Chapter 1
Ahia
“That guy stole a shot glass.”
Jess rolled her eyes, her thumbs still lightning fast on her cell phone. “Who cares? They’re ninety-nine cents. Free, if they’ve got one of those cruise ship coupons.”
I cared. There were rules that were made to be broken, and those that were to be followed. Stealing food, medicine, a warm blanket were all okay in my book. But a shot glass? Who the hell needed to steal a shot glass? This was just some punk-ass kid looking for a thrill or thumbing his nose at “the man’.”
I should know. I’d been watching punk-ass kids grow up for five thousand years. I’m sure at one point I’d been a punk-ass kid. Heck, I probably wasn’t too far from one now.
“We’re supposed to care. That’s why they pay us the big bucks.”
Jess snorted. “Then you go take care of it. I’m one text away from the end of my shift.”
I watched the guy, boy actually, as he ran his fingers across a stack of postcards and meandered with excessive casualness toward the door.
“Hey!”
The guy blinked as I suddenly appeared before him. Jess wouldn’t have looked up from her phone for anything, and none of the tourists in the store were paying the slightest bit of attention to me.
“I saw you take that shot glass.” I extended a hand toward the guy for the stolen item.
He smirked. “I put it back.”
“No. You didn’t.”
The smirk grew into a full-on grin. “This shot glass?” He brought his hand to the front and bounced the item a few times on his palm before shoving it down the front of his pants. “Come and get it, baby.”
Just to make sure I got the creepy sexual innuendo, the guy jiggled his pants. They were tight enough that I could see the bulge of the shot glass right against the bulge of his manhood. Lovely. Just lovely.
Any other employee would have let him walk. Heck, any other employee would have done like Jess and just ignored the whole thing. But I hated when people broke the rules—especially stupid, cocky, slimeballs like this.
He wanted me to come and get it? Fine. I reached out and grabbed the guy’s crotch. His grin froze in place, his eyes widening. Then I sent a small surge of energy right into his pants. That’s all it took. The glass shattered. He shrieked soprano. And it was my turn to grin. “Know what? I think I’m gonna let you keep that shot glass.”
He scurried out the door and my moment of satisfaction quickly faded. My temper always seemed to get the best of me. Like Jess had said, it was a ninety-nine cent shot glass that the owners gave away free to get cruise-ship tourists into their store—a store filled with imported crap that had pictures of bears and moose, every last item emblazoned with ‘Alaska’ in bold letters.
It wasn’t just that I’d employed excessive violence in the punishment of what wouldn’t have amounted to even a misdemeanor that bothered me, it was my increasing impatience with humans. As well as werewolves, if I were to be perfectly honest.
The door chimed and I looked up to see four brawny men enter the shop, one a wall of muscle, dark hair escaping from a knit cap, a neatly trimmed beard lining his jaw. “Emasculate another one, Ahia? What did this one do, ask you out for dinner?”
I couldn’t help the smile curling up the edges of my mouth as I walked over. These were my guys, part of my pack, and I felt understandable feelings of affection and protection whenever they were near. The fact that one of them was the Alpha didn’t change that. “He stole a shot glass, Brent.”
“Whoa, that’s a hanging offence where I come from.”
“Surprised you didn’t kill him for that one.”
“You gonna hunt him down later and slit his throat?”
Tough talk from the peanut gallery. I’d known all of them since they were in diapers. I’d known their parents and grandparents and great grandparents since they were in diapers, but for now, at this point in our life, we all seemed somewhat close in age. Peers. Friends. Mine. Mine to care for, although according to pack law they were the ones who were supposed to protect and care for me—for all of eternity.
“Seriously, Ahia. He was clutching his junk. I smelled blood. You can’t do that,” Brent scolded.
It was strange getting a lecture from a man I’d seen poop his pants and eat strained peas what felt like yesterday. It always seemed strange. But he was right. I couldn’t keep doing things like this. And I was embarrassed by my display of temper and extreme measure of justice, although I wasn’t about to let these werewolves know that.
“He’ll think twice before he shoplifts again.” And he probably won’t be enjoying sexual relations, either with his hand or another person for a few weeks at least. “I didn’t do any permanent damage. Just a few little cuts, that’s all.”
“Now all he has is a broken shot glass in his pants and a bloody cock, which sounds very British.” Zeph grinned and my mood took a more positive turn. Of all the werewolves, Zeph was the most likely to approve of my hijinks.
Brent sighed and draped an arm around my shoulder, improving my mood further. He might be the Alpha, but we were still best friends. Once, when he was younger, I’d thought we could be more. Over the ages, I’d taken lovers only to watch them grow old and die in the blink of an eye. It was easier to keep things casual, but with Brent I’d let my fantasies of a lifetime mate, of children, fill my thoughts. Nephilim were supposed to be especially fertile, and although thousands of years of lovers had never once ended in pregnancy, I still had hopes.
