell? She?
All questions I file away for later.
My lips curve into a knowing smile as I watch Kyvain’s eyes widen as he takes in stalker number two, Aric, who emerges from the shadows as if he was bred from them.
“Don’t. Don’t do this,” Stalker One warns, but Aric keeps prowling forward. “Or ignore me. Whatever,” Stalker One mutters, but he does nothing to stop Aric from striding right up to Kyvain and wrapping a meaty hand around the alpha’s throat. Tattoos decorate his arms in thick lines and intricate pictures I could spend hours studying. They disappear below the tee-shirt that molds itself against his body.
Kyvain releases me instantly, and I skirt sideways before looking around for the other magical man. There’s nothing. The crowd is all gathered tightly up on the hill, oblivious to what’s happening in the shadows below, and the burning man is nowhere to be seen.
Again.
He leaves me just as confused as I’ve been all day. In the distance, past the pack that always ignores my existence, I see Mary animatedly chatting with Alpha Morganson, and the vise around my heart tightens.
She wouldn’t offer me as a whore… Alpha Morganson wouldn’t allow it…
“Who… are… you?” Kyvain gasps with the limited air he’s still able to breathe.
“I tried that question already,” I sass with more bravado than I should probably feel. “Good luck getting anything more than cryptic riddles if you get any answer at all.” My hands hit my hips, and just seeing Kyvain so weak empowers me more than ever.
Or perhaps that’s the magic of the Dark Moon.
Calvin’s Adam’s apple bobs hard as he stares at his best friend with wide, scared shitless eyes. What a good little beta wolf. Such a good boy.
Honestly, I can’t fully blame him. Aric is massive, far out bulking Kyvain and Calvin. There’s no question who I’d put my money on to win a fight, and the beta knows it.
“You’re trespassing on my territory.” Kyvain’s growl comes out as more of a squeak when Aric tightens his hold with a casual tensing of his long fingers.
If these eerie men plan to continue following me around, it’s about time they made themselves useful. This is nice. I should have a harem of guards like this going forward. Hell, the two of them
could be more than guards depending on their mood.
I wonder if stalker boy one is very good at fanning someone with an overly large tropical leaf…
I’m distracted when a slicing amusement cuts across my guard’s cruel features. Aric’s teeth are somehow sharper than normal, and his feral smile gleams in the pale moonlight.
Proving just how much of an idiot he truly is, Kyvain clearly dismisses every sign of danger. I guess it makes sense. His father raised him to believe he was invincible, the second strongest among us. The right hand to the alpha, an untouchable legacy.
A total. Fucking. Idiot.
“She belongs to me,” Kyvain spits.
A cold, dry sound of disgust cuts through the shadowed night. “She belongs to no one,” Aric growls.
My heart pitter-patters in my chest like a besotted schoolgirl’s while I stare at the monster before me in complete and utter shock. No one ever stands up for me. Bea tried, but over time I’ve convinced her it isn’t worth putting herself in the line of fire. I’ve always been the bullseye of the pack’s bullying, particularly Kyvain’s, and I never want to get her dragged into it.
Whatever beef they have is centered on me and the strangeness of my beast within.
Funny how Aric turned from stalker to savior in under a minute.
Is it possible to fall for a complete stranger? Because I think I just fucking fell in love with this murderous asshole.
“I’ll have your head for this!” Kyvain bares his teeth, but it’s a pathetic attempt to make himself seem more menacing. He’s like a kitten left out in the rain at this point.
Aric’s evil laughter skirts down my spine. Inch by inch he lifts Kyvain off the ground until he’s kicking and flailing, scratching at the giant hand collared around his throat.
“Stronger men have tried. And in the end, I still feasted on their eyes like little cocktail weenies.” The deadly man’s threat is odd but honest, it seems.
“No one knows tiny cocktail weenies like Kyvain,” I add, despite my grimace at the thought of what the psycho to my left just described.
A heavy thud resounds as Aric drops him in a heap at his feet. My classmate lies in the mud like a crumpled up wad of paper.