Chapter One

Have a rare or extraordinary species requiring unusual or specialized treatment? Text Kel after sunset. ALWAYS closed during the full moon.

Smiling down at the post on my screen, I pray to the moon for an actual client tonight. I helped my first client via text. A gentleman—I use that term lightly—asked for a diagnosis of his pet snake. What followed was a barrage of unwanted, unimpressive, and inappropriate pictures. When I finally stopped laughing, I managed to give him my professional opinion. What he had between his legs resembled a dead rabbit fetus, not a snake, and if that’s what it normally looked like, he needed to have it checked out by any other doctor than myself.

I never heard from him again.

Just as I tuck my phone away, it buzzes. When I check the screen, my stomach clenches. I hate sending my dad to voicemail, but at least this time I can tell him I was working instead of just avoiding him.

Leaving the empty stall I’d ducked into, I approach the struggling dairy cow tied to the far wall, my last patient of the day. I try to pet her. She kicks out a back leg, making me jump away, but not before she grazes my quad with her hoof, my leg instantly going numb. “When the university sells you because you’ve kicked one too many students,” I growl, rubbing my bruised muscle, “I’m going to butcher you myself and have a nice steak dinner.”

The cow bellows and jumps forward, her hooves scrambling on the cement floor. I bare my teeth now that I’m safely out of range of her flailing hooves, which only makes her fight harder.

Prey animals.

“Still struggling with large animals, Kaelen?” Speaking of dead rabbit fetuses…Even over the sound of chatting vet students and lowing cows, I hear Dr. Ral’s approach. I don’t jump like he wants when I feel him behind me.

Rule number one of being an Alpha wolf: Never let an enemy see you sweat. Not that this country club member wanna-be could ever elicit any fear from me but the rule still stands.

Slowly, I turn around and fix him with my sweetest smile, my jaw aching with the effort to keep a snarl off my face. “Good thing I plan on working in a small animal practice.”

Rule number two: Keep your business private. While my colleagues have fairly mild choices for their future practices, large and small animal, I consider myself a supernatural specialist, thanks to my upbringing. I plan on treating more exotic species, but I don’t need another dose of the doctor’s condescending smiles and suggestions that I pursue a different career.

Ral’s fake smile matches the rest of his artificial image: A trim body that used to be hard from a large animal practice, soft hands, and a bright white lab coat that makes him look more like a poser than a doctor. How does he keep it so clean in a barn full of animals? As soon as I enter the barn, it never fails: some sort of animal waste stains my clothes.

“I’d hate to write you up for being unable to treat a patient.”

Liar. He’d love nothing more than to see me fail. The write up means nothing to me now that I have my license, but I prefer being judged on my work ethic rather than my pretty face. “Is there a less feisty bovine I can stick my hand in, or can I go home and ice my leg?”

“Seven twenty-four is the most docile cow we have. I don’t know how you graduated if you can’t handle her. Just go home for the rest of the day. Without pay, I’m afraid.” He tries to fake a frown, but his eyes are too bright with glee for it to be believable.

I shrug and the shock that crosses his face is priceless. I should probably care more about the hours, my bills certainly do, but I have other pressing issues to attend. Like calling my father. Just the thought of this upcoming call has sweat running down my spine.

My stomach turns again at the reminder and that settles it. I’m done for the day. I turn and limp down the cement aisle in between pens holding both dairy and beef cows. “Have a nice day, Doc!” I wave over my shoulder, just barely keeping my middle finger in check.

Once I’m safely out of the barn, I take a semi-normal breath that doesn’t reek of hay, fear, and manure and walk faster, stripping out of my coveralls once I reach my massive truck, Bertha. The paint that isn’t covered in rust, mud, and manure is flat black and beat to hell. She’s been through a lot with me and perfect for my practice.

A small, overly dressed woman steps out from behind the truck’s wheel and I wave, giving my roommate a smile while throwing my coveralls in the bed with the rest of my gear before climbing in the cab. Getting in is a harder feat for Mina than me, but she bears the indignant wriggling climbing inside that cab requires with longsuffering grace.

Once inside, she rubs something that looks like dirt off her leather shoes but isn’t, and I grin. I don’t know why she thought a skirt and three-inch heels was a good idea when she knew she’d meet me at the university’s farm. She makes the mistake of sniffing her fingers, her face twisting at the smell. “Disgusting!”

I dig out a pack of wet wipes from the center console and throw them at her, trying not to laugh and fail.

“Just because your nose died a long time ago doesn’t mean everyone else isn’t offended by barn smells.” Mina takes a cautious breath, studiously scrubbing her shoes as she talks. “By the way, boyfriend texted me last night to apologize, and this morning he sent me flowers with a note asking me to Nino’s tonight, but I don’t know. Should I forgive him?” My best friend chews on her bottom lip as she stares at her shoe, waiting for my opinion. “Kaelen? Is a fancy dinner and flowers a good enough apology?”

I already know she won’t like my advice.

No. Good enough would be him groveling at my feet, throat exposed until I decide to let him up. Or kill him.

I can’t say that though, as Mina was raised by perfectly unaware human parents, until she met me and I told her all about vampires, were-animals, and the fey that live in our world. That was enough of a shock for her. I, on the other hand, was raised to be an Alpha wolf. I embrace those Alpha tendencies, making me an outcast in two societies that value quiet, submissive women. To keep Mina comfortable, I keep my bloodthirsty thoughts to myself. I don’t want to scare my friend off.

