Gods and Mortals: Fourteen Free Urban Fantasy & Paranormal Novels Featuring Thor, Loki, Greek Gods, Native American Spirits, Vampires, Werewolves, & More (333 page)

The front door slammed against the wall. The explosive sound echoed through the house as did the chilly breeze that had gusted along the floor. I shivered, hidden in the semi-darkness beside the bed. The door closed itself on the backswing, cutting off the cold.

I righted myself as I caught my breath. Luckily, I’d landed on a pillow which I’d knocked off with me. Any recovery I’d experienced while I slept had vanished as soon as I hit the floor. My head pounded with renewed vigor, but I thought clearly enough to wonder if Rachel had spent the night here or with Peter. The sudden noise outside distracted me from my thoughts.

Loud snarls and low growls filled the air.

Despite Clay’s obvious wish that I stay down, I risked a look over the mattress as my eyes adjusted to the gloom. The window gave a soft glow from the streetlights. The sound of my frightened breathing echoed in the room. I quieted it, pulled myself up, and crawled over the bed toward the window. Cautiously, I inched the curtain aside to peek out.

Clay and another man fought in the snow on the front yard. I cringed at the sight of Clay’s bare feet and chest. The challenger at least had shoes and a shirt.

Clay swiped at the man, ripping a good portion of his shirt away. Good. Clay wouldn’t be the only cold one.

They skirted the direct glow of the streetlight, but didn’t stick to the shadows closest to the house. The neighbors would not only be able to hear them but see them as well. Hadn’t the idiot challenging Clay think of that before he approached our house from the front? Pack law forbade public shifting.

The snow crunched under the challenger’s feet as he rushed Clay. Clay spun and avoided the charge. He used the man’s momentum to trip him and knock him into the snow. As the man fell, he shifted noticeably.

Clay shifted further as well. His mouth extended to enable the use of his fangs. I cringed at the thought of the neighbors spotting him. There would be no way to explain away the disconcerting appearance of his ears and fangs.

The other man rolled and rose to his feet. His head had almost completely contorted to wolf form. My eyes rounded. He snapped at Clay, narrowly missing Clay’s chest. His attempt distracted Clay from blocking a well-placed punch to his gut. I cringed, then silently cheered when Clay gave back as good as he got.

The sky began to lighten, and down the road, a few of the streetlights blinked off. They needed to end this soon, but the fight didn’t seem to be winding down.

Their movements increased in speed until they mostly blurred. I heard each time one of them connected—the solid thunk of it reverberated through the house—but didn’t see anything. I hoped Clay gave more than he received.

Twice the other wolf feinted away from the house, but Clay refused to follow, forcing the challenger to come back to him. Clay would not distance himself any further from the house and leave me unprotected. The other wolf’s attempt had me wondering.

Knowing I’d regret it, I stretched my sight. I saw another blue-grey light nearby and began to doubt this fight was just another Mating challenge. As quickly as I opened my spark-filled view of the world, I closed it. It hurt, and I couldn’t afford to distract Clay with my pain.

I studied the man fighting Clay. He didn’t look like the same werewolf who’d attacked us on our way back from breakfast. The sprinkling of fur starting to cover his skin appeared lighter than the original challenger’s dark grey fur.

Despite their noise, I heard the back door open. So did Clay.

In a fierce move, he hit the other werewolf in the head with a sickening crack. The man dropped to the ground. Clay didn’t wait to see him land. He turned and ran for the house before I could even think to scramble under the bed and hide.

The front door slammed again. I thought of the damage and winced. The temperature in the room dropped further.

Clay and the new werewolf met in the living room with a thud. I didn’t think, just sprang from my crouched position near the window to scramble over the bed. It might have been safer to stay hidden, but I worried more when I couldn’t see what was happening.

I eased off the end of the mattress and edged closer to the door, trying to make them out in the dim light of the living room. I stared at the fight raging in front of me.

Two shapes struggled in the center of the brown rug. I identified Clay by his long hair. His back was to me. The other man had his arms wrapped around Clay, attempting to squeeze him. Clay fisted his hands together and hammered them down on his attacker’s face. They broke apart, the attacker almost bumping into the TV.

Cold air wrapped around my legs. I glanced at the front door, which stood ajar, but didn’t move to close it.

When I looked back at the men, I had a clear view of the attacker. I stopped breathing and stared at the man, stunned.

I’d grown accustomed to the stomach acrobatics I suffered every time I looked at Clay. Feeling them when I looked at this new wolf devastated me. I gasped in a ragged breath, hurt by fate’s cruelty. The sound distracted the newcomer, who met my eyes with recognition then calculation. Clay took advantage and brought the man down like he had the one outside. The sickening thud made me cringe.

