CHAPTER ONE

“As it stands, I don’t have a head guard at the moment, and it’s a very important job. I want to offer it to you and give you a test run for the next few weeks to come.”

It was the same speech Isaac Hart had given to the other guy he was considering for the job—and unfortunately, it didn’t last long. Lance Peyton had been one of his most loyal panther shifters, with shifting abilities and sword skills that were above average—until yesterday. He’d gotten drunk and caused a ruckus by sleeping with another panther shifter’s wife, which had then caused the husband to challenge him to a duel. Said duel led to Lance’s early demise, having stumbled on his feet and straight towards the pointed end of the sword, where he lost his head in the process.

It had been messy business, one Isaac had to clean up well until dawn. Now, with only three hours sleep, he wasn’t in the mood for niceties but had to do his best when it came to screening the men who were to take Lance’s place.

Particularly this one.

Urban Nole was the best candidate for the job next to Lance. His shifting abilities were impressive, and his fighting skills weren’t something to be scoffed at, either. But the guy was pretty young in terms of shifter years, and he had one of those faces that didn’t hold eagerness at bay.

“Thank you for the opportunity,” Urban said earnestly. “I won’t let you regret this. I’ll make you proud, sir.”

“Isaac,” Isaac corrected.

Urban saluted, and Isaac had to stifle a sigh before he finally dismissed the guy. Urban strode off with a bounce on his gait, and Isaac had to wonder if he had just made the right decision. But then again, what other decision was there? His latest option had gotten himself killed, and his longest head guard, Clay…well, that guy had been more involved in the slavery business than he’d let on, and had ended up needing to be killed.

Yeah. Along with your brother.

Almost immediately, his younger brother’s face flashed in his mind, and grief prickled at his heart. It wasn’t the intense slash it was before, as he’d already come to terms with what Jason had done: namely, betray their family’s trust by being the ringleader of an awful slavery business for shifter children. Still, it was hard to take, particularly since he and his sister, Isabella, had done their best to protect their brother from any danger the outside world provided.

And look where that got them.

Now, he’d lost a brother. Jason’s betrayal meant he wasn’t allowed to be buried on sacred ground, nor was his body allowed to be burned and turned to ashes. So, he’d been thrown into the sea to rot away, as was tradition.

And as was tradition, it was Isaac’s role now to pretend that everything was alright and be the cool, calm shifter leader that the panther clan needed.

As he passed the hallways of the cave he had turned into his home over the years, Isaac tried to recall in his mind all the things that needed immediate attention. Clay had been with him for so long that he already depended too much on the guy to automatically do many things for him, and that was a mistake. Isabella had been the other half who often brought up many clan issues with him—and now Isabella had gone, too, having mated with the ultimate leader of all other shifter clans, Dylan Masters. That pretty much made her one of the most powerful women in the supernatural world now, though he knew it didn’t matter to her that much, anyway, since she married for love.

Love was a weakness, and that was just a lesson for Isaac not to rely too much on other people from now on. He had himself, and he had to depend on no one else. Still, even he couldn’t deny that his strong force was crippled for the moment due to lack of several bodies, and he was going to have to do his best not to make anyone aware of it.

Had he been anyone else, he’d have considered traveling somewhere there was a trusted witch and asking for her help with some spells and such to secure his clan boundary’s protection. But as it was, two things stopped him: first was that he didn’t trust witches with his life, and second was that he couldn’t exactly travel.

No—he literally couldn’t travel.

He knew he should be used to that damn curse by now, having been trapped in it for ten years already. But it was such an inconvenience that he couldn’t help being angry every now and then for such a rash decision of his turning into a lifetime punishment. Isabella had been the one who handled outside matters since then—and the only person who knew about said curse—and her leaving only emphasized the fact that he had no one trusted enough to tell his secret to and make new deals with.

A headache was forming as Isaac entered the main hall, where he sat on his throne. He tried not to dwell on the matter as he remembered that he still had to check with the infirmary head on the slave children’s conditions. He, Isabella, and Dylan Masters had done their best to save all that they could and spread the children among foster homes and their designated clans—but for now, it was the healing first before anything. Despite Isaac’s dislike for modern gadgets, Dylan had given him a phone for emergency calls, and Isabella had promised that she would visit in a month or two to check up on the progress.

This back and forth business was another thing that he wasn’t comfortable with, considering the panther clan had isolated themselves for a reason: to avoid the politics that were rampant in Dylan’s world in New York, where all the other shifter clans were mostly situated. Isaac had a lot of things to adjust to, and so far, he was doing it fine.

It didn’t mean that he liked it, though.

And it didn’t mean that he was going to give up his power here that easily, even with Dylan shifting from his tentative enemy to his tentative acquaintance.

The panther clan’s safety came first and foremost, no matter what.

*****

“Sir? We found an intruder in the area.”

Half an hour later in the infirmary, Urban’s cheerful voice penetrated Isaac’s thoughts as he reviewed the charts the infirmary head had provided. Most of the children were still in need of care, but there were some older ones that had already recovered enough to give a helping hand.

“Isaac,” he corrected his head guard again. Then his mind absorbed the words said, and Isaac went on alert immediately. “Who?”

“A woman.”

Isaac frowned. Then he nodded at Urban and silently went out, with the guard following him. They walked the halls and left the infirmary, using the forest shortcut to go back to the cave, where Isaac glanced at Urban.

“Details?”

Urban straightened. “She was found sneaking around the edges of our boundary, then climbing a tree when we went to check it out. We had to persuade her down, and she asked to speak with you.”

“Hmm. My name specifically?”

“Yes. She knows your name and your title, and said it’s something important.”

“Did she say who she was?”

“No. But she looks…very odd.”

Isaac raised a brow. “Odd?”

“Doesn’t smell like a human. Doesn’t smell like a shifter, either. She has…a vibrating presence about her. I’m thinking she’s a witch concealing herself, so we’ve already set up precautions around her in the main hall.”

“Good.” Urban’s initiative reminded Isaac why he made him one of his guards in the first place a few years ago.

Urban went inside the hall first to check that things were still good, then gave a subtle nod. Isaac entered without preamble, taking in the guards making a circle around someone in the middle. They weren’t the only ones making a circle, because there was an electric charge circling the person, too.

The clan leader circled the area calmly, standing in front of his throne and turning to finally face them. The guards had stepped back to the sides, and Isaac studied the intruder quietly.

She was tiny—tinier than most women, with a slight body and a face to match. Her hair was a mess of reddish-gold curls, and her pale skin made one think she didn’t get any sun at all. Urban was right. She didn’t smell like human or shifter, or any of the familiar creatures in their world. He took in the pert nose, the full lips with a mole on the side, and the eyes tilted upwards, the color of gold.

No, not pure gold. They were rose gold.

She could pass for a witch, sure. But Isaac’s blood surged as he knew she was no witch, and under that innocent façade was someone who had nails that could grow as sharp as talons and a mouth made to utter curses that could torture one for life. Her kind was far worse than all other creatures that resided this world, save for maybe demons and those damn rogue vampires.

He was staring at a fairy.