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  I watch Jared, expecting him to follow his father but he stops in front of us with Uncle Jack.

  I release Benji, holding his shoulders firmly with my hands. “Go home and give Aunt Lily a hug. I’ll see you in a little while.” I don’t care that there’s no conviction behind my words. It isn’t like I can say, ‘Have a good life, I won’t see you again.’ It’s probably true but it would just hurt both of us.

  Uncle Jack pulls a sobbing Benji into his embrace, looking at me over Benji’s dark hair. “I’m going to take him home. You head down with Jared, I’ll catch up.” With those parting words, he walks off in the direction of home.

  I watch them walk away for a second before turning back towards Jared, who’s still standing in front of me. In fact, I’m certain he moved in closer because there’s barely an inch between us. I can feel his lion’s energy crackling against my skin.

  “How are you doing, Bel?” He asks as he stares intently into my eyes. The stare goes all the way down to my toes. Holy hell. I feel a flush pulsing through my body.

  “I’m fine,” I answer curtly. Why would I answer any differently when his pride is trying to kill me?

  He growls. That growl does something to my body. I can honestly say I have never heard a growl come from a lion before; it’s quite disturbing…and arousing.

  His hot breath is almost in my face. His nostrils flare as he barks at me. “Now. Answer that again, but without the bullshit this time.” I can sense a power blazing from his lion. What’s going on?

  “Fine,” I snap. “I feel like shit. It hurts to move. It hurts to breathe. It hurts to think about the fact that I’m being sent to my death by your whole goddamn pride and no fucker seems to give a shit! There. Is that what you wanted to hear?”

  “Not exactly, but it’s much better than the first answer.” He turns and starts walking towards the arena. “Come on, you don’t want to be late.”

  The closer we get to the arena, the calmer I become. It’s like a cloud has descended over me, nothing matters but the fight I’m about to face. No amount of worrying or complaining will change a thing. I’ve got to duel no matter what; I can’t ask anyone else to fight for me.

  The pride is already circled around the arena, ready to watch the duel.

  Jared grabs my hand and pulls me through the parting crowd.

  Great, everyone is going to think I was about to run and needed escorting by the leader’s son.

  Once we get through the crowd, I pull my hand away from Jared’s.

  “It’s about time you turned up. I thought you must have run off scared,” Daniel says snarkily.

  That growling noise comes from Jared again but he doesn’t follow up with a comment.

  Grigori steps between us, stopping any verbal diarrhea from spewing out of my mouth. “Daniel, does your challenge against Rosabel still stand?”

  “She killed my brother. Too fucking right it does,” he snaps.

  “A ‘yes’ will suffice, Daniel,” Grigori says with a smirk.

  Is this really a time for jokes? One of us is going to die in a minute. Looking at Daniel’s muscular body, I have no doubt it’s going to be me.

  “Rosabel, choose a form.” Just like that, no formal wording.

  “I challenge Daniel,” Jared shouts from next to me. I had actually forgotten he was there. I flick my eyes to him in surprise and our eyes connect. My heart stutters in my chest at the emotions I see burning in his. Murmurs run through the crowd as people question why. Others are questioning if it’s even a legal move on Jared’s part.

  “Daniel, being the challenged party, you are required to choose a form. What do you choose?”

  I’m too shell-shocked to take in what’s happening around me after that.

  Jared’s fighting for me and Grigori is letting him. Why? Have I been sucked into the twilight zone or something?

  Someone’s hand grabs me, pulling me out of the arena and towards the spectators. They’re not attacking me, so I assume it’s Grigori. I can’t tear my eyes away from the two lions in the arena long enough to see who belongs to the hand. All I can see is one mass of golden fur. With the roars and yips I can hear, it’s clear someone is winning.

  It’s only a matter of minutes before it’s all over, the fur separates into two. The lion that’s moving shifts and a naked Jared is left standing in the centre of the arena.

