Dedication
This book is for all the readers who loved the Striker family as much as I do and asked for more. Thank you for embracing the Legacy series.
To my husband, who is my inspiration, I can’t begin to tell you how much your love and support mean to me.
And thank you to my amazing editor for all your hard work and enthusiasm. You’re one of a kind, Heidi.
Prologue
Meredith Cross closed her eyes and let the slow, sultry music swirl around her. It enveloped her like a lover, making her feel warm and safe. She opened her eyes and looked around Haven, the bar she owned and operated with her family. She’d done something good here. They’d done something good here.
She glanced toward the crowded bar area and smiled as her two sons—Michael and Benjamin—charmed the female patrons and kept the male ones under control as they doled out drinks. They both were big and strong and loyal. Sons any mother would be proud to call her own.
“Everything okay?”
Meredith turned and smiled at Hank. He was one of her four adopted children. They were her family, not by blood, but by choice. She loved them as fiercely as she did her biological children. Hank was built like a tank and kept his blond hair in a buzz cut. He’d been a soldier and looked the part. He was one tough sonofabitch, which made him an excellent bouncer and bartender. He was also her youngest son and, in many ways, a sensitive soul. “I’m fine.”
He stared at her with his pale blue eyes. Most people would have been intimidated by his laser gaze. But not her. Reaching out, she patted his arm in a familiar caress. “Really.”
He nodded, not looking convinced, but taking her at her word. He returned to his post at the door, his large body moving gracefully for such a big man.
Meredith studied the room with its dark oak bar and cozy seating arrangement. The minuscule stage at the far end currently held a jazz quartet. Haven was known for its jazz, blues and folk music. They were an eclectic club and they liked it that way.
A door next to the bar area swung open and Neema strode out carrying a large tray filled with onion rings, fries, nachos and other pub snacks. The food wasn’t fancy at Haven, but it was exceptionally good. A group of young men flirted with her adopted daughter as she served up their order. With her café au lait skin, short, curly black hair and expressive brown eyes, Neema attracted more than her share of male attention. Not that she noticed.
This was Meredith’s home. She lived in an apartment upstairs. In fact, all of them lived in apartments above the bar. It was why she’d bought the building about twenty-five years ago when real estate prices had been cheap. She’d wanted a home for her family. It might have taken another dozen years or so of running before they’d settled here, but she’d always known the building and the city was waiting for them.
She rubbed the back of her neck, trying to dispel the restless feeling that had been haunting her these past few days. A sense of dread had been creeping up on her at odd moments. As hard as she tried, she couldn’t rid herself of the sense that something was coming. And soon.
Shaking herself, she made her way over to the band just as they were finishing up a song. She knew them well and occasionally sang with them. Tonight was one of those nights. She wanted to sing, to lose herself in the music.
Whatever was coming, she could do nothing to change it. All she could do was wait and protect her family as she’d always done.
The band began to play one of her favorite songs without her even having to ask. She let the familiar notes surround her and then she opened her mouth to sing.
Isaiah strode through the woods just beyond the family compound in Wolf Creek, North Carolina. This far out there were no artificial lights to be seen. The sky was awash with stars, the moon a silver sliver in the indigo sky.
He liked being alone. Disliked feeling hemmed in, whether it was physically or emotionally. So why had he agreed to travel to Chicago?
He paused by a large oak and calmly began to strip off his clothing. As he removed each piece, he folded it and tucked it safely beneath the tree. Not that there was much. He was only wearing a T-shirt, jeans, socks and sneakers. With each garment he removed, a layer of civilization was stripped away. Not that he was very civilized on the best of days.
Naked, he raised his arms above his head and let the cool night air surround him, caress his skin. With his metabolism, he was barely aware of the cold. It felt good. Refreshing.
This was what he loved more than anything. Being alone in the woods, unfettered. Why then was he headed to the city as a favor to his brother and sister-in-law?
“Because family comes first,” he muttered. That was his Achilles heel. He might have abdicated his responsibilities to the pack, but he would never relinquish them with regards to his family. His four younger brothers and his new sister-in-law, Alexandra, were all that were important to him.
Shoving away all his misgivings about his upcoming trip, he threw himself into the change, embracing the other side of himself. His bones cracked as he fell forward on his hands. Bones lengthened. Fur grew thick, covering his skin in a soft, rich pelt in various shades of brown with patches of black.
When it was over, he stood on all fours, an enormous wolf, king of the forest. He tilted back his head and howled. A warning to all others in the area. This was his time and his swath of woods. He wanted no company.
His keen sense of smell scented only small game and the pungent smell of half-rotting leaves mixed with fresh pine. A fox scurried away off to his left. An owl hooted in the distance. The familiar feeling of joy filled him and he trotted off into the underbrush, gaining speed as he went.
Here he could let the human side of himself slip away, be buried under the instincts of the wolf. It was never truly gone, but in these moments he could simply be.
He jumped over a downed log and went under another, his lean, muscled body moving easily through the darkness. A lethal shadow. Running. Always running.
From who or what, he was never quite sure.
