by Fel Fern
Stocoma City 2
The Spymaster’s Crow
Three crime families of shifters have always ruled Stocoma City in an uneasy alliance. When the peace accords between them are broken, House Scavos stands on shaky political ground. The last thing mob boss Maxwell Scavos needs is his mate crossing certain boundaries.
When it came to Aubrey Ansel, Max and his mate, Dominic Marks, had agreed to draw certain lines. Werewolf alphas, especially one of the three ruling alphas of House Scavos, don’t take a lesser third like a crow shifter no matter how much he and his mate desire her. Max has always seen and treated Aubrey like a useful tool, but lines begin to blur when a deity saunters into the city and announces he intends to claim his little crow.
Can Max afford to wage a war with a god when he already has his family’s war to fight?
Genre: Contemporary, Ménage a Trois/Quatre, Paranormal, Vampires/Werewolves
Length: 21,927 words
THE SPYMASTER'S CROW
Stocoma City 2
Fel Fern
MENAGE AND MORE
Siren Publishing, Inc.
www.SirenPublishing.com
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A SIREN PUBLISHING BOOK
IMPRINT: Ménage and More
THE SPYMASTER'S CROW
Copyright © 2015 by Fel Fern
E-book ISBN: 978-1-63259-032-9
First E-book Publication: March 2015
Cover design by Harris Channing
All art and logo copyright © 2015 by Siren Publishing, Inc.
ALL RIGHTS RESERVED: This literary work may not be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, including electronic or photographic reproduction, in whole or in part, without express written permission.
All characters and events in this book are fictitious. Any resemblance to actual persons living or dead is strictly coincidental.
PUBLISHER
Siren Publishing, Inc.
www.SirenPublishing.com
Letter to Readers
Dear Readers,
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DEDICATION
To my readers, I hope you enjoy reading Aubrey, Dom, and Max’s story.
Table of Contents
Title Page
Copyright Page
Dedication
Prologue
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
Chapter Nine
About the Author
THE SPYMASTER'S CROW
Stocoma City 2
FEL FERN
Copyright © 2015
Prologue
The raid was a bloody massacre. Maxwell Scavos’s wolves and the wolves under his brothers poured through the warehouse like an unstoppable black plague, howling, yipping and tearing anything that got in their way. Screams, both human and shifter, rippled through the night. Flesh and bone tore and limbs went flying, leaving a bloody mess.
No, it wasn’t a massacre. It was a cleansing. The Scavos wolves came here to do one thing and one thing only. To cleanse their city of the taint of traitors and sinners who were beyond forgiveness or mercy. The humans and shifters who were involved in the illegal sex ring had crossed the line in a city where lines were shaky and unclear.
Being one of the near-immortal werewolf alphas of House Scavos, one of the crime families ruling Stocoma City, Max had seen his fair share of shit. What lay in front of him was nothing like the messes Max cleaned up before.
Sex was a commodity in any sin city, and Stocoma City was no exception. Stocoma City was a place where anything and anyone could be bartered, traded, and bought.
While everyone who was anyone in the city knew House Scavos ran a line of sex and strip clubs, but they also ran a tight ship. Every reputable crime family in the city had their own set of rules to follow, and there were certain lines not meant to be crossed. It fell to Houses Scavos, Perrault, and Vivaldi to maintain order.
This particular ring had operated on the outskirts of the city, thinking it could be left alone with bribes and gifts to the human authorities. It was dead wrong. When the three crime families learned the ring were making snuff films, House Scavos won the bid to rid the city of their taint.
A bloody and dark shape entered Max’s line of sight. The large werewolf’s coat was a single and solid shade of black. Dominic Marks, Max’s mate, bared his teeth at him in greeting. While his younger brother Connor was the alpha usually in charge of clean up, Max wasn’t sure what brought him out here, at a deceptively abandoned warehouse at the edge of town.
He didn’t shift. Max remained human so he could see the sex ring’s ruin with human eyes.
“I can hear Connor’s pack is fighting over choice meat.” Max sighed. His supernatural eyesight roved over the dirty and rusty human cages with distaste. “Command the wolves in our pack to head back once they’ve had their fill of prey.”
Dom nudged his furry head at his thigh urgently, which told him there were matters requiring his delicate handling.
“Lead on, Dom.”