  I manage to breathe a sigh of relief before Grigori drags me back towards the centre. He clears his throat before speaking. “Jared, as the winner, do you wish to take on Daniel’s challenge towards Rosabel?”

  “No,” is all he grumbles, as he picks up his clothes off the ground and stalks out of the arena.

  Grigori passes me off to Uncle Jack. I have no idea where he came from, or if he was even there through the fight, but he’s here now and leading me home.

  * * *

  The Pride didn’t seem to know what to do after Jared took on Daniel. It was a week before I was challenged again. I fought that time, but when I was immediately challenged again Jared jumped in and challenged my opponent right back.

  Jared joined in on our training sessions the day after his fight with Daniel, not because he needed the training but so he could help me.

  It wasn’t long before we became a couple; which really didn’t help on the fight front.

  They didn’t want their future leader married to a wolf.

  One

  NEW BEGINNINGS

  Rosabel - Present Day

  I take a deep, cleansing breath as I pounce off the bus. Twelve hours sitting in a metal container with a bunch of sweating strangers is not the best idea for someone with a strong nose like mine. And that was just the last bus journey. I had been on three more of around the same duration. It takes a long time to drive from the desert of the Northern Territory, all the way southeast to central New South Wales. I could have flown but it’s bad enough travelling in a box that’s on the ground, there was no way I was going to travel in a big metal box that floats in the air. Were-animals might be extremely indestructible, but I don’t think even I could survive a plane crash. My cousin, Benji, isn’t like me and even he warned me about the smell.

  I should have listened.

  Jared will know I have left by now. Uncle Jack promised he would keep him distracted long enough to give me a good head start.

  I didn’t tell anyone where I was heading because I hadn’t really known myself. I’d just closed my eyes, threw a dart at a map of Australia and chose the nearest town that had a werewolf pack. I burnt the map to ashes afterwards so there wouldn’t be any clues. So even if he does come looking he isn’t going to find me.

  I know you’re wondering why I left. If I was in love with the man who saved my life by duelling for me for the last six years, why would I up and leave? Well let me tell you, that is exactly why I left. Jared didn’t deserve to fight every week to save his mate, or wife, from being killed. He deserves a mate that his pride actually likes and accepts. I didn’t want him to resent me and that’s all our future would hold; resentment.

  I only told Aunt Lily, Uncle Jack, and Benji about my plan to leave an hour before my first coach left. Aunt Lily was heartbroken and Benji wasn’t far off, but once I explained my reasons Uncle Jack agreed it was for the best. We managed to calm Aunt Lily and Benji down in the end, but I think it will take them a while to fully come to terms with it.

  I am hoping to find a werewolf pack that will welcome me. From Pride to Pack, I’m dreaming of finding somewhere to finally call home.

  So here I am in Mount Roxby, thankfully off that stinking bus, with a back pack crammed full of my belongings, two hundred dollars in my pocket, and no idea what to do or where to go.

  As I stand on the pavement of the main road, taking in my surroundings, I find myself being drawn to a building across the road. It doesn’t look special; it’s a corner building and has a midnight blue facade, two double doors of the same colour, and a bright purple neon sign - Misty’s. There are no wi
ndows that I can see, making me think it’s a bar or club of some kind. I can’t help but go take a closer look.

  There’s a piece of paper taped to the door. ‘Cocktail mixer needed. Apply within.’ I’m going to need a job. I had worked in the only bar back home for the last couple of years, so I’m used to the bar atmosphere. Okay, cocktails weren’t ordered very often, but how hard can it be?

  As I push the door open I get a really strong sense of dread. It makes me want to turn my behind around and leave in a rush. I take a deep breath and ignore my senses. Once the door shuts behind me the dread goes with it, as if it’s just connected to the door in some way.