Without thought, I moved out into the living room and stared down at the unconscious man. His short, sandy blonde hair contrasted with the brown of the rug. It moved in the breeze that swept the floor. I didn’t feel the cold as I studied his tall, lean frame. He had no facial hair. Except for the tall part, he looked like Clay’s opposite.

How could I feel that pull for two men? Sam assured me that I would know when I met the right one because there would be a pull, a burning curiosity like no other. This didn’t make any sense.

The man’s hand lay on the carpet close to me. Some of his fingernails had shifted to glossy black claws before Clay had knocked him out. Looking closer, I saw his ears had shifted, too.

“What do we do, Clay?”

I looked up at him and found him watching me closely. I shivered and didn’t look back at the man on the floor. Having all the doors open made the heat kick in but it did little to warm me.

“He’s part changed. With all the noise, I think the police will be here soon. Can we leave him here like this?”

Clay nodded and motioned me back into the bedroom. His knuckles bled, and he had the start of another black eye. I wanted to walk to him and hug him, but felt too confused. Instead, I turned away to hide my watering eyes.

In the distance, I heard sirens.

Clay put me back into bed then left, closing the door behind him. Moments later, I heard the back door close and then nothing as the sirens got closer.

Fate or not, I belonged with Clay. I wasn’t sure anymore if I was his prize or punishment, though. Regardless, he’d earned my loyalty. Reacting to someone other than Clay felt like cheating, and it bothered me a lot. I didn’t know what to do about it or how to stop it. It wasn’t something I could talk to Clay about. I had hurt him enough already. If I could trust Sam, I could maybe ask him.

The sirens quieted with a chirp before they reached the house. Muted red and blue lights danced on my bedroom wall by my head. I wondered what Clay planned to tell the police. No matter what I’d just felt for the man passed out on the living room floor, I trusted Clay completely. He had a plan, and I just needed to wait.

But Clay didn’t come back in. Instead, I heard a knock on the front door and the murmur of several voices. Exhaustion and pain, from pushing myself too soon, shivered through my body.

A
n hour later
, the full light of a new day—Wednesday morning, the beginning of Thanksgiving break—lit my room.

Clay, still bloody from the fight, stood with the officers to show them out. They had his written statement and my phone number, since I didn’t plan to stay in the house for a few nights. I’d decided we’d go to the Compound a day early. I’d waited long enough. I had too many questions to answer on my own, and a certain Elder waited for me there. I needed to talk to him.

The police believed we’d experienced a simple break in. Their deduction suited me fine. I could just imagine the line of questioning I would have endured if I’d mentioned the men had broken in to kidnap me. After seeing the second man, I had no doubt that had been their intent.

The front door closed, and I listened to Clay walk through the house and close himself in the bathroom. He needed to wash the dried blood from his face. It had served its purpose and hidden his noticeably advanced healing from the police.

Flipping back the covers, I got out of bed and started to dress. The dizziness and headache that had returned when I fell off the bed had faded while they questioned me.

I finished dressing, grabbed my messenger bag, and began to cram clothes in it. My mind wasn’t on packing so I didn’t treat it anymore gently than Clay or Luke had when they had packed it. How had I felt anything for that man on the floor? It shouldn’t have been possible. Agitation burrowed deep. When I turned toward the door and saw Clay watching me, I dropped my gaze to the floor unable to meet his calm regard. He sighed, stepped aside, and motioned for me to lead.

In the kitchen, Clay had my jacket and shoes waiting. I slipped them on, remembering at the last minute to call Rachel to let her know what happened. Thankfully, she hadn’t been home. She promised only to come back home with Peter, just to be safe.

Clay didn’t say anything as we got into the car, which was normal, but I sensed his extreme tension. My stomach churned with guilt. However, I didn’t know what to say, so I closed my eyes and tried to nap. Still needing to regain my strength, sleep wasn’t too hard to come by.

Several times, I woke to the sound of him tapping his grey nails against the steering wheel. When I opened my eyes to look at him, I could see his elongated canines. At those times, I wanted to reach over and pat his leg, but I held myself back.

When I woke to see his ears pointed too, I quietly studied him for a few minutes. I knew I was the cause of his agitation. He’d sensed my withdrawal. I hadn’t wanted him to see my confusion. I wanted to talk to Sam first, before saying anything to Clay. But my approach obviously wasn’t the right one. Clay had stuck by me through everything. I needed to trust that he wouldn’t turn away from me after I revealed what happened.

“Clay...”

He paused his tapping.

“Could you pull over for a minute?”

He glanced at me, lifted a concerned brow, but did as I asked. The tires crunched on the snowy shoulder. He stopped the car then turned toward me.

A sad smile lifted my lips. I hated to see him like this. I tapped my lips. I needed affirmation that we still had our connection, and he needed assurance I was fine.

