by Theresa Kay
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ALSO BY THERESA KAY
Broken Skies
Fractured Suns
Shattered Stars
www.TheresaKay.com
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, organizations, places, events, and incidents are either products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously.
Text copyright © 2019 Theresa Kay
All rights reserved.
No part of this book may be reproduced, or stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, or otherwise, without express written permission of the publisher.
Cover design by Christian Bentulan of Covers By Christian
eBook design by Inkstain Design Studio
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Chapter 19
Chapter 20
Chapter 21
Chapter 22
Chapter 23
Chapter 24
Chapter 25
Chapter 26
Chapter 27
About the Author
Acknowledgements
To Regan, who never stopped believing in this story (or talking me into writing when I just didn’t wanna :)
The thing about shifter parties is they’re really only fun for shifters . . . and maybe swingers. There’s no booze, everyone’s super touchy-feely, and couples or groups often disappear only to return slightly rumpled and smiling. Unfortunately for me, I’m neither a shifter nor a swinger, and it’s getting harder to remember why in the hell I let my cousin, Reid Donovan, convince me to come here. The party’s not a bad scene, a roaring bonfire, fresh air, good music, but it’s Sunday night and I have to work tomorrow. Plus, the jerk ditched me the second we got here so he could go be one of those disappearing couples with his girlfriend, Lana.
Last party of the summer or not, I would much rather be in bed right now than standing here alone watching shifters—most of whom I don’t even know—having fun around me. I’d leave, but Reid drove, and ‘random field somewhere off 151’ isn’t exactly an Uber pickup location.
When I find him, I’m going to wring his neck.
From the edge of the trees, I scan the shifters gathered around the bonfire, hoping to catch a glimpse of my auburn-haired cousin. No luck. There are no familiar faces of any kind, and I’m not interested in starting up a conversation with a complete stranger. Explaining my presence here and my relationship to the Blue Ridge regional alpha, my adoptive uncle Connor Donovan, is not something I feel like doing tonight. Being adopted into the pack does not a pack member make, and being a Blank—a person with two witch parents but no actual magic—adds an extra level of complication.
Don’t get me wrong, being taken in by Aileen and George, Connor’s sister and her husband, was the best thing to ever happen to me. Witches are supposed to raise their powerless children, but more often than not they foist them on unsuspecting humans. If I hadn’t been taken in by the shifters, I would have been stuck in the human world, and the minuscule bit of power I do have—a heightened sense of supernaturals—would have been more than a little confusing. But at the end of the day, I’m not a shifter. And, magic or not, if anyone here besides Reid knew my birth parents were witches, things might get a bit sticky.
I sigh and take a sip of my bottled water then cast another glance at the large group of shifters closest to me. They’re dancing, chatting, and generally having a blast. I can’t hear much of what they’re saying, but the bits of conversation I manage to catch are all about the upcoming school year. Most of them are off to the local high school, a few are headed to college, but one of them is headed to an OSA (aka the Order of Supernatural Affairs) training academy, quite a feat since very few OSA academies allow shifters.
I’m nearly eighteen, and if I were a witch, I’d probably be headed to one of the OSA academies as well, but instead I have my senior year of high school ahead of me. Technically, the academies are only for those supernaturals who want to join OSA or use their abilities as part of their future careers, but nearly all witch children end up attending. However, the Order of Supernatural Affairs doesn’t give a crap about me. I have nothing to offer them without magic. Though, I’m sure they’d be quite interested to know which one of the ‘upstanding’ covens abandoned a Blank infant on a shifter’s doorstep.
The wind changes direction, sending a cloud of smoke from the bonfire my way. Awesome. I’m going to smell like a campfire for the next three days. I cough and squint against the burning in my eyes. Time for me to find a new location to be bored out of my mind in. I drain the rest of the water, then toss the empty bottle in a nearby bin, and walk around the edge of the party until the haze of smoke no longer threatens to choke me.
It’s another ten minutes of not-so-subtle people watching before I catch sight of Reid and Lana returning from the woods on the opposite side of the fire. Finally. They’re red-faced, breathless, and wrapped in each other’s arms, both of them wearing wide grins. It’s sickeningly adorable.
I don’t begrudge my cousin his happiness. He’s also my best—and damn near only—friend, but I’d be lying if I said I’m not more than a little jealous he has a connection, a type of belonging, that I’ll likely never have with another person. I’ve had a couple human boyfriends, but nothing serious. Connor so far has been steadfast in his refusal to allow me to take the Bite, the only way for someone who isn’t born a shifter to become one, so I can’t be with a shifter. Witches pick only from among their own, something I never will and never want to be, not after my cowardly birth parents deserted me because they were ashamed of the fact I have no magic.
And vamps? No. Just no.
Lana catches my eye and waves before poking Reid with her elbow. He gives me a mock salute and tugs Lana in my direction, but the two of them are pulled into a conversation, their forward progress slowing before stopping completely. Wonderful. I’ll never get out of here if I don’t go over there and hurry him along.
