Excerpt from Alpha’s Moon

Sheridan sucked the Southern Comfort from the ice cube, wishing she was home with the ice wrapped around her throbbing ribs and drinking the whiskey straight from the bottle. She hated tracking down people who failed to appear for their court date or FTAs, even if they were most of her business lately. Some people who failed to show up for their court summons did it because they forgot, but most didn't give a rat's ass, and those were the ones she hated hunting down. But she and her partner were the best bounty hunters in the area, even if most of the lowlifes knew how to hide and had a network willing to cover for them under layers of shit and lies. Her partner said she had an uncanny ability to see through the bullshit and track the fugitives through the fragrant underworld until she found them. Too bad they didn't generally come willingly. But the bail bondsmen didn't care how the FTAs got to jail; only that they were returned and the bondsmen didn't lose their money.

Her partner had no idea about her methods and would probably stop working with her if he knew about her intuition and her spells, even if she was supposedly a magical dud as her mother's coven had deemed her the day they'd come to assess her after her mother's death. After washing their hands of her, they'd taken her mother's grimoire and all her tools, forgetting, or maybe not knowing, about the grimoire and materials her mother had started for Sheridan, despite her not showing any indication of magical ability. Half-breeds often showed erratic behaviors in their powers, and Sheridan, half-witch half-wolf, ended up being a dud in both camps and dumped in foster care with the humans, forgotten and ignored by everyone. She had a few enhanced abilities though, and what no one knew…well, fuck them all.

Sheridan would've preferred to be home on this Saturday night, nursing her latest injuries and blanking out to the latest episode of whatever trash reality television was on, but she'd promised her friend, Kayleigh, she'd meet up for a drink at the bar. Kayleigh had sounded tense and needed a break from the pressures her family was laying on her, and when a wolf shifter was feeling stressed, you didn't let her go out to blow off steam alone.

The odor of unwashed male, stale sweat, and motor oil wafted next to her, and a guy slid onto the bar stool, his breath letting her know he'd had a burger cooked, well done with onions and peppers for dinner, along with greasy fries and several beers. She wrinkled her nose and stared straight ahead at the back of the bar, mentally counting the bottles of liquor, hoping the guy was smart enough to be clued in that she was far from interested.

"Damn girl, you're cute like my little toe because I'll be banging you on my furniture all night long." He chuckled at his own joke and stroked a finger down her upper arm.

Sheridan shuddered at the touch, like fingernails on a chalkboard. Yeah, brains and wit were not strong in this guy's gene pool. Hopefully, he wouldn't reproduce. Ever. Because at five-feet-nine, she was not cute, not little, and not stupid enough to fall for that dumbass line. Still, he ran his index finger down her bare arm and licked his lips like he thought he was going to get lucky.

She caught the eye of the bartender who gave her a warning look, knowing her patience was, on the best of days, thin. Today was not a good day. But she'd oblige the bartender and not cause trouble. After all, she was supposed to be the voice of reason for the on-edge shifter who was meeting her there. It wouldn't do to cause a fight before her friend joined her. At least she'd left most of her weapons at home, except for her favorite knife for protection. But she wouldn't need that to take care of this guy.

She grasped his finger between two of hers and lifted it off her arm and flicked it onto the scarred wood of the bar. "Not. Interested."

He gave a low laugh and exchanged glances with the idiot on the other side of her, his partner in crime, judging by the same odors that covered him. She hated her heightened senses at times like this. The guy shifted his considerable beer gut on the bar stool, hopping his seat a little closer to her and draped an arm across her shoulders, tugging her to his body, while his other hand started getting a little too familiar with Sheridan's personal space. "Now, darlin', I'm just tryin' to be friendly."

She bared her teeth at the guy in a facsimile of a smile. Out of the corner of her eye, she saw the bartender gesture towards the door for the bouncers. Too late. He'd had his chance. Billy Bob was getting too handsy and needed to be taught a lesson in manners, and she was just the bitch to do it.

She gave him her sweetest, sexiest smile that her partner always swore made his balls draw up in his body and dropped her hand to her lap to stroke over his hand. Billy Bob, or whatever his name was, got an excited glint in his eye, as if sensing he was about to get lucky. He had no idea.

She gripped his hand, twisted, and shifted off the stool in one motion, flipping the heavier man until he was pinned to the floor, his arm painfully twisted behind him, high up his back. His face was pressed against the floor so that his cheek would have the imprint of the wood tattooed there for the next few days, and maybe a couple of splinters, if he was exceptionally unlucky. He cried and moaned under the knee that applied pressure to his neck. Just one little move and the right amount of pressure, and she could snap his neck or yank his shoulder out of place. His feet kicked the floor like a fish flopping on the deck of a boat, desperately gasping for air. The bar patrons created a circle around them. Even his buddy had backed off, sensing he wanted no part of the crazy bitch who had taken his friend down in seconds.

Sheridan leaned down so her lips were pressed to his ear, closer than she wanted to be, but he had given her no choice. "I'm. Not. Interested. Understand that, dumbass?"

He uttered something that may have been yes or no. It was truly hard to understand him through the blubbering. God, she hated men who cried. Grow a pair, seriously. Good thing she hadn't gone for them when she'd taken him down. She might not have found any.