His tight grip on the steering wheel loosened, and he shook his head in amusement. I held my breath as he leaned toward me.

Clay cradled my face in his hands and kissed me tenderly. I clutched his shirt, dragging him closer. When he opened his mouth to nip my bottom lip, I groaned and willingly let him in. We steamed the windows. My lungs burned for air. Finally, I had to pull away to catch my breath. He wrapped his arms around me and placed small gentle kisses on the top of my head.

His neck hovered in my line of sight. I could give him what he wanted. A quick bite and I wouldn’t need to worry about other potential Mates. I could Claim him as my own. But I didn’t want to hurt him anymore. Physically or emotionally. I pulled back from our make-out session.

Clay gave me one last kiss on the lips then put the car in drive. The smooth, tan skin of his very human ears called my attention, as did his clean, pink nails. He looked content, no longer tapping his fingers while he stared ahead at the snow-covered roads.

I turned away and pretended to sleep, condemning myself for my lie. My hesitation to Claim Clay didn’t stem from a concern that I would hurt him. No, just like Sam said, I selfishly didn’t want to give up my plans.

Deep down, I was unwilling to bend and try to make it work.

W
e arrived
at the Compound just as the sun’s last rays sank below the tree topped horizon. Vehicles crowded the parking area. I didn’t worry though. Holidays always drew a crowd.

Clay grabbed my bag then walked around to open my door for me. Staying close, we walked inside the Compound. Jackets and shoes filled the entry. It meant cramped quarters for the holiday, but I’d done it before.

We went to the apartment I usually stayed in with Sam, but another family with small cubs had commandeered it. After several minutes of knocking on doors, we gave up trying to find an apartment in the main Compound. We turned down a hall I typically didn’t travel—the unMated wing—and found the majority of the dorm quarters also occupied. Several men passed us as we searched. They gave us curious looks as they scented the air. I stayed close to Clay.

Clay and I grabbed the first open dorm room and put our stuff on the twin bed. We would figure out our sleeping arrangements later.

“I need to talk to Sam,” I said once we were back in the hall. Clay nodded and led the way to the main hall.

Charlene and her crew had done a wonderful job decorating the large room. Cornucopias with harvest produce sat on each of the long tables. Several turkeys with feathers made of construction paper hands hung on the walls. The cubs had obviously partaken in crafts while visiting. It amused me that Charlene insisted on celebrating the US holiday while living in Canada. Her extended adopted family didn’t seem to mind. I could hear women laughing in the attached kitchen. Fresh pumpkin pie perfumed the air.

In the midst of all the decorations, I spotted Sam. He sat with his back to me, conversing with several other men at one of the many sitting areas in the main hall. I noticed the weary slope of his shoulders. Part of me—the part that lived with him for so long and thought of him as “grandpa”—wanted to run over and hug him. I ignored that part.

Before he noticed me, I strode over and interrupted their conversation.

“It’s time we talked,” I said, tersely.

He turned toward me with a hesitant smile then quickly nodded to the others, who got up to move to another group.

“Gabby, I didn’t think you’d be up until tomorrow.”

Clay and I shared a glance. The main hall didn’t afford privacy since all the werewolves present would hear me. Then again, very few places in the Compound qualified as private to that degree. Normally, I wouldn’t care who heard me, but I had the mystery of the blue-grey werewolves to solve. I did a quick scan of the room and managed to hold back a wince of pain.

Clay gave an annoyed grunt but gently rubbed my back. He’d become adept at knowing when I used my gift.

In the brief glimpse, I’d noted the sparks all appeared normal. Well, for a werewolf anyway. But it only assured me to a degree. Although I didn’t think Sam responsible for what happened, I still wondered if he might know something about it.

“We came early because two werewolves tried breaking into my house.” I watched Sam closely as I said it.

“What?” Sam said, giving Clay a sharp look. Sam appeared genuinely upset and concerned.

“He’s still not talking,” I said. I slumped into the chair across from Sam. “I believe their intentions were to kidnap me.”

Clay lowered himself into the chair next to me. He always stayed close, and I couldn’t imagine it any other way. If it hadn’t been for Clay, the men probably would have taken me. What would have happened then? I thought about the blonde man who’d been lying on the floor, and my stomach clenched with worry. My troubled gaze swung to Clay.

Clay met my look with calm, brown eyes. Staring into their depths, a tense breath eased out of me. Sure, I had questions, but I wouldn’t let the answers to any of them affect the tie Clay and I had.

I gave Clay a small worried smile then turned my attention back to Sam. Different colored lights...a pull to another man when it should only happen once...I could come up with the only possible explanation.

“Is there more than one kind of werewolf?” I asked bluntly. Maybe I’d stir up trouble with my public questioning, but I was tired of waiting.

