Chapter One

Chapter One

Tarek

Three Days Prior

“So, a werewolf walks into a bar…” I grin. “Does he actually walk into it, or does the bar walk into him? So many questions, so many answers. Hey, bro.” I snap my fingers twice. “You drunk?”

The guy shakes his head once, twice. Oh, wow, we have a goner. I wait until his head hits the table with a giant thud that has me wincing in pain on his behalf, then call for help. “Need a ride here!”

I don’t know why I do what I do.

I don’t know why I keep working, day after day after freaking day, trying to help the world when I can’t even help myself. But here I am. A werewolf created by the gods to just…sit and serve alcohol.

I feel like this would be the part in school where they ask you: “ Hey, what’s your passion? What’s going to change the world ?”

Me: Beer.

That’s my life’s purpose, even though I’m second in line for the Earth throne. And before you get all like, oh, Earth throne, oh, werewolf , let me get you caught up.

Werewolves aren’t weird, and we aren’t creepy things that go bump in the night and feed off the world, then howl at the moon. We literally just take care of the Earth and make sure bad juju doesn’t happen. Ergo, my brother, who is literally half Fallen Angel and half human and the King of the Soil, aka the Earth. So, what he says goes. All werewolves bow to him and his authority to make sure no bad things come to the world and try to bring on mass destruction via Fallen Angels and immortals fighting against humans. Like the Garden of Eden. Don’t even get me started on that fallout.

And then there’s me.

Someone who can hear everyone’s thoughts, someone who knows I need to protect everything, but also someone without a fucking purpose.

I serve drinks. I help others. I mean, I even helped an old lady with her groceries, and I didn’t even growl.

The point is, life is fleeting for humans. Mine, however? Lasts like hundreds of years, and all my friends are married, which sucks. Because, again…time. And now I’m about five seconds away from getting puked on by the guy in front of me.

“It just sucks, bro!” he yells.

“Yes, it does suck a dick.” I nod. “Tell me more.” My ability to keep a straight face is stellar. I don’t even think about it anymore, just nod and smile while words and sometimes puke gets thrown in my direction. It’s a gift, what can I say?

“And then she was all like, ‘I’ll kill you!’” The guy slams his hand against the bar top and looks up as if he can see the Heavens themselves. “All I wanted was a sandwich.”

“Violent.” I nod in agreement. “Very violent. And I am a fan of sandwiches so I apologize I can’t meet your needs right now.”

“But, bro…” He wipes another tear from his cheek, then grabs a napkin and blows his nose, tossing the tissue onto the bar. I quickly shove it off and into the trash. “She was right, and I like her violence.”

“Maybe”—I lean in—“the journey you need to take is more violent than others. Or maybe she just doesn’t like you, bro.” She literally does not like him. And I’m beginning to see why.

“No!” He jumps to his feet and thrusts his fist into the air. “I’ll fight for her.”

“Yay. Go get her,” I encourage as he falls to his knees and passes out. “Go, get your woman…man…person—” I pause. “Cricket, spider, demon. Whatever the hell you are—”

“Stop manifesting.” Timber, my boss, the actual Egyptian God of the Underworld, shows up next to me with his perfectly pressed navy suit and white-blond hair. Bet he even gets manicures. But I don’t want him to smite me, so I say nothing. “It’s weird. And also, you can’t mate a cricket with a spider. The biology is all off. Just allow him to pass out like a normal human, then phase him out, grab him a car make sure he has only happy memories from your phasing so he comes back to the bar, and then get back to work.”

Ah, immortals. Gotta love them. Even when you want to murder them half the time.

“But I hate phasing,” I grumble under my breath. “It makes them forget everything, and I feel like shit because they just repeat all their bad choices, and I get to witness it. Oh, shit. It’s like Groundhog Day . Or is that Freaky Friday ?”

He sighs. “ Freaky Friday is where they switch bodies. Groundhog Day is where the day goes on repeat. Why am I even engaging in this conversation right now?” He rolls his creepy blue eyes and wraps his knuckles on the bar top. “Phasing is necessary if you want the human to stay sane. They can only handle so much of the nectar we put in our liquor. Plus, who wants to remember puking on the ground and getting accidentally sucked on by a demon?”

“Nobody,” I answer truthfully. “I think it even makes you sad, and you have no heart.”

“But”—he winks—”thanks to my wife, gorgeous goddess that she is, I do have a soul.”

“So do I. But I didn’t need to wander in the Egyptian desert for thousands of years to find it. Weren’t you on your hands and knees in the sand for years—and years and years ?”

He growls, “Low blow.”

“I like blowing.”

“Wow.” He checks his watch. “I’m late for dinner. Lock up when you clean up the drunkenness. You’re coming over, right? Or are you staying late for guys’ night?”

