“Fuck a duck,” I whispered as my mind spun with the possible scenarios.
My panicked brain was screaming that my pack had found me. The Alpha of North America had tracked me down, and he was waiting in this Grayhaven town with his ten werewolf enforcers. This bus driver had been paid off to drop me straight back into my alpha’s waiting arms. But if my alpha had found me, he’d have had us pull over on the freeway. Hell, he might have the local police do it. He had powerful connections in the human world as well as the supernatural one. More than likely, this bus was stopping off for an unscheduled refueling, but even that was dangerous. Every single time the bus doors opened, was another chance that I’d be scented by werewolves.
I hunched down in my seat, unzipped the top pocket of my bag and curled my fingers around the handle of my gun. My palm was slick against the grip of a small semi-automatic. I was an omega, the least dominant wolf in any pack. I couldn’t fight another werewolf, but I sure as hell could shoot one.
The bus exhaled under me as we pulled into a dark, dilapidated station that claimed to be the Grayhaven Bus Terminal. Trying to keep my breaths as even as I could, I tensed for an attack.
The doors opened with a whooshing sound, and the odor of piss and unwashed bodies wafted up, making my empty stomach flip.
I could smell old beer, piss, mold, bleach, and cheap perfume, but no… werewolf. I sat up in my chair to peer out the tinted window of the bus.
Bracing myself for the putrid mixture, I inhaled deeply again, and again, there was not even the slightest trace of werewolf musk. It was the first city since Arizona where I didn’t smell even a whiff of werewolf. The bus stop sign blinked over my head, shining upon piles of trash and the homeless sleeping under the detritus.
Tingling adrenaline spiked through me, kicking me in the stomach. It was the feeling I got every time I settled in a town, and it was strange because I hadn’t even considered disembarking into Grayhaven. Even if there wasn’t a sitting pack here, the risks of being spotted in a town near the Cascades were high and staying in one place increased the likelihood I would be spotted. The moment I was identified, I would be hunted down and handed back to Kane Shipman, my alpha.
Ten years ago, I’d signed a marriage contract with the man I thought was Kane Shipman, except the Kane I knew was an imposter. Really, Michael Card, the bankrupt owner of a pencil company was hired by the real Kane Shipman, werewolf Alpha of North America. The man I stood at the alter with used all of Kane’s information, social security number, birth certificate, everything, on our official marriage paperwork. It didn’t matter that the real Kane wasn’t the one I stood across the altar from when I said, “I do.” According to the law of the United States of America and every werewolf within the lower forty-eight, I was Kane Shipman’s wife and, to most wolves, his property as well.
Looking at the bus stop that strangely didn’t smell like werewolves, I inhaled a shuddering breath and pulled a loose quarter from my pocket. “Should I get off in Grayhaven?”
I tossed the coin in the air, caught it, and smacked it down on the backside of my hand. “Heads is yes, tails is no.”
When I lifted my hand, George Washington winked up at me.
Fuck a mother-fucking duck. I was going to do this. I grabbed my go bag, pulled it on, and headed for the back stairs of the bus.
“Hey, you!” Someone called over.
I stopped dead in my tracks as my heart climbed into my throat. The gun was tucked in the top pocket of my bag, and it would take far too long to get it out, point, and shoot.
“Sweetheart, I’m talking to you in the back.”
Clenching my hands into fists, I peered up to the front of the bus.
The bus driver leaned out to look over his shoulder. He was a middle-aged man with a scruffy chin, beer belly, and gaze that lingered too long on the female passengers. I’d successfully avoided his attention since I climbed on seven hours ago, but now I found myself fixed by it. “Sweetheart, a girl like you shouldn’t be walking around out alone at this time of night. Do you have someone coming to get you?”
At thirty-seven, I could hardly be considered a girl, but between my height, baby face, and the fact I stopped aging when I was bitten and turned into a werewolf, people usually guessed my age in the college-age bracket when they were at a distance and mid-twenties close up. I’d obviously called too much attention to myself by staying on the bus this long. I thought I had done a good job blending with the sleepy crowd, but clearly the driver’s hungry eyes had taken notice.
