Chapter 1

Evelyn

I slip down into the green couch with its armrests ravaged by time and the hands of many customers as Mike pours me a glass of beer and slams it on the table. I shudder at the sound. The tabletop pleads for a dampened cloth to wipe the excess froth away. One of the club girls must hear my thoughts because she rushes over to my table and does her job as silent as a ghost. Her name is Tia if I remember correctly. Mike pulls the table towards me with his foot. The glass wobbles as a few drops of golden richness splash against the table. The smell of barley rises to my nostrils as intensely as it has come from a brewery. The young caveman sits down beside me. He’s fucking naked, unconcerned that his stiff cock is on display. Mike grins and disappears behind the metal staircase that leads upstairs. He returns with a pair of jeans in his hand and throws them at the caveman.

“Put the jeans on,” Mike growls as he threads his fingers through his unruly blond hair. It falls to his shoulders. “There’s a lady in here.” His eyes shine icy blue as though they will shoot icicles at any moment.

All the club girls disappear one by one. Three customers walk off, their movements robotic. An electrified atmosphere hangs in the air.

The caveman chuckles as he lifts himself, slides into the jeans, and sits down. He throws his arm around my back.

His smell hits me hard and clouds my mind. A memory wavers in my head. When I was nine, I visited a zoo. I loved the wolves even though they smelled of fur sprinkled with rainwater and exuded the air of dreadful wildness and freedom just like the caveman beside me.

Everything has been weird for two days, but I can’t focus because of the young savage sitting beside me. My mind pulsates with heat. Everything around me is hot and blurry. My blood boils. My core burns. My heart races. Oh, it’s madness.

“So,” the caveman says as his eyes flicker with yellow, “are you single or not?”

I giggle. Yes, giggle as though I am a teenage girl. I’m thirty-five. The caveman looks twenty-two at most.

I feel like I’m drunk.

“Coyote,” Mike says and grins. “She’s fucking intoxicated.”

“You’re Coyote?” I mumble. “The wolf’s name is Coyote.”

“What wolf?” Coyote grins at me as though he is amused. “I’m Coyote, sweetheart.”

I know something is wrong here, but I’m too drunk with Coyote’s closeness. My primal instincts tell me I should escape from the bar, but I’m too intrigued. Too… horny.

The other members of the Salvation Ghosts MC surround us. I’ve never seen them all before—I know only Gabe and Mike, but all of them are wearing their cuts that have the club’s logo printed on the back. I’ve been once to this bar—as an undercover cop. I checked them out, but there was nothing suspicious so I sat down on one of the leather couches that looked like it had been here since the 1940s, and I made friends with Gabe.

He’s been useful to me for six years. Unavailable to me even though we’ve ended up in bed a few times. I think I was in love with him for a brief moment, but my rationality killed it off. We have saved quite a few people—five kids, four women, three men, an elderly couple. That matters more to me than my one-sided crush on Gabe.

“There was a wolf in the forest,” I mumble, resting my head against Coyote’s arm. It feels so good to be in his embrace. “When we found Gabe’s wife two hours ago, there was a domesticated wolf with her.”

Yes, Gabe has a wife. She is so adorable I couldn’t help love her as soon as I met her. Not to mention how happy Gabe looks. It is written all over his face. It flickers in his eyes. I can’t be a jealous bitch. They’re meant for each other. They look so beautiful together. Well, the age gap is visible, but love has no boundaries, I guess.

Gabe’s wife got lost in the forest two days ago, and I suspect that was because of me. She’s very young, and jealousy is a strong emotion at her age. She wants her husband for herself, and doesn’t want me to be his friend. I can’t blame her, because I was the same when I was her age. She still has a lot of time to mature.

“You didn’t see any wolf, sweetheart,” Coyote says.

“No?” I say. “But Reagan… she introduced me to the wolf and he was…” My mind is so hazy and hot that I can’t finish the sentence.

“Coyote,” Mike growls.

“What?” Coyote snaps. “She’s going to be my wife.”

“You can’t take a wife, brother,” Mike says. “You know this. Evelyn couldn’t handle you or your life.”

“Evelyn is a tough bitch,” Coyote says with an inkling of primeval fury. “She can handle me.” His voice cracks.

