Dawn till Dusk: An Urban Fantasy Romance (Genesis Crystal Saga Book 1)

by Becky Moynihan

  Table of Contents

  Cover Page

  Copyright

  Content Warning

  Dedication

  Pronunciations

  Quote

  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

  Acknowledgments

  About the Authors

  Text and Cover Design/Illustration

  Copyright ©2020 Feather Ink Publishing

  ©Tyffany Hackett and Becky Moynihan

  All rights reserved.

  ISBN-13: 978-1-7347972-1-3

  ISBN-10: 1-7347972-1-5

  Printed in the United States of America

  Feather Ink Publishing

  beckymoynihan.com

  tyffanyhackett.com

  All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted in any form or by any means—for example electronic, mechanic, photocopy, recording, or otherwise—without the prior written consent of the publisher. The only exception is brief quotations in printed reviews.

  This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events, locales, or persons—living or dead—is coincidental.

  • Cover Design by Becky Moynihan

  beckymoynihan.com

  • Ebook Design by Tyffany Hackett

  tyffanyhackett.com

  • Design Element Images via

  freepik.com

  Content Warning

  This is a New Adult series. While the language and gore are relatively minimal, we do invoke and address harder topics and issues. We try to handle them with sensitivity, but we want our readers to be aware that they are discussed, in case of potential triggers. <3

  Dawn till Dusk contain themes of child harm/death, reference to sexual assault, parental abuse, self-harm, and suicidal ideation.

  To the tomato haters of the world: tread carefully.

  No, really. Watch your step.

  You never know . . .

  Pronunciations

  Character Names:

  • Tarik — T-air-ik

  • Reagan — Ray-gan

  • Nevaeh — Nev-eye-uh

  • Mordecai — Mor-di-kye

  • Alec — Al-ik

  • Benji — Ben-gee

  • Haven — Hay-vin

  • Leilani — Lay-lon-ee

  • Jocelyn — Joss-ill-in

  • Sebastian — Seb-as-tee-in

  • Elias — Ill-eye-is

  • Micah — My-kuh

  • Malachi — Mal-uh-k-eye

  • Caspar — Cass-per

  • Akeno — Ah-ki-no

  • Flynn — Fl-in

  • Callie — Cal-ee

  Location/General:

  • Nathra — Nath-ruh

  • Daranil — Dar-uh-nil

  “Hatred paralyzes life; love releases it.

  Hatred confuses life; love harmonizes it.

  Hatred darkens life; love illuminates it.”

  — Martin Luther King, Jr. —

  Staying out past curfew and surrounding myself with enemies were two habits I needed to break.

  One of these days I’d wisen up, but not tonight.

  I yawned, wide enough to crack my jaw. The dim ambient lighting of the place made my eyelids droop, and the heavy stench of cigarette smoke dulled my usually sharp senses. What I wouldn’t give for a coffee right now.

  Coffee wasn’t served in the warehouse district, though. Only hard liquor and about every form of drug imaginable. To my right, a rainbow array of bottles lined a black shelf behind the bar. I looked away from the tempting assortment as a slim shape sashayed toward my table. The girl, long-legged and way too young to be working this joint, sidled up beside me and trailed her fingers along my exposed forearm. I stiffened, but she didn’t take the hint.

  “I’ve heard about you,” she purred, walking her pointed, red-lacquered nails up my bicep. Her other hand flicked aside strands of the red hair shadowing my face. I kept my expression neutral, reining in the sneer that threatened to twist my lips. She wanted something from me—all shifters did. But I wasn’t here for that. Never that. “Tarik. Or should I say ScarFae?”

  I hated that name. Why not just call me Scarface?

  The shifters who frequented The Pit loved their cheesy nicknames, though—the cheesier the better. But you’d think they could have come up with a more creative name for this seedy establishment.

  Practically everyone here went by a pet moniker. Pets. That’s what my race called them. Shapeshifters had one master and waited with pricked ears for his call, like obedient lap dogs.

  Sickening.

  “Go home,” I muttered, watching the girl from my peripheral. She was pretty—for a shifter. I could acknowledge that. But young. Too young. “This place will pick apart your flesh and spit out your bones when it’s finished with you.”

  Short fur suddenly darkened her soft pale cheeks. The pupils of her light brown eyes slitted. Long nails became talons, jabbing into my skin. I yanked my arm from her clutches and knocked my stool over as I stepped back. She laughed, the sound throaty and self-assured. “I’m not the one who should go home, Fae.”

  She walked away before I could, her miniskirt-clad hips swaying so hard, I wondered how gravity hadn’t taken her out by now. Most of her kind knew to avoid me on nights like these—she must have missed the memo. I came to The Pit for one purpose: to fight in the cages.

  I needed the release, the pure natural hum of adrenaline coursing through my veins. Better than any artificial drug. Sometimes I won, but more often than not, I lost. Didn’t matter. I would always be a loser in their eyes anyway. Lesser. They only put up with me because I was a curiosity—an anomaly. No other Fae dared step inside this shifter-infested den.