He has a home with a family. I have a grumpy roommate who is still trying to bring himself to understand the modern world. I swear he nearly shat his pants when he saw a microwave. Ancient Gods like Horus need a manual, though he did manage to conquer TikTok.

Home. I wonder what that’s really like. Everyone has their person. Did I mention Timber forced Horus to become my roommate so I could help him? But now that Horus has his person, it’s just me, all alone in a sad, depressing room. That’s why I work late. What’s the point of home if you don’t truly have one? What’s the point of going to an empty room and existing? I’ve worked for Timber for the last eighteen months, helped save his life, and now I just get to hear people’s thoughts, see their futures, and realize I have none.

Wow, shit just got dark.

“Nah, man.” I shake my head. “Might go hunt.”

“So, you’re going to Taco Bell?”

“They give good chalupa.” I shrug because nothing sounds more depressing than sitting on the sidewalk outside Taco Bell and people-watching.

He sighs. Yup, I’ve officially driven Anubis—aka Timber—insane. Feels kind of right, though.

“Please.” He grits his teeth. “Phase the passed-out human, go do the job I pay you for, and for the love of the Creator, stop wearing shirts that show off your chest and biceps. It’s why we get sued.”

“I like my shirts!” I yell.

“So do they.” He basically points at every single human and demon in the club. Is it my fault I look good in a nice muscle tee? No, but still, he’s the boss and kind of a demon king with a godlike past. So, what he says goes. Last time he got pissed, he burned down his office. I mean, I think it had to do with the sex he was currently having. But still, there was trauma.

I sigh and pick the dude up from the floor. Then, very carefully so as not to be noticed by all the drunk people, I wave a hand over his face. His eyes flash blue before returning to brown. “What just happened?”

“You’re really drunk.” I pat him on the back. “But I grabbed you a car. Name’s Penny, drives a black Ford Focus, and should be here in the next few minutes.” I nod to security. They escort him out, and then I return to the rag I’ve been using to wipe down the bar top.

I swipe and then look to the right, making sure security actually escorted him out.

It’s a busy night full of humans dancing with demons they assume are just really good-looking people and have no ill intent, and the drinks are flowing so hard I’ve already sent home at least a dozen patrons because they couldn’t put one foot in front of the other. Timber blames the Ambrosia we put in the liquor. I blame the stupidity on the humans and their inability to know when enough is enough.

The door to the bar opens as security walks back in. Following them in is a girl, stumbling so hard I’m afraid she’ll chip a tooth on the hard concrete floor.

Her hair’s blue, which is pretty normal for any bar or place downtown. I don’t even really notice it, only that it’s sticking to her face with something red, and her cheeks are swollen. I squint. It almost looks like she’s been beaten. She stumbles toward the bar in her short denim cutoffs, combat boots, and black tank top, then slams her hand onto the bar next to the rag and whimpers.

There’s a dagger sticking out of the top of her hand, and her right eye is so swollen she can barely make eye contact with me. Before she stumbles closer, blood trickles down her right arm. She’s wearing black fishnet tights with her shorts and the tank is cropped and looks like it’s been torn half off. I don’t know if it’s the look she’s going for or if she’s been truly attacked—even beyond what I can already see.

I hop over the bar and grab her before she passes out, then carry her into the back office, shoving past everyone dancing. I nod at Timber to take over.

He frowns but returns the gesture as I shove into the office and slam the door closed, laying her on the black leather couch to examine her. That’s the good thing about immortals, nothing really fazes us. So if I nod to him, and he nods to me, we both know he’ll have my back if shit goes bad. But until then, I’ll handle it.

Werewolves can heal others since we’re self-healing, but I’m not sure what kind of internal injuries she may have at this point.

“Hey.” I grip her face gently. “What’s your name?”

She shakes her head, and then it lolls to the side until she’s completely passed out.

Well, that’s a no-go.

“I’m just going to pull the knife out of your hand,” I say to myself and wince when blood surges from her wound. I toss the dagger onto the floor and grip her palm between mine. My skin burns where I touch her. The weapon looks familiar, but I can’t figure out why as I continue to hold her hand tightly. The stab wound was deep—very deep.

I feel my eyes flash blue as I heal the wound, knitting the skin back together, but then I can’t let go. I start to pull away. How is her grip so strong when she’s not even conscious?

I tug again.

Her grip only tightens until her eyes flash open. They’re blood-red. She pulls me with inhuman strength right onto her bloody chest.

Her eyes don’t just lock onto mine. They hold me captive in a near chokehold around my body, suffocating me and pulling me closer and closer.

Despite her swollen face, she grips the back of my neck and pulls me in for a soul-sucking kiss.

I freeze, feeling my energy leaving my body. The last thing I remember is thinking, huh, so this is how it ends .

Death by kiss.

And then everything goes painfully black.