Enemies: Werewolves of Greenville City, #2

By Keira Blackwood

I look into her eyes and know she's lost. Her life's spinning out of control, but it's me who's falling.

 

Falling for her.

 

She knows nothing about the shifter world, and she represses the wolf inside of her. I want nothing more than to teach her, to help her. But she's trying to kill me. 

 

I'll take her as my mate...if she doesn't shoot me first.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Paramour Press
• Release date: Nov 2, 2021
• ISBN: 9798201851293

Book preview

Chapter 1

Zoe

Five. Four. Three. Two. One. Click . Turning that lock lifted my spirits and put a smile on my face. It was the absolute best part of the evening shift, aside from walking out the door. I followed the same routine here at Big Beans five days a week, except for during full moons. After my eighteenth birthday party had ended with me growing a surprise beard within minutes, and you know, fangs and claws and stuff, I had decided to spend every full moon and birthday alone. Just in case.

Four years later, I was comfortably far from the witnesses who I had somehow convinced that I was really amazing at movie makeup effects. Because who doesn’t scare the crap out of all of her friends by pretending to turn into a wolf?

Classes had kept me busy all morning. Then I had served coffee and bagels to yoga moms, writers, and entrepreneurs for their business meetings. The angry suit-types, the ones that expected their coffee ready five minutes before they ordered it, frequented Big Beans first thing in the morning. So unless I got stuck working a weekend shift, I was fortunate enough to miss the breakfast rush. And the wrath.

Earbuds in, I flipped the switch to turn off the front lights, then upturned all of the chairs onto their tables. Semisonic blasted through the tiny speakers, loud enough that I didn’t have to hear myself sing the lyrics that I probably got wrong, or the sound of my voice that was at least a few keys off. With loud music on, I sounded awesome.

I belted the lyrics through the otherwise quiet coffee shop. If I could have found a song with lyrics about dumping the hot coffee into jugs with milk and sugar to make tomorrow’s iced coffee, I would have chosen that one instead. I was that committed to completing the playlist of my life. Closing Time was still a solid choice.

It was the aromas of this place that I had fallen in love with. I wasn’t much for drinking coffee, or for service work, but the yeasty smell of fresh bagels and pastries mixed with warm cinnamon, roasted beans, hazelnut, and vanilla made it all worthwhile. Pouring the flavored coffees into their jugs was like a hug for my nose.

After the coffee, I wrapped up the day-old bagels to drop at the shelter on my walk home. Then I washed the floors, and before I knew it, it was time to go.

I sang and sang, as the song looped for the fourth time. A flick of the last light switch, and I stepped outside. To reduce the temptation to continue singing, I lowered the volume on my phone. Then I turned the key in the lock, officially ending my shift.

The sky was dark, as usual, but the streetlights hardly let it feel that way. People walked in groups and pushed past each other traveling in both directions. Elkston was a city that never slept. At least it seemed that way this close to the college. Loud, deep voices caught my attention; a group of drunken frat boys headed my way. I turned down the alley I always took to the shelter. It was quiet and harassment-free. Yay for good timing, and not having to deal with jerks. I turned down the volume on my headphones a bit anyway, just to be safe. Darker than the main streets, the alley had no lights, but I didn’t mind. It was familiar territory. Plus, I could see well enough in any light, which was why Mom had always said I had owl eyes. I knew there were rats around, but they kept to themselves. The fresh scent of the bagels in my hands overpowered the damp mildew smell and the stink of trash from the dumpsters.

I flipped to the next song on my playlist, "Dance the Night Away," the only song that I’d found about nighttime that both fit the walk and didn’t creep me out. I mean, how could you get nervous when you listened to Van Halen?

Something was off. I couldn’t quite put my finger on it. It was a scent that didn’t belong in the alley, a scent that didn’t belong in the city. It was earthy, like trees and dirt or something. Not dirt like the grime that coated streets in the city, not artificial, but rather like the soft topsoil that belonged in my mom’s garden back home.

I watched for anything out of place, for a woodsman dressed in plaid, or a cowboy, or a tiny garden on one of the dark balconies above. Nothing stood out. Nothing was here to account for the scent. The little hairs on the back of my neck stood on end. I walked faster, clutching the bags of bagels to my chest, and pulled the earbuds from my ears.

I heard my footsteps, each splash as the soles of my shoes impacted the wet cement and echoed through the alley. Engines roared in the distance, voices carried, rats squeaked and scurried. No, the song shouldn’t have been Van Halen. With the way I was feeling, it should have been one by Creedence Clearwater Revival—Bad Moon Rising.

Around the corner it was only another block to the shelter. Only another block and I could drop off the bagels. I’d hang out at the shelter until my nerves settled. Everything was fine. Woodsy smells weren't scary.

