Chapter One
The air felt wrong, like a thousand tiny needles pressing into the flesh of Alex Warren’s arms and shoulders.
He sat in his Border Patrol SUV in front of the Savage Territory station. His shift was over for the night, but he wasn’t ready to head in just yet.
Something was going down. He just didn’t know what.
He glanced at the row of black vehicles parked at an angle to the gray, cement-block building. He’d spoken with dispatch. Everyone had checked in for the night. No casualties. A few bruises, a couple of gunshot wounds, a knifing or two. But all souls accounted for.
He had an hour before dawn, so there was plenty of time to burrow down for the day. Given the needle sensation, he decided to stay put for a few more minutes. If something was in the wind, he wanted to know what was going on.
He had a companion as well, one he hadn’t asked for and who’d refused to head home on his command.
You still there, Kiara? Apparently, telepathy worked best when a witch was invisible.
Of course,
I am. I’ve already told you. I’m sticking close until you’re back at Caldion for the night.
Kiara was a beauty with large, dark brown eyes and long brown hair and he had a thing for her. But he didn’t want her close, not when every wolf instinct he possessed told him something bad was going down tonight. He needed to find a way to get rid of her, if he could.
So, you’re playing at being my bodyguard. What are you? A buck-ten?
I’ve got more curves than that, Handsome.
His jaw worked as he ground his molars. She’d taken to calling him ‘handsome’ when he was anything but. He bore hideous scars over the left side of his face and into his scalp. His left eye had been closed up for the eight years he’d been in Five Bridges. Calling him handsome was a joke.
Except she wasn’t joking.
He’d objected to the nickname when Kiara had first used it, but the woman had a stubborn streak and wouldn’t let it go. She kept saying she saw past the scars. She saw who he was and that handsome was the right word.
Like hell.
He might have been passable before his alter transformation, before he’d entered Five Bridges. But a witch had used a poisoned paste on him and left him deformed. He would have died if Alpha Fergus hadn’t gotten him the help he needed.
It had been a fiery baptism into the alter world of Five Bridges. He’d faced death a thousand times since, so at this point, he thought the introduction a fitting precursor to his normal everyday life.
If he saw trouble, he went after it.
Some said he had a death wish. He saw it differently. He stayed in the thick of things because he’d vowed to do all he could to put Five Bridges right and make Savage a better place for his wolves.
Or he’d die trying.
He was also resigned to going it alone. If he was going to face off with the Grim Reaper every night, he saw no reason to put a woman through that kind of torment.
Which brought him back to his night’s shadow.
Kiara Fleming was an intense, powerful witch who had been tracking him all week, not to mention off and on for the past month-and-a-half. He wouldn’t say he was used to her presence and for the most part she’d stayed out of his way. But she’d become a problem he didn’t know how to solve.
For one thing, his alpha-mating cycle had reached a peak and for whatever reason, he wanted the witch bad. She had a familiar floral scent that kept him locked in a vicious cycle of lust. He even knew the scent: Freesias. Sweet, delicate and something he wanted to devour.
The bigger problem was that Kiara was invisible. She’d created a spell around herself so that she couldn’t be seen and that grated on him. Could he really trust this woman? His history said he couldn’t.
So, where exactly are you? he asked. Right now. Are you on the sidewalk in front of the station? He peered straight ahead and searched the area closest to the front glass doors, trying to locate her. But he saw nothing that would indicate she was there.
I’m standing by your door, so don’t open it suddenly. I’m not in an alternate reality.
That much I remember. If he punched the air and made contact, she’d get hurt. Her invisibility shield wasn’t about protection, just subterfuge.
He still couldn’t believe she was so close. Or that she’d stuck with him all night. What gives, Kiara? Why are you still here? All this week, you’ve left by two or three. Right now, it’s past four. Dawn arrived early in the desert in July.
She didn’t answer right away. He couldn’t see her, but he could feel her nerves. Something’s not right, Warren. I’ve felt it for hours.
He repressed a sigh. He agreed with her. I know what you mean. So, maybe you should take off. I don’t want you caught in the crossfire if things go south.
No, thanks. I’m here to stay.
Kiara, seriously. I need you to leave, get yourself to safety for Christ’s sake.
Not gonna happen. I’m sticking this one out. Definitely stubborn.
He smiled. Thought I was the only one with a death wish.
That’s the last thing you have, Warren. I know the truth about you.
There it was again, her insistence she knew him. He ground his molars in quiet protest. I’m getting out of the SUV.
I’ve moved toward the rear. You’re good to go.
As he opened the door, he felt more needles, this time along both arms, a similar sensation to getting a tattoo, though not as painful. He rubbed his arms like he had a chill, but this was no chill.
He looked up into the night sky. A storm was coming. He could see a line of clouds piling in from the north. The summer monsoon season was on the city of Phoenix, and would be through August.
His scalp felt odd as though narrow lines of electricity ran over his skin. His long blond hair would begin to move around his shoulders as the storm got closer. It had happened before. Something about his wolf had started connecting with thunderstorms, another mystery of his alter existence in Five Bridges. He’d asked around, but no one had heard of the phenomenon. It seemed to be peculiar to him.
Her voice pierced his head once more. Is your storm coming?
‘His’ storm. That’s what she’d started calling it.
He had only one answer. Yes.