The restlessness that had plagued him most of his life had gotten worse since his brother had taken a mate. Life in the pack had changed. There had been death and betrayal and bloodshed. When the dust had settled a new pack alpha had emerged and his brother had claimed his mate.
Thoughts of Alex and his brother together made him smile when little else did these days. She was more than a match for Joshua. He was glad his brother was happy, but it had simply made the cavern of dissatisfaction growing within him even larger.
The wolf grew restless, so he suppressed all thoughts of the future and threw himself into the run. He was here at the moment, free and wild, and that was all that mattered.
Yet even here he couldn’t quite shake the feeling something was coming. There was change on the wind. Whether it was good or bad, only time would tell.
Chapter One
Isaiah Striker prowled restlessly down the busy street. Cars and trucks drove by and the “L” rumbled off in the distance. People talked or yelled, depending on their purpose. The city was never quiet. That’s what he hated the most. All the noise. It was enough to drive a man, or in this case a werewolf, mad.
His thoughts wandered as his long legs ate up the sidewalk. He noted the way women watched him with a combination of lust and fear in their eyes or the way men stared warily as he walked by. He was a big man, more feral than civilized. Humans might be far removed from the wilds of their ancestors, but their survival instincts were still there. When they sensed a predator in their midst they had brains enough to get out of the way.
Even now, he still wasn’t quite certain how he’d ended up in Chicago. He’d needed to get away from his home in the hills of North Carolina, but being trapped in a crowded city wasn’t e
xactly what he’d had in mind. As a wolf, he needed open space in which to run free. As a man, he wanted to be alone.
He cursed under his breath as he tried to ignore the stench of human body odor and garbage tinged with that of drugs, alcohol and perfume. His preternatural sense of smell was making the experience quite unpleasant. Occasionally, he’d catch a whiff of something quite wonderful wafting out from a restaurant as he passed by. His stomach growled in protest.
It had been hours since he’d eaten. He’d come to Chicago at his brother’s request. One corner of his mouth turned up in a ghost of a smile. Who’d have thought his brother, Joshua, would be the first of them to be mated. As the eldest, Isaiah had grown up assuming it would be him. But that hadn’t happened and wasn’t likely to any time soon.
Female werewolves were scarce. The past hundred years had not been kind to their species. Children were far and few between and what children were born were mostly male. Add that to the infighting between packs and the paranormal bounty hunters who pursued them relentlessly and it was no wonder their kind was on the brink of extinction.
Which led him back to the reason why he was here—Alexandra, his new sister-in-law. She was a half-breed who’d been discovered and hunted as a potential mate by some, while others had sought to destroy her.
He rolled his shoulders and fisted his hands at his sides at the mere thought of anyone harming her. In the short time she’d been mated to his brother, he’d come to respect and like her.
She and her father, James LeVeau Riley, had left Chicago quickly. Isaiah was here to tie up loose ends and have their belongings shipped to the Wolf Creek pack compound back home. So far, all he’d been doing was watching the garage they’d called home to make certain no hunters or other wolf packs were still sniffing around. When he was certain all was clear, he’d make contact and start the process of moving their stuff to Wolf Creek. Another day or so. Maximum.
Once this responsibility was dealt with, he promised himself he’d take off on his own for a while. He’d been feeling even edgier than usual lately, not at home in his own skin. And he didn’t like the sensation at all. He almost wished someone would pick a fight with him. It would be a good way to blow off some steam.
But a brawl with a human wouldn’t be fair. He was many times stronger and faster than any normal male. It would also draw attention, which was the last thing he wanted.
His phone rang and he sighed as he reached into his pocket. “Yeah?” he answered, knowing who it was without even checking the display.
“How are things going?”
Isaiah stifled a sigh. His brother was turning into an old woman, worrying and nagging him. The thought made him grin. No one but him would dare think of Joshua in that way.
Joshua was Striker of the Wolf Creek pack. He was the enforcer, the judge, jury and, when necessary, the executioner. He was tough and ruthless. He did whatever had to be done to protect the pack.
The job should have been Isaiah’s but he’d refused to accept it when their father had been killed. He owed his brother for taking over the responsibility he hadn’t been able to. Besides which, he knew his brother loved him and worried about him so he bit back his acidic retort. “I’m fine.”
There was a long silence on the other end of the line before Joshua finally spoke. “I know that’s not true, but I appreciate you taking care of this for me. The pack is still in an uproar over everything that’s happened and I can’t be away right now.”
“I’ll handle it.”
He heard a female voice in the background and Joshua added, “Alex adds her thanks too.”
“It’s no problem.” He glanced around as the fine hairs on the back of his neck rose. Someone was watching him.
“You seen Damek yet?”
“I’m on my way there now. I’ll call you tomorrow.” He ended the call, slipped the phone into the back pocket of his jeans and continued down the street.
Isaiah glanced casually over his shoulder, scanning the area behind him. Moving quickly, he darted across the busy road, ignoring the blare of horns and the shouts that followed him. Thankfully, he was in the downtown area and it was busy. He kept walking, opening all of his senses as he tried to figure out where his pursuer was, which was impossible given the crowds.