  The smell of cleaning fluid hits me immediately, along with a whole mix of people’s personal scents. In the big rectangular room, the solid wooden floorboards under my feet aren’t sticky like you expect to find in a bar. The first thing I see is the bar’s counter, which is directly opposite the entrance, stretching about eight metres in length from the right hand corner of the room, to the left. There’s a door next to the bar and then there are four booths along the wall; a stage— with a beautiful, glossy black piano on the right-hand side—is positioned in the far left of the room along that side wall.

  In front of the stage is a large open area which I assume is used as a dance floor. Covering the rest of the floor space is a mixture of circular and rectangular tables, with booths against the other wall until you come to the door again. Every available wall is covered in floor to ceiling mirrors, which makes the whole place look twice as big. Even though there are no windows it isn’t dark and dingy, the lighting is used well. The space between the bar and the door is open apart from a few stools along the bar.

  There aren’t many customers; a couple sit at the right corner of the bar, a guy sits to the far left side, and another couple sit at one of the circular table’s right next to the dance floor. It doesn’t look very busy but it is only five in the evening; most people will only just be leaving work. It probably won’t get too busy for another couple of hours.

  I walk over to the bar where I can see a tall, at least six-foot, slim brunette serving. She looks a little puzzled as she stares at me and I start to panic thinking how bad I must look as I have just stepped off the bus, but as I channel her emotions I sense she is feeling confusion. Surely that can’t be related to my looks!

  “Welcome to Misty’s. What can I get ya?” she says in a cute British accent. I can easily sense the lie. The door must have been warded, that’s why I felt the dread. A witch’s ward! A human shouldn’t be able to walk in and she probably knows all the supernatural beings in town. She must be wondering if it’s broken.

  “Hi, I’m Bel. I’m new in town. I thought I’d try my luck with the sign on your door,” I tell her, whilst holding my hand out for her to shake. She glances down at it warily but takes it in hers as she plasters on a welcoming smile. I know the minute she senses my wolf energy, her smile turns genuine and she raises her brow in question. I nod. “I’m a lone wolf…for the time being.”

  “I’m Misty, nice to meet ya, Bel. Have ya worked in a bar before?”

  I look behind the bar which looks just like any other bar, spirit bottles lining shelves and work surfaces, and fridges with beer bottles and premixes in it. “Yeah, I worked in a little bar back home for the last three years, I can give you a number and name for a reference.”

  Misty screws up her face and shakes her head. “No, I don’t really like getting references; I prefer to see for myself. Are ya free tonight?”

  “I just stepped off the bus, I haven’t had chance to make any plans yet. So I’m all yours.” I grin. How lucky is that, a job from the first place I walk into? Now, let’s hope finding somewhere to sleep works out just as easy.

  “Okay. Get ya self ‘round this side of the bar then and I’ll give ya a paid trial tonight. Thursday’s aren’t very busy, so I should be able to keep my eye on ya.” She takes me in from head to toe as if she’s weighing me up. I must meet her standards because she walks over to the little flap and raises it to allow me behind the bar.

  By the looks of things there isn’t much room behind the bar, just enough for three or four people to move around and serve comfortably. There’s no shelving with personal items on it, just glasses under the bar, fridges and spirit bottles behind it and the draught levers on top.

  “That will be great, thanks. Is there somewhere I can leave my bag?” I show her my backpack as I pull it off my back.

  She points to the door between the bar and booths. I notice there is a toilet sign on it, which I didn’t see during my observations before. “My office is through there, the code for the door is seven-two-five-nine.”

  I nod in acknowledgement chanting the code to myself over and over, and head through the door into a small, narrow corridor decorated in wooden cladding on the bottom half of the wall which is finished off with a dado rail. The walls above it are white, but you can tell they are well overdue a fresh coat. There’s a door to my left with a beautiful Barbie-like woman painted on the full length of the door, and a couple of metres further up the corridor there is another door with a hot guy painted on it.

  I walk over to the guy’s door and find myself wondering if he is based on a real guy. He must have girls coming at him from all angles, if so. I meet his eyes and decide it can’t be a real person because his eyes, they look like emeralds and no one has eyes that green.

