CHAPTER 1
Ace
I could smell the blood in the air as I entered the bar. That was the thing about being a shifter. You could smell just about everything. Your nose was your most powerful tool and rarely led you astray.
There’d clearly been a fight in this room tonight. The sharp tang of iron still wafted about, lending a feral edge to an already wild and untamable environment. That was nothing new though. Chub’s was a bar on the wrong side of town that only the bravest frequented. Renowned for its rough atmosphere, and rougher clientele, men like me and my crew, The Night Stalkers Motorcycle Club, came here to blow off a little steam from time to time.
Tonight was one of those times. It was close to the full moon and me and my brothers were itching for some fun, women, drinks, and a fight or two. And there was no better place than Chub’s to get all of the above.
The majority of people who visited this bar were sups of some kind. Shifters. Vamps. Witches. Hell, even a demon here and there weren’t out of the ordinary for this little hole in the wall. Humans drank here, too. Though they had no idea who they were actually drinking with, as the supernatural community didn’t reveal itself to the “normies”, those who lacked supernatural gifts, without serious consequences.
Domino, our Club Enforcer, lumbered down beside me then. He was the only son of a bitch in this Club that was bigger than me. Though we were all large bastards, given our shifter heritage, Domino still had me beat by several inches.
“How’s the talent tonight?” He asked, pitcher of beer in hand as his eyes roved the dimly lit space. “My dick’s been hard for so long it’s starting to hurt!” Reaching between his legs, the mountainous man shifted himself within the strained confines of his jeans.
I chuckled, shaking my head. “You’ve been away for five days, Brother. Surely you’ll survive your short stint of abstinence.”
The Enforcer had been in Nevada on club business and had just gotten back into town when we decided to head out to Chub’s for the night.
With a surly expression, Domino swigged his beer. “Can’t without some tail. You know how it is with the Blood Moon being so close. No matter how much I fight or fuck, I can’t seem to take the edge off.”
I knew the feeling. My skin was tight and hot. Well, hotter than usual. Wares run warm. About five degrees warmer than humans, which really confused the fuck out of doctors when we had to get medical care. Though, admittedly, that was rare. Notonly do we heal exceptionally fast, but we also hardly ever get sick. And when we do, we know better than to go to the hospital unless the circumstances are dire. Even then, we made sure to seek out our own kind for help whenever possible.
My nerves were on edge as I examined the bar. The rest of the pack, I was certain, was experiencing the same issue. In fact, I was pretty sure all of the sups in Chubs were being affected by the season and the upcoming Blood Moon.
A Blood Moon occurs during a full lunar eclipse. When it happens, the moon turned a rusty-orange color and shifters aligned completely with their animal nature. Though the event was merely pretty to humans, to supernaturals of all kinds, it held a much greater significance. Especially to wares. To us, Blood Moons were almost a spiritual event. Sacred even. They only came about every two to three years. But when they did, they sent the shifter community into a frenzy of sorts, a sexual frenzy that could last for weeks on end.
Though ware shifts weren’t entirely based on the moon’s cycle, they were heavily influenced by it. A Blood Moon was special because we often found our mates during this time. When that happened, we fell into what is called “rut”, sexual debauchery so ravenous and insatiable we were more animal than man while in the throes of it.
As if on cue, two men at the bar began to argue. I could tell both were strays without any pack affiliations. Strays lived a mostly feral lifestyle, moving from town to town until they fucked up one time too many and were chased out by the dominant group in the area, which, based on Chub’s location, was my club: The Night Stalkers MC.
Sampling my beer, I leaned back and watched the men duke it out. If the bartender, Kierston, needed me, I’d be over there in a second to put an end to this tickle fight. Until then, I was just going to sit back and observe.
The noise bloomed and crescendoed with each successive strike. It didn’t take long before I smelled more blood in the air, coating both the men’s fists, and anyone stupid enough to get between them.
Irritated by the foolish pups’ antics, Domino stood to put an end to the nonsense. Before he could act, Kierston pulled a soda gun from behind the bar and aimed the device at the squabbling men.
“Knock it off, you damned mutts!” She shouted, leveling it on her targets. Kicking the spigot on full blast, the shock of cold spray caused the men to immediately separate.
“What the fuck?” The larger of the two brutes groused, frantically swiping the offending liquid out of his eyes.
“You’re lucky it’s only water, asshole! Next time, I’ll let the Night Stalkers have a go at you. You won’t recover so fast after that, I promise! Now get out of my bar before I toss you out on your ass!”
“No woman tells me what to do,” the mutt growled, his chest puffing out with righteous indignation.
That was another thing about wares. We were so damn dominant that we hated being told what to do. Especially by those perceived to be weaker than us. But Kierston wasn’t weak. If this dumb mutt didn’t figure that out soon, he’d be learning his lesson the hard way tonight.
“One last shot to do it on your own, big guy, or I’m going to make you leave,” Kierston warned.
The defiant man smiled at the bartender condescendingly. “You’re going to make me do something, sweet cheeks? I’d love to see you try!”
Domino whistled and sat back down. “He’s going to regret that comment in a few seconds,” he correctly prophesied.
Kierston, an impressive witch in her own right, wasn’t above using her powers if someone got out of line. Since there were no humans in the bar right now, she was in the clear to demonstrate her skills. This prick didn’t even know what was coming his way, but that was all about to change.
Those nearest to the stray took several steps backward when Kierston mumbled a few words under her breath. “What’s that, honey? Speak up. I can’t hear you,” he taunted, before he was blown clean off his feet and landed on his ass, as promised, a stone’s throw from the door.
A flush suddenly stained Kierston’s cheeks. Her chest rose and fell like she’d just run, full tilt, up a set of steep stairs. “Now get out of here or the next blow you feel will be to your puny balls!” She threatened.