Sam frowned and leaned forward. “Not sure what you mean, exactly.”

Sam watched me closely. I nibbled on my lip and thought back to the original challenger. Physically, he’d looked like any other werewolf. So if Sam didn’t already know about another kind of werewolf, I didn’t think there would be a way for him to differentiate. Then I thought of the last one I saw on the floor.

“When you go fur, what color variations are possible? Different shades of fur, eyes...what about nose, or nails?”

The door to the commons opened, and a few more werewolves drifted in, slowly walking toward other groups. While they progressed across the room, they kept their heads tilted, listening as if already aware of the important conversation occurring in our small group.

“What does this have to do with—”

I held up a hand. “Bear with me, Sam. I need answers to give answers.”

Sam turned his attention to Clay.

“I already told you, he still isn’t talking. Look, is there another Elder I can talk to? One willing to answer my questions?”

I wanted to take my harsh words back when Sam’s face fell.

The expression cleared after a moment, and he slowly answered. “Fur is like hair and varies just like a human’s. Same with the eyes. We are more like dogs when it comes to our noses. Mostly dark, but we sometimes have unusual markings. Did you see an identifying mark, Gabby?”

I ignored his question. “What about the nails?”

He shrugged. “Shades of grey. Mostly a dark grey.”

“Black?”

“Well, like I said, a dark grey is possible.”

“No. I mean black. A very glossy black you could see your reflection in.”

Sam remained introspectively quiet for a full minute. The intense silence claimed my attention. Looking around, I caught the eyes of a few others in the room before they quickly looked away.

“I don’t think I’ve ever paid that much attention to our claws before. But, no, I don’t believe so.”

I slumped back in my chair, thinking. Everyone in the room watched me, waiting for what I’d say next.

Could there really be another species of werewolf? The sparks I saw indicated the possibility. But if I followed that line of reasoning, did that then mean I was another species of human? Maybe these werewolves just had different abilities. I chewed on my lip for a minute. What about the nail color? Could that small difference carry enough significance to classify two separate species? I was grasping. I needed to grasp. If there were two kinds, it could explain why I had two potential Mates.

Frustrated and still tired from my stunt with Rachel, I scowled and got to the heart of my angst. Sure, I wanted to know what the color differences meant, but I needed to know why I felt what I did when I saw that man unconscious on the floor.

Sam cleared his throat, and I ignored him. Someone spoke softly further back in the room. Others moved restlessly.

So what, if I felt the same pull for another guy? It just meant I had a choice. Wasn’t that what I wanted all along? Yet, now that I had options, I couldn’t see myself walking away from Clay...not for school, not for a career, and not for some creep who snuck into my house.

I peeked at Clay, unable to hide my turmoil. He reached out, offering his hand. His hair hid his eyes again, making it hard to read him. I looked down at his hand, calloused and so real.

Realization dawned. Clay and I held the answers. I kept my eyes trained on his hand to hide my thoughts. When I’d focused on Luke, I saw the yellow-violet spark. When I’d focused on Rachel, I’d expected to see Peter, but I hadn’t. Human vs. werewolf testing. If I was right about different species and tried the same test with Clay, I foresaw two possibilities. I would see myself as Clay’s Mate or I would see two potential Mates for myself, thus supporting my theory of another werewolf species.

Doubt crept in. What if I didn’t see myself? What if it didn’t work that way, and I saw the werewolf that Clay had knocked out?

I needed to know.

Lacing my fingers through his, I closed my eyes and focused. I held onto my need to find the perfect Mate for Clay and my hope I’d see myself.

The shock jumped from my hand to his, and my vision of the real world narrowed. I held my breath, terrified of the answer. My second sight exploded into existence. Not the great void filled with billions of sparks, but with the vibrant intensity and color of the sun. The white yellow core pulsed, its energy radiating outward, cooling to a molten orange. Hope flooded me as I realized my own spark filled my vision.

The vision closed, and my eyes once again focused on the real world. My hand still rested within Clay’s, but I caught the change in his expression. Clay glared at me. He knew what I’d done, but I couldn’t feel bad about it. Joy filled me. I’d been right. It didn’t answer my question about the variances in sparks, but I didn’t care. It had given me the answer I needed.

I smiled sweetly and leaned over to kiss him lightly on the lips. When our lips touched, something tangible changed. The joy I felt remained, but something else crept in. I pulled back, eyes wide. My heart hammered and my stomach clenched as I stared at him, unable to look away. Mesmerized.

In shock, I realized what I’d done. I’d transferred my pull to him. Only he wasn’t pulling in men. He pulled me in, and the force of it consumed me. He represented a hot fudge sundae to a diet-starved girl. Even knowing that what I felt was a result of my power, I couldn’t ignore it. He was so handsome, so perfect, and so clueless as he continued to scowl at me.