Max followed his mate pass a series of small, dark, and seldom-used corridors. He frowned when Dom led him to the area of the warehouse not indicated in the blueprints he’d acquired. A series of stairs led down to a dank and musky basement. Judging by the repugnant stink of fear, decay, and blood wafting from the hidden prison, Max had a feeling this was a very special place only certain exclusive buyers and guests were allowed. He drew out his handkerchief and pressed it against his sensitive nose. Dom let out a human-sounding
snort and padded on.
Starved, raving mad, and tortured prisoners peered at them from the bars. Some drew away from Dom and him, while the others pushed their dirty faces through the bars, pleading for release.
“Fuck. More cleanup needed here than I’ve anticipated, fortunately the prisoners here seem beyond saving.”
He ignored Dom’s snarl of disagreement. Max knew he wasn’t a particularly good or honorable man. He’d done his fair deal of questionable deeds for his family. However, unlike his brothers, Connor and London, who might occasionally show some measure of humanity, Max saw the world in terms of profit and loss.
He kept those who were useful to him and disposed of those that weren’t. Max didn’t need a bleeding heart to function. His mate’s heart functioned well enough for both of them.
“Where are you leading me, Dom?” Max said a little too impatiently. He didn’t have time to play the game of “explore the hidden dungeon.” Max ran the family’s spy network, and Stocoma City never ran out of whispers and secrets.
Dom stopped in front of a heavy metal door at the end of the corridor, growling softly at it. Max tried pushing at the door, but cursed when pain streaked across his palms.
“It could have been nice if you told me the door is made of fucking silver,” Max told his mate in disapproval.
He fished out his thick leather gloves from his suit and put them on. Drawing on the supernatural strength of his bestial half, he managed to push the heavy door open.
His eyes quickly adjusted to the dark room. At first, Max thought there was nothing left alive in the room. It smelled of fresh pain and recent death. The menacing aura told him the prisoners kept here didn’t die quick and clean deaths.
Thick chains hung from the walls, but they weren’t fitted to any prisoner. At least, he thought they weren’t. A faint sound, like a small animal in terrible pain, made his head snap to the darkened corner of the room.
Dom loped forward to the small huddled creature, but seeing the wolf, it let out a shrill cry of protest. His mate unexpectedly shifted, making the situation worse. The creature continued to make protesting noises.
“Hush, little one. You’re all right now. We didn’t come here to hurt you.”
Max didn’t like this one bit. The last thing he needed was his mate growing attached to one of the prisoners. Dom was the beta of his pack, his ruthless second, but not many knew his mate also had a soft spot to him.
What even worried him more were the odd symbols and sigils scratched all across the walls.
“This isn’t any normal cell. It’s a fucking ritual room.” Hell’s bells. What were the assholes involved in the sex ring thinking? It wasn’t hard to guess they were dabbling in dark and forbidden arcane arts. Who or what exactly were they sacrificing these prisoners to?
“Don’t worry. I’m going to take you home.”
“Fuck, no.” Max strode to his mate.
The creature turned out to be a thin starving girl in rags. Both her wrists and ankles were raw and chafed from the heavy shackles slapped on them. Matted and long black hair fell across a thin and sharp face. She cringed when Max peered down at her.
“Dom, you can’t take this creature with us. A girl’s different from a stray pet you want to adopt,” Max said in a reproachful tone, but Dom didn’t seem interested in listening to reason. “If you want a pet I can get you a puppy or a kitten.”
The chains shifted and Max was suddenly taken back by the piercing black eyes staring back at him from the girl’s face. The last thing he expected was the hint of strength and defiance there. Suddenly, he couldn’t tear his gaze away. Haunted pain flickered in her eyes and clearly some parts of her were broken, but not all.
How was this girl able to survive when the rest of her companions were either beyond saving or dead?
“I’m not anyone’s pet.”
“Really?”
Max leaned forward to her crouched form. Her reaction was instantaneous. She drew away from his approach, but there was nowhere else to go but the wall. Max ignored the offending scent of blood and grime on her and sniffed the side of her neck. His wolf helped him identify the fact that the girl was not a normal mortal.
He gave her back her space, but he didn’t take his eyes from her. Max still wasn’t sure why his mate drew him here, or why he was suddenly overcome with the instinct to take her with them.
“Little crow, if you become our pet, no one is ever going to touch or hurt you again.” Max wasn’t certain why those words were coming out of his mouth, because never in his long life did he make such an offer to anyone. Dom and he had always been enough, but he didn’t take his words back.