I pulled up my hood. “My father is waiting in the parking lot,” I called out. “Thanks for the ride.”
As soon as I stepped off the bus, the doors slid closed and the engine hissed. I’d barely made it to the curb before the bus was rumbling forward and turning back onto the street. As the engine quieted with distance, I waited in the shadows of the bus station, sniffing the air.
It was almost impossible to believe that I still didn’t scent a single supernatural. A few homeless people slept in the hedges along the exterior wall of the bus station, but homeless people on the streets always soothed my fears. Yes, that sounded bad, but vampires cleared out the streets of vulnerable populations faster than an overzealous mayor ever could. Seeing people sleeping on the street was a sure-fire sign that a town wasn’t overrun with the undead.
The hair prickled on the back of my neck as I stepped onto the street outside of the bus station, and I could swear I felt the heat of someone’s gaze on my back. There was a quiet hiss, and I spun, scrabbling for my gun, but I stopped with my hand halfway in the zipper. Save for a few blinking streetlamps, the road was empty.
My heart thundered in my chest as I craned my neck to see into an alleyway between dark storefronts, only to hear a soft snap and see a pair of eyes shining from the bushes.
Squatting, I found a small feral cat hunched down, ready for a fight.
“We’re just freaking each other out, aren’t we?” I reached in my bag, rustling through the contents. “If you can believe it, I actually have a can of tuna.” It was the last bit of food I had in my bag, purchased at a gas station we stopped at yesterday, and the only reason I hadn’t eaten it yet was because the smell on the bus would draw too much attention to me. My stomach ached with hunger, but I was more capable of going and getting food than this guy, and I could see his ribs. So, I opened the can and left it in the bushes.
I pulled my sweatshirt hood down over my face and headed to the only lit store on the street.
Ten minutes later, I seriously regretted giving my last bit of food to a stray cat. If I hadn’t been desperate, I would have walked straight back out that door when I saw the prices in Cat’s 24-Hour Drugstore, but I was starting to feel weak and shaky, and those were two things a werewolf never should be.
I found myself at the checkout aisle, wincing at the ever-growing price on the register as a red-eyed clerk scanned my batteries, two boxes of hair dye, and a dried noodle package. When I held up sixty bucks, the store clerk adjusted the nose ring through the center of her nostrils and she asked, “You’re actually paying cash?”
“That’s all I have.”
She wiggled my noodle package in the air. “You know these are ten dollars apiece, right?”
“I’m starving, but my cash is starting to run low. You don’t know of anywhere that sells affordable food this late, do you?”
“At midnight in Grayhaven? No. Not for cash,” she said through a yawn as she took my money. She held my bag out to me. “Bye.”
“Anywhere you know of that’s safe to spend the night for under a hundred bucks?” I asked as I took the bag.
“Seriously, lady, this isn’t a visitor center. Explaining the town’s amenities to you isn’t part of my job.”
“Okay, well then, can I at least use your restroom?” I nodded to the key hanging behind the register.
“This isn’t a hotel either. I don’t want to have to deal with getting you out of the shitter at five AM.
”
“I’m not homeless. I just have to—”
“Yes, you are,” she picked up a book from beside her register and walked away.
As soon as she turned her back, I leaned over the counter to snag the bathroom key, only to have a black paw come out of nowhere and swipe across my hand. I leaned, looking into the shadows under the register. Well, what I thought had been a shadow was in fact the world’s poofiest gray cat.
I reached once more, but the dark gray paw swiped again, jangling the keys so loud, I was afraid rude counter chick would hear.
“I’m just borrowing the keys for a few minutes,” I told the cat, feeling ridiculous, but when I reached again, the creature only hissed and glared at me.
The girl didn’t even glance up from her book when I returned with pink hair, a pair of tight jeans, V-neck shirt, and cowboy boots.
“Here you go,” I whispered to the cat. The little devil watched with menace clearly reflected in her glare as I hung the key behind the counter and left.
