Havenfall Harbor: Book One

by Albany Walker

  “How far is Bakersville?” Quinn questions once Evan and I are seated.

  “Not too far, twenty minutes or so,” I tell her, as Evan pulls out of the garage. I’m tempted to turn around so I can watch her, but that would be creepy, even by my standards.

  Quinn

  We reach the gate quickly. Evan hits a button on the ceiling of the car above the rearview mirror and the gates open slowly. He makes a left turn and pushes the button again to close the gates. I watch the fence line as we speed by. The black metal sticks out against the lush green grass and trees on the other side. Within a minute or two, we approach an intersection. The fence line continues, turning to the left while Evan heads straight forward after slowing for the stop sign. There’s no other traffic, so he rolls through and picks up speed again.

  I know the area is pretty rural from my journey here, so it doesn’t surprise me that I don’t see very many mailboxes or homes along the road for quite a while.

  The sign for Bakersville township brings hints of life. I scoot into the middle seat so I can see better, and Evan’s eyes find me in the rearview mirror. “This okay?” I ask, breaking the silence of the ride so far.

  “You’re good,” he assures me before focusing back on the road.

  “Where are we headed first?” I settle back, watching the little town come into view in front of me.

  “I thought I’d park and we could walk around a bit. Check out the town.” Evan shrugs his shoulders and looks over at Griffin as if to see how he’s going to respond, but he doesn’t react at all.

  We park on a downtown street in front of a row of brick and adobe style buildings. The colors on the awnings and trim are a bit faded from the sun, but it just makes it seem more authentic somehow. There’s a candle shop and a small restaurant, along with a coffee shop called Cool Beans. I can’t read the other signs, but it seems half touristy, half typical small town.

  Both guys meet me on the sidewalk. It’s still early, so other than the coffee shop, everything seems closed up. “Mind if I grab a drink?” I motion toward the entrance.

  “After you.” Evan grabs the door, holding it for Griffin and me. The smell of fresh coffee envelops me as we enter. There are several tables—mostly all empty—some with checker games or worn cards strewn across the top.

  I make my way over to the counter, noting the glass display that has a few pastries and doughnuts inside. A green chalkboard high on the wall behind the single register lists several drinks in various sizes.

  A middle-aged man comes out from the back, wiping his hands on the black apron tied around his waist. The guy’s eyes land on me briefly before going over my shoulder. Evan and Griffin are behind me, but it’s not like I can do much to block this guy’s view of them. For one, they’re both several inches taller than me, plus their presence is kind of hard to miss.

  The guy averts his gaze and looks down at the counter. “Morning, how can I help you?”

  “May I have a black tea, honey, no milk?” I twist so I can see Evan and Griffin. “You guys want anything?”

  “Coffee, black.” Griffin steps forward so he’s at the counter with me, while Evan shakes his head in denial, staying put.

  “To go cups or…?”

  “To go is good.” I look at Griffin to make sure he’s okay with that, and he doesn’t object so I assume he’s fine.

  Instead, he says, “I’ll wait.” And tips his head back, silently telling me to join Evan. I want to roll my eyes at him, but I feel like this is him trying to be helpful.

  Before going, I reach into my purse and pull out a ten-dollar bill, laying it on the counter. “My treat.”

  Griffin turns his head slowly and lasers those impossibly turquoise blue eyes on me. “No,” is all he says. No explanation, not a thanks anyway, just no.

  Evan steps up close behind me while I’m in a stare off with Griffin. “Did you see this?” He draws my attention from grumpy Griffin. Ha, I think I’m going to start calling him GG.

  I leave the bill on the counter and pivot to focus on Evan. His hand is lifted, pointing to a mural painted on one of the walls. I let him draw me away from Griffin and to the painting. We pass by a couple sitting on a loveseat. I can feel their eyes on us, but I ignore it.

