Prologue
Every little girl dreams of growing up and finding The One. It didn’t matter if she was human or shifter, she dreamed of finding the man of her dreams, to sweep her off her feet and make her feel like a princess. Kylie Bishop was no different. She grew up outside of Frenchville, Maine, on the border between the US and Canada. Her father was a lieutenant in the Night Stalkers Pard which afforded her a bit of luxury growing up. Not much, but enough that some of the other, younger Pard members were envious. Others wanted to get close to her in order to gain the notice of those in power. One such leopard was Ezra Strickland. Ezra was a smooth talker. He said exactly what he knew she wanted to hear in order to woo her and in so doing, he impressed her father, who in turn brought him to the attention of their Alpha.
Things started out really well between her and Ezra. He was good to her: attentive, passionate, all the things a girl wanted from the man in her life. It wasn’t until her father died in a freak accident during a snowstorm that things started changing. It started with little things like pinching her arm to get her attention, or slapping her ass hard when he thought she wasn’t moving fast enough. Slowly it became worse. He’d get angry for no reason and slap her, then he’d beg for forgiveness and promise to not do it again.
The worst, as if being hit wasn’t bad enough, was what he did to her in the bedroom. Kylie wasn’t allowed to tell him no. If she tried, she regretted it. There were so many nights where she cried herself to sleep after he’d found his release in her not-so-willing body. He didn’t seem to notice she wasn’t into it. Or if he did notice, he didn’t care. He got himself off and then left her alone until he felt the urge again.
Kylie had always told herself she would never be the kind of woman who let a man hit her. Her father raised her to stand up for herself and to not put up with something like that. Yet, by the time Ezra was really hitting her, she’d become so isolated from everyone, she didn’t see any way out. She didn’t have a car, she didn’t have a job so she had no money, and the only time she saw anyone in the Pard was when Ezra was at her side. The one time she knew their Alpha saw his abuse, the man turned a blind eye to it.
Five years. That was how long Kylie lived like that. Five years of hell. Five years of never knowing if something she said or did, or didn’t do, was going to set him off. Five years of fearing that next time he might not stop. The night she finally got up the courage to leave Ezra, he came very close to not stopping until it was too late. She’d fixed dinner for them while he was at work, and when he didn’t come home right away, she put it in the oven to keep it warm. She waited and waited for him—she wasn’t allowed to eat without him—but by midnight, when he still hadn’t come home, she gave in to the hunger gnawing at her belly and fixed her plate. She was halfway through it when he finally came home. Ezra flew into a rage and Kylie soon found herself curled in a ball, trying to protect her stomach and face from his foot. When he wrapped his hands around her throat and cut off her oxygen, she was certain she was going to die.
“If you ever break a rule again I’ll kill you, do you hear me?” Ezra snarled in her face once he let go of her throat.
“I’m sorry,” she croaked out. She stayed there on the floor when he stalked away and grabbed the bottle of whiskey from the cabinet. In that moment she knew, if she didn’t find a way to get away, he was going to kill her.
At four in the morning, Ezra had finally passed out and Kylie took advantage of his drunken state to finally leave. She quietly shoved as much as she could carry into a backpack, took all the cash he had in his wallet, and pocketed the keys to his car. She drove until she got to Van Buren where she abandoned his car and bought a bus ticket to Philadelphia. She was smart—she paid with cash—and once she got to Philadelphia, she purchased temporary hair dye and her red hair turned black. From Philadelphia, she went to St. Louis, Missouri where she stayed, briefly. While there she did something a bit wild. She got a tattoo—something to celebrate her taking control of her own life. She’d looked over a bunch of designs before she settled on one of dark blue orchids. It was beautiful and she loved the way the ink looked against her pale skin.
Kylie wanted to get as far from Ezra as she could as fast as possible. Looking over the bus schedules, she picked the one that was leaving in less than half an hour. Destination: New Orleans. It was about as far south as she could get and she hoped he would never find her there. After all, she’d grown up in the cold and snow; why would he think she’d willingly go someplace that was so damn hot all the time?