  On the right hand wall about halfway down the corridor there is a steel reinforced door, which has an electric code panel next to it. They must get some bad types in here if they have security like this. I didn’t see any bouncers.

  The only other door is a fire exit at the end of the corridor, which is painted a charcoal grey and has one of those, press-to-release bars across it.

  I enter the code Misty gave me and watch as the light turns from red to green as I hear the lock click.

  When I open the door, I see the room is small; one wall is covered in filing cabinets, and there are a few hooks on another wall with a coat and bag hung up. Next to the hooks is another door which must lead to a storage room of some sort because the hallway was too long for there not to be more room.

  I place my bag on the floor under the hooks, not wanting the weight of my bag to pull the hooks off the wall.

  The office is finished off with a metal desk in the middle of the room with a wooden chair from the bar. The walls are painted a cold grey/blue colour. It isn’t a very inviting office.

  I go back to the bar to find three more customers.

  Misty shows me how things run behind the bar; explaining the customers mostly order cocktails since they’re mainly werewolves. I know better than anyone that we find it hard to get drunk. A big mix of alcohol like you get in a cocktail gives a little buzz at least.

  The guy from the couple that has been here since I walked in, waves me over to the far side of the bar to take his order.

  My first order, here goes nothing.

  I give him a big smile as I reach him. “Hi. What can I get you?”

  “Can we get two Russian Roses, please?”

  I look at him puzzled, wracking my brain to think of what that drink could be, with no luck. Why couldn’t he have picked something simple like a Cosmopolitan?

  Noticing my predicament, Misty shouts the ingredients across the bar as she points each one out. “Shaker, vodka, triple sec, pink grapefruit juice, rose syrup, basil, and the juice of two lime wedges.”

  “Thanks, Misty. I haven’t heard of that one before.” Great, my first drink and I don’t even know it. What kind of cocktail mixer do I think I am?

  “No worries, Bel. You’ll probably get a few ya don’t know. You’ll get used to them eventually. There’s a book in the office in case we get a real obscure order but most of the customers know what they are ordering. If in doubt, ya can always ask them. Although ya might get a sneaky customer or two trying to catch ya out on purpose. We have some jokers like that around here,” she says, mixing dri
nks for one of the new customers.

  I’m just squeezing the limes into the shaker for the Russian Roses, as I get a whiff of werewolf. I barely get a chance to register the scent before I am hit with a rush of power that can only come from an alpha. The alpha’s power wakes the wolf inside me; she starts to stir, making my skin restless and my heartbeat raise. I knew there was a large werewolf pack here but I never imagined I would meet the alpha within the first couple of hours of arriving. I thought I’d be able to meet a few submissive wolves first; instead I get the most dominant of them all. Great!

  I place the lid on the shaker and start to shake it. I turn around to get a glance at the alpha and can’t believe my eyes. He’s the gorgeous guy from the men’s toilet door painting. I am doing everything possible to not run off to check he’s not just stepped out of the painting. He’s got a lovely muscular body—but most weres are in good shape—he’s about five-foot-eight, with strawberry blonde hair, and he’s wearing dark jeans and a baby blue t-shirt.

  I pour the drinks out and take the guy’s money. I hope he gave me the right amount because I can’t concentrate enough to count it, or even think about change. He’s started a conversation with a new customer next to him so I don’t think he is waiting for change.

  I can’t stop glancing at the painting guy.

  Just as I’m about to take the painting guy’s order, Misty beats me to it. “Hi, Theo. How are ya today?”

  Smoking hot is how he is! While I’m admiring him I realise he is looking at me, as if waiting for me to answer a question I didn’t hear him ask. I look at Misty hoping she can clear it up.

  “This is my new cocktail mixer, Bel. You could have warned me there was a new were in town. I thought the wards were down when she walked in here,” she says in jest.