Zuri

A nd to your left another asshole wolf pack, I paused at my own musings, assholes who bare their teeth like mutts at a pound when you drive by. Please don't be alarmed, this is a three-thousand-pound vehicle, the dog will lose. I snorted, feeling slightly better even though it was crude.

Clicking the blinker on, I turned right, heading further into the epicenter of East OKimma, down the manicured street with precisely cropped hedges. This side of the city district was occupied mainly by werewolves. The east side was new, modern buildings, skyscrapers, everything fancy and pristine.

The werewolves kept to themselves, organizing their side of the district into neat subdivisions with perfectly paved roads and not a bush out of place. I sighed, my skin crawling with nerves. I was ready to be back on the west side of OKimma already; the side I preferred with beautiful historic brick buildings and old wooden stores, where I could easily lose myself inside a musty bookstore or aromatic candle shop, and ultimately where I felt safest since it was occupied by dragons. And dragons disliked wolves.

I flicked my blinker on to take a right turn and I scanned the houses on my left. Checking the rearview mirror, West OKimma continued to fade from sight. Glancing over to the passenger’s seat, a little black box stared at me. I hated the box, and I hated what I would have to put inside. Grimacing, I pulled over to the side of the road.

This gated community, much like every other pack’s, faced me with black iron bars and a matching fence that looked like vicious teeth. The gate yawned shut, clanging in place like death’s bell after a car ahead of me drove through. Taking a deep breath, I tried to dispel the dread I felt, but only managed to feel the hairs begin to stand on my arms. I took another look, making sure to overlook the ferociously grinning teeth of the gate. In a postage-stamp sized box-building, Arno watched the entrance and exit of the gated werewolf community.

I groaned. Arno and I weren't exactly buddies. He tolerated me because I knew some mutual werewolves from work and back when I was in high school, and I tolerated him as I liked not being chomped to pieces.

Merging back onto the road, I rolled down my window manually, as I wished for those fancy electric windows on newer vehicles. I carefully zoomed across the street, pulling up to the gatehouse window and pasting a bright, fake smile for the prickly wolf.

Arno’s scowl deepened across his olive toned face while he rolled his emerald eyes at me. “You’re not welcome back,” he growled, raking his fingers through a mop of ebony hair.

I shrugged, pretending nonchalance, “I have something that needs to get back to the Sandalio Holding.”

Arno perked a brow. “And that is?”

“None of your business,” I said, my throat constricting.

“Ah,” Arno replied, a smug smirk creasing his hardened face.

I wanted to wipe it clean. If Arno knew what happened, I wondered how many others in the Sandalio pack did too.

Arno grinned viciously, exposing his fangs just to taunt me. “I will allow you entrance one last time, Zuri; then don’t come back. Your ties here are done.”

I dipped my head in thanks as Arno didn’t have to allow me in. And I knew his silent threat was serious. “I understand.”

Arno hit the button allowing the double iron gates to open inward. The thick metal silently opened into a nicely landscaped subdivision. Each house was manicured to perfection, each varying slightly in color. Beautiful maples lined in between the paved road and sidewalk.

I drove inside. I knew where I was going by heart and like my heart, it hurt painfully that all I had envisioned for myself was a lie. I swallowed back the tears threatening to fall. I had spent too much time wallowing already.

Arriving at the house where I needed to be, I slammed the rig in park. The rumble of the engine tried to drown out all the scattered messy thoughts in my head. I glanced down at the engagement ring on my finger. I had yet to take it off, hoping maybe I was wrong. Yet me being here proved otherwise. The ring made my heart wrench and my stomach swirled with bitterness that I was duped; and wearing it reminded me not to be so careless again, or at least not so easily duped.

Being cheated on and abandoned was something I’d not dealt with in my life and I wasn’t sure how to place the twisting emotions. Right now, I’m angry, hurt, and a little bitter. Earlier today, I felt ugly. The breakup between us was more a reflection of him than me, but it still hurt and caused me to question myself. Two years of memories, pictures, fun, all thrown away in a matter of minutes, yet it felt like hours.

Sighing, I rested the back of my head against the headrest, evaluating where I was physically and emotionally for a brief moment. I was inside the gated community of the Sandalio pack, waiting to gather up some courage to step out of my rig and face the jerk who'd broken my heart. Emotionally, I was a mess.

Staring at the ring, I pulled it off my finger, something I should have done two weeks ago. Snorting derisively, I shoved it back in the small black box to die. Lazaro was mate bonding next week to a werewolf in another pack. They made an adorable couple. Even I had to admit it. Still, the sting of the breakup after being engaged for a year, along with the fake promise of forever love, burned my heart more than I would ever dare to admit out loud.

I checked my long blonde hair in the rearview mirror. My long, curling iron ringlets were a mess, but I didn’t care. My black blouse had a small hole in the left side bottom hem, but it would be covered by my dark brown leather jacket. My dark wash jeans and hiking boots fit comfortably. I slid the handgun I carried for protection from my side holster and stuck it in the glovebox out of respect to the Sandalio pack.

A werewolf couple passed my rig, walking hand in hand; their narrowed green eyes fixed on me, before turning away. A human wouldn’t be a threat to them. Shifters and magic abounded in the whole of Quivleren, let alone OKimma. Dragons stayed on their side of town while were-packs stayed on theirs, and other forms of paranormal lined the outskirts and anywhere else. Humans, like myself, were outnumbered, scattered throughout Quivleren, but we were left alone for the most part since most races found us nothing more than a mild annoyance at worst and less than important at best.

I glanced out the window to Lazaro’s parents' picturesque mansion. Lazaro’s car pulled out of the pristine concrete driveway, taking off south toward the downtown area of the west side. I sighed, opening my bronco’s door. His father spotted me before I made it across the street. His gray-brown brows furrowed, and green eyes held annoyance. Like Lazaro, his father was well over six feet, broad and muscular.

“Zuri,” he announced.

I swallowed. “Hello, Mr. Sandalio,” tucking my long sunshine blonde hair behind my ear, I continued, “I need to give something back to Lazaro.”

Arthur rolled his eyes, striding to meet me. “What is it?” he demanded.

“You’ll know when you see it,” I replied despondently. “I can’t keep this.”

Arthur opened the black box, scowling further; his bushy eyebrows scrunching tightly together, becoming one. “How did you get this? Is this some kind of joke, human?” Arthur practically growled the last word, sending shivers up my back. I refused to let him see.

“No, sir. Ask him yourself.” I straightened, forcing my hands not to crawl into my jean pockets. “I know you never liked me, but you also know damn well, I don’t lie.”

“You’re right,” He conceded and spat out in disgust, “I can smell lies on you… humans. Whatever he did, he shouldn’t have. I will take care of this.”

I nodded, turning to leave. I strode across the street back to my bronco. The car door creaked open.

“Zuri!” Arthur called.

I turned around, the wind whipping hair in my face. “Yes, sir?” I tucked my blonde tresses inside the back of my jacket.

His tone softened a fraction and I saw a hint of compassion in his eyes, “You’re a good one, just not for my son or pack.”

Two other males came outside from the Sandalio Mansion, glaring at me. I swallowed hard, forcing back tears.

“Thank you,” I choked out before my voice cracked.

Sitting in the seat of my rig, all breath left my body in a rush. I closed my eyes and leaned my head against the headrest. My hands naturally gripped the steering wheel. Tears tracked down my face and I wiped them away bitterly.

“At least it’s over,” I whispered.

The keys fumbled in my hands before I was able to insert them into the ignition. My old bronco turned over, the engine humming with power. Today was hard. Tomorrow would be harder as I said goodbye to my apartment and hello to a house. Lazaro and I got an apartment together, even though I stayed in it fully. He wanted me protected by the gated area and the security cameras the complex had. I thought it silly since I did medical billing from home, but I wasn’t about to argue.

“So much bullshit in one handsome body,” I mumbled.

The motor hummed. I checked my mirrors before pulling away for good. There would never be a need to come to this part of town again. I pulled up to the guardhouse, handing over the guest pass. Even with my heart feeling heavy, returning the ring to Lazaro’s pack was the right thing to do. I could not morally keep his family’s heirloom.

I rolled down my window, taking in the September breeze. I loved this time of year when the hot stench of summer faded out into the crispness of trees changing. How the colors slowly started to turn, then all of a sudden, as if overnight, trees burst alive with the last remnant of color. Fall was my favorite time of year and soon, all the coffee shops would be humming with ads of pumpkin spice lattes and peppermint mochas.

The motor in my bronco rumbled through the complex, announcing my arrival to everyone. I pulled into my spot, turning the engine off. Hopping out, I locked and slammed the door to piss off the one person I knew would be watching the parking lot. The old bitty loved to gripe. She always had her window open and stared outside all day.

Right on cue, I thought, catching her sudden appearance on her porch balcony out of the corner of my eye.