Thick, coarse fingers pressed hard into my cheek; a palm clasped over my mouth. I tried to scream, but no noise escaped. An unyielding force pinned my arms to my sides as the man pulled me into his chest, knocking the bagels to the ground. Pure terror surged through my veins. I tried to bite his hand, twist and pull my body free from his grasp. He held me tighter.

Had one of the frat boys followed me? What was I supposed to do? I wasn't going to be one of those statistics the college warned about during orientation. If this guy pulled down his pants, I’d rip that thing right off. I slammed my foot in the toe of his boot. He didn’t flinch.

Sandpaper scratched my cheek, his spiky beard. His mouth opened, and more than the scent of garbage or the forest, of the mildew or the bagels, I smelled his rotting teeth.

Zoe Roberts, he said in a quiet, grating voice, it’s time to join the pack.

Chapter 2

Witt

Small and delicate, the she-wolf as dark as night crept between the tall and narrow pine trunks. Zaria was more than ten years my senior, and as formidable as any shifter that I had ever met. Like a mother to me, and to every other wolf in the pack, it wasn’t her physical prowess that made her powerful. It was her ability to intimidate any shifter with her word alone. She didn’t make for good company. I kept my distance from her as she stepped just past the edge of the Sawtooth Peaks territory. With the Silent Butchers still in the area, Harkins had everyone on patrol duty. And I happened to be in charge of the part of the border where Zaria had taken to walking. Each night she traveled farther from town, and it had become my duty to babysit the she-wolf. Maybe she was bored; maybe she just loved to run. Her motivation was her own. So long as there was no sign of danger, she was free to do as she wished, and I was content to leave her to it.

Spending ten hours a day running through the forest as a wolf was nice at first. Since I had reached adulthood, I had never had so much time to run free. The fresh scents of moist soil, pine needles, and clean air beat the artificial scents of air conditioning and polyester carpets. The feel of soft, cool dirt was pleasant against my paws. But after months of tedium, I had to admit that I was starting to see why my brother hated this kind of assignment. It was necessary, and I was happy to serve, but patrol lacked the allure and excitement of the combat I was used to.

Moonlight reflected on a set of small eyes. I looked closer and saw a furry brown raccoon hiding beneath the fronds of a sword fern. Besides Zaria’s and my own, the little guy’s scent was the only one nearby. No threats to the she-wolf. No threats to Sawtooth Peaks, just like every night. The raccoon, striped in brown and black, moved between cover, likely searching for food. I kept my distance so as not to frighten him. A whiff of my scent or a glance in my direction would send him running in terror. I preferred the company.

The breeze blew, and with it came the hint of a stranger. My raccoon friend smelled it too and bolted in the other direction. Zaria hadn’t cried out, and I couldn’t scent any sign of injury, so he hadn’t harmed her. Yet. I bounded after Zaria and the wolf that approached her, thrilled by the prospect of a fight.

It wasn’t far. I never left more distance between us than I could travel if she needed me out here on her walks. Zaria stood her ground, feet firmly spread apart, head held low. She was ready to fight. The gray and white wolf that approached was much larger than her, male, and smelled like he hadn’t bathed in weeks.

I see the mark, but you don’t carry the scent of a man, he said in the shifter tongue, a voice no human would understand. If no one’s all over that sweet little ass, you must be in needin’ a real man.

If you find one, let me know, she snarled.

The gray and white wolf dove at Zaria, but not fast enough. She stepped back, and I slammed my shoulder into her attacker’s neck, knocking him to the ground. He was lighter than I had expected, and apparently oblivious to my scent. He should have known I was coming.

Fucker, he growled.

Not on my watch, I laughed.

I can hold my own, Zaria said. Had she really not wanted my help?

I decided it was best to say nothing. The shifter darted away from us. I was tempted to follow, find out who he was, why he was here. But then I looked down at Zaria, and I knew it was my duty to stay by the border. It was right to stay.

Kind of fun, right? I asked.

Zaria looked up at me through her bright golden eyes, with her fanged jaw set.

I don’t need a babysitter, she said in a hard tone that left no argument.

I nodded. It wasn’t my decision to make. And it wasn’t Zaria’s either, but arguing with her wouldn’t help. I took my orders from Harkins.

A few moments later, I caught the familiar scent of the pack’s top enforcer. There was no reason for Harkins to come out here unless something had happened. Hopefully no one was hurt. Maybe he had gotten a lead on the whereabouts of the Silent Butchers. With any luck it would be an away mission, the kind I’d been hoping to receive for months.

We need to report this, I said to Zaria, unwilling to leave her here alone.

I’ve had enough of a walk tonight anyway, she said. Maybe that was true. With her, I had no idea.

Zaria and I padded back toward the town, toward Harkins as he approached. We didn’t have to go far before he found us. The gray wolf was shorter than me, older and scarred. He was stealthier than any shifter had a right to be, and stronger than