In a ten-minute walk around the streets of Grayhaven, I discovered dozens of two-story Victorians and not a single hotel. It didn’t take me long to find the only other open business in town. The bar took up the first story in a not-quite-refurbished large clocktower in the center of a small downtown area. There was no name on the peeling exterior walls, only an open door and a crowd inside. The group within the walls were an odd mix of everything from road weary bikers to women in flowing bohemian gowns with flower crowns on their heads. At one end of the bar, I even saw a man in a tweed jacket smoking a pipe.
A live band played an old Rockknot cover that I used to listen to back in high school, but the crowd before the band clearly had no clue how to dance to grunge music. One lady twirled her arms around trailing scarves while another dancer did some sort of jig. When I dropped my bag and climbed up on a bar stool, at least three sets of eyes narrowed in on me, and I could feel the attention itching across my skin.
Every set of eyes was a potential informant.
A bartender looked up from where he was cleaning a glass behind the bar with a dishtowel, and his dark eyes met mine. He looked young, maybe early twenties, and he had a nerdy sexy look about his face.
“What are you having?” he called across the bar with a smile that was just this side of flirty.
Attraction bubbled up in me, but I quickly stuck a pin in it. This guy might look five years younger, but I was likely a good fifteen years older. Meaning, I could technically be his teen mother. Also, it felt plain disingenuous to flirt with a human. Werewolves slept with humans all the time, but revealing our true nature to them went against every supernatural law ever written and just plain brainless unless you wanted to end up dead or locked away in a secret government lab.
I’d taken too long to answer, and the sexy bartender set his hands on the bar and raised a dark brow. His teasing look was definitely flirty now. “Are you just going to stare at me, or did you want something?”
“I do want something.” I leaned onto the worn-down wood and called over, “A job.” I punctuated the words with a smile. “If you have any in stock.”
“You don’t waste any time.” His brows shot up over his thinly rimmed glasses. “You look like you barely stepped off the bus.”
Shock hit me, and I leaned back on my barstool. “How do you know I came in on the bus?”
“Lucky guess.” He poured an amber liquid into a cup and set it in front of me.
“That’s quite a guess,” I said as I took my beer.
“All right, you’re carrying your possessions, so you didn’t come in by car. Your bag is too big for a motorcycle and too clean for a long-distance hiker. And, Western Bus Lines tagged your luggage.” He nodded to the large white tag hanging off my bag.
“Oh, shit. Sorry.” I grimaced before taking a sip of the amber liquid.
“Relax, stay awhile. I can take your bag behind the counter if you want. There are more professional thieves per capita in Grayhaven than in any other city in the world.” He opened his arms, and even though I didn’t want to be parted from my gun, the chances of it being stolen were much higher on this side of the bar.
The moment I passed it over, I felt ten times more vulnerable in my seat, as if I’d passed over invisible armor along with all my earthly possessions.
Taking a small sip of my beer, I turned back to the stage. The singer on stage was a dead ringer for Rockknot’s late, great lead singer, Chad Jameson. This guy had the same long blond hair, dark blue dreamy eyes, bold European features, and full lips. His voice was similar too, if not a little raspier.
The singer’s gaze settled on mine for a second, and my stomach flipped as he continued to sing the familiar words with a sultry smile on his lips.
“Hey.” A man slid in beside me, breaking my moment of eye contact with the Chad Jameson impersonator.
“Hello,” I said, holding up my beer glass in a “cheers” motion.
This guy was probably the only man in a suit in the entire bar, which immediately got my hackles up. Kane lived in his suits. They were practically his second skin. If he wasn’t in one of his tailormade Italian suits, he was naked. There was no in-between.
This man’s suit was bespoke, but it looked worn out and threadbare, which gave me a little comfort. He leaned in, and I took in his long face, dark hair, skin that hadn’t seen the sun in ten years, thick plump lips, and were those—fangs?
I almost startled off my barstool.
What the actual fuck?
I did not smell the chalky death scent of vampires, but this guy was, clear as day, a blood-sucking fiend.
“You okay?” the vampire asked, reaching out toward me, but he was smart enough not to grab me.