I make my way in their direction, but when I’m halfway through the crowd, someone steps in front of me and forces me to stop. The unfamiliar shifter in my path shoots me a rakish grin, his dark eyes glinting with interest. His hair is a deep shade of black, only a few shades darker than mine, and he’s definitely attractive in that rugged, broad-shouldered way most shifters are. He’s also damn near powerful enough to become an alpha if he isn’t one already. In other words, not someone I should simply brush off. Insults between packs or pack members aren’t taken lightly.
And this is just the kind of social dance I spent the last two hours trying to avoid . . .
“Hi there,” he says, holding out a hand. “I’m Zeke.”
“Selene.” I take the offered hand, and the essence of his power prickles against my senses.
“You looked a little lonely standing by yourself over there.” He tilts his head toward the trees. “Fancy a run?”
Great. Now I need to come up with a polite way to clue this guy in on the fact that, despite my presence here, I’m not actually a shifter. I’m opening my mouth, most likely in preparation for putting my foot in it, when a heavy arm lands across my shoul
ders.
“Beat it, Zeke,” says Reid. “This one’s ours.”
Zeke narrows his eyes, and for a split second I think he might try to argue—two alphas almost always butt heads—but instead he simply shrugs and shakes his head. “No worries. I was just talking to her.” He rakes his gaze over me. “She’s that charity case the regional beta took on, right?”
My cheeks heat, and Reid stiffens.
Whether Zeke knew all along and was messing with me or he just now figured it out, I have no clue. Either way, what he said is not only an insult to me but an insult to the entire pack, including the boy standing next to me.
And because I’m technically the regional beta’s daughter and Reid is the future regional alpha, we can’t let this go. Oh the joys of shifter power plays . . .
Reid tilts his head toward me and speaks in a low voice, “You wanna handle this, or should I?”
My only answer is to slide out from under his arm and take three steps forward until I’m directly in front of Zeke. I’m a good six inches shorter than him, and the guy probably outweighs me by almost a hundred pounds. I wouldn’t be able to take him in an actual challenge even if he didn’t shift, but training with Reid and my parents has made me strong enough to handle what’s required for the petty slight Zeke threw my way.
“You’ve insulted me and my pack. I claim the right of first blood.” My voice is steady, but inside I’m some weird combination of pissed and scared out of my mind.
He laughs. He frickin’ laughs. “You . . . you . . . want to . . .” His words trail off in another fit of laughter. Finally, his shoulders still shaking with mirth, he straightens and holds his hands out at his sides. “Take your best shot then.”
I give him a predatory smile and slam the heel of my left boot onto the instep of his right foot. A sharp cross to his diaphragm has him huffing out more in surprise than in pain, but it also has him instinctively curling inward and leaning forward. I link my hands together behind his neck and hold his head down so I can slam my right knee into his nose with a solid crunching noise.
I relax my stance and take a step backward as he straightens with one hand over his nose, blood dripping down his chin. The broken nose will heal in the next two minutes or so, but it’ll probably hurt like a bitch until then.
Zeke grins. “Aren’t you full of surprises, little one?”
Reid clears his throat.
“Yes, yes, yes,” says Zeke, waving one hand through the air in a dismissive gesture. “I apologize for the slight and all that.”
I accept the apology with a dip of my chin, and a wave of relief washes over me. That wasn’t too bad.
Reid moves up behind me, placing his hands on my shoulders. “Run along now. Go find someone else to sniff after.”
Zeke’s gaze hasn’t left me, and where there was a kind of bland attentiveness in his eyes before, now there’s a flare of true interest. Shifters aren’t violent by nature, but power, physical or otherwise, turns them on, and that little challenge was practically foreplay. He grabs my hand and rubs the back of it down his cheek then flips my hand over and presses his nose to my wrist, his gaze never leaving mine. “If you ever decide to accept the Bite, please find me.”
A low rumble starts in Reid’s chest, but Zeke ignores the sound. He simply lets go of my hand and disappears into the crowd without another word.
Reid releases my shoulders. “Your right elbow came a little too far up, but otherwise that was perfect.”
“Really?” I poke him in the stomach with the offending elbow. “I pull off my first minor challenge—quite epically I might add—and you’re going to complain because my elbow wasn’t absolutely perfect?”
“It left your side open and took power away from the hit, so, yes, I’m going to complain. This was a minor challenge, and the guy wasn’t actually going to try to fight you. In a real fight, this wayward elbow”—he squeezes it—“could be the difference between winning and losing.”
“But I’m never going to be in a real fight, now am I?” I yank out of his hold and spin to face him, my words growing sharper as my prior irritation with him resurfaces. “Your dad won’t allow me the Bite, and no shifter will seriously challenge a human. Hell, if I hadn’t shown up here with you, reeking of alpha wolf, I wouldn’t have had to worry about insulting Zeke. I could have just told him to get lost. But no. I had to worry about how that might reflect on my pack, the pack that got stuck with me because their beta and her husband couldn’t bear to part with the infant abandoned on their doorstep.”
