Haven City Series Books 7-9: Alpha's Gamble (Haven City Series #7), Alpha Enchanted (Haven City Series #8), Alpha's Cage (Haven City Series #9)

by Zoe Perdita

  Well, he found them, but getting back down there—

  A sudden round of applause broke the air, and Ken’s heart stood still. Was that the end of the tournament? Someone won. Hopefully Davis.

  The bears he’d seen on the docks rounded the corner a moment later, and Ken pressed himself into the shadows. There were three of them, and they rumbled to each other in hushed voices.

  Move, dammit! Ken silently commanded them. They didn’t, but someone else came around the corner to distract them.

  Davis.

  He gave them a hard glance and squared his shoulders while Ken bit his lip to keep from screaming. It’s not like Davis could talk his way out of this situation.

  Slowly, Ken pulled the phone from his pocket and texted Fei.

  Found the drugs. Send police.

  Next, he texted Davis.

  In the rafters. Found drugs. Distract them.

  Ken realized, after he sent it, that Davis could misinterpret that to mean the drugs were in the rafters, not Ken himself, but he didn’t have time to retype it. Not with the possibility of one of those bears spotting him.

  Then, with a long breath through his nose, he waited and tried not to move.

  “Hey, I was looking for the bathroom, but it looks like you guys are having a party back here. You see the game? Pretty intense, right?” Davis said, his voice light and cheerful, but it was all put on. Ken could tell. Davis tapped his fingers on his hip, and his smile was just too bright to be natural, at least when talking to Russian mobsters.

  The three bears glanced between one another and the largest one stepped forward. “You friend of Dmitri?”

  Davis shrugged. “I’ve played a few games with him. Drank some vodka. We’re friendly. Why? You think we should all go skiing?”

  The largest bear snorted and grabbed the front of Davis’s shirt. “We don’t like Dmitri. He’s a sneaky rat, and he’s friends with sneaky rats.”

  Davis smirked. “And what do you do to sneaky rats? Toss them in the river?”

  What the hell was he thinking? And why was he giving those assholes ideas?

  Ken fought the urge to run down and help, because if he did that he couldn’t check the crates. Still. Distract didn’t mean piss off!

  “No. Not the river. We have better idea,” the big bear said and shoved Davis hard.

  Davis stumbled, but he didn’t fall. He took several steps back, and Ken hoped Davis knew what he was doing, and that those bears weren’t armed.

  Once they turned the corner, Ken waited three beats before he slipped along the edge of the walkway. A ladder on the other side of the room led right onto the top of the crates.

  Very suspicious.

  Those crates had to hold something the bears didn’t want anyone else to know about. Like drugs. Perfect plan, really.

  His palms sweat so badly he nearly slipped on the first rung, but he caught himself. However, a loud clang rang in the air. Even with the general chatter from the main room, Ken knew the bears heard it. He didn’t waste time waiting for them to catch him. He slithered down the last few rungs and dropped with a thud onto the wooden crates.

  Without a moment to think, he scrambled over the edge and lifted a crate lid. Well, he tried to lift it, but they were nailed down. And it’s not like Ken carried around a crowbar just for that eventuality.

  A shout rang from the other side of the crates followed by a low snarl.

  Had someone shifted?

  Davis?

  Dammit!

  Ken’s heart thundered and his mind raced. He grabbed the corner of the crate and lifted with all his strength. The board splintered, cracked, then popped free of the nails.

  Another shout.

  The sharp odor of gunpowder bit into the stuffy air.

  At least he didn’t smell blood.

  Ken reached into the crate, shoved aside the paper packaging material and pulled out a Russian stacking doll. He popped it open, and a bag of amber crystals fell out. The sweet scent of opium came with them.

  This was it.

  The drugs.

  Ken sagged against the crate and took a deep breath.

  Now, they had to get out before the cops caught them.

  Easier said than done.

  A man’s nose stuck over the top of the crates, followed by the muzzle of a gun.

  Ken moved. He wasn’t sure what possessed him to shift, perhaps some inner survival instinct that never kicked in until that precise moment. It ruined his suit (thankfully, it wasn’t his best suit, but the thought still stung). He jumped toward the bear.

