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.

That was a preview of Opening Danger. To read the rest purchase the book.

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