His brown eyes soften, and he pulls me into a hug. “We aren’t ‘stuck’ with you. Aunt Aileen and Uncle George love you like their own. My dad has done everything possible to treat you like one of the pack, and I know he thinks of you that way, as well as thinking of you as his blood niece. I don’t know why he won’t let you take the Bite. You’re old enough now to make the decision, and even though you’re not a Born wolf, you’re family. The only reason I can think of is that there are still risks, and if Aileen were to lose you . . .”
“Yeah. I know,” I say, my voice soft as I nod against his chest. Before they adopted me, Aileen and George lost a son and were never able to have any more children of their own.
A moment passes in silence, and then Reid releases me and leans back, the corner of his mouth curling upward. “So ‘reeking’? Isn’t there a better word you could have used?”
I shove him in the shoulder, a smile tipping up the corners of my mouth, then glance around at the various groups of people by the bonfire. “Where’s Lana? I thought you two planned to be attached at the hip for the remainder of the evening.”
“I saw you with Zeke and figured you might be in a bit of trouble. How did you end up on his radar?”
I shrug. “I didn’t search him out. He must have been watching me for at least a little while when I was standing by myself and then used my heading in his direction as an opportunity to talk to me. Who is he anyway? I’ve never seen him before.”
“I don’t know a lot about him, but I met him at a pack gathering last year. He’s from one of the higher packs in the Southwestern Virginia region. I forget which one.”
Not surprising. I definitely felt the near alpha level power coming off him. As much as I hate to admit it, I probably wouldn’t have confronted him without Reid at my back. Just because it’s illegal for shifters to attack humans doesn’t mean there isn’t the occasional hiker that goes missing or fight that gets out of hand. Much like in human society, not every shifter chooses to follow the laws. Attacking a witch is the worst crime of all, an automatic death sentence if caught, and lately that’s been happening way more than normal.
I shove Reid’s shoulder again. “Go get your girl.”
He wiggles his eyebrows. “Well, I’m supposed to meet her out behind the barn to—”
I wave frantically. “Okay. I got it. No need to explain further. I don’t need the mental image to go along with that. Can I have your keys so I can wait in the truck?”
“Sure,” he says as he pulls the keys from his pocket and tosses them to me. “You know how to get back to where we parked, right?”
“Yeah. Definitely.” I gesture vaguely in the direction we came from when we arrived. “It’s just through those trees over there.”
“Try not to get into any more altercations with shifters on the way, yeah?”
I roll my eyes. “I will give any shifters I run into a wide berth.” I poke him in the shoulder. “I’m giving you one hour. If you aren’t back to your truck by then, I’m driving it home. I can’t guarantee your clutch will make it through my attempt at driving stick, so you might want to be on time.”
“I’ve seen you try to drive my truck. You wouldn’t make it out of the parking lot.” He lets out a laugh. “I’ll see you in an hour. Thanks for coming out here with me.”
“Yeah, sure, whatever. Get moving. I’d like to see my bed before the sun comes up.”
He kisses the top of my head and
then wades into the crowd closer to the fire. After sneaking up behind Lana, he grabs her by the waist, lifts her into the air, then runs off toward the forest with her as she giggles. I smile as they disappear then make my way toward the narrow trail between the trees that leads to the gravel lot.
As I reach the end of the trail and the first line of cars, the sound of voices hits my ears. I glance up to see four shadowy forms ahead of me. By the looks of it, three of them are ganging up on the fourth—one shifter standing against three witches who have absolutely no business being here.
Reid told me not to get into any altercations with shifters, but how would he feel about me getting into an altercation with witches?
To say shifters and witches don’t get along would be a bit of an understatement. Especially in the past twenty years or so since the Coven Council has been pushing OSA, which governs all three supernatural races and deals with any conflicts between them, for more oversight of the shifters, something shifters are adamantly against. Some of them so much so that there are rumors about a group of renegade shifters who’ve been attacking witches. It’s a stupid thing to do, and it doesn’t help their cause, but no one’s been able to root out what pack or packs might be doing it. All I know is it’s not anyone from the Blue Ridge pack because Connor would never allow something like that to happen in his region.
But even though we’re currently on Blue Ridge pack lands, the already tense relationship between shifters and witches makes the little spat going on in the parking lot a bad idea on both sides: the three witches for being here at all and the shifter for not simply walking away.
Getting involved is probably a bad idea on my part too, but I recognize Bridget, a slender, preppy looking witch in the group, and I might be able to defuse the situation.
Bridget, who’s taking the lead in the argument, is from a midlevel witch family who owns a nearby horse farm. I have the misfortune of seeing her quite often at the coffee shop where I work during the summer months, but what she’s doing here is a complete and utter mystery.