  Which was the exact opposite of survival if he’d ever heard of it.

  Bang!

  The gunshot rang through the air, and Ken’s teeth sunk into the bear’s hand. The man pulled back and screamed, yanking Ken with him.

  Ken toppled over the crates, landed on top of the man and bounded off his head, the taste of blood thick on his tongue. Ken bounded around the corner and ran right into Davis, who stood with wide brown eyes and an expression torn between amusement and relief. A new bruise marred the side of his face.

  The bear Ken bit scrambled to his feet and charged. That, combined with the wail of police sirens, cut off their happy reunion.

  Davis pointed toward the bathroom and held up a duffel bag.

  Ken ran but a hand grasped his tail and pulled. Ken yelped and kicked, turning to bite the bastard. The pain shot up his spine. His claws dug into the wooden floor and held. If that asshole pulled off his tail—

  Davis growled. He swung his fist first, and caught the bear in the teeth. Next, Davis’s foot jabbed the man right in the gut, and the bear let out a puff of air. He didn’t double over as much as he should’ve. However, at least the bastard released Ken.

  Only, now his attention was aimed solely on Davis.

  Not good.

  Especially when the other three bears flanked the first one.

  Ken nudged Davis’s legs. The only way to survive was to run.

  Davis spun around, and they both charged into the bathroom.

  “I won,” Davis whispered as he slammed the door and slid the lock into place.

  A bear rammed into it, but the lock held.

  For now.

  If they got outside they’d be safe.

  The last weight on Ken’s heart lifted.

  Davis hefted Ken through the window and climbed out after him.

  Ken paced on the pier.

  The police sirens blared, closer and closer.

  As Davis dropped next to him, the wood cracked and the bathroom door burst open.

  A bear roared.

  They ran.

  They ran until all the warehouses and police and bears were behind them for good.

  Ken’s heart throbbed and his muscles burned, but he ran beside Davis until they cleared the docks and tumbled into the woods at the edge of town.

  Davis dropped the bag, fell to his knees and laughed as Ken lapped at his face.

  They did it.

  They were free.

  Davis Harrison might ruin things, but he had a way of gluing them back together. The cracks still showed, but it gave Ken’s life the character it’d have otherwise lacked.

  That’s what Ken told himself when Davis handed over his winnings to Jin with a smile on his face the day after the tournament. One hundred grand, plus interest.

  The police found the drugs and arrested all of the bears responsible, so Jin Yue no longer had a problem with them. In fact, as a matter of good faith, Jin offered to use the extra money for Tyler. He provided a new spot for Ty’s tattoo business, right in Chinatown, with a trendy store front and a better chance of finding clients. It even had a roomy one bedroom apartment on the second floor that overlooked the river.

  Of course, Jin acted like it was because he was tearing down the old building, so he was buying out those who rented it already. But Ken wasn’t sure that was the case.

  When Davis told Tyler about the offer, Tyler agreed, moodily.
>
  Davis even admitted Ken’s condo was the best location for both of them, even if he didn’t love the gray walls. The neighborhood was good, and he liked the kitchen—not something Ken expected Davis to say, but he wasn’t going to complain.

  All in all, having a best friend as his mate worked out differently than he’d imagined in his fantasies, but the differences were good.

  Real.

  Not perfect, but perfection didn’t exist.

  Several weeks after everything was settled, they invited themselves over to Ty’s for a housewarming dinner that Davis offered to cook.

  Tyler tried to refuse, but Ken said he wouldn’t hear of it. The Harrison brothers were going to make up at some point. Sooner. Later. It didn’t matter. Ty had to give Davis a chance. And he had to accept that Ken and Davis were mates.

  Davis bristled around the edges when they stepped up to the door of Ty’s new apartment that night. His hair was brushed with snow, and Ken smiled at him.

  Beamed.

  “I got the steaks and the vegetables. Do you think he still likes potatoes?” Davis asked. He peeked inside one of the canvas bags he’d packed and wrinkled his nose. He checked the bags five times before they left the condo.