  “This is Havenfall.” He points to a small, grand building on the map surrounded by greenery. I lean in closer and examine the painting. The detail is exquisite, you can even see the black fence surrounding the estate. It really gives me an idea of the massive size of the property. As I let my eyes study the rest of the wall, I see rivers and creeks intersecting into larger bodies of water, and the beginnings of mesas near the Rocky Mountains. The town of Bakersville sits near the middle of the landscape, the buildings resembling multicolored rectangles, but you can still see the detail put into each storefront.

  “Wow, this is amazing.” I glance at the bottom corners to see if the artwork has been signed. Sure enough, the right corner has some scribbling and the year 2001 noted.

  Griffin walks over with a cup in each hand and offers me the smaller of the two. His eyes scan the wall quickly. I glance around and note a few other small painted murals. The couple on the loveseat pretends they aren’t still watching us, looking away quickly. I pat my hair down and push a piece behind my ear, wondering what they could find so interesting.

  Griffin leads the way out of the shop soon after, holding the door for Evan and me as we exit. “Where to next, tour guides?” I blow into the small hole on top of the cup before taking a sip. I let out an appreciative hum. It’s good, hot but not scalding, with just the right amount of honey and not too strong.

  Evan looks in both directions and motions to the left. “This way?” Without any real destination, we stroll past the stores as they all start to open for the day. Eyes follow us as we go. I’m stationed between the two men, and both are good-looking enough to turn some heads, but it’s not just women watching us. Eventually, we reach the end of the row of stores. There’s a large, green area with a few tables out in the open, and a metal gazebo structure with a bright red roof in the middle. We make our way over to one of the farthest tables, half in the shadow of the gazebo. Griffin pours himself onto the bench without an ounce of effort, making it look elegant while I lift my leg and get my shoe caught on the concrete bench before I can hop on one foot to get my leg under the table. Evan places his hand on my back to steady me as I clumsily sit down.

  “Why do I feel like we just walked through a fishbowl?” I have my cup up to my mouth, half obscuring my face. “Everyone is watching us.”

  “Not everyone, they haven’t looked at us once.” Griffin motions to a teenaged couple, their faces are close together as they study a phone screen. The boy chuckles and the girl gives him a slight jab in the ribs with her elbow. The boy looks over then and steals a sweet little peck from the girl before they both resume watching the phone.

  “Probably watching the YouTube,” I mock playfully, but I forget that Evan and Griffin are probably too old to get the reference.

  “Nah, probably Pornhub.” I nearly spit out my tea at Evan’s words. The huge smile on his face says he knew exactly what he was doing. I end up using the sleeve of my shirt to blot my lips—my mother would have a stroke if she saw me.

  “So it’s true what they say?” I cock my head to the side and give him a Bambi stare.

  “What’s that?” Griffin places his elbows on the cement tabletop.

  “Men never really do get past adolescence,” I tease.

  The corners of Griffin’s mouth droops into a heavy frown. I think I’ve offended him. I open my mouth to tell him I was just joking and apologize—I keep forgetting he’s my freaking boss—but he leans over the table so he’s closer to me, and says, “Anytime you want to test that theory, I’m available.” My stomach tightens. It’s not so much what he said, but how he said it. His voice is pitched low, slightly growly. I cover my hot cheek with my hand and avert my gaze before forcing out a chuckle. It ends out sounding way
throatier than I intended.

  Griffin

  Shit, Quinn is embarrassed and turned on. I can actually sense the blood rushing to her nipples and between her thighs. I may not be able to scent her the way a shifter could, but being a vampire allows me to hear even the slightest change in her heart and blood flow. Venom hits my tongue with the need to taste her.

  Evan clasps his hand on my shoulder and gives me a rough shake. I hadn’t even realized I was moving to stand up. Hell, this woman has me acting like I’m newly blooded.

  “Are you done with your tea? Want to walk up the other side?” Evan suggests, releasing my shoulder once he knows I’m back under control.

  Quinn stands, and my eyes are drawn to her ass as she leans over the table to pull her legs over the bench. “Sure, let me toss this, are you done?” Her clear blue eyes land on me for a second. I hand her my cup—making sure our fingers touch—even though I’ve barely drank any. It’s not like I need to, it’s just something I do for normalcy, and I do quite like coffee.