“Wake up, brother,” a man with short black hair says. “She needs to go home and forget about everything she’s seen.”

“No,” Coyote growls as he pulls me to his chest. He kisses the top of my head, and I feel so loved it hurts.

My first boyfriend died in a car crash. We were both only nineteen at that time. Guilt has been with me ever since that fatal rainy night. We argued. He had three beers and sat behind the steering wheel. After that accident, I went to therapy, and my wonderful therapist helped me to make a kind of peace with his death. It’s better, but sometimes, the memories haunt me.

I burn a candle for him every year.

I teach young people to drive safely. I tell them not to drink alcohol if they’re going to get behind the steering wheel. Maybe this will save a kid like my boyfriend.

My first fiancé cheated on me, so I broke his nose. My second fiancé was gay so I helped him accept his true nature and we became good friends. Gabe was nice to me, but it was only temporary and he was very clear on that.

I want to be loved. I thought my job was the love of my life, but no, that caveman sitting beside me, crushing me in his embrace makes me crave for his love.

“Fuck her,” the man with black hair says, “and we’ll remove her memories after you have her.”

“No,” Coyote says in a cold voice as he tightens his embrace around me, knocking the air out of my lungs. “Not like this. She deserves better.”

His eyes meet mine, and I drown in the amber fury of his gaze. He sweeps a wisp of hair away from my face. I’m angry that he doesn’t want to fuck me, but at the same time, I’m touched that he thinks so high of me. I’ve never been a slut, but I just need a man. I’m lonely, that’s all. Five men in total from the moment I met my first boyfriend. I’m an overworked old woman, but even old women need a man from time to time.

“Coyote,” I rasp.

I see a tear in the corner of his eye. I feel the urge to comfort him, give him whatever he wishes for, but a strange voice in my head warns me that he’s going to do something horrible to me at any moment.

I stiffen. “Please, don’t,” I say with desperation. “I need you.”

“I need you too,” Coyote says. He pulls away from me and rises to his feet. “Uri, clean up her mind.”

“I’m sorry, Kid,” Uri says.

“My life doesn’t belong to me,” Coyote says as bitterness coats his voice.

Uri leans over me. I’m paralysed. My breath halts. Everything inside me screams ‘no’. I know I will lose something good, something precious to me… someone important to me.

***

I wake up as pain crushes my heart. I roll over on my side and grab my phone from the bedside cabinet. It’s 6 a.m. and it’s Sunday, my day off, but I feel like I should be somewhere else. Like I should be with someone. Sadness fills my veins like poison. Why am I sad? Maybe it’s depression? I’m old and lonely. I have the right to suffer from depression. Work is my life. I don’t sleep well at night and I haven’t felt relaxed for ages.

I get up and shuffle over to the bathroom. Tears leak from my eyes. What is happening? I’ve never been a cry-baby. Maybe it’s menopause? Jeez, it’s too early.

Dread surges through my veins followed by a sense of loss. Thoughts tumble in my head.

I had a day off on Friday. I saw Gabe in a café and joined him at his table. I met his pretty young wife. We talked for a moment, and then everything is like a blur. I must have gotten drunk or something. What about Saturday? I can’t remember what happened yesterday. Strange, I never get drunk to the point of unconsciousness. This is one of my life rules I never break.

Yes, I’m old, depressed and irresponsible. It looks like I did get drunk to the point of unconsciousness.

The pain stabs my heart with fury. It’s killing me. I need something, someone. I need… I don’t know what or who I need.

I raise my eyes and watch my reflection in the mirror. A thought hits me hard. Where the hell are my swollen eyelids? Where are my wrinkles? First grey hairs? Instead, I can see the face of a twenty-year-old woman. I looked like this fifteen years ago. My hair is longer and healthier. It shines golden and almond and reaches down to my collarbones, as thick as it was ten years ago. My eyes gleam with a joyful blue like I’m a teen. I take a closer look and notice strange amber flecks in my irises.

Yes, I need psychotherapy, a proper health check, and probably another bottle of vodka.

I shower for an hour, brush my teeth and put clothes on. Ten minutes later, I get in my car and drive over to my family home. Yes, the Sunday dinners with my parents. They’ll ask me a lot of questions, and they’ll smother me with care, but I don’t mind this time. I need them desperately.