  “Yes! You brought the cruelty-free buffalo?” Ken nudged his shoulder.

  “How can killing something be cruelty-free? Unless the buffalo was dying of natural causes. In which case, I don’t want to eat it,” Davis said, grinning down at him.

  “That’s the same thing I thought when I found them.”

  “See? We have more in common than you know,” Davis said and reached for him. “Like, we both work with numbers. We enjoy sex with each other.”

  Ken snorted but stepped into the embrace. Those strong arms surrounded him, warmed him, in the freezing air.

  Tyler frowned when he opened the door. “Get a room,” he grumbled but let them both inside without further delay.

  Ken told himself his cheeks flushed from the change in temperature and not Tyler’s scowl. He shrugged off his coat, and Davis held up the bag. “Buffalo, potatoes and something green that Ken insisted on. Antigua?”

  “Arugula. Antigua is an island in the Caribbean,” Ken said.

  Davis’s grin grew, perfectly lopsided. “Sounds like a nice place for a honeymoon.”

  If Ken had a glass of wine, he’d have drank the whole damn thing. “Honeymoon?”

  Tyler’s frown deepened. “You’re not getting engaged at my place. Just cook me dinner and get out if that’s what you want.”

  “We don’t have to be engaged. We’re mates, Ty. You’ll understand when you find yours,” Davis said.

  It would’ve sounded wise, if the words weren’t coming from Davis’s mouth.

  “Shut up. You’re an idiot who didn’t realize who your mate was for years so don’t lecture me about that shit,” Tyler said and plopped on the couch. It was new. A present from Ken for the move. Plus, the old one smelled like mildew and had too many disgusting stains that Ken didn’t want to know the origin of.

  Ken mussed Tyler’s hair as he walked past. That old sting didn’t hurt as badly. Hardly at all, now. “He finally did realize it. And Antigua sounds nice, but what about Italy?”

  Davis pulled the food from the bags. “Are you asking because it’s romantic or because of the wine?”

  “Both,” Ken admitted, leaned up and brushed his lips across Davis’s rough cheek. He could do it whenever he damn well pleased, and he couldn’t imagine tiring of it.

  Not now.

  Not ever.

  With the smile Davis gave him, Ken knew his mate felt the same way.

  Alpha Enchanted

  Haven City Series #8

  1

  Everyone in the room thought Quinn Winters was insane. Even Dr. Ross, who was one room away. Sometimes, at moments like this, Quinn wondered if they were right.

  He leaned back in the uncomfortable waiting room chair, the ones that made it impossible to do anything with his long legs, and crossed his arms over the gray button up shirt.

  It wasn’t his shirt. Nothing was his, but it fit well enough. It was slightly snug so the buttons pulled the fabric a bit, but that seemed to be the style for certain men. The jeans were snug too, and those ugly slip-on white tennis shoes were just slightly too big. They slipped off his heel when he walked, which gave him blisters that then healed and reformed on a weekly basis. The shoes were the only things Bradley Montgomery, the light mage who kept Quinn prisoner, bought for him.

  That morning, Bradley had been unhappy with Quinn again. Of course, that wasn’t unusual. Bradley Montgomery was mostly unhappy since he was the only member of the Montgomery family left, and Quinn was entirely his responsibility now. Not only that, but Quinn’s magic had been declining, which meant Bradley’s magic declined with it.

  And if Quinn’s magic faded enough, Bradley had little reason to keep him around the house twenty-four hours a day. That meant he might actually listen to Dr. Ross for once.

  A cold, dark knot coiled in Quinn’s belly. He’d rather be dead than shoved into the place Dr. Ross thought suited him.

  The woman behind the desk, Sarah, glanced at him when she thought he wasn’t looking with a pretty yet wary smile. Her expression was always full of pity and a tinge of regret, though the latter wasn’t aimed at Quinn himself. She was probably disappointed that someone like him was certifiable.

  His kind tended to attract humans, even when he wasn't in his true form. However, he couldn't complain about his human shape either. It wasn’t nearly as crude as some. From the looks Sarah gave him, and the mirrors that studded the prison where he lived, he knew what they saw in him.