She lifted her chin, somehow managing to look contemptuous despite her state. “I have a name, you know.”
“You do, don’t you now?”
“It’s Aubrey. Aubrey Ansel.”
“Max, can we really take her home with us?” Dom asked as they made their way up the stairs again.
“Yeah. I don’t understand why I’m even agreeing to this. It’s unlike me.” Max glanced at the small bundle in his arms, where Aubrey was either asleep or unconscious. “The rest of the family’s going to have questions, but I’ll find a solution to work around it.”
* * * *
Years Later
Aubrey flared her wings open and landed gracefully on the window ledge in Max’s office. Her beak smashed against the thick glass, and if she were in human form, she’d probably be cursing by now. Was it so hard to leave one window open?
Above the Scavos Mansion, thunder rumbled and rain continued to lash at her feathers. Just great. She really hated flying in the rain and she hoped the tiny bit of paper tucked into the leather pouch attached to her left foot was still intact.
Using her beak, she tapped on the glass. Aubrey didn’t have to wait long. Seconds later, the window was pulled open and a hand wrapped in leather bits was extended for her to land on.
“You’re drenched,” Dom commented as she landed on his forearm.
Aubrey let out what she hoped was an annoyed caw. He chuckled, reaching out with his free hand to smoothen the wet feathers on her back. His callused and large hand didn’t feel heavy as he stroked her. Dom’s touch was gentle and soothing.
His forest-green eyes looked amused in his tanned and handsome face. Dom kept his thick mane of blue-black hair short, and it made his well-built and hard body always look professional and suave in his designer suits.
“Good girl, what do you have for us tonight?” He gently undid the straps of the pouch on her leg.
Good girl. Damn. Just hearing those words on Dom’s lips was enough to make her melt. Aubrey inhaled the musky masculine scent of him and wished suddenly he’d rubbed her back the same way when she was in human form. Dom would never do such a thing though.
Since Dom and Max rescued her years ago, the two werewolves had always been careful with her. Aubrey wasn’t exactly sure what she was to them. She was fourteen when they found her, but they’d never treated her like a child. Adopted pet was the best term, she supposed, because Aubrey made sure she remained useful to them by spying for them. There were other wolves in the house who did subterfuge work, but not as well as she did.
There were thousands of crows in the city, but only one of her. While there were bird shifters like the eagle and hawk shifters from House Scavos’s rival, the Perraults, crow shifters were rare as it turned out. Most shifters and supernatural beings in Stocoma City didn’t notice she was there.
Max had been more distant, but she understood by simply being there in their lives she placed them in a dangerous position. In House Scavos’s hierarchy, Aubrey ranked low because she wasn’t a werewolf.
Dom set her down on Max’s desk. Max Scavos looked as he always did, on the phone with someone else while he tapped a pen impatiently on a sheaf of papers. Even so, he always reminded Aubrey of a big golden predator. Max kept his dark blond hair trim and short like Dom, always making her aware of the strong l
ine of his jaw and the little scar there she’d like to someday lick.
He wore his favorite suit today, a dark midnight blue with a matching sky-blue tie, and it fit him like a second skin. She could see the coils of muscle under the suit, and often she found herself imagining how those amazing arms would feel like as they picked up her small frame.
She was eighteen now, but Aubrey’s experiences with men had been limited to the men who’d abused, used, and tortured her. She hadn’t been interested in the opposite sex. Not the boys who’d pawed after her at school or the werewolves in the house looking for a quick fuck. The only men she wanted were the only two men who’d decided they were never going to touch her out of some sense of twisted honor.
Annoyed, Aubrey opened her wings. Max gave her a warning look, but she only shook herself and wrung the rainwater off her wings. Max slammed the phone down and snarled at her.
“What the hell is your problem?”
To annoy him even further, Aubrey shifted on his desk. She wasn’t sure why lesser werewolves always looked in pain when they shifted. To her, trading one form for the next had always been easy. Max cursed, moving files and papers aside so she wouldn’t get them wet.
“You’re practically begging for punishment, aren’t you, little crow?”
Aubrey’s pulse sped up when Max’s large hand closed over one of her wrists.
Aubrey lifted her chin and met his feral gaze. Max’s control of his wolf was considered the best in the house, but she wasn’t sure why it always seemed to surface when she provoked him.