“When are you getting rid of that beast of a car, Zuri!” my neighbor, Ms. Thompson, screeched from her balcony. Her brown hair, streaked with silver, was wound up in bright pink curlers. As always, her oversized, mumu-style, lime green, paisley dress hung to her shins. Wiry hairs poked out of her upper lip making her scowl more comical than it already was. She had no teeth and would constantly run her tongue under her lips. “It bothers my cats. It bothers the neighbors. It’s bad for the environment with all the pollution! Your car is ridiculous!” she blathered over the yowling of cats in the background.

Beginning the ascent to my apartment, I called over my shoulder, “As soon as you get rid of your fourteen cats, Ms. Thompson. Which is against the apartment contract, but you don’t see me bitching.”

Cats pooled like oil at her feet. So. Many. Cats. One was good and troublesome enough. Fourteen was disgusting with all the litter and food. My lip twitched and curled upward, inhaling a waft of the pungent odor coming from her apartment.

Ms. Thompson fish-jawed a few times, her face scrunched up, comically resembling three of her animals sitting at her feet. “Cats don’t make troublesome noises!” she retorted.

“Cats fight, males spray, females scream to mate, one of them is meowing all day long - and those are just the noise problems. The environmental problems, just to name a couple: unvaccinated, uncontrolled population due to cats not getting fixed,” I said, ticking off each issue on my fingers as I opened the door to my apartment.

I slammed the door, bolting the deadlock, and the chain lock above it. Ms. Thompson got under my skin quicker than normal today. The nasty old hag sits outside on her balcony scrutinizing every little move anyone does and usually her acerbic remarks roll off my back. But today… today had already been rough and her acid was just another pain in my ass I didn't need. I navigated the darkened apartment to the fridge, pulling out one of the seltzer beers I loved. I cracked it open, drinking the entirety.

Meowing came from down the hallway. I smiled, bending down to pet my own cat. My only cat. Luell purred, arching her back as my fingers snaked down to her ‘sweet spot’. Her soft multicolored fur brought a smile to my face. Luell was the prettiest long-haired calico I’d ever seen.

I sat down on the cool kitchen floor, leaning my head against the white cabinets. My right hand mindlessly stroked Luell. Inhaling deeply, the scent of my wax warmer I left on to cover the stench of the neighbor greeted my nose with a spicy grapefruit aroma. I sat for just a moment, enjoying Luell and the comforting grapefruit scent before I moved, groaning as I forced myself off the floor.

Luell twirled in between my legs. I smiled wanly at the cat. My heart ached and somehow Luell sensed it. Luell was a particular cat. She liked certain people and she eventually warmed up to Lazaro. I kicked my foot and sighed. Lazaro led me to believe he was a great man; a nice man with a giving heart. Stupidly, or well naively, I thought maybe I could be a part of his life, more than just a girlfriend. I was liked by his pack before the breakup; even his mother loved me. Then all of a sudden, the rug was ripped out from under me. I got dumped via email two weeks ago. Two days later, after the email, he showed up at my door with roses while his liar's tongue promised me a forever.

The cherry on this mountain of craptastic sundae, his father, by an email, informs me Lazaro’s getting married to Zemila from another pack and I need to cut all contact or they would end me as I was a threat to their peace treaty with the other pack. I stared at those words for an eternity, choking on my emotions. I couldn’t breathe for what felt like minutes, my body refusing to inhale. For hours, tears tracked down my cheeks. After what felt like what might be the final torrent of salty waterworks, I emailed back the same day stating I had a personal item of Lazaro’s I needed to return.

I tossed the empty seltzer beer can in the sink. “It’s over,” I told Luell.

The wall clock chimed eight in the evening. I picked up my phone and noted the text message from the real estate agent detailing I could move into my house tomorrow.

“Luell, are you ready to move?”

Luell mewled, stretching out and flopping on her back.

“Ok then, we’re moving. First thing in the morning, we’re starting our new life.” I gave her one last belly scratch before heading to my own bed where I looked forward to ending my incredibly emotional day.

Zuri

I couldn’t get to my new house fast enough. I was so excited to finally have something truly mine, where I was able to start over and fresh after the horrible break up with Lazaro. I sighed, wriggling my bottom in the seat. I turned on the road the house was on, leaning forward into the steering wheel. Luell purred from inside her cat carrier in the bronco. I smiled at the happy sound. The weird cat loved riding in the rig; but with long rides, it was easier to keep her in the crate than her being on my lap, or crawling around my feet. The gate to the house was open. I frowned, wondering why I hadn’t had to use the remote the real estate agent gave me.

First thing I need to fix is the gate, I thought, making a mental note of what to repair. Pulling into the driveway, I left the bronco engine running with a light air-conditioned breeze for Luell as I got out and shut the door.

I screamed happily, dancing from foot to foot and twirling in place. I whipped out my phone and sent a text to my Uncle Syrus that I got the house. He messaged back giving a thumbs up and stating he was proud of me. I smiled at my phone. My uncle was someone I could always count on to be there for me since I had no real parents. I stood in the driveway grinning from ear to ear as I took in the newness of my home.

I glanced over my shoulder to the bronco holding all my belongings inside, besides the big furniture that would be delivered tomorrow afternoon. Turning around, I stared at the gate five hundred or so feet behind me and pushed the button for the gate to close. I cringed at the grinding on the hinges as the gates clanked shut. One repair I apparently don't have to do now, I thought happily. I grinned, breathing in deeply the scent of earth and fir trees. Bright sunshine warmed my back. My heart felt full. Owning my own home that couldn't be taken from me, unless I defaulted on payments, marked a big checkpoint in my life.

“My own place!” I squealed. “No neighbors, no drama, no Ms. Thompson with her damn cats!”

The house was picturesque, like a small cottage belonging to an old woman in a fairytale book. The cedar shake roof would be getting replaced next week with metal to make it sturdier against storms. And I had a guy coming out tomorrow to install central heating and cooling. The cedar shake siding was weathered gray, but intact and kept well. A black front door greeted my gaze with an ornate crow silver door knocker. White framed windows with flower beds underneath lined the front of the two-bedroom cottage. A single concrete pathway led from the gravel driveway to the front of the house.

Unable to contain myself, I ran to the front door, sticking the old key inside the rusted lock. It turned over, the door groaning on its unused hinges. My feet left footprints as I wandered through, opening up windows. White sheets, covered with dust hid forgotten furniture, so lonely and left behind. If they were in decent shape, I might not even need my own. I carefully peeled back a sheet revealing a rocking chair with a red velvet cushioned seat. My fingers traipsed down the polished wood.

The chair squeaked when I sat in it, the cushion giving off a small cloud of dust despite the sheet. I rocked two times before it collapsed. I laughed until tears came out my eyes, thankful nothing on me was broken.

“No fire side crocheting then,” I said, getting to my feet and dusting off.

The walls were covered in a beautiful old black and teal damask wallpaper. The wall was divided by a wood chair rail running from the floor to three feet up the wall, in a polished cherry.

“All of that stays.” I muttered to myself as I admired the way the colors complimented each other.

I glanced down at my watch and sighed, already tired at the thought of all the work needed to be done still. I walked out the door toward my rig to grab a load and continued my one-woman dialogue, “Time to get moving.”

Two steps out and I paused, shielding my hand against the glare of the sun for a moment. Luell meowed loudly and my senses went on high alert. My bronco door creaked open.

“Hey!” I shouted at the unknown intruder. “What the fuck do you think you’re doing?”

I ran to the bronco seeing the guy standing there with my door open. I got in front of him, my arms out protecting Luell and my belongings inside. He towered over me. Dark blue jeans and a black t-shirt, with some sort of obscure band on it, formed snugly to his well-developed muscles. I swallowed, already nervous and not even seeing his face yet. Glancing up, I squinted one eye against the sun, closing the other and refusing to let my arms down. Bright green eyes under a skater boy mop of brown hair stared back. A slight touch of a beard growing lined his jaw and tempted me to find out whether it was rough or soft. At least it did until he opened his mouth.

“Why did you leave your cat in the car?” he began, his hard tone gruff, but full of concern for my animal, “it’s hot out.”

“I left my rig running with the air conditioning on,” I replied defensively. “The better question is, what are you doing trespassing on my private property?”

My hand subtly snaked inside the door of my rig to the pepper spray and long hunting knife I always carried, while my eyes remained fixed on his. My hand enclosed around the cold steel handle, instinctively flicking the safety snap open with my thumb. I was ready to use it. I didn’t want to, though. I left my phone inside on the living room table. I licked my lips. It'd take at least thirty minutes for the police to get here, driving time only. That didn't include the dispatch and routing time. Anything could happen in thirty minutes and my brain was conjuring all kinds of bad stuff.

The man glared down his nose at me. He was absolutely breathtaking even with the scowl. If we were meeting under better circumstances, like at a bar, I would have let him take me home. I rolled my shoulders, refusing to let my brain go there and taking a staggered stance not squared to his.