The feeling faded after a while, leaving him to wonder if he was simply being paranoid. No one but his immediate family and his alpha knew where he was.
It was time to take care of some business. He headed toward the Fulton River District, following Joshua’s directions. The area was a contradiction. Empty warehouses sat alongside million-dollar condos. It was easy to see that development was thriving in this section of the city.
His destination was one of the warehouses. He turned down a dimly lit alleyway. It wasn’t late, but darkness was quickly descending on the city and its citizens were already seeking the mind-numbing distractions of booze, drugs and music that could be found in a multitude of clubs in the area. There was something for everyone from posh to seedy dive.
None of it interested him. He hated being surrounded by people. Closed inside a building. Still, duty called.
Isaiah ignored the short lineup and went straight to the closed iron door. He raised his fist and pounded on the thick panel.
The door opened and a bouncer eyed him with suspicion. The guy was about six-foot-eight and wore leather from head to toe. His bald head and scowling face were meant to intimidate.
Isaiah didn’t give a shit. He wanted to complete his business and get out of here. “Damek.”
The bouncer raised an eyebrow in question. “And you are?”
“Striker. Isaiah Striker.”
The big guy sighed and rubbed his hand over his bald skull. “Another one, huh. I met your brother a while back. Come on in and wait.”
No one in the line protested as Isaiah followed the bouncer inside. The heavy door slammed shut behind them and he had the sensation of being entombed. Not too far fetched, considering the club was owned by a vampire.
The music pounded around him, vibrating through the floor and into his body. A blast of heat hit him as he stepped down several steps and headed to the bar. Thankfully, it wasn’t too crowded yet. But there were still way too many people for Isaiah’s liking.
He pushed past the mass of writhing bodies on the dance floor, ignoring the way the men and women groped at one another. The club was aptly named Inhibitions, as anyone who entered seemed to lose theirs.
Isaiah leaned against the bar. The bartender eyed him but a word from the bouncer and he was left alone. Not that there was any peace or quiet to be found. The music, if you could call it that, was loud and obnoxious with little melody. It was pulse-pounding, fuck-me music, designed to whip all the patrons into a frenzy.
From the looks of things, it was working. He counted no less than four couples having sex, while about a half-dozen more were in various stages of undress. Two women trolled across the floor toward him. Both of them wore what he supposed passed for dresses, but looked more like shrunken T-shirts. The necklines dropped almost to their nipples and the hemlines covered their crotches. Barely.
“Hey, looking for some fun?” One of the ladies pushed up next to him, straddling one of his thighs and grinding her pussy against it. Her perfume filled his nostrils, making it hard for him to breathe. He set her aside.
“No.”
“Ah, come on.” The other woman pouted. She lifted his hand and placed it on one of her incredibly huge breasts. “I can do things to you that will blow your mind.”
“I’m sure you can,” he agreed, as he looked over her head, desperate to be away from this place.
The first woman, not to be outdone, grabbed his cock through his jeans and squeezed. “You’re a big one, aren’t you? Plenty to go around.”
Isaiah had had enough. He gently disengaged from both women and headed to the short corridor beyond the bar with their soft complaints trailing behind him. He was done with waiting.
&nb
sp; The bouncer met him just beyond the door to Damek’s office and held it open. Isaiah stalked into the room, grateful when the door shut, closing out some of the grating noise and overwhelming smells.
“How the hell do you live here?” His preternatural senses told him the vampire was with him. Power pulsed all around him, potent and strong.
Laughter rose from the corner of the room and Damek strode forward—tall, dark-eyed and pale-skinned. “You get used to it. It does have benefits.”
“If you say so,” he muttered. Of course, Damek needed blood to survive. It was smart to keep your food source close. Joshua had told him Damek was rumored to be almost a thousand years old. Isaiah had no idea if it was true and, at the moment, couldn’t care less. He wanted out of here.
“It’s good to see you again, my friend.” Damek waved to the chair opposite his desk. “Sit.”
They weren’t friends and he wasn’t sitting. They occasionally did favors for one another, but that was as far as it went. Werewolves and vampires were naturally suspicious around one another. But the survival of their respective species had pushed aside the natural boundaries that had kept them apart since the beginning of time.
The paranormal bounty hunters had given them a common foe, one that had made them reach out to one another in a way they wouldn’t naturally do.
“I’ll stand, if you don’t mind.” He wasn’t exactly polite, but he didn’t want to antagonize either.
“Very well. What can I do for you?”
Isaiah kept his hands loose by his sides and did his best to keep his guard up and his mind blank. He had no idea if Damek could read his mind or not. Keeping apart for so long meant neither species knew as much as they should about the other. It kept them all on edge.
Isaiah figured Damek probably enjoyed that.
“Just a courtesy call to let you know I was in the city.” Damek was head vampire in Chicago. Isaiah didn’t want problems with the local paranormals while he was here.
“Ah, I take it you’re here to see to James LeVeau’s belongings and, of course, those of his exceptionally beautiful daughter.”
Isaiah's Haven Page 1