"No means no, asshole. For everyone." She let him go with a shove and stood with one smooth move. A couple of people clapped in the bar, probably women who'd dealt with his brand of flirting, if that's what you could call it. Hell, maybe that was her good deed for the day. Too bad her ribs didn't appreciate the activity.

A hand settled on her shoulder, and she whirled around, fists up, only to meet the solid bricks that doubled as hands for Trent, the shifter who acted as the bouncer for the bar. He glared at her, eyes bright wolf gold, holding tight to her fists, a test of strength and will that she was destined to lose, not having the shifter strength or sheer power that he had. She relaxed her arms, instinctively and looked slightly down and to the right to let him know he'd won that dominance Challenge and his wolf could relax, that she was no longer a threat. Slowly, the punishing grip loosened and the slow rumbling growl from his chest settled. Sheridan saw Kayleigh behind him, trying to move Trent.

Trent seemed to barely notice Kayleigh, perhaps his duty to his Alpha and his Pack trumping his duty to the bar. Likely, he didn"t know how much of a threat Sheridan was at the moment to both of them and was being extra careful. Smart wolf.

Sheridan kept her eyes down and her breathing slow, even as the action galled her. She hated to be vulnerable, hated not knowing if there was a threat coming. She itched to grab her knife, if only for the flimsy protection it offered from the shifter, whose claws could gut her before she could even pull it out. Not being able to see Trent's eyes, see his body language, put her at a severe disadvantage. But it was better than him ripping out her throat over a misunderstanding. Still, she wasn't baring her throat to him. Nope, that was where she drew the line. And he knew it, which was why he was so hesitant to let her go, not believing she was truly backing down.

Finally, he dropped her hands with a final growl and a threatening glare. He grabbed the blubbering idiot still rolling on the floor and hauled him off to the door. The woman standing behind him grabbed Sheridan's arm and dragged her to the bar.

"And you were worried about me. What was that all about, Sher?" Kayleigh MacKinnon hopped up on the barstool and gestured for a round of drinks. Since she was a regular at the Salty Seadog, the bartender knew what she liked. He also knew her father, the Alpha of the local wolf Pack, and would be very careful about serving her, as would everyone there.

Sheridan slid onto the other stool and pressed a hand to her side. She was going to feel that tomorrow, the pain made worse with her stupid actions. "He was coming onto me."

"Christ, Wells, are you too good for the mere mortals around here?" came another voice. "You couldn't just say no? What's your problem? PMSing or just a regular bitch?" A thin, raven-haired woman sank onto the stool on the other side of Kayleigh, her lips twisted down as she sneered at Sheridan. Vanessa Grant. If she'd known that bitch was coming out tonight, she might've stayed home.

Vanessa downed her shot of tequila and ordered a second, clearly itching for a fight. Normally, Sheridan would oblige her, but Vanessa was a shifter and could use claws and rip her to shit, even if she wasn't supposed to. Sheridan could take her, but tonight, it might not be a good idea, judging how on edge their mutual friend was acting.

Kayleigh sat between them, her fingers drumming on the bar, legs crossed, one bouncing at a frenetic pace, her gaze darting around the room as if searching for someone.

Ignoring Vanessa, who sniffed and turned to scan the bar herself, Sheridan laid a hand cautiously on Kayleigh's shoulder. "Everything okay, Kay?"

Kayleigh froze, all movement stopped, as if she had just realized how telling her motions were. She laughed, a high, brittle sound, and took a long swallow of her beer. Sheridan was glad Kayleigh was sticking to beer and nothing stronger, not that alcohol affected shifters for long. They metabolized it quickly, but it could have an unpredictable effect on them in the short-term, especially if they were already on edge.

"It's been a rough week with all the visitors," Kayleigh replied. "Surely you've seen some of them around town."

Visitors? Shifters coming into the territory? Well, that would increase tension. If there were a higher-than-normal number of strong males, they'd be fighting for dominance and for females, especially since female shifters were rare. Sheridan also ran her gaze over the bar patrons not seeing any new faces, which relieved her. Her actions with the unwelcome asshat could've been the spark lighting a firestorm, even unknowing. Of course, shifters still kept to themselves, despite their species being known to the public, due to prejudices and politics on both sides. Because they kept their identities concealed, how would anyone know to watch their step? Sheridan only knew who they were because, well, in her line of business it made sense to know when to deal with a human target or when to contact shifter law enforcement to handle an FTA. Not to mention her friendship with Kayleigh.

No wonder Trent and the bar staff were on edge. That tension had filtered down to Sheridan. She'd always been able to sense emotions, not like an empath but in another way. And tonight, even not seeing strangers in the bar, the crowd felt tense and different, as if it wouldn't take much to push them into violence.

Vanessa snorted on the other side of Kayleigh. "Sure, rough week. A whole bunch of Alpha males fighting over you. Only you would want everyone to feel sorry for you, Kayleigh. You could literally have your pick of the fucking litter, and you're out here, crying in your beer instead of fucking your way through the cream of the crop."