The man stepped closer to me, within arm’s reach or less, and rolled his shoulders back, “Whatever you’re planning to do with whatever is in that cubby,” he leaned in closer, his voice growly and rough, werewolf hairs on his arms coming out, ready to shift, “I suggest you don’t.” His eyes shimmered. The hair on his body bristled at my subtle, or apparently not so subtle, attempt to grab a weapon. I left my hand enclosed around my knife. I wasn’t going to balk at his threat and leave myself vulnerable.

Werewolf.

I rose up on my toes, meeting him almost nose to nose. “Then I suggest you leave, you’re trespassing.”

“This is my family’s property!” He boomed, the werewolf hairs on his arms receding. “You’re on my land!”

“According to the Bank of West OKimma, it’s mine.”

The man backed down as he growled. “Since when?”

He obviously hadn’t a clue. I felt bad for him. The dragon shifters at the bank more than likely foreclosed on the house after two months of non-payment. Dragons went by the books, knew the law like the back of their hand, rarely gave warnings, and they never messed around with money either.

The vein in this guy’s neck pulsed. His face mottled over, turning red. His eyes flashed between anger at me buying his house and pain at losing something sentimental to him. He glanced at the black front door to the house, running a hand through his mop of brown hair.

I sighed, softening my tone. “I’ve seen this place for sale for months. I recently got promoted in my job and decided to buy a house. I signed paperwork and got the keys this morning.” I released my grip on the knife, pulling my arm out and putting a friendly hand on his bicep.

Oh, that is delicious!

“I’m sorry. I didn’t know,” I said, smiling softly.

“Those thieving dragons!” he growled, the hair on his arms bristling again and eyes changing to gold.

Aaaaand no more wolves for me. I withdrew my hand. I’m so good. I made myself a promise after Lazaro that I would not date another wolf. Despite my resolve, I was drawn to wolves. Some women liked the bad boy persona. Others liked the suave preppy guys. Me? Apparently I liked big, burly, powerful, and protective werewolves. I wasn't alone in ‘my type’ though. Humans who weren’t terrified, like myself, often swooned after wolves. Yet, I didn’t want another Lazaro. I didn’t want to be left.

Hard no, with a side of definitely not, followed up by, yeah, you’re not as hot now.

I turned my back on him, reached into my rig and turned the engine off. The rumble came to an abrupt halt and I set the e-brake with my hand. The man shook his upper body like a shiver ran down his spine, pacing in short strides. Slowly his eyes went back to their gorgeous emerald and the hairs on his arm receded.

“Take it up with the bank,” I said.

He stopped pacing at my remark. “What’s your name?” he asked, his voice calm.

“Zuri Barsotti.”

“Thank you,” he said, taking off toward the gate as if this had been a neighborly visit.

“And your name?” I called out to his disappearing backside while taking Luell out of the bronco.

“Evander Akselsen,” he yelled, pausing by the gate with a side glance over his shoulder. Without another thought, he jumped, clearing the seven-foot gate easily.

I rolled my eyes, knowing he probably had a remote or something to make the gate open. Luell mewled irritability, the hair on her nape stiffening. I smiled. Luell, like most domestic animals, in my opinion, was great at judging someone’s character. If Luell didn’t like a person, I didn’t go around them if I could help it. I should have paid closer attention to her with Lazaro. Luell liked Lazaro for a while, then started avoiding him later in our relationship. I was in love with the back-stabbing, lying werewolf by that time and ignored her signs. And now, clearly, she didn’t like Evander. I wasn’t certain about him either. Aside from seeming grumpy and incredibly misinformed, he didn’t seem too bad. But if nothing else, Lazaro taught me that handsome looks could hide a whole lot of heartache.

“No more wolves,” I reminded myself.

Luell mewled happily at me.

Apparently I didn't have much, because moving took me less time than I had anticipated. I set the coffee timer to brew at six thirty in the morning. My eyes scanned and mentally checked off where I had hidden stashes of guns and knives throughout the house. One thing my Uncle Syrus taught me was to be prepared and know where things were in case of emergency.

Internet people were out earlier, so I was all set up and ready for work in the morning. Even though I didn’t start for another few days, I wanted to reorganize my work files and get a jump on the new billing system. My new desk would arrive sometime this week and I will be putting it in the spare bedroom. I broke down all the boxes, leaving them neatly stacked by the back door to put into the recycling whenever the bins got here.

I stood in the middle of the house and smiled, looking at my content cat sleeping in her favorite chair. The tv softly played an episode of something I’d left on for Luell and for the noise. I still wasn’t used to the quiet of the forest and the tv noise was going to help me transition. At least that’s what I’d read online. Peeking outside, the sun’s last rays shone bright before the gray-blue took over the sky.

I loved this time of year - the spookiness of branches without leaves, carved jack-o-lanterns, and the overall sharp scents of fall. Being here on my own, in a new, unfamiliar place, made my senses heightened. I wasn't yet used to the trees and their movements or how the lighting played tricks on the walls.

Night had come faster than I realized. The first night in a new place always bothered me. Growing up, I bounced from house to house, guardian to guardian, from my aunts and uncles, to cousins, grandparents, everywhere but my actual mother’s house. I never knew my father. My mother, from what I was told, was in and out of mental health wards and drug rehabs. One cousin mentioned she was actually the Queen of Kadia, but I doubted it. No one as screwed up as my mother or as normal as my family, could be royalty. My mother would pop in, say hello, stay a day or two, and then leave; she came and went faster than bunnies repopulated.

Eventually, I was picked up by foster care. The system discovered I was being passed around too much and wanted to give me a ‘secure’ place. I was passed around then too. I was in the system for a year with three different families, until it was decided I would live with my Uncle Syrus and Aunt Espe, which is where I wanted to be.

With all of that happening, I never had many worldly possessions, as I always planned on up and leaving at the drop of a hat. But now everything was different. I had a home, and no one was ever going to rip me from it.

Stripping down to nothing, I stepped into the hot shower and closed my eyes, sighing in relief as the water hit my sore, move-tired muscles. My voice sang out in harmony with my favorite song – Fire Meet Gasoline. The song summed up how I felt about Lazaro. He was gasoline, quick at igniting when a spark lit around him, but his love fizzled out just as quickly. Upon reflecting, it felt like he was in relationships for the quick, enigmatic rush, the fiery passion. I just hoped he treated his new wife better. I was fire, loving, enduring, hot embers that kept the fire burning long after the fuel had disappeared. I had tried to keep it going, not knowing the fuel was gone, and now, all I was left with was smoke.

I let the water wipe my tears away. “Am I so unlovable?” I asked myself.

Maybe I was. I had baggage, more than most women. At twenty-four, I was self-sufficient. I didn’t need a man, yet wanted to share my life with one. I didn’t like being alone. My family, after I turned eighteen, walked away from me. They’d done their duty; all the basics taken care of. The only person I still spoke with was my Uncle Syrus. He was the father I wished I had. Syrus treated me well, not like a burden or an outcast because of who sired me. Syrus taught me to play baseball in the yard, how to swim and fish. He did all the ‘dad’ like things actors in movies do with kids. And I loved him wholeheartedly.

My phone buzzed on the bathroom counter as the blaring ringtone trumpeted. I stepped out of the shower, quickly wrapping my hair and body up in a towel.

“Hi Uncle Sy,” I said chipperly.

“Hey there kiddo! How’s the new place? Text me your address again, and I’ll come bug ya this week.”

I grinned. “That sounds great. I love the place. It’s beautiful, quiet and my entire property is fenced in. I’m away from the busy city life, which I love. I feel at home and free here.”

“Good. You needed to leave that apartment and the weird cat lady. How big is it?”

“The house is around a thousand square feet and the property is ten acres.”

“I’m so proud of you. Do you want or need anything from the little gift shop you love down here?”

My heart warmed more at his thoughtfulness, “No, thank you Uncle Sy. Your visit is a treat enough.”

We spoke on the phone for a few more minutes. Syrus was not a big phone talker, but he was a texter. I was the same. Living with him and Aunt Espe were the best years of my life. Syrus was former military, and he was tough as nails, but sweet as a marshmallow. He insisted I learn things most thought improper for a woman so I knew how to survive in the wild, shoot guns, ride motorcycles, and more. Syrus took me in as his own. Aunt Espe was kindly and distant; because me looking like my mother was hard on her. Espe was younger than my mother and watched her older sister make all kinds of trouble. My aunt and uncle never had kids, terrified they would have a kid similar to my mother. I didn’t blame them.

I stepped into my pajamas, loving the clean feeling of the shower and jammies, and looked forward to then getting into cold sheets. I brushed and braided my long sunshine blonde hair in the mirror. Come morning, I would have pretty waves for a few days. I brushed my teeth and stepped out of the bathroom.