Foolish, stupid hopes born of loneliness. It wouldn’t have been fair to Brent to tie him to my peculiar brand of crazy, to have a mate that wouldn’t age with him, that might never give him the children he so wanted. Our affair had been brief, the transition to best friends easier than it should have been. He went on to see other women, where I’d vowed to keep my legs together for a few centuries at least.
“There’s a problem up north. It’s out of our territory, in the area claimed by the Swift River Pack. They asked for you.”
His words filtered through the miasma of affection, regret, and, I’ll admit it, lust. Hey, he was a good looking guy, barely into his mid-forties. A girl could still admire, even if that ship had long since sailed.
“What is it this time?” Lately rifts had been opening around the state, swallowing up humans and spitting forth monsters. I was the only being who could see the rifts, and to my frustration I was unable to do anything about them. The monsters I could do something about. All three Alaska packs had jumped in to help eliminate these trespassers, partnering with humans to get the job done, but sometimes there was a monster beyond a werewolf’s ability to kill. That’s when I stepped in.
I was a Nephilim. Which meant I had special powers and was damned near indestructible. Plus, I had this irrational sense of protectiveness that encompassed the humans, the werewolves, the flora and fauna, the rock and dirt and ice of the land itself. They were my responsibility, and drop bears, manticores and chimeras weren’t going to take or damage one hair on their chinny-chin-chins. That protectiveness made me dangerous, it made me fight with a berserker fury. I was their last line of defense, and nothing defeated me. Well, sometimes things defeated me, but I just reassembled all my limbs, rose from the dead and went back at it until I eventually won.
“We’ve got a hydra. It killed two of the Swift River Pack and disabled one—possibly permanently. It’s taken out two boats of fishermen, as well as Old Man Bufont who was out in his canoe.”
I tamped down the blinding anger roaring through me. Werewolves dead. Humans dead. Old Man Bufont, who I’d known since he was a squalling baby, dead. Fucking hydra. Damned motherfucker. Not in my Alaska. This thing was so going down.
“Hope they didn’t cut off any of the heads,” I said, trying to keep my voice calm. I was evidently unsuccessful because there was a spark of unease in Brent’s eyes, quickly hidden. His arm dropped from around my shoulder.
They were afraid of me when I was like this. I was their greatest weapon, their best defense, their Nephilim, but Brent had once explained that when I was angry I lost anything that was human in me. Angry, I became otherworldly, more angel than human.
“No, they did their research. It’s got three heads, and venom, and has taken up residence in Martin Lake.”
Pretty far north, but it would have to be for the Swift River Pack to be involved. No matter. I could fly, and I didn’t mean by shapeshifting into a hawk. I could do that too, but I was faster just using the wings that had unexpectedly appeared from my back a few millennia ago, wings that I was able to hide and summon at will.
“Tell them I’ll take care of it. Let me just grab my purse.”
I gathered my stuff and clocked out while Brent and Drew looked over the T-shirts and Alaska-themed boxer shorts. Zeph and Nick were busy flirting with Jess who had abandoned her text conversation to lean over the counter, giving the werewolves a nice view down the neck of her shirt. The guys were such hoes’. Not that I had any room to talk. Relationships with humans were common here where the locals knew about the werewolves and lived in harmony with the pack. I’d done my fair share of fraternizing with the humans myself. I’d done my fair share of booty-calls with the werewolves too.
“See you Tuesday,” Jess called to me, leaning farther over the counter.
I was so busy paying attention to them that I almost missed the crack in the six-foot-wide space between the cabinet full of antler jewelry and leather pouches. It was a jagged lightning-shaped slash that sparkled like it had been doused with glitter.
Oh no. Not another one, and right here in the store too. I froze, my eyes fixed on the rift, poised to attack anything that came through and defend my co-worker and pack members.
Nothing came through — yet. I cast a quick glance around the store to make sure no one was watching, then edged closer to the slash of light. It was big enough to walk through, if I’d been suicidal enough to entertain such a thought.
Well aware that I probably looked like a candidate for the insane asylum to anyone watching, I walked up to the rift and touched it. This one was different from the tiny jagged tears that decorated the state like glittering strands of tinsel. It was different than the others that took humans and left monsters in their place. This one felt hot and sharp, like lava with a charge of electricity. A discordant note hit my ears, one that only I could hear. Red. Orange. Augmented fourth.
I took a few steps backward, tensing as it pulsed, yellow light forcing its way through the rift. And then it was gone. I stuck a finger into the air where it once was and felt nothing.
These rifts were getting worse, and now one had opened up right in the store where I’d worked. I was only one Nephilim. If hundreds of these opened across Alaska, I wouldn’t be able to kill the monsters fast enough. I wouldn’t be able to protect those that called this area home.
I’d swallowed my pride a few weeks back and asked for help. As much as I feared what that help would be and what it might mean for my continued existence, I knew when I was in over my head. And my life meant nothing compared to the humans and werewolves that lived here. If I died, so be it. As long as the humans and the werewolves continued on, loved and protected, I’d gladly sacrifice my life.
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