N. Walters - Isaiah's Haven

Even now, he still wasn’t quite certain how he’d ended up in Chicago. He’d needed to get away from his home in the hills of North Carolina, but being trapped in a crowded city wasn’t exactly what he’d had in mind. As a wolf, he needed open space in which to run free. As a man, he wanted to be alone.

He cursed under his breath as he tried to ignore the stench of human body odor and garbage tinged with that of drugs, alcohol and perfume. His preternatural sense of smell was making the experience quite unpleasant. Occasionally, he’d catch a whiff of something quite wonderful wafting out from a restaurant as he passed by. His stomach growled in protest.

It had been hours since he’d eaten. He’d come to Chicago at his brother’s request. One corner of his mouth turned up in a ghost of a smile. Who’d have thought his brother, Joshua, would be the first of them to be mated. As the eldest, Isaiah had grown up assuming it would be him. But that hadn’t happened and wasn’t likely to any time soon.

Female werewolves were scarce. The past hundred years had not been kind to their species. Children were far and few between and what children were born were mostly male. Add that to the infighting between packs and the paranormal bounty hunters who pursued them relentlessly and it was no wonder their kind was on the brink of extinction.

Which led him back to the reason why he was here—Alexandra, his new sister-in-law. She was a half-breed who’d been discovered and hunted as a potential mate by some, while others had sought to destroy her.

He rolled his shoulders and fisted his hands at his sides at the mere thought of anyone harming her. In the short time she’d been mated to his brother, he’d come to respect and like her.

She and her father, James LeVeau Riley, had left Chicago quickly. Isaiah was here to tie up loose ends and have their belongings shipped to the Wolf Creek pack compound back home. So far, all he’d been doing was watching the garage they’d called home to make certain no hunters or other wolf packs were still sniffing around. When he was certain all was clear, he’d make contact and start the process of moving their stuff to Wolf Creek. Another day or so. Maximum.

Once this responsibility was dealt with, he promised himself he’d take off on his own for a while. He’d been feeling even edgier than usual lately, not at home in his own skin. And he didn’t like the sensation at all. He almost wished someone would pick a fight with him. It would be a good way to blow off some steam.

But a brawl with a human wouldn’t be fair. He was many times stronger and faster than any normal male. It would also draw attention, which was the last thing he wanted.

His phone rang and he sighed as he reached into his pocket. “Yeah?” he answered, knowing who it was without even checking the display.

“How are things going?”

Isaiah stifled a sigh. His brother was turning into an old woman, worrying and nagging him. The thought made him grin. No one but him would dare think of Joshua in that way.

Joshua was Striker of the Wolf Creek pack. He was the enforcer, the judge, jury and, when necessary, the executioner. He was tough and ruthless. He did whatever had to be done to protect the pack.

The job should have been Isaiah’s but he’d refused to accept it when their father had been killed. He owed his brother for taking over the responsibility he hadn’t been able to. Besides which, he knew his brother loved him and worried about him so he bit back his acidic retort. “I’m fine.”

There was a long silence on the other end of the line before Joshua finally spoke. “I know that’s not true, but I appreciate you taking care of this for me. The pack is still in an uproar over everything that’s happened and I can’t be away right now.”

“I’ll handle it.”

He heard a female voice in the background and Joshua added, “Alex adds her thanks too.”

“It’s no problem.” He glanced around as the fine hairs on the back of his neck rose. Someone was watching him.

“You seen Damek yet?”

“I’m on my way there now. I’ll call you tomorrow.” He ended the call, slipped the phone into the back pocket of his jeans and continued down the street.

Isaiah glanced casually over his shoulder, scanning the area behind him. Moving quickly, he darted across the busy road, ignoring the blare of horns and the shouts that followed him. Thankfully, he was in the downtown area and it was busy. He kept walking, opening all of his senses as he tried to figure out where his pursuer was, which was impossible given the crowds.

The feeling faded after a while, leaving him to wonder if he was simply being paranoid. No one but his immediate family and his alpha knew where he was.

It was time to take care of some business. He headed toward the Fulton River District, following Joshua’s directions. The area was a contradiction. Empty warehouses sat alongside million-dollar condos. It was easy to see that development was thriving in this section of the city.

His destination was one of the warehouses. He turned down a dimly lit alleyway. It wasn’t late, but darkness was quickly descending on the city and its citizens were already seeking the mind-numbing distractions of booze, drugs and music that could be found in a multitude of clubs in the area. There was something for everyone from posh to seedy dive.

None of it interested him. He hated being surrounded by people. Closed inside a building. Still, duty called.

Isaiah ignored the short lineup and went straight to the closed iron door. He raised his fist and pounded on the thick panel.

The door opened and a bouncer eyed him with suspicion. The guy was about six-foot-eight and wore leather from head to toe. His bald head and scowling face were meant to intimidate.

Isaiah didn’t give a shit. He wanted to complete his business and get out of here. “Damek.”

The bouncer raised an eyebrow in question. “And you are?”

“Striker. Isaiah Striker.”

The big guy sighed and rubbed his hand over his bald skull. “Another one, huh. I met your brother a while back. Come on in and wait.”

No one in the line protested as Isaiah followed the bouncer inside. The heavy door slammed shut behind them and he had the sensation of being entombed. Not too far fetched, considering the club was owned by a vampire.

The music pounded around him, vibrating through the floor and into his body. A blast of heat hit him as he stepped down several steps and headed to the bar. Thankfully, it wasn’t too crowded yet. But there were still way too many people for Isaiah’s liking.

He pushed past the mass of writhing bodies on the dance floor, ignoring the way the men and women groped at one another. The club was aptly named Inhibitions, as anyone who entered seemed to lose theirs.

Isaiah leaned against the bar. The bartender eyed him but a word from the bouncer and he was left alone. Not that there was any peace or quiet to be found. The music, if you could call it that, was loud and obnoxious with little melody. It was pulse-pounding, fuck-me music, designed to whip all the patrons into a frenzy.

From the looks of things, it was working. He counted no less than four couples having sex, while about a half-dozen more were in various stages of undress. Two women trolled across the floor toward him. Both of them wore what he supposed passed for dresses, but looked more like shrunken T-shirts. The necklines dropped almost to their nipples and the hemlines covered their crotches. Barely.

“Hey, looking for some fun?” One of the ladies pushed up next to him, straddling one of his thighs and grinding her pussy against it. Her perfume filled his nostrils, making it hard for him to breathe. He set her aside.