The tv in the background replayed an episode of some show I didn’t particularly care for. It was enough to drown out my nerves though, so I let it play. Luell jumped on the bed and hissed toward the closet. My skin prickled. Luell’s back arched as she growled.

“Stop it,” I chided, feigning disinterest, leaning toward the bed as if to climb in.

My hand slid underneath the other pillow where I had stashed my handgun.

“It’s not there,” a masculine voice said.

Zuri

As nonchalantly as I could, I strode to the kitchen. Bootsteps sounded behind me, thundering aggressively in my small home. The hair on the back of my neck prickled at the creature shadowing behind me. I thanked the God Elohi that the one lesson Syrus had drilled into me time and time again was to have a backup plan in case of emergencies. His training allowed me to remain calm, despite my brain racing to the various weapons hiding in my house. I'd already begun to map which ones were easiest to get to and how I'd get to them.

My body had a mind of its own. My heart thundered in my chest. My throat constricted, wanting to panic and cry out. I mentally shook my head. Syrus taught me better. With a deep breath, I navigated my way to the kitchen, willing myself to keep calm.

My bare feet hit the cold kitchen hardwoods. I clicked on the coffee pot, getting out two mugs. My hand snaked over the ledge of the cabinet, grabbing the Taurus 9mm I had in there and slid it beside the coffee pot so it was out of sight, flicking the safety off as I did so. Booted feet marched into the kitchen, planting themselves across the room from me and blocking an exit. The hair on the back of my neck prickled. Out of my peripheral, I saw another man, a blond one, enter my kitchen and block the back door.

“Coffee?” I asked casually, getting another mug down.

I kept my eyes focused on my task and not on the firearm. It was right there if needed and the safety was off. From what I was able to discern, there were only two people here. I was grateful there weren't more men, but the odds were not in my favor.

The brown-haired man in the doorway came closer, stopping just out of arm’s reach. “Where is it?”

“Creamer is in the fridge, second shelf on the door.”

“Where is the key?” he snarled.

“What key?” I asked, setting the mug on the counter. “I have my bronco, house, and mailbox keys hanging up over there.” I jerked my head toward the man at the back door. My keys clearly on a key hanger next to the door.

The brown-haired man who followed me first into the kitchen strode into the faded moonlight. He looked familiar - olive skin, black hair peppered with a touch of silver on the sides and dark emerald eyes. Was he part of Lazaro’s pack? I wasn’t sure. He looked it. Everyone in his pack was tall, dark-skinned, green eyed, breathtaking, and unbelievably cruel when it came to those outside the protection of their pack. Now that Lazaro and I were over, I knew where I stood. They had their own set of rules outside the ones of the general cities law. With a flick, he turned his wrist over unnaturally fast, gun out and pointed sideways like a thug. My lips twitched. He was going to shoot out my window with that poor aim. Better the window than me.

I fixed myself a cup of coffee, my back to them. I drew my pistol closer to me, feeling the hairs on my neck rise higher if it were possible. Inhaling the warm aromatic scent of coffee did little to quell my nerves.

“We know you have it,” the brown-haired man stated.

“Her fear turns me on,” the younger blond said from behind me growling hungrily after sniffing the air loudly. “She is all alone.”

Setting down my coffee mug, I drew my pistol off the counter, spun on my heel while pulling the slide back. “I have six rounds and three of them are cased in silver. Wanna see which one of you is gonna cry first?”

The blond-haired man behind me shifted into his wolf form. The shift was instantaneous. His clothing melted to his human body as the shift took over. His black werewolf frame took up the majority of my kitchen. His claws dug into my hardwood floor, leaving deep gouges in it. His back arched, head and front paws lowered like he was about to bite me. This wolf was the dang size of a small pony. Standard size to most, but to me, this wolf was a tank. My small table screeched across the floor to make room for his bulk. My laptop slid off the tabletop and clattered into the seat of the chair.

The brown-haired man by the front of my kitchen also shifted. His werewolf frame, slightly smaller and gray. I swallowed. They snarled, advancing toward me. I let out a slow breath, firing a shot at the gray one who was closest. The bullet pierced his shoulder, but did not drop him nor did he flinch.

The black werewolf bit my leg, dragging me down to the floor. I screamed, hitting the ground with a thud. I had a death grip on the 9mm, I brought it up, firing a shot into his abdomen. The werewolf growled, shifting into his human form, the blood and bullet not stopping his advances. His body rejected the bullet, pushing it back out of his olive-colored skin. My eyes widened, not knowing they could do that so easily. His skin sealed over like goo oozing over the side of a countertop.

The blond man ripped off my pajama pants with one hand while the other held me by my throat. His green eyes glowing bright swirled with hunger and lust. I beat onto his chest to get him off of me. Sucking in a lungful of air burned my throat. Bringing my legs to my chest, I tried to lift him off. With one hand, he silenced the motion by tightening his grip on my throat while his other hand pressed hard on my left thigh. His grip tightened around my neck. I could hardly breathe. I felt my eyes roll into the back of my head. I gasped but no air rushed inside my lungs. The brown-haired man yanked the pistol out of my hand. Hands on his chest, I tried to push him again off but couldn’t. He was like steel.

“You smell delicious,” the blond on top of me whispered in my ear, dropping lower on my body threatening to suffocate me with his weight.

His hard arousal pressed the inside of my thigh. My black cotton thong underwear was the only clothing blocking him from taking me and I was grateful for the little bit that was there. I tried to move my legs and kick again, but failed, unable to move. My hands on his chest kept pushing back with everything I had.

The first man stood over me with the 9mm pointed at my head. “Don’t scream. He’ll be done soon.”

Before my muddled brain could process what the brute had said, air rushed into my lungs burning with crispness. A weight was yanked off my body. My neck craned back and I looked up, my hazy vision taking in two sets of feet. The blond was off of me. I rolled to my side, scooting my back close against the base of the cabinets, coughing and thinking of nothing aside from my next breath and not letting the man on top of me again. I curled myself into a ball, my now clear eyes glancing around the kitchen for my pistol. Spotting the gun by the fridge, I crawled to it.

A shot rang out through my kitchen. One of the men dropped to the floor, eyes open and staring at me, but not seeing me, never seeing anything again. Pure silver gushed from the open wound in his head. I reached my pistol, coughing still from the roughness in my throat. Hand on the slide, I slid it back, forcing a bullet in the chamber. Even with the gun being automatic, this was habitual. I aimed at the other man’s back, firing a shot at his kidneys. The bullet hit true, dropping the man to his knees.

The person who'd shot the first man, my rescuer, put a final bullet in the second man’s head. I closed my eyes at the sound, flinching slightly. Silver gushed from the now dead man’s head. The bitter iron smell made me gag. The perky aroma of coffee didn’t help.

Tears formed along the edges of my eyes and I sucked the tears, the fear and the rushing adrenaline made my body shake. My enemies were dead. I was saved and safe. I pulled my knees to my chest and allowed myself a moment to cry. I could feel my rescuer standing there, waiting for me patiently. I hadn't even looked at them properly yet. I had no clue if they were male or female. I was just glad I was alive. This night could have turned out far worse. I let out a shuddering breath, calming myself.

“You all right?” my rescuer asked.

“Evander?”

“Yeah,” he said coolly.

“I got bit and it burns,” I said. “But I’m all right.”

Evander knelt down beside me, taking my right thigh in his hands. I twitched at his touch and the pain from my leg. He looked it over and grimaced. Getting up, he turned the kitchen light on and I got my first look at my wound. The area was red and inflamed. Blood coagulated and bubbled together. I put a hand on my mouth, swallowing down bile.

“You won’t change,” Evander commented dryly, as he wetted a kitchen towel. “A werewolf’s bite is more painful than anything.”

I gasped as he pressed the hot towel to my leg. “Blood to blood by the full moon or you’re born that way.”

Evander smirked. “Yep.”

He pressed my wound together, getting the bubbling blood to ooze out of my leg. I stuck my hand into my mouth to keep from crying out. I couldn’t look, so I focused on the shattered chair and laptop trying to decide from here if the laptop survived.

Evander worked, going back and forth from the kitchen sink to me. He didn’t say a word. I was immensely relieved it wasn’t a full moon nor was the guy bleeding on me, so I wouldn’t turn into a were. Not that I had any qualms against being a were in principle, but being turned by a rogue brought on a whole slew of issues. Finding a pack would be difficult. Werewolves were extremely particular on how someone originated. They wanted to know details, down to every miniscule word and interaction. And no one wanted to be a lone wolf. Not only because the animal instinct would drive you mad without a community, but lone wolves often had a target on their back. It was always safest in numbers for wolves.

I was distracted from my thoughts by movement out of the corner of my eye. Luell sauntered into the kitchen, sitting next to Evander and purred.

“Oh, now you like me,” he said to Luell, patting her on the back before standing up. “Let me help you to bed. You’re going to be sore.”