  The blush on her cheeks reignites as she takes my cup and walks rather quickly over to a large, green metal trash can. “Didn’t you just warn me that I was scaring her?” Evan keeps his eyes locked on Quinn, even though she’s only a few feet away from us.

  “That was not fear, my friend.”

  Evan tips his head back and lets out a chuff of a laugh at my words. I smile along with him and my face freezes. How long has it been since I’ve felt this way? How long has it been since he’s felt this way? Have we ever? It’s a sobering thought, considering we’ve been friends for ages. I hadn’t realized until this moment we were both more like two miserable old bastards who needed each other. I don’t think we’ve done anything but spar and eat together, which would make us real friends, yet he is my best friend.

  Quinn returns to us, the redness on her cheeks gone, but her eyes are bright as she volleys her gaze between us. “What did I miss this time?”

  I open my mouth to say something meaningful, to let her know how she just rocked my fucking existence and all she did was make me smile and my friend laugh, but I don’t know how to put that into words that wouldn’t scare her. Humans don’t understand what it means to be blood sung, or mated for that matter. If I told her we’re planning on spending the rest of our lives with her, she would probably think I was crazy and file a restraining order.

  The rest of our lives. That thought echoes in my head. At some point she’ll start to age, she could even die in only a handful of decades. Countless other scenarios run through my mind, all ending with her death. She’s so fucking fragile. How the hell am I supposed to deal with that and not do something about it right now?

  I clench my fist to keep myself from reaching out and dragging her against me, a snarl poised in my throat at the thoughts running through my head, and she’s not even in any real danger right now.

  “Just Griff stating the obvious,” Evan replies, while I contemplate all the ways I could give her my blood without her even having to know, but I kill that line of thinking before it can go any further. Even I know that would be wrong to do without her consent, not to mention it could very well turn her into a scion if I wasn’t very careful.

  “Do you mind if I run over there?” Quinn looks over her shoulder and points to a dark little shop that has Celtic symbols hanging in the window.

  “We all can,” I offer, and I’m proud that my voice sounds halfway normal.

  “It’s a sweater shop,” she warns with a twist of her lips. I inspect the store again. Chunky Funky is scrolled across the awning, and there’s a crescent moon behind the words. Wolves.

  “Okay,” I tell her.

  Quinn must take my words to mean that she should just go alone, because she says, “Okay, I won’t be too long, should I meet you somewhere?”

  “We’ll come with you,” I reiterate.

  “Uh, okay.” She spins on the toe of her sneaker and heads across the street. I scan the people around us. She’s right, almost everyone is watching us, or her. Not many humans come to Bakersville, it’s a supernatural run town. It wasn’t always that way. As more and more kids left Havenfall, they would come here, and as the years passed, the humans either moved away or lived among us. The supernatural population is so high now, most humans avoid the area without even understanding why.

  Half of them are probably wondering what she’s doing with us, while the other half are probably wondering why we’re here with her. It’s not like Evan or I never come to town, but we don’t sit in the fucking park and drink coffee. We may go to the bar or a restaurant, but that’s about it.

  Quinn is a few steps ahead of us when I lean over and ask Evan, “Who runs the shop?” He’ll know it’s a shifter business. Just like I know it’s Morey who owns the barbershop on the corner.

  “Rachael.” The one name says so much.

  “You want to wait outside?” I offer, knowing I’d never let Quinn in there by herself now, not when Rachael will know the moment Quinn walks through that door that she’s been close to Evan.

  “Nah, better if I’m there. She won’t say anything if I am.” I’m not so sure I believe that, subtlety has never been Rachael’s forte.

  Because we hang back to talk, Quinn reaches the door first and hauls it open. With a wave of her little hand, she urges Evan and me to enter. I reach for the door above her head and give her a look, not happening. With a small shrug, she ducks under my arm and heads inside.

  “Shit,” Evan curses under his breath when I see the top of Rachael’s red head pop up from behind a counter.