  “ScarFae, man, you’re up next,” someone yelled over the thumping music. A hand clapped my shoulder and I almost lost my cool. The worst part about coming down here was the touching—and the nakedness. Shifters had no shame.

  I strode through the scantily-clad crowd toward my assigned cage. A literal cage, with chain links and a steel lock keeping the fighters contained. I checked to see if my opponent was inside. He was. Stocky, tatted up, already vibrating with adrenaline from being surrounded by his kind. Typical shifter.

  After I slipped through the gate, a bouncer clicked the lock shut, sealing us inside. Besides being knocked unconscious, there was only one way to lose a cage fight: using your abilities. But that was a joke. Shifters carried their abilities with them wherever they went. They were naturally strong, even in human form. Their reflexes surpassed humans and Fae alike.

  That’s why Shapeshifters were top dog in this dirty city, and why I didn’t bother giving myself a pep talk. I wouldn’t win, but I would sink my fist into this shifter’s gut tonight—maybe break his nose if I was lucky. My blood sang a
t the thought.

  A voice boomed through the underground, shaking me from my growing bloodlust. “My fellow beasties and the rest of you foul creatures, next up is Wolf Man and his challenger, ScarFae!” He drew out my moniker, making the word sound tough. But my concentration was solely on my competitor. Wolf Man? I snorted. And I thought my nickname was lame.

  The barrel-chested dude must be a wolf shifter then. I held in a wince, already knowing how this night would end—with me limping home, a couple dozen bruises decorating my body. I was quick for a Fae—definitely faster than a human—but my tall, lean frame was no match for this guy’s muscular build. He was going to make puppy chow out of me.

  When his yellow eyes met mine, I gave him the slow lip curl, the one that always freaked out my competition. Like they thought I was preparing to cast a spell on them. I stifled an eye roll. Shifters and their superstitions. Somehow they’d gotten the idea that Fae were also witches. Ruffling their feathers—or fur—was far too easy. He flashed his teeth at me when nothing happened. What, did he expect a light show?

  Maybe he was hoping I’d reveal my wings. At the thought, an ache pulsed between my shoulder blades. I hadn’t released them in so long. The temptation was great—especially when I knew his reaction would be epic. But it wasn’t happening. He could grind me to minced meat and I still wouldn’t unleash my wings. The last time a Fae had broken the city’s wing ban rule, they’d been executed. A quick slice to the throat by the devil dragon himself.

  I didn’t want to go out that way.

  “You’re going down,” Wolf Man sneered.

  How cute. We were thinking the same thing.

  “I know.” I shrugged and he blinked, surprised. Point one for me. As the match began, there was no fanfare, no chick in a bikini to announce the rounds. Not even an official ref. At least I wasn’t forced to strip half naked, thank Gaia. That didn’t stop Wolf Man from doing so—he wore tight black shorts and nothing else.

  The sight burned my retinas.

  A rail thin man—ferret shifter was my guess—quickly recited the rules. Simple: knock out your opponent and win.

  “You two ready?” the man asked in a reedy voice. I nodded. “Then in five . . .”

  At that, a heady dose of adrenaline surged through my body.

  “Four . . .” I settled onto the balls of my feet. “Three . . .” My eyes found Wolf Man’s. I winked. His nose wrinkled. “Two . . .”

  Whatever you do, don’t stop. You’re the master of your pain.

  “One. Fight!”

  My vision bled red.

  Thoughts switched off.

  Instinct kicked in.

  Kill the shifter.

  I rushed forward, barreling my right shoulder into Wolf Man’s eight pack. He shuffled back a few steps, then flung me off him. I rolled but popped up, ready for more. Always more. I never wanted this feeling to end, this blinding blaze of hatred.

  He came at me. Swung a brick-sized fist. Missed. I slipped past his guard, driving my own fist into his unprotected side. A second later, I paid the price for getting so close to a dominant wolf shifter. He drove his elbow into my sternum.

  The impact almost caved in my bones and crushed my heart. I staggered but focused on my defense, ignoring the fire surging through my chest. The fight had just begun. I wouldn’t black out now. My body yearned to make contact with his, brutally, savagely. No mercy. Never mercy. None of them deserved mercy.

  Not after the way they had pinned her down and—

  Wolf Man struck at my face, but I blocked—kept my arms up, chin tucked close to my shoulder, waiting. My feet danced, taunting him. No one could dance quite like Fae-kind. I swiveled around the guy, sneaking in jabs from behind, from the sides. He threw his head back and bellowed as I made contact with the same spot on his ribs for the third time. A dusky bruise formed on his deeply tanned skin.

  “You’re slow,” I deadpanned, avoiding another killer swing. Given the opportunity, one of those hits would knock me out cold. And maybe I would never get up again. But wasn’t that what I wanted?

  “Hold still and fight me, you prancing pony,” he snarled and fell for my fake jab, leaving his ribs unprotected once more. What was with this guy? Dumb as toe jam. I rammed a fist into that dark purple spot, the impact splitting the skin at my knuckles. Sharp pain sped up my arm, sending my pulse into overdrive.

  Finally.

  After months of losing, I’d finally hit my stride. I could win this match now that my veins were engorged with the sweet thrill of revenge. No one could stop me, not when I felt like this. Invincible. Powerful. Stronger than a Shapeshifter.