I shook my head. “I can’t sleep. Not after that.”

“Couch?”

“Please,” I smiled. “Can you grab my phone, please?”

I went to stand, but he scooped me up in his arms. My cheeks flamed from being held in my half-naked state. I wanted my pajama pants back on. However, the bite on my thigh needed open air, and pajama pants would stick to the open wound. My athletic shorts would be nice to have right about now.

At least I still have my shirt on. I glanced at Evander and blushed deeper. His upper lip quirked without looking directly at me.

I felt his muscles flex as he lifted me. I wasn’t overweight by any means, but I wasn’t a toothpick either. Somewhere between lithe, muscularly firm, and a lover of cheeseburgers. Being a touch over five foot four and wearing size six jeans, I would put myself on the medium spectrum. Evander didn’t balk at my physique though. If he thought something, it never registered.

He set me gently down on my loveseat, pulling the throw down over me. Scooting the coffee table closer, he popped my right leg on top with pillows underneath.

“Keep it propped so it doesn’t swell,” he instructed.

Evander grabbed my phone from where I told him I'd seen it last and brought it back to me. He went back to the kitchen, grabbing each man under the arms and lifted them with ease, dragging them out the back door. I watched him. There wasn’t blood, which I found interesting, but pools of silver from where they each had been struck. I found it a tad unsettling. Blood pooling meant death; it meant the decision to kill was final. No blood was concerning. Would they be able to come back and get me? Were they truly dead? Did werewolves die from a silver bullet to the head? I had no idea. Even Lazaro never confirmed my questions to it all.

I sighed. How would those men know I would be here? I told no one but my uncle. Unless I was seen coming out to this property. I wasn’t exactly discreet about moving. Didn't think I needed to be.

And I had no idea what it was about the key they wanted. The only key I had besides my main ones was one my grandmother gave me before she passed on. It was old and an heirloom. It opened absolutely nothing, but it was pretty, and I liked to look at it when I got particularly sentimental.

Evander came back inside, shutting the door behind him and locking it. He strode into my living room, standing in front of me, blocking the tv I was mindlessly staring at.

“Who are you?” He demanded, scowling.

“Zuri Barsotti.”

Evander crossed his arms. “Quit lying.”

I laughed. “I’m not lying. My name is Zuri Ariella Barsotti.”

“Prove it.”

My jaw tightened. “My purse is in my bedroom hanging over the end of the bedframe. Rummage through since you broke into my house,” I hissed.

“My breaking in saved your ass,” he quipped back.

“Well thanks for saving me,” I grumbled. “But do you really have to be a jerk faced butt nugget?”

Evander harrumphed, turning on his heel, and taking long, powerful strides into my bedroom. He rifled through my purse, opening my wallet. His scowl deepened, pulling out my driver’s license and inspecting it. I grinned.

His head snapped over to me, his left brow perking up while his deep voice rumbled, “Explain to me what the hell the Moon Walkers are doing here!”

I shook my head. “I didn’t know what pack they came from. I don’t know who they are. I thought they were here because of Lazaro Sandalio.”

“What?” Evander scrunched his face. “How in the world did you get messed in with him?”

My face heated. The blood throughout my body boiled. I closed my mouth. I wasn’t going to tell this man another iota about myself. I owed him nothing... except my life. My jaw worked back and forth. Dammit to hell.

My eyes couldn’t meet his angered gaze for a moment. “We were an item… for a while,” I admitted.

Evander’s lip curled. “You dated the heir to the Sandalio Mob! What the hell kind of woman are you?”

I brushed the tears back into my hair. “A woman who was in love, who was dumped, who at the time didn’t know who he was until later, and who won’t make the same mistake, ever again.”

My eyes focused on the neatly stitched lines of my throw blanket. The purples and grays swirled together to paint a picture of a faerie in the woods, sitting on a stump, distracting me for a moment. How nice it must be to have wings to fly away with the change of wind; to leave when the world started to crush in or start over wherever her wings could take her when needed.

Evander sat on the love seat to my right with a sigh of exasperation. Luell jumped in his lap, purring contentedly. I glared at my fluffy two-timing calico. Evander gently stroked her fur, scratching her behind the ears. He stared at my leg for a moment before his expression softened.

“You okay?” He finally asked. “I called the cops and told them what happened.”

I nodded. “Thanks, and I’m good. Nothing some aspirin won’t cure. You’re obsessed with this house, why?”

Evander scowled, his fists clenching as his jaw set. “This house was in my family for generations. Greedy dragons at the Bank of West OKimma raised the property taxes until my grandmother couldn’t afford it. I was about to buy it back when they accepted your cash offer and the ‘as is’ addendum,” he finished with a glare as if I had stolen it from his grandmother myself.

“Did your obsession lead you to come to my rescue?”

Evander smirked, the disbelief of who I was involved with in our conversation still lingering in his eyes. He was distant, trying to be casual and friendly but struggling to find the happy medium between his anger at the situation and being polite to someone he just met. “I was driving to the bar, Lonesome Lenny’s, when I saw two men hop the fence.”

I shrugged. It was a possibility. There was a bar called Lonesome Lenny’s, about a half mile up the road on the right. There was only one road leading past my house. He could have very well been on his way there. However, something niggled in the back of my mind warning me that his story was fake. If he saw men hop the fence, why not come to my aid sooner?

Come morning, I’m ordering a security system, buying deadbolts and a spell from the coven of witches in town.

The silence in the house, besides Evander and myself breathing, settled me down. His presence, even though I didn’t care to have it at the moment, was comforting, especially after the encounter almost a half hour ago; Evander being here took some of the spook out of being alone. I slumped down in the cushions, curling myself over the arm of the loveseat. My body ached, my heart hurt and I felt so displaced.

Never in my wildest days had I experienced something so vulgar and threatening. The attempt on my body scared me, but nothing near as terrifying as the afterwards did. What if they tortured me? Removed my limbs? Or hacked me into pieces while I was alive to watch? What if they took me someplace, or removed my eyes, or drowned me? I shuddered. Drowning was my biggest fear - not being able to see the bottom of a lake and not knowing what was underneath was terrifying.

Knocking came from the door and Evander answered it stepping outside to talk to one of the officers. The lights from their cars flashed blue and red inside, reflecting off the windows and the tv. A human officer dressed in dark blue with lime green reflectors sewn on his uniform, came inside the doorway.

“Ma’am, you all right?” He asked.

I nodded. “Yeah. Bitten and a little shaken, but I’m all right.”

“Care to tell me the details?”

I relayed to him what happened, down to every word and detail. He took my statement. At the same time, I recorded the conversation on my phone in case something backfired. With my statement completed, he left. I watched out the window as an ambulance came to get the bodies. I sighed, leaning my head back against the couch. Evander took a seat beside me.

“Are you okay?” He asked.

I nodded. “Yeah… Thank you for being here.”

“I’ll stay until you fall asleep.”

I could only nod again. With the adrenaline wearing off, it made my body crash hard.

Zuri

Come morning Evander was gone. It was how I liked it. I didn’t want to be forced to make awkward conversation or answer a slew of questions about myself or what those men wanted with me and this key.

I sighed, alone in my quiet home. It gave me goosebumps and I found myself constantly staring out the living room window. The kitchen floor was spotless like last night never happened. Groaning, I rose off the loveseat. My leg was sore and stiff. The wound had begun to scab over. Evander had put some ointment on it last night after the police left, stating it would help with the healing. Whatever it was, it did make it feel better. Other than that, I felt fine.

After relieving myself, I walked into the kitchen to start a fresh pot of coffee. A note propped itself against the coffee pot.

I put the note in the junk drawer. “Why call when you’ll just show up?” I grumbled.

I made coffee and distracted myself to begin work early. My bosses didn't expect me to clock in for a few days, but I wanted to impress them by knowing what I was doing with this new system. Plus, they were paying me an exorbitant amount since I got a raise. I might as well get to know what I was doing before I started talking to facilities and coordinating patient’s care. I wanted work to clear my mind of last night, of those men breaking into my house.

Shuddering, I thanked whoever was looking out for me. Opening my laptop, I clicked the search engine and typed in Moon Walkers. Dozens of articles came up of deaths, murders, suicides, and those who were missing. Hundreds of articles detailed the ruthlessness of the werewolf pack.

“Joy,” I mumbled, sighing heavily and resting my head in my hands. “I’m on their fuckin’ radar.”

At least the Sandalio Mob was quiet about their inner workings. I had no idea Lazaro was a mobster until he slipped one day stating he needed to handle some mob business; and because he slipped and told me, I was taken to the mob business directly. The pack swore me to secrecy after Lazaro came clean about telling me. Pain of death sounded pretty serious. They didn't have to threaten me twice.

I deleted the search history to begin fresh. I wanted to know what the Moon Walkers wanted with a key. I found nothing. I even tried to find information about old keys, like my key from my Gramma. Nothing.