  “Mr. Winters. Dr. Ross is ready for you,” Sarah said and gave him another tight smile as her gaze drifted from his face to his chest.

  Quinn smiled pleasantly and sauntered into the office. Dr. Ross had redecorated recently with brand new brown leather chairs and dark stained furniture. The man himself, squat and pudgy with beady eyes beneath his wire-framed glasses, watched Quinn enter carefully.

  “Take a seat, Quinn. We have a lot to discuss today.”

  Quinn didn’t do as he was told. He walked to the window and leaned on the generous sill. Behind him, the mixture of modern high-rises and art deco apartment buildings that dotted Haven City’s downtown towered around them. In the distance, the view faded toward the river in one direction and the colorful Victorian neighborhoods in the other. “I don’t sit on the skin of dead cows. It’s gruesome.”

  Dr. Ross jotted something in his notebook. “And why is it gruesome?”

  Quinn pouted. These meetings were a waste of time, well, if his time could be wasted. It really couldn’t, considering the circumstances that brought him here. And at least he got away from that prison for a while, but coming to therapy didn’t feel like much of a reprieve, especially with Dr. Ross eyeing him carefully—the same hint of pity in his eyes. The entirely wrong type of pity.

  It’s not as if Quinn could tell the truth either. Even if he could, they’d think he was even crazier since the ‘they’ in question were all humans who didn’t know a damn thing about the world of shadow folk living right under their noses.

  “You know why,” Quinn said and looked out the window.

  Dr. Ross’s pen scratched across the paper. “Does this have to do with the magical shadow world? The one only you can see?” he asked slowly, like he was speaking to a child.

  Which, when talking to a creature as noble as Quinn (who was actually closer to thirty than three, but Dr. Ross didn’t care about that) was distinctly insulting.

  Quinn smiled and tugged at the thin chain necklace that hung from his neck. No one else could see it besides Quinn himself and the man who controlled his fate: Bradley Montgomery. “It’s not just my magical world. Plenty of others subsist in it, and you see it every day. You see me right now.”

  Dr. Ross nodded. Scribbled. Quinn just made out what it said. Over the years he’d learned to read that
sloping script upside-down. It nearly haunted his dreams.

  No improvement.

  “You look human to me,” Dr. Ross said and pushed his glasses up his pig-like nose.

  “Don’t insult me like that. I’m not such a simple being,” Quinn said and waited.

  Scratch. Scratch. Scratch.

  Narcissism getting worse. Institution? Different meds?

  “And what are you, Quinn?”

  Dr. Ross regarded him, and Quinn bristled up and down his spine. He pushed the hair behind his ear. It was as pale as that of his true form, and his eyes were as otherworldly as well, but of course a man like Dr. Ross would never think that perhaps some bit of truth could come from Quinn’s words.

  It was all part of the cage that held him, and that part wasn’t even magic, infuriatingly.

  The magic did keep him from speaking of his actual plight and that included divulging his real form to anyone. Even worse, his very own nature worked against him at moments like this. Lies didn’t slip off his tongue, but he could twist things if the need suited him.

  Like now.

  “I could be a griffin. Or a dragon. Yes. Imagine if I were a great dragon. I’d set your head on fire. Then you’d believe me.”

  Dr. Ross’s face turned tomato red.

  Scratch. Scratch. Scratch.

  Threat of violence.

  “Is that really what you want to do? Set my head on fire?”

  “Yes,” Quinn said and smiled. “That would work.”

  The man’s fingers worked faster, the pen pressed into the paper so hard Quinn thought it might rip. “Do you have violent thoughts toward others? Bradley said you jumped into the lake with all of your clothes on again.”

  “I was trying to drown myself. It didn’t work. It never works, and that’s the shame. I don’t really want to die, I just don’t want to—don’t want to—” Quinn’s throat closed up, and he frowned at his fisted hands. He knew it was no use, and yet he kept trying.

  Stubbornness. That was it. The inability to give in.

  Montgomery senior often said it was one of his worst traits, along with the selfishness and that ever-present arrogance.