Coyote

I walk into my family home and my mom spreads her arms to hug me.

“My boy is here,” she says in a melodious voice. She grips my arms and looks into my eyes. “What happened?” Her forehead wrinkles as a sad sigh leaves her mouth. “Ah, this…”

Of course, she knows.

One glance at my dad tells me he knows too.

“This is so unfair,” my mom hisses to my dad. “Brass, do something. He’s our son. I can’t watch him like this.” There’s a motherly pain in her voice.

My dad slaps me on the back and shoots my mom a dark glance. “I can’t do anything, Amaia, you know this.” He tosses my hair and squeezes my shoulder. “Nice to see you. It’s been two months since your last visit?” A pinch of reproach sprinkles his voice.

“Something like that,” I say, feeling guilty.

My sister, Rose, hugs me, squeaking her greeting. I’m home.

My dad’s pack occupies the southern part of the Shadow Immortals’ compound that resembles a small village with our clubhouse that towers over the little wooden houses. Our den comprises a system of three caves that my dad’s boys found a few years ago. We’re a pack, so we need a den. The pack thrives as part of the club, but my dad is Alpha. Always will be. Here in the den are our wild rules and our primal way of live. In the clubhouse are different rules—Kadmiel is President in there.

I drop onto the sofa and stretch my legs out towards the metal fireplace. Fierce flames are dancing inside it. It took us two months of drilling and hammering to build the chimney that conveys the smoke outside the cave. Two more months to cut the oval windows through the rocky ceiling. The sun’s rays filter inside our house in thick streaks that resemble pillars, creating a magical interior. With rock arches and frescoes, that brings images of elven architecture to one’s mind. My dad’s gift for my mom.

He is a tough leader, but one glance of my mom’s eyes can turn him into mush. He thinks we never notice. But we do notice. That’s embarrassing as fuck. Yet everything is as it should be. This is how wolves mate and love. We’re feral beasts, but with our bitches, we turn into gentle bears.

My mom goes to the kitchen and brings food and drinks. She puts the tray on the mahogany table and gestures for me to sit in one of the four chairs.

Rick and Ashton live in a separate apartment, but they come over for dinner twice a month. Nate is still on the road. Yes, we’re a very tiny pack. The boys need women because they’re turning into two eccentrics.

I sit at the table and grab a fork. Rose sits beside me, and my parents take their seats opposite us.

“This is delicious, Red,” my dad says.

“Coyote’s favourite dish,” my mom says. “Am I right, sweetie?”

“I love your lasagne, Mom,” I say. “You cook the best lasagne in the world.”

“It’s a pinch of elven magic not my cooking skills,” my mom says and winks at me.

Rick and Ashton sneak in with chairs in their hands. My mom erupts into laughter.

“It’s Saturday,” she says with humour, “not Sunday.”

Rick tosses my hair as Ashton pats my shoulder.

“You cook the best lasagne in the universe,” Rick says. “What can I say?”

“Join us for dinner, you two, then,” my mom says, sounding amused.

Rick sits next to Rose, which makes my dad grit his teeth. Ashton puts his chair next to my mom’s and stares at me with narrow eyes. A grin crosses his face.

“Fuck me,” Ashton says, “Kid is in love.”

Sadness fills my mom’s eyes. “My children… Rose can’t shift. Coyote can’t… Am I cursed or what?” Her voice falters.

“Red,” my dad says as he leans towards her and kisses the top of her head. “Let’s celebrate, not worry.”

“Who is she?” Rick asks as he turns his face to mine.

“A human cop,” I say. “Detective Evelyn Smith.”

The boys whistle as my mom shoots them a stern glance.

“Maybe if she was like us,” Rose says as she tucks a few wisps of her long red hair behind her ears.

“Fuck her but don’t bond with her,” Rick says and my mom throws a tea towel at him. “What? That’s the only solution.”

Rose giggles as my mom makes a threatening gesture with her finger. Rick nods, mumbles an apology, and focuses on eating. My mom is really tiny, but the boys have loads of respect for her because she’s Alpha’s wife.

Not to mention her cooking skills. The boys love attending her dinners, and they want to be invited over regularly.