I typed in Evander Akselsen. Nothing. No social media, no newspaper articles, no awards, no anything. I even searched in my medical databases. Nothing. It was like he didn’t even exist. I frowned. Even when I typed in my name, something showed up.

Something is wrong with all I’m finding, I thought. My body tensed from the internal warning in my gut. My chair screeched back as I went to grab another gun I had stashed away. Someone was after me for some reason. Evander was as much a suspect as the Moon Walkers.

I lifted the mattress at the end of the bed. I pulled out my .357, rolling the barrel over to see if it was still loaded and ready. It was a tough gun for me to shoot because the grip was bigger than my hand so it wanted to kick out, but one I managed quite well. I needed to get my other 9mm from my bronco. I changed my clothes, getting out of my pajamas. Staring at the shirt and pants on the floor made me shudder. I felt violated. I kicked the pants toward the laundry hamper. I shoved the .357 into the holster I attached to my hip. My cream-colored loose blouse came down to help conceal my gun. I undid the braid in my hair, piling it on top of my head in a giant wavy ponytail.

Walking back into the kitchen, I stared out the window. I watched the heating and cooling men arrive in a work van at the gate. I walked around to the kitchen to where my keys hung and clicked a button for the gate to open. The work van drove in.

Two men walked toward my front door. I opened the door before they could knock.

“Good morning… Ms. Barsotti,” he paused looking at the clip board. “We’re here to install your heating and cooling.”

“Sounds great,” I replied, trying to sound polite like nothing from last night bothered me.

“Sign here and we will get started.”

I signed my name. They took the papers and went back to their rig. Going to my room, I opened the closet to where I had a small wooden box of trinkets from my childhood. I pulled out the key my grandmother had given me along with her scribbled note, I’d read thousands of times.

Some keys unlock treasure, some secrets. Most often it’s the truth. Be careful what you unlock, Zuri, for door nor chest can be re-sealed. Also, hide this key from your mother, but more so from your father. I’m so sorry to put you in the middle of this.

Love, Gramma Kaethe

I turned the key over in my hand. It was small and silver with three pointed teeth. One side had a tree while the other had a goat. I scowled at it, wondering if it opened an old antique hutch or ornate vintage door. Along the side of it there was something scribbled, but I couldn’t make it out. I clutched the key in my hand, focusing my attention back on the note.

I frowned, wondering what she meant. How would I even know what this unlocked? How did Gramma Kaethe even come by such an item? And is this the key those men were after? I frowned, racking my brain for any other memory of Kaethe telling me anything important, but all I could recall was her recipe for a pie crust. Hiding it from my mother made sense. Whether or not my mother was a queen or a druggie made little difference to me; she would never get it. I shoved the key into my pocket as a precaution. My gut told me to keep this safe. My Uncle always mentioned following a gut instinct. Whatever this key was, it needed to be kept safe. And it was safest on my person.

I checked the back door, making certain it was locked. I went out the front door, staring at my lonely green bronco in the driveway. I grabbed my long hunting knife I hid under the couch, strapping it to my belt on the hip opposite my gun.

You need to be prepared, Zuri, for anything. Nothing is more dangerous than a woman who’s unprepared. That’s when others strike and you will lose. My uncles’ words rang in my ears. He was right, of course.

If I had lost my head last night, I would’ve been dead. If it weren’t for Evander, I very well could've been. Thanks to Syrus, I was prepared. Keeping my head allowed me to pull off a few shots and keep my assailants busy enough for help to arrive. Most would call me insane, or overly prepared. But living the life I had, I was terrified of people taking me from my home.

With a deep breath, I opened my front door. My plan was to walk the property, see how people were getting in; like if the fence was down and where I could strategically place cameras.

No one was going to break into my home again or put me in danger. I stepped off the front porch, looking both ways and listening. The skin on the back of my neck didn’t prickle so I continued my path; taking a turn to the right of the house, toward the better part of the ten acres of woods, I noted several places that would be good for cameras to watch the backdoor and the woodlands. My hand rested on the grip of my gun. My finger flicked for the safety, forgetting it didn’t have one.

“Fuck it,” I said, drawing it out of the holster. I felt the need to patrol my grounds and felt secure with a gun in my hand.

I pulled the hammer back, even though I didn’t have to, it was reflexive. I was ready for whatever was out there that wanted me. Part of me didn’t understand it. I kept to myself, I hardly went out and partied at clubs. For that matter I had two friends: Gretchen from work and my childhood friend, Adiva, who lived over an hour away. I smiled, missing Adiva. Her name fit her perfectly as she was the most exuberant out of anyone I ever met. She was always well dressed and flashy. I need to text her later, I reminded myself.

The trail I was on led deep into the forest. Moss hung down from the trees. Old rotting branches barely hung onto the trees. Overgrowth of ivy and other vegetation over the forest floor surrounded the scraggly and unkept trees.

I licked my lips, plugging along the trail. I would need an arborist to come in and clean some of this up, or do it myself to save money. However, ten acres was a tad overwhelming to do alone. By the time I got one area pruned and moved onto the next, the first one would need to be done again. Calling an arborist would be better, even if I paid thousands more.

I pursed my lips to the side, I’m going to work hard and do it myself.

Howls came from inside the forest. I paused, waiting to hear if they were wolves or were. The werewolves in OKimma didn’t howl very often. When they did, the hairs on my arms stood up and the need to run and hide took over. It wasn’t a lonesome howl a typical wolf emitted, but something along the lines of anger, greed and the lust to kill. I don’t know how I could tell the difference. I just knew.

I bit my bottom lip, shaking my body free of its nerves. “Cool it, Zuri,” I soothed. “Level head, deep breaths.”

I took another deep breath to focus my mind. My eyes scanned back and forth for any minute detail. Something I might have missed like a secret door in a tree, or a bunker in the ground, or cubby. A rune even. I wanted to find something, a secret way to get to me on my land that those men might have used. I saw nothing. I walked along the forest path to the other side of the property. When the tall black fence greeted my jumpy eyesight, I turned around and went back the way I came. My nerves were too worked up to catch anything important. Evander mentioned those men hopped the fence and they very well could have.

My lips pursed to the side. I set the hammer on the gun back and holstered it. My other hand tapped the pocket where the key was. I asked Syrus about it once. He didn’t know. Neither did Espe. Gramma Kaethe died when I was a child and that was when I inherited the box with the key, though I had no idea what to do with it at six years old.

I need clues. I need to understand why this key is so important to the werewolves. It’s just a key.

Daylight sparkled in front me. The cedar shakes of my home brought me instant relief; my stomach fluttered. However, it was short lived. Mr. Arthur Sandalio, along with five men, stared me down from the gravel driveway. Two more came out of my house from the front and back doors. Eight men and only six bullets in my chamber. I straightened my back, keeping my gun out at my side while plastering an even look on my face.

“Afternoon, Mr. Sandalio,” I called.

Mr. Sandalio’s gray pompadour hairstyle held tight in the wind due to all the gel. A tailored deep hunter green suit hugged his frame, accentuating his imposing figure and olive complexion. I swallowed nervously. I had only seen him wear that suit when it meant crucial business like me getting sworn to pack secrecy when Lazaro slipped up. His henchmen crossed their arms, exposing their own shiny Ruger’s on their hips.

“Zuri,” he began in a businesslike fashion. “I was informed you had visitors late last night. What was it about?”

I shrugged, attempting to be nonchalant. “I don’t know, Mr. Sandalio. They mentioned a key. Since you had men in my home, did you find one, other than the ones I have for everyday use?”

Arthur scowled. “Don’t get smart with me girl! Where’s the key?”

My face hardened. “I don’t know what you’re talking about, sir.”

“I know you do. It’s a small key, silver, with three pointed teeth on the bit, a tree of life on one side of the bow and an hourglass and goat on the other. Around the shaft and collar, it has writing ‘For those that shall seek, will find and those that shall protect, will endure’.”

I refrained from touching my pocket where the key he just described lay hidden. Instead, I shook my head. “Never seen it or heard of it.”

Arthur clapped his hands. “Well then, we will leave you alone. By the way, Lazaro wants the bronco back.”

I swore the blood boiling under my skin made my skin match my hair. I wasn’t about to cow down to his intimidation. “The title of the bronco is in my name. If he wants it, he can pay me for it.”

“Stupid twit!” Mr. Sandalio fumed, pulling at the crease of his suit. “I told him not to date humans! We shall be watching you closely, Zuri.”

“As you please.” I said, striding past him to my bronco.

Since people kept getting into my house, I left it unlocked. I had the one thing they were looking for and everything else was replaceable. Luell would hide in the bathroom cabinet. She always hid in the bathroom when someone she didn’t like came over.

The car door creaked open, and I checked the back seat. When no one was there, I clambered in, slammed the door shut and locked it. Taking the extra set of keys out of my cup holder, I stuck it in the ignition and turned it over. I put the bronco in drive and I took off to the one place even wolves wouldn’t go.