Kayleigh stared at her friend as if she hadn't seen her before. "What got your tail in a twist tonight? Maybe add some juice or something to that tequila and sweeten it up because your attitude sucks donkey balls, Nessa. And you know damn well I can't fuck any of them without a mating."

Vanessa growled. "Oh, that's right. The Pack princess has to stay pure for her perfect Alpha prince while the rest of us take her leavings." She tossed back her shot. "I need some space." She stalked off to be absorbed quickly into the crowd, leaving Kayleigh and Sheridan to stare after her, open-mouthed.

"What the fuck was that all about?" Sheridan couldn't help but ask.

Kayleigh swiveled on the stool to face the bar and sipped her beer, her expression morose. "She's not wrong. I'm of age to mate, and my father wants me to find a mate. So, he put the word out. Now, we're flooded with dominant males from packs from all over the country, hoping to test the mate bond."

"Shit." Sheridan hunched over the bar and waved off another drink. Two was her limit, and she sensed she needed to be the adult tonight. "I take it none of them have been the right one?"

Kayleigh shook her head, her eyebrows pinched together and her shoulders slumped. "I had hoped one of them might be the one. I mean, I knew it was a long-shot but I had hoped."

"So, you wait. What's the big deal?"

Kayleigh gave a laugh that had no humor in it. "I can't wait. Female wolves at my level don't wait. I'll be mated within the month. We'll find an acceptable one and use a witch to create the bond so I can have children."

Sheridan stared at her. What the fuck was that all about? "This isn't the middle ages or even two hundred years ago. I just put the beat-down on an asshole who wouldn't take no, and you're supposed to marry someone your father wants you to just because he says so? There has to be another way."

Kayleigh gave her a stricken look and grabbed her arm in a grip that was guaranteed to leave bruises later. "Sheridan, oh my goddess. Please, don't ask me any more questions. I shouldn't have said what I already did. You don't understand, and I'm not supposed to talk about it. Please, trust me when I tell you that everything will be fine. My father will do the best he can for me." She downed the rest of the beer and pasted on a smile that Sheridan knew was fake. She hopped off the stool and pulled Sheridan with her. "I just want to forget for tonight. Come on, let's dance, okay?"

* * *

Dancing was not Sheridan's thing, but with Kayleigh's bombshell and Vanessa acting like a bitch, even more than usual, and then disappearing, probably with some redneck, Sheridan thought it prudent to stick close to her friend. They danced and had fun, while Sheridan kept a close eye on the surrounding crowd, noting that Trent was doing the same thing. Kayleigh had been knocking back beer and Jell-O shots, and dancing like there was no tomorrow, which for her, maybe there wasn't. Her freedom would be considerably curtailed if she was about to be mated, so she was already chafing at the bounds that were subtly closing in around her, or so Sheridan assumed. There were more people in the bar than was usual for a Thursday night, and Sheridan didn't think all of them were locals but she didn't hang out there often, so she could be wrong. But her internal radar was screaming at her. So, despite her exhaustion and sore body, she remained.

Finally, around midnight, Vanessa strolled back, looking calmer, probably because she'd been fucked, judging by her mussed hair and the uneven buttons on her shirt. She appeared fairly sober, thank the Goddess, because Sheridan was fading fast. She needed her bed and didn't want to drive the girls back to the Pack grounds. Kayleigh also seemed to be winding down, as if the frenetic energy had burned itself out, and the girls headed for the parking lot. Vanessa kept glancing around, and Sheridan's radar was pinging still, even as they left the bar. She scanned the area but didn't see anyone or anything, though she had caught a scent in the bar and outside that seemed vaguely familiar, an aroma from earlier that day, which was odd and bugging the hell out of her.

"Do you need a ride home?" she asked.

Vanessa sneered at her. "Humans are not permitted on Pack land. I can handle it."

Sheridan arched her brow. "Since you disappeared all night, I wanted to be sure you were okay to drive home."

"We don't have the problem with alcohol you do. I'll take care of my friend." Vanessa unlocked the car with the remote and slid into the driver's seat without a backwards glance.

Kayleigh gave Sheridan a big hug, holding her a little closer and harder than usual. "We're fine. I barely feel the alcohol anymore. I'll be sure to see you and let you know what happens. Thank you for coming out tonight. I know you hate this."

Sheridan hugged her back, suddenly loathe to let her go. "Take care of yourself, and watch out for her," she said, jutting her head toward the woman in the car.

Kayleigh released her with a laugh. "Vanessa is fine. She just hates humans. But she's a good friend and bodyguard for me. I'll text you when I get home."

Kayleigh got into the passenger seat, and the car roared out of the parking lot, gravel spitting up behind it, almost hitting Sheridan, who moved out of the way just in time. She palmed her keys and considered her gut. It had never let her down before, and it was telling her to follow and be sure they made it home. No one was around the bar, but something just felt wrong.

She hurried to her car and slid in, flooring the ancient Subaru after the girls. She hoped her car could catch up, so when she saw the black SUV just ahead on the dark road stopped, she slowed, sensing a screaming red alert. Before she could process what she was seeing, something crashed into the side of her car, T-boning her across the street. Pain flashed, and everything went black.

* * *