  Rachael is pretty, beautiful really, but she thinks that beauty allows her to be an asshole. Or maybe she’s just an asshole, I don’t know. I never cared to get to know her, not even when she and Evan were together.

  Quinn doesn’t pay the woman giving her the evil eye any mind. Her fingers are busy trailing over racks and rows of finely knitted Irish goods. She pulls out a burgundy sweater. It’s long and open down the front with a sash around the waist.

  I can picture her in the sweater, nothing but the sweater, the tie loose over her hips so her thigh is exposed with every movement, the top gaping apart enough to show the soft skin between her breasts all the way down to her navel where the fabric is held together with that scrap of material.

  “Shopping?” Rachael puts a whole lot of disdain into that one word, dragging me out of my little fantasy.

  Quinn turns, a slight upturn to her lips, and puts the sweater back on the rack. She’s getting that fucking sweater, and someday I will see her in it just like I imagined. “Yes, browsing,” she responds.

  Rachael rolls her eyes, but Quinn doesn’t notice. “I didn’t know you were doing personal security work now, E.” Rachael places her hand on her curvy hip and cocks out her long leg.

  Quinn peers over from the side, her brow furrowed as she moves a little deeper into the store. It’s obvious that Rachael and Evan know each other, and Quinn seems to be trying to give them some space, but she’s curious too, she’s keeping close enough to hear their words. I trail along behind her, not giving a shit about Rachael other than to make sure she doesn’t do anything to bother Quinn. When I pass the rack with the sweater she was admiring, I tug it off and drape it over my arm. My fingers trail over the soft yarn, imagining how it will feel against her skin.

  Quinn’s gaze is drawn to me and the item in my arms. I raise my brow when her eyes meet mine questioningly. I dare her to ask what I’m doing, but she looks away. I smile, but it’s a smile born of conquest. I love that I never know how she’s going to respond to me. One second she could be in my face railing at me, the other she hides her blush like she knows exactly what I’m thinking, or maybe it’s her own thoughts that cause the reaction.

  “Trying a new look?” She darts her eyes to mine, sparkling with amusement.

  I don’t respond, instead I lower my chin and run my gaze over her. The look does the trick, Quinn bites her bottom lip before pretending to focus back on
another rack, but her eyes keep flicking in my direction.

  “I’m not working.” Evan’s tone is gruff, and I almost smile. He rarely sounds so bothered. He doesn’t try to deny the personal security jab though.

  “Did you come to see me?” Rachael softens her tone, inching closer to Evan.

  Smartly, Evan doesn’t back up, but he does cross his arms over his chest and send a glare at the redhead. His look alone should tell her he’s not messing around, but he adds a firm, “No,” too.

  Rachael stops in her tracks and looks over her shoulder, putting Quinn back in her sights. There was never much between Evan and Rachael. He told me the sex was fantastic, but not much else. She’s an alpha in her own right, and I’m reasonably sure she wanted to be with him because Evan is one of the strongest alphas I’ve met. He could control a pack half the size of California if he chose to. Together, they would have dominated, but that’s not what Evan wants. That would be too much like his father.

  Evan broke it off with Rachael when she hinted that she wanted to bond, and made it clear he wasn’t interested. She seemed to take it okay, maybe it was because she knew there wasn’t anyone else. Clearly, that’s not the case anymore. I watch Rachael’s head tilt back as she drags in a deep inhale. When she lowers her chin, she narrows her eyes on Quinn.

  Evan lashes out and grabs a hold of Rachael’s upper arm. She freezes and slowly looks over her shoulder at Evan. He’s a good six inches taller than her, so her head tips back to make eye contact. “Don’t,” he warns. “Not ever,” he finishes, still gripping her arm.

  Rachael’s face pinches into a sneer, but she breaks eye contact and lowers her head in a submissive move.

  He releases her then and walks right past her to join Quinn, who’s looking through the racks. I keep my eyes on Rachael. When her eyes lift, she glares at Evan’s back, but quickly retreats to the counter as if nothing even happened.

  “Find anything?” Evan places his hand gently on Quinn’s lower back. It’s a deliberate move, much like the one I did with Noah.