Zuri

Holdur’s ‘Mythical’ Shoppe sign crackled with blue neon lighting slowly burning out. The man who owned it was as eccentric as the items he carried. I had been in Holdur’s shop as a young kid with my uncle and here I was again. Holdur, an old and grumbly dragon shifter, remembered everyone who came in his shop. He never forgot a transaction nor a transgression like what happened with my uncle’s friend who pissed him off. And I wasn’t about to cross him.

I took a deep breath, getting out of my rig. “Here I go.”

I jogged across the street, glancing everywhere as I did. I opened the shop door and slipped inside, breathing a sigh of relief upon not seeing wolves. The place had a musty smell like wet leaves in the fall. Holdur glanced at me over his red rimmed spectacles as I navigated my way to him through shelves upon racks of items packed together like an organized hoarder home.

“Zuri Barsotti, what brings you here without your Uncle Syrus… Faulkner isn’t it?” Holdur finished with a sweet, old man grin.

I smiled back. “Yes, that’s correct. I need information on an item left to me by my Gramma Kaethe. It’s old with an interesting inscription.”

I fumbled with the key in my pocket. Part of me was nervous about showing Holdur the key. I didn’t want to provoke his ire, but I needed answers to understand what I had. Hairs on my arms raised. Dragons tended not to involve themselves with any werewolf dealings and I was indirectly involved.

Holdur slammed his work book shut. A twinkling gleam appeared in his vermilion eyes. Holdur fancied old writing be it in a book, on a stone or key. Vermilion lizard-like scales appeared on his hands then faded. Definitely interested. I withdrew the key from my pocket, holding it in my hands. Holdur bent down, taking in the scent first. A deep scowl creased his brow. He gently turned the key over in my hand.

“Is this a joke, Zuri?” Holdur demanded, his face pocking with red blotches. Scales quickly appeared and faded on his face.

I took my key back, shoved it in my pocket, and swallowed. “I have no idea what it is! As far as I’m concerned it’s an old weird key.”

Holdur deflated. Scales appeared across his nose as he took in a deep breath. He leaned over the counter and sniffed me again. “Honesty. A good quality about you.”

Holdur walked around the counter coming to my side. The man towered over me, smelling of smoky applewood, and ashes. He put a hand on my shoulder, leaning down to meet my gaze. Something about this key sent shivers down my spine. It was one of the reasons why I put it in a box and never opened the damn thing. There was something ominous about it.

“Remember the war between wolf packs?”

I nodded slightly, then shrugged like a fool lost for words. I hadn’t a clue what he was talking about. Werewolves were always fighting over territory so it was difficult to pinpoint which war Holdur was referring to. I never paid attention.

The dragon’s eyes narrowed. “The war I’m referring to is the war between the Moon Walkers and the Vilkas.”

I shook my head. “Never heard of that war.”

Holdur sighed. “You were too young to remember it anyways. The leader of the Moon Walkers wanted complete control of all wolfpacks. He wanted to be the sole dominant alpha instead of each clan having their own and getting along peaceably. The other wolf packs formed the Vilkas, and made a stand. However, the Moon Walkers planned to eradicate the Vilkas with a key that opened the portal to the underworld. A key that would bring destruction to everyone.”

I swallowed. Oh shit. I stared down at my boots. That was not what I was expecting. Although, I wasn’t sure what I really was expecting. What in the gods was I going to do now? Moon Walkers were after me, now the Sandalio Mob and who knows who else?

“And you have that key.” Holdur said, breaking me from my thoughts.

I blinked. Oh shit, oh shit… Oh Gramma, what have you done and now passed to me? So many questions and answers I would never receive. I glanced back up at Holdur waiting to hear more with possible instructions of what to do.

The dragon continued, going back around behind the counter, “The packs separated, each claiming territory, but remained at odds. Silent battles have been happening over the years. The Vilkas asked us Dragons for aid, but we refused. As the saying goes ‘not my monkeys, not my circus’.”

I nodded. “Who is the leader of the Vilkas and the Moon Walkers.”

“Vorath Luciani, a werewolf created by blood to blood, runs the Moon Walkers. Royan Pright, a werewolf born, runs the Vilkas.”

“Who made the key?” I pressed.

I wanted all the information I could get my hands on. Dragons were a plethora of it. It was easier to ask than spend hours reading a book that gave limited or no answers.

Holdur sighed, leaning against the counter. “There are two Gods – Elohi the God of light and heaven, and Diomedes, the god of darkness and the underworld. Diomedes tried to overthrow his brother and plunge the world in darkness. Elohi caught wind of his plans and had a silversmith create the key to lock up his brother for eternity. Long story short, Elohi won, Diomedes is down below,” Holdur pointed to the ground. “Somehow, no one knows how, Elohi lost the key. The god searched, but never found it. Now it is in your possession.”

“So, how do I find Elohi? A temple or shrine?”

Holdur laughed. “You don’t. Elohi hasn’t been around in a thousand years or so. No one knows where he is. Keep it safe, for not only the werewolves' fates rest in your hands. Our conversation is safe,” Holdur promised. “Now, buy something in case you’re being followed to make it appear you came here on purpose.”

“Thank you.”

I left the shop with a giant paper bag of books and a vase, feeling more hopeless than I cared to think about. Opening the back of my rig, I carefully set my purchases in. I got in my bronco, leaning my head against the seat with a sigh. At least in this part of town I was relatively safe. Werewolves pissed off the dragons so badly, they were enemies. I remember some wolfpacks amended ties, but mostly wolves were not welcome in West OKimma.

I checked the backseat again to be certain no one was there. Wolves showing up randomly had me on edge. I had nowhere to run or turn to. My family would not help me or save me. My mother was in an insane asylum last I heard. I had no idea who my father was. I had Syrus, but Espe did not like me at the house. For some reason, I was left with werewolf items by my grandmother. Nothing about my family made sense to me; everything was swept under the rug like it didn’t matter.

Sighing, I ran my fingers through my hair, grabbing and pulling slightly. I locked the doors to the bronco and turned it over. I sat there, listening to the engine rumble, hands on the steering wheel. I curled down in the seat, resting a foot on the side and bringing my right leg up to my chest, resting my chin on my knee. My fingers tapped the wheel.

“My mother supposedly went insane after I was born. No one knows why,” I spoke out loud.

I scowled, pursed my lips and scrunched my nose. I needed answers to my bloodline and lineage. Answers started with me, and it was in my blood. I’m gonna get my blood checked, I decided. There had to be a reason no one in this crazy family talked. I had to be part-paranormal, something that kept everyone quiet. I had to find out what it was.

In fact, most creatures in Quivleren were not human. I was lucky to run into a human twice in one week unless I deliberately sought one out. Made sense since Quivleren politics favored the magical. Humans lost the genetic lottery centuries ago as we started interbreeding.

There were also two castles ruling all Quivleren. Kadia and Toan were ruled by the overtly rich and incredibly powerful. From there, each major city had a governor. There were only six of those, but they operated like mini countries with their own rules and laws despite still answering to the castles. And some cities were nightmares. Chay was a city of faeries no one dared set foot in since, as a species, they were known for their nastiness. Just down the road from the damn faeries was the biggest and most diverse city in Quivleren. Aiolos was a hub for major trade and most species were found there. I'd even heard of a clan of Cyclops running an incredibly successful eyewear company there, as odd as it sounded.

I shook my head, refocusing my train of thought. If I know what I am, it may answer why my Gramma left this to me, I reasoned. What did Gramma see in me? Why did she think I could handle this when one of my uncles or aunts would have been stronger, more credible choices?

Straightening up, I checked the mirrors and pulled out into the street. I went further into downtown, making certain to stay on the dragon side. I quickly put my blinker on and pulled up to the place I needed.

I walked up to the medical counter. The woman behind smiled, opening the glass window. “Hello Miss,” the mousey petite woman said. “What will we be seeing you for?”

“I would like to get my blood drawn-”

“Are you pregnant?” she asked, chipperly interrupting me.

I shook my head. “Oh no. I want to get my DNA tested-”

“For STD’s?” she interrupted again, eyebrows raised.

I glowered, reading her name tag. “Obviously, Felicia, you believe I’m some kind of whore. Unlike most you may see, I prefer my legs closed. I want my DNA tested to find out my lineage. Also, I want to order my birth certificate. Is this acceptable?”

Her face turned bright red. “I’m so sorry. I didn't mean to imply anything.”

“Yeah, try listening,” I replied evenly. “Can these two things be done today?”

Felicia clicked on her computer screen. “Yes, it can. Please have a seat and fill these out. Someone will be with you shortly.”

I took the clipboard she handed me and sat down on the other end of the waiting room, back to the wall and facing the door. I filled out the required information, reading the fine print that DNA testing could take up to four weeks to process. The paperwork asked if I wanted to know who and what genealogy wise; who my father and mother were if they were found in the database. I checked yes.