  “Too bad you’re not allowed to show me the real you,” I taunted. Baited him. “Your human form is weak and pathetic.” He lunged and managed to snag a handful of shirt. The linen fabric tore, exposing a section of my torso and back. My scars. Pure rage fueled my next move as I whirled and leapt, my bare heel pounding his jaw.

  He roared. Several shifters outside the cage roared back. Good. Communicate. Connect to your animal. Change. Change! Black fur sprouted on his arms.

  “No abilities,” Ferret Man warned. But his words had no impact on the slowly-morphing beast man. Shifter’s strength lay in their animal forms, but therein lay their weakness. Sometimes they fell prey to their animalistic instincts, human rationalism but an annoying buzz in their furry ears.

  I was counting on that tonight.

  “Come out and play, little pup.” I crooked a finger at the now half man, half wolf. The fact that he hadn’t fully shifted was kind of impressive. At least he was smart enough to resist the urge. He was hideously ugly in this half form, though, large canines pushing past thinning human lips. His comrades shouted at him, demanding he change back, but he was too far gone.

  With a wicked grin, I launched myself at him.

  His claws lashed out and raked across my chest. That didn’t stop me. Ferret Man demanded we seperate. The match was over. Wolf Man didn’t hear him and I pretended not to either. The win wasn’t the prize, this was: fighting a fully-formed shifter.

  “Show me what you got,” I snarled, all bravado stripped away. I had what I wanted, what I needed, and I wasn’t going to waste this ripe opportunity. The human part of the man disappeared completely—only a large black wolf remained. The creature growled, baring massive teeth. I growled, too. “Fight me!”

  And then hands were suddenly on my biceps, holding me back. No. No! I struggled, shaggy hair slapping my cheeks as I twisted out of their grasp. But my moment was gone. Stolen from me yet again. Wolf Man was already more human than animal as his comrades coaxed the beast into his tattooed skin cage.

  My gut spasmed as the hair receded. Disgusting.

  “Wolf Man forfeits, you win. Get outta here before we string you up, Fae.” A wad of cash was shoved against my chest, scratching my new wounds. I barely felt the pain. I only wanted my fight, but the night was ending all too soon and I wasn’t satiated. When I didn’t leave, the hand on my chest pressed harder. “Don’t make me call the Night Enforcer again. Didn’t she threaten to tear your throat out last time?”

  “I’m not afraid of her.” I spat on the ground near the bouncer’s shoe and, surprisingly, he didn’t deck me.

  “You should be,” he continued, forcing me out of the cage. “Haven’t you seen her lion?”

  I hadn’t. All I’d seen was a tiny girl with a strong voice that couldn’t disguise her short stature. With a dismissive wave, I balled the money in my fist and pushed past the hovering crowd, making for the exit.

  This whole evening had been a colossal disappointment.

  I charged through the back door, not caring that the metal banged off the stairwell’s cement wall. My bare feet took the stairs two at a time, and a moment later, I burst free of the accursed underground. The damp night air sent a chill racing over my sweaty skin. Maybe I’d jog back to my apartment, release some of the excess fire in my veins before taking a cold shower.

  The dank alleyway
appeared deserted, spattered with rusted garbage cans and bits of trash no one ever picked up. On either side of me, the dull brick buildings covered in garish graffiti cast long shadows that hid rats and who knew what else. As my sharp Fae ears picked up a slight shuffling noise a few yards behind me, I slowed, making a show of studying a detailed Shapeshifter painting.

  The drawing was incredible, really, capturing the almost iridescent quality of pure white wings. Attached to the wings was the hulking body of a—

  “Fae trash, what are you doing loitering in shifter territory?” The comment was meant to offend, maybe even confuse, but I knew they had followed me from the underground. Knew that they hated the fact I had walked away with the win. With their betting money.

  I turned my back on that terrifying creature painted on the wall, and acted surprised. “Shifter territory? Is that what this rank craphole is?” I scratched my nose with my middle finger. “I should have known better. Even the dingiest part of the Fae slums doesn’t smell this bad.”

  I knew how they would react: like hot-headed idiots. All shifters were the same. My blood thrummed once again, excitement a live wire beneath my skin. The odds weren’t great—three on one—but I’d dealt with worse. At least the incessant rage I carried would be depleted tonight. I didn’t know if I’d make my early-morning shift on time, though, not with the world of hurt I’d soon be in.

  The largest of the three stepped forward, illuminated by a weak circle of orange light. He was bigger than Wolf Man. “What did you say, filth?”

  “I said,” I enunciated slowly, “that your territory smells like a sewer exploding with animal dung. Oh wait, that’s what you are. Animals. Does your kind not use bathrooms? I didn’t realize you were that primitive.”

  All three of their switches flipped like clockwork. Too easy. They prowled forward, fur of varying hues rippling along their tattooed forearms. They wouldn’t fully shift, though, I knew that much. In beast form, they couldn’t savor the pain that would soon be inflicted on me. I carefully rolled up the money and, with a smirk, slid the wad into my front pants pocket.