I struggle with how to nicely tell her to kick the douche to the curb. I’ve never met her boyfriend, but their on again, off again relationship puts so much stress on Mina, I hate him. “You could give him one more chance,” I grumble.

Mina’s already on her phone before I finish speaking, no doubt agreeing to meet with the loser. I don’t know what she sees in him; she’s way out of his league. She’s settling and I think she knows it.

An oncoming car blares at my distracted driving and I give them a one fingered wave in return. It’s never a good day when three straight hours are spent with your arm in a cow’s anus. The only thing worse is listening to your best friend complain again about her boyfriend. Manure and relationship drama combined is almost too much shit for me to handle.

I’d never tell her, but listening to Mina’s drama is one of the many reasons I’m not looking for a mate.

“What do you think I should wear?”

I give her a broad smile. “I guess it depends on how much forgiving you plan on doing.”

She hides her face while we both laugh. Despite her somewhat shy nature, I’ve overheard her and the douche enough when they thought I wasn’t home to know Mina is anything but shy in the bedroom, though she’d be mortified if she knew I’ve overheard them. She should use some of that confidence in other parts of her life. “A little black dress?”

“That could work. I would wear the lacy one with one strap and some stilettos. Enjoy a free meal, drink a little too much, and then end the night with a kiss on his cheek. I guarantee he’ll be a changed man by the next day.” And maybe treat you with the respect you deserve.

She smiles, but it’s uncertain. “I want to make up with him, not make him madder.”

If demanding respect makes him mad, she needs to dump him.

Again, I bite back my remarks. We roll through the small town of Pine Valley in silence, my diesel engine loud enough to remind me that my broke, post-grad status is neglecting Bertha. Maybe after this month’s bills are paid, I’ll have enough left over to give the old girl the attention she deserves.

We hit Main Street and I slow down, passing a shopping center, fast food restaurants, and a storage unit rental facility. Despite the chilly weather, the streets are full of pedestrians enjoying the sunny spring day. While there aren’t many stoplights in town, we hit them all, and the stops only increase my anxiety. Once I’m in the privacy of my bedroom, I’ll return the phone call that’s practically burning my skin where my cell phone touches my hip.

Mina is out of the truck almost before we’re completely stopped, and all but sprints up the sidewalk and into our three-bedroom home; an impressive feat in those heels. I stall, grabbing my dirty clothes and bag from the truck before getting the mail out of the box on the sidewalk, my gaze automatically scanning the cute two-story house and overgrown lawn for disturbances. A patch of wolfsbane makes me sneeze. Though I’m careful not to touch it, my first order of business once I’m inside is a shower. The plant leaves itchy hives on any werewolf unlucky enough to come into contact with it. A natural deterrent, which is why there’s so much of it around my home.

Mina’s quiet while we both get ready, but with my sensitive hearing, I’m able to meet her in the hallway on her way out. “If tonight doesn’t go well, text me and I’ll call crying about my great aunt and how I need you for emotional support, okay?”

Her smile is a little wobbly. I feel the anxiety rolling off her in waves. Why does she keep doing this to herself? It can’t be healthy. “I’ll keep that in mind.”

With that, my roommate and only friend is out the door and I’m free to be myself. I should return my father’s call—ignoring him is never a good idea—but choose to work off the anxiety from anticipating what he’ll say instead. I want a clear head when I talk with him.

With my running clothes on, I head out the back door, checking and scenting the perimeter of my property for any signs of intruders. I don’t smell anything concerning, but that’s probably due to the garden of fragrant flowers growing around the house and fence.

Security scan done, I go for my usual run to monitor the little chunk of land I’ve stupidly started to think of as my own. I jog east, filtering out the smells of oil and exhaust to read the subtler ones underneath. It’s mostly human scents and emotions, and various foods, along with old traces of familiar supernaturals that I’ve smelled before, but not actually met. A couple fey and some lingering witch magic, probably originating from one of the shops lining the streets in town. None cause me any alarm, at any rate.

Not until I’m near a patch of woods at the edge of my territory do I catch the faint breeze of something that makes my steps falter and a growl rise in my throat. I turn around and breathe deeper, trying to get more information, but I can’t seem to catch more than the faintest, teasing hint of them, like the tantalizing smell of roasting meat drifting on changing winds. The scent of werewolf is familiar to me, but these two are not.

The local pack, Pine Richland, granted me permission to live here. I don’t know all the details of the deal, as my cousin Jareth handled the negotiations and gave me my alibi. Pine Richland thinks I’m a loner and barren, making me worthless as a mate and unthreatening to the pack. It couldn’t be further from the truth, but my time is limited in this town. As long as I keep my nose clean, I might get out of their territory completely unnoticed.

I feel bad about the lie since werewolf infertility is a real problem I wouldn’t wish on anyone but it’s effective. Despite offering my services in exchange for living on their turf, none of the Pine Richland pack has come to see me. I hope to keep it that way.

My steps are faster for the last half of my run, and I keep looking over my shoulder, expecting the werewolves to appear at any second. When I get home, my house is still secure and undisturbed, thank the moon. By the end of another shower, I convince myself the smell is just Pine Richland wolves checking in on me, though they never have before. But if that’s the case, what the hell are they doing on my turf?