I glanced up, noticing Evander stare at my bronco from across the street. I glared. He was stalking me. I watched him walk farther down the sidewalk and out of sight.

After this, I’m going to buy security cameras. Something was happening, involving me. I wasn’t taking any chances.

Zuri

I drove home, feeling slightly better and I wondered about Evander; why was he following me? Was he after the key too, or was there something else? A cotton ball and tape covered my left arm. The security system crinkled in a paperback on the passenger seat. It gave me peace of mind.

I drove to the sketchy side of town, where a prominent Witches Coven was. I parked at the end of a long-shaded road and turned the engine off. A wooden sign staked in the ground read Black Ash Coven.

Slowly, I made my way down the driveway. I refrained from putting my hands on my gun or in my jean pockets. The moment I stepped onto their property, I was being watched. I didn’t want to attract unnecessary attention to myself.

The witches of this coven, all dressed in black and red, looked more like high school goths. Witches emerged around me in smoking wisps, cautiously watching me as I made my way to the front of their home. They all carried on their right hip a wand, made out of what I assumed was ash wood since it was in their name. The area they lived in wasn't what I thought it would be based on the part of town they lived in. But as I walked, I saw nothing of the neighborhood I had just driven through. Their grounds were clean and immaculate. Their mansion home, large and boxy like a hospital, had beautiful gray cedar shake siding and open white framed windows.

A witch approached me, looking to be about my age. Dark eggplant eyes gazed at me, locking me in place. Her features were striking with the contoured make-up she wore, highlighting her high cheekbones and beautiful caramel skin.

“Zuri Barsotti,” a witch greeted. “What spell do you seek?”

I licked my lips. “A spell to protect my house and what’s inside.”

The woman grinned. “No need to be fearful. You mean Feenat no harm, so Feenat won’t harm you. Follow Feenat.”

I nodded. The area I was allowed to enter to wait for my spell was a sunroom with numerous plants writhing under the sunlight and misting water coming from the ceiling. I perked a brow at the plants, finding it interesting to watch.

Feenat worked, putting large pieces of plant, rock and bits of creatures into a small bottle neck shaped clear vase. Feenat’s eyes narrowed as she worked, adding in one last flower to the vase before she capped it with a cork stopper and shook it.

“Here is your spell. Directions are in the bag. You pay Feenat,” the witch said, holding out her hand.

I dug into my pocket and took out a pair of emerald earrings Lazaro had gotten me for our first-year anniversary, setting it in Feenat’s hand. I also pulled out a hundred dollars in cash, adding it to her extended hand.

“Done,” Feenat stated, grinning at the satisfactory payment. “Feenat walks you out.”

The witch led me silently to the end of the driveway where my bronco waited unhindered. Feenat spun on her heel and marched back toward the house without a word. I got inside my rig, setting my newly acquired spell on the passenger seat nestled against my new security system. I took out the directions, reading them over quickly, paying attention to the caution part written in bold purple ink - Do Spell Outside! A scowl crept over my face, seeping doubt into my head about the newly acquired spell. Witches were fickle and the validity of their spell depended upon how well they liked a person. However, I would trust one over a faerie any day. Still, it made me wonder how effective the spell would be. All I had to do was set it on the doorstep and say, ‘protect me and mine,’ and supposedly it would work.

Turning my rig over, I put it in gear and headed home. I would set up the alarms and the spell tonight, so I could actually sleep - hopefully without nightmares. If anything happened, the security system would alert my phone, so I could get prepared at a moment's notice and face whomever it happened to be.

The clock in my bronco flashed nine-thirty. With a hand on my gun, I carefully got out of my rig, listening to the area around me and expecting anything to jump out. Nothing, fortunately, happened. The hair on the back of my neck didn’t prickle nor did my stomach clench. With a deep breath, I knelt down on the porch stoop. Taking the witch’s spell out of the bag, I set the small purple glowing glass orb on the left side of the porch.

“Protect me and mine,” I said quietly.

A neon green outline of a shield appeared on my left wrist on the inside, close to my palm. It burned bright green before fading. The spell billowed purple smoke from the orb. The shimmering glass orb blossomed into the sky, floating on an invisible air stream above me. The orb burst in a glittering purple mist and covered the house. It dissipated into nothing. I scowled.

Well, hopefully this works. Good thing I got a backup. Shrugging, I went inside my quaint little home. Luell greeted me with angry mews. Navigating in the darkness, I strode past her and set the security system down on the countertop and fed the cat. Luell purred while she ate.

“I was wondering when you would get back.”

Startled, I drew my pistol and spun on my heel, finger resting beside the trigger. His face was shadowed by the darkness and the light of the moon streaming through the window. The man came forward. I pulled the hammer back. The man raised his hands.

“It’s me, Evander,” he said, flicking on the light.

I released the breath I was holding. “You need to quit that shit.”

Grumbling under my breath, I reached into the junk drawer and pulled out a white wooden square that fit into the palm of my hand. I ran it over his body while Evander glowered at me. I grinned inside, keeping my face passive. I was gifted this magical piece of goodness from Syrus.

“What are you doing?” His deep voice grumbled.

“Releasing any illusion spell you might have on you.”

Evander’s smirk reached his green eyes. “Don’t trust me?”

Part of me did trust him. He saved me from those men. He killed them for me and disposed of the bodies. He was always secretly watching out for me. Yet, he was secretly watching me. Now I protected my house and all that was mine with a spell and he’d been in the house. Too late to undo it now. Shrugging, I took a step back, sliding the tool back into the drawer.

“You didn’t answer my question,” Evander said, taking a step toward me.

My eyes narrowed, “I slightly trust you.”

“I know they’re after you.”

Evander leaned casually against the counter. His skater mop of brown hair was mussed and hid his alluring green eyes. His thick dark brows scrunched, pinching his emerald eyes together. I couldn’t decipher if he was concerned whether the Moon Walkers or the Vilkas were after me, or if he was trying to decide if I was attractive.

I crossed my arms. “Get out.”

Evander scowled. “No.”

I shook my head. I couldn’t take him on. Evander being a were gave him superior strength and sensory abilities to my dismal human ones. There was no way to make him leave. It was a moot point and I didn’t care to die yet.

Evander smirked casually at me like he knew what I wanted to do and reasoned against it. I blew out my lips, walking to the fridge. I pulled out chicken I had marinated along with a vegetable medley.

“Dinner?” I asked.

“Is this your way of asking me to stay?”

“This is my way of asking if you want to eat or starve. I know your kind likes proteins and fatty foods. You wanna eat or not since you’re not leaving?”

Evander’s sparkle left his eyes. “I don’t want to put you out.”

I shook my head, then set the meal ingredients on the counter. Preheating the oven to 350 degrees, hoping when it beeped ready, it bothered the dog’s ears. As I waited for the oven to preheat, my mind wandered to the key and all the information Holdur had given me. Setting the rice cooker up and adjusting the settings distracted me for a second, but my mind kept going over the details and I wondered if I should fill Evander in. I did slightly trust him and I needed to talk this through as I digested the information.

Evander sat at the table, watching me. His green eyes focused, taking in every movement I made. I’m sure any other person would have had an anxiety attack or be super uncomfortable under such intense scrutiny. I was used to it. Between Lazaro and my other previous relationships, mainly with werewolves although there was a werelion in there too, I was used to the feeling of being watched. It didn't bother me. I shrugged mentally, weres were all the same – watchful; no matter if they were wolf or lion. Werelions were too reclusive for me though. Boyfriend number two had been a lion and while I like a good night in, I also like to eat out. He did not. Ever.

The oven beeped. I put the chicken on a baking sheet and seasoned it to how I liked – rosemary, salt and pepper. I stuck the chicken in and set the timer. Glancing over my shoulder, Evander's green eyes were still on me. He’s not too terrible. He did save me. He’s weird for watching me though. I feel like I’ve been harder than normal since Lazaro… Is that a good word for me – hard? I sighed. I need to explain my attitude. I feel he deserves that much for saving my ass.

Taking a deep breath and humbling myself, I turned around and leaned on the counter. Evander’s eyes pinched, waiting.

“I’m sorry I come off as rough. I’m not. Or at least I don't mean to be. My heart is hurting and I don’t want to talk about it. But I’m grateful to you for saving me. Thank you.”

“Sandalio?” He asked, crossing his arms over his barrel sized muscular chest.

I shrugged, walking through the kitchen to take a seat at the table across from him. “Doesn’t matter.” With a sigh, I closed my eyes. “I got burned and I won’t let myself get scorched again,” I opened my eyes, staring right into his brilliant green. “I can’t take it. Love shouldn’t be so hurtful.”

That was a preview of Dangerous Ties: The Complete Series - Paranormal Enemies to Lovers Slow Burn Romance. To read the rest purchase the book.

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