“She just got off the bus today,” Nerdy-Sexy said as he set a glass on the bar. He poured a shot of vodka and then added a viscous red liquid to the top before garnishing it with a celery stick. As he passed it over, I got a whiff of the rusty penny smell of blood.
“Remind me not to order a Bloody Mary,” I muttered with a wince.
“This is a Mary Bloody.” The vampire smiled at this before taking a sip. “So, if you just disembarked into our beautiful unique city, where did you come in from?”
Nerdy-Sexy slammed a fist on the bar, making everyone in our vicinity jump. Even the Chad Jameson impersonator missed a note before picking up again. “Clive,” the bartender growled in a low rumble, “It’s none of your business where she came from. Save her the effort of making something up to tell you.”
Clive didn’t seem fazed by the sudden outburst from Nerdy-Sexy, the vampire only smiled over his Mary Bloody and said, “Apologies if I was intrusive.”
“It’s fine,” I said with a shrug.
When I didn’t elaborate, Clive took a small sip of his pungent beverage and set it back on the counter. “If you just arrived today, and your bag is here with you, where are you planning to sleep tonight?”
“That’s yet to be determined.” I ran a finger over the rim of my glass. “Do you have any suggestions?” I asked, even though I would probably do the opposite of whatever he recommended.
“I do.” A smile unfurled across his blood tinged lips. “I run a small Inn with a couple… let’s call them friends. We offer generous payment options.”
The implication was clear. Clive and his vampire buddies took their payment in blood, but I’d rather take my chances on the street.
“I wouldn’t accept if I were you,” Nerdy-Sexy said as he dried tumblers across the bar. He gave me a small wink. “You’d get a better deal from the demons.”
Clive’s head twisted toward the bartender in a completely inhuman way that had the little hairs on the back of my neck standing on end. “The demons would make you pay twice.”
“Demons?” I asked.
Every word that came from these men’s lips was so shocking, my mind was barely keeping up. First, vampires were out in the open. Had I been so oblivious that the vampires had revealed t
heir existence to humans, and I didn’t even notice? And Nerdy-Sexy seemed to think nothing of it. He also mentioned demons casually even though in my ten years of being supernatural, I’d only come across one demon, one time, but that was a fucked-up story I wasn’t going to think about right now.
“Down the bar, there, with all the leather.” The bartender nodded back to the group of road-weary bikers.
The vampire twirled his celery stick around his Mary Bloody. “And now that you’ve had a look at them, should we start payment negotiations?”
“Thank you, Clive, but no thank you,” I said, firmly, before turning on my barstool and focusing on my beer, deciding to take only the barest sip. Usually, I could smell any kind of drink tampering a mile away, but my senses were obviously on the fritz in this strange town.
Clive the vampire hadn’t taken the not-so-subtle rejection of his offer, because he made his presence known by leaning in much too close. Finally, I got a good whiff of his chalky death scent as he whispered, “Ours is the nicest hotel in town. Unless you want to pay the incubuses in far more than a pint of blood, the Sanguine Inn is your only choice. You should press your advantage now. When you’re desperate, the price of a room will go much higher. You don’t want to sleep on the streets in Grayhaven.”
A chill ran down my spine at his words, because they sounded a hell of a lot like a warning along with a threat.
“You’ve gone too far this time, Clive. Back away now if you know what’s good for you,” Nerdy-Sexy growled before he nodded to someone deeper in the bar. I felt them before I saw them. Three werewolves surrounded me, their power crackling off my skin. Only when they were feet away did I scent them. They smelled like woodsmoke, and ferns crushed under paws. Their presence felt like the rejuvenating wind on top of a mountain and tasted like the fresh blood of a downed prey. My body screamed that I was home and with my pack. But it was a lie. It had always been a lie.
Panic surged through me as they moved in and surrounded me on three sides, and the taste of metal coated my tongue so strong, it was like my mouth had filled with bullets.
Escaping Monsters: A Reverse Harem Wolf Shifter Romance (Grayhaven Book 1) Page 2
