Happy Friday! Note, this story is NOT polished. I will be posting a scene or chapter weekly. Expect an urban fantasy world. Romance and mystery. And magic, of course. Enjoy!
PART 10
An hour later, my abridged life story had been laid before two virtual strangers. No mention of the people after me, just that I liked to move around a lot. No doubt the guys both knew I was lying, but sue me, I’d just met them.
Lobo I’d known for a whole two and a half weeks, and while he’d provided me a home and fed me, I didn’t know much more about him than that he liked roses and represented the evo faction of Reunion, Oregon.
The new guy, Micah No Last Name, ran the shapeshifter community, comprised of shifters and familiars, in Reunion. Technically, they called him their alpha. He’d said he was a mountain lion, and he respected all shapeshifters, no matter if they had a were-form or not.
Apparently, Lobo had not only lied to the cops, but he’d ignored a direct request by his alpha to bring a stray evo by to see him.
The power structure was a little confusing.
Lobo represented all the evos and was the go-to for law enforcement when an evo strayed. Mage, shapeshifter, elemental—if an evo had an issue, Lobo took care of it. Yet he still reported to his alpha, Micah, about shapeshifter matters. Since I was staying with Lobo, that gave Micah some rights over me, as I understood it. But had Lobo been a mage, Micah would have had no say-so in my behavior.
I was getting a headache trying to keep a handle on the chain of command in this tiny town.
“I’m not a shifter or familiar,” I somewhat lied, hoping they couldn’t scent untruths. I couldn’t, but then, I’m atypical. “I can move out of here if I’m putting Lobo in trouble.”
“No.” Lobo looked adamant. Again, I got the feeling he was holding back. Why the hell should he care what I did?
Micah sighed. He had a thick black hair, dark brown eyes, and skin the color of bronze. He muttered in French, and I was glad not to know what he said. He could have been anywhere from thirty to ninety. Shifters had lucked out with the gene pool, their aging slowed to half that of normal people. The rest of us evos had regular lives, but shapeshifters, those with an animal nature, easily lived for centuries. The oldest known to date had been a werecat, documented at three hundred and four.
Micah seemed more mature, but then, as alpha, he had a responsibility befitting a leader. Still, he would attract attention as much for his looks as for his powerful energy. But heck, come to think of it, all the shapeshifters I’d met so far in town had drawn the eye. The blond familiar, Lobo, and Micah ranked right up there with surly Mason.
And I didn’t know why my mind was going there.
Lobo glared at me. I glared back. Micah sighed.
Lobo cleared his throat. “Okay, let’s try this again. Micah, this is Red, a refugee needing asylum. Red, this is Micah, my alpha.”
Asylum? Huh?
I remained quiet, waiting for Micah’s response. He studied Lobo with narrowed eyes. “Asylum, hmm? From what?”
“She’s running from religious fanatics who want her dead because she worships Aleah.” Man, Lobo was a champion fibber.
Aleah—a creator goddess supposedly worshipped by shapeshifters. Not that people weren’t free to choose their own deity to worship, but certain groups took to certain gods and goddesses.
The religious wars in the early nineteen hundreds had ended Christianity’s hold on the United States and fractured the country. Now people worshipped whoever they wanted. Since the gods couldn’t visit our plane of existence without destroying the balance of the cosmos, our worship did little to strengthen or weaken them, according to mystic scholars. Personally, I’d never worshipped anything but Luck. And so far I’d been doing a fair job of holding onto it.
“Aleah, huh?” Micah didn’t look as if he believed Lobo. He glanced at me, one brow raised.
“Um, yeah. She’s awesome.”
Micah rolled his eyes. “Whatever. Stick to that script, kid. Lobo, a word outside?” He stood and stalked out the back door. I swore I heard him growling under his breath.
Lobo patted me on the head. Seriously? Then he walked by me as if he didn’t care about pissing off his alpha.
He acted as if it were no big deal, but I’ve studied evos, and I knew how the world worked.
- Obey the alpha.
- Nothing in life is free.
- If it seems too good to be true, it is.
- Stick to the cities if you want to blend in.
- Never tell the truth. It’ll get you killed.
So far, I didn’t seem to be heeding the rules.
A low rumble, no doubt an argument, brewed outside, ending with Micah warning, “You do it, or I will.”
Lobo returned alone, smiling as if Micah hadn’t chewed him out. The scent of roses grew stronger. Man and flower melded, so that the purity of the rose transcended the bear while flowing into him, rolling sweetness through the male until nothing remained but goodness and love.
A well of feeling exploded inside me, a kind of knowing, of coming home, as I stared at the large predator who looked as if he didn’t have a care in the world. So gentle, so clean, that spirit who’d held death at bay because only love mattered.
I mentally cleared my insane thoughts, wondering if he worked magic somehow. The smell of roses faded but didn’t completely leave. I shook my head.
“You okay?” he asked, looking concerned.
I felt…truly safe. For the first time in forever, I felt protected with this somewhat familiar stranger. Damn it.
How could I keep lying—even by omission—to the man who’d taken me in in, fed me, clothed me, and lied to the law to protect me?
“Lobo, we need to talk.”